Jules wasn't sure if the men who collected the bandits were official law enforcement or not, but it did not seem prudent at the moment to ask.  Sighing in relief, she turned and decided the best thing for the moment was to get the horses somewhere secure just in case more madness broke out.  There seemed to be a stable down at the end of the street, at least if her rusty Spanish was translating<i>La Casa del Caballos </i>right, although she shuddered to think at the cost of housing and feeding the enormous black quartet.  She had just laid her gun on the seat of the wagon and was about to unhitch the team when she heard a voice behind her.<br/><br/>It was the one armed man--Jeb?  That seemed to be the name the other man had called him earlier.  Looking a bit dusty but otherwise none the worse for wear, he seemed most apologetic for tossing his tin plate of food into the dirt, a crime so ridiculous it almost made the redhead laugh.  "Oh...oh it's no trouble.  That was very brave of you, to charge the bank like that," Jules remarked, quickly turning her face back to the horses so he wouldn't see her expression.  Her hands moved quickly and precisely on the fastenings just as easily as they did arranging type, but her entire body froze at the idea of Jeb's waiving his pay.<br/><br/><i>Giving up five dollars?  </i>That would at least keep the horses for a few days, and Jess would be over the moon.  However when the tall woman turned around, the expression on her face was curious.  "Keep your name out of the papers?"  Well, that was easy enough, considering she didn't even know his last name, and she knew from traveling there were at least fifty Jebs west of the Mississippi.  But the tone of her voice was asking "why" more than "how."  For a moment, she pressed closer to the horses in caution, her large brown eyes scanning for any sign that the man in front of her might be a robber, a murderer, or some other such monster.  He certainly had a rough look about him, but not an unfriendly one.<br/><br/>Still, it seemed safest if she didn't ask too many questions.  "Well, I can try," she said finally, freeing the horses from the wagon.  "But I'm not the chief editor, Jess is.  She's the one who decides what goes into the paper and what doesn't.  The only things I write are the filler pieces, you know: reprints from the eastern papers, recipes, silly little made-up stories here and there.  Mostly I just do the proofing and run the press, and my sister does all the real reporting.  But considering she missed...well, everything, I suppose, I can't imagine she would know you were involved, Mr. Jeb."<i>And wouldn't that steam her</i>Jules thought, with more wickedness than she liked.  It was a bitter irony that Jess had missed the action that would have made their headline, but the redhead couldn't help but think it served her right just a little, leaving her to do all the heavy lifting and overpaying the help to chip in.<br/><br/>"I'll do my best though," Jules said finally.  "Jess rarely reads anything she didn't write herself, and I certainly won't include you in anything.  Not without asking you first at least."  Leading the horses down the street, she inclined her head invitingly towards the barbershop-turned-news-office.  "There's a little more of that panbread on the stove if you want some.  Help yourself!"<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">*****<br/>​</div>"Mr. Miller, you're a regular knight in shining armor," Jess grinned, scrambling ungracefully onto the horse's back.  In the years since leaving Chicago she'd mastered the basics of riding horses, but with her short stature and unsteady movements the beasts never seemed to take too kindly to her.  Luckily, the woman considered ignoring people's dislike of her one of her strong points, which was why she wasted no time in pulling up alongside the big Huntington rep.<br/><br/>He of course wasted no time in guessing--nay,<i>accusing--</i>her career, which only made her laugh again.  "That's a sharp guess, mister.  If you weren't clearly working for the little blonde gal I saw back in town, I'd have guessed you were with the Pinkertons."  Pausing, Jess tilted her head in a sharp, birdlike manner that nearly sent her bowler hat flying off of her tousled brown hair.  "Maybe a<i>former</i>Pinkerton, guessing by your age?  Oh, that's not to be an insult though.  I like experienced fellas like yourself, you always have the best stories.  And I'm sure you can imagine why a woman like myself would be so interested in stories."<br/><br/>Turning her gaze straight forward again, the little woman stretched her neck slightly and smoothed down her skirt, grateful for the horse's wide back that made it easy to sit sidesaddle.  "That 'big woman,' as you so impolitely called her, is my sister Julia.  And our name isn't Prewitt, it's Barrow, although we've got some cousins by that name down in Kansas City.  By the by, if you were talking to Jacobs about me, which I imagine you were, Dale Prewitt really did come west to be a miner.  We're pretty sure he got hit by a train up near Salt Lake City though.  Still, my only real lie to that poor dumb man up at the mine was that I was his sister.  So don't think too poorly of Jessamine Barrow, if you can help it.  I'm just doing the work of an educated society, you know?"<br/><br/>"Which begs the question," the woman's dark eyes narrowed as they seemed to drill into his profile.  "Why would you or Missy Huntington be so keen on my not asking questions about what happened up at the mine?  It's a small town you know, people are going to find out there's nine men dead and three missing.  Are you worried my rinky-dink li'l paper is going to make it all the way back to...Atlanta, I'm guessing?  And spread the story about a Huntington mine having a cave-in?  Doesn't seem likely<i>or</i>impactful, if you ask me.  Unless you know something more about it?"<br/><br/>Before she could continue this line of questioning though, they arrived in town among the aftermath of the robbery.  "Jiminy Christmas, what the fuck did I miss?" Jess shrieked, forgetting about her companion entirely and leaping off the horse's back.  She landed on her feet like a cat, then took off running towards the barbershop.  "Jules?  Jules goddammit, where are you?" she roared, storming through the door and looking around for any sign of her sister.