The Stranger Wore a Gun

While the Civil War raged

between the North and South...

there swept across the border

from Missouri...

into the free state of Kansas...

a renowned force of guerrilla troops...

led by a Confederate officer.

Unbeknownst to the men

who blindly followed him...

this leader was

no longer considered a legitimate soldier...

by either the South or the North.

He was William Clarke Quantrill...

jayhawker, border ruffian, freebooter.

His destination:

Lawrence! On to Lawrence!

That's Quantrill! Get out of sight, Mr. Travis.

Come on!

What have you got, Lieutenant?

Fifty fresh horses

in a pasture quarter of a mile south.

Guns and ammunition

are in the basement of a store...

being held for a new company of recruits.

Dead men can't use them.

What about the lists?

Here they are.

The men you wanted, and where they live.

Todd!

Run down every man on this list

and kill him.

With pleasure. Come on.

- You're not taking any prisoners?

- No.

- Any money in there?

- $10,000 in gold.

Break it in.

Break it down.

That's Martin. He runs this line.

- Mr. Travis.

- Open the safe.

You came here as a friend.

- Heaven help your treacherous soul.

- Jim, don't.

You ride with this madman,

this guerrilla, to rob, burn...

torture and murder defenseless people.

- I'm a soldier. It's war.

- War!

The Confederates don't recognize Quantrill

as part of the Southern Army.

And the North will hang him on sight

as an outlaw!

Shut up and open that safe!

Do it, Jim.

- No, I won't. It won't save me.

- You must.

Enough.

Break it open.

You've eaten at my table, spy.

It wasn't part of the plan to murder civilians.

Civilians? Yankee Free-Soilers.

You've done well, Lieutenant.

You'll share in the glory.

Take whatever you want from this town.

Mrs. Martin, please go.

There's no help.

Remember this day, Travis.

Remember it well.

Tell Quantrill to get himself another spy.

Now turn those horses loose

that Lt. Travis found. Hurry.

Since the Yankees won this war...

this rabble has been

overrunning these riverboats.

That'll cost you another $200.

Not for me.

- $200, and $300 better.

- Jeff. Quit bluffing. I'm calling you.

- Can you beat two big sevens?

- Easily, with two little nines.

- I threw away three tens!

- I had a low straight. The pot was mine.

Need some money? Some help?

In a game with you, anyone'll need help.

How about dealing me a good hand?

Not a chance. I'm out to break you.

That's a dirty trick to do to an old friend.

In a card game, I don't have any friends.

And neither do you.

- You're playing like a rube.

- A man is only as good as his cards.

You always played a much better hand

when you were holding nothing.

- What's on your mind tonight?

- Nothing.

I open.

Thinking of Lawrence again, huh?

It's all over, Jeff. Forget it.

All right, it's forgotten. Just like that.

Lawrence, Kansas.

It was Quantrill's biggest day.

I'll never forget it. Nobody'll forget.

That is, nobody who is still alive.

They looted and burned the town.

Quantrill and his men slaughtered 150.

Women and children, too.

And all because of the work of one spy.

Ever met a Quantrill man, lady?

Look, friend, why don't you

take your talk somewhere else?

Quantrill's dead

along with everything that went with him.

- The war is over.

- This wasn't war.

They were thieves,

cutthroats and murderers.

What do you say, mister?

I'd like to run into the man

that set up that massacre.

Think you'd know him if you saw him again?

Sure, I'd know him.

What difference does it make now?

He was only a soldier

doing what he had to do.

I was in the room with him

when Quantrill murdered my best friend.

I could never forget him.

He's sitting there now, the spy.

Let's go outside. They won't dare follow us.

Dirty, filthy spy.

Jeff, get over the side now.

Go to Jules Mourret,

Prescott, Arizona territory.

- Get back inside.

- Please, Jeff. Go!

I can't leave.

Somebody'll have to answer questions.

Questions! You're a Quantrill Raider

who killed two men.

- But l...

- There'll be a Yankee judge...

and a Yankee jury.

What chance have you got?

- Please, Jeff, go. I'll catch up with you later.

- Don't follow me, Josie.

Did you see him? Where is he?

Who?

- Where are those Army wagons going?

- Prescott ain't the capital no more.

They're moving

all the territorial papers to Phoenix.

This town got too rough for them.

Hasta la vista, bluejackets!

- Take your good government to Tucson!

- Come back when you get your furlough!

We're wide open now!

Mr. Conroy, another holdup.

- Good work, Jake. You got through anyway.

- That ain't good.

- I should of bagged one of them bandits.

- I'm glad they didn't hurt you.

Thanks.

- This town is a disgrace to everyone in it.

- We all know, but it takes time, Shelby.

- Things will change some day.

- But when? All we do is talk.

Nobody has the courage to do anything.

We're controlled by riffraff

and it's getting worse.

Don't worry about it, honey.

We've held our own so far.

But how long can we keep on doing it?

- The stage was just robbed.

- That's the second time this week.

You wouldn't get me to ride on that stage.

Funny thing, they don't touch

the people on that stage.

I'm sorry they made me

throw off the strongbox, Mr. Conroy.

- Nothing in it but rocks.

- Get me that carpetbag, will you?

Mr. Conroy.

Mr. Conroy. You got rocks in there, too?

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