In the hills south-west of Sunnyside, no less than a dozen pairs of eyes were buried neatly into the shrubs, trained with eagerness on a collection of unhappy men in chains. The group being watched was dressed in scavenged old orange jumpsuits, and were equipped with nothing but half-broken shovels that they could just barely manage to use in their bondage. Standing beside the handful of penal workers, only a few feet away, was a middle-aged man, well built and tall, carrying a rifle. The lonely guard watched over his prisoners with half of a lazy eye, the rest of his attention focused up at the sky, staring off into the sun, or maybe some shape he thought he saw in the clouds. He was caught entirely off guard when he heard a call from behind him.

"Drop the gun and kneel on the ground, hands behind your head!" the voice calmly, but firmly, demanded. It wasn't just the guard that was caught unaware—his workers, too, had managed not to notice the group of a dozen Martin Rangers encircling them, slowly closing in on their position until it was impossible for them to miss, if they had to shoot at all. When the guard dropped to his knees in compliance, the prisoners gave a smug cheer, but then tossed their shovels and knelt down just like him. Anthony E. Martin smirked, and gave a second command, this one to the portion of his Martin Rangers' Frontier Company that was in attendance. "Grab his rifle and put him in chains with the rest. He won't be getting a shovel." 

The old general stepped forwards a few feet, his officer's uniform immaculate, thanks to the lack of real action his men had been facing in these hills. He set his hand on the Commonwealth law man's shoulder, and said in a reassuring tone, "Sunnyside belongs to the Yakima Republic now, friend. That means her prisoners do as well. We'll do right by them. Of course, 'them' now means you, too." A Ranger then picked up the guard's rifle, and used it as a stick to push the guard forward on his knees, with the rest of the prisoners. His leg was connected to the chain gang, and he and his old detainees begrudgingly got back to work, the law man digging with his bare hands in lieu of a shovel. Two of the twelve Martin Rangers stayed behind, keeping a diligent eye on the chain gang, whilst Anthony and the nine others pressed on further south-east. Night was falling, and Anthony wanted his men to own the hills by the time shooting started. With the whole rest of the Frontier Company skulking the hills, Anthony doubted it'd be long, now. Once he reached the end of the hills, he and the free members of the Frontier Company would meet up with Contact Company, who'd followed the hill's edge from the south. By the time they regrouped, the fighting would be on well and good further north, and the time would be optimal for the Martin Rangers to establish their observation post just to the south of Sunnyside's limits, hopefully unopposed.