The Shootist Page #6

into this house.

There we are, sir.

Mr. Books.

Yes, sir?

I'm Hezekiah Beckum,

the undertaker, sir.

How do you do?

I hope you don't think

my stopping by

is untimely, sir.

No, I admire a man

with get-up-and-go.

As the saying goes

in our profession,

the early worm

gets the bird.

I, uh, admit to having heard

some unfortunate things.

I'd like to express

my heartfelt regret.

All right.

What's your proposition?

I'm prepared to offer

you embalming

by the most, uh,

scientific methods,

a bronze coffin guaranteed

good for a century

regardless

of the climatic

or geological

conditions,

my best hearse,

uh, the minister

of your choice,

and the presence of at

least, uh, two mourners...

a headstone of the finest

Carrera marble...

and a plot in size

and location

befitting

your status, sir...

and perpetual care

of the grounds.

For how much?

Why, nothing, sir.

For the privilege.

No, I mean how much will

you make on the deal?

Oh, Beckum,

you're going to do to me

what they did

to John Wesley Hardin.

You're going

to lay me out,

let the public gawp at me

for 50 cents a head,

10 cents

for the children.

When the curiosity

peters out,

you'll stick me

in a hole

while you hurry to

the bank with your loot.

I assure you...

Give me a scrap

of paper and a pencil.

What good's

your assurance

when my veins are filled

with your damn juice?

No. Here's what

you're going to do.

First you're going

to give me $50 cash.

Then early

Monday morning,

you'll bring me

a headstone.

I want a small headstone

with this written on it.

Nothing else.

No jabbery, no angels.

You got that?

Mr. Books,

you're a hard man.

I'm alive.

Ah, very well.

I'll set

my stonecutter

to work on the inscription

immediately.

Mr. Beckum.

The $50.

Oh. Hmm.

Thank you, sir.

Early worm,

early worm.

That Beckum is just

what you say he is.

Well... now,

how much do I owe you?

Not one bitty penny,

Mr. Books.

Why, to watch that

performance you done give,

I'd have paid $ 10

in a theater.

Well, I may just accept

your generosity.

Besides, I may

just see if Beckum

would like to buy some

of J.B. Books' hair.

With

your permission.

Permission granted.

Good day, sir.

What the hell?

And the third man's

name is...

Mike Sweeney.

Do you know him?

Sure, I do. He's got one of

those horseless carriages.

And now for the favor

I'm going to ask you.

You just tell me, sir.

Anything at all.

Don't dive in till

you know how deep it is.

Today's the 27th,

isn't it?

Yes, sir.

Now, that's Jack Pulford,

Jay Cobb, and Mike Sweeney.

Tomorrow morning early,

I want you to go to each one

of them and tell them

that I'll be at the

Metropole

at 11 A.M.

On Monday the 29th,

and don't tell any of them

that you've told the others.

Cobb's still in jail.

Yeah, well,

tell him anyway.

Think you can

do that for me?

Well, I know I can,

but, uh, Ma's going

to have conniptions

if I don't go to

church in the morning.

You can go

to church first.

I telephoned Moses.

You can ride Old Dollar

out to the Sweeney spread.

Yes, sir.

Thank you and...

and good night.

Son of a b*tch.

Don't cuss.

Yes, sir.

You know that kind of

music gets on my nerves,

especially on Sunday.

Sorry.

Ma, are you angry

at Mr. Books?

Why? What did he say?

Nothing. It's just...

Ma, I'm sorry.

I got to go run some

errands for Mr. Books.

I promised him.

Gillom.

Gillom.

I'll be back soon.

Soon as I can.

Oh! Oh!

What happened?

Are you all right?

I slipped in the tub.

Let me help you.

Hell.

Come on, now.

Hang on to me. That's it.

Now sit on the edge

of the tub.

I'll get you another towel.

Damn!

John Bernard,

you swear too much.

The hell I do.

Put your arm

around my shoulder.

Why didn't you

ask me to help you

in the first place?

I couldn't.

Why not?

I promised you

I wouldn't be a burden.

But you are, so let's

just forget about that.

I sure as hell am.

Oh, let me sit down.

Oh, sit down for a minute

while I catch my breath.

Oh...

well, we finally made it

through a full day

without having a fight.

Well, we haven't seen

each other all day.

You're right there.

You know, Bond,

you're such a real

lady on the outside.

You're full of vim and

vinegar on the inside.

I just never met

anybody like you.

You're running low.

I better call Dr. Hostetler

and order some more.

No. This'll do.

Oh.

That Morning Appeal.

I've skimmed newspapers

all my life.

Never got the whole

good out of one.

I bought this

the day I arrived,

and I said to myself,

"I'm going to read every

word, and when I'm done,

"I'll know for a fact

exactly what happened

on January 22nd

in the year 1901."

It was an important day

in my life,

and now I know.

Would you do me a favor

and give this honorable

incineration in my stove?

You're getting ready

to do something.

What makes you say that?

This...

dry cleaning...

laudanum...

haircut.

I want you

to promise me something.

Tomorrow when you see me in all

my dry-cleaning splendor

and my Sunday-go-to-meeting

clothes,

I want you to promise

there'll be no questions...

no surmises,

no woman's intuition.

All curiosity stops

right here and now.

Promise me?

And no tears, Bond.

Mr. Books!

In here, Gillom.

Oh, so I see.

No, you don't see.

I was helping Mr. Books

out of the bathtub.

What?

You must be hungry.

No, Ma. I'm fine.

I promise.

Thank you.

Well, sir,

I got it done.

Good. How'd you get

along with Old Dollar?

Oh, he's a great horse.

You should've seen the look

on Marshal Thibido's face

when I rode up

to the jail.

He must've thought I was you

coming to bust Cobb out.

Hardly me.

Which is just about

what I did do

'cause Thibido's

going to let Cobb out

long enough to meet you.

Good.

You'll never guess

how Cobb took that.

I bet he jumped with joy.

He got all white,

scared to death.

Oh?

Now, Pulford was happy.

He really respects you.

He told me so.

And he sure was polite.

He said, uh,

"I eagerly await the

honor... and the privilege

of having him try his

luck at my faro table. "

We'll have

to give it a try.

Now, how about

the other fella... Sweeney?

You watch out

for him, Mr. Books.

That man is mean,

and he hates you.

Well, we'll see if we can't

clear that up tomorrow.

Sir, what's...

Thank you. We both

ought to get some sleep.

Can I ask you something?

I'm tuckered out.

We'll talk tomorrow.

But I have to be out

before sunup,

do the milk deliveries

while Cobb's in jail.

Then we'll both

have a busy morning.

Before you go...

there's something

I want to give you.

No, sir. No.

I won't take pay.

And I wouldn't offer it,

Gillom.

But you like Old Dollar,

don't you?

Best horse I ever rode.

Well, he's yours.

I bought him back.

Here's the bill of sale.

Now let me get

some sleep.

Sir?

Yeah?

When you asked me

to do this,

I- I didn't realize...

and... and I just hope

that nothing...

Just take good care

of Old Dollar.

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