The Proposition

1

Far, far away

Where saints in glory stand

Bright, bright as day

Oh, how they sweetly sing

Worthy is our Saviour King

Loud let His praises ring

Praise, praise for aye

Come to that happy land

Come, come away

Why will you doubting stand?

Why still delay?

Oh, we shall happy be

When from sin and sorrow free

Lord, we shall live with Thee

Blest, blest for aye

Bright, in that happy land

Beams every eye

Kept by a Father's hand

Love cannot die

Oh, then to glory run

Be a crown and kingdom won

And, bright, above the sun

We reign for aye.

Where's my gun? F***in' hell.

F***. F***in' bastards. F***in'...

Come on, you f***...

Mikey, get down. Christ!

Mikey!

Arggh!

I'm hit, Charlie. I'm hit.

You'll be alright, Mikey. Hold strong.

You'll never take me alive,

you bastards.

Do I need to introduce myself?

I know who you are.

Good.

I know who you are.

My brother's taken a bullet, Stanley,

and is in need of medical attention.

Well, allow me to address

the subject of your brother, Mr Burns.

Christmas, as you're probably aware,

is fast approaching.

And Christmas this year

will hold a unique significance

for young Micky here.

Mikey.

Because on Christmas Day,

I have made plans

that he be taken from the jail in Banyon

and hanged by the neck until he is dead.

Charlie.

You're a copper, Stanley,

not a judge and jury.

Well, clearly, Mr Burns,

I am what I wish to be.

So what is it that you want?

I want Arthur Burns.

I no longer ride with my brother.

Now, I will allow you

a moment to think about it.

What's happening, Charlie?

It's alright, Mikey.

It's alright.

Australia.

What fresh hell is this?

I have kept company

with bad men all my life.

I was 22 years

in Her Majesty's land forces.

I've dealt with your type many times.

Touch my brother again and I'll kill you.

Make no mistakes, Mr Burns.

It will be done. I will civilise this place.

What the f***

are you talking about, Stanley?

Listen to me now, Charlie.

Don't speak.

Hush, Mikey. You'll be fine.

Hush.

I wish to present you with a proposition.

I know where Arthur Burns is.

It is a godforsaken place.

The blacks won't go there,

nor the trackers.

Not even my own men.

I suppose, in time,

the bounty hunters will get him.

But I have other plans.

I aim to bring him down.

I aim to show

that he is a man like any other.

I aim to hurt him.

When you're ready, sir.

And what will most hurt him?

Well, I've thought

long and hard about that.

And I have realised, Mr Burns,

that I must become

a little more inventive in my methods.

Now, don't speak, Mr Burns.

Listen to me now.

Don't say a word.

Now, suppose I told you there was a way

to save your little brother

Mikey from the noose.

Suppose I gave you a horse... and a gun.

Suppose, Mr Burns,

I was to give both you

and your young brother, Mikey, here,

a pardon.

Suppose I said that I could give you

the chance to expunge the guilt...

beneath which you so clearly labour.

Suppose I gave you till Christmas.

Now, suppose you tell me

what it is I want from you.

You want me to kill my brother.

I want you to kill your brother.

Arthur Burns is a monster.

An abomination.

La, la, la.

You were right

to part company with him

and to take Mikey with you.

What happened at the Hopkins place

was unforgivable.

La, la, la.

I have never seen

such a sickening sight.

Did you know that

that poor woman, Eliza Hopkins,

had a child in her belly?

Your business

with your brother is unfinished.

You have nine days, Mr Burns.

Bring the horses round.

- Coming now.

- Come on. Get that on now.

It's the f***ing Burns boy.

Come on. Let's hit 'em.

Got 'em.

I f***ing got him!

Pigs.

Who have you got?

Troopers... dismount!

The man I have brought in...

is Mike Burns...

of the Burns gang.

That's one down and two to go,

gentlemen.

You've got to

get the other ones now.

I will... civilise this land.

Make yourself at home, Mikey.

Good evening to you, Mrs Stanley.

Good evening, Mr Broussard.

He's not so f***in'

dangerous now, is he?

Martha?

Good evening, gentlemen.

Evening, Mrs Stanley.

You should... really not come here.

Cannot a lady visit her husband

in his place of work?

You men...

you wait outside.

We spoke about

why you shouldn't come here.

This is not appropriate...

Morris, you've been gone for three days.

It's lonely up there at the house.

It's so quiet without you.

Are you coming home now?

Well, I have things to attend to.

I'll have Officer Dunn escort you home.

I'll be back soon.

You look terrible, Morris.

Yes.

Yes, I do.

Dunn.

Who is that?

But he's no more than a boy.

He's man enough, ma'am.

He's man enough, indeed.

Enough.

Escort Mrs Stanley home

and wait there till I return.

How long will you be, dear?

Later.

Never speak to my wife

about such things again.

Do you understand?

My apologies, Captain.

What happened today on the flats,

that's between you and me.

Of course, sir.

Because there would be consequences

were it to become common knowledge.

Yes.

Eliza Hopkins

was a good Christian woman,

and she was my friend.

I pray to God that her death

was mercifully swift.

It was, wasn't it?

Martha, can we speak of other things?

Come here, Captain Stanley.

My poor husband.

The world you live in in there.

Don't be gloomy, dear.

This burden you carry...

you might let me carry it too.

I believe in you.

Stay down. Stay in bed.

What in God's name...?

Christ, sir...

I've shot my bloody toes off.

There's nothing to see here, Martha.

Go back to bed.

Officer Dunn has shot his t...

Martha, go back inside.

"When?" said the moon

to the stars in the sky

"Soon," said the wind

that followed him home

"Who?" said the cloud

that started to cry

"Me," said the rider, as dry as a bone

"How?" said the sun

that melted the ground

"Why?" said the river

that refused to run

"Where?" said the thunder

without a sound

"Here," said the rider,

and took up his gun.

Bloody flies.

Kill one and a dozen more

turn up to his funeral.

Oh, Danny Boy

The flies, the flies are crawl...

Oh, a thousand pardons, my dear man.

It appears that I am a little scuppered.

Oh, no need for that, sir.

No need for that.

We are white men, you and I.

Permit me to introduce myself.

My name is Jellon Lamb.

Citizen of the world, you might say.

An adventurer.

And, if I may be so bold,

a man of no little education.

And you, sir?

By what name

am I honoured to address thee?

Of course, a... mere detail.

Mere detail.

Forgive me, sir, but I've been stuck here

with no-one but this sorry sack

of Hibernian pig sh*t for conversation.

Poor, poor Dan O'Reilly.

Sit, sir. Drink with me.

One more crack about the Irish,

Mr Lamb, and I'll shoot you.

Am I clear?

Oh, as the waters of Ennis, sir.

Let us drink, then, to the Irish.

No finer race of men

have ever... peeled a potato.

Do you pray, Mr Lamb?

Good Lord, son.

No, I do not.

I was, in days gone by, a believer.

But, alas, I came

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