Archie was still standing before the other guy made a run for it, Shelly didn't give much attention to the escapade igniter, his eyes furiously set to kill Archie for shooting up his (actually Archie's) money. But that soon changed when Rose jumped up over the bar and yelled sweet melodies to Shelly's ears, a language he was most fluent in, REWARDS. He had stolen less than whatever rose claimed she would reward, so it was only logical for Shelly to ignore the Death Undertaker and run after the escapade man of the hour. Rat the thousand dollar man.

Shelly holstered his guns as he sped behind Rat, demon eyes, demon speed. He could hear the cries and whimpers of the Saloon's patrons, whores crying. [i]Whores.[/i] MARLETT! "When the fuck am I going to get some ass tonight? Fuck the drink, I'm killing this sad fella, getting the money, bedding the fuck out of Marlett's brains and have a goddamned sleep!" he yelled in rage, "That's the plan. [i]Heeyaaa![/i]"

He crashed through the swinging doors, breaking them and flipped over his face and into the dry sand. Rough sand. He jumped to his feet, no time to clear the dust. His twitchy fingers grabbing his pistols from the gunbelt and quickly firing rounds above Rat's head, warning shots. "Not anotha footstep ye eager fella, I need that thousand dollars, final words?" Shelly waved with one hand, pistol still in it, "no hard feelings fella, I really need that money to bed and sleep." 

He had the money to bed Marlett, and perhaps three other whores, what was this about? Adrenaline? Misplaced rage?