"Shut up before I shoot you, Caldwell!" the Marshal yelled back. "I'm working on it!"

She shook her head and looked back at Jed.

"You're not ready to listen to what I know about your own past, and until you can stomach that, I'm not going to even think about telling you mine. You made it clear enough last night what you wanted."

She eased down on her back again.

"Once Char's safe, I'll head out and you won't hear from me again."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Jed wasn't going to back down on this, he had always played the loyal attack dog. Not this time, not anymore.

The Marshal finished fiddling, then slowly got up. She wasn't quite as spry as she used to be, but she stood and dusted herself off and put her hat and coat on.

"So are we done here, did you disarm the thing?"

"Hmm?" The Marshal adjusted her hat and then looked back at him. "Oh, yes. You're fine."

"So, have you got any inkling of where these fella's might be hiding?" Jed nervously stepped off the mine, he hadn't realized how much his leg was shaking until that moment. Thankfully, the Marshal knew exactly what she was doing an the bomb failed to explode in their face.

"I'm pretty sure I know exactly where he is. Well, fifty-fifty split, on it, more likely. But if whoever's heading them up now has any brains, and apparently they do, they'll have settled in very well and have a lookout set. Still, won't hurt to ride by. No shooting, though, at least, none that gets started by us."

"Yes ma'am," Jed saddled up. He was content to let her run the show. For now, anyways.

The Marshal walked over to Caldwell and jerked the reins to her horse away from him.

"Did you hear that, Caldwell?" she asked. "No shooting."

"Fine. But I want to get to shoot somebody at some point on this trip," Caldwell grumbled.

"Do I need to take your baby away from you until shooting starts?"

Caldwell held the gun as far away from the Marshal as he could and shook his head vigorously.

"Nope, no reason to do anythin' that drastic, Marshal. We'll be good."

"Then no shooting--not until either I tell you so or we're being fired on. Understood?" The Marshal inspected her saddle, then the guns attached to it. "Jed? Get everything ready to fire, just in case. Caldwell, you're a sharpshooter, right?"

Jed checked his pistols, both of them just to be sure. They were prepped and ready to fire, as always. Then he mounted up onto his grey horse, Shelby was his name. The animal had served Cane for many years and he was the only thing of the old Sheriff's that Jed had kept.

"I once won a shiny silver trophy for my rifle shootin' which I promptly traded for liquor and other assorted things not mentionable in polite company, so you could call me a sharpshooter if you wanted to," Caldwell replied.