Forty Guns

Whoa. Hey, where can

we get a bath?

Barney Cashman's Russ House,

across the street.

Thanks. Wes.

Save a bath for me.

Leave me alone. Keep away from me,

Brockie.

Don't make me shoot you.

- What's wrong, John?

- Huh?

Since when did you start

pulling a gun on a man's back?

Griff? That you, Griff?

You promised you'd wear glasses.

Griff. Just goes to show if you pray

long enough, something happens.

Praying never gave a man the shakes.

- Who's picking on you, John?

- A boy, Griff.

A wet-nose, but mean, ugly.

- He was drunk...

- He made you skin back, didn't he?

He gave me an hour to get out of town.

- Then you'd better go.

- You gotta help me.

I didn't come to town

to spank a wet-nose.

If he throws down on me,

I haven't got a chance.

Your eyes have been getting

worse, haven't they, John?

I'm broke. I've got

to hang on to my job.

There's nothing else I can do.

You and me only got one trade.

Take it away from us,

and what do you got left?

There's a good eye doctor in Prescott.

Oh, I can't sneak out like that, Griff.

You haven't got any choice.

You must have a good reason

for not wanting to help me.

- It's none of my business.

- Then why are you here?

Start running, John.

Run before your eyes give out all the way.

What if the doctor can't make me see?

Then you'll be blind instead of dead.

Put it back, Barney.

- Griff.

- How are ya, Barney?

That you behind

the shrubbery, Wes?

Yep. How's nosy Barney?

Bankin' my silver, boys.

This camp's a bonanza.

- I told you, Griff.

- Our brother, Chico,

he's headed for California.

- California? With all the diggin's here?

- Our folks are out there.

I couldn't help reading the name

on that warrant, Griff.

You'll need more than a third gun

to pick up Howard Swain.

- You know where I can find him?

- Out at the Dragoons.

We passed nothing out there but a woman

on a white stallion and a regiment of riders.

Then you've seen Jessica Drummond...

the one I just sung about,

the one I wrote the ballad about.

- Nobody around the Dragoons

is allowed to sing it.

- So that's Drummond, huh?

Yep. Boss of Cochise County.

She and them 40 guns

that ride with her.

Beautiful woman, ain't she, Griff?

- Swain one of her 40 thieves?

- He sure is.

- Howdy, Marshal.

- Howdy, Shotgun.

- Going someplace?

- Just up the road a piece.

- Hello, Marshal.

- Howdy, Miss Louvenia.

Chisholm!

Where you goin'?

You're runnin' out, ain't ya?

Please, Brockie! Please!

Give me your coffee.

Have some coffee, Marshal.

Slap that leather, Marshal.

Please, Brockie.

You don't know what you're doin', son.

You're no gunfighter.

You're a mouth-fighter!

- Now, pull that plow handle.

- Please, Brockie!

Isn't there a sensible man here

that can stop this drunken...

Dad!

Now, that's a marshal for ya.

Come on, Charlie.

Lets go have some fun.

- How is he, Doc?

- He'll live, but he'll be stone blind.

- Why didn't you take my advice, John?

- I did.

You need a gun, Griff?

Mr. Spanger here...

No, it's not my fight.

- I'll put a stop to this.

- You can't tangle with 'em.

Nobody's gonna wreck

my shop.

He's a gunsmith, not a gunfighter.

Mr. Gunsmith!

- Yes, Mr. Bonell?

- All right, Wes.

- Where's your shop?

- I'll be glad to show you,

Mr. Bonell. Come on! Come on!

Let's break up the store.

- Which one, Brockie?

- That one!

Let me have a.44-40.

Charlie! Charlie Savage!

Look who's comin'.

- I'm gettin'outta here.

- What's the matter, Charlie? You sick?

There's only one man walks like that.

When he gets closer, I'll skin him!

What's the matter with you guys?

He's all alone!

Aahh!

Stand back, mister!

I'm givin' ya fair warning!

Stand back, mister!

Here.

Thanks, Mr. Spanger.

Oh, uh, here.

- That's for the bullet.

- It'll cost you six bits to clean the rifle.

Ya know, that rifle could

stand a little readjustment.

I almost killed him. Yeah.

She even looks good in overalls.

- Who?

- Built like a.40-40.

I'd like to stay around long enough

to clean a rifle.

Wes, Chico, let's go!

Can you see me a farm dog? Me...

I cut my teeth on a gun.

They're still milk teeth.

Remember what Pa says:

"They who labor in the earth

are the chosen people of God."

But I don't wanna be a chosen people.

I wanna be Griff' s third gun.

If he'd only give me a chance,

I wouldn't let you down.

A man never knows what

he'll do in a showdown.

- Were you ever scared?

- All the time.

I got your ticket.

See that you don't lose it.

I read in the paper there's been

lots of stagecoach accidents.

Holdups... three and four a week.

Desperadoes killed all the passengers.

They never bother women or boys.

- If you were my size, I'd make you eat that.

- Excuse me, gentlemen.

- Which one is Griff Bonell?

- What can I do for you?

I'm Ned Logan, Mr. Bonell,

the sheriff of Cochise County.

I guess you must be Wes, huh?

Now, I'm sorry

a bunch of drunken rowdies...

had to be your welcoming party, Mr. Bonell.

- Staying in town long?

- Long enough.

That Brockie's a spoiled kid.

That pistol-whipping

ought to sober him up.

- He's all yours.

- I don't want him.

I just come to thank you for...

thank you for tossing him in jail.

Too bad I wasn't around

to give old Chisholm a hand...

but, you see, I... I had to

ride to the border on business.

With all your deputies?

Well, being sheriff and tax assessor...

and collector all at the same time...

a man needs plenty of help.

Cowmen have a way of

lyin' about their herds.

Yeah. It gets pretty tough sometimes

dodging Apaches when you have to...

serve writs of attachment on outlying

ranches and mines and sawmills.

Uh, you here on official business?

Yes, I guess you do have

your hands full at that.

Thinkin' of pounding

the hills for a little silver?

Right now, I'm thinking

of pounding out a telegram.

Oh, well, this is the place

right here to do it.

Tex'll take care of you.

Tex, a friend of mine...

wants to send a message.

I seen you make the walk, Mr. Bonell.

A little slower than that stroll

you took in Dodge City.

Would you send that, please?

Uh, "To Nicholas Bonell."

I was in the cavalry with a

Captain Nick Bonell in '47 in Mexico.

He got hit in the leg

and was invalid at home.

- That was, uh, 34 years ago.

- He's my father.

- Is the leg any better?

- It will be when he gets that telegram.

"Nicholas Bonell, Colton, California.

"All in good health.

"Chico leaving Saturday.

"Will write after we

complete our business here.

- Signed, Griff and Wes."

- Thank you.

Well, Mr. Bonell,

anything I can do for you, I'll be here.

Thank you, Mr. Logan.

Just a little bump

on the head, Jessica.

Where's the man who

assaulted my brother?

- I barreled him.

- Why isn't he locked up?

There was no charges against him.

You know who he is.

I'm quite familiar with Mr. Bonell's talents.

A legal killer for hire.

I'm surprised a man of his caliber

would put his brand on a calf.

That calf was old enough to put

a.45 slug in a blind man's leg.

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