The Shootist Page #2

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.

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