Jesse Logan was now beginning to remember what had transpired the previous night. He had been sitting in on a game of poker with a couple of local cowhands when four of these gunmen from Tanner's outfit swaggered through the batwing doors of the Boar's Head saloon. Two of these sauntered up to the table and had casually invited themselves in on the game. Unfortunately, the two other cowhands that were at the poker table were hands of Joe Bolton's Bar-O spread which was one that Morgan Tanner was currently trying to squeeze out. Two other members of that outfit were in the saloon as well, one of them being Joe Bolton's honest, albeit hot-headed son, Dan.

Jesse had known that there would likely be trouble, so, declining to play another hand, Logan had excused himself from the table. He figured to put the bar between his backside and the gunhands. After all, two of the gunmen were not going to be in the game, and that would place them somewhere behind Jesse should something start--if he were to remain at the table. It was best to be in a position where he could see all of his potential enemies. Also, it gave the impression that he was at the least, neutral, as far as the difficulties between the BAR-O and the MT were concerned.

Were he not Jesse Logan, the other gunmen would have taken such a move as evidence of either timidity, or common sense. But they knew his reputation well, and each, inwardly breathed a sigh of relief when Jesse left the table in a seemingly disinterested fashion. Nevertheless, remaining neutral, wasn't what Jesse had in mind at all.

Logan had no illusions about his own ability with a gun. Westerners used to speak of him saying that, "Were a fella to count on his fingers the gunfights Jesse had fought and won, he'd purty soon have to take his boots off and start a-countin' on his toes." Of the gunmen that had just entered the saloon, Logan knew none personally, but each by reputation.

Richard "Peaceful" Jones was the meanest of this bunch, and likely, the one who would start the trouble. Bart Jason, was quiet and sullen, but as deadly as a rattler, with a pistol. Between these two, there were twelve dead men, most from face to face gunfights. These were the two that decided to sit in on the game.The other two, had split up, and casually walked to either side of the room. Ostensibly they were merely being sociable, striking up conversations with some of the regulars. In truth Jesse had realized, they were sizing up the place for potential opposition.

Jesse knew that he should just stay out of it, and most folks wouldn't blame him a bit. His loyalties were to Moose Murdoch, and anyhow the odds were even, weren't they? Four on four, should trouble break out. But that was a lesser man's rationalization, not his own.

The BAR-O cowhands were exactly that, cowhands. And most cowhands couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with a pistol unless they had some time to take aim. Against the MT hands, they would would be fortunate if they were even afforded one second! Besides, the two BAR-O hands at the table were so nervous that they were both beginning to sweat profusely. This fact did not go unnoticed by Peaceful Jones.

"What's the matter with you fellas? Ya look like ya been eatin' too many frijole beans and just found the door ta the outhouse barred. Matter a fact, ya'll look like yer conscience is a-botherin' ya. Ain't that right, Bart? Couldn't be that ya'll were a-plannin' to cheat ole Bart and me now could it? Cause if'n ya wuz ta do that, I believe it would plumb hurt mine and Bart's feelin's fer shore!" Jones chided.

The BAR-O cowboys quickly assured them that this was not the case. Jones merely laughed and said, "Well, it had durn well better not be!" While slyly winking at Jason.

Since, for the moment, it didn't look as though anyone at the poker table was going to start shooting, Jesse turned his attention away from the game for the moment and searched for the other two MT gunmen, whose names were Chico Portalis and Bucktooth Wilson. Wilson was new to the gunfight scenario and if he had ever been in a real gunfight, no one knew for certain. Nevertheless, he often demonstrated his ability with a pistol wherever he went to anyone who would watch, and he was indeed, very fast.

Portalis had killed six men below the border, and two in El Paso (at the same time). Jesse quickly spotted them both, but unfortunately, they were on either side of him. That could make it difficult for him since they might attempt to catch him in a cross-fire. However, at this point, they had no reason to assume that Jesse would join in on the side of the BAR-O cowhands. Jesse knew otherwise though.

He hated unfairness in a fight, and this would be to the MT gunhands, a turkey-shoot, nothing more. Jesse suspected that Tanner was already stealing small amounts of cattle from Murdoch's range anyhow, and that was the reason he was in town in the first place. He was to investigate this as discretely as possible, and report his findings to Moose first hand. If an open battle with Tanner were approaching, one had to have the facts to back up his actions, unless he wished to run afoul of the law as well. At least, that was Murdoch's present position. It would remain that way as long as Tanner didn't gain control of the law also. One thing Jesse had discovered though was that the local law was beginning to look as if it were indeed now on Tanner's payroll, or the town counsel at least certainly was.

His thoughts were brought back to the situation the night before. Dan Bolton was already moving towards Chico Portalis and muttering something that Jesse couldn't make out. The bartender, Bill Wyler, who was a friend of Jesse's, seemed to be aware of how the situation was shaping up. Conchita Mireles had also noticed and moved to intercept Dan. "What a girl" Jesse thought. "She may have her faults, but she sure had sense, and a heart to boot." Dan's father, Joe Bolton, had no love for Conchita or any of her type, and had openly said as much on many occasions. Still, Conchita had enough compassion in her harlot's heart to try to prevent the slaughter of the man's son, who had the guts, but not the ability, to brace such a dangerous gunman as Chico Portalis.

Jesse had to do something soon. The fourth BAR-O cowhand was already making his way to the poker table where his two partners were being harassed. He had a nervous, but determined look on his face. Bucktooth Wilson glanced at Jesse who appeared to be completely disinterested, then hurriedly looked away. After seeming to satisfy himself that Logan was preoccupied, Wilson then began moving to intercept the fourth BAR-O cowboy. Jesse had assumed that Wilson was probably thinking to himself, "Chico is about to take care of young Dan Bolton, and Jones and Jason will likely polish off the other three cowboys. That leaves me out of the action completely. If I get there soon enough, I may be able to shoot the other one."

Wilson was hoping not to be left out of the action, not because of his courage, but because his reputation probably needed feeding rather badly these days. Nobody knew of the men he had supposedly killed in gunfights, and some of the other gunmen were quick to point this out.

Nevertheless, Logan supposed that Wilson's move indicated that the MT hands did not yet consider him a potential threat to their plans at the moment. Otherwise, he would not have relinquished such a strategic position (or so Jesse reasoned at the time). They all knew Logan's reputation, but must have decided he would not fight for anyone besides Murdoch, at least, not against such odds, unless getting well paid for it. They would naturally assume that all other gunmen would feel about the matter as they did. Nevertheless, it removed the possibility that Portalis and Wilson could catch him in a cross-fire.

Jesse decided then that he himself, was going to have to open this ball, or the BAR-O cowhands would soon be dead. He realized however, that despite his own prowess with a pistol, he probably could not manage to take on the four expert gunmen alone. But, if one of them were called out personally, on some pretense, that would divert their attention from the BAR-O cowhands, for the time being at least. Maybe the BAR-O cowboys would have enough sense to "get the hell out of there" while the MT gunmen were wondering what to do about one of their faster pistoleros departing for the great hereafter.

One of the men Chico Portalis had killed in Mexico, had been the son of a cowhand who, though long dead, had been Jesse's father's friend. That, Jesse figured, would be enough of an excuse to call the Mexican pistolero outside.

Sitting up in bed in Conchita's room, Logan remembered bracing himself against the far end of the bar and preparing to do just that when, while he was glowering at Chico, gunfire sounded from the direction of the poker game. At this point, Jesse could remember no more.

"Damn!" he silently cursed to himself. He said aloud, "I guess I'm going to have to get my ass up and go find out just what DID happen!"

He noticed that Conchita, or someone, had left a washbasin on the dresser top. That was just as well because he wanted to shave and be as fresh as possible for his breakfast, since Charlene Lancer would probably be serving it up. Pulling the bedclothes off in one fluid motion Jesse noticed somewhat ashamedly, that he was stark naked. He sort of hoped it hadn't been Conchita who had undressed him. "Well, he mused, It ain't like she'd be overly bashful about such things judging from her particular line of work."

He got up and approached the mirror gazing at himself to see if there were any other telltale marks of abuse on his person besides the knot on his head. What he saw was a young man of about twenty years who was about five foot ten, and quite muscular, yet in a sleek, feline way rather than being bulky. There wasn't an ounce of fat on Jesse Logan's frame that one could detect, due to years of hard western, outdoor working. His eyes were a deep blue that appeared to turn toward gray when he was angered. It was said amongst those who knew him, that one of the most perilous things in life was to be the recipient of that gaze when those eyes started turning icy gray. He had a look of intensity that belied his years, and that look had turned many a man's blood to ice in the past. However, it was also a handsome face with a certain boyish charm about it that made the young girls hearts flutter. It was also a face that laughed easily and often, during less troublesome times. His hair was medium length and slightly wavy, brown in color with gold tints when the sun hit it just right. Logan washed up, and prepared to get some breakfast-- and some answers. His clothing he noticed, had been neatly laid out beside the washbasin. Upon closer examination he realized they had been washed also. His gun and gunbelt were lying on top of the clothing. However, his hat, was missing.

"Hmm, Jesse muttered aloud, more questions ever' time I turn around. Time to get me some answers!"

Ordinarily, Jesse would be looking forward to breakfast, if only to see Charlene Lancer. Most people affectionately called her "Charley" because of the fact that most of the time, she dressed and acted more like a rowdy young boy than the beautiful female that she was. Unfortunately, this morning was likely to bring him unpleasant news about last night's activities rather than playful flirting with the filly he had some time back, decided to rope for his own. "And someone is going to pay dearly for that knot on my head!" he thought to himself.

Just as he was thinking this, there was a knock on the door. Jesse, quickly slid into his trousers, grabbed his gun and said, "Come in, but come in mighty easy-like."

In stepped Bill Wyler, and right behind him, Conchita Mireles. Logan grinned at them and said, "Mornin' Bill, Conchita. Sorry about borrowin' yer bed Conchita, but seems that Bill served me up some bad whiskey, and I reckon I just got drunk and found myself here. Unless of course, one of you two has a better excuse as to why I've all of a sudden taken up sleepin' in beautiful women's beds. We didn't get married or somethig last night did we Connie?" Before either could respond, Jesse continued.

"Hell, come to think of it, the way it looks to me, Connie musta gotten me drunk and sweet-talked me into marryin' her. After bringin' me home, I figure I musta said somthin' she didn't like, and she hauled off and whacked me over the head, then left me here to die. Now if that's the case, I reckon I can forgive the both of ya. If not, I better hear some explaining mighty quick!"

Feigning indignation Conchita said, "Well jus maybe eef joo chut up we tell joo! I woold nefer marry a diablo like joo, Jesse Logan. And maybe we chould have lef joo to die. Mabey eet be better for both of us eef my brother leef joo een the saloon on the floor. At lees that way joo no come to stink up my bed like thees. Besides, what weell the peoples think eef they find that I haf a man to sleep een my bed all night? Mebbe they no eenvite poor Conchita to the shurch socials no more."

This brought a hearty laugh from both Logan and Wyler who were well aware of Conchita's ongoing battles with Reverend Phelps and the more respectable elements of the community who were eager to run her and her kind out of town. "Don't worry Conchita." Logan said. "We'll see to it that your precious reputation don't take a beating over this."

"How's yer head Jess." Wyler inquired.

"Sore, but I'll live." Logan replied. At that, Wyler began to relate what had transpired the previous night.

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