His name was J.B. Books,
and he had
a matched pair of. 45s
with antique ivory grips
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
was always after him.
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
a double order of oats?
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?
For anyone living under
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
in Abilene, Kansas.
Ma,
Wild Bill Hickok
was shot
before I was born.
We got
J.B. Books here.
He's killed 30 men.
Gillom, go to your room.
Go on. Go to bed before
you wake the house.
Good night, Ma.
Whoo.
Come in.
Mr. Books?
Oh, my clothes.
Thank you, m...
You are J.B. Books.
That's right.
May I ask
how you found out?
My son.
I've been up all night
because of you.
I demand that you
pack and leave.
That is not possible.
And why not?
I don't
propose to say.
So you won't go.
No.
And that's
your last word?
Mrs. Rogers,
you have a fine color
when you're
on the scrap.
Central, give me
the city marshal's office.
Thank you.
Come in, Marshal.
My name's Thibido,
Marshal
Walter Thibido.
I'm told...
you are J.B. Books.
You were told right.
Have a seat.
Don't think I will.
Breathe easy, Marshal.
You're closer to your gun
than I am to mine.
Books, Carson City's
full of hard cases...
Is your head cold?
Huh?
Oh.
Books, Carson City's
full of hard cases
who'd sell their souls to
put your name on the wall.
You'll draw trouble like
an outhouse draws flies.
I checked my bulletins
before I come over
and didn't find nothing
I can hold you for,
but I want you
out of town...
directly, today.
Maybe I'm not
so inclined.
Then, by God,
I will incline you.
I can badge
as many men as I need.
We'll smoke you out or
carry you out feet first,
so you say which,
Mr. Gunman.
It's your funeral.
Soon, yes.
Huh?
I can't go.
Can't?
I'm going to die
right here in this room.
Ha! That's too thin.
I wish you were right.
Would you believe
Doc Hostetler?
That's his verdict.
You don't say?
You don't sa...
goddamn!
Whoo!
Whooee!
I tell you
the truth...
Coming through that door,
I was scared.
I know what a man
like you is capable of.
I wondered
who'd get my job,
if the council would give
my wife a pension,
and if it would snow
the day they put me under.
Excuse me if I don't
pull a long face.
You talk too much.
Much as I damn please.
How long does
Hostetler give you?
He doesn't know.
Do me a favor.
I owe you one...
or Hostetler.
My being here...
maybe that's news,
but dying
is my own business.
Keep it under your hat,
will you?
Just don't take
too long to die.
Be a gent and
convenience everybody
and do it soon.
You've worn out
your welcome.
Scat.
The day they
lay you away,
what I'll do
on your grave
won't pass
for flowers.
You damn little sneak.
How long
were you there?
I was just
passing by.
You spy on me,
and I'll nail you
to a tree.
You've told your mother.
Who else have you
blabbed to?
Jay Cobb.
Are you all right,
Mr. Books?
I can't abide
a skulker.
You want to see me,
knock on my door
like a man.
Sure you're all right?
If there's anything
I can do for you,
just let me know.
It's an honor to have you
in this house.
Your mother
doesn't agree.
She doesn't know
how a man feels.
You're the most famous person
ever in this town.
When I was a boy,
I heard about your shootout
at the Acme Saloon.
I never thought
I'd meet you.
There's more
to being a man
than handling a gun.
Don't you have
something to do?
I was just headed over to
Cobb's Creamery right now.
I help Jay with
deliveries sometimes.
That was
the nice gentleman
you were with
yesterday.
Where's your mother?
She's in the kitchen,
I think.
Well, goodbye, sir.
It was real nice
meeting you.
Good-bye.
Mrs. Rogers, I, uh...
hope you'll forgive me
for taking Hickok's name.
I thought it was
pretty funny at the time,
but after reflection...
it wasn't such a joke,
and I apologize.
You should.
The only way you can
show your repentance
is to leave.
Well, that
I cannot do.
Mr. Books, you are
a notorious individual
utterly lacking
in character or decency.
You're an assassin.
That's according to which end
of the gun you're on.
You lied to me,
made a fool of me.
This house
is all I have.
If my lodgers
find out who you are,
they'll leave.
I have a cancer.
I'm dying of it.
I know what
you'll be thinking...
That I'll be
a lot of trouble.
Well, I won't.
You just
bring me my meals,
and I'll see
to the other needs.
I promise you
I won't be a burden.
Mrs. Rogers, I'm
in a kind of a tight...
I'll make it
worth your while.
I can pay $4.00 a day
for the room.
Oh, Mr. Books.
Most pleased to meet you,
sir, and honored.
What did you want
to see me about?
The name is Dan Dobkins.
I'm with
The Morning Appeal.
Mr. Dobkins,
sit down.
Thank you.
Um...
we ran the story
this morning
that you were here
at Mrs. Rogers'
and enjoying our
salubrious winter climate
and so on and so forth.
Have you seen it?
No.
It's page one,
I assure you.
I bought your paper
when I arrived.
Still reading about
Queen Victoria dying.
Oh.
What can I do for you?
That's what
I came to discuss.
Well, that's
what I figured.
You must
appreciate, sir,
that you are the most
celebrated shootist extant.
Extant?
Uh, still existing,
alive.
Thank you.
Yes, and your reputation
is nationwide.
My story went out over
the wires this morning.
Every daily of consequence
will run it,
but they'll want more,
the papers in
the East, in particular.
Between us, Mr. Books,
we can really put
Carson City on the map.
Mr. Dobkins, you're going
the long way around the barn.
Yes, sir.
I would
like tremendously
to do a series
of stories on you.
A series?
Yes. Uh, how long
will you be with us?
Not as long
as I'd like to be.
Oh, well, we could
start today, right now,
then get together
again tomorrow.
You see,
there's been so much
cheap fiction about gunmen.
I want to get down to
the true story for once,
while you're available,
before anything
happens to you.
I mean,
I hope nothing does.
Go on.
I want to cover
your career factually.
The statistics,
you might say.
Then I'd delve into the
psychological aspects...
What turned you to violence
in the first place?
Are you by nature
bloodthirsty?
Uh, do you, uh, brood
after the deed is done,
or have you lived
so long with death
that you're used to it?
The death of others?
The prospect
of your own?
Make like
that's a nipple.
One fit or fidget
and Mrs. Rogers is going
to be scrubbing your brains
off the wallpaper.
On your feet.
Back up.
Now, we're heading
for the front door.
Now, don't you shake,
shiver, or sneeze.
Mr. Books, what in heaven's
name are you doing?
Ma'am, we have
a touchy situation here.
Out.
Turn around.
Mmm.
Turn around.
Bend over.
Yes, sir.
Dobkins, you are a prying,
pipsqueaking ass,
and if you ever come
dandying around here again...
That was
a savage thing to do.
Maybe...
Mr. Books?
I'll tend myself.
First things first, Doc.
I almost forgot
to ask you.
How much do I owe you?
You're a man after
my own heart, Books.
Most of them ask
that last, if at all.
Well, let's see.
We'll make it $4.00
for the two visits
plus $ 1.00 for that.
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.
Call the marshal.
He got both of them.
They came in through
the windows... guns blazing.
Close your robe.
He's so damn fast,
he killed them both.
John Bernard Books
in a shootout right here.
Son of a bitch!
I will not have that
language in my house.
Sorry, but this
is a great day.
Our house is
a part of history.
You've got
to know that.
That's nothing
to be proud of.
I love that old man.
Gillom! All right!
It's time you knew.
He's dying.
Who?
Mr. Books.
I don't believe it.
He has a cancer.
You're lying.
He would have told me.
But he didn't tell you!
He told me.
He's dying.
Ma.
Ma.
You do understand?
That's the last of it.
Thank you,
Mr. Hutchins.
My position
as a teacher,
as a maiden lady,
I'm obliged to move
to another place.
Of course.
I apologize.
We're ready to go!
Bye.
Some coffee?
Don't mind if I do.
Did you know those two?
Nope.
They sure knew you.
Who were they?
Ben Shoup,
the one you killed
trying to get out
the window.
The other
named Norton...
Two no-goods, not
from around here.
I've never heard
of them.
Quite a night.
Your bedroom looks like
a slaughterhouse.
Oh, Mrs. Rogers.
I'll post a man
outside nights.
That'll cost the taxpayers
$3.00 a night
and $ 10 apiece to
plant two corpses.
Death and taxes,
Books.
Keeping you alive
to die natural
is costing us
a pretty penny.
There's no need
of any man outside.
I'd appreciate that,
Marshal.
Thank you.
L... I can't tell you
how sorry I am
about what happened
last night.
That won't help.
Two men are dead.
I was defending myself.
How are you feeling,
a little more poorly
every day?
You've got a streak of
kindness a mile wide.
That I do.
Tell you what...
Maybe I can help
speed things along.
Did you read about the shooting
the night before last?
No.
Whooee! That
was some shooting.
Pulford, he's
the faro dealer,
got off one round
under fire,
straight
through the heart,
and it measured 84'3".
Maybe I'll just
send him here,
let him deal you
a little faro.
You do that,
Marshal.
This is 19-aught-1.
The old days are gone.
You don't know it.
We've got waterworks,
telephones, lights.
We'll have our streetcar
electrified by next year,
and we've started
to pave the streets.
We've still got
some weeding to do.
Once we're rid
of people like you,
we'll have a goddamn
Garden of Eden here.
To put it in a nutshell,
you've plain plumb
outlived your time.
You couldn't put it in
a barrel without a bottom.
You're the longest-winded
bastard I ever listened to.
I may be windy,
but I ain't ornery.
When my time comes
to die,
I won't drag it out.
I'll just do it.
Why don't you?
Thibido...
I don't scare anymore.
Neither did Shoup
or Norton.
You wouldn't gun down
a police officer.
What'd stop me,
fear of dying?
#John Bernard Books #
# Lies amolderin'
in his grave #
#John Bernard Books #
# Lies amolderin'
in his grave #
#John Bernard Books #
# Lies amolderin'
in his grave #
# But his horse keeps #
# Gallopin' on ##
Moses?
Would you care
to do business
with a voice
from the grave?
Mr. Books!
It's pure pleasure
to groom your horse!
And even
a greater pleasure
to do business
with you!
Would you kindly
step into my office?
Lt'll be a pleasure.
Right this way, please.
Yes, sir.
Now, let me see
where I put
my spectacles
because I wouldn't
want to make no, uh...
financial mistake.
Yes, sir.
Here they are, Mr. Books.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
$ 100.
That's a lot
of money, Moses.
Who do I have...
What's this for?
What's it for?
For your horse.
My horse? I want
to sell my horse,
but this wouldn't
buy my saddle.
But, Mr. Books,
you done agreed.
When?
When you sent Gilly...
I mean, when Mr. Rogers
said this morning
$ 100 would be
just fine with you.
I'll have to have a talk
with Mr. Rogers.
As far as
the horse goes, it's 3.
300?
I might maybe
can go 200.
You might maybe
go more than that
'cause you'll get more than
that 'cause it's mine.
3, and I'll throw
the saddle in for cash.
What about my bill?
You throw that in.
I ain't made of money.
Are we going to stand
here and haggle all day?
Mr. Books, you the most
famous man I ever seen
and the second-best
haggler.
Who's the best?
Here I stand.
Well, let's get
to haggling.
Let's get to haggling.
All right.
Let's get to haggling.
1, 2, 3, 4.
That's 200. 200.
200 there.
20, 40, 60,
80, 90, 295.
No.
296?
No.
97?
98?
Sold.
You mean I did it?
Mr. Books, that makes me
the best haggler!
The best
in the world, Moses.
Yes, sir.
Gillom!
Gillom!
Where's Gillom?
In the woodshed.
That's appropriate.
Why?
You stay out of this.
Gillom!
I'm in here.
You'll account to me.
Sir?
You were trying
to cheat me,
and Moses was trying
to cheat you.
I'm sorry.
I'm glad of that,
but it doesn't...
it doesn't tell me
very much.
She, uh...
She cried on my shoulder
this morning
on account of you.
I had to comfort her.
And then the lodgers
moved out.
Your room is a mess...
and now Ma's worried
about losing the house.
Well, I just thought
that...
that maybe you might
want to do something
to try and make it up
to her.
I thought you might
be interested
in selling your horse
since you're...
Since I'm what?
You're dying.
How did you
find that out?
Ma told me.
Guess I'm the last one
in town to know about it.
Don't you think you
should have talked to me
before you tried
to sell my horse?
Yes, sir.
I suppose.
But I just wanted
to see first
if Moses would buy it,
that's all.
I'm not a horse thief.
A man's emotions can...
tangle him all up
sometimes.
I've been operating on
the raw edge lately, Gillom.
Guess I just jumped
too far too fast.
But, son, I never thought
you were a horse thief.
And I hope I can
hang around long enough
to make it up to you.
Sir...
do you think...
Would you give me
a shooting lesson?
A shooting lesson?
Well, a man should know
how to handle a gun,
use it with discretion.
But, uh...
you going to tell
your mother?
Well... do I have to?
Come on, I'll get us
something to shoot with.
It's beautiful.
See that tree
on the left
with the divided trunk?
You take the right side.
Aim well and put
five slugs in it.
Why not six?
You keep your hammer on
an empty chamber for safety.
And if you're going out
to face somebody?
Load six if your insides
tells you to.
Now, take your time.
That's good shooting,
Gillom.
Hey, Mr. Books,
my spread's not much
bigger than yours.
You did well.
Where did you learn
to shoot like that?
Jay Cobb lets me practice
with him by the lake...
when he's not in jail.
Day before yesterday, he
smashed some salesman's jaw.
Nice employer
you have.
Well, it's just
temporary...
till I find
whatever's right for me.
Yeah.
Wouldn't I like to see
him and Jack Pulford
go at it.
Did you hear about
what Pulford did?
I did.
Mr. Books.
Yeah?
How did you ever kill
so many men?
I lived most of my life
in the wild country,
and you set a code
of laws to live by.
What laws?
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,
and I require
the same from them.
But how could you get
into so many fights
and always come out
on top?
I nearly tied you
shooting.
There's nobody up there
shooting back at you.
It isn't always
being fast
or even accurate
that counts.
It's being willing.
I found out early
that most men,
regardless of cause
or need,
aren't willing.
They blink an eye
or draw a breath
before they pull
the trigger.
I won't.
Bat Masterson told Cobb...
Bat Masterson?
Yeah.
He says that a man
has to have, uh...
guts, deliberation, and
a proficiency with firearms.
Did he mention that
third eye you better have?
Third eye?
For that dumb-ass
amateur.
It's usually some
six-fingered bustard
that couldn't hit
a cow in the tit
with a tin cup
that does you in.
But then,
Bat Masterson
always was
full of sheep dip.
Whoa. I hope you're
smart enough to know
that that who hit John
don't go with guns.
Oh, sure. Yes, sir.
Well, now that we got
that cleared up...
as my Mexican friend
said,
"To the pure life. "
Johnny?
Yes?
May I come in?
Don't... Don't you
remember me?
Serepta?
Oh.
Sera, I can't tell you
how happy I am you're here.
I came
the minute I heard.
Have I changed
so much?
No, it's... just been
a long time.
It isn't true,
is it?
God, how I loved you.
And I loved you.
Is it true?
Oh, no.
Aw, don't cry, Sera.
We all have our time.
I must look a sight.
For sore eyes.
You still with Pardee?
No. He treated me
the way I did you.
He just
up and skipped.
We should have married.
Spilt milk.
You never did, huh?
No.
Now you're alone.
I'm so glad I'm here.
So am I.
Would you still
like to?
We could get a minister
and just say I do.
That way, I'd have
the certificate.
I'd have something
to go on.
Not much.
I'd have your name.
How far would that
take you?
Long ways, maybe.
How?
Johnny, you're too
modest, you know?
Everybody knows
who you are.
I'd be
Mrs. J.B. Books.
I'd be somebody.
That wouldn't buy you
any bacon.
Well, it might.
See, that's how come
I knew that you had...
that-that you was
ailing bad.
This newspaper reporter
here tracked me down.
He wants to put out
a book on you.
He'll write it
and use my name.
The Shootist...
The Life and Bloody
Times ofJ.B. Books
by Serepta Books,
his wife.
He said
in the East
that it would sell
like hot cakes
and he'd split it
with me.
And his name is Dobkins.
Right. How did you know?
I kicked him out of here
for the same reason.
Johnny,
what harm is there
in a marriage certificate,
a piece of paper?
I don't object to that.
It's the book.
Why?
What does he know
about my life?
What do you know?
He says what he doesn't
know, he'll make up,
and, you know,
gory things,
shoot-'em-ups
and midnight rides
and women tearing
out their hair.
It will be a corker,
I promise you.
Woman, I still have
some pride.
A man should be allowed
his human dignity.
I spent $3.00
on the train here.
One-way.
You and Dobkins are two sides
of a counterfeit coin.
I'll pay you back.
I'll pay you both ways.
What's wrong
about a book?
I'll not be remembered
for a pack of lies.
'Cause you're too damn
mule mean, that's why.
You always was.
Why should you care what's
happening? You're dying.
I have
to go on living,
and you don't give a hoot
in hell what happens!
Why should you?
You won't be here!
God. And I loved you once.
You bastard.
May you rot to death!
# 'Twas blighted
affection #
# That made him exclaim #
# Oh, willow
tit-willow #
# Tit-willow #
# And if you remain
callous #
# And obdurate, I #
# Shall perish
as he did #
# And you will
know why #
# Though I probably
shall not exclaim #
# As I die #
# Oh, willow #
# Tit-willow #
# Tit-willow
says I ##
You seem
in fine fettle today.
I should be.
I'm full of laudanum.
I'll get
your breakfast.
Good. Thank you.
I didn't mean
to break up the recital.
Oh, that's all right.
It was just something
for the Sunday School
class
for the church social.
Bond, uh, I've driven off
all your other lodgers.
Is it all right if I
have breakfast out here?
Of course it is.
I was delighted to see you
had a lady caller yesterday.
She asked me
not to announce her.
She said she wanted
to surprise you.
Were you surprised?
That I was.
Oh, these clothes,
uh...
they're my
Sunday-go-to-meetings.
I wish you'd give them
a good brushing.
Certainly.
They're getting
pretty roady.
Nine days on the back
of a saddle
in a bedroll.
Wouldn't you rather
have them cleaned?
That's the general idea.
I mean there's
a new method
called dry-process
cleaning.
It's very good.
How long does it take?
They advertise
next-day service,
but tomorrow's
Sunday.
I'm afraid I'll have
to settle for the brushing
'cause I'll need them
first thing Monday morning.
I'll ask. If I can't
get them by then,
I'll brush them.
I'll get
your ham and eggs.
Just biscuits will do.
My stomach's
kind of feeble today.
Oh. You sure
you won't want these
for church tomorrow?
I don't think so.
You're most welcome to
accompany Gillom and me.
Maybe your church
won't welcome me.
That's a terrible thing
to say.
Doors of the church
are open to everyone.
Well, my church has been
the mountains and solitude.
No doors at all.
That's hardly
the same thing.
We all need a minister
to guide us.
Well, if you think of it,
give a thought
to my soul tomorrow.
I will. I have been
praying for you.
I think Gillom has, too.
Thank you.
Thank you both.
Tell me, um...
what did he do yesterday
that made you so angry?
It isn't what he did.
It's what he didn't do.
We have that
straightened out.
You should be proud
of Gillom.
He has the making
of something special.
I hope so.
I'm going to send
Reverend Saunders
to see you tomorrow.
No, thank you.
Maybe it'll make it
easier for you.
No.
Just for a few minutes.
Bond, I'm tired of people
pawing over my death
for this reason or that
or for any reason.
A man's death is about
the most private thing
in his life.
It doesn't belong to Dobkins
or Reverend Saunders
or Thibido or you.
It's mine.
I suppose that's true
of your soul, too.
My soul is what
I've already made of it.
You reprimand me
for making judgments
with a gun barrel
poked in my face,
but it's all right for you
to judge me on hearsay.
But the hearsay fits.
Maybe I'm better than
you've already decided.
Maybe I'm no worse
than that good reverend.
Maybe you like
being a gunman.
You probably prefer
the word shootist.
I don't think
of myself as either.
Oh, no. You're some
godlike creature
of infinite knowledge,
aren't you?
I'm a dying man
scared of the dark.
Damn you! Damn you for
the pain you've brought
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 bitch.
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.
Good night, sir.
Come in.
We got the headstone.
Mr. Beckum...
Good. Just put it there
on the bed.
Beckum said as how he done
the best he could,
but there weren't
much time.
Yeah, well,
that'll be all right.
Well, I'll be goldarned,
if they ain't gone
and left the date off.
That'll be all right.
Yes, sir.
Thank you.
Early for you,
ain't it?
Yeah, well,
I'm expecting somebody.
Bring me a cup of coffee,
will you, Murray?
Sure.
John Bernard?
Oh.
How grand you look.
Thank you, Bond.
That dry-process cleaning
is very good, isn't it?
Yeah, but it's kind
of smelly.
Well, that's the naphtha.
Oh, this is my birthday.
I, uh, haven't been to
a saloon for a long time,
and I thought I'd get
a drink and celebrate.
Happy birthday.
Thank you.
You have
a beautiful day for it.
It's what we call
false spring.
Good-bye, Mrs. Rogers.
Good-bye, Mr. Books.
Well, boy,
here's your big chance.
Fame and fortune awaits.
After I put that old man
out of his misery,
I'm going to get you.
Sure, you will.
Don't wet your pants.
Marshal Thibido!
May I see you for a moment?
What's going on?
Shh! Dobkins,
this is law business,
not newspaper business.
Adolph S. Ochs is the publisher
of the New York Times.
He's asked me
for an article
on how city officials
are reacting
to the presence
of our famous shootist.
I was thinking of doing
a series of stories on you.
Whooee. Let's get
the hell off the street.
You tell them that's
Thibido with an "H."
Good morning.
Good morning,
Mr. Books.
You don't give a fella
very long to board this thing.
Got a schedule to keep.
Good morning.
Good morning, sir.
Isn't it
a beautiful day?
It sure is.
It's what we call
a false spring.
Yes, sir?
Glass.
Mr. Sweeney...
care to try your luck?
Hmm.
Hmm.
Whoa!
Friend... for you.
What?
Make you a little
more comfortable.
Well, sir, these old bones
surely thank you.
I sure hope the right
fella comes along.
Good morning, sir.
Good morning.
This is my birthday.
Give me the best
in the house.
Yes, sir.
Thank you, sir.
And I'll tell you
that was for Albert!
Look out!