Elgin mopped at his brow. It took a lot for the tough cat to get scared, and right now he was looking at it - a lot of 'it' that is. In fact, the whole posse was looking at it, too - the highway. The heat of the day had risen, and had brought the murderous traffic along with it. Vehicle after vehicle, zipping by at outrageous speeds. Rango almost felt his stomach sink... almost.

After all, how could he call himself Sheriff if he had actually let it drop? Assuming the position at the head of the line of runners, Rango raised his voice to be heard over the din. "Alright, follow my lead! We'll wait fer a quiet spot and plod on from there!" No one seemed to want to tell the Sheriff that one did not simply 'plod' across the highway. Skitter was an alternative verb, so was sprint-like-the-Devil-was-at-yer-heels, but the townsfolk knew the Sheriff'd been one to cross this very stretch of road so they waited patiently by for his instructions.

Rango leaned forward in his saddle as he watched and waited.

And waited.

And waited. Elgin spat in the dust, impatiently. Spoons shifted in his saddle, shrugging his shoulders. Waffles blinked. Rango frowned.

"Well, uh..." the Sheriff faltered, raising his voice above the din. "This is certainly takin' longer'n I thought. If it doesn't let up soon, we'll have to brainstorm a diversion!"

"Diversion?" Spoons wheezed. "What sorta diversion?"

"Think he means fer one o' us to sacrifice hisself, fer th' good o' the company," Turley offered, in his hoarse whisper. "That what you meant, Sheriff?"

"Does he mean that?" Waffles piped, instantly alert. "Should we draw straws?"

"Shuttup!" Elgin barked. "Ain't nobody gonna do no sacrificin'!" He seriously doubted Rango - spontaneous and foolhardy as he was - would stoop to something that stupid.

"Gents!" Rango finally spoke up. He'd been keeping an eye - literally, one eye - on the traffic situation, and the other on his team. "I may have thought up an insightful solution to our predicament!" Both eyes snapped back to focus on the restless posse. "Firstly! I'll need a vounteer."

Elgin jerked upright in his saddle. "What?!"

"Much obliged fer yer volunteerin' Elgin." Rango continued, not seeming to notice the cat's flabbergasted reply. "Now then, what I'll need ya t'do is-"

"Ain't no way yer sendin' me down there! I ain't no sacrifice!" Elgin's paws clutched his reins - hard.

Rango paused, mouth still ajar. "Ahh," he stammered. "...Wasn't 'bout to, Elgin. What's this about a sacrifice?"

"T'only way we're gettin' thorugh, innit?" Turley insisted. "Some'un needs t'sacrifice hisself. Fer the good o'the-"

"Now hold on up, there!" Rango waved his arms. "In no manner, way or circumstance did I refer to anything of such nature! Now, if y'all don't mind, I'll get to the real intent o' my theory!"

The lean form of Chip was sprawled out on a table-side chair in the local saloon. He figured a few drinks would calm him down. A few escalated into several, which then turned into a headache, which was where he was at that moment - stranded by the wayside between drunken stupor and outright unconsciousness. However, his original purpose for the drinking had not been achieved. The harsh words of Alvarez still tumbled around in his skull like flapjacks out of the pan. He growled as he pushed the last glass farther down the table, sharp maroon eyes now listless and distracted.

A paw set down on the table beside the untouched glass. It was the brown rat. Tilting his head at hs intoxicated leader, the creature's whiskers twitched in confusion. "Ehh, I take it th' meetin' didn't go well?" The stench of alcohol made his lip curl in protest.

Chip grunted, trying to laugh. "Hell, an' no. Damn whas-'is-name... made Spanish..." Chip's head lolled against the back of the chair. "M'drunk,"

"No kiddin'." The rat surmised. "Ya look like hell warmed over an' then spit back out." He gingerly wrapped an forearm around his leader's shoulders, hoisting him to his feet. Chip was heavy, for all his wiry leanness. "I'll get ya back to th' room."

Chip's arm swung around wildly as he was made to walk. "Damn Sp-aniard!" He mumbled. "C-can't make us ss-tay!"

The rat paused. "Say what?"

"Want-ss us... stayin' put. Say-ss money's... el dinero no va a venir." When he was this far gone, Chip often flip-flopped between the two languages. Of this the rat had no idea why, mostly because Spanish had a lot more words to spew out, especially when one was- say what?!

"Wh-aat?" He sputtered, nearly dropping the ferret in surprise.

Chip groaned. "C-callars-sss." He hissed.

"Sorry," the rat mumbled. They were out on the stoop now, Chip protesting at the brightness of the midday sun. "What happened to the money, Boss?"

"Sus finanzas ... son una idiotez." Chip slurred, the effect of the drink finally taking its toll. The rat knew he had few precious minutes of semi-consciousness left before the ferret was deadweight on his back. He picked up his pace, heading for the hotel across the way.

"Finances...? Say what?" The rat bit back his protest. Chip's eyes were already rolled back into his skull. Dammit.

Later on, after much deliberation and arguing, the latter of which often returned to the subject of sacrifice, the posse had their plan in place and were awaiting further orders. Rango had steered his steed as close as he dared to the highway without frightening his bird. He kept an iron grip on his hat as the cars whooshed by, and kept a steel eye to the far left. Elgin had his runner at the ready, and a big bag at his side, perhaps more at the ready.

Rango waited for a gap that he knew had to be coming. There was always a short lull in traffic - really anywhere. And then he saw it. His raised his hand and the next stage of the plan went into action. Elgin whipped his bag as high into the air as it would go, lobbing itself into the a car's windshield.

"Go! Now!" Rango took off, with his posse following close behind. the resulting screech of tires and deafening honks of horns were as like to blow their ears out, but they didn't dare stop, much less slow down. Soon, Rango had a clear line of vision to his left as he continued down the stretch of road. A quick peek behind confirmed his hunch - a four-car blockage, minimal damages - and the chameleon swept his arm straight out. "Move!" The opposing traffic was lighter than the line coming, which was something this plan depended greatly on.

The posse made across the way, their runner feet pounding on the stretch of pavement. They were across the first line, coming to the yellow strips... past the yellow line, now... Rango's breath caught in his throat. Almost there...

"Sheriff!" Spoon's raspy voice cracked in fear. Apparently, the opposite line wasn't as clear. An SUV roared towards the group at hellish speeds.

Rango's heart drooped, but didn't drop. He wouldn't let it. They were almost there. They could make it.

"Keep going, keep going!" He called behind. Oh, they were so close! A foot at the most!

Keep going, keep going, keep going...

SCREEEE-EEECH!

I know, I know, I'm horrible for ending on such a cliffhanger...

Muahahaa...

R&R!