
Wild Bill
- R
- Year:
- 1995
- 98 min
- 94 Views
(woman)? What a fellowship
What a joy divine
Leaning on the everlasting arms
What a blessed peace
What a joy is mine
Leaning on the everlasting arms
Leaning on Jesus
Leaning on Jesus
(man) His funeral was
on a blistering hot August afternoon,
just outside the town of Deadwood.
I suppose there was a rough justice to it,
the way he met his end after sending
so many others to early graves.
It didn't make the moment easier
on any of his friends.
I don't know why he never slept in my bed
sinced he come to Deadwood.
Only got interested once.
The timing was just wrong.
Too much had happened to him
before he got here.
All of us were. He had
that kind of effect on people.
I got a feeling maybe in some ways
you knew him best, Charley.
(glass smashes)
You know, I don't mind you shootin'
glasses off of my dog's head, Marshal,
but fondlin' him like that,
you'll ruin him for fightin'.
That dog's bred for fightin'.
You oughta understand that.
You've had more fights than anybody.
(Charley) He fashioned himself as
just an ordinary man, in no way special.
But, of course, that was a deception.
By luck or design, it had fallen to him
to play the hero's part,
and, to the very end,
he embraced his fate.
Two damn weeks,
ain't a damn sight of a buffalo.
Never thought it possible.
How's a man supposed to make a livin'?
(tribal chanting)
(horse whinnies)
That's a funeral platform.
Must be on some kind of vigil
for the dead Indian next to him.
(speaks Sioux)
Says he's a Sioux,
named He Who Whistles.
He's a chief.
That's his wife lying there next to him.
They had to leave a tribe.
They couldn't find no buffalo.
Figured since he'd failed his people
and he'd failed his wife,
he had to go off
and find his own medicine.
Said he had a dream.
Had to fight a white-eye with long hair.
That looks to be you, Bill.
What the hell does this whistler
want to fight me for?
His religion.
He wins, his people live.
He's gonna hang your scalp
on a lodge pole.
Tell him I'm sorry
about his woman and his tribe.
(speaks Sioux)
Tell him thanks, and I'll be on my way.
(war cry)
He wants me to show some colour.
Fine.
(cocks rifle)
- Don't kill him, Bill.
- Man knows what he wants!
Bad luck to kill an Indian
He chose it!
He must have got more than 20 hides
out there. Winter prime.
Them hides'll fetch a dollar apiece in
Omaha. Let's run him off. What say you?
First feller who shows up today gonna
buy a drink, and you're gonna run him off.
NEBRASKA TERRITORY
Whisky.
It'd be awfully neighbourly
if you was to buy me a drink.
I generally only buy whisky
for my friends.
I don't see no reason why a man
come in here and insult me.
Watch his gun!
Oh! I'm shot!
You oughta understand,
you ever touch another man's hat...
TOMMY DRUM'S SALOON
HAYS CITY, 1870
"Ma, Ma, who's my pa?"
"Wild Bill Hickok. Ha-ha-ha."
Please, Mr Wild Bill. Don't shoot me now.
I ain't done nothin' wrong.
- Don't shoot me, Mr Wild Bill.
- What's this about?
I kicked some drunk soldier's ass around
about a week ago. Threw him in jail.
Figure these are his friends.
- Maybe you oughta apologise...
- I don't apologise!
Not to you or anybody else. Not ever.
Shouldn't touch another man's hat.
I ain't wearin' no pistols.
(woman screams)
Aaaagh!
Take 'em, Bill. They're gonna kill you.
(woman screams)
(soldier) Damn you! Kill him!
(band plays "The Yellow Rose of Texas")
ABILENE, KANSAS
(whooping)
Yee-ha!
Yee-ha!
(silence)
- Just funning, Marshal.
- Where are you from?
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"Wild Bill" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 5 Mar. 2021. <https://www.scripts.com/script/wild_bill_23464>.