Abby smiled, her curiosity satisfied.

"Now that's a plan I can get behind."

Caldwell's expression was sour, but he asked, "What exactly am I going to be doing? Besides being shot at?"

"I would advise ducking," the Marshal said, beginning to draw around the campsite. "Though I will give you back your gun. That should flush enough of them out of the camp. With any luck, you can get Char out unseen, and we'll be clear to move the posse in."

The Marshal looked over at Jed.

"Speaking of, how many good shots do you think you could pull together out of this town?"

"I reckon ten crack shots, but if all we need is a body with a gun in front of it I can probably convince up to twenty idiots to tag along with us."

The Marshal nodded.

"So you're asking if I want to choose to let more bodies drop or not," she said slowly. "The goal is to get Char out. For now. We'll need all the help we can get if they decide to retaliate."

She thought for a few moments.

"Ang Mo, your Winchester needs to keep out of our way, but ye can't keep going back and forth. You both will need to choose a side to be on after tonight."

Abby crossed her arms, "you ain't gotta worry none about my winchester, she'll be on your side when the fight'n starts."

"Good, then you two can be on the Caldwell retrieval team. I suppose it wouldn't be nice to leave him high and dry, but it's quite tempting. I'll get Char, and we'll meet back here once we've finished, however long that takes."

"Well, I'd better go rustle me up some rifles. Whenabouts are we planning on kicking off this hoedown??"

"I'm thinking a small bit after dark. I'll set Caldwell afoot and circle around while Abby heads off to her camp. You give us a head start, then pull together a small posse. Just make sure you don't have any hot heads who'll think they can take on Meyers' whole gang. Best case, nobody dies. Worse case, there'll be a nice slaughter out there. Let's stick the the former. Maybe take that doctor with ye--he's been nosing around enough, but he's as yellow-bellied as any snake I've ever seen. Maybe he'll rub off on some of the others."

Jed listened for a moment, then grabbed his hat and placed it firmly down onto his head, nearly covering his eyes. He stood, turned around and walked to the door, "sounds like a plan, Marshal." Said the sheriff, over his shoulder. Then he was gone, phased into the desert heat. Meanwhile, the redhead remained where she was, watching. A corner of her mouth turned upward in an amused smirk.

"He always that melodramatic?"

"You should have seen him when he was knee high, and I had to put lavender oil in his hair," the Marshal chuckled. "It was the crucifixion and his own martyrdom rolled into one."

Abigail looked at the Marshal like the woman was crazy, a confused look dominating her expression.

"Why in the blue blazes did you put oil in his hair?"

"Hmm? Oh, you've never heard of putting lavender oil in your hair?" the Marshal made a face. "Helps kill and prevent lice. Isn't a fail safe method, but good enough for the West."

"Are you freaking serious? Growing up my Natet would break out the snips at the first sight of a bug. You're telling me I could have used friggen oil all these years? Do you know what walking around bald does to a sixteen year old's psyche?"

The marshal snickered, the coughed shortly.

"Natet?" she asked. "You're from the Pacific coast?"