5 Card Stud

- Four|- Pair of jacks.

Two sevens.

Nothing.

Jacks bet.

Call.

Play for fifteen.

I'm out.

Call.

Out.

Bust.

- Five.|- Fold.

Deal me out.|I'll be back for the next turn.

Same game, five card stud.

But...

...when I deal, I like to start|with all fifty-two cards.

There's only one thing worse|than a crook, that's a clumsy crook.

Keep the money,|just give me my horse.

- You'll get your horse and a rope.|- No, hey...!

- Who was shooting?|- It turned into a hanging party.

- Hanging who?|- The new man, for cheating.

You kick a cheat out of town,|not lynch him.

What the hell are you doing?

Hey, George.|Wake up and get out here.

Lay still, boy. Come on.

Get him up to his room. Let me know|if he needs anything, except brains.

How come you didn't hear|when they dumped me there?

I sleep pretty good sometimes.

No questions about last night?

I knew what was gonna happen,|and it did.

They weren't just five men, they|were a mob. I tried to stop them.

I believe you.

When a gambler lets his game|wind up in a killing,

pretty soon he don't have a game.

You know anything about this?

What about you?

Was there a game downstairs|after I closed up last night?

Maybe you're right at that.

But I don't know, I can't swear to it.

You know, I always wanted|to bust into that glass

to find out what your hole card was.

What do you think it was?

Ace of diamond.

I think you had your royal flush.

So did the other man.|But he folded, so he never found out.

- Where you heading?|- Anywhere, to leave this place behind.

But first I got to deliver a message.

- Finish packing for me?|- All right.

- Morning, Mr Evers.|- Hello, Van.

Stoney, Mace. How are you feeling?

- Never better.|- Same. How are you?

I'd say come and visit me,|but I know better.

- My daughter's in, go on up.|- Thank you.

What are you doing out in the sun?|You sleep all day.

- I had to get up early to pack.|- Pack?

You're always coming or going.|When will you decide to stay?

People who stay have no place to go.|Where's your brother?

If you're going to say|goodbye again, say it.

- Goodbye.|- Say it properly.

All right... There.

That was one wore-out,|no-account kiss.

How was that?

Fine, but you wasted it.|I don't plan to come back this time.

It wasn't wasted.|You enjoyed it. And you'll be back.

Nora, you're the most foolish thing|in the world, a good woman.

Why foolish?

She'll push herself up against|a man till he forgets she's good.

- Then she expects marriage.|- How else would she end up?

With me she could end up|picking hay from her dress.

Wanna bet?

Don't gamble on my better instincts.|I don't have any.

I just have instincts.

Nick!

Nick! Van wants to see you.

Here I am. How do I look?

From up here, just about right.

You two have been fighting|each other for years.

What's your reason this time?

We don't need a reason.

I got one. I don't like him.

Do you think about|that card player much?

Just all the time.

Big mistake,|getting wound up with a gambler.

- You gamble right along with him.|- But not for a living.

What do you do for a living?|Sit around till you own the ranch?

Only half of it.|The other half will go to you.

Just giving you|some brotherly advice.

You're not worried about me,|just about yourself.

If Van was my husband,|you couldn't run him. He'd run you.

No way.|I've had a gutful of that from Dad.

You could get along better with Dad|if you tried. And with Van, and everybody.

Why don't they try|to get along with me?

- Hello, Van.|- Marshal.

- Any news on the hanging?|- Nothing to hang anybody with.

- I don't even know his name.|- What do you do in a case like that?

You bury the man,|but keep him in mind.

- You're off to Denver. Going for long?|- Depends on Denver.

- Everybody in for Denver!|- Why are you going?

In my business,|you gotta follow the play. So long.

All right, Charley.

Pair of fives. Nine.

- Fives bet.|- I'll bet ten.

From what I read,|you left Rincon too soon.

I don't know. That gold strike|improves nothing to damn little.

You'll miss the easy pickings.

There's no easy pickings|till they get it out of the ground.

There's no easy pickings|in Denver, either.

Ma'am.

- Ma.|- Fred.

There's only one kind|of people I don't like: strangers.

That's not a stranger,|that's progress.

Sure. They tell me he's bringing in|a long mahogany bar.

Real long. When the front end gets here,|the rear end will still be in St Louis.

You stand to lose customers.

The ones I've been getting|I'd just as soon lose.

Whatever happens over there,|my place stays the same:

good liquor,|a few card games and no girls.

- You might lose all your customers.|- Then to hell with them.

My name is Jonathan Rudd.

I come from God's House,|just a little way up the street.

The House is ready for use,|to hear God's word.

If He's only got one, I'll be there.

First services will begin|on Sunday morning at 9 a. m.

You're all invited:

the drunk, the sober,|the big and little sinners,

the clean and the unwashed.

The many who'll come to scoff|and the few who'll come to pray.

You can count on me, Parson.

I'm the dirtiest, drunkest,|most sinful fella the Lord ever saw.

There'll be a place for you.|There was a seat for Judas.

Ma'am.

- Deal.|- Who's Judas?

Let's get to gambling.

O, come, sinner, come|there's room for thee

Hark, 'tis God's home

O, come and receive salvation free

Hark, 'tis God's home

O, come and rest, come and rest

Heavy-laden guilt oppressed

O, come and rest, come and rest

Hark, 'tis God's home

Amen

Well, I see|God's House is full today.

But I don't think I've started|any religious revival.

You came here out of curiosity,|most of you.

And your curiosity was|mainly brought on by Mr Colt.

If I hadn't fired that gun, there'd be|nobody here but me and the dog.

Before I came here,|there was nobody but the dog.

You didn't seem to think you needed|a church, just a big doghouse.

But I'm here to tell you,|you need a praying place.

You want to know why? I'll tell you why.|Because you're hell-bent for hell.

The Lord saw fit|to sprinkle gold here.

Man and his greed|is turning Paradise into a pigsty.

By day he sweats|for a pinch of yellow dust,

and at night he squanders it on lust.

But let's not blame our sins|on the gold.

There was sin here|before it was found.

Just a while ago, a man was hanged,

for no reason|that ever came to light.

Nor were his murderers|ever brought to book.

They walk the streets|as free as you and I.

But their Maker knows who they are.

They can't escape from Him,|and He will punish them.

Now I say to you, mend your ways.

Your feet are already|on the downward path.

Stop!

Before the fires below devour you.

Amen.

May God bless you all.

You plan to be the conscience|of this town?

- It could use one.|- Somebody elected you?

God.

And Mr Colt, first name Samuel.|Sort of biblical, isn't it?

Mr Colt votes a lot of people in.

- He also votes a lot of them out.|- You're forgetting about God.

Why not let God do his own work?

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