The ground grew increasingly rocky and the trees scarcer as Caldwell ventured further along the canyon rim. His horse stumbled a few times, but seemed to handling the terrain okay. Still, Caldwell had a feeling he would be making the tail end of the journey on foot.

"Ain't seen no signs of no camp anywhere. They must be hidin' in a cave or somethin'. And I hate caves. Spiders and slimy wiggly things and stuff with teeth bigger than your thumb. Stupid caves," Caldwell grumbled.

Ahead of Caldwell was a rugged conglomeration of shattered boulders. The ground was too tricky to lead the horse into, so Caldwell dismounted and proceeded on foot. He began to get an itchy feeling between his shoulder blades. He slid his rifle off of his back and set it to fire. He had a feeling he might need it.

Off course, that was when he heard the quiet but spine-chilling sound of a shotgun cocking just outside of his peripheral vision.

"Drop the lightning gun and get your hands in the air," a voice rasped from behind Caldwell.

"Now what's goin' on here? I'm just out for a ride, lookin' for some jackrabbits to shoot for some dinner," Caldwell said. He set the rifle down and snuck a glance over his shoulder. The shotgun was sticking out of the thick shrubbery he'd just past.

"How dumb do you think I am, Caldwell? Your face is only on every wanted poster west of the Mississippi. I'm pretty sure blind nuns know what you look like," the apparently talking and gun-holding brush replied.

"Oh. Um. Can I interest you in the whereabouts of the Marshal and her posse? Because I would be willin' to sell them out in exchange for you not shootin' me," Caldwell's eyes darted all around for some advantage to reverse his and the bandit's roles. Rambling monologues were his default means of stalling in the meantime.

"Sadly, I am not allowed to put a load of buckshot in your face region, Caldwell. We're plannin' on havin' a nice execution for you in our camp. It will be a long and arduous affair. I do so long to hear you cryin' for your momma as you breath your last," the voice continued from the bush as said bush began to rustle as the figure within attempted to exit. "Dangit, stupid thorns."

Caldwell snuck another glance over his shoulder and saw what his would-be captor had managed to do, which was get their gun snarled up as they tried to exit their cover. Caldwell saw a chance and took it, springing forward toward the cover of a large boulder. He grabbed the strap of his rifle as he moved and yanked it after him. A loud blast rang out and one of the shotgun's barrels spewed a deadly cloud of lead pellets after him, but he was safely behind the stone cover.

"Caldwell, alive does not mean all of your limbs and extremities in nice workin' condition, you ornery snake!" the bandit shouted.

Caldwell fiddled with the stock of his rifle, withdrawing a small mirror hidden inside. He used it to catch sight of what the bandit was doing on his side of Caldwell's cover. Caldwell was surprised to see the attempted captor was young, probably fifteen or sixteen. Someone's dumb kid brother who insisted on riding along, no doubt.

"Hey Caldwell, did you come out here after that girl we captured? Thought maybe you all would be stupid enough to come out of the town after her. After we get done with you, she's next. I wonder if she'll scream more than you?"

Caldwell's eyes narrowed as a gust of pure rage went through him. He grabbed for a handful of rocks and used the mirror to aim them perfectly. They slammed into the bandit's face and he recoiled backward. He nearly dropped the gun and that gave Caldwell the opening he needed. He rolled out from behind the boulder and fired. The blast slammed straight into the bandit's chest, stopping his heart instantly. He fell where he stood without a sound.

The relative peace had graced Jed with a short period of time to think certain things through. Thinking was not a strong point of his, but in a pinch he could get it done and he came out of the session with a renewed sense of determination. Somewhere out there was his sister, no one hurt her and survived. If that took working with two very unlikable people, so be it.

Right then a blast interrupted his train of thoughts and his mind instantly realized that Caldwell had gone and done something extremely stupid. It only took him a minute to reach the criminal, only a minute to reach the dead kid.

"Well, that's one down."

---

"Sounds like one of your boys just ran into our lookout," Abby pointed out coolly. "Wonder how that went."

"I've a feeling it went badly for yours," the Marshal muttered, stepping back and hooking her gun around her ankle before kicking it into the air and catching it.

"But I think it's best I disappear now. You've got my number, so call me, maybe?" she asked, winking and then disappearing into the rocky crags. It did not take her long to get back to her horse, and she mounted and headed back to the meeting point, but never made it to her destination. Glancing down into one of the ravines, she saw Jed and Caldwell's horses.

"Diyu," she muttered, swinging around heading into the ravine. She caught the horses' reins, jerked them loose, then hurried down the ravine.

"You idiots," she said, glaring down from her rocky perch at them. "You're going to bring the entire lot of them down on us. Let's go."

"Sorry, Marshal. He got the drop on me. Didn't have a choice in the matter. Dumb kid wanted to be a hero," Caldwell said. He was crouched over the body, closing the kid's eyes, when the Marshal rode up.

"Forget about the niceties, saddle up and let's go," she snarled, pulling the horses around. "I can't get down there. Get back to the mouth of the ravine."

She wheeled around and trotted off, the horses trailing behind her.

Jed didn't need a second order, he could read the signs. Soon enough, the bandits would investigate that gunshot. The three of them alone wouldn't be able to take on the gang in that instance. Their whole plan had revolved around the element of surprise, now that the element had been eliminated, it was time to beat a hasty retreat. He scaled the rocky ridge quickly enough and soon found himself following in the Marshal's footsteps, catching up to her soon enough.

"Find anything?"

"Perhaps...might be nothing, might be something good. Char's safe, at least for now, though," the Marshal said, holding Jed's horse steady as he mounted. She tossed Caldwell's reins to the outlaw, then wheeled her mount around and trotted off.

"No time to talk. Let's go!" She called.

Caldwell mounted in a hurry, glancing behind him in the supposed direction of the outlaw camp. There wasn't a sign of pursuit ... yet.

The threesome rode silently, the horses' hooves pounding against the dusty ground. They rode abreast, none pulling ahead, none falling behind, keeping a steady pace and raising too much dust. Dust came with speed and multiple riders, things that the Marshal was not too fond of. Then again, everyone knew where they were headed, so what was the point of trying to hide the trail?

They slowed to a trot as they neared the town, passing the graveyard on their way in.

"Stop," the Marshal said suddenly, pulling her horse in front of Caldwell's. His steed snorted in surprise, but stopped.

"Rifle," she said, holding out her hand. "Now."

Caldwell almost argued, but thought better of it. He was treading thin ice as it was and arguing with the Marshal was likely to get him thrown back in the cell, a place he wasn't keen to revisit. He slid the rifle's strap off of his shoulder and handed the gun to the Marshal.

"Pull your hat down," the Marshal said, swinging the rifle over her head and shoulder, letting it lie cross her back. "And let me talk, if anyone has to."

"I don't reckon the hat is going to do much to keep folks from recognizing me," Caldwell said. "Ain't there a sneakier way into town?"

"Unlike in the old days, where there was unlimited access from any point, a higher level of bandit activity has caused the kind people of Sagebrush to invest in a wall. So, short answer, no."

Caldwell pulled his hat down low and pulled his collar up and slumped into his best tired rider posture, trying to minimize the chances of someone spotting his face and promptly beginning a shootout.

As they were riding just through the gate in the direction of the sheriff's office, the elderly town doctor lurched into sight, cursing the weather, his leg, and the general unfairness of a cold and meaningless universe. He had a bottle Tarnation Andy's Cure-All Elixir of Vitality (Now With 100% More Life-Enhancing Herbal Blends From the Orient!) in one hand. It was debatable whether it was the bottle or his leg which made his gait more uneven.

"You got that no good varmint riding with you like a free man?" the doctor bellowed. Fortunately there weren't many people on the street at the moment and most ignored the doctor. Shouting insults at people in the street wasn't unusual behavior for him, even before noon on a weekday. "Next I suppose you'll be givin' him a key to the city and makin' him mayor. This is why you don't let no woman ride around thinkin' she can be a lawman."

"Reynolds, yesterday you turned down the chance to duel with me in the street because you know you aren't a good shot. Hail, you aren't even a shot. You're slow on the draw, and you can't aim to save your life. Now, out of this little town, who do you think I'm more likely to take with me when I need an extra hand? You, Cog Leg, or a man who's earned a name for himself taking nice shots with a lightening rifle?"