Her head throbbed something awful and she groaned as she awoke in a strange bed. Sitting bolt upright she glanced around her at the simple but neat decor, the room was obviously a childs room and yet it had the strange sensation of having not been occupied for some time. She groaned again as she slid from the bed and moved to the door, opening it and glancing sheepishly outside. It was only then she realised her boots were amiss and swiftly glanced about her to look for them.<br/><br/>The swift movement did her no good whatsoever but at least she found her boots, clutching them she went into the hallway and called out, no one answered. Where was she? Not meaning to be nosey but knowing she had to be, Sarah opened the door to what was obviously the master bedroom, again the decor was simple enough and it was clear that someone had slept there. She was grateful then that no one had trespassed upon her person while she had been out cold. As she made her way into the kitchen she realised her mouth was dry about the same time that small flashed of the evening before came back to her.<br/><br/>She soon groaned again, recalling the relaying of her story to the Marshall and could only presume that he had brought her to his home to sleep off the effects. She found herself wondering where his wife and child were, for he certainly had them judging by the childs room but then again she noted how silent the place was and how devoid of toys and indeed a womans touch or recent touch was about the house.<br/><br/>Glancing out the window she saw the headstones of the nearby graveyard and winced at the view, about to turn away when she caught sight of the Marshall himself. For a long moment she stood there watching him before feeling guilty and turning away. Was he a widower then? Had he lost his child as well? She glanced about once more and could believe it were true. With a sigh she felt sorry for him, could empathise with him and decided as he had kindly taken her in, for she was certain that was his intention on bringing her here, then she could at the very least make the place look some what presentable.<br/><br/>Not sure what time he would return at, Sarah set to cleaning up, pulling on her boots and going outside to find a well. When she did find it, she loaded up the bucket and hauled it back to the house, proceeding to scrub and clean where she felt it needed it most. She hauled the sheets from his bed and scrubbed and washed them, certain that any man living alone would not have the sense to do so. She wrung them out and hung them up on the line to dry before continuing with her task.<br/><br/>By the time it was late afternoon, she had the place looking as clean as it could ever be. The intense heat had dried up the sheets in no time and after a strong heated iron had pressed them, Sarah had redressed the bed. She had also gone to great pains to scrub and clean herself, her hair brushed out and her poncho hanging up, all she had to wear was the waistcoat and leather trousers but they were sufficient. Feeling exhausted she put the water on the stove and waited for the pot of coffee to brew, sitting herself down at the table she removed her gun and began to practice what he had shown her the day before. If it killed her she would make sure she had a steady hand, no matter what.<br/>