The town, with Geraldine's help, manages to clean itself up in the aftermath of the assault by the Man in Black. Families are reunited, the dead are gathered and taken to the church, and lives begin to be put back together.
Geraldine does her work in silence and takes herself back to her home when finished.
The following days are taken up with rebuilding and funeral services for the fallen. Geraldine goes to Mamie McDaniel's boarding house and collects Roland's things. She takes them home and lays them out, looking them over. She looks for some sign of a next of kin, and finds only a folded up photograph of a young Creole woman with the words "Chloe—New Orleans, 1870" inscribed on the back. The woman has Roland's wry smile and eyes. She takes his gris-gris bag and his Hoyle's Book of Games and tucks them away with her other occult gear.
She arranges for Roland's funeral to be held at the Imperial, which scandalizes only those that didn't know Roland. He is interred in the nearby cemetery in his best suit. Geraldine has a tombstone erected to honor her friend:
Roland Antoine Dupre
July 15, 1852 – December 15 1876
"What you are will show in what you do" — T. Edison
Geraldine busies herself with scientific inquiries at home. Though she still meets periodically with the Reverend, Marshal Kimsey, and Mayor-Elect Putnam, she largely keeps to herself. Except for the funeral service, she does not set foot in the Imperial.
On December 29, 1876, two weeks after the assault, she receives notice that Philetus Crinklaw has arrived from Virginia City to apply for the position of apothecary. She meets with the druggist, along with Doc Fabry. Philetus is a lanky man in a fine suit that almost seems too big for his thin frame. He has short, slicked-back hair and sideburns. He smiles a lot and seems very friendly. The doc quizzes him on his pharmaceutical knowledge and seems satisfied. He can start Monday, January 1, 1877.
Lila reports that Ethan Jennings has recovered from his wounds during the fight with the Man in Black. It didn't take long, just a few days for the gut wound to close almost completely, leaving only the wound that originally killed the harrowed young deputy. Lila wants to keep Ethan on as deputy, "these superstitious sidewinders be damned. He's earned it, coming down to help us against that black-garbed piece of shit." The Reverend seems uneasy at the prospect of an "abomination before God" being given leave to stay in town, much less a prominent position there. Mayor Putnam is inclined to trust Lila's judgment, with the understanding that if the harrowed deputy turns on her, she is to put him down "with no uncertain prejudice." For his part, Ethan elects to continue staying in the cabin up on the mountain, but will come down and and work in the town on his shifts, which are usually at night to give Lila a rest.
The town is going to be facing a new year with a new mayor, a new church, a new apothecary, and some hope in their ability to withstand even the most unholy of adversity. Still, there is a pall over the town as the dead never rest easy in Paiute Springs. Even if they stay in the ground, they weigh on the minds of those they left behind.
The peaceful veneer of our humble township was broken yesterday by the inexplicable arrival of Lucfier's Own Locomotive, and its hellish conductors. A monstrous engine powered by brimstone and lost souls shot down the tracks that occupy Milton's Pass, to the north. With it arrive a host of lost souls that proceeded to attack every innocent they encountered. Though for the fact that I witnessed this apocalyptic scene myself, I would have counted it an opium drem or feverous delusion. 
The train itself derailed at the end of the tracks colloquially known as Milton's Folly. And there it sits today, cooling from its aura of hellfire. The locomotive seems to be made of iron and is outfitted with all manner of spikes and unpleasant accoutrements, and the smell of sulfur lingers about the infernal device. 
Some of the cultists are being held by our own Town Marshal, Lila Kimsey. Others either fell in the battle or have skulked their way into the desert like the sidewinders they are.
This past Friday, around noon, Paiute Springs saw one of the most deadly altercations in its short history play out on the main street of town. 
At any rate, our firebrand Miss Keeler was not impressed with the Clay Brothers. The man in question, ostensibly Jimmy Clay, indicated that she and her man should clear the street and return property not belonging to them to Mr. Johnson (it should be noted that Miss Keeler was carrying a large valise at the time). However, Mr. Clay used a term not to the liking of either Miss Keeler or Mr. Dupre in reference to Mr. Dupre's skin tone. 
An eerie silence fell over the street. Some say a strange shadow fell over the scene and then flitted away, out of town. It's hard to say—it was a cloudy day. But, at the time of this reporting, the valise that Miss Keeler was carrying is still missing.
John Paul "J. P." Jefferson, longtime mayor of Paiute Springs and owner of the Prince Royal Hotel, has announced that effective on January 1, 1877, he will be resigning from the office of Mayor of Paiute Springs. Citing "recent stresses and a desire to see democracy in action," Jefferson will be leaving the post after being elected three times into the position by the citizens of our town. 
Our local eccentric scientist, Miss Geraldine Keeler, recently attended the Annual Meeting of the Great Basin Scientific Society in Virginia City, presenting her paper, "Looking to the Future: Ethics and Science in the New Age." While there, she was presented by the Society's Distinguished Service Award for her actions during an altercation at the Smith & Robards' Grand Expostion in Salt Lake City, Utah (Deseret) earlier in the year. 
In a statement released today from Washington, President Ulysses S. Grant announced that, beginning on January 1, 1877, the contract between the United States government and the Pinkerton Detective Agency will expire. The contract will not be renewed.
Gunshots rang out through the night from our esteemed Mayor's establishment last Monday night around midnight! Night clerk Vince McGillicuddy reports that semi-permanent guest Roland Dupre had an altercation with a newly-arrived stranger, a Miss Simone Moreau of New Orleans, in his room, ending with his firing his gun at her. Some reports have Miss Moreau being armed with a derringer at the time, others, not. Regardless, the altercation ended with her bearing a gut wound!
The next day, I half expected to hear that the Keeler place was a-fire. It weren’t—-and I’m glad of it, mind you. Nevertheless, I’ll never forget the way that fireball careened through air, not like it was fallen, but like it was flyin’ itself. Damnedest thing, I tell you.”
It began with the arrival of "Miss Lavern Stefano" (if that is her real name) and her "cousin" Max Tucci. They and their entourage of ten "ranch hands" began snooping around town on March 7th. It turns out many of their inquiries concerned the flying machine found in Miss Geraldine Keeler's backyard. I am proud to say that your humble editor did not fall for their story and remained vigilant, as promised, against trouble. I never trusted that woman, but I digress.
The two were pursued by a couple of the "ranch hands" employed by Mr. Tucci. Mr. Dupre, in the process, was shot in the arm, but Miss Geraldine made it out of town.
"The Arachne Circle", a meeting of the town's spinsters, will take place in Mamie McDaniel's Boarding House three o'clock this afternoon. Miss Imogene Crane welcomes any woman who wishes to join them for tea and fellowship.
Our own "Little Jake" Botham, only ten years of age, has been missing since the night of February 28. He was last seen at the traveling carnival that had visited our fair town, "Aloysius P. Southmeyer's Traveling Mysterium," at the tent of the Bearded Lady. Young Jake never returned from the tent to his parents.
Our fair town was visited by "Aloysius P. Southmeyer's Traveling Mysterium" last week and thoroughly entertained in the process.
Town Marshal Lila Kimsey was on the scene and immediately called together a posse to go check out the goings on at the Last Switch, some fifteen miles to the north of town. For one thing, driver George Hawkins was missing and for another, Charlotte had just been assaulted something fierce.
"Mr. Hawkins managed to convey to Miss Keeler that there was a trap door beneath the central rug," said Roland Dupre. "That started us on the trail to wondering if the truth was beneath our feet."
By this time, the upper door had been opened, making Marshal Kimsey and George Hawkins witness to the life-saving blow. It also shed light on the remaining horrors of the cellar. 
The bodies of the freaks, still unidentified, will be on display in front of Allan's General Mercantile until Friday, and then they will be interred in unmarked graves at the west side of the cemetery. The nature of the strangers is still unknown, though Miss Keeler asserts that they are examples of genetic mutations of some sort or another. Marshal Kimsey asserted that she wouldn't dare speculate and don't rightly care—they're dead as dirt now and that's all that matters. Roland Dupre would only smile and say "the only difference between a monster and a genetic mutation is that one keeps you up at night."
Matthew Briggs is a seller of elixirs and powders from Virginia City He plans to stay in Paiute Springs and ply his trade for a spell. If that dries up, he'll head to Pioche. 
Gertrude Mankowitcz is a Polish immigrant from Chicago who has come to Nevada to live with her son, Christopher, a prospector in Pioche.
Robert Farmer is a prospector and businessman on his way to Pioche to check on his holdings there.
Major Adam Traynor (Ret.) is a former Union officer returning home to Pioche after sustaining an injury.
Shane "Three Feathers" Robinson is a Paiute scout employed by the Army on a courier mission to Pioche.
Lucille Justice, and her daughter, Jasmine, are both traveling to Pioche to stay with Lucille's mother-in-law after the untimely death of her husband, Gordon, back in Tombstone, Arizona.
Dear Aunt Sally, my ding dang horse has gone and gotten hisself a cold. What can i do?—H.
Asa and Randall Daltry, two silver miners encamped around our fair town, have gone in together on the purchase on one of those wondrous contraptions made available by the Smith & Robards outfit out of Salt Lake City. Their previous mule, Bessy, being a cantakerous beast by all accounts, was not well liked and was unceremoniously sold to Mr. Han, our local launderer.
US Government Denies Existence of Strange Lights
A dramatic scene played itself out at high noon today on Main Street as the mysterious, skull-faced stranger returned today to call out our town's spiritual advisor, Reverend Timothy Gage—or rather, Timothy Gaught—as the the stranger referred to him as. It appears our esteemed pastor has a checkered past of some sort, if he felt the need to change his name before heading into parts West.
Our very own Ginny Lindstrom, whose velvet tones we have all enjoyed at our esteemed Mayor's Prince Royal Arms restaurant, has secured a permanent contact with Alvin Marstrand Players. This troupe of entertainers, if you recall, visited our fair town, just two weeks hence and plied us with their sounds of the East and South. They were apparently quite struck with our Ginny and we couldn't be prouder. Be sure and catch Ginny's final performance at the Prince Royal on January 29 at 8 o'clock.
New York governor Samuel Tilden is reputed to be joining the race for President against our incumbent, Ulysses S. Grant. The election, slated for November of this year, has a lot riding on it—no less than the fate of our war-torn nation. Tilden, a proponent of the "peace" movement which advocates for a more reconciliatory stance with the Confederacy, is thought to have long odds against our popular incumbent. Nevertheless, the war has dragged on for some time and some seek a change. As for the Sentinel, we'll take a "wait and see" attitude before issuing an endorsement.
