Un Minuto Per Pregare, Un Instante Per Morire (A Minute to Pray, a Second to Die) Page #3

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a joke.

lt's no joke. lf an outlaW

comes in...

You'll give it to him.

Yeah. We're all in the same

business, Marshal.

Wiping out the no-good trash.

Let's get out of here.

Don't Worry, Marshal,

With us out here...

ain't no man With a price on his

head gonna bother you.

And you better get that ten

grand together...

'cause it's McCord We'll bring

in next.

Who's next?

l think Clay is next, right Ed?

What's that? lt's my turn.

Don't listen to the old bum.

He's lucky We even let him

hang around.

Sit doWn and relax.

Clay?

You remember me, don't you?

lt's Jonas.

No.

l Was pals With your pa...

prospecting gold together...

before he ran into that spot of

trouble in Bingham.

Stop slobbering all over me!

What happened in Bingham, Jonas?

lt Was sad... tragic like.

Pa McCord all eaten up inside.

Epilepsy Was What it Was.

What?

The fits.

A real man like he Was.

What Would he do, for instance?

Get the shakes.

-Terrible thing to Watch.

-Shut up!

Clear out, Jonas!

What?

Beat it.

Don't let him touch you, Clay.

He'll slit you from ear to ear.

Why?

Don't shoot.

That fella you killed a feW days

ago, he Was my son.

You mean the one that tried to

shoot me in the back?

All right, one death in the family...

We'll let it go at that.

Well. What are you Waiting for?

Let's have some service.

You knoW, if you do cut my throat...

l'll still have plenty of time to

take you With me.

My hands are shaking.

So are mine...

so We both got to be real careful.

Got the fits like your pa.

Ain't that a pity?

Won't be long you'll be having'em

right in the streets.

KnoW What. McCord?

Long as you're craWlin'...

you ought to craWl yourself all

the Way to Tascosa...

beggin' for that amnesty.

There's a shoW.

Step right up, folks...

and see the number one gun

have a fit...

and When he's finished, kiss the

Marshal's hand.

l could sell a million tickets to

that one.

l didn't assign a Watch. Seein' as

hoW the cells are empty.

Unless you Want a man on duty,

Marshal.

No, not necessary.

What the sam hill did l do With

those keys?

Not these, the ones for

the jailhouse.

Right over here, Marshal.

l got 'em.

Thanks.

Good night.

-Night.

-Night.

Good night, Marshal.

Good night, Butler.

Smokin' is bad for your health.

So is holdin' a gun on a Marshal.

Yeah. Well, let's go someplace

Where We can talk.

Such as?

HoW's your office?

Hey, Marshal!

You make up some story and

get rid of him.

ls anything Wrong?

Goin' back to the jail to look

for the keys.

Been lookin' for 'em all day.

Yeah, the keys.

You'll find them in the top

left-hand draWer.

Good night.

Night.

That's one for the books...

handcuffing a Marshal.

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