Warlock Page #2

Some of the town folk have been

wondering about Mr. Morgan

whether he'll have any

official status.

May I see that?

Tom Morgan is my friend.

We've been friends

for over ten years.

I've never known him commit an evil

act. You'll have to take my word.

I started working for him as a faro

dealer. I still do on occasion.

- Faro dealer?

- Yes.

We're partners.

The 400 dollars I get from you

would hardly pay for my ammunition.

Fortunately, as a faro dealer, I'm

an attraction. Things work out well.

I presume by that you mean

that people come

hoping to see you

shoot someone dead.

- You don't approve of me, Miss...

- Marlow. Jessie Marlow.

It really doesn't matter.

I'm in the minority.

You won't be in the minority

very long.

People generally begin to resent me.

I don't mind,

it's part of the job.

- I let me assure you...

- It will happen.

I come here as your salvation

on a very high wage.

I establish order,

ride roughshod over offenders.

At first, you're pleased because

there's less trouble.

Then, a strange thing happens.

You begin to feel I'm too powerful,

you begin to fear me.

Not me,

but what I am.

When that happens, we'll have had

full satisfaction from one another

and it'll be time for me to leave.

You speak as though from experience.

Has this happened many times?

Yes, ma'am.

In a lot of towns.

Clay, aren't you finished yet?

- Come on up.

- Excuse me.

We might as well adjourn.

They can't hold guns,

but they sure can hold meetings.

What's that?

The black rattle snake

of Port James.

That's a very poetic image.

Come on, I'll show you

your quarters.

Murch, start cleaning up

downstairs.

All right.

Well?

This'll fix up fine.

First, we get rid

of all this trash.

Look, we each have a bedroom.

I'll fix this up real fancy.

Don't work too hard.

There's only one bunch of gangsters,

the McQuowns. Won't take too long.

These aren't just tuners

like up in Port James.

I hear this is a bad bunch.

In any case, let's drink

to the next town.

To this one, first, and a successful

meeting with the McQuowns.

The sooner, the better.

Get back to work.

- Evening.

- It is, isn't it?

Some of McQuown's boys

just came in.

Is that so?

McQuown come himself?

Not yet. I've been doing

a little investigating.

See that big fella?

That's Jack Cade.

Number two to McQuown.

Next to him is Chet Haggin.

The little sneaky one on the right

is Pony Benner.

Jack Cade is supposed to be

the meanest.

- I see you added something.

- I wondered when you'd notice.

She came in the last batch from

San Francisco, with those drapes.

I held out because I didn't know if

you were big enough to handle her.

Very pretty.

I wonder if McQuown's coming in.

Don't worry about McQuown.

He'll never come up against you.

His style is to play with

a backshooter. Watch out for Cade.

You said that before.

Want me to handle

some of the action?

I'll play it my way, Morgan.

See if they don't have to too.

It'll help to put on

your gold handled pair.

There'll be a lot disappointed

if they don't see them flash.

They're for Sundays.

This is a work day.

See you downstairs.

- I'm ready.

- All right.

Let's have a drink

in the French Palace.

Maybe that marshal

will join us.

- Let's go get him.

- Take it easy, Billy.

Let's go, Johnny.

Murch, they're coming.

Watch for backshooters.

Anyone moves, you let go.

With this?

It'll mash half the place.

Anyone moves on Clay's back, let go.

I don't care who you mash.

All right.

- What will Blaisdell say?

- Nothing, if he's dead.

Evening, Mr. McQuown.

Gentlemen, the place is yours.

- Nice place.

- Thank you.

A drink for Mr. McQuown

and his friends.

- Hope you enjoy yourselves.

- We will.

Blaisdell will be half way back

to Port James by now.

- Don't you wish it, Pony?

- This is a different breed of horse.

This will be a real good one.

Hey Billy, maybe you, me,

Curley and Chet

can have a game of cards.

Whisky.

Mr. Marshal.

I wonder,

could I make a little complaint.

I guess it's up to me.

There's just been a heap

of fussing about it,

but it seems like folks have

gone and left it up to me.

It's them gold handles of yours,

Marshal.

I hope you ain't wearing them.

They're awfully hard on a man's eye.

I'm just speaking for myself.

I'd hate to get a case of eye strain

from them gold handles.

They're so bright

in the sun and all...

A man just ain't much use

without his eyes.

And I hear there've been an awful

lot strained in Warlock lately.

You could close your eyes.

I'd just look foolish.

I'd bump all over the place, trying

to get around with my eyes closed.

Marshal, por favor,

couldn't you just

not polish the handles so bright

rubbing on them, like they say?

I guess I might do that,

if things felt right in town here.

Marshal,

what if somebody painted

them handles black for you?

That might do...

But, who's to do it?

McQuown.

McQuown.

McQuown, my name's Blaisdell,

I'm hired to keep the peace here.

I'm going to lay down two things

and back up all the way.

The first one's this.

Any man starts a shooting scrape,

I'll kill, unless he kills me first.

Number two is what the citizen's

committee has agreed to.

If a man makes trouble, he'll

see himself posted out of town.

It's what some towns call

a white affidavit.

It's backed by me. Any man posted

comes in, comes in against me.

That's all I've got to say,

McQuown.

Blaisdell!

- Go for your arm, Blaisdell.

- Billy!

- Go along, son.

- Let's go, Billy.

That wasn't so hard.

I thought they'd never leave.

You dirty yellow,

I'll cut that stinking...

Stop it!

- Stop it!

- One day, I'll shoot that hand off.

Stop it, Johnny.

Let's not stand around

squalling at each other.

I knew about Cade, now I know about

you. You're both backshooters.

That's enough.

It's bad enough we're running back

- Our tails between our legs

- I just want to make it plain.

Shut up, Johnny.

Shut up.

You coming, Johnny?

No, Billy.

I guess I'll be staying in town.

- Afternoon, Mr. Gannon.

- Hello, Mr. Morgan.

Seems like you and me

are social pariahs.

What do you mean?

We're the only two in town

not invited to the wedding.

- Yeah...

- Me, because I'm a no good gambler.

You, because you're a no good

San Pabloite.

I'm not a San Pabloite,

not anymore.

It's a pity they don't believe you.

Just as they don't believe me.

- Weddings.

- You don't like them?

Mr. Gannon,

we pretend to be free men.

Yet, when conventionality

spreads herself out fold by fold,

we eagerly approach pretty misses

that bind us to domesticity.

You read that in a book somewhere?

I think I just made it up.

What I'm trying to say is that

civilisation is stalking Warlock.

Mr. Morgan.

I'm Fen Jiggs.

Ed Hamilton sent me from Port James.

Come inside.

Maybe you gentlemen feel

things have improved in Warlock.

- Maybe your safety is improved.

- It certainly has.

Not one drop of bloodshed

since the marshal took over.

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