"I happen to devour vegetables whenever I kin get some that aren't half-rotted. And soup sounds right nice."

"Then get your lazy bum over here and grab his arms."

"Fine!" Caldwell said and slowly wandered over to the unconscious bandit. He grabbed the man's arms and began tugging him toward the back cells.

The Marshal obliged to her part of the bargain by easily lifting the hooligan up by his bootstraps. The two didn't have much trouble at all packing the man away, despite Caldwell's moans and complaints.

"There, that wasn't too bad, was it?" The Marshal asked, pouring some water in the basin and lathering her hands.

"It was horrible, but if you could find it in your heart to give a man a drop or two of whiskey, I'd be just fine again."

"How about we compromise, and I give you a drop of soap so you can wash your hands?"

"If I washed my hands, then people would actually want to shake them and I don't like shakin' hands with people."

The Marshal raised an eyebrow.

"You just picked up a guy that you splashed with the contents of what?"

"Yeah, but I know where that stuff has been. I don't know where them other people's hands have been. They could have been anywhere."

The Marshal dried her hands.

"From now on, I'm lassoing you and throwing you raw meat from across the room."

"Can I start a campfire inside and cook the meat? Cause I don't like my steaks oozin' blood. That's just nasty."

The Marshal gave him the evil eye.

"No. Wash up."

Caldwell cringed and shuddered while washing his hands. The water looked suspiciously sludge-like when he was finished.

"Wow, I didn't know water could get that dirty..." there was a slight bit of awe in the Marshal's voice. "Anyway, have a seat in your cell. I need to go find Jed, and then I suppose you can eat something."

"Oh, good. I was hoping someone would let me have a chair," Caldwell said and began dragging Jed's sheriff chair toward his new cell.