Three weeks went by and things had generally settled down. On this particular day however, the whole town was celebrating. Two major events were about to take place. One, Morgan Tanner, was to be hanged by the neck until dead. This was largely due to the testimony of Bolton's cook Erastus, who had overheard the Esperanza gang openly speaking of how Tanner had hired them. Also, it was in part due to the testimony of Jared Ransom. Greenbaum, Mayor Irvins and the other Tanner men, had barley escaped the noose, but had been sentenced to twenty years hard labor in the penitentiary. Logan had dropped all charges against Ransom and the two had shaken hands and sworn against any further hostilities, so the old man returned to the mountains. Tanner's hanging was to take place at noon.

The day was cloudy and overcast, and there was a slight breeze. Also, it was unusually cool for that time of year, thus there was a huge turnout. After the hanging, there was to be a no holds barred fight between two men who were widely regarded as the strongest, and toughest men in the west, if not the whole country; Brazos (Grizzly) Murdoch, and Lance Nighthawk. The two had gotten together and made the arrangements. The fight would be held outdoors, just outside of town. Nearly a thousand seats had been set up for the event, and the betting was heavy. It was eleven in the morning and even now, both men were performing feats of incredible strength, just to whet the crowd's appetite, and drive up the stakes in the betting..

Nighthawk for instance, had men harness two huge Missouri mules and attached the ends of the harnesses to the crook of his elbows. He bent his arms together to where his left and right fists were almost touching, and had the men start the mules, with no sudden jerks. The mules pulled their hardest but were unable to dislodge his arms. (A similar feat was performed many years later by a strongman named Louis Cyr).

Brazos Murdoch, not to be outdone, had some men throw together a platform, the roof of which was not nailed down to the supports. He had them drive the same mules atop it, then, squatting under it and feeling it for balance, hoisted the two mules and platform into the air. Neither man attempted to perform the same feats as the other, mainly so as not to prove precisely who was stronger. Both men however, had privately arm-wrestled to satisfy their own curiosity and one of them won with either hand, although not easily. However, this author will not say which other than to say that the one who won the arm-wrestling match, also won the fight, which we shall get to later.

Jack Duane had seemingly overcome his nerve damage and was now drawing and shooting as fast as ever, if not faster. Moose Murdoch was feeling hale and hearty and was in town to watch the hanging and his son's fight, along with most of his crew, and other son Shane.

Johnny Lancer had purchased the Fogg land and ranch, and was seeking to buy as much of Tanner's old property as possible. However, Tanner had been writing letters to his family insisting that they not sell the land to anyone who had any ties to Murdoch whatsoever. There were ways around such difficulties, however, but they could take time. Money was not a problem for Lancer, since he was in possession of the Dunstall gang's stolen loot and at the moment, he had little else but time. He wasn't worried. As of late, he had been seriously dating Conchita Mireles, a feat some thought miraculous. The girl was honestly thinking about giving up prostitution, since she'd heard that Johnny, was actually considering asking her to marry him. Nonetheless, both still had their doubts.

Jesse Logan was at the church with Charlene Lancer, resplendent in an immaculate white wedding gown, attending a wedding rehearsal for their own wedding which was to take place one week hence. Reverend Phelps was delivering one of his finest practice ceremonies and his wife was sitting in the pews, her face beaming proudly. She had recovered well from the shock of finding the dead and mutilated body of Sheriff Malcom Orr in her front yard. Her powerful faith in Christ had carried her through. If anything, both her and Reverend Phelps' faith had grown stronger since.

The hanging went off without a hitch. Tanner, to his credit, walked to the gallows bravely, back and shoulder's straight, and head held high and proud. When asked if he had any final words, he said, "I'm not sorry for what I've tried to do, but I am for how I went about it, and for the fact that I failed. Angus Murdoch, I'll finish this with you in Hell sir!"

With that, the trap door dropped and the body came to a halt with a sickening thud, and some standing close by, swore they heard the neck snap. They claimed that it sounded like a distant rifle crack although strongly muffled by the thud made when his body reached the end of the rope. His legs thrashed about for a few seconds and then were still. Reverend Phelps did not attend. The sight of death never brought him pleasure and even less so, when it was the death of an unrepentant sinner. The fact that so many people stood transfixed, and morbidly fascinated by the sight reminded him of just how badly his efforts were needed out in the west.

The fight, turned out to be far more thrilling. Murdoch and Nighthawk met in the center of the ring. Both were naked above the waist and were barefooted. The only rules were that neither man was allowed to bite, gouge eyes, kick or hit in the groin or throat. Anything else went, and the loser would be the one who was no longer able to continue.

The bell sounded and the two giants came together with a crash. Their arms interlocked and their head across each other's shoulders they began with a test of brute strength. Nighthawk soon began losing and was being bent backward when suddenly, he twisted his body and threw Brazos with what some would probably refer to as a hip roll. Murdoch crashed to the mat and as he attempted to regain his feet, Nighthawk's knee crashed into his face, splitting open his cheek and sending him sprawling backwards once again. Murdoch rolled over again and tried to regain his feet. Nighthawk used his knee once more, this time into Grizzly's midsection. However, Murdoch only grunted and sent an elbow into the halbreed's breadbasket.

As Nighthawk attempted to catch his breath, Murdoch back-handed him across the face, then hit him twice more, right and left, in the midsection. Nighthawk barely resisted doubling over and managed to come back with a weakened, but still powerful, blow to Murdoch's face. He followed that through with a kick to the face which once again knocked Murdoch to the canvas. As Brazos struggled up Nighthawk again attempted to knee him in the face. This time however, Murdoch caught the leg and threw Nighthawk to the ground. Both men attempted to get atop the other and neither succeeding, agreed to allow one-another back upon their feet.

The two men exchanged kicks, punches and gouges for another fifteen minutes with neither man gaining the upper hand. Finally, Brazos surprised Nighthawk and threw a side kick to his hip, slightly dislocating it. He then charged him protecting his own face with both forearms. Nighthawk was thrown into the ropes where Murdoch began pounding powerfully and furiously with both hands, raining blows to the body and face in rapid succession. Nighthawk managed a powerful shot to the side of the jaw that staggered Murdoch for a split second, but as he tried to push him away and get off the ropes where he could maneuver better, Murdoch caught him with a powerful right hook to the jaw. Nighthawk dropped to his knees and Murdoch swung another right downward with all his strength. It hit Nighthawk in the same spot and sounded like a rifle shot. Nighthawk went down.

He had to have assistance in regaining his feet. Murdoch, could not even find his way back to the corner however. He was punch drunk and his head was reeling. However, it was clear that the Grizzly had won.

Folks swarmed the two battered and bloody fighters, congratulating them both for throwing and taking blows, any one of which, would have easily killed most men. Jesse was making his way to the ring to add his own congratulations when Charlene grasped his hand and said, "Come on, handsome. You can congratulate Brazos later. Let's just you and me go fer a ride."

Both had changed back into their everyday clothing so Jesse asked, "Where to, my lovely, fair-haired lass?"

Charlene looked into his eyes, her own big, translucent, blue eyes sparkling, and with a wink and mischievous grin said, "I was thinking maybe, Apache Springs."

Jesse felt a thrill which rushed from his head to toes. He smiled and said, "Why not?" then kissed her passionately upon the lips. They then walked hand in hand down the street toward the livery stable where they'd left their horses. About halfway there, Jesse froze in his tracks. There in front of him, about thirty yards away, stood Tyler Dain. Jesse's blood ran cold. "No, not now, please, not now." he thought to himself. By that time, he had largely forgotten Dain, and no one had heard or seen anything of him.

"We've got a score ta settle, you and me, Logan. You killed my nephew. Remember, I warned you."

"I didn't want to, but he left me no choice, Dain." Logan said.

"Tell the girl ta step aside, Jesse. Don't want her to get hurt." Dain said sternly.

"Let it go, Tyler." Jesse almost pleaded.

"Can't do that pardner. Tell the girl to move, I said!"

"Charlene said, "Please, we're goin' to get married next week. If you kill Jesse, I swear my brother will kill you!"

"Look bitch, I'll go after your brother as soon as I finish with Logan. I got an old score ta settle with that bastard anyhow from back when he rode with the Dunstalls. He killed a couple of my pardners, so why don't you just go and get 'em ya stupid bitch!"

"That does it. Move aside Charley. No one talks to you like that and lives to tell about it." Logan said, his eyes narrowing and turning to the familiar gunmetal gray.

"Go for your gun you lousy son-of-a-bitch, 'cause I'm coming over there to stick it up your ass if you don't!" Logan started forward and Dain went for his gun.

Logan felt something slamming into his chest and he dimly realized that what he knew would inevitably happen, had finally occurred. He'd met a man who was even faster than he. He had been beaten. He could not recall if he'd gotten off a shot or not. He didn't think so. Out of the corner of his rapidly blurring vision, he noticed Charley screaming his name as everything went black. Jesse Logan collapsed into the dust of the streets of Olsen's Falls.

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