The Comancheros Page #3

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- He'll be right back.

Say, how do you spell "Louisiana"?

L-o-u-i...

- What do you wanna know for?

- I'm writing my pa a letter.

"Captain Jake went to pick up a prisoner

wanted by the state of Louisiana."

"He came back with a mule and

a split head and no prisoner."

I might have a "PS" for your pa.

"Dear Mulehead. We didn't beat this

boy enough when he was growing up."

- Major.

- Hi, Jake.

- I got a little surprise for you.

- Yeah?

Yeah. Something that may prove that

theory you've been bending our ears with.

- You mean a gang running the Comanches?

- Yeah.

Picked up a fella with

a wagonload of guns.

Come on back here.

I'm sorry.

Between you and me, I feel

a sight better I was stopped.

Stopped before I went off and done

some fool thing I might be ashamed of.

Like them guns. Wouldn't be right

if they fell into the wrong hands.

Might even got to the Comanches. Now I

look back on it, I can see how bad it was.

That's how come that I give myself up.

Yup. After breaking one ranger's jaw and

slicing up two others with a bowie knife.

I feel bad about that.

I wasn't using my head.

You used everything else.

Feet, fists and teeth.

Yes, sir. But them

rangers sure won me over.

If I'd have knowed men like that, I might

never have fell in with bad companions.

Those are the fellas we wanna

hear about, those bad companions.

And it's my Christian duty

to tell you everything I know.

Which ain't nothin'.

Well, the truth is I

ran into a man in Yuma.

He said I'd get the best price

for my guns in Sweetwater.

Said if I'd go down to Sweetwater, check

in a hotel, I'd be got in touch with.

But I never did find out who.

And that's the gospel truth.

You still don't know

where you got those guns.

I've been beatin' my

head tryin' to remember.

If I could only find that bill o' sale.

Those guns were stolen from the

quartermaster depot on Fort Sill.

No! Well, then the man who sold 'em to

me, he must have been mixed up in it.

If I'd have knowed that, I

sure would have reported it.

I think he's telling the

truth about one thing.

It's the first time he

brought guns into Texas.

And the last. Bless you

for believing me, sir.

I believe you because I know where

you spent the last five years.

- The Yuma Territorial Prison.

- Well, yes, sir.

But they had a right to lock

me up. I done a bad thing.

What with me not never having no

schooling and knowing no better.

But now I'm all straightened

out. I been saved by the law.

Maybe the Comanche contact

man won't know him by sight.

You want me to take his place? Take the

guns to Sweetwater and

meet the contact man?

Hey, that ain't a bad idea.

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