"Not particularly, I'm just a bit concerned about drawing attention. Not looking like a girl would help in such a venture. And not, you know, like a marshal. I did just shoot your 'boss' a day and a half ago."

"Fair enough, how'd you even land the marshaling gig anyways? Isn't that strictly a man's domain? Not judging you of course, I ain't that type of girl. Heck, I catch enough heat in my occupation, just curious is all."

The marshal laughed shortly, almost like a vocalized exhale.

"Sometimes, I guess, it just comes down to being in the right place at the right time and the right people noticing you," she shifted in her saddle. "Why? Thinking of taking up a badge?"

"Not a chance, the money is better over here anyways. Besides I don't reckon that I'd pass the background check."

The marshal chuckled.

"Quite true, a steady paycheck is nothing compared to profiteering among the questionably employed. But if you ever choose to settle for less exciting profit and loss brackets, you might look into it yourself. A decent brain never hurt a badge."

She shifted a bit in her saddle, then slowed her horse.

"I think I'll take a moment to change here. Ride on if you want--I'll catch up."

"What, you don't trust me to watch your back?" Abigail chuckled just a bit, "That's a bit rude if you ask me. I'll be down the road a-ways. Lemme know when you're finished fixing your makeup."

The Marshal chuckled and dismounted. She watched Abigail for a few minutes, then opened up her saddle bag. She was not exactly happy about showing off her tricks to Abby, but it seemed a necessity at the moment.

It took her only a few minutes to change--thanks to years of practice, she had managed to develop a well-set system of unpacking, changing, and repacking her bags. The hard rock, too, required little editing to cover her tracks, although she doubted much of anyone would actually do such due diligence at this hour of the night. She remounted and urged her horse into a brisk trot.

"Alright, I'm back," she said, slowing as she rejoined Abigail. "Hopefully the boys are on time."

She wore a plain hickory shirt, paired with a tan vest and a generic pair of military pants, the sort that many of the older cowboys favored. A watch chain dangled from one of the pockets and a silk kerchief was loosely tied around her neck. A wide brim felt hat was placed firmly upon her head, and what little could be seen of her hair followed a generic side part, the rest tucked up into the hat. At first glance it belied a popular cut nearer to San Francisco, but closer inspection hinted at longer hair, especially near the nape of the neck. Perhaps the most striking was the fact that her face looked so much thinner. It took Abby a moment to realize that the Marshal hadn't so much fixed her makeup, as simply taken it all off. Her chest, too, was significantly flatter, making her appear much more like a very small cowboy.

Abigail chuckled at the Marshal's getup, "I'm not sure I'd fall for it, but then again men are known to be morons. Speaking of which, you're putting a lot of faith in this backwater sheriff aren't you? What's that all about?"

The Marshal grinned.

"You'd be surprised what I can get away with when I'm around men. I put my hair in a braid once and tied an apron around my waist and everyone thought I was the barber's coolie."

She soured slightly at the mention of Jed.

"Kid's an idiot. Always has been. But he's predictable enough. I've known him and Char since they were ankle biters. Took them in for a spell after their pa got shot. They got a chance to settle in a halfway decent spot in town, so I let them and subsidized when needed. Better than them floating around with me. Anyway, kid's been left with boots too big to fill, and he's making a mess of it, but he's all for keeping his little sister safe, so he'll do as he's told, and fight me about it later."

Abby stopped her horse on a dime, her mind flashing back to a conversation she'd had a few days prior. "Marshal I've heard that story before, a couple days ago in fact, so either my boss is full of it or you are. Either way we've got some figuring out to do."

The Marshal stopped equally quickly.

"There were exactly seven people involved in that incident. Four of them are supposed to be dead, one is Jed, and one is Char. You've played coy with your master's name. I need to know it."

"First of all, he's not my master, if anything he's more like the Pa I never had. Second of all, the man will definitely have my head if I tell you. So unless you've got a real convincing reason for me to give his name up, I'd rather not."

"Because if I don't like him, I will take his head off, with my bare hands if necessary."

The Marshal shifted, exhaling sharply through her nose.

"Does he pass as white?"

"You aren't gonna give up, are you? Here, I'll cut you a deal, plus I'm curious myself. You keep this between you and me alright? His name is Winchester, Daniel. Don't call him Danny or he gets pissed. Trust me, I know from past experience. You know him?"

The Marshal grimaced.

"Yeah, I know him. I, um, well, he's just not going to be too happy to see me," she said, urging her horse forward. "Or me him, for that matter, the lying McMuffin."