Forty Guns

Synopsis: An authoritarian rancher, Barbara Stanwyck, who rules an Arizona county with her private posse of hired guns. When a new marshall arrives to set things straight, the cattle queen finds herself falling, brutally for the avowedly non-violent lawman. Both have itchy-fingered brothers, a female gunmaker enters the picture, and things go desperately wrong.
80 min

Whoa. Hey, where can

we get a bath?

Barney Cashman's Russ House,

across the street.

Thanks. Wes.

Save a bath for me.

Leave me alone. Keep away from me,


Don't make me shoot you.

- What's wrong, John?

- Huh?

Since when did you start

pulling a gun on a man's back?

Griff? That you, Griff?

You promised you'd wear glasses.

Griff. Just goes to show if you pray

long enough, something happens.

Praying never gave a man the shakes.

- Who's picking on you, John?

- A boy, Griff.

A wet-nose, but mean, ugly.

- He was drunk...

- He made you skin back, didn't he?

He gave me an hour to get out of town.

- Then you'd better go.

- You gotta help me.

I didn't come to town

to spank a wet-nose.

If he throws down on me,

I haven't got a chance.

Your eyes have been getting

worse, haven't they, John?

I'm broke. I've got

to hang on to my job.

There's nothing else I can do.

You and me only got one trade.

Take it away from us,

and what do you got left?

There's a good eye doctor in Prescott.

Oh, I can't sneak out like that, Griff.

You haven't got any choice.

You must have a good reason

for not wanting to help me.

- It's none of my business.

- Then why are you here?

Start running, John.

Run before your eyes give out all the way.

What if the doctor can't make me see?

Then you'll be blind instead of dead.

Put it back, Barney.

- Griff.

- How are ya, Barney?

That you behind

the shrubbery, Wes?

Yep. How's nosy Barney?

Bankin' my silver, boys.

This camp's a bonanza.

- I told you, Griff.

- Our brother, Chico,

he's headed for California.

- California? With all the diggin's here?

- Our folks are out there.

I couldn't help reading the name

on that warrant, Griff.

You'll need more than a third gun

to pick up Howard Swain.

- You know where I can find him?

- Out at the Dragoons.

We passed nothing out there but a woman

on a white stallion and a regiment of riders.

Then you've seen Jessica Drummond...

the one I just sung about,

the one I wrote the ballad about.

- Nobody around the Dragoons

is allowed to sing it.

- So that's Drummond, huh?

Yep. Boss of Cochise County.

She and them 40 guns

that ride with her.

Beautiful woman, ain't she, Griff?

- Swain one of her 40 thieves?

- He sure is.

- Howdy, Marshal.

- Howdy, Shotgun.

- Going someplace?

- Just up the road a piece.

- Hello, Marshal.

- Howdy, Miss Louvenia.


Where you goin'?

You're runnin' out, ain't ya?

Please, Brockie! Please!

Give me your coffee.

Have some coffee, Marshal.

Slap that leather, Marshal.

Please, Brockie.

You don't know what you're doin', son.

You're no gunfighter.

You're a mouth-fighter!

- Now, pull that plow handle.

- Please, Brockie!

Isn't there a sensible man here

that can stop this drunken...


Now, that's a marshal for ya.

Come on, Charlie.

Lets go have some fun.

- How is he, Doc?

- He'll live, but he'll be stone blind.

- Why didn't you take my advice, John?

- I did.

You need a gun, Griff?

Mr. Spanger here...

No, it's not my fight.

- I'll put a stop to this.

- You can't tangle with 'em.

Nobody's gonna wreck

my shop.

He's a gunsmith, not a gunfighter.

Mr. Gunsmith!

- Yes, Mr. Bonell?

- All right, Wes.

- Where's your shop?

- I'll be glad to show you,

Mr. Bonell. Come on! Come on!

Let's break up the store.

- Which one, Brockie?

- That one!

Let me have a.44-40.

Charlie! Charlie Savage!

Look who's comin'.

- I'm gettin'outta here.

- What's the matter, Charlie? You sick?

There's only one man walks like that.

When he gets closer, I'll skin him!

What's the matter with you guys?

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Samuel Fuller

Samuel Michael Fuller (August 12, 1912 – October 30, 1997) was an American screenwriter, novelist, and film director known for low-budget, understated genre movies with controversial themes, often made outside the conventional studio system. Fuller wrote his first screenplay for Hats Off in 1936, and made his directorial debut with the Western I Shot Jesse James (1949). He would continue to direct several other Westerns and war thrillers throughout the 1950s. Fuller shifted from Westerns and war thrillers in the 1960s with his low-budget thriller Shock Corridor in 1963, followed by the neo-noir The Naked Kiss (1964). He was inactive in filmmaking for most of the 1970s, before writing and directing the war epic The Big Red One (1980), and the experimental White Dog (1982), whose screenplay he co-wrote with Curtis Hanson. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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