El Dorado Page #4

I'm looking for a gun for a fella

that can't shoot. Mississippi.

Swede Larson.

- Can you help us?

- I've got just what you want.

Good.

How wide will that shot spread?

How big a pattern?

I don't know. The fellow who used it

before, he couldn't see too good.

He just shoot where he hear

somebody talk.

- What happened to him?

- He has a fight in a saloon.

The piano player

he make so much noise,

he couldn't hear the other man,

so he just shoot the piano player,

and they hung him.

- Looks pretty good to me.

- Shoots good, too.

How about ammunition?

- Four or five boxes are enough.

- Good.

- Looks like what you need.

- Sure is.

- Pay the man. Swede.

- Cole, you come back soon.

A likely spot to try that new gun.

Try that cactus.

You can't miss with that.

It's all right.

- How far to El Dorado?

- We'll be in there around midnight.

Where are we headed?

- To see a girl.

- A girl?

Yes, a girl.

Don't you think I could know a girl?

- I always make you mad, don't I?

- Mostly.

Hold it. This. This is it.

Keep it quiet. I need to talk to you.

I'll let you in.

- Keep your eyes open.

- You pick the darnedest times...

- Who's he?

- Alan Bourdillion Traherne.

- Just call him Mississippi for now.

- Hi, Mississippi.

- Stay there and watch.

- Couldn't I...?

No.

I'm so glad to see you.

I've got so many things to tell you.

I've got a lot to say to you, but

first I've got to have some answers.

- Are there any strangers in town?

- No, I'd have known if there were.

This one you'd have noticed:

a dark, thin faced man

with a scar and a marled eye.

- Nelse McLeod.

- Nelse? I've heard of him.

Should've had four or five

riders with him.

- He's not here yet.

- Good.

At least we beat them in.

Now, about JP.

- Want the whole story?

- Just don't make it too long.

After you left,

I didn't see much of him.

He'd drop in for a drink once

in a while. I guess he was lonely.

One day a girl came into town,

just stepped off the stage and...

You know how kind...

She probably had big sad eyes and

a long sad story. That's his type.

Yeah. She was no good.

I tried to tell him, so did others.

Bull told him

and he knocked Bull down.

So JP had found out the hard way.

She ran off with a drummer.

He's not been sober since.

It's been about two months.

Well, that he's going

to have to get over quickly.

- Is he over at the jail?

- He's sheriff, I don't know why.

We'll mosey... Have you got a room

for Mississippi and me?

Sure.

Have you eaten anything lately?

- No.

- I'll have something ready for you.

I'm glad you're here.

- Don't tell anybody you saw us.

- I won't.

- I found one thing out.

- What?

You know a girl.

Hold it.

It's as far as you can come now.

Unless you've got some business here.

I sure have got business here, Bull.

Cole Thornton.

If it hadn't been so dark

I might have spotted you.

Might have anyhow,

if I hadn't been trying to figure out

what that other fellow's

got on top of his head.

- It's called a hat.

- I'll have to take your word for it.

He's a friend of mine.

They call him Mississippi.

- Glad to know you.

- Bull.

Glad you're here, Cole.

Our friend the sheriff ain't so good.

I just talked to Maudie.

He's back there sleeping.

Being as how you've known him

longer than I have,

you know enough to be careful

how you wake him up,

'cause he's a bad one

when he's drinking.

He ain't put that stopper

back in that bottle in a coon's age.

I know. You got someplace where

you can put these horses under cover?

- Sure.

- Give him a hand.

Bull, I'd just as soon everybody

didn't know we were back in town yet.

- What's up? Something in the wind?

- Jason's starting some more trouble.

I ain't surprised.

My neck itches like it used to

when a Comanche was around

and I couldn't see him.

Damn you, Bull.

What the hell are you doing here?

I'm looking at a tin star

with a drunk pinned on it.

Cole Thornton. How about that!

How about that! It's good old Cole.

Help me up out of here, Cole.

Come on, just pull me right on up.

Cole, he won't feel it.

Well, I owe him one.

Either one of you know

a fast way to sober a man up?

A bunch of howlin' Indians

out for hair will do it quick.

Johnny Diamond had a recipe.

Let's see:
cayenne pepper;

mustard, the hot kind; ipecac;

asafoetida; oil of cloves, or was

it...? No, it was croton oil.

Croton oil? I'll be a suck-egg mule!

You know what that'll do to a fellow?

Guaranteed kill or cure.

You know where you could get

that stuff this time of night?

Greener's store would have it.

May have to wake him up.

Go on with him, Mississippi.

Make sure he doesn't forget anything.

I... Look out, Cole!

Aren't you going to get that stuff?

He's all right.

- Get it before he wakes up again.

- Sure.

Let's see, we've got ipecac,

mustard, cayenne,

that leaves us asafoetida.

Are you sure that Johnny Diamond

wasn't an embalmer?

- Here's your gunpowder.

- Gunpowder?

Yeah. Mississippi remembered it

on the way to the store.

- Put it in.

- All of it?

- All of it.

- I hope you don't blow him up.

Well, it looks done.

Well, let's get it into him.

Bull, you sit on his legs.

- Cole, pin down his arms.

- Don't worry about us.

Get hold of his nose. If he can't

breathe, he'll have to swallow.

Give him one for me.

- All down.

- Let's get out of here.

Lock him in.

- We're coming in.

- Come ahead.

- Howdy, Cole, Mississippi.

- How's our friend?

Nary a peep. Not even moved,

not one twist the last two hours.

- You reckon he'll be all right?

- Ask him. It's his concoction.

I don't know how all right he'll be,

but he won't be drinking for a while.

- How come?

- It does something to the stomach.

- It won't hold liquor.

- You sure?

Sure, I'm sure, given he's human.

He's human all right.

He's got to be.

No other critter on earth

would make such a fool of himself.

Come open this door.

He's still drunk. Open it yourself,

it ain't even locked.

My friends.

My dear good friends.

You dirty, lousy, rotten,

sheep-herding...

What did you do to me?

What did you give me?

I'm all crawling inside.

Just hang on, sheriff.

It'll fetch you round.

- Who are you?

- We met last night.

Last night? When was that?

Come on, Bull. Where is it?

Top drawer of your desk.

- Nobody's going to try to stop me?

- Nobody.

That's a good thing.

You dirty...

Take a look.

All right, Bull. You better wake up.

- Jason brought his outfit into town.

- Could be to meet McLeod.

Yeah, could be.

- You going to tell the sheriff?

- No, let him sleep.

Here comes some more of them.

You gals do your shopping.

We'll meet you back here.

Stay together. Go on with them, Joey.

- Dusty out there.

- Who are they who've just come in?

MacDonalds. They come to town

every Saturday afternoon.

I wish they hadn't.

Bull, it'd be a good idea if you hung

around where the MacDonalds are.

I guess I'd better.

Watch out for 'em... We'll keep an

eye on our friend across the street.

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