The Scalphunters Page #4

You think I'm going to give up

on those people, don't you?

Well, I ain't.

You got any ideas

about what we ought to do next?

Hell, you never have no ideas

about nothing.

Hey, get outta there!

You damn jughead. That's locoweed.

You'll run around like a coyote with his

guts hanging out. Let's see your mouth.

Open it up. Come on. Open it up.

If you ate any of that stuff,

we're both done for.

You'll be crazy in the head

and I'll be walking.

How do you feel?

Well, I might as well find out.

If you throw me

I'll know you had a bellyful.

Whoa, now. Whoa. Easy.

Well, I guess you're all right.

Now, will you bend down

and pick up my rifle? I'm tired.

By Cod, you have got an idea.

Cet those other horses in here.

- Bring 'em up!

- Cet 'em all in.

Whoa. Whoa!

What the...?

Qu pasa con estos caballos?

Howie! Howie!

What the hell is wrong with them horses?

Cet 'em out of the water!

Don't look at me like that.

It was your idea.

Dirty rotten Comanche trick!

- You gonna keep those skins?

- If I have to pack 'em on your back.

You're gonna have us

crawling on our bellies.

You don't shut up, I'm gonna kick your

backside right up to your shoulder blades.

Can I say something, Mr Howie?

Wouldn't it make more sense

just to give the man his furs back?

Well, I'll be damned.

Now I've heard everything.

What in hell is this world coming to?

If you give that man his furs back,

he'll let you alone.

I know him, Mr Howie.

- You what?

- What?

I was with the Indians

when they took his furs from him.

All he wants is what's his.

Well, well, well, well.

I'm a curly-haired, blue-eyed angel.

- And you're in with him.

- No, sir.

But I know him, Mr Howie. Let me go

talk to him. Maybe he'll listen to me.

Howie, listen to him.

Just how long you think you're gonna

stay alive? Look at your men.

Well?

Is that the way you want it?

Jed?

Well, Yancy?

I just want to get to Mexico. Alive.

It makes sense.

Four men we rode with... dead.

Loco'd our horses.

And you want me to give him the furs?

I don't care!

Hell, give him everything! Co ahead.

And I hope he blows your head off.

Hey! You want to give him

my whiskey, too?

Catch more flies with honey

than with vinegar, Mr Howie.

Jim Howie's boys...

are gonna quit.

Split the guts of five

United States marshals.

Took half the banks of Kansas.

Took a whole town full of Chink miners.

And jumped more Indians

than the United States Cavalry.

And Jim Howie's boys are gonna quit.

For one man.

For one man.

Mr Bass!

Mr Bass, where are you?

Mr Bass. Speak to me.

Damn you, Joe Bass.

I wonder why I go to all this trouble.

Cetting myself abused

by that bloodthirsty Jim Howie.

And all for you and your measly furs,

you ill-mannered, unlettered oaf.

Mr Bass, speak up!

I know you're out there, sneaking around.

Who do you think you are? Daniel Boone?

What's the matter, Julius Caesar?

Cet lost again?

Mr Bass, please. You ruin a man's

mortal insides when you do that.

What are you here for?

To help them people kill me?

They don't want to kill you any more.

They want you to stop killing them.

They'll leave your furs and go.

You lying, split-tongue African Comanche.

You think I'd trust anything you say?

I'd take the word of that scalphunter

before I'd believe you.

I'm telling the truth.

They've had enough.

Don't you lie to me no more.

I'll get my furs.

And you and them people

will be for the vultures.

What you got there?

What you got there?

Cood drinking whiskey.

Mr Howie's own stock.

Thought you could maybe

use a drink about now.

You sure made your way with

those people. You got their whiskey.

You're doing their bushwhacking for 'em.

Sashaying along with that fancy woman.

Throw you in the pigpen and you'd

come out vice president of the hogs.

If Cod ever made better inventions than

a pretty woman or a bottle of whiskey,

I ain't heard of it.

Mr Bass.

Could I have a drink of that?

If I was to give you a drink of this whiskey,

it'd be like pouring it out on the sand.

Whiskey's a man's drink. And you

ain't no man. You ain't no part of a man.

You're a mealy-mouthed, shufflebutt slave

and you've picked a master.

So don't go asking

to take a drink with a man.

You think mighty well of yourself,

don't you, Joe Bass?

You know how long you would last

as a coloured man?

About one minute.

The trouble with all your fighting, Joe

Bass, is you don't know when you've won.

Co ahead. Kill us all.

Lee.

Tell 'em to move out and leave my furs.

Joseph Lee.

Come back here.

Tell 'em from here.

Mr Howie!

Move out.

That's everybody.

Don't seem right,

that man doing an honest thing.

They just want to be rid of you.

Where are you going, Julius Caesar?

With them. Where I aim to.

- To Mexico.

- Wait a minute.

Walk on down there ahead of me.

Hold it there.

Tie her up.

Co on. Scat.

This one won't scalp any more Indians.

Look out!

I busted his skull! I've done it!

The old daddy wolf, he done it. He done it.

Mr Howie.

OK.

- No.

- You killed my men,

and loco'd my horses.

And now... I gotta punish you.

I'm gonna take your hair, and peel

your pretty white hide one inch at a time.

Quit talking, you ugly bastard, and do it.

I'm going to hear you cry,

and I'm going to hear you beg.

- No, Mr Howie.

- Cet off of me.

- You don't have to kill him, Mr Howie.

- Boy, I'm gonna kill you too.

Now, my boy, you...

you put that knife down.

Cut him, Lee. Cut him!

Now, you listen to me.

Now, listen to me, my boy.

I won't lift his hair.

I won't sell you.

And I'll let you go on with me.

To Mexico.

- Now, drop that knife, boy.

- Don't listen to him.

You really don't want to kill a man.

Do you?

I mean, do you?

Now you're using your head, boy.

Lee!

Cet it, Lee!

Yowee!

Joseph Lee, you did it!

By Cod and by thunder, you did it!

I couldn't be more proud

if you was my own grandpa.

Joseph Lee, you sure deserve that drink.

Now untie me.

Ahh.

He's sure taking his own sweet time.

- You worrying about Jim Howie?

- Stick him, he bleeds like anybody else.

That may be true, only he's the one

gonna be doing all the sticking.

- Why isn't he back here by now?

- You think he'd aim at a man, then miss?

One man, no.

But there are two back there.

Joe Bass, you're looking at a rich man.

I might just hire you and your horse

to take me to Mexico.

Isn't there anything

you want to say to me?

Like "Thank you, Mr Lee"?

- Co to hell.

- Don't you mean "Co to hell, Mr Lee"?

Oh, quit acting like a damn fool.

First time you had guts enough to fight,

you puff around like a pregnant squaw.

Now untie me.

What the hell are you doing, Lee?

Damn you, Lee, that's my horse.

Cet off him.

Damn your hide, Lee. What are you up to?

Sic transit gloria mundi.

"To the victor belong the spoils. "

Now, wait a minute, Joseph Lee.

Now, just a minute.

Let's you and I palaver.

We've had some differences, but you

wouldn't leave a man alone in the desert.

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