Will Penny Page #2

Quint. These here are my boys.

Mighty nice of you

mindin' that elk for us.

We can clean it up ourselves.

Rafe, here, handles

a knife just fine.

We give them the elk, ja?

We were onto it first. Next

thing, they'll want our breeches.

Come on, Papa. Let's kill 'em.

We seen a whole camp back there.

Where's the rest of the party?

My shot brought it down.

- Maybe we split 'im up with you.

- Shut up, Dutchy.

Well, now. That's better.

There's five of us.

Countin' my woman.

However many there is of you,

if you was only two, that elk

might be enough to go round.

We'll work it out that way.

Then we all go away friends, ja?

There's more of us.

But we'll make do.

I don't see no more of you. Maybe

you're saying that to trick us.

Or maybe you're saying that

because you know that elk is ours.

And you're scared because the

Lord don't side with them...

that lies and steals.

The Lord sides with the righteous.

If you go away, maybe

the Lord will go easy

and forget you tried to

rob folk of what's theirs.

Walk away in peace.

- We leave them the damn elk!

- If they let us.

They killed Romulus!

Beware the wrath of the Lord!

He strikes down them that

have blood on their hands.

He punisheth the sinner.

Life for life.

Eye for eye.

Tooth for tooth.

Burnin' for burnin'.

Wound for wound.

Stripe for stripe.

Who sheddeth man's blood,

by man shall his blood be shed.

You ain't seen the last of me!

Blue!

- Dutchy, what's wrong?

- I'm shot.

I think maybe I done it to myself. I

couldn't get the gun out of my pocket.

Don't you move. We'll get the wagon.

Blue!

- Don't forget the elk.

- Yeah.

Hey! Pig, pig, pig...

Is there a doctor

nearby? A man's hurt.

- Come in. Maybe I can help.

- No, thank you.

Isn't there a damn doctor close?

About a half day's fast ride

up the road. Town of... Alfred.

If you're bad enough to see a doctor,

time you get there

it's too late anyway.

- How bad's your friend

hurt? - Bad. He's gut-shot.

Belly-shot out here? He's

a dead man for certain.

He'll bleed to hell

before he gets to Alfred.

Hello. Name's Catron. Place is mine.

Got some good whisky inside.

Best to make him rest easy

while he waits for the end.

Anything he drinks, on the

house. Bury him out back.

I'll carve him a nice head-marker.

Twenty-five dollars sound about right?

You sound almighty

sure he's gonna die.

Sure, I'm sure. Best to face

these things so you can make plans.

Dutchy? How are you makin' out?

Oh, Will... It hurts like hell.

- We'll go on.

- Hey, Will...

Maybe he's right, what he said...

that I die before we get there.

No, hell...

We have waited a long time

for a drink of whisky, ja?

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