Raylan couldn't be sure how long he was unconscious - time has no meaning at such times - but he opened his eyes, instantly aware that the vehicle'd ceased to move, and unaware of the reason for it having done so. His head felt thick, as if he'd been drugged, but he knew that wasn't possible. He felt his forehead cautiously - no palpable signs of bruising. He turned to look at his prisoner - only to discover that Buck was gone.
"Shit!" Raylan swore, banging his palm against the dashboard, before he became aware that he wasn't alone. "So help me, Redford, if you don't get back in this car, I'll break your neck," he started, his usually lazy Kentucky drawl tighter than a bagful of hissing cats.
"Mind stepping back so I can get out?" he said, managing to slide out of the car around the stranger. Raylan attained his feet, shaking his head to clear it, yet he remained aware of his surroundings at all times. And one of the first things he noticed was the rather old fashioned attire of the other man. As well as his rifle.
"Excuse me, but did you happen to notice a guy about yea high? Dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit?" He held his hand up somewhere below his own high. How that son of a jackalope had gotten out of his cuffs, Rayland didn't know, but he did know he was going to get him back in custody and take him to Austin as soon as he got his hands on the scrawny little Cracker.