Kate crosses the dry creek bed at a fast pace, moving up the slope on the opposite side into the dense collection of trees that occupy the far bank. Vaguely, she is aware of Cooper wheeling his horse around behind her, calling out to the two deputies that are in pursuit. As she barrels forward into the thick shadows of the forest she hears the noise of a shotgun blast, but recognizes that it is distant, and not aimed in her direction.

Soon, her lungs burning, she halts. Glancing up at the sun through the canopy of pine needles overhead, she sees that Lincoln proper remains north of her. Listening to the sounds of the surrounding valley for a moment, she hears nothing. She is, finally, truly alone.

The wayward outlaw stopped, collapsed, and rolled onto the ground.  Her voice hoarse and rough, she laughed.  She would have whooped, but for lack of breath.

That was one of THE stupidest things she'd ever done.  She could only pray it worked, and Kate blamed God for her problems, so the odds there weren't good.

All the same, if you were going to be an outlaw, it was good to be an outlaw.

After a few minutes to get her breath and her wits back, she realized she was in a bit of a fix.  Kate was a dedicated gunfighter, not a scout, not a ranger.  This would not be easy.

Getting back into town was easy enough, theoretically, but figuring out the best way back in was a trick too.  She'd have to wait for darkness or distraction or both.

Well first things first, time to look around a bit, make sure she actually was alone out here.

21:03, Today: Marshal, on behalf of Kansas Kate, rolled 19,4 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+6+6+1)19,4.  Notice.

Kate gets to her feet, scanning the pines, spruce, and cottonwoods that surround her for any hint of movement, any suggestion that someone might remain in the vicinity, still seeking her out.

The valley is still. Studying her surroundings for several minutes satisfies the outlaw that she is truly by herself, free of pursuers.

However, looking to the east, something catches Kate’s attention: A group of shapes, a short distance east of her location, each one no more than waist height, gathered in what looks to her like a clearing within a circle of piñon trees. Nothing appears threatening about the group of objects, but something about them suggests to Kate that they are manmade, and thus distinctly out of place amongst the untamed foliage that surrounds them.

Oh fantastic. She mused to herself sarcastically.

Kate was not naturally the curious short, curiosity got you shot, but man made suggested man and man's accoutrements, which might  be mighty useful right now.  Besides, she would need a spot to hole up in besides the tower, probably.

Cursing her own idiocy, she drew her Schofield and moved in, carefully.

Stepping close to the clearing, the identity of the objects becomes clear to the outlaw.

They are grave markers, perhaps ten in all. Most fashioned from wood. Several are simple, flat pieces of board with names carved onto their surfaces, but four are crosses, each of which carry no identification for who is buried before them. Two of the markers are made from stone, and it appears that names were once painted on them, but time and the elements have done away with all but the faintest traces of the writing.

But what draws Kate’s immediate attention are the graves themselves. Four of them appear to have been hurriedly dug up, the dirt thrown violently and haphazardly on all sides of the hole, each of the wooden coffins broken into pieces. From where she stands, Kate can see no trace of any remains within the burial plots that have been excavated.

What the ever-loving hell.

Well, that wasn't good.  The best possibilities Kate could think of were horrible.

Though the paint was faded and the coffins dug, she checked around carefully, and then out of horrible curiosity checked to see if there was any clue left who these people had been, after all the writing was very faint and not completely gone in  some cases, maybe even if a clue remained in the opened coffins.

With some patience, Kate is able to extract a pair of names from the eroded markers: Esam Painter and Rhoda Tulley. None of the grave stones, as best the outlaw can tell, offered any additional information such as dates of birth and death, or sentiments of any kind.

The open graves are completely empty, save for the broken pieces of lumber. Kate sees no traces of remains nor anything that might have belonged to any of the deceased within any of them.

Taking a step back and taking in the collection of isolated plots as a whole, Kate is left with the impression that she has stumbled onto what likely served as Lincoln’s “Boot Hill” once upon a time. The burial spot for criminals, castoffs, and undesirables.

Esam Painter.  Rhoda Tulley.

Kate wished she were a tracker.  She felt like these graves had been vandalized some time ago, but she had no idea.

Well, there wasn't much else to do here immediately.  She surveyed around and made sure there was nothing else here, then looked at the sun.

Did Kate run out toward the river, or the other way?  I'm going to have to figure out my approach back to town and it matters which side she's on.

OOC: Kate’s dash out of town took her south of Lincoln, in the oppposite direction of the the Rio Bonito river and the Capitan Mountains. The range can serve as one landmark the outlaw can utilize to orient herself. She’ll need to travel directly north to reach Lincoln’s Main Street again.

All right, there wasn't much for it.  Lincoln wasn't that big.  She'd have to cut east or west and then try to turn back north again, hoping she didn't go in circles or overshoot it.

The directions, she'd just have to do her best on.  At least the distance she could track.  Kate ran her fingers down her gunbelt and counted off ten rounds, and left a gap in the eleventh loop.  Each time she took a step she could count off with her left hand and pocket a round from the other side of the belt with her right when she reached ten.

The only question was east or west...

lol unless there's an obvious clue, she just picks one?

OOC: The courthouse is at the west end of Lincoln’s Main Street, so moving in an easterly direction is likely Kate’s safest bet.

Using her best approximation, based on the position of the sun and mountains, Kate sets off in a northerly direction, shifting her steps to the east as she uses her rounds to track the extent of her progress. By the time she has pocketed nine of them, she finds herself back at the now familiar dry creek bed at the foot of the forested slope, close to the spot where she was finally able to elude her pursuers for good.

Edging further ahead a few paces, the outlaw is able to see Lincoln’s Main Street once again through the screen provided by the trees.

Kate nodded.  It wouldn't do to just pop back out right now, she would at least wait for dark.  She figured out where Wilson's was, and then skirted about town.  She needed a hidey hole.  She had to make at least some effort to look a tiny bit different before she came back in after dark.

Moving along the creek bed for several paces, Kate locates a hollow on one side, partially concealed by the hanging roots of an aging pine tree. The interior resembles a tiny cave, just large enough for a pair of people to tuck themselves inside. Peeking out of the hiding spot, Kate can see a portion of Main Street if she cranes her neck,  though she doesn’t have a clear view of Wilson’s Saloon.

A few insects buzz through the nearby foliage. Otherwise, the forest is still.

OOC: Once you’ve outlined Kate’s next steps, kindly give me a Notice roll.

Insects were an annoyance.  Kate wasn't much of a ranger but she could do with some tinder, might not need it right away, but some dry wood was good to gather.  A nice big one to prop up some of her gear would be any better.  A brush that could serve as a broom might be nice too.

Sure.  As Kansas Kate plays Better Homes and Gardens with the cave:

21:01, Today: Kansas Kate rolled 5,11 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,(6+5)11.  Notice.

Venturing back out, Kate is able to locate an armful of dry piñon branches, along with a stout pine limb that can be stood on its end and used to hang some of her gear. After placing her finds in her shelter, she steps out again, searching for a broom, finally happening upon a thick piece of cottonwood with several thin offshoots that will suffice for the job.

Turning back in the direction of her shelter, the outlaw catches sight of a figure through the trees, walking slowly through the forest. As best she can tell, his focus is on the ground and he doesn’t appear to be aware of her presence. A few moments after she spies him, he crouches down, examining the soil, plucking some of the dirt from the ground and rubbing it between his fingers. What she can perceive of his attire reminds her of a brave from one of the tribes from the nearby Coyote Confederation. His long, braided hair is silver.