With a stop at the undertakers to drop off the body into his care thy remounted and Speed turned to Quentin, "Take up on the steak,I'll buy the drinks. Do need to stop and retrieve my badge tho." He grinned, "been a hell of a day, ain't it?"

Quentin nodded. "If you're buying drinks, I'll have the good stuff, and yes...quite a day..." Quentin paused a moment, then stuck his hand out. "Pleasure working with you today, Marshal...you're good troop."

"And you, sir, as well. But the evening is quite young yet, no telling what awaits us at the hotel." Speed said smiling. Quentin was a good man to have when the chips were down, that was for sure.

They had not seen Case Steelgrave cross the street from the Stardust saloon, not yet drunk, but more belligerent that when he was completely sober. "Got the last one, did you? I'm surprised at the both of you, draggin' the body in here to show off to the townies. Shoulda buried him out on the prairie, all he deserved.

"Rustler. Had some of Roberson's stock. Brought him in for identification, that is if he's known." Speed said, suddenly disliking him instantly. He was different than the man he hauled out of the Rubble that was Whitefish. "You'll excuse us, we've other matters to attend to." Speed abruptly turned and mounted up.

Case simply stood looking at the pair, but finally said. "My regards to Shade, Quentin."

Quentin nodded at Steelgrave, he knew he should just be the bigger man and let it go at that, but he had heard and seen too much about Case Steelgrave not to somehow figure this involved him...some how...some way...but nothing he could prove. "What's wrong, Case? He one of yours?"

Quentin had spent several years helping people and dealing with many different kinds of unsavory characters, and one thing he had learned both over a gun and a card table was how to see when something had hit home. Case was good, he grabbed his reaction internally and wrestled it back into a calm expression in seconds, but Quentin saw his eyes and the momentary stiffening of his muscles in those few moments as the words hit home.

Quentin decided to press a bit. "You planning to become Sheriff so you can keep your little criminal enterprises going in safety outside of town? You're going to need a lot better class of weasel than what you have currently..."

Quentin's right hand had been resting near his belt buckle and as he spoke it had slid under the edge of his coat to rest on the butt of his Colt that sat on his left side, crossdraw style. Quentin knew on horseback he could never draw his Smith from his right side fast enough for someone with Case's reputation, and giving Case an even chance was not something Mrs. Cantrell had ever raised her son to do on purpose.

"What's wrong, Case? He one of yours?"

Speed turned his head so the smile wasn’t seen by Case, no sense infuriating him.

"You planning to become Sheriff so you can keep your little criminal enterprises going in safety outside of town? You're going to need a lot better class of weasel than what you have currently..."

 “You so of a bitch, climb down here and go for your gun!” Case screamed at Quentin.

Before Case knew what happened, speed wheeled his horse right into Steelgrave, knocking him to the ground. The Town Marshal was out of the saddle and on Case before he recovered. He punched him in the jaw, then jerked his pistol from it’s holster. “You’re under arrest Steelgrave. I don’t tolerate no trouble in my town.” He jerked him upright. “You’re drunk Case, a night in the hoosgow ought to cure that.” He pushed him toward the jail, ignoring the crowd that gathered.

He jerked him upright. “You’re drunk Case, a night in the hoosegow ought to cure that.” He pushed him toward the jail, ignoring the crowd that gathered.

Quentin was so surprised by Speed's reaction that he drew the Colt out of reflex, yanking Paladin a bit sideways to cover them both with the smaller revolver before he realized Speed had everything under control. Quentin's head tilted and the corner of his mouth quirked up to see Case Steelgrave so unceremoniously manhandled. Quentin slid the Colt back out of sight and slid down from the saddle, moving around to unhitch Speed's horse and keep Paladin's rein in his hand, staying over to the side of the growing crowd as he moved around toward Speed and his prisoner.

Quentin's eyes moved over the crowd of various onlookers as he looked for any problems. Case had his hands full with the unsteady and still muttering Case. Purposeful movement at the rear of the crowd caught his eye and he saw a pair of cowpunchers pushing through the loose gathering. A tall mean looking sort and a smaller, more reticent one right behind him. Quentin let out a breath along with a quiet curse as he realized both were heading right for Speed with definite intentions.

Dropping the reins of the horses he had been leading, Quentin pushed through the crowd, his right hand moving subtly as he walked, sliding his Smith and Wesson from its holster and holding it down along his leg, out of sight of the two as he arrived between the lead man and Speed. "Boys...I'm pretty sure this is none of your business. Marshal is just doing his job. Go on about your business if you don't want to join that man in a cell..."

"That's our boss and you ain't got no damn badge, you can't tell us what to do!" Greer snarled.

Quentin gave a slow smile. "Does me not having a badge make me less dangerous...or more?" His glance darted to the younger companion of the big mouth before him, but he looked to have already decided not to try anything for the moment. Quentin turned his attention back to the bigger man again.

"But just so you know, I've been helping the marshal all day so as far as you're concerned I am wearing a badge until he says I'm not..." Quentin's eyes narrowed "...You look a little less sure of yourself when you're not pushing a girl around. I'm not a girl and my back isn't turned...what are you gonna do now, big mouth?"