The Shootist Page #3

What's that?

They call that laudanum,

a solution of opium

and alcohol.

Opium, that can

get to be a habit.

Why, absolutely,

an addiction.

How does it taste?

Just... just awful,

terrible,

but it's the most potent

painkiller we've got.

How much of it

do I take?

Well, as much as you need

when you need it.

I think a spoonful

would be all right

to start with.

Later?

I don't know,

but I... I

think one morning

you're just going

to wake up and say,

"Here I am in this bed,

and here I'm going to stay. "

Hostetler,

I want to know.

Well, unless you insist,

I'd rather not talk

about it.

Well, I want to know.

All right.

There'll be an increase

in the severity

of the pain

in your lower spine,

your hips, your groin.

You...

Do you... Do you

want me to go on?

The pain will

become unbearable.

Uh, no drug

will moderate it.

If you're lucky,

you'll lose consciousness,

and until then,

you'll scream.

L- I... I'm sorry.

L... I didn't mean

to be specific like this.

The next time,

I'll go to Mrs. Rogers.

You... You...

You just telephone.

You just telephone.

There... There's

one more thing I'd say.

Both of us have had

a lot to do with death.

I'm not a brave man,

but you must be.

Ah.

Now-now-now,

this is not advice.

It's not

even a suggestion.

It's just something

for you to reflect on

while your mind's

still clear.

What?

I would not die a death

like I just described.

No?

Not if I

had your courage.

Oh.

Thanks.

Come in, Mrs. Rogers.

Oh, Mr. Books, I...

I'm beginning

to know your knock.

I was reading

about old Queen Vic.

Well, maybe she

outlived her time.

Maybe she was

a museum piece,

but she never

lost her dignity

nor sold her guns.

She hung on to her pride

and went out in style.

That's the kind of

an old gal I'd like to meet.

Mrs. Rogers,

are you afraid of me?

Well, to be frank, yes.

Why?

All these guns and

the kind of man you are.

Maybe you're afraid

of too many things.

Sometimes widows are,

but I'm sure there's plenty

of starch in your corset.

Mr. Books, I came here

to see what you can eat,

if you can have

what I'm serving.

No, you didn't.

I wish you'd stop

contradicting me.

I wish you'd say

what you mean.

Very well.

I apologize for

the unchristian things

I've said and done.

I'm sorry, and I'll do

whatever I can for you.

Well, thank you. I...

All my life,

I've been too proud

to take help

from anyone.

Guess I'll

have to learn.

Would you, uh...

sit down for a moment?

Please do.

What's that?

Laudanum.

Doc Hostetler's remedy.

That's habit-forming,

isn't it?

Mrs. Rogers, would

you go for a drive

in the country

with me tomorrow?

Oh, I... I couldn't,

but thank you.

I wish you'd reconsider.

It would only be

for an hour or two.

No. I appreciate

the invitation, but no.

Is it that you don't want

to be alone with me?

It's not that,

I assure you.

It's just that I've only

been a widow for a year.

People would...

People!

If I have to work

on your sympathy, I will.

I want to go out

in the world again

and see trees, lakes,

hills, and the sky.

And I don't fancy

seeing it alone.

I've been full

of alone lately.

I'm sorry.

Besides, there's a threat

of snow in the air.

Since I moved in here,

we've been scratching

at each other

and apologizing.

Well, let's see

if we can't do better.

Damn it. I wish to hell

you'd ride with me.

I apologize

for my language.

I'll go with you.

Good.

Tomorrow at 10:
00?

Will you get, please,

Mr. Gillom Rogers

to trot down

to the stable

and get us the best horse

and buggy they have?

I will.

I'm much obliged, ma'am.

Good evening.

Deuce is the dead card.

8 is your winner,

and the lovely queen,

the loser.

Hellfire!

That makes seven

turnovers in a row.

Pulford,J.B. Books

over at Mrs. Rogers.

That was

yesterday's news.

But I just heard

he's dying.

Dying?

Friend of mine got it

from Marshal Thibido.

Old Books is cashing in.

That's hard news.

That's a man

I could have taken.

Ha!

My ass.

You have two ways

of leaving this

establishment, my friend...

Immediately or dead.

Gentlemen, place your bets.

Place your bets,

gentlemen.

Look out!

43...

44...

45...

46...

47... 48.

Clean through

the heart!

Hey, Pulford!

Over 80 feet!

- Hooray!

- Hooray!

Oh, mighty handsome,

ma'am.

Moses had to dust

this buggy off.

He says he don't

rent it too often.

Doesn't.

Except just

for funerals.

Well, thank you, Gillom.

I appreciate this.

I want that wood chopped

by the time we get back.

Oh, Ma, I was

going to go on...

Yes, ma'am.

Hyah.

That is beauty.

It is a little chilly

up here.

Would you like

the top raised?

No, thank you.

You all right?

I will be in a minute.

Can I help you?

I've had plenty

of practice.

Why don't you

get married again?

What?

I think you heard me.

That's none

of your affair.

I haven't time

to be polite, Mrs. Rogers.

Well, for one thing,

I haven't been asked.

For another,

I loved my husband

and still do.

How did he die?

Stroke, they think.

They found him slumped

at his desk.

He was lucky.

He was 41.

Did he have time

to, uh...

Did he leave you

any security?

I have the property

and the house,

which he built

with a bank loan,

and Gillom.

And he worries you.

Yeah, he certainly does,

particularly when he

complains about being bored

and needing excitement.

Well, I wouldn't

be too hard on him.

Every young man

feels the need

to let the badger loose

now and again.

I try to reason

with him. I can't.

I can only

mother him.

That's not

what he wants.

Like I said,

that you can change.

Don't you have enough

worries of your own?

A few, but in general,

I've had a hell

of a good time.

Tell me, um...

what does the J.B.

Stand for?

John Bernard.

And yours?

Bond.

That's a crackerjack

of a name for a woman.

How do you do, Bond?

How do you do,

John Bernard?

Shall we?

Hyah!

Good morning,

Mrs. Rogers!

Mr. Sweeney.

Mike Sweeney?

John Bernard Books,

now, I'm flattered

that you remembered me.

You live around here now?

My spread's in

the foothills to the west.

Well, you look just like

I remember the Sweeneys...

mean and ugly.

Well, I heard

that you were in town

for a very short time.

That's true.

Drop by.

We'll talk about old times.

The good old times.

Ha ha ha!

You can bring

your fancy pillow,

and your landlady

is welcome, too.

Now, my problem is

that she never

accepts my invitation,

and to you two,

I say good-bye.

I'm surprised

at the company you keep.

That man is no friend.

Quite the reverse.

How do you know him?

I don't.

I had some dealings

with his

brother Albert once.

What happened?

Oh.

That's what worries me,

John Bernard...

the thought

of your victims.

What worried me

was survival.

Bond, I don't believe

I ever killed a man

that didn't deserve it.

Surely, only the Lord

can judge that.

Mr. Books!

Mr. Books?

Sir?

Are you hurt?

No.

But they are.

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