"Wouldn't have it any other way. There's too much life out there to waste away the years sittin' in some parlor doin' embroidery."

She ain't ashamed to carry her guns, but she does try to be considerate of other people's feelings. She don't use them unless she has to.

She goes a little cross-eyed looking at his little doodad, curious about what it's doing. Lucky for Leonard, it won't pick up on anything too strange. Kate's your run-of-the-mill twenty-something from 1888, no strange powers, no being brought back from the dead, no unusual anatomy. She has three incompletely healed bullet wounds: one in her left thigh; one below her ribs on the left, leaving a jagged edge along her waist; and one through her right bicep. They're old, probably by a few years. She probably shows up some nasty little bacteria from unfiltered drinking water and a few wormy meals taken out on the trail, but she's in good health given the time period. Her liver will give her away for hard drinking, but she won't have to worry about that catching up with her for another decade or two, if she lives that long.

"Should you be buyin' me dinner first?"