Forty Guns Page #5

Uh-huh. Did...

Did he do this all by himself?

I know how miserable you feel, Sheriff.

His kind puts a damper on

all peace officers in the county.

- I know that.

- It's true.

- This is to bind him over

to the attorney general.

- Oh?

Everything's gotta be read and signed.

- All of them. Government regulations.

- Of course. Yeah.

I'll pick 'em up later, with the prisoner.

Chico?

Chico!

Chico!

- Barney! Barney Cashman!

- Yeah?

Barney, come here.

- Yeah? What is it?

- Where's Chico?

The last I saw him,

he was headed for a drink.

He never touched the stuff.

I told you to keep an eye on him.

- Is Griff Bonell up there?

- Yeah, I'm here.

We've got your brother Chico.

Where do you want us to put the body?

We're with the First Division.

We came down here to have some fun.

But your brother here

drank up half the whiskey.

And he wrecked the whole

place doin' it.

Thank you, boys.

Thanks, Corporal. Barney.

- Thanks. Thanks.

- Good night.

I can figure a squirt like Brockie Drummond

getting liquored up.

He was born that way... scared and loud.

But you going off half-cocked

like that... Why, Chico?

- I'm old enough to drink.

- You're not old enough to hold it.

- Then I'll learn.

- Why?

That's my business.

Chico. Chico, what's bothering you?

Why do you think I came to Tombstone

with you? For the ride?

You pistol-whipped a man...

wouldn't let me be part of the play.

What if something happened to Wes?

You know you'd never make the walk

without a second gun covering you.

You rode out to the Dragoons, and

you wouldn't let me be in on the arrest.

I feel like a third leg.

- Did I hurt you, Chico?

- No.

I got no taste for farmin'.

I don't want any part of it.

Why?

You learned me to handle a gun.

You learned me too good.

Chico, you know

what happened to Chisholm.

It could happen to you,

could happen to me.

Remember when I told you how those

Roman fighters used to chop each other

up...

in some big arena, and you laughed

and called them freaks?

It won't be long now before people

will be laughing at men like me.

The last few towns we rode through,

they looked at my gun.

I know they figured I was one

of those freaks out of the past.

There's a new era coming up, Chico.

My kind of making a living

is on the way out.

- For a gunfighter, you do

an awful lot of talking.

- I'm a freak, Chico!

I just don't want you to be one.

Well, I'm tired of being wet-nosed.

I'm no agricultural cowboy.

I know.

A brand-new.45 Colt Peacemaker.

Nickel-plated, ivory stock. For me?

It's for killing rattlesnakes

and wild animals.

You'll find plenty

of both of em on the farm.

Well, you tell her this for me:

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