Pat Garrett & Billy The Kid

.1973 Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid

Thought I told you not to run|them sheep on my land!

It's my land, Garrett.

It became mine when|we signed that lease.

He's right, Mr. Garrett.

I'm paying you off when we get back,|and I'm breaking that goddamn lease.

- I don't allow the law would agree to that.|- What law is that?

Santa Fe Ring law?

Sh*t.

- Goddamn law is ruining the country.|- Ain't you still a part of that law?

Something wrong with that harness.

I believe they elected you and paid you|good wages for killing the Kid, huh?

You rotten son of a b*tch.

- You try your luck, Eno.|- You miss more than anybody else does.

I'll bet on it.

You want the breast or the thigh?

What he always gets.

I want a breast and a thigh.

Jesus Christ!

- Who is it?|- Get down!

Goddamn, that's Garrett.

Hello, Bill.

- It's fair shooting for an old married man.|- Lucky, I guess. How are you, Kid?

- Good to see you.|- Good seeing you.

- Hey, Billy!|- Who's this you got with you?

- Looking good.|- Having some kind of fiesta? Hello, Black.

We always live like this.|You ought to visit us more often.

I reckon the whole damn territory's|gonna be one big open jug for us now.

- Is that right, Pat?|- Ain't that right, Pat?

Take a two-day ride from Lincoln just to pay|me back the 2 dollars you owe me, Pat?

You'd better collect it now, Black.

We ain't gonna be seeing much|of Pat these days.

Say, I understand those Mexican seoritas|are still pretty as ever down there.

Yeah?

I know one's waiting on you, hoss,|with a knife.

- Remember them sisters?|- No. Which ones were they?

That one you got up and asked|how much you owed.

And she said,|"Whatever you think it's worth."

You threw a dime on her pillow.

Glrl said, " If that's all it's worth,|I might as well sew it up."

Son of a b*tch.|Come on, I'll buy you a drink.

You don't figure he's too good|to drink with us, do you?

Maybe it's the other way around.

Jesus, don't you get stale|around here, Bill?

Maybe a year or so down in Mexico|will do you some good.

I didn't figure you'd bother|to make a ride out here.

Sh*t, you know me better than that.

You heard about Eben?

He drowned in the Rio Grande.

Trying to get to that old Mex|you're talking about.

He took two of the posse with him.

I'm sorry to hear that.

I always liked old Eben.

At least he knew when it was|the right time to leave.

We did have some times, didn't we?

It's gotta be pretty hard|to turn your back on all that.

You want it straight?

If that's what you're here for.

The electorate...

...wants you gone.

Out of the country.

But are they telling me,|or are they asking me?

I'm asking you.

But in five days, I'm making you.

Because I might take over sheriff|of Lincoln County.

Old Pat.

Sheriff Pat Garrett.

Sold out to the Santa Fe Rlng.

How does it feel?

It...

...feels like times have changed.

Tlmes maybe.

Not me.

Hey, why don't you stick around.

We got a few days left, ain't we?

No, I gotta get back.

Adis, Pat.

Adis, Bill.

Don't press your luck.

I ain't worried about my luck.

Why don't you kill him.

Why?

He's my friend.

Get on up, Billy.|You hear what I'm saying?

I ain't making no money|watching you boys sleep.

You like to waste the best part|of the damn day.

Let that squirrel loose!|You'll shake it to death.

- I'm just scratching.|- Chisum's cattle is waiting.

Oh, let them wait.

I hate a son of a b*tch that gets up|noisy and full of himself.

I ain't in this for my health, hateful.

That's awful.

- Pat ain't gonna like this.|- What?

Coming down hard on him|the day after he got his new badge.

Hell, there ain't no way|he's gonna know.

I ain't afraid of Pat Garrett.

Well, all right, a little bit.

Bastards.

I'd best go get them horses watered.

Goddamn Chisum.

How'd he know we was here?

- Hell, that's Garrett.|- Goddamn him too.

Now he's got Bell and half the town|of Lincoln out there with him.

Hold your fire!

Hold your fire!

Hold it!

Bill!

Come on out!|You don't have a chance!

What are you taking me in for?

Which one was that?

Buckshot Roberts.

For the killing of Buckshot Roberts!

Hell, that was a year ago.

I shot him straight up.

Come on in, Pat!

I'll warm your breakfast!

Guess he ate.

They're closing down|the store on us for sure.

Why not?

Maybe it's time you took a walk.

Hell, yes.

Why not?

I can still hold a gun.

We gotta move. I'm going fast.

Kid.

I'm going now, so, by God,|let's get on with it.

Hey.

I ain't afraid of him now.

Hold your fire! We're coming out!

Hold it!

- You go left. I'll go right.|- Mlght be they ain't circled us.

Might be the dog would've caught|the rabbit if he hadn't thought to sh*t.

Where are the goddamn horses?

- That's enough!|- Hold it! Hold it!

All right, Kid!

Come on out if you're still alive!

Game's over!

Coming out, Pat!

You're in poor company, Pat.

Yeah, I'm alive, though.

So am I.

I never figured to hear you brag|on being a working man.

Well, I never figured you|for the law either.

It's just a way of staying alive.

No matter what side you're on,|you're always right.

And I aim to live to be rich,|old and gray.

That's a fine ambition, Pat.

You keep thinking like that.|I'll think on how I'll spend your money.

Only thing you've got|to think about...

...Is when you stand before|the highest court there is.

May it sit in judgment|on your rotten soul.

Now, you listen. Listen to me good.

Before that rope snaps,|It'll hit you like a bolt of lightning...

...that what I've been telling you|Is the truth!

You'll learn to believe|before I'm finished.

That's 3 to you.

What do you believe in, Bell?

I do believe I'm gonna|have to see that bet...

...and raise you 5.|- Billy...

...somewhere in the Good Book,|it says there's a time for everything.

A time to love, a time to hate...

...a time to kill.

But now it's time|you got close to God, boy.

I heard God's fast...

...but I have to go up in front of him|myself before I'd bet on it.

You will.

Well, that puts me on my way.

I got to go collect a few more taxes.|He's all yours.

Two days, boys.

I count eight days till dawn, Billy.

You'd best be on your knees and making|the acquaintance of your Lord and master.

Pat, keep that mule's a**hole away from me|before I have to break him.

I surely wish you'd try, son.

I got my shotgun full of 16 thin dimes.

Enough to spread you out|like a crazy woman's quilt.

- Bob.|- Why don't you sing a song of Jesus...

...while there's still a way.|- Bob. Bob.

Damn it.

You mess around with him one more time,|I'll send your ass back to Texas.

Don't.

I think I'd like to keep him here a while.

I fold, Billy.

Folding three queens, now, are you?

You must be afraid|I'll go out a loser, Bell.

- I guess I just ain't seeing them.|- Well, I'll tell you what...

...as long as I'm breathing,|let's play it straight.

I ain't sold my saddle like you|and the rest of the town boys, Bell.

Or it's just Bob that smells|like street sh*t over there.

On your knees!

Kiss my ass.

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