The Hanging Tree Page #2

burning a house down?

He hit that fella. He did nothing

and he nearly killed him.

Unsaddle my horse and

stake him out.

All he said was something

about a house burning down.

Are you gonna kill

a man for that?

Rune...

We're starting a new regime.

We rise at 4:
30...

work the claim until 8:30...

Then we come here and take care of patients.

Any questions?

Any questions about my life

or my way of life?

- No.

- Good. Go unsaddle the horse.

That Frenchy wasn't far wrong.

If you aren't the devil,

he's sure sitting on your shoulder.

- 15,000. Take or leave.

- Okay.

Hey, Doc!

Hey, Doc!

There's a fellow in town.

He needs you bad. Stagecoach driver.

- He staggered in half dead - took 3 days to get here.

- What happened to the passengers?

- The coach got held up and all the passengers killed!

- All except for a lady.

- She got lost.

- And the driver says she was a real looker.

Mr. Flaunce, you know the canyons around here.

Would you lead a posse to find that lady?

- Yes, all right.

- You take the posse back down that road.

Coming, Doc?

I'd better stay. There's the stage driver

and I have patients waiting for me.

Want to ride with us, kid?

I got no horse.

Take mine.

How come?

What if I just kept on going?

No matter where you went,

that bullet hole would tell its story.

Which posse are you riding with?

- I'm gonna look for that Lost Lady.

- That figures.

Watch yourself. I don't want my

bondservant crippled.

Don't worry, I'll take good care of

your property and your horse too.

There!

She isn't here.

There's something.

Letter's to her.

Name's Elizabeth Mahler, from

Switzerland. This is to her father.

Well, he sure can't read it

in his grave.

Well, the lord only knows which way she headed.

Let's all fan out...

And meet us up

at Stump Meadow.

She'll need good clothes to

survive these cold nights.

Well, if you find her dead,

fire two shots. If alive, three.

- Any luck?

- No.

- How many are still out?

- About a dozen.

Well, all right.

We'd better bed down for the night.

Stinking country. You get fried days

and froze nights.

At least we got

blankets and a fire.

But she?

We're gonna find her dead.

- You know you're bleeding, son?

- Sure, a thorn bush tear.

- You known Doc Frail long?

- Not too long.

Have some jerky.

Thank you.

I've known Doc Frail 5 years.

Ever since the Bannock strike.

We do a little business together

off and on.

The Doc could have had it pretty

easy half a dozen times

But he can't seem to get away

from that little black bag of his.

- Maybe he carries his soul in it.

- That's good...what soul he's got.

Once I asked the Doc

about that name of his: Frail.

All he said was...

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote