Annie Oakley

Who you voting for

this November, Sheriff?

- Me?

- Yes.

James G. Blaine.

- Yeah?

- Yeah.

Eph, here, is casting his ballot

for Grover Cleveland.

No.

You voting for that New York Copperhead?

You bet your life I be,

and he's gonna beat the britches

off of your Mr. Blaine.

Lem! Lookit.

Slapping stickem all over your walls.

Well, you've got a gall,

smearing up Darke County

with them consarned stickers.

Well, a man's gotta make a living.

Well, I can't help that.

You take that ding-busted thing

down off of my wall.

Why, even the side of a man's cow

ain't safe from you fellows nowadays.

Go on, take it down.

Go on, take it down.

Lem, let's see the top half of it.

All right, hitch up the rest of him.

If Annie Oakley likes him, he stays up.

If she don't, down he comes.

Gosh, ain't he pretty?

All right, leave him up.

Who is he, Annie?

Toby Walker.

He's the greatest shot in the whole world.

Maybe at trick shooting, Annie,

but I'll bet he ain't one-two-three

with you on quail.

Oh, Lem, I just point a gun at them.

Say, that big hotel in Cinci's

still begging for some of your birds.

- You got some for me today?

- Sure, six dozen.

All dressed and picked.

Bet at 50 yards, she can knock

the eye out of a bumblebee.

Yeah?

Yeah. Them quail she shoots

don't know what hits them.

Slab in the head every time.

Supported her folks pretty near five years

on that gun of hers.

Wish I could shoot that way.

Wish you could.

We'd have law and order in this county.

Sheriff.

Do you remember the time

you aimed at a chicken thief...

- Yeah.

...and killed a hog?

Killed...

Mr. And Mrs. Quail,

won't you walk into my broiler?

Yes, sir and ma'am,

a warm welcome sure do await you.

Oh, my!

I's gonna baptize you slow in hot butter.

Hot butter!

And put you to sleep in a bed of rice.

Sleep on, sweet quail

Say, boy, how many of those quails

you done already counted?

- Twenty-six.

- Well, forget to count about four of them.

Don't you think I like quail myself?

- I done already uncounted eight.

- That's right.

Boys.

Your bad arithmetic's gonna

get you in trouble one of these days.

Them quails ain't no good, Mr. Maclvor.

They full of buckshot.

Not these quail.

They cost me fancy prices.

The hunter always hits them in the head.

That's right, boss.

That hunter sure is a shooting fool.

I want you boys to out-cook yourselves

on these quail.

The Mayor is giving this banquet

for Toby Walker.

Yes, sir, and it'll be fit for a king, too.

It better be. Mr. Walker is very particular.

Well, Toby Walker, I hereby pronounce you

a member of Buffalo Bill's happy family.

Yep, you've done a good day's work, Jeff.

Yes, I think so.

I think my partner will think so, too.

Colonel Cody and I don't sign up

any second-raters, only champions.

So, you're a champion shooter, huh?

I don't believe it.

Take it easy. That's Toby Walker.

Never heard of him.

Bet I can beat him myself.

What are you laughing at?

Well, maybe he could.

We haven't seen you shoot yet.

Well, money talks, Cap.

Your shooting rate's

pretty high around here.

Why don't you take me on?

I'm only an amateur.

I don't want any contest with you, Walker.

I'll lay you 3-to-1, and you can name

your own targets and distance.

- Take him on, Cap. He may not be so good.

- Sure, Cap. You're a good shot.

Take him on, Cap.

Ain't there one sport in this burg?

I'll give you 4-to-1.

Could you make that 5-to-1, Mr. Walker?

Look, Mac, you better keep out of this.

We ain't betting marbles.

This is for money.

Oh, is that a fact?

Well, I believe I've got someone

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