All language subtitles for Gunless. 2010. STV. DVDRip. XviD-Kata

(gunshot)

(soft piano music)

(music fading)

(man groaning softly)

- You, uh...

speaky...

English?

- Do you?

(sniffing)

You stink.

- You don't say.

Oh...

think maybe you could unsnare me?

Oh... Oh.

Better untie me.
(grunting)

(groaning)

- Pardon?

- Ah, forget it.

God... dammit.

Where the hell am I?

- Barclay's Brush.
- Where?

- In the Dominion of Canada.

(grunting softly)

- Just when you thought
it couldn't get any worse. Huh.

- Bonjour.

How can I help you?

(sighing)

- Bullets.

- Mon Dieu, we are...

we are fresh out of bullets.
Um, perhaps I could interest you

in some tea?
A little, uh...

"special tea"?
- As a matter of fact,

we do carry ammunition.

What calibre, sir?

- Ah-ah-ah! No poaching.
My customer, my side.

You can't talk to him.
- Oh...

how clumsy of me.

I've spilled bullets
all over the counter.

Good day, sir.
How can I be of assistance?

- I need cartridges,
45.40 Colt.

- That will be $1.10,
or a penny a bullet.

- The thing is that I'm a lick strapped
at the moment.

Maybe we could settle up this account

a little later...
- Sorry, no credit.

Your rules.

Oh, I see.
It's okay when you break the rules.

But when I bend them just a little,
we have to sever the partnership.

- There is an enormous distinction

between having
a flexible policy on credit

and contravening the law!

Prohibition, Claude,
means no liquor.

- Salaud.
- Thank you very much,

Mr., um...

"The Montana Kid."

- I'll show you prohibition!

Free drinks!

Free whiskey

for anyone on my side...

(argument covered by music)

...to some stranger who smells

like he came out the back end
of a pig is a retail genius!

- Explain.
(argument drowned out by music)

- He walks out that door,
you never see this bum again.

(gulping)

- I'm not partial to insults.

But...

...seeing as one of you

was clearly raised by a mother
of a fiercely hideous countenance,

I am affected by a rare blush of...

...compassion.

Put me down for three more.

And one carrot.

Son of a...

(flies buzzing)

Ahem. Hey.

Ahem. Hey there, you two.

Either of you seen my mount?

It's a chestnut

with a Cheyenne roll on the saddle.
I left him just back...

- Whoa, steady on there, mister.

- You just tell me,
have you seen my animal?

- Jack collected a stray.

Blacksmith?

Behind you?

(horse neighing)

(whinnying furiously)

- That's my horse.
(gun cocking)

I believe he's in pain.

- Reckon so. A stone bruise.

- So first you thieve him,
then deliver him to torment?

- I retrieved a stray.

- I've shot men for less.

- You need to reign in that temper,
mister.

I ain't done.

He forged that hoof.

- You ain't touchin' him.

- I don't got time
for a common nuisance.

- What did you just call me?
- A nuisance.

- No, before that.
What did you call me?

- Common?
- Oh...

you just stepped over the line.
Hey, whoa, whoa!

What the he...?

What kind of man
would pick up another man?!

Hey, you! Hey!

I ain't finished with you,
you big ape.

- Swear to God, I ain't got...
- What the hell?!

(grunting)

(gun cocking)

- Get...

your...

gun.

(groaning)

(groaning)

I'm callin' you out.

(knuckles cracking)

I said I'm callin' you out.

(slow western music)

Hey, what...?

Ahem.

You mind telling that big ape in there
I'm callin' him out here.

- Jack! The windmill...

(western music)

Ah, there's no rush.

It'll take a couple of days
to fashion the windmill. Come on.

Jack says to tell you he can't oblige.
He's got no gun.

- He's a liar.
- Is not. The man's an ironsmith.

And he's right. You stink.

- That man stole my horse.

- He was trying to help.

- You tell him to get a gun on his belt.
At sundown, we'll square this up.

- He says not to be riding him
for at least two days.

- Sundown.

- Your bottom is bleeding.

- Yeah, I know.

(grunting softly)
(screaming)

(screaming)
- Well, hello again.

I'd say a.36 calibre.
Am I right?

- I didn't get a good look at it
on the way in.

- Well, did you get a good look
at what hit you on the head?

Because that is a peevish gash.
- Ah, God! Mother of Mary! Mary!

- Well, it's Dr. Angus Schiffron,
actually.

Well, you can call me Mary, then.
- Where's my gun?

- Hold on, Tex.
I still gotta patch up that gluteus.

- Where?
- Uh, your gluteus, in your backside.

- No. Where is my gun?

I appreciate you tendin' to my wounds,
doc, but I ain't got no money.

- I always pull the first bullet
out of a man's posterior pro bono.

It's a time-honoured tradition.

Now, if you just let me
patch up that wound,

I can get...
- What did you do?

- I had to get to your injury, eh?

- You cut a man's breeches?

- Uh... uh, sir? That is not an area
that braves infection with grace!

No one understands

(western music)
(children laughing)

A wanted man

'Cause you live by a code
Known by the ghosts of the dead

And you gotta keep movin'
With that price on your head

Still no time for a friend
(muttering)

- Dammit.

Get outta my way. I'll shoot ya.
When any stranger could be the end

Move, move.

- Well, Mrs. Taylor, assembling
the drive in that old windmill,

it would be a chore even for a man
well-versed in matters mechanical.

- If you're referring to my husband,
you know he's long gone.

- No. No, no, no.
I'm only saying

that it's mechanically complex.
Perhaps you need...

- Pants! I need pants.
- Do you mind?

- I'll just be a moment,

Mr. Montana.

- Pardon my idiot partner's rudeness.

Can I offer you a splash
of my best Scottish tea?

And some delicious ground nuts?

- We specifically agreed
that I was to sell the dry goods

and you were to sell...
- Boys, please,

I have to get a crop in this season.
The part will have a pointy thing

that goes in here.
Please?

- Very well, Mrs. Taylor.
Now, you have to give me

a part name,
so I know what to order.

- You just need a shear pin, all right?

- Like you know.
- Yeah, I do. Now, pants.

- What kind of trousers
can we order for you today,

Mr. Montana?
- Order?

No, I need 'em now.

That butcher up there
cut my pants, on pro bono.

- Yes. Well, all our apparel
is purchased on order.

- What the hell kinda general store
is this?

- They stock soap.

- Soap and escargots.

Lots and lots of escargots!

- I specifically ordered tin nails
and they sent me tin snails.

- So do I absolutely need a shear pin,
or can I just use a nail or something?

- You could use your nose,
for all I care.

(western music)

(knuckles cracking)

- Talk has it
that you're the Montana Kid.

- That's right.

- "Among America's
most notorious gunslingers are:

Wild Bill Hickok, John Wesley Harding
and the Montana Kid."

Are you that "the Montana Kid"?

- I reckon so.

- Says here you killed six men.

- Eleven.

- You don't look like a kid.
- Nicknames have a way of sticking.

Decades, even.
Ain't that right?

- I guess so.

- Is it true you're proposing
a gunfight today, with Jack?

- Sundown.

(suspenseful music)

(cheering)

- Showdown with the Montana Kid!
- Right here in Barclay's Brush!

- The town hasn't seen
this much excitement

since Larry accidentally set fire
to his prized ewe!

Can Jack duel with my Winchester?

'Cause he doesn't have one.
- Hang on, hang on!

What about mine?
Mine's practically brand new. See?

(hat-wearing man sighing)
- What's wrong with you people?

- Yah, what's wrong with you?
It's up to Jack, no?

And he might like my shotgun best.

- It's not a turkey shoot.
It's a gunfight. He needs a pistol.

Where the hell are you from?

- Peterborough.
- Moncton.

- Uppsala.
- Any of you got a Hog Leg like this?

- Well, that's a cattleman's revolver,
isn't it?

Ow. A Peacemaker.
(clicking tongue)

An Equalizer.
(clicking tongue)

A Widowmaker.

- Stop that.
- Yeah...

- Well, does anyone got one?
- Mm-hmm.

- When the cowboys ride through,

they have pistols. And rum.
But otherwise, um...

- No, truth is,
I don't know anyone who has, uh...

uh, what do call it?
- A Peacemaker!

- Stop it.

- There's just not much call
for one around here.

We got rifles for huntin',
shotguns for birds.

Pistols, well,
they're just for... you know.

- Killing people.
Seems to me Jack not having a gun

is your problem, not his.
- Oh, my problem is you.

- So why don't you just shoot him?
- Why don't I just shoot you?

- Same reason.

I'm unarmed.

So that is the code, isn't it?

You can't shoot an unarmed man.
- Mm-hmm.

- I'm thinkin' I can make an exception.

- Tell you what... shear pin,

I've got a pistol you can use.
I mean, it needs fixing, though.

The handle's cracked
and the hammer's broke.

- Fine.

- And you don't get it for nothing.
Deal is, you get the gun

if you help me
get my windmill up and running.

- Why don't you get your husband
to get it up?

- Do you want your showdown or not?

(western music)

(man grunting)

(groaning)

(groaning)

- Hey, you wanna go back?
By some direct conspiracy of fate,

it seems you missed a bump.
(groaning)

(rattling)
Ow!!! That's it!

That's it! Whoa!

Whoa! Stop!
- Whoa...

- Stop! Ah...

I think we'll take it... by foot
from here.

- Suit yourself.

It's, uh, just over that ridge.

And stay off that horse.

Come on, Peaches.
(clicking tongue)

- What is it with these people, huh?
No sidearms,

a medico who shreds your clothing,

a saloon with...
teacups and catalogues,

and that...

woman.
(horse snorting)

A mouthpiece.

Hey, I'm not talkin' to myself here.
Get up with me.

Come on.

So what do you figure?
How far are we from a real country?

(horse snorting)

Oh, yeah, yeah, you're right.

You're right, he'll be comin' for me.

Ten years of doggin' me -
he's not gonna let a border stop him.

We'll make tracks
as soon as we get things squared.

(horse snorting)
Well, you know,

you're not so sweet-smellin' yourself,
pal.

You got mealy old carrot breath.

(horse whinnying)

Well, you do.

You stink.

(thunder rumbling softly)

(donkey braying)

- Put your horse in here.

It should be safe.

Bunk in there.
There's an oil lamp

just inside the door.
- Outhouse is made out of dirt.

- It was good enough for me
and my husband for over a year.

- Where's the gun?
- Time enough for that in the morning.

- We had a deal
and I want that gun...

right now.

- Keeps what's left of your pants on.

Here.

(cocking)

- That's bad.

Why do you even bother
carrying this?

- To frighten away bothersome folk
mostly.

Pistol's not just for killing people.
It's also real good for scaring 'em.

- This isn't scary.

There was a time

(western music)

When you believed

When everything

Was springtime green

Before you learned
that life was mean

And nothin's

Ever what it seems

Mother of Mary.

Ow.

You sure that ain't dry?
- There's water!

It's just deep!

That's why this windmill's
gonna be a godsend!

See, I figure if we construct
the windmill here,

then the water'll be convenient
to both the livestock and the crop.

- Well, I'd... I'd put the...

the windmill right here
on top of the well.

That'd be the shorter straw,

then you could pipe the water
wherever you want - the house,

the pens, out in the field.

- You volunteering to lay all that pipe,
shear pin?

- Oh, no, ma'am, no.

The deal was,
just help build the windmill.

- Well, then why don't you do that
and run along.

Stow your ideas.

(soft music)

- Mouthpiece.

(music)

What... what is this supposed to be?

- Meat?

- Hmm.

- Mm...

Argh, you know, it's really
unpleasant to sit downwind of you.

What is that stench, anyway?

- Before they got to hangin' me,
they cleaned my plow pretty good.

They lashed me to a stumpin' post
in a pig pen,

left me there for three days,
waiting for him.

- Who's him?

- There's a bounty on my head.

It's common knowledge
north of the Mason-Dixon

that there's a particularly hostile
disfigured individual

who's been huntin' for that reward
for a long, long time.

So these folk thought it prudent
that they'd wait,

and then they would split the bounty
with him.

After the lynchin', the party got bored
and they kinda wandered off,

then the other half decided to proceed,
but they didn't know nothing

about a hanging,
so they picked a dead tree.

- So why is there a price on your head?
Huh?

You shoot someone
who was tending to your horse?

- You shouldn't make light
of what you know nothin' about.

(up-tempo western music)

(music fading)

(man humming)

- Ow!

Shoot!

Ah... Well, good day, eh?

You, uh, hoofing
all the way in from Jane's?

- Yeah. I started early.
Skipped breakfast.

- It's funny you should mention that,

because the missus would like
to have you for dinner this evening.

(chuckling)
The truth is,

she is chomping at the bit

to meet
a bona-fide American gunfighter.

- She's not plannin'
on servin' that thing, is she?

- Uh, no. Uh...

but I reckon...

Jane's cooking
probably suits you just fine.

Shall we say 6:00?
- Yeah.

- Yeah.

- Isn't, uh, skinnin' stuff
kind of an odd pastime

for a healer?
- Not really.

'Cause once a being's dead,
it's nothin' but dead.

But I suppose you know that.

- Whoa!
- Pardon me.

(man groaning)
Oh, my, that's gonna leave a mark.

- Hey, Mr. Montana, please,

sidle on up to the counter.

Perhaps I can interest you in... this.

It's a, uh, full-bodied little number.

The bouquet's a tad intimidating...

- No, I just need...
- Oh, no, no, no.

It contains laudanum,
don't you know.

A couple of these,
you'll be baying at the moon.

- You're selling spirits!
- Cough medication, Claude.

General stores sell cough medication.
- Idiot!

- Look...

I need a part for a gun.

It's a hammer

for a Navy Colt.44 calibre.
And I need bullets.

Not that many. It'd be a miracle
if he gets off one shot.

- Yeah, showdown with a.44!
(clicking tongue)

- Stop it.
- Mm...

Uh-oh.

- Oh, no, gimme those.

Gimme those.

I am warning you.
(man coughing): Unarmed!

- Shut up. If you step out that door...
(door closing)

Damn.

- Just follow my finger to the...

Okay, just follow my finger
to the right.

Just follow my finger to the right.

- My grandfather says he would
be honoured to repair your pants.

He says you may wear a pair of his
until yours are repaired.

- Yeah, yeah.

Look, look.

(slow western music)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

- Railroad workers.

My grandparents let them rest here
between construction lines.

Giving food and shelter to these people
is an honour.

They no speaky Englishy.

(speaking Chinese)

- My grandfather says
he would be honoured

if you would use this tub

for bathing.

- Mm.

Ahem. It is that bad, isn't it?

(creaking)

(soft suspenseful music)

(screaming)

Never compromise a man's lifeline.

- I'm sorry!
Grandpa told me to give you food!

I thought you were asleep!

Ahem. Hey, listen, listen, kid.

(whimpering)
It's all right.

It's all right. Honest.

Hey, look at me.

You know, that chow looks pretty good.

Do you think maybe
you could get me a fresh bowl?

Ladies.

(soft music)

Oh, don't start.

Why are you even here?
- Standing invitation every Wednesday.

Doc tells me we're dining partners.
- Just great.

- Nice blouse, by the way.
- Okay, shut up.

Let's get this over with.
(snickering)

- My mother wore
something like that once.

- Very funny.
- Well, she did!

- Well, come on in.
- Yeah.

- Is that a blouse?

- Be sure to save room for dessert,
Mr. Montana.

Beatrice brought a dish
of her apple cobbler.

It is a treat beyond compare!
- Oh, it's nothing.

Beth is being humble
in her praise.

She's the real baker
in Barclay's Brush.

Come July,
when the strawberries ripen,

she makes a strawberry-rhubarb pie
you'd simply kill for.

- Hmm.
(nervous laughter)

- Beatrice.

Uh, how about the question
of how many men you've shot?

The Canadian Monthly
specifically reports six.

- It must be so exciting,
living wild on the open range,

happy and free,
sleeping under a canopy of stars,

every moment an adventure?

- The Wild West!
- Stop it.

- Larry, we talked about this.
Please don't badger our guest.

(chuckling)

- Ahem.

Eleven.

I have killed 11 men.

And they each earned their bullet
of their own accord.

I've been called out four times.

I've responded in self-defence twice.

- I think duelling
is incredibly romantic!

- Dear...

- Three men called me a cheat
in a Kansas City card game.

And one time I came across
a man beating a dog.

Bad. I mean, real bad.

- Gravy?

- But the first man I killed, well...

the first man I killed

killed my pa.

He had black eyes, black beard,
black soul.

He and my pa got into it

over an unbranded calf
my pa knew to be his.

So they settled matters with fisticuffs
and my pa gave him a whoopin'.

But as he rode away,

that lying coward shot him in the back.

- That is so sad!

- Yeah.
So the next day,

I rode up to his porch.
I called him out,

and my first shot
punched him in the gut.

Now, if you know
anything about killing -

I'm sure you all do -

you know that a gut shot
is the ugliest way

to do it. Keeps you livin'
just long enough to...

to experience

every second of pain.

And after an hour

of him kinda whinin' and moanin'
and whimperin',

I had it.
So I shot him right here.

That was that.

He was dead.

- So then Jack
will make it an even dozen.

- He's not shooting Jack.

- Yeah, I am.

I tell you what...

I'd kill for some more potatoes.

(horse snorting)
(military drum cadence)

(flute music)

- Ah... Dang.

Good morning, sir!

Ahem. Corporal J.T. Kent,

Northwest Mounted Police,
Fort McNeil troop.

And this is my liaison and guide,
K'Wala.

- People call me Two Dogs.

- And?
- As per the standing directive

of Her Majesty's government
in the Dominion of Canada,

I am making the rounds
of the southwest sector

of our allotted region.

Thank you.

(laughing)

- And?

- And, as part of my rounds,

I'm under instructions
to check in with all adults -

men... new men... and women -

and households in my zone.

- So...?

- So.

How's it going?
- Good.

- Any problems?
- None.

- Concerns?
- No.

- Ahem. Very well, then.

Sign here, please.

- What is this?

- A rounds journal.
You sign it after I check in.

- You ain't from around here, are ya?
- America.

- Oh... Still have to sign.

We need your true full name,
please.

(western music)
- Mm...

- Not a smuggler, are you?
- No.

- Whiskey trader?
- No.

- Horse thief.
- No.

- All right. Good day, sir.

Oh, one more thing...

Sean.
- Sean?!

(sighing)
- How long will you be staying

in Canada?

- I could leave by sundown,
if you'd loan me that gun of yours

for a spell.
- Regrettably, I must decline, sir.

That would be a flagrant contravention

of rule number 44
of the constables' code

of behaviour,
hygiene and equipment care.

- That's, uh, rule 45, there, chief.

- Okay. Thank you, K'Wala.

Ahem. Miss Taylor?

- You gotta remember
to tie up your horse, there, chief.

- Okay, K'Wala, just...
Thank you.

- Jonathan?

- Oh... no.

Ma'am.

(flute music)

- Sean.

- Two Dogs.

- Hey, Sean,

break's over.
- Whoa!

Whoa! Come on! Come back!

(screaming)

- Hang on.

Hold on. Here you go.

- I'm gonna fall!
- You won't. I won't let you.

Come on. That's it.

I got ya.

See? You're gonna be okay.

(cracking)

That's bad.

(screaming)

- Oh.
- Ah!

(groaning)
- Oh, Lord.

- Ow.
- Is it broken?

- Oh, I don't reckon so.

- Pissing elks! It bleeding well is!

(western music)

- I think I see why...
you're so convinced

I won't be shootin' that hoof-shaper.

You been conspirin'
to cripple my gun hand.

- If you'd been helping me
like you promised,

I wouldn't have fallen.

- That what happened
to your husband?

Did you accidentally kill him
while he was tendin' to the chores?

- It wasn't an accident.

- What?

- It wasn't an accident.

I thought we came out here
to start a farm and a family.

Turns out that put the fear in him.

Took to wearing that gun,

swaggering around like some...

dime-novel jackass.

He became a horrible drunk, too.

Then, one day,

I realized I could run the farm
a hell of a lot easier by myself.

So I shot him.

- You shot him?

- Yeah.

With his own gun.

Square in the gut.

Now, if you know
anything about killing -

and I'm sure that you do -

you'll know that a gut shot
is the ugliest way to do it.

Took him... hours to die.

- Hmm...

(grunting)

- 'Afternoon, Larry!

- Howdy, Jane!

Hey, Sean!

- Better hop to it
if you're gonna make it by 6:00!

- Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah!
I'll see ya there!

(music)

- Aristotle said,
"We are what we do repeatedly.

We do not act rightly because..."
- This ain't a social,

this is schoolin'.
- I never said it was a social,

I said "gathering."
- And it cost you two bits

you paid to listen...
- Shhh!

- Mm... What is wrong
with these people?

...The very truth
of who we are as people

is defined by what we do
again and again.

Aristotle would say

that since Larry farms every day,
Larry is a farmer.

- Far-mer.

- Yes.

And one who teaches every day

is therefore a teacher.
- Tea-cher.

(laughter)
- Aristotle would also say

it is about who we are as people.

A man might claim to be virtuous,

but he is not virtuous unless
he consistently acts with great virtue.

Yes, Jack.

- So let's say a man shoots 11 men
and then he says

each man deserves to die,
according to, um...

- Aristotle.
...A- Aristotle,

is he still a common killer?

- What'd you just call me?

- Killer.
- No, before that.

- Common.
- Yeah, that's it.

You just stepped over the line, again.

Outside.

(coughing): Unarmed.

- What is that? You cough,
you say "unarmed."

Do you think I can't hear that?
- Sean?

Is there something you would like
to add to this discussion?

- Kil-ler.
- All right, stop. That's enough.

- Sean?

- Look,

I see fit to live by a code.

By a set of unspoken laws that men -
real men - understand.

Now, just 'cause I got the mettle
to stand up and make things square,

that's not a reason
to brand me common,

I don't care what that book says.

- Common, uncommon
you're still a killer,

and you're set on killing me.

- He's not killing anyone.
- Oh, yes,

I am.
- Oh, believe him,

Mrs. Taylor, that gun'll get fixed
and he'll call me out.

And we all know damn good and well

that I don't stand a chance.

He'll shoot me dead.

And there's nothing uncommon
about that.

I'll just be number 12.
- Well, Canadian Monthly

would technically make you seven.
- At least I know I'll be going

to a better place
than you'll ever see!

- You don't know nothin' about me.

- Darn it! I...

I can see right inside you.
It's as plain

as that Colt
you like to wear on your hip.

Gun's a magnet for death.
Hell, some would say

you're lookin' to die.

("laughing")

- That's just wrong.

A gun is just a tool.
It's like...

any other tool.

- A tool designed for killin' people.

- No, it's all what you do with it.
- Well, yes.

But if a man walks into my shop
with a shovel, I don't think: Oh!

He might kill me!
- Shovel could kill you.

He could hit you on the head with it.

- Or jab you.
- You could say that about anything.

About a rock, even.
- But nobody ever comes in with a rock.

Besides, a rock is not a tool.

- Tell the Indians that.
They've been using rocks as tools

for years.
- Yeah, you could smash somebody

in the face with a rock.
- Or jab someone.

- Can't stab somebody with a rock.
- Tell the Indians.

They've been stabbing people with rocks
for years.

- What about a rope?
Hitting and jabbing somebody

with a rope wouldn't do anything.
- Don't be so sure.

- You could strangle someone
with a rope.

- You could take it and rub it
over somebody's eye, pushing hard.

(military drum cadence)

- Ahem.

Tell me somethin'.

Is this entire country insane,
or is it just this town?

- Seems you have quite a history.
- Oh.

Oh, I see.
You've come to run me out of town.

- Mm.

- You haven't broken any laws
in this country.

And as far as we're aware,

there are no extradition warrants
out for your arrest.

- So I'm free to go about my business?
- As for this...

showdown with Jack
everyone's talking about,

you best know
there are no duelling laws

in this country.
We call it murder.

(door opening)

Don't you dare to even hurt her,
Mr. Kid.

'Evening!
Company's having a dance Saturday

to welcome the new provincial
constabulary to the area.

Opportunity to wear that
lovely blue dress again, Miss Taylor.

- That's so sweet
that you remember, Jonathan!

- Well, not something you forget.

- Well, thank you, Corporal.

I will definitely try to attend.
- Okay.

Ah!

- What do you say, shear pin?

Can you dance?
- Oh. I'm sorry to disappoint, ma'am,

but I intend
to be a charmin' memory by then.

- Hope to see you Saturday.

All are welcome.

Sir.

(western music)

(up-tempo western music)

(music fading)
(dog barking)

- Just...

answer...

question!
Seen... him?!

Seen him?!

(barking)
- You find that distracting?

- Yes!
- I know I do.

(dog whimpering)
I did.

Now, let me explain.

We are business folk.

We catch bad men.

And we get paid for our efforts.

That man in particular

is worth a considerable sum
to our enterprise.

I'm gonna ask you one more time.

Have you seen this man?
(man speaking Chinese)

- He say we see no one!

No one!

(mockingly): No one, no one...

(slow suspenseful music)

She has.

Get her.
(woman screaming)

- Oh, yeah, Cutler's on our trail.
I can feel him.

We gotta change tack.

All right, here's the plan.

We'll ride east...

and then south.

When Cutler picks up the scent,
which he will,

he will start northwest.

He always sweeps northwest.
Why?

Because he is stupid
and he is predictable and, well...

ever since I shot his ear off,

he kinda...
he kinda leans to the left.

(horse snorting)

What?

(donkey braying)

(Jane shouting)

(soft music)

(sighing)

All right, all right,
all right, all right.

We will stay just...
just a little bit longer,

but it has got to be said...

It has got to be said, Glue,
that you are getting very soft.

I mean, very, very soft.
Yes.

You know, nothin' should surprise me
around here,

but that is a, uh... peculiar perch

upon which to take
one's evening coffee.

Ah.

You're all right?

Well...

...it's a nice spot.

- I feel safe up here.

It's where I'd come
when Stewart got drunk.

Yes. Yeah, that part was true.

- Oh.

- And when he got real mean,
I'd just pull the ladder up and wait.

He'd be too liquored
to climb up after me.

In the months
before he left for good...

...he'd say
that I wasn't even worth the effort.

Do you like that?

Not even worth the effort to beat.

(laughing)

What Jack said in the schoolhouse...

Well, was he right about you?

(snorting softly)

Are you looking to get killed?

(snorting softly)

- What would one wear
to a Northwest Mounted shindig?

(soft guitar music)

(slow western music)

Oh...

You look...

You look very...

The cart's ready.

- You look rather presentable yourself.

But I was growing quite fond
of the Oriental look.

- Well, thank you.

I had to eat an entire crate of snails
before Carl'd give me the loan of this.

- I don't know if that makes me
flattered or alarmed.

(slow western music)

(music fading)

(music playing in the distance)

(reel music)
- Whoo!

(drink spilling)
- Ah!

- Sorry.

Pardon me.

- Whoa!
(Jane giggling)

- It's my father's.

Ahem.

'Evening, Miss Taylor.
- Ah!

- So pleased that you could attend.

- Why, thank you for inviting us,
Jonathan.

- Us?

- Ah, General.
(woman): Whoo!

- Oh, uh, hello, Sean.

Good that you could come.

- Aren't you lookin' right regal.
You know, it's a particular breed of man

who can carry off an outfit like that.
- Huh.

- So, Corporal, did...

you want to show me
the dance floor?

- It's an old saying,
but true nonetheless:

You dance with who brung you.

So, you two, please,

be my guests.
We'll chat later.

(cheering)

- Hello, Beatrice! Hello, Larry!

- Oh, howdy, Jane. Sean.

Wow, aren't you two a sight.

- I'm so pleased to see you both.

- It's all I could do to tear him away

from that damn stump.

- Hey, American.

- Oh, I see you brought your pie.

- You armed?

- I've got pie.

- 'Cause you know it's against the law
for a foreign national

to carry a weapon
in Her Majesty's military posts.

- Yeah, I heard.
Hey, whoa, mind the haunch.

- No gun.
- You know what we do

to murderers
who ride up into our country?

- I never committed murder
against no man.

(wheezing)

(coughing and panting)

- I thought you Canadians
were supposed to be polite.

- Ah!

- Ten hut!
(grunting)

(panting)
- Ooh.

Howdy, General.

- What's happened here?

- Just a little Northwest warning
to our guest... sir.

- Warning? This man
is under no legal restriction here.

- Corporal, he's the Montana Kid.

Best send his type a clear message...

sir.

- Not on my watch.

(Sean grunting)

- It's not just about rules, Jonathan.

Why don't you go cross-reference
the troop manifest or...

something?

- Mr. Lafferty, would you like
to register a formal complaint

against Constable Hughes?
I would be happy

to issue a statement as your witness.

- No. Only thing I'd like
to register is: He hits like a girl.

- Then,

this unfortunate incident...

is closed.

Now pick up that pie.

- Ooh!

(coughing)

(reel music)
- Corporal?

General?
Jonathan, come here.

- On behalf of the superintendent
and all officers under his command,

I want to apologize...

- I need your help here, Jonathan.

Would you, uh...
take over for me?

I fear that Mrs. Taylor here
will be plenty disappointed.

I banged my knee up
on a little, uh...

alfresco dancing lesson.

- Y-yes.

Uh, yes.

It would be my honour and privilege.

- Mm... Mm, laudanum.

- Ma'am.

(slow music)

- Tsk. 'Evening, Jack.

- 'Evening.

How goes the repairs
on that old Patterson?

- It's coming along just fine, Jack.

- Hmm.

(Jane giggling)
- That was the most fun I've had

in a long, long, long, long...
(hiccupping)

...time.

You know, you are looking
pretty spry

for someone with a...
banged-up leg.

- Hmm.
(Jane laughing)

Ooh.

(laughing)

- You know, what you did back there
was very kind.

Some might even say...

it was noble.

(soft music)

- Again, I, uh...

...I wanna thank you
for inviting me to your stomp.

I should tend that horse.

(Jane guffawing)

- You're unarmed,

Montana Kid.

- Ahem. Jane...

...you don't wanna start this.
- Yeah, I do.

I think it's best that you yield,

and take it...

like a man.

(soft music)

(rooster crowing in distance)

(soft music)

(panting)

- Ah... g'day, Sean.

- Are you really tryin' to get rid
of that big old beast,

or you just dodgin' the missus?

- I've been keen to get rid of her.
(panting)

The stump, I mean.
- Oh.

Think I might be able
to give you a hand with that.

- Ah, thanks, Sean.

Yeah... Hell, yeah.

That would be greatly appreciated.

(western music)

(straining)

- Good morning, Sean.
- Good mornin'.

- Good morning, Sean.
Great fun last night.

But it looks like they took your gun
at the fort.

It's a shame.
- Uh, no, they didn't, actually.

I guess I just forgot to strap it on.

(hissing)

(sighing)

(sighing)
- Jack.

- Hoof looks good.

'Afternoon, Miss Alice.

- Good day, Jack.

We are what we do, Sean.

A blacksmith smiths iron.

(slow western music)

- I...

I made dinner.

I thought maybe...
we could eat in my cabin.

- No, thank you.
I'm gonna be ridin' out in the morning.

- I thought that maybe...

...you'd wanna stay a bit.

- You thought wrong.

Everyone around here did.

(soft music)

- We had a deal.

Hey!

You get your gunfight
after my windmill

is up and running.

You tell me why.

I mean, why can't you just...

let it go?

- 'Cause I can't.

'Cause if I let it go now, then...

I should've let it go
when them three guys in Missouri

called me a cheat.
And you tell me,

they died for nothing?

And if I let them guys in Missouri go,
then...

I should've let it go
when that man was whuppin' that dog.

Now, does that sound right to you?

Beatin' on a helpless dog?

If I was able

to let that man go
for beatin' on that mutt,

then...
(sighing)

...there sure as hell is no reason...

I couldn't have just walked away
when I was called out in Wyoming,

or Santa Fe and...

twice in Arizona.

If I was so damn smart
to walk away

when I was called out,
then I should've had the wherewithal

to not use my gun in self-defence -
twice.

(sighing)
And if I should've been able

to avoid that,
then there's no arguable reason

why I couldn't have
just gone to the sheriff...

instead of killin' that man
that whupped my pa.

- I thought he shot your pa.

- Just beat him up.

Broke his jaw and a bloody nose, but...

"Taught a common thief a lesson,"
he said.

How do you like that?

Common.

He was anything but common.

He was my pa.

When I shot that man...

(sighing)

...like it or not,

this is my path.

This is what I do.

And I am what I do.

(slow country music)
'Cause it can all be lost

In the blink of an eye

(music soaring)

It's the longer years
gun by your side

There's a tombstone waitin'
with your name inscribed

But they'll never take you

Alive

Under those wild mountain skies

- Oh, no, no. No, no, no.

(slow western music)

- Hi, Sean.
Your clothes look nice.

- Oh, Miss Adell,

I reckon we're lookin'
at the Montana Kid.

- Get it on your belt.

You go home.
- But...

why?

- I said go home now.

- All right.

- You did a hell of a job,
I'll give you that.

This was a mess.

(sighing)
- Put it in your belt.

When you pull back,
don't jam your thumb in the hammer.

You'll blow your nuts off.

- Sage advice, but I don't think that...

- I said get in the house now!!!

- Just plain mean, you son of a bitch!

- Yeah...

now you're gettin' in the spirit.

All right...

throw down.

- You'll kill me.

- I said draw, Jack.

- Well, what about Jane?

- Look about you, Jack.

People around here been hankerin'
to see a man shot dead in the street.

Best not disappoint. So...

pull your weapon.

Pull it.

(slow western music)

Pull it.

Point it!

Cock the hammer.

Cock that gun, or I swear
the next one'll blow your head off.

(cocking)

Pull it.

Do it!

Do it!!!
- I am!

- Pull it harder!

- I am! It's stuck!

(suspenseful music)

- Goddamn.

It was workin' fine

last night. I don't...

The short stroke?

Did you pull the hammer
all the way back?

- Yes.
- Well, maybe...

Sometimes these conversions,
they get kinda fiddly.

Get all grimed up, you know, with...

- Oh!
- Oh, there we go.

- Ow.

Ooh.

- Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

- Ooh.

Oh...

Ow!!!
- There's more in there.

Bullet fragmented.
- I'm really sorry, Jack.

- Doc! What happened?!

Oh, thank God. I thought you...

(Jack groaning)

You shot Jack?!

You no-good, poxy, bilious...

- Ja...

...son of a weasel!

- Whoa!

- Hey! Just... Hey...

Stop. Stop. Stop it. Stop it.

This was an accident.

- An accident?
- Yeah.

- Oh, thank God.

- Oh, yes, imagine my relief
at being shot in the ass -

by accident!

- Wait a minute.
This puts you square with Jack.

Code-of-the-West-wise.

- Mm, I suppose so.

- Suppo... You suppose?!
You shot me in the ahhh!!!

(groaning)

- What?
(hooves thundering)

What is it?

- Horses and guns.

That's bad.
- Who is it?

Do you know them?

- Ben Cutler, bounty hunter, murderer,
tenacious bastard.

I'm surprised you haven't read about him
in Canadian Monthly.

- There's four of them,
you damn fool. Are you that good?

(Sean mumbling): I don't know.
- Run.

I want you to go. Please.

Please.

(shouting in distance)

- Alrighty. Give me 15 minutes
and send them in the same direction.

I'll lead them outta here so far,
they won't come back.

And don't leave this house.

(screaming)

(shouting in distance)

(clicking tongue)

Come on, you deaf mule.
I'm doing the clicking thing.

Come on.
(clicking tongue)

(horse snorting)
(western music)

(speaking Chinese)

- They're lyin'.

Montana Kid was seen
wearing Chinaman clothes.

- Get outta here, both of you!

He's here all right, Ben.

Name's written in this here book.

- All right...

No more lies.

Where is he?

- Go...
- Where is he?!

(speaking Chinese)
Spit it out!

- Jane! D-don't!

(western music)

(man shouting in Chinese)

- We are business folk.

And I will not abide...

...by anyone's purposeful

undermining of our venture.

So I'll start with the Chinaman.

If I don't get satisfaction,

we will work our way
through his family,

one by one, until I do.

Question is plain.

Where's the Montana Kid?

Kick it.

- Anyone touches that chair,

and I'll put a bullet in your other ear!

(laughing)

- Calm down, there, ma'am.

(cocking hammer)

(cocking)
(cocking)

- He's long gone. Days ago.

Why don't you go back
from where you came?

- She's lyin'. Kick the chair.

(cocking)
- Don't!

- I count four, Ben.

- You want gunplay?!

Is that what you want?!

I will bleed this town
till I find him!

(cocking)

(cocking slowly)

(slow suspenseful music)

(music fading)
(spurs jingling)

(western music)

- Oh no.

- Ben!

(cocking)

- No more.

It ends here.

Doc, Jane, everybody -
put your guns down.

- We can do this!

- There'll be no more killin'.

Not one shot.

I'm going with you.

- We-we can't let you do that, Sean.
- Yes, you can.

I've run long enough.

I've seen enough blood spilled
on my account.

You tell your boys, Ben, we're done.

Done shootin'.

I'm comin' with you.
- It's a trick.

- Get the leg irons.

- Doc?

- Well, Jane, he... he wants to go, eh?

- Okay, then. On the count of three,
everyone lowers their weapons.

One...

...two...

(laughing maniacally)

...three.

(gunfire)
- Whoa!

Whoa! Cease fire!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop!

Cease fire, I said!

Cease fire!

Hold it! Cease fire!

Three! I said three!

(music)
(whistling)

(whinnying)
No, no, no!

Down, down!
(rousing western music)

- Go around! Get behind him!

- Rats. Sean!

- Sorry!

- Here he comes!

- Oh! Damn!

- Grandpa!

Sean!!!

(music slowing)

(music fading)

(cocking)

(panting)

(cocking)
- Stay back.

- Just... hold it!

I have gone to considerable effort here
to head off any killin' today.

Ben, we been doin' this for too long.
Ten years - too long.

Me chasin' you, you chasin' me,

and, well, me...

...shootin' that ear of yours
almost clean off your head.

- I'm disfigured!
- Yeah, I... I know. I'm sorry.

But, you know, what's done is done.
Enough's enough.

Except if you kill her,

you know damn well
I'll shoot you dead.

And I... I really don't want it
to come to that.

Uh... you know, I'm...

trying to... to change,

to not be doing these...
the things that I used to do

the way I did them
and to try and...

change into becomin' that person
that I'm gonna...

- What?!

- Forget it.

It's complicated.

(grunting)
And you...

You pull that trigger,
and you'll pray you never did.

Killin' a man's
not something you can undo.

It'll eat at you.

Till you hate everything

about that one moment in time.

Including me.

I couldn't live with that.

So please...

(laughing)

- You ain't worth the bullet.
- Oh, ho-ho.

She is most definitely worth a bullet.
- Hey!

- No, I didn't mean that way...
- You, on the other hand,

are worth 4,000 dead or alive!

This time I think it prudent...

...to go dead.
(gunshot)

Oh! Christmas crackers!
(groaning)

- You supposin' we're square now?!

- Yeah. Yeah, I reckon so.

- Good.

Now you can finish patchin' up
my whatchamacallit.

- Gluteus.
- Damn right. Come on.

- Huh?

Ah, the gunfight?

You had the gunfight!

Ah, no! Would you...?

I missed it! I missed it!

Son of a...!

(jaunty flute music)

- Each of you
has a writ of expatriation

and a notice of intent

to charge and detain.

- Writ of what?

- It means I will graciously escort
your smelly hides out of the country,

and if you even think of returning,
will show you one of Her Majesty's...

hoosegows!

- What's a hoosegow?

(chuckling)

- Shut up.

- Hoosegow.
What the hell's a hoosegow?

- Ahem.

Ahem-hem-hem! Mm.

(soft western music)

- Thank you.

(indistinct chatter)

(music)

(music fading)

- I guess this is the part where
you become a charming memory.

- Not quite. Uh...

turns out there's a fair bit of debt
that has to be satisfied

before I can leave this, uh...
this town.

(groaning softly)

I owe for...

nine bullets, one teacup,

one shear pin,

one case of snails,

one carrot,

laundry and sewing services...

...four horseshoes,
one portrait of a ugly lady,

one bag of cats...

Wait a minute.

Oh, that's oats.

(laughing)
One gluteus bullet extraction -

mine was gratis,
but not Jack's, apparently -

and, uh... the repair

of roughly 100 bullet holes.

- It could take some time.
- Mm-hmm.

Frankly, I don't see
how I got saddled with the cost

of the shear pin.
It's your windmill.

(soft music)

(music)

- Yeah!

(music)

- Do I still get your horse?

- What is wrong with you people?

Don't let the darkness

In your head

All the love you meant to share

You shared

All the tears we'll never hear

And all the dreams that disappear

Sometimes you feel so alone

In the shadows of regret...

Hey!
(clicking tongue, then whistling)

Click! Click!

(with strange accent):
Come here to me, horse.

Fuck you, horse.
... In your head

- A Peacemaker.
(clicking tongue)

An Equalizer.

A Widowmaker.
- Stop that.

- A Peacemaker...
Yeah, an Equalizer.

The... the... the... the, uh...

the Womanizer.

(guffawing)

(laughter)

- Yesterday, I lost my hat,
so this is no fuckin' good.

- What the hell?!

Another fucking dust storm!

- I'd like to kill you,
but I cannot see you!

- And they each earned their bullet
of their own accord.

I said that weird,
like with almost a Martian accent.

- That would be a fragrant contravention
of rule 44 of the constables' code

of behaviour, hygiene
and equipment care.

- "Fragrant" contravention?
(laughter)

- You want the damn showdown,
or not?

- Hmm.

What were all those other lines?

- You could strangle someone
with a rope.

- Yah. Or pull them to the desert.

- Mm. Tie 'em to a bed.

(laughter)
- Fuck!

(applause)

(laughter)

(farting noise)

... All the pain
that's messin' up your mind

Makes you feel like

Leavin'you behind

Sometimes you feel so alone...

(laughter)
- Fucking fuck.

(laughter)
I heard that, Paul.

- This is my path.

This is what I do.

(horse farting)

And that's his path.
That's what he does.

What he eats, he shits.

He's a horse.

I am a man.
I have a gun.

I do different things.
I kill people.

I shit, too,
but I don't do it the same way.

I don't even lift anything, I just...
have a bowl I sit on.

Sometimes just out in the field
is where I'll shit.

- You lost your carrot?

(laughter)

You lost your rabbit?

(laughter)

(applause)

(music)

... Don't let the darkness

In your head

Ooh...

Ooh...

Don't let the darkness

In your head

All the songs you meant to sing

You did

Don't let the darkness

In your head

All the love you meant to share

You shared

(soft western music)