The sun was warm and bright on the streets of Olsen's Falls that day. There were few people moving about that morning, and only a few seemed to even notice Jesse. Those that did, merely nodded or averted their eyes, but none spoke to him or asked him about the night before. That was fine with him since he wished to go straight to the Boar's Head without having to give lengthy explanations to anyone who asked.

He paused momentarily on the boardwalk to adjust his holsters, and tied down the leather thongs around each leg. This was so the pistols would glide smoothly out of the holster without snagging should he need to snatch them out in a hurry. Many greenhorns had been killed because their pistol snagged in their holster when they were trying to get it out quickly. It was also a good way to get shot in the leg or foot. Satisfied that his holsters were snug and tight against his thighs, Jesse strode into the Boar's Head.

Though not yet noon, there were a number of people present. The professional gamblers were already at their usual tables waiting for anyone foolish enough to try their luck against them. Conchita Mireles was nowhere in sight, nor was Bill Wyler. No doubt, both were trying to catch up on their sleep. Jim Ketchum was handling the bar-tending duties for Bill, and Jesse strode over to the bar and ordered a beer.

"Mornin', Jim." Jesse said casually. "Happen to see Wilson around?"

"Ketchum nervously replied, "Yeah, you just missed him. Fact is, he just left a few moments ago. He was in here earlier throwin' his weight around when Sheriff Orr came in. Orr spoke to him kind of quiet like, and afterwards, Wilson left the saloon. By the way Logan, what happened to you last night? Everybody's wondering."

"I'll tell you 'bout it later, Jim. Right now I've got some business to attend to."

Jesse thanked him for the information, finished his beer, and exited the saloon. He figured the sheriff had probably warned Bucktooth to stay out of sight, or maybe even leave town. On the street, Jesse looked around carefully and as luck would have it, there was Wilson heading for the stables, no doubt, to collect his mount and ride out of town. Logan headed straight toward him.

"Where you goin', Wilson?" Jesse asked in a loud voice. Wilson stopped, and turned toward Jesse nervously.

"I don't know that it's any of your damn business." Wilson fired back.

"Well, I hate to be botherin' such a dangerous gunfighter on this fine mornin' Bucktooth, but I got a few questions I got to ask ya." Logan said casually.

"Like what?" Wilson asked, eyeing him cautiously.

"Like I was kindof wonderin' if you would give me the name of the fellow that tried to punch my ticket last night in the Boar's Head, for starters." Jesse drawled casually.

"Hell, Logan, I don't know what yer talkin' about. If you hadn't run away like you had, ya might have noticed that I was too busy with them uppity BAR-O cowhands to be payin' you any mind." Wilson replied mockingly.

"Yeah, too busy tryin' to find a way to put that first notch in your pistol huh Wilson?" Jesse said sarcastically.

He walked up to where he was standing directly in front of Wilson and asked, "How'd it feel? I mean gunning down a man that you knew didn't have a chance?"

"He had a chance, Wilson stammered, and he went for his gun first. It was a fair fight, and everyone saw it."

By now, a small crowd of townspeople were gathering around either watching with anticipation or whispering to one another. The word had somehow reached Charlene, and she had excused herself and was also watching the exchange.

Suddenly, without warning, Jesse's fist shot up and caught Wilson flush across the face, knocking him off balance and onto the ground. Before Wilson could recover himself, Jesse kicked him squarely in the stomach knocking the wind out of him. As Wilson was attempting to stagger to his feet, Jesse said, "You beaver-faced little runt. You ain't fit to lick horse shit off of Dan Bolton's boots. I'm also pretty damn certain you know who shot at me last night. You'd better tell me now, and I might just leave it at this. Was Tanner behind it?"

"Go ta Hell," Wilson gasped back at Logan while reaching for his gun. Jesse reached out and caught Wilson's hand, and with his other, then casually removed Wilson's gun and tossed it out into the street. Then, as Wilson managed to regain his feet, Logan slammed his left and right fists into his midsection in rapid succession. Wilson doubled over in agony and as he was falling down, Logan caught him by the shirt collar and belt and flung him sideways. Wilson landed face first into a fresh pile of horse droppings.

Before he was able to extricate himself from it, Logan ground down on the back of his head with his boot, forcing the gunman's face deeper into the mound. "Damn, Wilson, if I'd known you were that hungry, I'd a bought you a meal. It just ain't polite to go diving into yer lunch in the middle of the street."

That remark caused many in the crowd to snicker, and many were forcibly repressing all out laughter. None of them liked Wilson, and some, had been friends of Bolton's. Wilson again staggered to his feet and took a half hearted swing at Logan. Logan easily sidestepped it and said, "Now look at you. You've done gone and got your lunch all over yer face. And in front of all these polite folks to boot! Didn't yer mama ever teach you any manners?"

By now, the crowd was laughing openly at the plight of the would be "dangerous" gunfighter.

Wilson swore, "I'll kill you fer this Logan, you son of a bitch, I swear it, I'm gonna kill you!"

"Hold on now, Logan began, it ain't proper to go into a gunfight with yer food smeared all over yer shirt and face. I think you'd best get cleaned up first. You sure as hell don't want to go and give us gunfighters a bad name now do you?"

Then Logan swiftly kicked Wilson's feet out from under him sending him sprawling backwards and landing on his backside, once again, into the horse manure. Logan then grabbed him by the belt and the front of his shirt and picking him up bodily, threw him into the nearest horse trough, and held him under for a few seconds. Wilson struggled desperately, and then Logan brought his head up out of the water. As Wilson was gasping for breath, Logan ripped off the gunman's bandanna and began wiping off his face. Wilson tried to fight him, so Logan held him by the shirt collar with his left hand, and slapped him several times across the face with his right. Logan let go of the gunman's shirt, and Wilson slumped down into the trough only half sensible.

As Wilson came up for air, "Logan said, "Okay, Mr. gunfighter. You just finish your bath there, and I'm gonna walk over to the other side of the street have a chew, and wait. There's your gun laying over there in the street. You pull yourself together, and get it, and I'll give you the chance to kill me, fair and square, just like you did Dan Bolton."

With that, Logan turned and walked to the other side of the street and waited for Wilson to get ready. The crowd, no longer laughing, watched silently as the gunman tried to collect his wits--and his nerve.

Wilson was scared. He had several times contemplated calling Logan out. It would enhance his reputation enormously to be able to gun down Logan, who was considered one of the area's fastest. It would make him recognized as one of the best, in one fell swoop--without having to accumulate several victories, many of which would be questioned anyway. He had complete confidence in his ability with a gun. But in his fantasies of calling out Logan, it had never gone like this. He had been thoroughly humiliated in front of a good portion of the town. There was no backing down now.

If he didn't kill Logan, he was as good as dead anyway. He would never be able to show his face anywhere in the west without this incident being brought up. The only way to redeem even a part of his reputation was to gun down Logan face to face. Slowly but surely, his fear began to give way to anger and hatred. Hatred of the handsome and confident gunfighter across the street, who even now, was flirting with that beautiful, young, blonde-haired, blue-eyed spitfire, Charlene Lancer, and not paying him the slightest bit of attention.

Wilson started toward his gun. The crowd backed away, and Charlene moved away from Logan's side. Wilson watched her thinking, "The gawddamned bitch. She's smiling. She won't be when I plug her boyfriend, and what I'm going to do to her later...."

His lustful fantasy was broken as Jesse casually pulled his own pistol and leveled it on Wilson. "You just pick yer gun up nice and slowly, and slide it into your holster, then I'll holster mine, and you can go to work."

Wilson holstered his gun, and Logan did the same, and casually hooked his thumbs onto his gunbelt, waiting for Wilson to make his play. Someone in the crowd hollered that the sheriff was coming. At that, Logan shifted his gaze slightly, and Wilson made his move. His gun was just coming up out of its holster as his left eyeball disappeared and the back of his head exploded, due to a slug from Logan's Colt Army 44.

The crowd parted as Sheriff Orr came through. "What the Hell's goin' on here anyway?" he asked no one in particular.

"Not much Sheriff. Jesse Logan just rid the town of a skunk is all." Charlene Lancer said nonchalantly. Orr strode over to the body of the late Bucktooth Wilson and looked it over.

"Someone get the undertaker. Logan, you're under arrest." he said.

The crowd immediately began to protest and Jesse simply leaned back against the hitching rail and waited. After a few minutes, Sheriff Orr finally concluded that it had been a fair fight. Charlene pointed out somewhat vociferously that were Sheriff Orr to arrest Logan for precipitating this fight, he should have also arrested Wilson and the other MT gunmen the night before for doing the same thing. And after all, Wilson had had the opportunity to walk away. He didn't HAVE to draw on Logan. It was his choice. The Sheriff was in no position to argue the point, and secretly, breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't been sure if Logan would have elected to go peaceably to jail. Orr knew that he was no match for Logan with a gun, but had hoped, that Logan would have had enough respect for the law to allow himself to be arrested and stand trial. Fortunately, he would not have to find that out at this point.

The undertaker arrived, and the crowd began to disperse. Sheriff Orr walked up to Logan and said, "I'd appreciate it if you'd leave town. There's been enough trouble lately, and I don't want any more. I can't hold you on this one, but any more, and I'll have your ass in jail, if I have to get up a posse to do it!"

Jesse spat tobacco juice into the dust and asked sarcastically, "What posse would that be, Sheriff? Morgan Tanner's gunmen? I try to abide by the law, but not when it is bought and paid for."

Orr glared back at him and said, "Mister, ain't nobody bought and paid for my ass. You go up against me, and you're going against the duly appointed law in this territory. You keep that in mind!"

"You recite that same speech to Morgan Tanner and his crowd, and I just might keep it in mind, Sheriff. But until I hear you do it, I'll also keep in mind the possibility that you just might be convinced to work for Tanner. That my friend, would make you fair game." Logan replied ominously.

With that, Jesse turned and put his arm around Charlene's waist and they walked away. "You sure lit a fire under the sheriff's butt, Jesse. He ain't likely to forgive you anytime soon neither." Charlene noted, grinning from ear to ear.

"Well," Jesse said, "I know he's gonna be hot at me for a while, but I got a feelin' that he really hasn't been bought off by Tanner yet. But the mayor has, and most of the town council. Since that's the case, maybe this will help him make up his mind. The sooner I know where he stands, the better I'll like it. In the past, He's been a fairly straight shooter, but he's getting older now. He's got to decide right away whether he will uphold the law, or Tanner. I'm hoping his conscience will help him choose the law. If not then, he'd better figure the consequences. I'm pretty sure he's been wrestling with the idea the past few weeks. He's never been known to be crooked before--as a lawman anyway, but then, he is getting older, and since being a law dog is all he knows, he doesn't really have much security in his future. He's probably been thinking that if he sides with Tanner, and Tanner wins out in the end, he'll be taken care of even after he's too old to do anything anymore. I wanted him to know that that particular notion wasn't as cozy as he might have been figurin', and it damn sure won't be, if he takes up with Tanner. By the way Charley, how much longer will you be helping out Ma?"

"I don't know. She's strong enough ta handle things herself now, but she's been trying ta keep me here. I'm already sick of it, and ready ta go back to the ranch. But I think I'd better wait until my brother arrives. If I know him, he'd ride right out there ta see me even with the Mason brothers there. He was always reckless, and I'd rather meet him here, than there." Pulling away from him she said, "Well, I gotta get back to Ma's."

"Well, since you ain't gonna spend any time with me, I think I'll wander over to the Boar's Head and give Conchita some business." He said with a wicked grin.

"You do that boy, and I'll geld ya sure as hell." She replied in mock anger. She knew he was simply trying to get a rise out of her.

He kissed her goodbye, and watched her graceful figure as she walked away. "Lord almighty," he thought to himself. To him, that was the picture of womanhood. She had the most beautiful face he'd ever seen, and a perfect figure which was only enhanced when she was wearing men's clothing. He sure hoped he didn't get killed in all of this because he planned to ask her to marry him soon.

Forcing such thoughts from his head, he turned and headed over to the saloon, in order to try and gather information and to set the story straight as to his departure the previous night. He didn't want Wyler to be implicated in his escape. Had Wyler not hauled him off of the floor and out the back door, someone would have noticed him there, and no doubt, finding him alive, would have called for a doctor. That doctor might have been on Tanner's payroll, and worse things could have happened from there. Jesse knew he owed Bill a lot for his shrewd and prompt assessment of the situation and for acting on it--at no small risk to himself. After that, he planned to wait until Joe Bolton arrived in town. He intended to make sure that what happened to Joe's son, did not happen to the elder Bolton. Were that to occur, Morgan Tanner would be able to take possession of the BAR-O almost immediately.

Joe Bolton had recently mortgaged his spread due to severe losses suffered from cattle rustling. Morgan Tanner had controlling interest at the bank. Joe Bolton's untimely demise, would be to Tanner's immediate advantage. Logan knew though, that if the old man were not broken by the tragic loss of his son, that it would only be a matter of time before he would lose the ranch anyway.

The rustling would continue, and no doubt, increase in both frequency and intensity until it became impossible for Bolton to meet his debts, if it wasn't already. The bank would then foreclose, and that, would be the end. The ranch would become part of Tanner's spread. Logan might not be able to prevent that from happening, but perhaps, he could prevent the elder Bolton's death. Not that Tanner's men would gun him down in cold blood, but if by chance, they were in town, and Joe Bolton lost his head and decided to avenge his son, it would all be over quickly. Logan did not know Bolton's character well enough to predict what he would do. For now, he would have to wait.

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