The Revengers Page #4

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for more than two minutes

with them empty crates.

I don't aim to fool them

for more than two minutes.

Damn,

this ain't going to be no pea pick.

When the shooting starts, Job...

Cholo, Zweig,

you stay with Mr. Quiberon.

Mr. Quiberon, get the Comanches.

Get all of them.

Chamaco,

you and l'll give them cover...

then we'll hit the adobes.

- Right.

Don't shoot.

- Shut up!

Can you tell which one is Tarp?

That's him. There, by the wall.

Talk to him.

- Well...

Tarp, it's me, old Bill Hoop.

You remember me, don't you?

Old Bill Hoop!

Yeah, I remember you.

I can smell you up here.

What do you want?

Tell him we've come

to trade for horses.

We come to trade for horses.

All you got!

We got guns, ammunition, and whiskey.

We got Winchesters, and ammunition...

and some damn good red-eye whiskey.

Ask the Indians. They had some.

Come on in. We'll take a look at you.

Baldy, do what I told you.

That's whiskey, all right.

Well, howdy there, Baldy.

I was just telling

these fellows here...

it'll sure be great to see

my old friend Baldy again.

How you been, Baldy?

Just open them mule packs,

you windy old bastard.

Help yourself.

Cover me.

Top, there. Cover him.

Get back in there!

Hey, Frenchman.

Two more here, seor Benedict.

Come on, boy, come on.

Here you are, Mr. Benedict.

That's a hound dog shame, yes, sir.

That one-eyed rooster got away

cleaner than a fart in a high wind.

Well,

you men did what I asked you to do.

For that I thank you.

Where you go?

He's alone now.

The odds are a little different.

l'm going to get him.

I ain't got no place to go.

I think l'll go with Mr. Benedict.

None of your damn business.

l'm coming, my friend.

That Quibby's a card, l'll tell you.

Come up holding a woman if

he fell ass over sheep dip.

Hey, greaser,

what are you going to do now?

Start your own revolution?

In the words of El Chamaco,

'lt's none of your damn business.'

None of my damn business.

You got worms in your head,

all of you.

Following that danged fool Benedict.

All of you.

Hey, Quibby.

Hey, you wait for your good

old friend Bill Hoop, now.

Now, just a minute now. Whoa, boy.

Whoa, boy, whoa.

Man could get lonesome around these

parts by himself. Come on, boy.

Come on.

Hey, now wait a minute, you fellas.

Wait for old Bill!

Five lousy months looking

for a one-eyed Indian lover.

When the hell do we give up?

I don't mind, as long as we

look for Tarp in a whorehouse.

But l'm getting very lonely,

Mr. Benedict.

Why, hell, we ain't stole

enough money this winter...

to keep a man in whiskey.

They swore if we ever came back

into Pemiscot, they'd kill us all.

We are making one big mistake.

Pemiscot is a trap for us.

Hell, they've forgotten by now,

you dunce. That was over a year ago.

One year or two years.

They said no matter how long it was...

they'd never forget,

and they'd be waiting.

We'll have to fight the whole town,

my friend.

What are they, rawhiders?

Indian fighters, and about

anything else that wants to fight.

Move it!

Last time they come through here,

they crippled up Caleb's son.

There's going to be trouble,

Whit, real trouble.

Salud.

Here's to you, Mister...

Hello, John.

I know it's been a while...

but not so long as you

wouldn't remember me.

I saw you ride in.

Whit.

I was over to the jail.

I'm here to pick up a prisoner

to take back up north.

I'm a Deputy U.S. Marshal now.

lt's a mean-looking bunch

you've got with you.

John.

Are you still chasing

that Comanchero?

Still chasing him.

I got a lot of friends

back in Colorado...

that'd like to see you riding off.

Chamaco!

Aren't you gonna help

those wounded men?

l'll buy you a drink, Whit.

No.

I don't drink with strangers.

I don't know you.

If your family could see you now,

they wouldn't know you, either.

Christ, if your boy Morgan could

see you now, he'd run from you.

That's what l'm going to do.

Hot damn, we sure cleaned up that

bunch, didn't we, Mr. Benedict?

You couldn't hit a moose in the

ass if he was sitting on your chin.

I need a woman. What do you

think of that, Mr. Benedict?

When I shoot the gun,

I get hot down here. I need a woman.

Where you go, Mr. Benedict?

Where you go?

Open up in there.

Open up.

What do you want? Whiskey.

That'll be a dollar, mister.

The rest of you dry misers come

in here to take up the room?

Shut up, you idiot.

Go back to bed.

Are those pictures of your family?

You know,

I never had a picture of my mother.

Mr. Benedict?

Mr. Benedict?

You remember,

I asked you once about Villa Acua?

If you'd ever been there,

and you said maybe you was.

I was born in Villa Acua.

My mother's name is Secundina Ortiz.

Maybe you just don't

remember her name.

Maybe l'm your son, Mr. Benedict.

l'm like you.

I don't mean we look alike...

except maybe we both got blue eyes.

But you and me, we are alike.

We ain't afraid of nothing.

l'll stay with you, Mr. Benedict.

I won't ever leave you, Mr. Benedict.

I know l'm your son.

Don't ever call yourself my son.

Not ever.

This was my son.

But I could be, maybe...

Never.

Now, get the hell away from me,

you bastard.

Mr. Benedict!

Hot dang.

Right through the heart.

That Chamaco's a shooter.

I followed this man

without asking why...

and now I ask myself...

and I have no answer.

goodbye.

If you rob him...

l'll kill you.

Take care of Mr. Benedict...

and proper, please.

Papa, he ain't dead.

Go hitch up the wagon.

So, you've come alive, have you?

No. Now, don't try to talk.

l'll tell you all you

need to know for now.

My name is Elizabeth Reilly.

They call me Nurse Reilly.

There's no doctor here.

You took a bullet.

One inch from your heart and

went through your subscapularis.

What does that mean?

Subscapularis is a deep muscle under

your armpit near to your heart.

Will I be able to use it again?

In time, but you won't be

lifting that arm for a while.

And the station keeper,

he brought these photographs.

He thought they might belong to you.

Do they?

Are they your family?

Well, if you'll tell me where

to post a letter to them...

l'll notify them of your illness.

- No.

I find that peculiar, Mr. Benedict.

Don't let it worry you, ma'am.

I shan't let it worry me.

I learnt a long time ago never to worry

about the foolishness of other people.

You go back to sleep now.

And what are you doing out of bed?

I was looking for...

the back door.

Why, might I ask?

Well, that's generally where the...

All right, Mr. Benedict.

If you're going to prowl

around against my advice...

then you can sop up your own blood...

when that wound in your

chest starts to haemorrhage.

I was looking at your handgun.

The trigger's tight.

Back.

And the holster smells of hog grease.

Are you a gunfighter?

l'm a rancher.

You are, are you?

Well,

l'd sure like to see your ranch.

When you're finished...

you can put the pan on

the floor beside you...

but don't get out of the bed again.

You know, I expect l'll be rid

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