After fumbling with the key for a considerable amount of time, Archie got the door open and rushed into the workshop, running up a narrow fight of steps to an overhang that he called his room. Rummaging through his drawers he found the object of his desire, a revolver, gun metal grey with a redwood grip, he picked it up in his first week in sandy flats. 

Archie stuffed it into his coat and deposited a fistful of loose rounds into his pocket, the panic and excitement was getting to him as he rushed down the stairs, slamming the door shut and neglecting to lock it. In the end it didn't matter, once he got that cash he could buy back what ever he might find stolen when he returned. Either way, he doubt anyone would steal from a man who makes their coffins, else he'll put a "curse" on them. Archie snickered at the thought.

He burst back into the saloon and went straight to Rose, leaning over the counter Archie brought his mouth to her ear and whispered, "Madam Rose, I need to talk to you outside."