Original subtitles

Sorry, but this is a great day.

Our house is a part of history.

You have got to know that.

That is nothing to be proud of.

I love that old man.

Gillom! All right!

It is time you knew.

He is dying.

Who?

Mr. Books.

I don't believe it.

He has a cancer.

You are lying.

He would have told me.

But he didn't tell you!

He told me.

He is dying.

Mum.

Mum.

do you understand?

That is the last of it.

Thank you, Mr. Hutchins.

My position as a teacher,

as a maiden lady,

I am obliged to move to another place.

Of course. I apologize.

We are ready to go!

Bye.

Some coffee?

Don't mind if I do.

Did you know those two?

No.

They sure knew you.

Who were they?

Ben Shoup, the one you killed

trying to get out the window.

The other man is named Norton...

Two bad men, not from around here.

I have never heard of them.

Quite a night.

Your bedroom looks like a slaughterhouse.

Oh, Mrs. Rogers.

I will put a man outside every night.

That will cost the taxpayers three dollars a night

and ten dollars apiece to bury two corpses.

Death and taxes, Books.

Keeping you alive to die naturally

is costing us a small fortune.

There's no need of any man outside.

I would appreciate that, marshal.

Thank you.

I... I can't tell you how sorry I am

about what happened last night.

That won't help.

Two men are dead.

I was defending myself.

How are you feeling,

a little less well every day?

You have got a streak of kindness a mile wide.

That I do. Tell you what...

Maybe I can help speed things along.

Did you read about the shooting the night before last?

No.

That was some shooting.

Mr. Pulford, he's the faro dealer,

while being shot at, was able to fire one shot,

straight through the heart,

at a distance of eighty four feet, three inches.

Maybe I will just send him here,

let him deal you a little faro.

You do that, marshal.

This year is ninteen hundred and one

The old days are gone. You don't know it.

We have got waterworks, telephones, lights.

next year we will have an electric streetcar

and we have started to pave the streets.

We have still got some weeding to do.

Once we are rid of people like you,

we will have a damn garden of heaven here.

To be conscise,

you have outlived your time.

to be conscise? Your words could overflow a barrel without a bottom

You are the longest winded bastard I ever listened to.

I may be talk too much, but I am not ornery.

When my time comes to die,

I won't drag it out. I will just do it.

Why don't you?

Mr.Thibido...

I don't scare anymore.

Neither did Mr. Shoup or Mr. Norton.

You would not gun down a police officer.

What would stop me, fear of dying?

John Bernard Books

Lies moldering in his grave

John Bernard Books

Lies moldering in his grave

John Bernard Books

Lies moldering in his grave

But his horse keeps

Galloping on

Moses?

Would you care to do business

with a voice from the grave?

Mr. Books!

It's pure pleasure to groom your horse!

And even a greater pleasure

to do business with you!

Would you kindly step into my office?

It will be a pleasure.

Right this way, please.

Yes, sir.

Now, let me see

where I put my spectacles

because I would not want to make a, uh...

financial mistake.

Yes, sir.

Here they are, Mr. Books.

one, two, three, four, five.

one hundred dollars.

That's a lot of money, Moses.

Who do I have... What's this for?

What's it for? For your horse.

My horse? I want to sell my horse,

but this wouldn't buy my saddle.

But, Mr. Books, you agreed.

When?

When you sent Gilly...

I mean, when Mr. Rogers said this morning

one hundred dollars would be just fine with you.

I will have to have a talk with Mr. Rogers.

As far as the horse goes, it is three.

three hundred?

three hundred.

I might maybe can go two hundred.

You might maybe go more than that

because you will get more than that, because it's mine.

three.

two fifty.

three, and I will include the saddle for cash.

What about my bill?

You can forget that.

I am not made of money.

Are we going to stand here and haggle all day?

Mr. Books, you the most famous man I ever seen

and the second best to barter.

Who's the best?

Here I stand.

Well, let's get to haggling.

Let's get to haggling. All right.

Let's get to haggling.

one, two, three, four.

That's two hundred. two hundred.

two hundred there.

twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, ninety, two hundred and ninety five.

No.

two hundred and ninety six?

No.

ninety seven?

ninety eight?

Sold.

You mean I did it?

Mr. Books, that makes me the best to haggle!

The best in the world, Moses.

Yes, sir.

Gillom!

Gillom!

Where's Gillom?

In the woodshed.

That's appropriate.

Why?

You stay out of this.

Gillom!

I'm in here.

You will account to me.

Sir?

You were trying to cheat me,

and Moses was trying to cheat you.

I'm sorry.

I'm glad of that, but it doesn't...

it doesn't tell me very much.

She, uh...

She cried on my shoulder this morning

on account of you.

I had to comfort her.

And then the lodgers moved out.

Your room is a mess...

and now Mum is worried about losing the house.

Well, I just thought that...

that maybe you might want to do something

to try and make it up to her.

I thought you might be interested

in selling your horse since you are...

Since I'm what?

You are dying.

How did you find that out?

Mum told me.

Guess I am the last one in town to know about it.

Don't you think you should have talked to me

before you tried to sell my horse?

Yes, sir.

I suppose.

But I just wanted to see first

if Moses would buy it, that's all.

I'm not a horse thief.

A man's emotions can...

entangle him sometimes.

I've been living on a knife edge lately, Gillom.

Guess I just jumped too far too fast.

But, son, I never thought you were a horse thief.

And I hope I can stay around long enough

to make it up to you.

Sir...

do you think...

Would you give me a shooting lesson?

A shooting lesson?

Well, a man should know how to handle a gun,

use it with discretion.

But, uh...

you going to tell your mother?

Well... do I have to?

Come on, I'll get us something to shoot with.

It's beautiful.

See that tree on the left

with the divided trunk?

You take the right side.

Aim well and put five bullets in it.

Why not six?

You keep your hammer on an empty chamber for safety.

And if you're going out to face somebody?

Load six if your insides tells you to.

Now, take your time.

That's good shooting, Gillom.

Hey, Mr. Books,

my spread's not much bigger than yours.

You did well.

Where did you learn to shoot like that?

Jay Cobb lets me practice with him by the lake...

when he's not in jail.

Day before yesterday, he smashed some salesman's jaw.

Nice employer you have.

Well, it's just temporary...

till I find whatever is right for me.

Yeah.

I would like to see

him and Jack Pulford fight.

Did you hear about what Pulford did?

I did.

Mr. Books.

Yeah?

How did you ever kill so many men?

I lived most of my life in the wild country,

and you set a code of laws to live by.

What laws?

I won't be treated wrong, I won't be insulted,

I won't be hit.

I don't do these things to other people,

and I require the same from them.

But how could you get into so many fights

and always come out on top?

I nearly tied you shooting.

There's nobody up there shooting back at you.

It isn't always being fast

or even accurate that counts.

It's being willing.

I found out early that most men,

regardless of cause or need,

aren't willing.

They blink an eye or draw a breath

before they pull the trigger.

I won't.

Bat Masterson told Cobb...

Bat Masterson?

Yeah.

He says that a man has to have, uh...

courage, deliberation, and be proficient with firearms.

Did he mention that third eye you better have?

Third eye?

For that dumb-ass amateur.

It's usually some six fingered bustard

that couldn't hit a cow in the tit

with a tin cup

that will kill you.

But then, Bat Masterson

always was full of sheep dip.

I hope you're smart enough to know

that alcohhol does not go with guns.

Oh, sure. Yes, sir.

Well, now that we got that cleared up...

as my Mexican friend said,

"To the pure life."

Johnny?

Yes?

May I come in?

Don't... Don't you remember me?

Serepta?

Oh.

Sera, I can't tell you how happy I am you're here.

I came the minute I heard.

Have I changed so much?

No, it's... just been a long time.

It isn't true, is it?

God, how I loved you.

And I loved you.

Is it true?

Oh, no.

Aw, don't cry, Sera.

We all have our time.

I must look a sight.

For sore eyes.

Are you still with Pardee?

No. He treated me the way I did you.

He just up and fled.

We should have married.

Spilt milk.

You never did, huh?

No.

Now you're alone. I'm so glad I'm here.

So am I.

Would you still like to?

We could get a minister and just say I do.

That way, I'd have the certificate.

I would have something to go on.

Not much.

I would have your name.

How far would that take you?

Long ways, maybe.

How?

Johnny, you're too modest, you know?

Everybody knows who you are.

I would be Mrs. J.B. Books.

I would be somebody.

That would not buy you any food.

Well, it might.

See, that's how come I knew that you had...

that that you was ailing bad.

This newspaper reporter here tracked me down.

He wants to put out a book on you.

He will write it and use my name.

The Shooter...

The Life and Bloody Times of J.B. Books

by Serepta Books, his wife.

He said in the East

that it would sell like hot cakes

and he would split it with me.

And his name is Dobkins.

Right. How did you know?

I kicked him out of here for the same reason.

Johnny, what harm is there

in a marriage certificate, a piece of paper?

I don't object to that. It's the book.

Why?

What does he know about my life?

What do you know?

He says what he does not know, he will make up,

and, you know, gory things,

gun fights and midnight rides

and women tearing out their hair.

It will be great, I promise you.

Woman, I still have some pride.

A man should be allowed his human dignity.

I spent three dollars on the train here.

One-way.

You and Dobkins are two sides of a counterfeit coin.

I will pay you back.

I will pay you both ways.

What's wrong about a book?

I don't want to be remembered for a pack of lies.

Because you're too damn stubborn, that's why.

You always were.

Why should you care what's happening? You're dying.

I have to go on living,

and you don't give a damn what happens!

Why should you? You won't be here!

God. And I loved you once.

You bastard.

May you rot to death!

# It was blighted affection #

# That made him exclaim #

# Oh, willow tit-willow #

# Tit-willow #

# And if you remain callous #

# And stubborn, I #

# Shall perish as he did #

# And you will know why #

# Though I probably shall not exclaim #

# As I die #

# Oh, willow #

# Tit-willow #

# Tit-willow says I #

You seem in fine condition today.

I should be. I'm full of laudanum.

I will get your breakfast.

Good. Thank you.

I didn't mean to break up the recital.

Oh, that's all right.

It was just something

for the Sunday School class

for the church social.

Bond, uh, I've chased away all your other lodgers.

Is it all right if I have breakfast out here?

Of course it is.

I was delighted to see you had a lady caller yesterday.

She asked me not to announce her.

She said she wanted to surprise you.

Were you surprised?

Yes I was.

Oh, these clothes, uh...

they are my Sunday best.

I wish you would brush them clean.

Certainly.

They're getting pretty scruffy.

Nine days on the back of a saddle

wrapped in bedding.

Wouldn't you rather have them cleaned?

That is the general idea.

I mean there's a new method

called dry process cleaning.

It's very good.

How long does it take?

They advertise next-day service,

but tomorrow is Sunday.

I'm afraid I will have to settle for the brushing

because I will need them first thing Monday morning.

I will ask. If I can't get them by then,

I will brush them.

I will get your ham and eggs.

Just biscuits will do.

My stomach is feeling a little weak today.

Oh. You sure

you won't want these for church tomorrow?

I don't think so.

You're most welcome to accompany Gillom and me.

Maybe your church won't welcome me.

That's a terrible thing to say.

Doors of the church are open to everyone.

Well, my place of worship has been the mountains and solitude.

No doors at all.

That's hardly the same thing.

We all need a minister to guide us.

Well, if you think of it,

give a thought to my soul tomorrow.

I will. I have been praying for you.

I think Gillom has, too.

Thank you. Thank you both.

Tell me,

what did he do yesterday that made you so angry?

It isn't what he did.

It's what he didn't do.

We have that straightened out.

You should be proud of Gillom.

He has the making of something special.

I hope so.

I'm going to send Reverend Saunders

to see you tomorrow.

No, thank you.

Maybe it'll make it easier for you.

No.

Just for a few minutes.

Bond, I'm tired of people interfering over my death

for this reason or that or for any reason.

A man's death is about the most private thing

in his life.

It doesn't belong to Dobkins or Reverend Saunders

or Thibido or you.

It's mine.

I suppose that's true of your soul, too.

My soul is the way I made it.

You reprimand me for making judgments

with a gun barrel poked in my face,

but it's all right for you to judge me on hearsay.

But the hearsay fits.

Maybe I'm better than you have already decided.

Maybe I'm no worse than that good reverend.

Maybe you like being a gunman.

You probably prefer the word shooter.

I don't think of myself as either.

Oh, no. You are some godlike creature

of infinite knowledge, aren't you?

I am a dying man scared of the dark.

Damn you! Damn you for the pain you have brought

into this house.

There we are, sir.

Mr. Books.

Yes, sir?

I'm Mr. Beckum, the undertaker, sir.

How do you do?

I hope you don't think my stopping by

is premature, sir.

No, I admire a man with enthusiasm.

As we say in our profession,

the early worm gets the bird.

I, uh, admit I heard some unfortunate things.

I'd like to express my heartfelt regret.

All right. What is your proposition?

I'm prepared to preserve your corpse

using the best, scientific methods,

a bronze coffin guaranteed good for a century

regardless of the climate

or geological conditions,

my best hearse,

the minister of your choice,

and the at least, uh, two mourners...

a headstone made of the finest marble...

and a large burial plot in a good location

suitable of your status, sir...

and perpetual care of the grounds.

For how much?

Why, nothing, sir. For the privilege.

No, I mean how much will you make on the deal?

Oh, Mr. Beckum, you're going to do to me

what they did to John Wesley Hardin.

You are going to lay me out,

let the public look at me for fifty cents each,

ten cents for the children.

When the curiosity is gone,

you will stick me in a hole

while you hurry to the bank with your cash.

I assure you...

Give me a some paper and a pencil.

You assure me? What good is your assurance

when my veins are filled with your damn juice?

No. Here's what you're going to do.

First you're going to give me fifty dollars cash.

Then early Monday morning,

you will bring me a headstone.

I want a small headstone with this written on it.

Nothing else.

No illustrious words, no angels. do you understand?

Mr. Books, you're a hard man.

I'm alive.

Ah, very well.

I will instuct my stonecutter

to work on the inscription immediately.

Mr. Beckum.

The fifty dollars

Oh.

Thank you, sir.

Early worm, early worm.

That Mr. Beckum is just what you say he is.

Well... now, how much do I owe you?

Not one penny, Mr. Books.

Why, to watch that performance you just gave,

I would have paid ten dollars in a theater.

Well, I may just accept your generosity.

Besides, I may just see if Mr. Beckum

would like to buy some of J.B. Books' hair.

With your permission.

Permission granted.

Good day, sir.

What the hell?

And the third man's name is...

Mike Sweeney. Do you know him?

Sure, I do. He has got a horseless carriage.

And now for the favor I am going to ask you.

You just tell me, sir. Anything at all.

Don't dive in untill you know how deep it is.

Today's the twenty seventh, isn't it?

Yes, sir.

Now, that is Jack Pulford, Jay Cobb, and Mike Sweeney.

Tomorrow morning early,

I want you to go to each one of them and tell them

that I will be at the Metropole

at elevin On Monday morning the twenty ninth,

and don't tell any of them that you've told the others.

Mister Cobb is still in jail.

Yeah, well, tell him anyway.

Think you can do that for me?

Well, I know I can,

but, uh, Mother is going to be angry

if I don't go to church in the morning.

You can go to church first.

I telephoned Moses.

You can ride my horse out to the Sweeney farm.

Yes, sir.

Thank you and...

and good night.

Son of a bitch.

Don't cuss.

Yes, sir.

You know that kind of music gets on my nerves,

especially on Sunday.

Sorry.

Mum, are you angry at Mr. Books?

Why? What did he say?

Nothing. It's just...

Mum, I'm sorry.

I must go do some errands for Mr. Books.

I promised him.

Gillom.

Gillom.

I will be back soon. Soon as I can.

Oh! Oh!

What happened? Are you all right?

I slipped in the tub.

Let me help you.

Hell.

Come on, now. Hang on to me. That's it.

Now sit on the edge of the tub.

I'll get you another towel.

Damn!

John Bernard, you swear too much.

The hell I do.

Put your arm around my shoulder.

Why didn't you ask me to help you

in the first place?

I couldn't.

Why not?

I promised you I would not be a burden.

But you are, so let us just forget about that.

I sure as hell am.

Oh, let me sit down.

Oh, sit down for a minute while I catch my breath.

Oh...

well, we finally made it through a full day

without having a fight.

Well, we have not seen each other all day.

You are right there.

You know, Bond,

you are such a real lady on the outside.

You are full of vim and vinegar on the inside.

I just never met anybody like you.

You are running low.

I better call doctor Hostetler and order some more.

No. This will do.

Oh.

That Morning newspaper.

I have perused newspapers all my life.

Never got the full information out of one.

I bought this the day I arrived,

and I said to myself,

I'm going to read every word, and when I'm finished,

"I will know for a fact exactly what happened

on January twenty second in the year nineteen hundred and one."

It was an important day in my life,

and now I know.

Would you do me a favor

and give this an honorable incineration in my stove?

You are getting ready to do something.

What makes you say that?

This...

dry cleaning...

laudanum...

haircut.

I want you to promise me something.

Tomorrow when you see me in all my laundered splendor

and my Sunday best clothes,

I want you to promise there will be no questions...

no surmises, no woman's intuition.

All curiosity stops right here and now.

Promise me?

And no tears, Bond.

Mr. Books!

In here, Gillom.

Oh, so I see.

No, you don't see.

I was helping Mr. Books out of the bathtub.

What?

You must be hungry.

No, Mum. I'm fine.

I promise.

Thank you.

Well, sir, I did it.

Good. How did you get along with my horse?

Oh, he's a great horse.

You should have seen the look on the Marshal's face

when I rode up to the jail.

He must have thought I was you, coming to free Mr. Cobb.

Hardly me.

Which is just about what I did do

because Mr. Thibido is going to release Mr.Cobb

long enough to meet you.

Good.

You will never guess how Mr. Cobb reacted.

I bet he jumped with joy.

He became all white, scared to death.

Oh?

Now, Mr. Pulford was happy.

He really respects you. He told me so.

And he sure was polite. He said, uh,

I eagerly await the honor... and the privilege

of letting him try his luck at my faro table.

We will have to give it a try.

Now, how about the other man... Mr. Sweeney?

You watch out for him, Mr. Books.

That man is mean, and he hates you.

Well, we will see if we can clear that up tomorrow.

Sir, what is...

Thank you. We both should get some sleep.

Can I ask you something?

I am too tired. We will talk tomorrow.

But I have to be out before sunrise,

deliver the milk while Cobb is in jail.

Then we will both have a busy morning.

Before you go...

there is something I want to give you.

No, sir. No. I won't accept pay.

And I would not offer it, Gillom.

But you like my horse, don't you?

Best horse I ever rode.

Well, he is yours. I bought him back.

Here is the bill of sale.

Now let me get some sleep.

Sir?

Yeah?

When you asked me to do this,

I didn not realize...

and... and I just hope that nothing...

Just take good care of my horse.

Good night, sir.

Come in.

We got the headstone. Mr. Beckum...

Good. Just put it there on the bed.

Beckum said he did the best he could,

but there was not much time.

Yeah, well, that will be alright.

Well, that is no good,

they left the date off.

That will be alright.

Yes, sir.

Thank you.

Early for you, isn't it?

Yeah, well, I am expecting somebody.

Bring me a cup of coffee, will you, Murray?

Sure.

John Bernard?

Oh.

How grand you look.

Thank you, Bond.

That dry cleaning process is very good, isn't it?

Yeah, but it has an odour.

Well, that's the naphtha.

Oh, this is my birthday.

I, uh, have not been to a saloon for a long time,

and I thought I would get a drink and celebrate.

Happy birthday.

Thank you.

You have a beautiful day for it.

It is what we call a false spring.

Goodbye, Mrs. Rogers.

Goodbye, Mr. Books.

Well, boy, here is your big chance.

Fame and fortune awaits.

After I put that old man out of his misery,

I am going to get you.

Sure, you will.

Don't wet your pants.

Marshal Thibido! May I see you for a moment?

What is going on?

Mr. Dobkins, this is law business,

not newspaper business.

Mr. Adolph Ochs is the publisher of the New York Times.

He has asked me for an article

on how city officials are reacting

to the presence of our famous shooter.

I was thinking of doing a series of stories on you.

Let's get off the street.

You tell them my name is Thibido with an "H."

Good morning.

Good morning, Mr. Books.

You don't give a man much time to climb aboard this thing.

I have a schedule to keep.

Good morning.

Good morning, sir.

Isn't it a beautiful day?

It sure is.

It is what we call a false spring.

Yes, sir?

Glass.

Mr. Sweeney...

want to try your luck?

stop!

Friend... this is for you.

What?

Make you a little more comfortable.

Well, sir, my old bones thank you.

I sure hope the right man comes along.

Good morning, sir.

Good morning.

This is my birthday.

Give me the best in the house.

Yes, sir.

Thank you, sir.

And I will tell you that was for Albert!

Look out!