Back in Olsen's Falls, at the edge of the alleyway, Richard "Peaceful" Jones and Bart Jason awaited the approach of Billy Fogg. Roberto Mireles had already passed by but had failed to notice the two gunmen hiding in the shadows. Finally, Jones heard the sound of spur laden boots approaching. He didn't dare peek around the corner to see if it was Fogg for fear of being noticed himself. He simply eased his pistol out of the holster and waited, planning to clout whoever it was.

Billy Fogg was approaching the Boar's Head in eager anticipation of the erotic pleasures that awaited him there in the voluptuous form of one Conchita Mireles. He had to hurry since his Father, had given him only two hours. Captain Fogg had decided to leave town and head toward the herd that night rather than wait until the morning.

As he stepped off of the boardwalk onto the hard packed dirt of the alleyway, something slammed into the back of his head and he saw stars as he plummeted to the ground. Then everything went black as he slipped out of consciousness.

When Billy came too, he discovered that his hands were bound behind his back. His mouth had what seemed like a bandanna stuffed in it and another wrapped tightly around his mouth and tied at the back of his head along with another still, covering his eyes. Nevertheless, he could still make out the gunmen's boots through the bottom of the bandanna. Two men were just finishing binding his feet and laughing quietly. He struggled and one of the men said, "Looks like the pup's comin' awake."

"Yeah, I reckon he is at that. I hear he's suppose ta be mighty quick on the draw. I reckon I'd best make the world a safer place." Jones said and he got up and walked around the back of Fogg who was lying on his right side. He then found Billy's right hand which lay palm open against the ground and stomped down hard with the heel of his boot, grinding downward. Fogg squirmed in agony but uttered not a sound. Both men felt the bones in the hand break although Fogg, naturally felt it to a much greater degree.

"There! That ought ta teach the little pup ta go around gunnin' down innocent folk." Jones said cheerfully.

"Hurry up pard, I gotta piss somthin' fierce!" Jason said urgently.

"Hell, now that ya mention it, so do I!" Jones said as he cheerfully unbuttoned his fly and removing his member, began urinating on the hapless young gunman. Bart Jason burst out in laughter despite himself and quickly mimicked his friend's actions. As the warm fetid liquid splattered all over his back, face and chest, Billy Fogg swore vengeance a thousand times over. He carefully noted the boots they were wearing. One, had badly scuffed brown boots with a tear between the sole and upper portion while the other wore shiny, almost new, black stove-pipe boots with the jeans tucked in.

"That ought ta teach the little horse-turd ta mess with our favorite whore." Jason said, still laughing intermittently.

Finally, the two men left and Fogg noted that they headed back to the Boar's Head. Fogg could hear them laughing and joking as they walked away. "Hell Jones, I swear, if you don't beat all I ever saw."

"Shoot, Bart, the pup's jest durn lucky I didn't have ta take me a crap!" Jones replied and they both broke out into laughter once again.

Although his hand was in agony, Billy Fogg began working feverishly to escape. Fortunately, neither man was any good at tying the ropes, which were new and stiff. Billy had soon freed his hands, and then his feet. He had a fairly good idea as to the identity of the men who had waylaid him. Only two of Tanner's men had been wearing stove-pipe boots with their jeans tucked into the tops. One was Jack Duane, and the other was called Peaceful Jones. But Jack Duane had been wearing brown boots, unlike Jones whose boots had been black and appeared almost new.

Fogg also noted that neither had much in the way of brains or they would have noticed that he was left-handed. Fogg smiled grimly. They would soon pay for that oversight he vowed, and pay dearly. He had been humiliated and had no intention of worsening that humiliation by going to his father or Dain and telling them what had transpired. At least, not until he had evened the score.

He hurried over to the hotel where he had been planning to stay the night. He went up to his room and opened his bedroll where he carried an extra set of clothing. He then went down and ordered a bathtub filled with warm water. After bathing hurriedly but thoroughly, young Fogg ordered another tub filled and bathed one more time, wishing to rid his body of any trace of the loathsome liquid.

Afterwards, throwing the soiled clothing away, Fogg went back to his room where he dug out of his saddle bags another pistol, a 44 Remmington, loaded it carefully and tucked it into his gunbelt at the waist. Normally, he only carried the lightweight Colt Navy thirty-six caliber in a holster on his left hip. Tonight though, he decided he might need more firepower so he brought the Remmington as well. He also pulled out a long bladed Bowie knife that Nighthawk had given him which was similar to the one the halfbreed had used to decapitate the Tanner gunman, Charles Shade. After that, he carefully wrapped his right hand tightly, forcing himself to choke back the intense pain. He would need that hand he reasoned. Up against only one opponent, he would likely be able to do without it. But in order to fire the single action pistol rapidly more than once, he would have to use his right hand to fan the hammer while his left hand held the trigger down and steadied the pistol.

In his saddle bag, he had an old Colt Dragoon 44 which he rarely used because of its weight. It was however, unloaded, so he practiced the maneuver a couple of times dry fanning it with his bound hand. It hurt like the devil, but he satisfied himself that he could manage it just as effectively as he could have were his hand unhampered by injury. Fortunately, he had bought himself a new hat earlier that day and had planned to wear it later that night, but had merely forgotten to do so. That was good because he figured to have to leave town in a hurry after he accomplished what he set out to do--and he'd thrown the old urine soaked hat away with the rest of his clothing. He wouldn't have had time to get another, and working cattle without a hat in the hot sun all day, could get mighty hard on a man in no time at all.

Satisfied that he was ready, Billy Fogg set out for the Boar's Head, and for revenge. In the foyer, Billy waved over the hotel bellhop and gave him fifty cents to deliver a message to his father which in essence was to quickly gather their belongings and get their horses, and to meet him in front of the Boar's Head saloon. He himself, went over to the livery stable and first retrieved his own horse, then walked it over toward the Boar's Head.

Inside the Boar's Head, Conchita Mireles was once again having to fend off advances by Jones and Jason--as she'd been doing ever since they'd returned from waylaying Billy Fogg.

"Come on Conchita, he ain't comin', cain't ya see?" Jones pleaded.

"I toll joo Senor, two hours. Eet has no been two hours jet. Leef Conchita alone!"

Over at the table occupied by the Murdochs and Masons, Tommy Mason had been watching the young woman attempting to fend off the obviously unwanted advances of Jones and Jason, and was getting fed up.

"Why don't you leave Conchita alone. I can tell she's gettin' tired a lookin' at your ugly faces." Tommy Mason said in a voice that was loud enough for the two gunmen to hear.

Jason and Jones both turned their attention to Mason. As Jones was preparing to reply, the batwing doors to the saloon swung inward and Billy Fogg strode in, one gun on his left hip, and another tucked in his waistband. Whatever reply Jones had intended for Mason was quickly forgotten as both his and Jason's jaws dropped open.

"Surprised to see me?" Fogg said challengingly. "I'll just bet you are. Holding his bandaged right hand aloft for all to see he said, "If you two weren't so damned stupid you'd of noticed I wear my gun on the left hip. You messed up the wrong hand. I hope you boys enjoyed relievin' yerselves like that, cause its gonna be the last time you ever do it-- that way anyhow."

By now, everyone in the saloon's attention had turned to the two Tanner gunmen and Billy Fogg. Both Jason and Jones had stepped away from the bar and were now facing Fogg directly, preparing to go for their guns. Jones, fearing to let Fogg speak any further and thus bring down Tanner's wrath on them for disobeying orders, decided to go for his gun. Fogg grabbed for his and Jason did likewise.

Both Tanner gunmen were astonished at Fogg's incredible speed, for the briefest of seconds, that is. Fogg's bullets caught each of them in the groin area. Both men slumped to the floor moaning piteously as their guns slid from their hands onto the floor. But Fogg's anger wasn't yet satisfied.

His shots had been fired in extreme haste and he wasn't absolutely certain that they had hit their mark. He strode calmly over to the two downed men and with his boot, calmly rolled both of them over on their backs. Next, pulling out the larger caliber 44 and bending over, Billy fired two shots apiece, point blank into each of their groin areas, thoroughly obliterating whatever had been left of their manhoods. He then quickly swung his gun in a wide loop, effectively covering the crowd as he hastened rapidly toward the swinging doors of the Boar's Head.

"'Fore you folks decide ta come after me I wanna say that these two knocked me down, tied me up, stomped my hand, then pissed all over me, about forty-five minutes ago. They won't be a pissin' on no one no more though, or if'n they do, they'll have ta squat like a girl ta do it!" the young gunman said and then broke out into a high pitched laugh. As he was backing out the doors, the sound of hoofbeats was heard coming from the outside of the saloon.

A quick backward glance satisfied Billy that it was his father, Tyler Dain, and Dancing Jack Haylock. Billy Fogg let out a loud rebel yell, ran over to his horse, mounted, and the four men wheeled around preparing to ride out of town. They noticed that the sheriff was running toward them and sent a barrage of bullets toward his running feet. They hadn't intended to hit him nevertheless, one bullet caught him in the great toe of his left foot and he went down. The riders then whirled their horses and thundered south out of Olsen's Falls.

The Murdochs along with several other patrons of the Boar's Head ran outside and found the sheriff stumbling toward the saloon, favoring his left foot. Bill Wyler had Roberto Mireles go for both of the town doctors.

"What happened, Sheriff?" Moose asked him.

"Sons a bitches got me in the toe." He replied sullenly, through clenched teeth. "What happened in the saloon?" He asked, and soon had the story concerning what had occurred.

"You gonna get up a posse and go after 'em Sheriff?" Josh Mason asked him tauntingly.

"Hell no. I'm gonna get my toe fixed up and go straight ta bed. Sounds like Tanner's men had it comin', if they really did do what Fogg claimed. And they drew first, so they must have." Orr gasped, his foot throbbing painfully.

Shane Murdoch walked up to the sheriff holding some new rope which was still wet. "I got this from the alley over there. The kid's story checks out."

Just then, several men exited the Boar's Head bearing the bodies of the two gunmen. Both were still alive. Jason, mercifully, was in shock, but Peaceful Jones was wide awake and suffering excruciating agony. Sheriff Orr followed the doctor in charge of Jason to his office thinking that all the noise Jones was making would be unbearable at that point, with his own injury just now beginning to cause him to gasp in pain.

"Been one hell of a night, ain't it boys." Moose said shaking his head in amazement. It had been a long time indeed since he'd witnessed so much action in one day.

"I'm gonna get me some shut-eye. Got a lot ta do tomorrow boys, and if ya'll got any sense, you'll do the same." Moose said addressing his sons and the Masons. The other cowboys who had ridden in with them and had just now arrived, having been over at the Silver Palace, offered no objections.

As Sheriff Orr was getting his toe, or what was left of it, patched up, and the Murdoch crew prepared itself for sleep, he began reflecting upon the day's events. It had not turned out badly for him after all. In fact, he thought, he had even come out looking good, especially after ordering the huge halfbreed out of town. As to Nighthawk's threat, well, the sheriff had no intention of getting himself caught in a place where Nighthawk could make good his threat. Nevertheless, he still shuddered at the thought of what Nighthawk had said.

Little did Sheriff Orr know however, that the night was not yet over for him. Not by a long sight. The action he had taken with regard to Nighthawk was about to prove to be the biggest mistake of his life--and, the last.

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