As the posse moves up the wide staircase of Lawrence Murphy’s home, they notice that the house has gone quiet. There are no sounds within the building, giving the sudden impression that it is now entirely vacant. Only the soft creak of wood underfoot and the wind rattling the eaves of the structure disturb the pervasive silence.

Following John Kinney’s directions, the posse enters the hallway that extends from the upper floor walkway, moving past the open doors of three well apportioned bedrooms on the right, all of which are unoccupied. At the end of the corridor, propped against the wall, is a wooden cross of the type often used to mark graves, noticeably out of place amongst the expensive wallpaper and fine furnishings. The wood has been rendered pale by the sun, the dryness having split it in several places. Wound around every part of the marker are vines, thick black strands studded with thorns.

To the left, just as Kinney said, stands a single door with a brass knob. It is closed.

"Enny'un got a scattergun?  Ah brought one, but ran outta shells downstairs."  Kansas Kate asked the others.  Her approach to this was apparent.

Dr. Wayland kept his eye hard on the door.  Like he expected it to try and eat him at any moment.  At Kate's question, he tilted his head slightly and hefted his lightning gun, "It does scatter a might a more than you may intend, though..."  The bounty hunter reached into his vest pocket and withdrew the little derringer.  The same little pistol with which he had not too long ago literally blew the head off of one of Murphy's numerous gunhands.  It was small, but apparently packed quite a surprising punch, "Ah prefer to use this for knocking on doors..."

"Well ah guess'n if we all shot at once.  Right thar, 'bove th' lock, then kicked 'er in."  She formulated the plan as she spoke.