Earlier that morning, shortly after Ballard and his posse left the Murdoch Ranchhouse, a dark figure moved silently closer to the house. He waited in the shadows cast by the bright moonlight until all the lights were doused, then crept still closer. Once more, he then waited, this time for nearly another hour, before he silently crept into the house through the front door, which no one had bothered to lock. Slowly, he climbed the stairs, being careful not to cause any of them to creak.

Stealthily, the figure advanced to Charlene's bedroom door, testing it, found it too, was unlocked. He carefully opened it and slipped in. As the menacing figure strode over to the bed, he stopped briefly to admire Charlene's beauty, her face bathed in the moonlight which streamed softly through her bedroom window. Suddenly, Charlene awoke and gave a startled yelp of horror before her mouth was covered and her body was pressed downward and she was unable to move. "Muerte!" she realized in terror.

The bandit swiftly rolled her over, his right hand still stifling any screams, then with his left hand, dealt her a blow to the back of the neck. The blow temporarily knocked her unconscious and he promptly stuffed a rag into her mouth, and with another one, gagged her securely. He then ripped off her gown and proceeded to tie her up. As he finished tying her ankles to each bedpost, he began on her wrist. She awoke, and with her free hand, flailed outward, knocking a book off her nightstand onto the floor.

In the room directly below Charlene's, Jack Duane had been unable to sleep. He still felt as though he should have gone with Ballard and the others, and was thoroughly disappointed that he had been unable to do so. Restlessly, he finally got up and decided to dress and take his chances. He knew where the posse was heading, and although he might miss out upon the action, he could possibly manage to be of some use. At least, he would know the outcome. He quickly searched about for his jeans when he heard what sounded like a sharp cry upstairs, which had been stifled abruptly. Duane froze. Hearing creaking and what sounded like a struggle, he quickly strapped on his gunbelt and stole quietly and painfully upstairs. His left heel was still paining him fiercely.

Probably, the noise he'd heard was nothing. He was simply wound up from the past few days' events. Nevertheless, it didn't hurt to check. He strode over to Maggie's room and peeked in the doorway, even though that was not the room from which he heard the sound. She was quietly sleeping. He silently closed the door when he heard a thump in the room across the hallway. Quietly, in his bare feet, he crept over to the doorway and peeked through the key-hole and once again, froze. Muerte was straddling her body on his knees, preparing to undo his pants. Instantly, Duane slammed his shoulder into the door, breaking it open. Muerte quickly abandoned his task and the two men went for their guns. Duane felt his gun buck in his hand, then, suddenly, found himself unable to move and collapsed upon the floor, completely passing out.

He awoke to find himself back in the bedroom he had been using and in the bed. Maggie, Charlene, Cora and Moose were hovering over him with concerned looks upon their faces. Duane quickly tested his fingers and toes, and finding that he could move again, began to sit up.

"Lay down you stubborn man!" Maggie ordered sharply.

"Muerte! Is he...?" Duane started to ask.

"You got 'em son, plumb center in the forehead. I tell ya, I been 'round some mighty fast an accurate gunslingers in my time, includin' Jesse Logan and my nephew Johnny Lancer. But I reckon you take the blue ribbon boy!" Moose said, somewhat in awe.

Duane sighed with relief and asked, "You okay, Charley?"

"Yeah, Jack, thanks to you. He never hurt me none, but I know he was goin' to. I reckon he was plannin' on raping me first, and Lord knows how, but you stopped 'em."

"Thank God. I couldn't tell whether I'd gotten him or not. My body just quit on me and the lights went out. Woke up and found myself here. At first, I thought he'd shot me." Duane explained.

"It's like I warned you Mr. Duane, any sharp sudden movement on your part is likely to offend that nerve. You moved so quickly that time that it aggravated the nerve so badly that you passed out. You could have died!" Doctor MacDonald scolded from the doorway.

"I WOULD have died if I hadn't moved so fast Doc, I guarantee you that, and so would have Charley here." Duane countered.

Ignoring Duane's statement, Doctor MacDonald turned his attention to Moose and said, "Well Mr. Murdoch, I've loaded the body into the buckboard like you said. If I may return to town later this morning, I'll take it in."

"Yeah, you can leave. I reckon I'll be fine now. Make damn sure Duane here gets the credit, and the reward for this."

"I will, Mr. Murdoch, and although I strenuously objected to being kidnapped and brought here against my will, I must confess you all have treated me like royalty. I also now understand the necessity of your being here rather than there. Now, If no one objects, I'm going to try and get some sleep before starting for town later this morning."

"By all means Doc, sleep as long as ya like." Moose said magnanimously. And with that, the rest of them retired to do the same thing.

The posse arrived in Olsen's Falls shortly before eight in the morning. They saw to it that the prisoners (five, including Tanner) were locked up. Ballard assembled together the townsfolk who were out and about at that time, and addressed them saying, "I've got twenty-five men here with me. As ya'll can see, we got Tanner, and four of his men. Now, Lancer and me would like to get some sleep, and so would most of this posse. Hell, most of 'em would like to get back to the Murdoch spread. They've got chores ta do. But keep in mind, they did you and us a favor by agreein' to get up at three-thirty in the mornin', to go out chasin' down Tanner and his bunch. They risked their lives and shot it out with almost as many men. Point is, if the town is plannin' on tryin' to lynch Tanner, they're gonna have to stay and maybe shoot it out with ya'll too. Now is that the way ya'll are goin' to show yer appreciation, or will ya'll give your solemn word that ya won't try and lynch Tanner, so they can go home and get some sleep?"

The people cheered saying that the posse could go home, but Ballard raised his hands, once again calling for silence. The crowd quieted. "I appreciate that now, but I want ta be able ta get some sleep at the hotel, and so does my pard here, Lancer. I want a promise from you. The whole town ain't here right now. Some of them, may not agree to what ya'll just agreed to. They might take it on themselves ta lynch Tanner anyway. If that happens, will ya'll stand beside me, as I have stood for you, and help me and my deputy fight 'em off?"

"The crowd responded as one with a resounding "YES!!"

"Good then, I'll explain what happened as quick as I can, then Lancer and I are gonna get some shuteye. And Heaven help the s.o.b. that wakes us up for no good reason!" The crowd once again cheered and Ballard had to quiet them before he could explain how they'd captured Tanner. Another cheer went up when he arrived at the part where Tanner had drawn upon Logan and lost. Thus, Logan received much of the credit again, as he had for killing Esperanza.

Many were shouting their desire to appoint Logan as deputy marshal or even marshal. Ballard quieted them and said, "Don't forget what Duane's already done. Anyhow, I don't think Logan wants the job, seein's how I already offered him a deputy's badge and he wouldn't take it." Logan was smiling, but shaking his head negatively.

"Anyhow," Ballard continued, "You'll have ever' chance ta vote for whoever ya'll want in about six weeks. Fer now, yer stuck with me and Duane, and he'll be back soon, from the looks of 'em earlier this mornin'. Course, he won't be his usual self, I reckon the poor s.o.b.'s in love."

The crowd chuckled at that as Ballard and Lancer headed to the hotel to get some sleep. Bill Wyler had offered to continue guarding the prisoners until they were ready to take over. * * *

At about noon, Lancer was awakened by a sharp pounding on his door and a voice crying "Sheriff! Sheriff, ya gotta get up!"

"Lancer got up, opened the door and gruffly said, "Wrong room, I'm the deputy."

"Well, it's about you too."

"Well, just what's so danged important that I shouldn't shoot ya fer wakin' me up?"

The man backed up a couple of steps and couldn't find any words. Obviously, Lancer's own words had truly frightened him.

"Hell Mr., I was just kiddin'. Come on, out with it!"

"Well Mr. Lancer, there's these three men in town, they're lookin' fer you and Sheriff Ballard. They said if'n ya'll ain't yellow, ta come meet them at the Boar's Head. Said it was a personal matter"

"Oh great!" Lancer said tiredly. "Have any idea who they are?"

"Yessir, they're the same ones that gunned down those MT gunmen last night, Blackjack Slade, Slinger Hawk and..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know who they are. Thanks fer tellin' me. Now go on. I'll tell Ballard." Lancer said, as he stepped out into the hallway and strode over to Ballard's room.

Ballard answered his knock, and Lancer related to him what the man had said. Tiredly rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Ballard shrugged and said, "Well pardner, I reckon here's where we get to find out if we're as good as we think we are."

The two quickly got dressed and headed down to the Boar's head. They strode through the swinging doors and the crowd became silent in their anticipation.

Lomax, Slade and Hawk slowly turned from the bar and faced them. "We warned ya what would happen if ya'll didn't live up to yer word and keep Captain Fogg safe. We've come to see that you two pay up." Blackjack said.

Ballard attempted to explain what had happened and why, but they would have none of it. "We warned you, and I don't give a shit what your excuses are. Now are ya gonna step outside, or do we take ya right here?" Blackjack asked.

Just then the batwing doors swung open and a voice behind Ballard and Lancer said, "Count me in on this play." Jack Duane strode into the room, wearing his marshal's badge upon his chest.

"Hell Jack, ya ought to be in bed!" Ballard said, secretly pleased that Duane was there. He feared none of the men before him, but all were in his league and he knew it. Lancer did also, and three men of their caliber against two, was probably too much. Duane, if he were fit, evened the odds considerably.

"We ain't got no quarrel with you Marshal, you weren't responsible, hell you weren't even here. Anyhow, this ain't about law, it's personal." Lomax said.

Duane removed his badge and laid it upon a nearby table. "Fine then, these men are my friends, and I stand beside them, law or no law!"

Lancer and Ballard removed their badges as well, then the three men then stepped out on the street about thirty feet apart. Slinger Hawk said, "I want Ballard."

"Then I reckon this dance is your's, Hawk." Ballard replied casually and the three stepped apart and faced off. Ballard across from Hawk, Duane from Lomax, and Lancer from Slade.

Ballard stopped suddenly, "Hold up a bit. CONCHITA!" he yelled. Conchita Mireles reluctantly stepped outside. "Connie, these three men are in a hurry ta get to Hell and meet their boss. They want us to help 'em get there. Problem is, whoever draws first has the advantage. So would ya do me a big favor, and take this silver dollar, and toss it into the air. When it hits the ground. we'll draw. Agreed all around?"

"Fair enough." Hawk said. So Ballard handed Conchita the coin and she stepped back and tossed it high into the air. The coin landed with a muffled thud.

It was over in a heartbeat. Duane crumpled to the ground, Lancer grasped his groin area, and all three ex-Fogg gunmen hit the dirt dead. Ballard was, once again, unscathed. He quickly turned his attention to Duane, kneeling down beside him. Duane was unconscious, but there was no mark to be found on him. Doctor MacDonald ran up to them and Ballard explained, as a crowd gathered around.

"That man is as stubborn as any I believe I've ever seen. I hope he pulls out of it this time" Doctor MacDonald said and then went on to explain Duane's problem with moving too quickly. As he was still speaking, Duane awakened, flexed his fingers, then toes, then groaned, "Shit, not again!"

His boot-heel had been shot off, the same one that had been injured in previously, the left one. It was bleeding once again.

"Looks like yer gonna need new boots again." Ballard said grinning.

"Doctor MacDonald said, "Well Mr. Duane, you were up in just under five minutes this time. Earlier this morning when you had to draw fast, it took you almost half an hour. You must be getting better. Now if you'll just follow my advice and not make any sudden moves, you might be just fine within a month!"

Duane grinned and said, "Way my foot feels right now, I almost wish I had waited a little longer to wake up. At least by then, you'd have had time to fix it up for me somewhat whilst I was sleeping. But I'll try to follow your advice, I promise."

"What do you mean, 'Like he did earlier this morning?'" Ballard asked.

As they headed back to the Doctor's office to see to Duane's heel, MacDonald explained about Duane hearing Muerte in Charlene's room attempting to rape her and no telling what else, and her subsequent rescue by Duane. How Duane had later insisted upon returning to town with Doctor MacDonald, and how no one had been able to convince him otherwise, not even Maggie.

"Hell, I thought Nighthawk had tossed that devil over a cliff." Lancer said.

"I reckon he did, but the tree limbs below must have broken his fall somehow." Duane said.

"I'm certain that is true. I examined his body after you shot him and found a number of bruises and abrasions, along with numerous scratches and puncture wounds. All of which would occur in a fall such as that, into a tangle of tree branches." Doctor MacDonald said as they entered his office.

Ballard noticed blood soaking high upon the inside of Lancer's right pantleg. "Hell Johnny, looks like ya durn near lost yer jewels."

"Yeah, almost. Bullet creased me right under 'em. Good thing too, Conchita would've died of a broken heart if'n I'd a lost 'em. I'm her favorite customer ya know."

"Oh yeah, and the most humble and modest as well." Duane said sarcastically.

While Doctor Macdonald attended to Lancer and Duane's wounds, a crowd gathered down the street outside the undertaker's shop. Jaime Vasquez had laid out the body of Muerte in his shop and was charging a silver dollar per person, to view the body. He had charged fifty cents for viewing the body of Emillio Esperanza and had earned nearly seven hundred dollars that day. He was a very happy man as of late. At the end of that day, he earned nearly two-thousand dollars. Business had been booming over the past week. Jaime Vasquez, was a rich, important man among the Mexicans as of late. In a week's time, he had made what was to him, a small fortune.

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