Support Your Local Sheriff!
- 92 min
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We are gathered here today to consign
the mortal remains of Millard Frymore.
Or whatever his name really was.
I ain't really got
a whole lot to say about Millard
because he only rode amongst us
two days ago,
it was struck him down.
We can only hope
that whatever deadly disease it was
it wasn't particularly contagious.
And with that in mind, I suggest
we all bow our heads in devout prayer.
Heavenly Father, we hereby consign
to your tender mercies all that remains...
All that remains of one Millard Frymore.
Cause of death unknown.
And of considerable concern to those
of us thrown into contact with him
during the last two days.
Millard was struck down in what
was evidently the prime of his life.
In fact, he was took from us so fast
he never even got a chance
to unpack his suitcase.
However, inasmuch as we were the last
to know poor Millard here on earth,
and in so far as we were all drawn
to this godforsaken country
I'm certain you will agree with me...
- Hey, Pa... Pa...
- What is the matter with you?
- Take a look.
- Ain't you got no reverence for anything?
Take a look, it's gold.
I remind everyone we are here to
consign the remains of Millard Frymore.
- It's gold, Henry.
Down there in the grave.
- Let's get this coffin out and have a look.
- Oh, no, you don't!
Get out of my gold mine.
Get out of my gold mine.
- We're gonna be rich.
- Get out of my gold mine...
Gold! Gold! Gold!
It doesn't seem possible
that a town could get in this condition
in the short time it's been in existence.
and that drunken revelry going on
at Madame Orr's House 24 hours a day.
A decent woman
is not safe on these streets.
Oh, I think the women are safe enough
for the most part.
We only got a couple
that would be much interest to anyone.
Outside the dance-hall girls and they're
good at handling themselves in a pinch.
Or in a ticklish situation.
Well, now, this may be very funny
to the members of the town council.
We mine-owners haven't found anything
to laugh at since we started in business.
We don't think it's funny, Tom.
We just don't know what to do about it.
Maybe what we need is a new mayor
and a town council that does know.
What kinda talk is that? The only reason
I'm mayor and the others councilmen
is nobody else wanted the jobs.
Don't forget, Tom.
We're all mine-owners ourselves.
Do you enjoy giving 20 per cent of
everything you mine to the Danby family?
- All right, let's do something about it.
What? You all know the situation.
Us in Calendar.
There's Galena, where we ship our gold.
There's the Danby ranch in between the
two. The road runs through their property.
Then we build the road
around their property.
How? They own that whole valley.
If they don't get their 20 per cent, they
just hold up every stage and take all of it.
All right, but we've got to do something.
Even if it means bringing troops in here.
What troops? From where?
The nearest troops are 500 miles.
- Then we recruit our own.
- We can't recruit enough dishwashers.
How will we recruit troops?
Nobody wants to stop prospecting
long enough to take a bath.
It all happened so fast we ain't had
a chance to get organised yet.
- The Danbys are takin' advantage of it.
- There goes one of 'em now.
- Which one is he?
Out of the father and brothers,
he's second toughest.
- They all act like they own the place.Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes
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"Support Your Local Sheriff!" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 5 Jun 2023. <https://www.scripts.com/script/support_your_local_sheriff!_19167>.
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