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No one gave more than the standard curious glance at the trio of riders making their leisurely way down the main street of the outer district before going on with their day. Visitors were common here, no matter the time and day. The residents of this town had better things to do, like work for a living and be able to pay the ridiculous amounts of tax when Dawson's men came knocking. As long as trouble did erupt, there was nothing to see. 

Up on his mount, Taheton scanned the area slowly, taking in the terrain and potential threats amongst the flow of bodies. He has only been into this city once and hadn't stayed for long. Unfamiliar territory made his skin itch, so he rectified it by familiarising himself as much as he could as the small group headed towards their destination. Since there is a certainty they would need to fight their way out of here sometime today, he would need to know things like potential hiding spots and the shortest path to where they will be tethering the horses.

A quiet sigh escaped his lips as he dismounted.

This wasn't his style of operation. Walking into enemy territory, stirring up trouble and loudly proclaiming one's intentions in broad daylight wasn't exactly the best way to ensure you would live to fight another day. Taheton had always been the cautious sort, to take advantage of the night, scout for opportunities and strike when their guards are down. It was common sense when hunting foes that outnumber or outgun you, after all. Notoriety served as a double-edged sword, and he would rather not have his face plastered on the streets and walls of various establishments. And knowing Dawson's influence, these posters wouldn't remain solely in this town for long. A small part of him cringed at the thought of his Tribe's chief getting his wrinkled hands on a poster in the near future.

Walking pass Leo to snag the vacant table in the back corner of the saloon, Taheton gave a polite but curt nod to whoever met his eyes. [i]This is such a bad idea. How was I convinced to go along with this hare-brained scheme again?[/i] A light feminine giggle drifted towards his ears as he sat down without ordering a drink, causing him to glance up. [i]Inyan take that silver tongue.[/i] Now he remembered exactly why he is here now, going along with this crazy plan. "The Coyote" was an apt title for such a man. He had persuasion skills on par with the Trickster God who shared that name. 

About an hour or so passed before their two targets sauntered through the doors of the saloon. Tension bled into the atmosphere of the establishment, growing thicker by the second as Dawson's minions slapped a woman. It was only when Leo stood up, drawing attention to himself did Taheton shift slightly as well. The stifling air stilled at the interference before ebbing so slightly. His fingers brushed the handle of a tomahawk, hidden beneath his coat. Silently getting to his feet as the confrontation unfolded, he slid one tomahawk out, head pointed towards the floor even as Leo's revolver was levelled in the direction of the two lackeys. 

Shadowing his party leader's steps, Taheton positioned himself to the right, where a single swing of his arm would bring the hatchet thudding into the one named Leonard Freemont should the situation call for it. Just as well he didn't go for his rifle in the saloon, as he was easily dismissed as the lesser threat compared to Leo in the eyes of these two men. Exactly the way he liked it. 

A twitch ran through him as more men on horseback surrounded their group of three. In between cursing under his breath, he spared a second to glare balefully at the young silver-tongue. However, nothing more could be exchanged as the first shot was fired and Bradley Grant toppled, a bloody hole in his chest. One moment of shocked silence fell. Then chaos ensued. 

The thundering of hooves alerted him to more incoming trouble just as he released the tomahawk in his hand towards the self-proclaimed priest. He didn't stop to see his weapon burying itself into flesh, instead, diving away in the nick of time as an unknown rider and their horse collided with the circle of Dawson's men. Taking advantage of the stunned hush, he stood from his crouch and surveyed his surroundings. Roxanne and Leo would be fine, they could handle themselves in a firefight. On the other hand...

The rider who fell from his horse during the collision groaned, but a swift kick to his face knocked him unconscious. The crunch beneath his feet as the lackey's nose broke was satisfying enough to ease his irritation of being dragged into a group fight in broad daylight. Both horses were back on their feet, effectively blocking Taheton from view as he made his way towards the woman. As far as he could see, she wasn't visibly wounded. 

A couple of gunshots forced him to duck behind a stack of wooden crates, putting the female possible-civilian - definitely someone in the wrong place at the wrong time - half out of his sight. 

[color=ed1c24]"Miss, I would suggest hauling ass out of here on that horse of yours."[/color] He called flatly even as he unshouldered his rifle and took aim around the corner of the crates. He pulled the trigger before ducked back to load another round.