Sweet Vengeance

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Lord, you awaken our good man!

Though the night is made for loving,

and the day she comes too soon,

yet will guide them now a'roamin', boys,

by the light of the moon.

Whether by chance or he be chosen,

every man travels the Winter Highway

to either ruin or salvation.

Chance leads to death,

but the Chosen only need listen.

And so it was,

on this very spot,

in flame I crown

a boundless light and a robe

of exquisite whiteness.

The Angel Mathias spoke unto me:

"Humble Servant, settle here,

for this is holy land."

"Sow crops, tend sheep,

and erect a house of worship,"

"and verily ye shall prosper,

for the Scepter of Power is in thy hand."

And yet, as I stand before

ye in sacred testimony,

I see unholiness creeping into the fold.

As with the Lord, the work

of the Devil is never done.

Using God and your neighbors,

protects you from wandering

into the arms of Satan whose schemes,

whose machinations are never-ending.

We must hold fast and root-out

the false prophets.

And when the Devil approaches in

whatever cunning form he desires,

I shall strike him down

with the Sword of Righteousness

and set God's house in order.

Is anybody thirsty?

- Thank you.

- You're lucky I found you.

- Hey! Give us some, give us some.

- Smell that thing a mile away.

- You can have some if you like.

- Well, that is very kind of you.

- This your land?

- This is Holy Land.

I am the prophet Josiah

and I am God's steward upon it.

- We was just passing through.

- Trespassers.

- Oh, no, sir.

- No? Poachers, then.

No, carpenter by trade.

My brother Jacob here is under my care.

So, trespasser, poacher and carpenter,

a man of prodigious talent.

It not concern ya, it

don't concern ya, yeah?

What?

We've fallen on terribly hard times.

Wagon busted a wheel several days back,

and then our horse he

just up and died on us.

That's terrible.

I'm headin' on up to Santa

Fe to meet my wife...

and was plannin' on paying you

for this lamb once we...

How exactly were you planning

on paying for that...

Sending the money to The Tree perhaps?

Or address it to The Great

Winds of the Prairie?

My wife is a relation to the Governor...

- Money is of no concern.

- The Governor?

The man, who by reputation, is as rich

as Croesus, and he's allowing

his relatives to walk around like vagabonds.

This is shocking to me.

- It's the truth.

- Uh, huh.

We are royalty, we are

royalty in these parts.

The Lord does not believe in actions

without consequences.

- You understand.

- It's just two sheep. This one here and one yesterday.

Stealing is a sin, where

you come from, is it not?

- Yes, it is.

- And what, pray tell, are the wages of sin?

- I do not recall.

- What about your idiot brother?

Does he recall the wages of sin?

I may not, but I would not

tell you 'though if I did.

Perhaps if you two thieves had paid

a little more attention in Sunday school,

and a little less time playing

Hide Your Finger in Your Sister's Cunt,

- you might know that.

- This is our camp, you are not welcome here.

I will destroy you.

Hush, Jacob, you silly, crippled fool.

For the wages of sin are... death.

Daniel!

That is good.

- Shit.

- Drink?

- You drink.

- I haven't missed yet.

Double or quit.

All right.

Stop. There ya go. Here ya go.

- There?

- Um-huh!

- Sure?

- Yeah!

- Finish the bottle.

- Ain't enough bullets.

- I'm tired of your tricks.

- Those are the rules.

- One squeeze, one miss, one drink.

- I'm not drinking anymore.

Just close your eyes.

Be a good woman and

do what your husband says to you.

Ready?

Put down that gun.

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