Whispering Smith Page #2

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Marian?

Yes?

Nothing.

I just want to say thanks

for... everything.

Hi, Marian,

how 'bout that hot water?

Coming.

All right. All right.

So one of these days,

you'll stop a couple of bullets

with your teeth, and you'll end up...

I know. I know. I'll end up probate, with

coyotes chewing the buttons off my pants.

Luke, such talk!

It's not me. It's Murray.

That's all he's been saying

the last two days.

I wish you'd

think up some other words.

Now, on the level, Smitty. When

are you gonna give up riding herd...

on express car bandits and

get somethin' for yourself?

Such as what? Well, for one thing, you

could quit the railroad and throw in with me.

Huh? Sure. I've got more ranch

than one man could ever handle.

You put in with me, you can write your

own ticket. We'll run the Circle "Z" 50-50.

What do you say? Well?

Nice offer, Murray.

It just isn't in the cards.

- Why not?

- Well, l... For the first thing, I've got my job.

Job. You call that thing you've

got a job? A railroad cop?

I like the railroad, Murray. It's

in my blood just like it's in yours.

- You talk to him, will you, Marian? Tell him he's

crazy. - I think Luke should decide for himself.

Well, how about it, Smitty?

- Sorry, but thanks just the same.

Well, I'm not begging'.

- You must be out of your mind, though.

- Look out, Murray. You'll cut his throat.

Well, maybe I should.

Let some sense into him.

There.

Now you can pretty him up.

Thanks for the shave.

But next time, use a pair of pliers.

They'll pull out easier. Say, what are

you whacking into this skirt for, honey?

I'm shortening it. Ho, ho,

ho. You see that, Smitty?

You haven't been here five minutes, and

already, she's wanting to show off her legs.

Murray, please!

- All set, Murray?

- Yeah. I'll be right with you.

Where you goin'? Into town. I'm three

days late with my report on that wreck.

Old shiny pants'll be bawling'

like a stuck calf. "Shiny pants"?

Yeah. The new division superintendent,

George McCloud. You know him? No.

He's a college guy. Got a little book

called How to Run a Railroad. Bye.

Take good care of him,

Marian.

What's the trouble, boys? It's that sheepherder,

Rostro. He's back up in the North Flats again.

Yes, and them stinking', woolly maggots has grazed

off better than a half section of good cow feed.

- What did you do about it?

- Nothing'. We...

Nothing'? Why, you dumb beef heads,

what do you think I'm paying you for?

Go on. Get back up there. Take the dogs and

run those blasted sheep clear into the river.

But, Murray, the North Flats don't

belong to us. That's government range.

- Rostro has as much right to graze there...

- You keep out of this, will ya?

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