The Mountain Men Page #2

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is something out there.

Of course there's something out there.

There's always something out there.

Why, there's rabbits and coons

and mule deer...

...and sometimes

there's just your own horses.

That's it again!

Set down, flatlander.

- Blackfoot! Mind your scalp!

- They're Crow.

You mind your own scalp.

- What the hell are you doing, Tyler?

- Is he just gonna lie there?

You want to get us killed?

Them goddamn Blackfoot

is trying to steal my mules!

Strikes me they're doing you a favour.

Now, looky here.

Them Crow put the sneak on us

half an hour ago.

There's at least 20 of them out there.

Sh*t! I mind the time when

10-to-1 was good odds for mountain men.

- 7-to-1.

- You don't count!

God damn it, I ain't gonna lay here

and let them sons of b*tches...

You go out there now, you'll lose

half the horses and all your hair.

I aim to keep them both.

- Come on.

- What the hell?

Roll out, roll out.

There's your cayuse.

Saddle him and let's ride.

- Well, how'd you get them back?

- I stole them back.

Come on, we ain't got all day.

That's Cross Otter.

Damnedest pirate you ever saw.

Blackfeet?

No. He told you they was Crow,

didn't he, you goddamn idiot?

What's he want?

He wants the goddamn horses back.

What the hell you think he want?

He says, "Smoke pipe friendly, go away".

My ass.

Come on in, Cross Otter!

- What should I do?

- Just keep your hand on that scattergun.

Don't take your eyes off them,

that's what you do.

Jesus.

Well, speak your piece, Cross Otter.

Tyler...

...your heart is black.

Damn it, you stole them horses first,

and you know it.

I have many men in my camp.

Strong. Young.

Maybe they kill you.

You keep ahold of your young men,

or I'll lift their hair.

But you stole our horses in the winter.

Well, you stole them from me last fall.

You're lucky

I didn't take your whole remuda.

You give us presents, we go in peace.

You can go in dog sh*t, dingleballs.

Had about enough out of you.

Or we take, we take horses!

Well, that'll be after the fight.

You speak with your tongue,

like young girls.

You eat dung of white cows!

Sh*t!

I assume now there's going to be a fight.

I told you there was Blackfoot hereabouts.

God damn it!

You might be right.

Open your eyes, son.

Come on, son, load!

Load, damn it!

After one or two of them bastards

gets killed...

...they sure lose

their stomach for fighting.

Crow dogs,

I crap on the graves of your fathers!

Crow and Blackfeet don't get along,

it seems.

Blackfoot don't get along with nobody.

I've seen them take off a man's skin

a strip at a time.

Blackfoot, come out and fight!

Send me your men!

Cross Otter, why don't you

quit your cussing and send for your braves?

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