Barlowe Station

"I should hope not. A few shots over their heads is all it would take. Probably. These are good people, but I won't let them lynch a man just because they think that's a good idea."

"Fair enough, and understood." Dirt responded, and found that he liked the man well enough. He knew the way people worked, same as Dirt did. Only difference was how they ended up on opposite sides of the law.

Or had they? Dirt was fixing to uphold the law in Varney Flats after all…

"Sounds like a fair offer. Besides, I like crowds. Perfect for selling to," she grins with a glint in her eye. "Or if we want to be proactive, I can make some sales before a mob has a chance to form that should keep most of the men indoors..."

Dillon listens and squints a little as the deputy explains. She knew there was a sour stank on this town, and there it was. Seeing agreement from the others, she nods and says, "We'll help, it's the right thing to do. But tell me -- how'd he do it, and why, this murderer in the back?"

After Parrish answers, the woman tilts her hat back slightly and presses a few soft spots. "So you'll get goin' after the Marshal then, makin' sure everythin's a-ok at that ranch of them Larkins? Who else you consider an ally in this matter, this possible lynchin'? Who all might give us a wink if trouble's comin'?"

To her companions, she adds, "We'll need to see if the engineer will hold the train -- or I'll at least need to send word on to my gainful employers regardin' the delay." She likes the idea of distractin' the townsfolk, as well, and gives beautiful Ruby a quick nod. If anything can take mens' minds off a revenge killin,' it's legs like Reyes got.

"That's a good idear, that is, Ms. Ruby. We should meet them townsfolk where they are, in the saloon or the church, wherever they might congregate. Distract 'em, let 'em know the law ain't in their hands. Nip it in the bud-like."

"I won't say no to a whiskey a tall, ma'am. That's for sure. You'll drum up some business for your potions and whatnot too I reckon."

Kane figures if he misses the train, what of it? He can just take the next one, or the one after that.

Dirt knew that people fought hardest when you went to where they were. Folk felt emboldened when they were on their home turf. Still, the woman carried or badge, or would soon carry one in any case. Maybe that meant something around here.

"Lead on then!" he says with a nod, and sets his face hard. Let the common man see his scowl from the outset and it might shake them up.

The Palace Saloon

The deputy returns to his spot by the telegraph office to keep an eye on things and especially the jail.

You make your way to the saloon, ready to intervene in stopping any disorderly conduct and mob justice before it gets too free in the reins. A small number of folks have gathered, quietly sitting at tables, wiling away the afternoon heat. A pair of nearly-old timers sit drinking beer and playing whist. A well dressed man behind the bar polishes for glasses and puts them on the bar top, smiling broadly at you. "Welcome to the Palace. Can I pour you all a beer, or is whiskey your poison?"

Doesn't look like much of much is going on at the moment.

Kane chuckles at the name of the joint. He'd hardly call it a palace. Still, it might be a place to the owner so he shouldn't judge.

"A whiskey for me. I'm parched."

Kane lets his eyes casually drift around the saloon, quickly assessing the patrons. Finding nothing out of the ordinary nor hearing the rumblings of an angry mob, he turns back to the barman.

"What do people do for fun around here?"

He pours Kane a whiskey (and to anyone else who signals).

"Not much fun to be had. We got faro on Fridays. I call it," he gestures in the air as if describing a sign, "Faro Friday at the Palace. Gonna make a sign and everything. Get some excitement from train folk who think they can do what they please."

"Just a beer for me," Ruby says as she sits down. It is too early and too hot to be downing the strong stuff, especially with what they might have to deal with soon.

"It sounds like you don't have a high opinion of us train folk," she states casually.

"I’ll take one of them beers, too." Dirt says, with a flick of the wrist, and pointing to the spot in front of him on the counter.

"Train folk doing what they like?" Dirt says incredulous. "With a lawman like that in town? Fella just about talked my ear off, warning me not to get up to mischief while I’m here." Dirt goes on, throwing his eyes up to heaven and making himself seem awfully put out by the whole interaction.

He slides beers in front of you, giving Ruby a couple extra blinks. "I'm not disparaging you folks. Some come through and think nothing about leaving a mess behind is all."

He sees a tall man come in and he gets a little grimmer. He moves off to pour another drink, and says, "My name's Jake, pleased to meet you all. Need anything, just holler "

"Make it three, sir," Delilah says to the bartender as he pours. She’s quiet as the others converse with the man, getting the lay of the saloon and a read on its occupants.

"Thank you Jake, you won’t get no trouble from us," the woman says after a moment as she sips her beer and raises it to the man in a silent cheers. Froth on her upper lip, she keeps an eye on the coming exchange…

Dirt takes a drink from his bottle, and nods to the man as he goes to leave. He drinks again, and raises an eyebrow to the others at the strange behavior.

He turns then, and puts his elbows up on the bar, and rests against the counter top, taking in the room. He spies the tall man that caused the sudden change in the bartender most of all.

Ruby takes a sip. "Don't look like Jake's expecting happy news from that fella."

Kane knocks back his whiskey and thinks about tapping the bar counter for another but decides against it. He might be needing his wits about him.

"No it don't look like he has a high opinion of whoever he is. We could ask Jake about the feller? Might be a friend of Abner Knaggs. "

He can't help but overhear and says, "That there's Sam Varney, the mayor. He's up to something, I can tell. I don't reckon I know what it is, but I don't like it."

Sidling right up to the bar, the boots she wears under her skirt thumping lightly, Dillon sips at her beer and keeps her voice low-key as she addresses the barkeep.

"What’s his story? The deputy told us he has it in for the guy locked up in the jail. Said he might even try somethin’. He got some men in his employ?"

Dirt looks at the soon-to-be-Marshal and asks:

"You thinking to put a stop to this quiet, before it starts up? Or you looking to call this fella out in front of the whole town?" he asks, knowing which he would choose.

Well, he knows what he might be tempted to do in a situation like this. But that wasn’t the law man’s way, he reckoned. It wasn’t his way anymore neither, but old habits die hard.