<div class="floatleft">(http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_laq7bxEF4g1qzd1axo1_500.jpg)</div><br/>Sarah was not the only one to go under subtle changes. He was taken aback when he saw the woman make use of his wife's clothing but out of that he found the clothing of a rancher, the clothes he wore before he began to walk with the black duster and hat that made him look like death itself. His reputation had not wavered, no one could claim that Uther had suddenly become merciful.<br/><br/>That evening he sat at the table in his kitchen, waiting for the woman with a vendetta to arrive. The table held both his revolvers, two rifles and a few boxes of ammunition to split between the two. Uther was serious when he told her they would be be gone for a few days and the last thing he wanted was to find themselves ill prepared without ammunition, food or supplies. His hands were steady, the influence of liquor long gone.<br/><br/>The Marshall of Oasis had taken a personal interest in the woman's hunger for revenge but he was unsure why. Was it because she was a spit image of his deceased wife? Her face confused him, it was as if it was her but not. In her day she was a tough and ruthless woman but not like Sarah, she never had hate in her heart and that was evident when he saw her raise their child. A tear rolled down his cheek before he was able to wipe it away. Uther had never grieved and hardly accepted she was gone.<br/><br/>He took control of his emotions and murmured a prayer, the one he had heard her say over their son's crib. His faith had been long gone but those few words helped his tormented soul. This had to be done, he was sure of that. It was men like the Castle brothers who had ruined his own life. The cancer of hate was still strong within Uther. His fingers threaded bullets into the bandolier before he tore down his rifles, cleaned and made sure they were in working order. He wondered if Sarah would grow yellow at the last moment..