Shane Page #4

- Let me see you shoot.|- What do you want me to shoot at?

The little white rock over there, see?

Gosh, almighty, that is good!

You see, Joey?|Now look. Remember.

When your hand comes up,|you still clear your holster.

- Shane.|- Hello, Mrs Starrett.

- I was teaching Joey a little shooting.|- I don't want...

You ought to see Shane shoot.|He's teaching me.

- Yes, I know. Get ready for the party.|- Oh, Ma!

Guns aren't going to be my boy's life.

Why do you always|have to spoil everything?

A gun is a tool,|no better or worse than any other tool,

an axe, a shovel, or anything.

A gun is as good or as bad|as the man using it. Remember that.

We'd all be better off|if there wasn't a single gun in this valley,

including yours.

What's all the shooting about?

You're starting the celebrating|a little early, aren't you?

Well, look at that woman,|in her wedding dress!

Shane, you better hitch up that team,

'cause today we're really gonna|celebrate the Fourth of July!

I'm supposed to say to the squatters,|"I'm busted but you're welcome."

- It ain't that bad.|- That's easy for you to say.

I've been your friend a long time,|I'm reasonable.

- But something's got to give.|- Out here a man can go just so far.

I've gone along with the new law.|I've stayed away from gunfighting.

Sure, I've tried to buffalo the sodbusters.

You got to admit,|my men have kept their six-guns cased.

And now?

- I can guess what's on your mind.|- Keep your guesses to yourself.

- I like Joe Starrett.|- Fool oughta listen to reason.

- Your reason?|- What's the matter with you?

No offence, Rufe.

It's your own conscience eating on you.

Conscience!

Hello, Torrey.|Something I can do you for?

- A jug. It's the Fourth.|- Come in, come in.

Jug. And a whiskey.

Here's to you, Ryker,|for running Ernie Wright off his claim.

Another.

- Is that one of them?|- Yeah.

It's a downright dirty shame.|It's all he had and he worked hard for it.

I want to tell you something, Ryker.|He's running because he's a coward.

And here's to me, 'cause I ain't a coward|and you ain't getting my claim.

They're hot-headed.

You'd get him to draw|without any trouble.

It'd be easy.

You can't scare me|any more than you can Joe Starrett.

No. It's Starrett we want.

- Three cheers for Wyoming!|- The rest of you care to join me?

Drink a toast to the greatest state|in the Union?

I'm from Wyoming.

Here's to the independence|of the sovereign state of Alabama.

There you are.

I'm through with all you Yanks.|Listen, you Yankees...!

Hello, Axel.

You're late, Reb,|we took Richmond two hours ago!

- Everybody, come here...|- Marian!

You come too,|I have something important to tell you.

- Axel...|- Ja, Mama. Now...

You all know what today is.|It's Independence Day.

Except for one man here. Yes, sir.

This was the day Joe Starrett|got himself hooked, by golly!

Well, no...

- What I'd like to say is...|- Well, say it, Joe!

- I'd like to say that Axel's right.|- What did he say, Joe?

I gave up my independence|10 years ago today.

But no man ever gave it up|as easy as I did.

And what's more, I wouldn't trade|places with any man in this world.

- Good speech!|- Go on, Joe, give her a kiss.

Come here!

Congratulations.

Pass the word to the boys,|I got some cheer for us.

Many more, Joe!

We were ready to give you up,|you and Ernie.

Ernie's getting out today.|Packed up kit and caboodle.

- Been expecting that.|- Ryker's boys bluffed him out.

- Maybe he had sense.|- What were you doing in town?

- Joe, I want to dance.|- Marian, they've fenced me out here.

- Joe don't want you in town by yourself.|- It's just Ryker and Grafton gabbing.

Grafton's OK.

Another man was there,|likely hired by Ryker.

- Who was that?|- Stranger, decked out like a gunfighter.

- Did you say "guns"?|- Yeah, two guns.

- What did he look like?|- Packs two guns, kinda lean...

He wears a black hat.

- Is he a friend of yours?|- No.

A man named Wilson looks like that,|a gunfighter.

- Jack Wilson?|- Gunfighter outta Cheyenne.

- Can't be him, can it?|- I didn't ask him his name.

- What about him?|- What's a gunman doing around here?

- Pow-wow with Ryker?|- Don't start. We don't know it's Wilson.

This Wilson, would you know him,|Shane? If you saw him?

Maybe. If it is Wilson,|he's fast on the draw, so be careful.

You seem to know a lot about|this kind of business, Shane.

That is enough. Come and eat|before things get cold.

I don't want no part of gunslinging.|Murder's a better name.

We eat now, everyone.|You fellas get the shoe game!

Torrey, I want to go to the blacksmith's,

but Joe says we shouldn't go alone.

Any time you wanna go to town,|I'll ride along with you.

I'm a soldier who's done fighting|in real battles.

I can shoot just as straight...

Shane...

- Yes, Joey?|- Think that was him?

- Who?|- That man Torrey seen in town.

Do you think that was Wilson?

- Don't worry about things like that.|- Rest, Joey. It's past your bedtime.

Yes, Mother.

- No, Joey. I'll open it.|- All right.

All right. I'll open the gate for you.

Who goes there?

Brother Rufe's come|to pay you a little visit.

Howdy, Starrett.

Evening, ma'am.

I had somethin' I wanted|to talk over with you.

Whatever business we got,|we can talk over right here.

I'll just lay it on the barrelhead, then.|How'd you like to work for me?

I work for myself.|Done enough working for others.

Wait till I tell you.

I'll pay you top wages. More than|you make on this patch of ground.

No, I'm not interested.

I haven't said it all.|You can run your cattle with mine.

What's more, I'll buy your homestead.

Set a price you think is reasonable,|you'll find me reasonable.

Is that fair?

You've made things hard for us,|and we're in the right.

Right? You in the right?

When I came to this country,|you weren't much older than your boy.

We had rough times. Me and other men|that are mostly dead now.

I got a bad shoulder yet|from a Cheyenne arrowhead.

We made this country,|we found it and we made it,

with blood and empty bellies.

Cattle we brought in were hazed off|by Indians and rustlers.

They don't bother you much any more|because we handled 'em.

We made a safe range out of this.

Some of us died doing it,|but we made it.

Then people move in who never|had to raw-hide it through the old days.

They fence off my range|and fence me off from water.

Some of them plough ditches,|take out irrigation water.

So the creek runs dry sometimes|and I gotta move my stock because of it.

And you say we have no right|to the range.

The men that did the work|and ran the risks have no rights?

I take you for a fair man, Starrett.

I'm not belittling what you did,|but you didn't find this country.

There were trappers here|and Indian traders before you.

- They tamed this country.|- They weren't ranchers.

Rights! You think you've the right|to say nobody else has got any.

That ain't the way|the Government looks at it.

I didn't come to argue.|I made you a fair proposition.

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