[INTRO — MORNING WESTERN | 4/4 ~96 BPM | DREADNOUGHT | TELECASTER | UPRIGHT/FIVE-STRING BASS | dry snare] [MALE BARITONE — third-person narrator throughout] Verse 1 — Three Coffees Three cups of coffee later, Silas almost stood up straight. Sarah looked him up and down. “You functional?” “Define functional.” “Can you think?” Silas winced. “Unfortunately.” Sarah called them to the table. Jack and Della. Mara too. Silas spread the northern map. “All right. I know how we get our proof.” Jack leaned back. “This ought to be good.” Silas pointed north. “We catch one.” Verse 2 — The Team “Small party. Six men. Maybe eight. No army. No column. Nothing noisy.” Sarah nodded. “And?” “We need four ropers.” Mara looked at him. “Ropers?” “The best you've got.” Silas set four coffee cups Around a fifth upon the table. “One north. One south. East. West. Four ropes. Four horses. Hit it together. Keep it off balance. Control where it goes.” Jack stared at the cups. “And where exactly does it go?” Silas placed a wooden box Beside the center cup. “In there.” Verse 3 — The Problem [TELECASTER PICKS UP] “A box on a sledge. Heavy timber. Iron fittings. Once it's inside— shut it. Chain it. Bring it south.” Jack shook his head. “I've seen those things. What keeps it from busting out?” Silas stopped. Then smiled. “That's the interesting part.” Sarah: “I hate when you say that.” Verse 4 — The Grove [LONG-DARK RESONATOR: 1–♭2–♭3–4–♭5–5–6] Silas looked at Jack. “You told me about the grove.” Jack nodded. “Warm ground. Forest Folk. Dead wouldn't enter.” “Neither would the Riders?” “No.” “Then something stopped them.” Jack understood. Silas tapped the table. “Find out what.” The old Forest woman Had come south with them. Spent most days near Brayden. Jack left the room to find her. Silas drank more coffee. Mara watched him. “You're shaking.” “I'm improving.” Verse 5 — Holly [LOW WOOD FLUTE: 1–2–4–5–♭7] Jack returned a while later. “Holly.” Silas frowned. “Holly?” “Leaves. Crushed. Oil rubbed onto the trees around the grove.” Della leaned forward. “And they won't cross it?” “That's what she says.” Silas was standing now. Thinking faster. “Not leaves in the box. Treat the wood. Every inside surface.” Sarah: “You think that'll hold it?” “No.” Silas looked around. “I think it's worth finding out.” Chorus [DRIVING WESTERN GROOVE] Four good ropers. Four good horses. Four directions. One dead man. Heavy timber. Iron hinges. Chains enough to hold the damned. Paint the inside with the holly. Put the whole thing on a sledge. Then drag their proof to Crown Junction— assuming nobody ends up dead. Mara: “Again.” Silas: “More dead.” Verse 6 — Build It [ENERGY RISES] Sarah turned toward the doorway. “Find me the four best ropers anywhere on Winter land. Not the bravest. The best.” Jack added, “And a carpenter.” Silas shook his head. “Good carpenter.” Mara: “Very good carpenter?” Silas finished off his coffee. “One with professional pride.” Della laughed. For the first time that morning, Silas almost did. Outro [TELECASTER + RESONATOR] By noon the ranch was searching For four riders and a trade. Timber came from Winter sawmills. Iron chain was being laid. Far north beyond the high pass, Dead feet shuffled through the snow. At Winter Ranch they built a box And found four hands who knew a rope. Silas stood above the plans, Coffee shaking in his hand. Sarah looked across the table. “You sure this works?” Silas considered. “Not remotely.” [PAUSE] “But it's a plan.” [CUT]
