Un Minuto Per Pregare, Un Instante Per Morire (A Minute to Pray, a Second to Die)


You're hurt.

No, not a scratch.

Our lousy luck.

Well. You're still breathing.

aren't you?

Where's McCord?

What's he Worth alive?

$500... same as he is dead.

Good. He'll be a lot less trouble

that Way.

Their guns, Fred.

Y'all Were lookin' for a laugh?

Well. Maybe this'll tickle you.

Pa! Lie quiet. Pa.

Pa! You're hurting me. Pa!

Hey, Pete.

Listen to this...

Any and all outlaws who of

their own free will...

apply to the office of

Roy W. Colby...

U.S. Marshal, Town of Tascosa,

territory of New Mexico...

will be granted amnesty. Whereby

this government...

undertakes to wipe all crimes of

which they stand accused...

from the record henceforward

and forever.

Signed, Lemuel Carter, Governor.

Amnesty. l never thought l'd live

to see the day.

lt's rotten!

HoW come?

Man strays from the righteous path...

he has to be made to pay for it.

lt don't do tryin' to pretend that

a skunk don't smell.


Take off your hat When a gentleman

enters the room.

Hey, Clay. These fellas must think

a lot of you.

They got your picture all over

the place.

Hey, l must be gettin' up in

the World.

Ten grand.

You're still only Worth $500.

l think l'm better-lookin' than

you are.

Yeah. Sure.

Stay put, fellas.

Right over there.

Hey, Fred.

Look at hoW sWeet they're

being to us.

Get some Whiskey for

Father Santana.


Come on, Fred. Let's go.

Hey, Beaver Head's to the north.

We're heading for the mission noW.

But We're being folloWed, Clay.

l need to see Santana.

Look, Clay. l don't like to

say anything...

but if it's about your arm,...

you'd be better off going to a

doctor than that priest.

Who said anything about my arm?


The mission's that Way!

This Way's longer, but it's safer!

What about it, Santana?

He Won't talk.

Do like the good book says...

Knock, and it shall be opened

unto you.

Didn't you like the Whiskey the

man brought you?

What Whiskey? l don't drink.

McCord thinks different.

Took a Whole sleW of bottles

for you...

back at the mule station.

We come here to Wrap him up

in a box...

and hand him to the Marshal.

Thou shalt not kill, my son.

Unless there's a price on his head.

That makes it legal, instead

of just fun.

We're Working for the laW.

Listen good. Maybe We beat

McCord here.

But soon as he arrives...

you bring him right into

the church.

Get me?

Try to cross me, and l promise...

you've got a date upstairs With

your boss... for free.

Stay put here.

Hey, Padre...

l Wanna shoW you something make

you feel good.

l mean. You don't think We'd

drag a fella's body...

all over the place for Weeks before

We bury him, do you?

Not sanitary.

So. We just take his head.

l don't like that. Sean.

Bad luck to plug padres.

They're not Worth a cent.

Any priest buddies up

With an outlaW...

l automatically excommunicate him...

and ordain myself.

Not yet.

What'd We come here for?

So you could confess?

Get outside and keep him busy.

No priest's gonna cure What

ails you. Clay.

What you need is a real doctor.

Yeah. But priests keep their

mouths shut.

l see What you mean.

Well. Plenty of padres in

Old Mexico.

Let's get goin'.

Peons'll be croWdin' in here

any second.

This is Where We split, Fred.

Just like that?

Without me, you're a dead man.

Adios, Fred.

And don't folloW me.

Are you sure you looked


Not a soul for miles.

They'll never get through here.

That's for sure.

You two watch that roadblock.

Marshal Colby said shoot on sight.

Especially the Escondido Bunch.

Don't you worry about that,

l got my orders.

What about you. Men?

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    "Un Minuto Per Pregare, Un Instante Per Morire (A Minute to Pray, a Second to Die)" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 27 Feb. 2021. <https://www.scripts.com/script/un_minuto_per_pregare,_un_instante_per_morire_(a_minute_to_pray,_a_second_to_die)_22486>.

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