Open Range Page #2

Like robbery.

Lot of money.

Oh, yes, a lot of money.

I been waiting for you,|Mr. Spearman.

My name's Denton Baxter.

Be your men Mose tussled with.

That's right.

You know, folks|in Fort Harmon country

don't take to free grazers|or free grazing.

They hate them more than they|used to hate the Indians.

I expect by "folks,"|you mean ranchers like yourself.

I got the biggest spread around.

Bigger than any three or four|put together.

Built it up with me own|two hands,

piece by piece,

along with this town.

And there ain't no|free-graze cattle

gonna take the feed|off my cattle on this range.

Free graze is legal.

Times change, Mr. Spearman.

Most folks change with them.|A few holdouts never do.

You know, a few years back,

a free-graze outfit|came through.

One night,|the cattle got stampeded,

the wagons caught on fire,|and one of those boys

was shot off his horse|in the middle of it all.

Shot in the back, was he?

Your man's horse and rig|are at the livery barn.

You can take him with you|when you leave tonight.

And come sunrise,|you hitch up your wagon

and get your damn|free-graze cattle moving

and keep them moving till you're|out of Fort Harmon country!

Now, you let Mr. Spearman|fetch his man

so he can be on his way.

Charley.

- Mose.

Mose.

Looks like someone's put the|boots to him after he was down.

Does it?

Mose, you gotta get up.

Charley, I'm glad to see you.

I don't much like this town.

Here you go.

Boy, they really lit into him.

You got a doctor in this town?

Yeah.|Doc Barlow.

It's the house up behind|the barn by the church.

Look for a picket fence.

He's got a sign out front.

Oh, my.|Bring him right in.

Lay him down in there.

I'll fetch the doctor.

Get his legs, Boss.

Easy, easy.

Good.

I'm Dr. Barlow.

Boss Spearman.

Charley Waite.

Patient there's Mose Harrison.

He works for me.

These wounds are old.

Easier to treat|if you bring him in right away.

Your marshal had him, and he|don't keep a friendly jail.

This is the man who was in the|fight with Dent Baxter's men?

He certainly gave|as good as he got.

Broke the arm of one.

Knowing them,|they had it coming, I expect.

Let's see what we got here.

- Aah!|- Easy.

- Easy, Mose.|- Easy, Mr. Harrison.

Nobody's trying to hurt you|on purpose.

I'd say you got a couple|of broken ribs.

Gonna need to get|this shirt off.

Sue, I am gonna need some soap,|some water, and some alcohol.

I want you to drink this,|Mr. Harrison.

- That's it.

Let's clean up these cuts|on his face.

He's got a nice gash|in his scalp there.

I'd say to good health,

but then I'd probably be out|of business.

We'll drink to good health|for them that have it coming.

The two of you|can wait in the parlor.

Be better he didn't travel.

Well, he'll have to.

How much I owe you, Doctor?

We're even.

I figured I made enough off the|damage he did to Baxter's men.

Wish he'd have made you wealthy.

Ma'am.

Doc Barlow's got him|a pretty wife.

Notice that, did you?

Well, I ain't dead.

Glad to hear it.

Sweet, too.

Treated us as good as anybody.|That's a real lady.

A woman like that makes a man

think about|setting down roots, eh?

Doc looks like a real|hardworking feller.

Probably working away on making|some little ones, too.

Creates quite a picture,|now, don't it?

Yeah.

Heard they're worth|a thousand words.

Hey, Tig.

Now, where do you suppose he is?

Goddamn kid.

Button's all right, Boss.

Anyone done him harm, they'd|have gone through the wagon.

Reckon you're right.

Here he is.

If you're awake,|you might want to see this.

- Where you been?!|- I seen it before.

Out with the herd.

I thought I told you|to stay with the wagon.

- What happened to Mose?|- Did you hear what I said?!

Yeah, but what happened?

Run into a little trouble|in that town.

Looks like more than a little.

Are we moving on?

We always do, don't we,|once we've grazed off a place?

Did I do something wrong?

Just leave him be for a while.

Here.|Have some coffee.

Made fresh, for a change.

There was three riders scouting|up the herd this morning.

Where?

Maybe half a mile out.

Just sitting there,|looking at the cattle.

Same ones?

Four this time.

Country's filling up.

Maybe we should push on.

Do no good, Button.

I seen them like Baxter before.

He means to have this herd|or scatter it to the wind.

If he was gonna take the herd,

why not just keep you in town?

Marshal already had Mose.

Wants us all in one place.

Far from there when it happens.

Don't make no sense, him telling|us to move on and all.

Weren't the only thing he said.

Most time, a man will tell you|his bad intentions

if you listen,|let yourself hear.

A few years back, a free-graze|outfit come through.

That weren't no idle story.

Let's find out for certain.

Beautiful country.

A man can get lost out here,

forget there's people and things|that ain't so simple as this.

How long we been|riding together, Charley?

Nigh on 10 years.

Mm-hmm.

You know what they call that,|call it a decade.

Long time.

Been a lot of change since then.

What's on your mind, Boss?

Way I figure it, we can leave|the cattle and run,

or you and me can go in the dark|and stop them

before they scatter the herd.

You reckon them cows are worth|getting killed over?

The cows is one thing.

But one man telling another

where he can go in this|country's something else.

That rancher sat|in that jailhouse,

sneering and letting|his lawman lay down the law

till he figured|it was time to show us

that he gave the orders|around here.

Ooh, sticks in my craw.

Well, we sure as hell owe them|for what they done to Mose.

Yeah.

I'll saddle the horses.

You two keep a sharp eye out.

Got the scatter-gun.|We'll be watching for them.

You'll want to douse that fire.

Button, keep to the wagon.

I don't want to see you|out in the open.

Okay?

I got some sugar in that town.

It's in the wagon.

I wouldn't want to have him|coming down on me

like these cowboys.

What the hell's the matter|with you, Gus?

You're twitching all damn night.

Damn back's so sore from being|flung into that stove.

Feel like I been humped|by a 300-pound whore.

Well, Gus, I'd say|you got off easy.

Look at my face.

Well, you can bet Butler will|square things with that big man

for breaking his arm and all.

Did you hear it snap?

I heard it snap.

Lucky for him he shoots|with either hand.

One twitch, and you're in hell!

Now, get on your feet,|all of you!

Now, throw them guns|on the ground.

I ain't a-gonna say it again.

And kick them away.

Which one of you's got|a sore back?

Which one?

Him.

- You're Gus?|- Yeah.

Ought not gang up on a man|three-to-one.

Ohh!

Wait a minute, mister.

- It wasn't our idea to jump him.|- Shut up, Wylie.

Get up, you son of a b*tch.

- What's your name?|- Vince.

Mighty nice tie-down you got.|You're a gunhand, are you?

- You fast?|- No.

Uh-huh.

How many riders does he have?

I said, how many riders?

The rest are on their way|to your wagon.

Uhh! Aah!

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