Open Range Page #3

You want to smile now, go ahead.

Be a while before he's of use.

Charley, throw me|them saddlebags.

Put your spook hats on.

The ones in your belt,|put them on.

Now get your britches off.

Not taking my britches off|for nobody.

You listen out|of your good ear now.

Now, get them off!

Pretty scary bunch, eh, Charley?

Get belly-down, flat-out!

Uhh!

Get your peckers in the dirt.

- Hyah! Hah!

Hah!

If I hear so much|as a twig break...

I'll come back|and kill you all.

Charley.

Charley!

No Tig come to meet us.

Ooh.|The bastards.

They shot the boy,|but he's alive.

Is that Mose?

He's dead.

Shot him in the head.

Charley?

Charley?

Charley, get the lantern|and the whiskey.

Yeah.

Come on, wake up.

Charley.

They shot him here and|cracked him in the head here.

We'll have to dig|that bullet out.

You done good, Boss.

Him going in and out like that.

I don't know.|He lost a lot of blood.

A whack on the head|can make a man strange

for the rest of his days.

Well, you done all you can.

He needs a doctor now.

If Button lives through morning,

you take him in the wagon|and move on.

You just gonna sit out here|waiting with them cows?

That's right.

And I'm gonna kill|every son of a b*tch

that comes to take them.

For one man on open ground,

you sure got a lot|of killing in mind.

You know I never|gone against you, Boss.

Always let you do|most of the talking.

But he needs that doctor|back in that town,

and I aim to take him.

If you want to come,|we'll go together.

Otherwise, you do what you|have to do, I'll do the same.

You think they'll let you waltz|in there and waltz out?

I don't figure into it.

Button deserves every chance|we can give him.

All right.

But I aim to kill Baxter|and those that done this.

And if that marshal gets in the|way, I'm gonna kill him, too.

So you best get your mind right|about what's got to be done.

I got no problem|with killing, Boss.

Never have.

Looks real nice, Charley.

Yeah, a man ought to have|something to show he was here.

Be gone in another big storm.

Don't matter none.|He's got your dog for company.

He'd like it you put|old Tig with him.

Yeah, he was more|Mose's dog in the end

than he was mine.

Be right to say some words.

You want to speak|with the man upstairs, do it.

I'll stand right here|and listen,

but I ain't talking|to that son of a b*tch.

And I'll be holding a grudge

for him letting this befall|a sweet kid like Mose.

Well, he sure as hell|wasn't one to complain.

Woke with a smile.

Seemed like he could keep it|there all day.

Kind of man that'd say|"good morning" and mean it,

whether it was or not.

To tell you the truth, Lord,|if there was two gentler souls,

I never seen them.

Seemed like old Tig wouldn't|even kill birds in the end.

Well, you got yourself|a good man and a good dog,

and I'm inclined to agree|with Boss

about holding a grudge|against you for it.

I guess that means "amen. "

God.

Charley, you all right?

I'm fine.

Seems like you was, you know...

I said I'm fine.

Just got some old feelings|coming up.

You know, we never asked|each other much.

That's always been okay with me.|I figured it was okay with you.

But you said some things|the last couple of days.

Things that seemed like they had|kind of a history to them.

Hey, Charley?

Don't stand behind me, Boss.

When I was a kid, a bunch of us|would go into the woods

with our peashooters.

Nothing fancy, just enough|to kill a bird or a squirrel,

maybe something larger|if we was lucky.

Killed my first man|in them woods.

Held the paper on our farm,|and after my pa died,

he'd come around to get payment|from my mom in any way he could.

Weren't much older than Button|when I shot him in the throat.

Knew there'd be more killing, so|I run off and joined the Army.

War was on.

They was only too happy|to have me.

My first skirmish was like|hunting with my friends.

We just sat up in some trees,|and they came marching at us.

Must have been a hundred of them|dead after the smoke cleared.

Went around and shot the rest|who weren't.

Those of us with the knack|was made into a special squad

so we could travel light|and on our own

into enemy territory.

Orders were pretty simple.|Make trouble wherever we could.

With room like that, it wasn't|long before we was killing men

that weren't even in uniform.

Seemed like that went on|the rest of the war.

After that, I come West.

Lot of call for a man|with them skills.

And I put them to work|for men just like Baxter.

Every once in a while,|I almost get through a day

without thinking|about who I am, what I'd done.

He drifted off again.

No better, but no worse, either.

You're a real honest man,|Charley.

Well, I ain't gonna lie|about Button.

Not Button I'm talking about.

- Mr. Spearman.|- The doctor in?

No, he's not here.

We got a boy that's hurt bad.

Here, put him|in the examining room.

It's not his hearing, ma'am.

He hears real well|when he's awake.

Mr. Spearman, I'm checking|if there's blood in his ears.

It could mean a fractured skull.

Are you the boy's father?

No, ma'am.

His name's Button,|and he works for me.

It appears that's|not very healthy.

You know the way to the parlor.|Sit down.

I'll be a while.

Well, I don't think|it's a fracture.

Concussion's more likely,|but it's bad.

I have to admit, we don't see|a lot of people shot.

I cleaned and dressed the wound.|Doesn't look infected.

What about the fever?

He needs to lay still|and let his body do its work.

No offense, ma'am,|but we come a long way

to see that the boy gets looked|after proper by Dr. Barlow.

Now, where's he at?

One of Dent Baxter's hands

came and fetched him|out to the ranch.

Some men there had an accident|night before last.

You must tell me what happened,|Mr. Spearman.

Baxter sent his men|to stampede the herd,

and I figured me and Charley|to stop them.

Surprised them where they was|hiding, and we had at them.

Them's the one Dr. Barlow's|putting back together.

We got back to camp, others|had shot Mose in the head,

shot Button, left him for dead.

Oh.

Shot our dog.

I'll be getting money.

It's not necessary.

We pay our way, ma'am.

Please, sit, Mr. Waite.

Button.|Is that his real name?

Please, sit.

Yeah, it's the only one|we've known.

He's just a boy.

Yeah.

Picked him up in a Texas town|a few years back,

living off caf garbage.

Couldn't speak a word|of English.

Thought we was doing him|a favor.

What about you?

Hmm?

You know that the marshal|works for Baxter.

People saw you ride in.

There's payment to be made|by them that done this.

Don't intend to run.

We could wire|for the federal marshal.

If he started riding today,|he wouldn't make it for a week.

With the storm coming,|maybe longer.

We're obliged to deal with the|marshal and Baxter ourselves.

What about Button?

Well, he's fighting|for his life.

We're gonna do the same.

Whatever's needed for Button,|you do it.

If he wakes, he's gonna need|to stay here a couple days

so we can watch him.

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