Hickok

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1

- No, no, you keep your

goddamn head down, all right?

You hear me?

Take out that gunner!

Stay here, you don't

move a goddamn muscle!

- Bill.

Bill, please,

please, don't leave.

Please don't leave,

I don't wanna die.

- Goddammit, kid.

- No, bill, please.

Bill, please.

Please.

Bill.

Bill, bill, don't leave!

- Wake up, bill.

Come on, wake up!

- Please, don't

shoot him, Luther.

- Nobody's gonna shoot nobody.

We're just here to

take bill to jail.

- Jail?

Now, hold on a minute,

I ain't done nothin'.

- You sell the horse and

the carriage to Sam here?

- Ain't nothin' wrong with

a little commerce, is there?

- But did you own that

horse and carriage?

- I would if I had

any kinda luck.

- Get up and get dressed.

And don't try nothin',

'cause I got your gun.

- Can I leave?

- Let her go.

She's a fine woman,

highly talented.

You may quote me, my dear.

- Thank you.

I'll come visit ya, bill.

- Go.

Sh*t!

- I need hardly remind

you that I never miss.

Your gun, please, and mine.

- You think you're gonna

get away with this, bill?

- Sam, open the closet.

Get inside.

- Oh, but, bill,

I'm not really good

in confined spaces.

- Sam!

Closet or the bullet, come on.

You, too, sheriff.

Sorry.

- I am not gonna forget this.

- I'm sure you won't.

Get inside.

- I'm comin' for ya, Billy.

- Everyone, please,

if you're boarding the train,

you must have a ticket.

I'm gonna need to

see a ticket, ma'am.

Sir!

- I'm sorry, your ticket,

or your money to buy one,

or your life.

- Hickok?

- Do I know you?

- Corporal Fred Finley.

You know, Reb uniforms,

behind Reb lines?

- Yeah, yeah, of

course, of course.

- Move out the way, please.

Sir, excuse me.

- Forgive me, I'm,

I'm desperate.

- Tickets, please,

what's goin' on here?

- It seems my friend here

has misplaced his wallet.

- Yeah, lose it all the time.

- Well, I'm still

gonna need a ticket, sir.

- Don't worry, I'll

take care of his ticket.

- A whiskey salesman, huh?

- Oh, yeah.

Bourbon, rye, Brandy,

through the whole

Midwest clear to Omaha.

- Suits you down to a T,

Ted.

- You don't remember me, do ya?

- What?

Don't remember my

favorite corporal?

- You remember

Mattie, my cousin?

- Well.

- I introduced you to her.

- Mattie, god.

Fred Finley.

- Bill Hickok.

- Whiskey.

- Be two bits.

- Okay.

You ever had Kentucky bourbon?

- Sir.

- Name's Phil Poe, proprietor

of this establishment.

- Bill, bill Hickok.

- Wild bill Hickok?

- Been known to go by that name.

- Ben, get Mr. Hickok a

bottle of my private stock.

Could I interest you in a game?

- Much obliged, but I...

- ah, no buts, no buts.

- Well, I can resist

anything but temptation.

- Well, we want you

to feel at home, Mr. Hickok.

Enjoy your bourbon.

And the game.

- Appreciate it.

- Yeah.

- So that's the

famous wild bill?

- Ah, hell, he don't look

like he got a pot to piss in.

- Gentlemen, I seem to have

misplaced my wallet, so,

if it's all the same

to you, then, uh,

my marker is my word of honor.

- House rules.

- You callin'?

- I'm raising.

20 more.

- Wait, hold on, you're

a goddamn cheater.

You've been winnin' every

hand all night long.

- Now, hold on, son.

This happens in poker.

Even a blind hog finds

an acorn once in awhile.

- Oh, yeah?

Who the hell are you?

- Now, there's no need for that.

Put the gun down.

You just, you have a lot

to learn about poker.

I'd be happy to teach you.

No, no, no, don't shoot

him, Sam, he's just a boy.

- Idiots.

- Good evening, gentlemen.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!

- What?

- Which one's your horse?

- Uh, that one.

- Much obliged.

Closer to the fire, so

I can see you, please.

What do you want, old man?

- You can start by

puttin' that gun away.

Name is George Knox,

mayor of that town.

I figured maybe we could

just go somewhere and talk

for a while.

It used to be quiet here.

A place where people

could raise their youngins

without the fear

of a stray bullet.

Things ain't so quiet anymore.

Now, we could use someone

with your skills to help us

get this town back

to that place.

How would you like to

be marshal of Abilene?

- Why the hell would I wanna

do a crazy thing like that?

- The same reason

you just interfered

in another man's quarrel

and put yourself between

him and a bullet.

'Cause sometimes it takes a

good man to stop bad people.

- I ain't a good man.

- Son, every man's

got his demons.

- How much does the job pay?

- A $100 a month.

- That's not nearly enough.

- 150 and $10 extra for

every man you arrest.

- What about each man I shoot?

- It ain't blood money.

$10 for every man

you arrest, not kill.

Now, we got a deal?

- Deal.

If you don't mind me asking,

what happened to

your last marshal?

- Resigned.

- You mean he was killed?

Well, that's gonna cost

you a little extra.

Say, a house and

some new clothes?

- I think we can handle that.

- Marshal, all right.

- Now, you fine

gentlemen let me know

if y'all need

anything else, okay?

- Thank you, ma'am.

- Thank you, ma'am.

- Mm-hmm.

- Gentlemen, within a week,

Abilene will be an island

in the sea of Texas

cattle and Texas humans.

- Will all due respect, mayor,

this is a good Christian

town, a god-fearin' town.

- Oh, for god's sakes, get

off your high horse, Jenkins.

You and I both know that Abilene

can teach Sodom and

Gomorrah a few lessons.

But, Knox, hirin' a gunslinger,

you think that's the right move?

- Damn right it is.

- Ooo-whee!

You sure are pretty.

- Damned if I ain't.

- You know, I can't

seem to figure out

how I ended up in here,

and you ended up out there.

Didn't you steal my horse?

- Son, I'm gonna give

you a word of advice.

You're sittin' at

the poker table,

and you can't see who

the idiot is, it's you.

I saved your life by

throwin' you in that box.

You should be thankful.

- Yeah, uh, just what did

ya hit me with, anyway?

- Big ol' bottle.

Scotch.

Damn shame.

- Bang, got you!

- What the hell are you doin'?

You followin' me

around with this?

- I wanna be a lawman

when I grow up!

- A lawman, huh?

Why aren't you in school?

- Don't you know nothin'?

It's Saturday.

- Saturday?

Well, go on, get outta here.

- I want my gun!

- No, I'm keepin'

your gun, I like it.

- I said I want my

gun, you bastard!

- Hold up your hands,

you son of a b*tch!

I saw what you did

to that poor boy.

You've run through your luck.

Every breath you

take from now on

is a personal present from me.

- You wouldn't murder a man

without givin' him a fair play,

would you?

- I'm gonna learn ya a lesson.

Can ya dance?

You look awful

pretty in that getup.

- Listen, why don't ya calm

down and I'll give you my guns?

- Yeah.

- You like the sound of that?

- Yeah.

- Here.

Son of a b*tch.

Somebody give me a hand here.

- Yeah, I'll take charge here.

- Mr. preacher.

- In addition to my holy duties,

I'm also the town undertaker.

- Well, that's handy, I guess.

- We are a god-fearin'

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