Oh, no they didn't just shoot Kate's friend. She hangs back a moment, just to make sure Rachel'd be all right, and even though it looks like that bullet was no worse than a bee sting to the seven-hundred-pound grizzly, Kate still sees red.

She levels her Smith & Wesson .38 at the closest gunman, who's still a good hundred feet off, and tags him in the elbow. His pistol hits the dirt and he grabs his arm with a howl of pain. Sadly, it gets somewhat lost in the booming roar Rachel emits.

Kate blinks.

She watches for another few moments, counting heads — and, most importantly, guns — before a bullet hums by her ear. Beaut whinnies and starts, and Kate knows it's time to go. She trusts Rachel to take care of herself. Even if she has every intention of coming right back here if the girl doesn't meet up at the checkpoint in the next half hour.

With just two men running out of the sheriff's office (and one stopping, turning partially liquid, and running back), three in the street, and a whole lot of innocent women and children running for cover, she doesn't think it'll even take her that long.

She spurs Beaut forward, bonnet flying clean off her head and tumbling in the dirt behind her.

Yep.

That went well.