The Shootist
- PG
- Year:
- 1976
- 100 min
- 1,716 Views
His name was J.B. Books,
and he had
a matched pair of. 45s
that were something
to behold...
but he wasn't
an outlaw.
Fact is,
for a while,
he was a lawman.
Long before I met Mr. Books,
he was a famous man.
I guess his fame was
why somebody or other
The wild country
had taught him to survive.
Hyah!
He lived his life
and herded by himself.
He had a credo
that went...
I won't be
wronged. I won't be insulted.
I won't be
laid a hand on.
I don't do these things
to other people.
I require
the same from them.
You hold it right there.
Give me your wallet.
Take it a little easy
with that cannon, mister.
Just throw me
your wallet.
Yes, sir,
and a little
something extra.
You done murdered me.
No, but you're
going to have
a long winter bellyache,
you boob.
Give me that wallet.
Just the wallet.
I can hardly move.
You done shot a hole
in my stomach.
I appreciate that.
You ain't going
to leave me here.
Well, it's quite obvious
that's what you were
going to do to me.
Get out of the way.
Mister, you better find
yourself another line of work.
This one sure don't
fit your pistol.
Hey, mister,
want a paper?
Yeah, I will, son.
Queen Victoria's dead.
There you are.
Thank you.
Whoa.
Hey!
Hey, you!
Hey, Methuselah,
move that cack
out of the way.
Are you
talking to me?
Yeah, you dumb bastard.
Move it, or I'll
deliver you something
to remember me by.
Well, now, pardon me
all to hell.
Giddyup!
Buster.
Whoa.
Try it.
Come on, Jay, the old man
ain't worth the bullet.
He looks
all tuckered out.
Giddyup.
You're right there, son.
Doc Hostetler.
John Bernard Books.
You remembered.
The newspapers
occasionally remind me.
Wh-What was it,
15 years ago?
The only time
I was ever hit...
Right here
at the Acme Saloon.
You killed two men.
I'm damn lucky
you were around.
That second one
nearly did me in,
coming out of nowhere
like that.
You must have the
constitution of an ox.
Well, we'll see.
That's what
I'm here for.
Oh?
About 10 days ago
in Creede, Colorado,
I hadn't been feeling
up to snuff,
so I went to see
a sawbones there.
He, uh...
Well, the next day
I got on my horse
and took off
to find you.
And what did my
colleague in Creede say?
Examine me,
and I'll tell you.
You don't trust me.
Oh, Doc,
you saved my life.
You don't trust
my profession.
In my profession,
you trust too much,
you don't celebrate
many birthdays.
I kind of like it
around here.
All right,
I'll examine you.
Take your clothes off
down to your long johns.
Now, I, uh...
if I'm to know
what to look for,
you'll have to tell me
what's ailing you.
Well, I hurt, Doc,
way down deep
in my back.
Not all the time,
but now and then
suddenly.
Pain in the lumbar
vertebrae?
Like sin.
All right, whenever
you get ready,
just... bend over
the table there,
trapdoor down.
Well?
Books, every few days
I have to tell a man
or a woman
something
I don't want to.
I've been practicing
medicine for 29 years,
and I still don't know
how to do it well.
Why don't you just
say it flat out?
All right.
You have a cancer...
advanced.
Is that what that fella
up at Creede told you?
Yeah.
And you didn't
believe him.
No.
Do you believe me?
Can't you
cut it out, Doc?
I'd have to gut you
like a fish.
Well, what can you do?
There's...
just, uh...
very little
I can do.
Uh, if... when
the pain gets too bad,
I can give you
something.
What you're trying
to tell me
is that I...
Yeah.
Damn.
I'm sorry, Books.
You told me I was
strong as an ox.
Well, even an ox dies.
How much time
do I have?
Two months...
six weeks... less.
There's no way
to tell.
Well, what can I...
What will I
be able to do?
Oh, anything
you want at first.
Then, later on,
you won't want to.
How much later?
You'll know when.
You'll have to
get off your feet
and get some rest.
Have you made any kind of
arrangements for a room?
No. I just
got in town.
You might try
the widow Rogers.
She's got a place down
the street a fair piece.
She takes in lodgers.
She's a nice woman.
She needs the help.
I'll give it a try.
Do me a favor.
Don't tell anybody
I'm in town.
Oh, no, but if I wanted
to go unnoticed,
I don't think I'd walk
around with this thing.
Stole it from
a whorehouse in Creede.
Did you?
Hello.
This the Rogers place?
Yeah.
Ma!
You can tell
your mother
that a tuckered-out
old man needs a room.
Good afternoon, sir.
Afternoon.
Doc Hostetler says you
might be able to help me.
How kind of him.
Yes, sir, I have
one room available.
Good.
Downstairs
in the rear.
$8.00 by the week.
$2.00 per day if
you're not permanent.
Well, I'm not
permanent, ma'am.
Oh, boy, get my gear and
the saddlebags off that horse
and bring them
into the house.
Gillom will be happy
to do that.
The parlor
is yours to use
and the telephone.
My other lodgers
have rooms upstairs.
Two railroad men
and a schoolteacher.
I'll introduce them
at supper.
My kitchen.
And the bathroom.
I thought
that's what it was.
We do have
running water,
also in the washbowl
in here.
Nice-looking brass bed.
I hope it hasn't
got any, uh...
It isn't ticky, is it?
It certainly is not.
This is very comfortable.
I'll take my meals
right here.
I serve
in the dining room.
I'll pay you extra.
Very well, since
you're not permanent.
This suit's got a lot
of countryside on it.
I'd like to have it
brushed before morning.
I'll take
those saddlebags.
That bedroll you can
leave outside.
I have my things
wrapped in it.
They'll need
soap and water.
Have you a barn?
No, we don't.
Boy, take my horse over...
My name's Gillom.
It's not "boy. "
It's Gillom Rogers,
and I don't like
being ordered around.
Well, that's fair enough,
Gillom Rogers.
Would you be so kind
as to take Old Dollar
over to
the livery stable
and see that he gets
O.K.
You seem to be a man
accustomed
to giving orders.
I guess it is
a bad habit of mine.
I didn't
get your name.
I didn't give it.
Is it so important?
my roof, it is.
Well, all right.
It's, uh... Hickok,
William Hickok.
Where do you hail from,
Mr. Hickok?
Abilene, Kansas.
And what
do you do there?
I'm a U.S. Marshal.
Oh, that's nice.
No, it isn't.
I'm glad you're not
staying long, Mr. Hickok.
I'm not sure
I like you.
Not many do,
Mrs. Rogers.
Moses, where did you hide
the whiskey this time?
Third drawer from
the left, Gilly boy.
Gilly, fetch me
my spectacles.
What the hell
are you doing?
You watch
your language, boy.
J.B. Books is
in my house.
Hey.
My name is Books.
Y'all get that?
Bang!
Boom!
He's in my house.
Ma!
Ma, I got to
tell you something.
Shh. Close the door.
What's happened?
Who do you think...
Oh, Gillom, you've
been drinking again.
Do you know
who he is?
William Hickok...
United States Marshal
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"The Shootist" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 5 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_shootist_18038>.
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