"Are you hungry?" a man asked, a masculine variation of the woman, who Cassidy had spoken to earlier. "We have plenty to eat, drink." The hump jiggled a little to his dismay.

"Yes, thank you," he forced a smile to the other's delight.

The lady, who'd ushered her children inside, waited for the local to step away. "I'm for hospitality," she shivered, held her children, "but they're so odd." She searched about, but sighed after checking all the men's faces. "I'm looked for a man, William. Have you seen him?" asked the veiled woman, but the bounty hunter shook his head.

"Well, Ma'am," he nodded, though kept his voice low, "I'm Cassidy Bullock."

"The bounty hunter," she studied him. Under the veil, large eyes filled with tears, but her voice was steady.

"The same," he smiled at the children, "why are you here? If you don't mind me asking, for these people are strange."

"I miss my father, and we wish him to come home," proclaimed the young girl, as if there would be no question as to his answer. The little one nodded, though sheepish.

"My name is Matilda," she replied politely, yet kept the names of her children secret. "Are you after someone?"

"No," he replied, and she relaxed, "I just want to see an old friend."

A woman quivered up to Cassidy, although he was unable to tell if they'd already met. Back stepped Matilda, hand brushed near a secret pocket. "Would you like to speak of the Black Witch?" she asked, fawning servility dripped from every word.

The bounty hunter shifted, "Yes, I'm curious." Eyes, blue as the dawn, flicked to Matilda, who stifled a grin. "Your hospitality is kind," he saw a shift of black dust drifted down from the woman's hump.

"Oh, our Goddess is divine," she swooned, eyes flat and glassy, "for she holds back Death."

"That's quite a feat," he nodded, non-committal.

"Indeed," she beamed, "she heals the sick, hurt, and is the ecstasy in the darkness, beckoning flame."

"Hurt," he repeated, "have you heard of a Captain Barnabas Lee? He is a Union war hero." At the question, the veiled woman's head turned ever so slightly.

She blinked, "I…our Goddess fill us with her light."

"So," he looked at all too similar faces of the locals, "you know nothing of the Captain Lee." Cassidy enunciated the words slower, for he feared the closeness of their family tree had turned them to dullards. Matilda turned away to speak to her children.

For a long moment, the local woman stared at him. "We have plenty of food," eyes dulled, but her smile held.

"Oh, I can see that," the bounty hunter grinned, but wondered where they'd gotten so much pork. He'd see very few pigs for the last couple of weeks. "Where did you get it all?"

"Black Witch provides," the smile finally died on her face, and she turned away.

Cassidy watched her move to other travelers. Such strangeness struck him, and wondered about the outcome on children of the town, but saw none. Food was delivered to all, along with drinks, but the bounty hunter touched nothing. Image of the black dust quelled any hunger. Matilda and her children only stared at the lavish dinner. The bounty hunter searched the townsfolk of Lamp Light, but none carried so much as a knife. Thinking the peculiar sect pacifist, he calmed.

Around the room, the locals placed themselves, and a jubilant energy filled them. Cassidy followed their gaze to the door. A steady boom arose; boards creaked under a heavy weight. Through the front, Leviticus Woodbine stepped inside, though he had to duck in order to enter. He expected a waifish man, for usually priests and preachers relied heavily on others. The bounty hunter was awed by the tower of a man. Dower, pallid face was waxen, corpse-like, and deep set, dark eyes surveyed the room. Like a hanging Judge was the gaze of the town's religious leader. Eyes found Cassidy and Matilda with their full plates, though it left his countenance unchanged. Before his picture he moved, before turning to once again study the guests.

"You've come, oh weary travelers," his voice boomed to carry with ease over the room. Odd clicking buzz crept underneath the vaguely European accent, which reminded Cassidy of a Spaniard. "Eat of our Miquipapalotl, be of our Black Witch, and let her light guide you. Consume and be consumed, become as our Goddess. You come only to pass, yet we ask you to stay." He walked through them, sermon over, eyes captured each in turn. Long the severe eyes lingered on the bounty hunter.

Cassidy watched him go, and the sound of his heavy tread faded. A black silhouette filled the doorway, yet none but the bounty hunter noticed the figure. Through the room a broken noble figure flew, pierced it in silence. The man moved with a limp; wide brim hat pulled low, and long, robe-like duster almost touched the floor. Spectral gait unsettled the eye, silence never broken by any step. Away Matilda fell, as he approached, fearful of such a spectral grace. Dusty dark clothes repelled light.

"Bullock," he rasped with an odd buzz, clicks like sticks striking wood, "you've wondered far to have come here."

He frowned, but a ruptured eye found him, "Sir, is that you?"

Wide brim hat rose, mask covered the horror underneath, "I thought you'd return to your family." The words died on his lips, for each was a labor.

"Parson's Raiders came," he looked away from the haggard man, who winced and jerked; though, one would've to be close to see it. "They're gone," he added, felt a sting in his eyes. "What of your wife?"

"I left her," he turned the side of his face with the mask towards Cassidy, "so she could, perhaps, find happiness. Our children need a father, not a burden. The war left me…in rather poor shape, Bullock."

"You," he looked at him, but the weird duster hid his body, "doing better?'