The Left Handed Gun Page #3

- Let you meet my girl.

You see why I work up a sweat...

...and mind my business.

Hello, Pat.

You don't wanna sit out here.

The sun eases my arm.

Yeah, I know.

But somebody not from here,

some peddler passing through...

...he'll go right back to Lincoln

and tell them you're still around.

No, ain't nobody bothers me.

Look, Billy, you gotta keep down.

I know.

I hid.

I was a kid.

I hid half my life.

You just gotta dig a

deep hole and get in.

I mean it.

Now, how come you care so

big about me, Pat Garrett?

I guess I'm just naturally

soft-hearted, Billy.

Be careful.

Hey, Pat, when's the wedding?

Sunday, a week.

You be careful.

Hey, Billy.

Soldiers.

Get out there, see what they want.

Hey, Tom, Tom, we gonna clean up.

Hey, Billy.

Hey, Celsa, come out here.

Look at this.

Amnesty.

What do you make out of it?

Sergeant says it's the general's orders.

He's the new governor of the territory.

"General Lew Wallace, governor."

Governor, I saw that.

Well, that must mean us too.

How do you figure?

Well, amnesty.

Nobody gets hung, nobody goes to jail.

We're all forgived for our sins, man.

We can stay here.

We is forgived for

shooting Brady and Morton?

It must mean us.

Boy, you believe that?

Well, it's one way to settle a fight.

Now both sides lay down their guns.

Well, that's the order.

All is forgiven, provided

you don't break the peace.

If you do, the general

will break your head.

You don't have to hide.

No hiding, no running!

We can stay here.

You can stay here. You stay here.

Yes, sir, we're gonna stay here.

- We're gonna kick up some dust.

- Now, come on, quit now.

- That's $4, boy.

- Pig's foot.

Pay the man $4.

- He bet the yellow.

- I bet the black.

- Get up the money, boy.

- Hey, Billy!

Get up the money, boy.

Look, them brass buttons

don't make you General Grant.

- Four dollars, boy.

- Four dollars, my eye!

He tried to grab off the money.

I'm gonna grab you off.

Now you gonna grab somebody, soldier?

Or you a general?

Who told you to butt

your head in here?

You wanna break up

the peace a little bit?

Well, you take the money, general.

And you hold the money up

for the general to take.

Come on, general.

Let's see some cavalry.

Put them down!

Put them down!

- Billy.

- Hey, Pat. Pat Garrett.

Hey, you see them...?

Them posters, "General

Lew Wallace, governor"?

You should have seen what we

done to one of his regiments.

We dipped them in flour and

fried them for breakfast.

You best slow down, I'm warning you.

Yeah, I can see you

slowed down some yourself.

- When is that wedding?

- That's Sunday.

You Celsa's cousin?

- That goes for me too, ma'am!

- Quiet.

- Now, she invited us to the wedding.

- We'll be there.

What about tonight? Coming

to Pete Maxwell's party?

- Party?

- Party?

- There be whiskey and women?

- All you can drink.

We're gonna get drunk!

- Boys.

- Yep?

Hey, knocking them soldiers together

sort of eased up my shoulder.

How about that, huh?

Come on, Charley.

I'll draw you, come on.

I'm stiff as a board,

I bet I beat you.

No, we're going to Maxwell's party.

No, he don't wanna grab no

gun. He wants to grab a gal.

Come on, we'll draw. You

too, Tom. Come on, let's go.

I'll bet I beat you,

and I'm stiff as a board.

One, two, three, go!

Come on.

We're gonna go fiesta.

Mr. Maxwell.

My name is Moultrie. I

come over from Lincoln.

We heard about your

generous open house.

- Drinks are in at the bar.

- Most generous.

Perhaps we can drink to the amnesty.

- Billy.

- Manuel.

Mr. Bonney, you gave me a start.

I suppose you know your name

has been prominent in the paper.

I cut out the articles.

Here. I think this

one might interest you.

Your death notice.

Let me see.

"William Bonney, outlaw youth, dead."

Well, now, how you like that?

"Billy Bonney was burned to death,

leaving no surviving relatives."

That's not necessary, Mr. Bonney.

I knew you weren't dead.

All right!

Excuse.

Knocked my feet right

out from under me.

- Know who that is?

- Who?

Name was in the Santa Fe paper.

- How come?

- Killed some men.

William Bonney's his name.

I thought he was dead.

Billy, why don't you go in and dance.

There's a little girl in there, Nina.

Wear her hair hang down like a horse.

Come on, take her out on the

porch. Her papa owns a mill.

Take her out on the porch.

There is nothing wrong

with you that a woman...

That a young girl can't fix.

Come on, Billy, let's go.

We're gonna stomp some.

Go on, her name is Nina.

Hey, Billy.

- How about one for the wedding?

- Well, well, name in the paper.

- How's the arm?

- I'm working it.

- Getting up your speed?

- Yeah, I'm getting it.

Joe used to wear his gun tied down.

Remember back in Laredo, Joe?

Yeah, we knew what a fast gun was.

That was a hundred years ago.

Boy, you must be hot grease.

He's fast, Joe.

Yeah, I know. Got

his name in the paper.

Joe works for the government now.

Goes through the country to

see how the amnesty holds.

- Amnesty?

- That's right.

You say you turn in a report to

the governor, is that right, Joe?

- We keep our eye on the

hot-grease boys. - Yeah.

Are you a law officer?

I carry papers.

Like to shoot?

When I have to.

Pearl inlay.

That must have cost you.

That gun was made in Chicago.

Chicago-made.

Could I see it?

Gee, I'd sure like to

see your gun, mister.

United States eagle.

"J.G."?

Joe Grant.

Why, it lays right back of your thumb.

Does that notch...? Does

that stand for a man?

That's what it stands for.

You had to put that in

there so you'd remember?

That's right.

Was he asleep when you shot him?

I'm just fooling, Joe Grant.

Come on, let's get

back to our drinking.

Where's Tom?

My friend asked you to have a drink.

- I'll see you, Pat.

- Sure.

Asked you to have a drink.

Gonna have it or not?

Come on, Joe, settle down.

See you.

You so fast?

Why don't you shut

your big amnesty mouth.

- Hey, boy!

- Billy!

Oh, you had to try.

You had to show what a

fast son of a buck you are!

How come it didn't fire, Grant?

Pearl inlays, Chicago-made, amnesty.

Maybe I got my speed, maybe I

don't, but I got you, Joe Grant.

I got you dead, you big mouth!

You wanna try again, huh?

How many cartridges I

take out? One or two?

- Billy.

- Go ahead.

Come on, pull it off, Joe Grant.

It'll fire or go click.

Come on, squeeze it off.

Joe. Drop it, Joe.

He'll kill you.

Billy, let him go.

I'm asking you now, let him go.

I'm asking you as a friend.

You say your thanks...

...to Pat Garrett.

You're smart, Joe.

You're smart as a whip.

You drive your luck

right in the ground.

I want you to get out of here.

I'll split your sleeves off!

You don't know, Joe.

You came that close.

That kid could drop you. Five

shots up and down your buttons.

He kills you, he kills the

amnesty. But you are smart.

Now, get your horse

and get out of here.

One shot.

One 10-cent bullet, and that's it.

Amnesty.

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