All language subtitles for The.Shootist.1976.1080p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

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His name was J.B. Books,

and he had a matched pair of 45s

with antique ivory grips

that were something to behold...

but he wasn't an outlaw.

Fact is, for a while,

he was a lawman.

Long before I met Mr. Books,
he was a famous man.

I guess his fame was
why somebody or other

was always after him.

The wild country had
taught him to survive.

He lived his life and
herded by himself.

He had a credo that went...

I won't be wronged.
I won't be insulted.

I won't be laid a hand on.

I don't do these things
to other people.

I require the same from them.

You hold it right there.

Give me your wallet.

Take it a little easy
with that cannon, mister.

Just throw me your wallet.

Yes, sir,

and a little something extra.

You done murdered me.

No, but you're going
to have a long

winter bellyache, you boob.

Give me that wallet.

Just the wallet.

I can hardly move.

You done shot a
hole in my stomach.

I appreciate that.

You ain't going
to leave me here.

Well, it's quite obvious

that's what you were
going to do to me.

Get out of the way.

Mister, you better find
yourself another line of work.

This one sure don't
fit your pistol.

Hey, mister, want a paper?

Yeah, I will, son.

Queen Victoria's dead.

There you are. Thank you.

Hey!

Hey, you!

Hey, Methuselah,

move that cack out of the way.

Are you talking to me?

Yeah, I'm talking you
You dumb bastard.

I said: Move it, or I'll
deliver you something

to remember me by.

Well, now, pardon
me all to hell.

Giddyup!

Buster.

Try it.

Come on, Jay, the old man
ain't worth the bullet.

He looks all tuckered out.

Giddyup.

You're right there, son.

Doc Hostetler.

John Bernard Books.

You remembered.

The newspapers
occasionally remind me.

Wh-What was it, 15 years ago?

The only time I was
ever hit right here...

at the Acme Saloon.

You killed two men.

I'm damn lucky you
were around, Doc.

That second one
nearly did me in,

coming out of
nowhere like that.

You must have the
constitution of an ox.

Well, we'll see.

That's what I'm here for.

Oh?

About 10 days ago in
Creede, Colorado,

I hadn't been feeling
up to snuff,

so I went to see a
sawbones there.

He, uh...

Well, the next day
I got on my horse

and took off to find you.

And what did my colleague
in Creede say?

Examine me, and I'll tell you.

You don't trust me.

Oh, Doc, you saved my life.

You don't trust my profession.

In my profession,
you trust too much,

you don't celebrate
many birthdays.

I kind of like it around here.

All right, I'll examine you.

Take your clothes off
down to your long johns.

Now, I, uh...

if I'm to know
what to look for,

you're gonna have to tell
me what's ailing you.

Well, I hurt, Doc,

way down deep in my back.

Not all the time,

but now and then suddenly.

Pain in the lumbar vertebrae?

Like sin.

All right, whenever
you get ready,

just... bend over
the table there,

trapdoor down.

Well?

Books, every few days

I have to tell a
man or a woman

something I don't want to.

I've been practicing
medicine for 29 years,

and I still don't know
how to do it well.

Why don't you just
say it flat out?

All right.

You have a cancer...

advanced.

Is that what that fella
up at Creede told you?

Yeah.

And you didn't believe him.

No.

Do you believe me?

Can't you cut it out, Doc?

I'd have to gut
you like a fish.

Well, what can you do?

There's... just, uh...

very little I can do.

Uh, if... when the
pain gets too bad,

I can give you something.

What you're trying to tell me

is that I...

Yeah.

Damn.

I'm sorry, Books.

You told me I was
strong as an ox.

Well, even an ox dies.

How much time do I have?

Two months... six weeks...
less.

There's no way to tell.

Well, what can I...

What will I be able to do?

Oh, anything you
want at first.

Then, later on, you
won't want to.

How much later?

You'll know when.

Now, you'll have to
get off your feet

and get some rest.

Have you made any kind of
arrangements for a room?

No Doc. I just got in town.

You might try the
widow Rogers.

She's got a place down
the street a fair piece.

She takes in lodgers.

and she's a nice woman.

She needs the help.

I'll give it a try.

Doc, do me a favor.

Don't tell anybody
I'm in town.

Oh, no, but if I wanted
to go unnoticed,

I don't think I'd walk
around with this thing.

Stole it from a
whorehouse in Creede.

Did you?

Hello.

This the Rogers place?

Yeah.

Ma!

You can tell your mother

that a tuckered-out
old man needs a room.

Good afternoon, sir.

Afternoon.

Doc Hostetler says you
might be able to help me.

How kind of him.

Yes, sir, I have one
room available.

Good.

Downstairs in the rear.

$8.00 by the week.

$2.00 per day if
you're not permanent.

Well, I'm not
permanent, ma'am.

Oh, boy, get my gear and the
saddlebags off that horse

and bring them into the house.

Gillom will be
happy to do that.

The parlor is yours to use

and the telephone.

My other lodgers
have rooms upstairs.

Two railroad men and
a schoolteacher.

I'll introduce them at supper.

My kitchen.

And the bathroom.

I thought that's what it was.

We do have running water,

also in the washbowl in here.

Nice-looking brass bed.

I hope it hasn't
got any, uh...

It isn't ticky, is it?

It certainly is not.

This is very comfortable.

I'll take my meals right here.

I serve in the dining room.

I'll pay you extra.

Very well, since
you're not permanent.

This suit's got a lot
of countryside on it.

I'd like to have it
brushed before morning.

I'll take those saddlebags.

That bedroll you
can leave outside.

I have my things
wrapped in it.

They'll need soap and water.

Have you a barn?

No, we don't.

Boy, take my horse over...

My name's Gillom.
It's not "boy."

It's Gillom Rogers,

and I don't like being
ordered around.

Well, that's fair
enough, Gillom Rogers.

Would you be so kind
as to take Old Dollar

over to the livery stable

and see that he gets a
double order of oats?

O.K.

You seem to be a man

accustomed to giving orders.

I guess it is a bad
habit of mine.

I didn't get your name.

I didn't give it.

Is it so important?

For anyone living
under my roof, it is.

Well, all right.

It's, uh... Hickok,

William Hickok.

Where do you hail
from, Mr. Hickok?

Abilene, Kansas.

And what do you do there?

I'm a U.S. Marshal.

Oh, that's nice.

No, it isn't.

I'm glad you're not
staying long, Mr. Hickok.

I'm not sure I like you.

Not many do, Mrs. Rogers.

Moses, where did you hide
the whiskey this time?

Third drawer from the
left, Gilly boy.

Gilly, fetch me my spectacles.

What the hell are you doing?

You watch your language, boy.

J.B. Books is in my house.

Hey.

My name is Books.

Y'all get that?

Bang!

Boom!

He's in my house.

Ma!

Ma, I got to tell
you something.

Shh. Close the door.

What's happened?

Who do you think...

Oh, Gillom, you've
been drinking again.

Do you know who he is?

William Hickok...

United States Marshal
in Abilene, Kansas.

Ma, Wild Bill Hickok

was shot before I was born.

We got J.B. Books here.

He's killed 30 men.

Gillom, go to your room.

Go on. Go to bed before
you wake the house.

Good night, Ma.

Whoo.

Come in.

Mr. Books?

Oh, my clothes.

Thank you, m...

You are J.B. Books.

That's right.

May I ask how you found out?

My son.

I've been up all night
because of you.

I demand that you
pack and leave.

That is not possible.

And why not?

I don't propose to say.

So you won't go.

No.

And that's your last word?

Mrs. Rogers, you
have a fine color

when you're on the scrap.

Central, give me the
city marshal's office.

Thank you.

Come in, Marshal.

My name's Thibido,

Marshal Walter Thibido.

I'm told... you are J.B.
Books.

You were told right.

Have a seat.

Don't think I will.

Breathe easy, Marshal.

You're closer to your
gun than I am to mine.

Books, Carson City's
full of hard cases...

Is your head cold?

Huh?

Oh.

Books, Carson City's
full of hard cases

who'd sell their souls to
put your name on the wall.

You'll draw trouble like
an outhouse draws flies.

I checked my bulletins
before I come over

and didn't find nothing
I can hold you for,

but I want you out of town...

directly, today.

Maybe I'm not so inclined.

Then, by God, I
will incline you.

I can badge as many
men as I need.

We'll smoke you out or
carry you out feet first,

so you say which, Mr. Gunman.

It's your funeral.

Soon, yes.

Huh?

I can't go.

Can't?

I'm going to die right
here in this room.

Ha! That's too thin.

I wish you were right.

Would you believe
Doc Hostetler?

That's his verdict.

You don't say?

You don't sa... goddamn!

Whoo!

Whooee!

I tell you the truth...

Coming through that
door, I was scared.

I know what a man like
you is capable of.

I wondered who'd get my job,

if the council would
give my wife a pension,

and if it would snow the
day they put me under.

Excuse me if I don't pull
a long face, I cant.

You talk too much.

Much as I damn please.

How long does
Hostetler give you?

He doesn't know.
Do me a favor.

I owe you one... or Hostetler.

My being here...
maybe that's news,

but dying is my own business.

Keep it under your
hat, will you?

All right. Just don't
take too long to die.

Be a gent and
convenience everybody

and do it soon.

You've worn out your welcome.

Scat.

The day they lay you away,

what I'll do on your grave

won't pass for flowers.

You damn little sneak.
How long were you out there?

I was just passing by.

You spy on me and I'll nail
your slats to a tree.

Oh, no sir. No, I, I'd never...

Oh, you've already told your mother.

Who else have you blabbed to?

Ah...

Jay Cobb

Are you alright, Mr. Books?

I can't abide a skulker.

You want to see me,
knock on my door like a man.

I will.

Are you sure you're all right?

If there's anything
I can do for you,

just let me know, sir, because

it's an honor to
have you in this house.

I'm afraid your mother doesn't agree.

She doesn't know
how a man feels.

You're the most famous person
to ever come into this town.

When I was a boy,

I heard about your shootout
at the Acme Saloon.

I just never thought I'd
get the chance to meet you.

There's more to being a man

than the end of a gun.

Don't you have something to do?
Don't you have a job?

Ya, I was just headed over to
Cobb's Creamery right now.

I help Jay with
deliveries sometimes.

That was the nice gentleman

you were with yesterday.

Where's your mother?

She's in the kitchen, I think.

Well, goodbye, sir.

It was real nice meeting you.

Good-bye.

Mrs. Rogers, I, uh...
hope you'll forgive me

for taking Hickok's name.

I thought it was pretty
funny at the time,

but after reflection...

it wasn't such a joke,
and I apologize.

You should.

The only way you can
show your repentance

is to leave.

Well, that I cannot do.

Mr. Books, you are a
notorious individual

utterly lacking in
character or decency.

You're an assassin.

That's according to which
end of the gun you're on.

You lied to me,
made a fool of me.

This house is all I have.

If my lodgers find
out who you are,

they'll leave.

I have a cancer.

I'm dying of it.

I know what you'll
be thinking...

That I'll be a lot of trouble.

Well, I won't.

You just bring me my meals,

and I'll see to
the other needs.

I promise you I
won't be a burden.

Mrs. Rogers, I'm in a
kind of a tight...

I'll make it worth your while.

I can pay $4.00 a
day for the room.

Oh, Mr. Books.

Most pleased to meet
you, sir, and honored.

What did you want
to see me about?

The name is Dan Dobkins.

I'm with The Morning Appeal.

Mr. Dobkins, sit down.

Thank you.

Um...

we ran the story this morning

that you were here
at Mrs. Rogers'

and enjoying our
salubrious winter climate

and so on and so forth.

Have you seen it?

No.

It's page one, I assure you.

I bought your paper
when I arrived.

Still reading about
Queen Victoria dying.

Oh.

What can I do for you?

That's what I came to discuss.

Well, that's what I figured.

You must appreciate, sir,

that you are the most
celebrated shootist extant.

Extant?

Uh, still existing,

alive.

Thank you.

Yes, and your reputation
is nationwide.

My story went out over
the wires this morning.

Every daily of
consequence will run it,

but they'll want more,

the papers in the
East, in particular.

Between us, Mr. Books,

we can really put
Carson City on the map.

Mr. Dobkins, you're going the
long way around the barn.

Yes, sir.

I would like tremendously

to do a series of
stories on you.

A series?

Yes. Uh, how long
will you be with us?

Not as long as I'd like to be.

Oh, well, we could start
today, right now,

then get together
again tomorrow.

You see,

there's been so much cheap
fiction about gunmen.

I want to get down to the
true story for once,

while you're available,

before anything
happens to you.

I mean, I hope nothing does.

Go on.

I want to cover your
career factually.

The statistics, you might say.

Then I'd delve into the
psychological aspects...

What turned you to violence
in the first place?

Are you by nature
bloodthirsty?

Uh, do you, uh, brood
after the deed is done,

or have you lived
so long with death

that you're used to it?
The death of others?

The prospect of your own?

Make like that's a nipple.

One fit or fidget

and Mrs. Rogers is going to
be scrubbing your brains

off the wallpaper.

On your feet.

Back up.

Now, we're heading
for the front door.

Now, don't you shake,
shiver, or sneeze.

Mr. Books, what in heaven's
name are you doing?

Ma'am, we have a
touchy situation here.

Out.

Turn around.

Mmm.

Turn around.

Bend over.

Yes, sir.

Dobkins, you are a prying,
pipsqueaking ass,

and if you ever come dandying
around here again...

That was a savage thing to do.

Maybe...

Mr. Books?

I'll tend myself.

First things first, Doc.

I almost forgot to ask you.

How much do I owe you?

You're a man after
my own heart, Books.

Most of them ask that
last, if at all.

Well, let's see.

We'll make it $4.00
for the two visits

plus $1.00 for that.

What's that?

They call that laudanum,

a solution of opium
and alcohol.

Opium, that can get
to be a habit.

Why, absolutely, an addiction.

How does it taste?

Just... just awful, terrible,

but it's the most potent
painkiller we've got.

How much of it do I take?

Well, as much as you
need when you need it.

I think a spoonful

would be all right
to start with.

Later?

I don't know,

but I... I think one morning

you're just going
to wake up and say,

"Here I am in this bed, and
here I'm going to stay."

Hostetler, I want to know.

Well, unless you insist,

I'd rather not talk about it.

Well, I want to know.

All right.

There'll be an increase

in the severity of the pain

in your lower spine,
your hips, your groin.

You...

Do you... Do you
want me to go on?

The pain will
become unbearable.

Uh, no drug will moderate it.

If you're lucky, you'll
lose consciousness,

and until then, you'll scream.

L- I... I'm sorry.

I... I didn't mean to
be specific like this.

The next time, I'll
go to Mrs. Rogers.

You... You... You
just telephone.

You just telephone.

There... There's one
more thing I'd say.

Both of us have had a
lot to do with death.

I'm not a brave man,
but you must be.

Ah.

Now-now-now, this
is not advice.

It's not even a suggestion.

It's just something
for you to reflect on

while your mind's still clear.

What?

I would not die a death
like I just described.

No?

Not if I had your courage.

Oh.

Thanks.

Come in, Mrs. Rogers.

Oh, Mr. Books, I...

I'm beginning to
know your knock.

I was reading about
old Queen Vic.

Well, maybe she
outlived her time.

Maybe she was a museum piece,

but she never lost her dignity

nor sold her guns.

She hung on to her pride
and went out in style.

That's the kind of an old
gal I'd like to meet.

Mrs. Rogers, are
you afraid of me?

Well, to be frank, yes.

Why?

All these guns and the
kind of man you are.

Maybe you're afraid
of too many things.

Sometimes widows are,

but I'm sure there's plenty
of starch in your corset.

Mr. Books, I came here
to see what you can eat,

if you can have
what I'm serving.

No, you didn't.

I wish you'd stop
contradicting me.

I wish you'd say
what you mean.

Very well.

I apologize for the
unchristian things

I've said and done.

I'm sorry, and I'll do
whatever I can for you.

Well, thank you. I...

All my life, I've
been too proud

to take help from anyone.

Guess I'll have to learn.

Would you, uh...

sit down for a moment?

Please do.

What's that?

Laudanum.

Doc Hostetler's remedy.

That's habit-forming,
isn't it?

Mrs. Rogers, would
you go for a drive

in the country
with me tomorrow?

Oh, I... I couldn't,
but thank you.

I wish you'd reconsider.

It would only be for
an hour or two.

No. I appreciate the
invitation, but no.

Is it that you don't want
to be alone with me?

It's not that, I assure you.

It's just that I've only
been a widow for a year.

People would...

People!

If I have to work on
your sympathy, I will.

I want to go out
in the world again

and see trees, lakes,
hills, and the sky.

And I don't fancy
seeing it alone.

I've been full
of alone lately.

I'm sorry.

Besides, there's a threat
of snow in the air.

Since I moved in here,

we've been scratching
at each other

and apologizing.

Well, let's see if
we can't do better.

Damn it. I wish to hell
you'd ride with me.

I apologize for my language.

I'll go with you.

Good.

Tomorrow at 10:00?

Will you get, please,
Mr. Gillom Rogers

to trot down to the stable

and get us the best horse
and buggy they have?

I will.

I'm much obliged, ma'am.

Good evening.

Deuce is the dead card.

8 is your winner,

and the lovely
queen, the loser.

Hellfire!

That makes seven
turnovers in a row.

Pulford, J.B. Books
over at Mrs. Rogers.

That was yesterday's news.

But I just heard he's dying.

Dying?

Friend of mine got it
from Marshal Thibido.

Old Books is cashing in.

That's hard news.

That's a man I
could have taken.

Ha!

My ass.

You have two ways

of leaving this
establishment, my friend...

Immediately or dead.

Gentlemen, place your bets.

Place your bets, gentlemen.

Look out!

43...

44...

45...

46...

47... 48.

Clean through the heart!

Hey, Pulford!

Over 80 feet!

- Hooray!
- Hooray!

Oh, mighty handsome, ma'am.

Moses had to dust
this buggy off.

He says he don't
rent it too often.

Doesn't.

Except just for funerals.

Well, thank you, Gillom.

I appreciate this.

I want that wood chopped
by the time we get back.

Oh, Ma, I was
going to go on...

Yes, ma'am.

Hyah.

That is beauty.

It is a little chilly up here.

Would you like the top raised?

No, thank you.

You all right?

I will be in a minute.

Can I help you?

I've had plenty of practice.

Why don't you get
married again?

What?

I think you heard me.

That's none of your affair.

I haven't time to be
polite, Mrs. Rogers.

Well, for one thing, I
haven't been asked.

For another, I
loved my husband

and still do.

How did he die?

Stroke, they think.

They found him
slumped at his desk.

He was lucky.

He was 41.

Did he have time to, uh...

Did he leave you any security?

I have the property
and the house,

which he built
with a bank loan,

and Gillom.

And he worries you.

Yeah, he certainly does,

particularly when he
complains about being bored

and needing excitement.

Well, I wouldn't be
too hard on him.

Every young man feels the need

to let the badger
loose now and again.

I try to reason with him.
I can't.

I can only mother him.

That's not what he wants.

Like I said, that
you can change.

Don't you have enough
worries of your own?

A few, but in general,

I've had a hell
of a good time.

Tell me, um...

what does the J.B. Stand for?

John Bernard.

And yours?

Bond.

That's a crackerjack
of a name for a woman.

How do you do, Bond?

How do you do, John Bernard?

Shall we?

Hyah!

Good morning, Mrs. Rogers!

Mr. Sweeney.

Mike Sweeney?

John Bernard Books,

now, I'm flattered that
you remembered me.

You live around here now?

My spread's in the
foothills to the west.

Well, you look just like I
remember the Sweeneys...

mean and ugly.

Well, I heard that
you were in town

for a very short time.

That's true.

Drop by.

We'll talk about old times.

The good old times.

Ha ha ha!

You can bring your
fancy pillow,

and your landlady
is welcome, too.

Now, my problem is

that she never accepts
my invitation,

and to you two,
I say good-bye.

I'm surprised at the
company you keep.

That man is no friend.
Quite the reverse.

How do you know him?

I don't. I had some dealings

with his brother Albert once.

What happened?

Oh.

That's what worries
me, John Bernard...

the thought of your victims.

What worried me was survival.

Bond, I don't believe
I ever killed a man

that didn't deserve it.

Surely, only the
Lord can judge that.

Mr. Books!

Mr. Books?

Sir?

Are you hurt?

No.

But they are.

Call the marshal.

He got both of them.

They came in through the windows...
guns blazing.

Close your robe.

He's so damn fast,
he killed them both.

John Bernard Books in a
shootout right here.

Son of a bitch!

I will not have that
language in my house.

Sorry, but this
is a great day.

Our house is a
part of history.

You've got to know that.

That's nothing to be proud of.

I love that old man.

Gillom! All right!

It's time you knew.

He's dying.

Who?

Mr. Books.

I don't believe it.

He has a cancer.

You're lying.

He would have told me.

But he didn't tell you!

He told me.

He's dying.

Ma.

Ma.

You do understand?

That's the last of it.

Thank you, Mr. Hutchins.

My position as a teacher,

as a maiden lady,

I'm obliged to move
to another place.

Of course. I apologize.

We're ready to go!

Bye.

Some coffee?

Don't mind if I do.

Did you know those two?

Nope.

They sure knew you.

Who were they?

Ben Shoup, the one you killed

trying to get out the window.

The other named Norton...

Two no-goods, not
from around here.

I've never heard of them.

Quite a night.

Your bedroom looks
like a slaughterhouse.

Oh, Mrs. Rogers.

I'll post a man
outside nights.

That'll cost the
taxpayers $3.00 a night

and $10 apiece to
plant two corpses.

Death and taxes, Books.

Keeping you alive
to die natural

is costing us a pretty penny.

There's no need of
any man outside.

I'd 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 more
poorly every day?

You've 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.

Whooee! That was
some shooting.

Pulford, he's the faro dealer,

got off one round under fire,

straight through the heart,

and it measured 84'3".

Maybe I'll just send him here,

let him deal you
a little faro.

You do that, Marshal.

This is 19-aught-1.

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

We've got waterworks,
telephones, lights.

We'll have our streetcar
electrified by next year,

and we've started to
pave the streets.

We've still got
some weeding to do.

Once we're rid of
people like you,

we'll have a goddamn
Garden of Eden here.

To put it in a nutshell,

you've plain plumb
outlived your time.

to put it in a nutshell? You couldn't
put a barrel without a bottom

You're the longest-winded
bastard I ever listened to.

I may be windy, but
I ain't ornery.

When my time comes to die,

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

Why don't you?

Thibido...

I don't scare anymore.

Neither did Shoup or Norton.

You wouldn't gun down
a police officer.

What'd stop me, fear of dying?

# John Bernard Books #

# Lies amolderin'
in his grave #

# John Bernard Books #

# Lies amolderin'
in his grave #

# John Bernard Books #

# Lies amolderin'
in his grave #

# But his horse keeps #

# Gallopin' 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'll be a pleasure.

Right this way, please.

Yes, sir.

Now, let me see

where I put my spectacles

because I wouldn't
want to make no, uh...

financial mistake.

Yes, sir.

Here they are, Mr. Books.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

$100.

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 done agreed.

When?

When you sent Gilly...

I mean, when Mr. Rogers
said this morning

$100 would be just
fine with you.

I'll have to have a
talk with Mr. Rogers.

As far as the horse
goes, it's 3.

300?

300.

I might maybe can go 200.

You might maybe
go more than that

'cause you'll get more than
that 'cause it's mine.

3.

250.

3, and I'll throw the
saddle in for cash.

What about my bill?

You throw that in.

I ain't 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 haggler.

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.

1, 2, 3, 4.

That's 200. 200.

200 there.

20, 40, 60, 80, 90, 295.

No.

296?

No.

97?

98?

Sold.

You mean I did it?

Mr. Books, that makes
me the best haggler!

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'll 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 Ma's 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're...

Since I'm what?

You're dying.

How did you find that out?

Ma told me.

Guess I'm 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...

tangle him all up sometimes.

I've been operating on the
raw 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 hang
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 slugs 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's
right for me.

Yeah.

Wouldn't I like to see

him and Jack Pulford go at it.

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 wronged, I
won't be insulted,

I won't be laid a hand on.

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...

guts, deliberation, and a
proficiency 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 does you in.

But then, Bat Masterson

always was full of sheep dip.

Whoa. I hope you're
smart enough to know

that that who hit John
don't 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.

You still with Pardee?

No. He treated me
the way I did you.

He just up and skipped.

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'd have something to go on.

Not much.

I'd 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'd be Mrs. J.B. Books.

I'd be somebody.

That wouldn't buy
you any bacon.

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'll write it
and use my name.

The Shootist...

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'd 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 doesn't
know, he'll make up,

and, you know, gory things,

shoot-'em-ups and
midnight rides

and women tearing
out their hair.

It will be a corker,
I promise you.

Woman, I still
have some pride.

A man should be allowed
his human dignity.

I spent $3.00 on
the train here.

One-way.

You and Dobkins are two sides
of a counterfeit coin.

I'll pay you back.

I'll pay you both ways.

What's wrong about a book?

I'll not be remembered
for a pack of lies.

'Cause you're too damn
mule mean, that's why.

You always was.

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

I have to go on living,

and you don't give a hoot
in hell what happens!

Why should you? You
won't be here!

God. And I loved you once.

You bastard.

May you rot to death!

# 'Twas blighted affection #

# That made him exclaim #

# Oh, willow tit-willow #

# Tit-willow #

# And if you remain callous #

# And obdurate, 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 fettle today.

I should be. I'm
full of laudanum.

I'll 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 driven off
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?

That I was.

Oh, these clothes, uh...

they're my
Sunday-go-to-meetings.

I wish you'd give
them a good brushing.

Certainly.

They're getting pretty roady.

Nine days on the
back of a saddle

in a bedroll.

Wouldn't you rather
have them cleaned?

That's 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's Sunday.

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

'cause I'll need them first
thing Monday morning.

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

I'll brush them.

I'll get your ham and eggs.

Just biscuits will do.

My stomach's kind
of feeble 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 church 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, um...

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
pawing 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 what I've
already made of 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've already decided.

Maybe I'm no worse than
that good reverend.

Maybe you like being a gunman.

You probably prefer
the word shootist.

I don't think of
myself as either.

Oh, no. You're some
godlike creature

of infinite knowledge,
aren't you?

I'm a dying man
scared of the dark.

Damn you! Damn you for
the pain you've brought

into this house.

There we are, sir.

Mr. Books.

Yes, sir?

I'm Hezekiah Beckum,
the undertaker, sir.

How do you do?

I hope you don't
think my stopping by

is untimely, sir.

No, I admire a man
with get-up-and-go.

As the saying goes
in our profession,

the early worm gets the bird.

I, uh, admit to having heard
some unfortunate things.

I'd like to express
my heartfelt regret.

All right. What's
your proposition?

I'm prepared to
offer you embalming

by the most, uh,
scientific methods,

a bronze coffin guaranteed
good for a century

regardless of the climatic

or geological conditions,

my best hearse,

uh, the minister
of your choice,

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

a headstone of the
finest Carrera marble...

and a plot in
size and location

befitting 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, Beckum, you're
going to do to me

what they did to
John Wesley Hardin.

You're going to lay me out,

let the public gawp at
me for 50 cents a head,

10 cents for the children.

When the curiosity peters out,

you'll stick me in a hole

while you hurry to the
bank with your loot.

I assure you...

Give me a scrap of
paper and a pencil.

You assure me? What
good's 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 $50 cash.

Then early Monday morning,

you'll bring me a headstone.

I want a small headstone
with this written on it.

Nothing else.

No jabbery, no angels.
You got that?

Mr. Books, you're a hard man.

I'm alive.

Ah, very well.

I'll set my stonecutter

to work on the
inscription immediately.

Mr. Beckum.

The $50.

Oh. Hmm.

Thank you, sir.

Early worm, early worm.

That Beckum is just
what you say he is.

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

Not one bitty
penny, Mr. Books.

Why, to watch that
performance you done give,

I'd have paid $
10 in a theater.

Well, I may just accept
your generosity.

Besides, I may
just see if 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's got one of
those horseless carriages.

And now for the favor
I'm going to ask you.

You just tell me, sir.
Anything at all.

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

Today's the 27th, isn't it?

Yes, sir.

Now, that's 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'll be at the Metropole

at 11 A.M. On Monday the 29th,

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

Cobb's still in jail.

Yeah, well, tell him anyway.

Think you can do that for me?

Well, I know I can,

but, uh, Ma's going
to have conniptions

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

You can go to church first.

I telephoned Moses.

You can ride Old Dollar out
to the Sweeney spread.

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.

Ma, are you angry
at Mr. Books?

Why? What did he say?

Nothing. It's just...

Ma, I'm sorry.

I got to go run some
errands for Mr. Books.

I promised him.

Gillom.

Gillom.

I'll 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
wouldn't be a burden.

But you are, so let's
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 haven't seen
each other all day.

You're right there.

You know, Bond,

you're such a real
lady on the outside.

You're full of vim and
vinegar on the inside.

I just never met
anybody like you.

You're running low.

I better call Dr. Hostetler
and order some more.

No. This'll do.

Oh.

That Morning Appeal.

I've skimmed newspapers
all my life.

Never got the whole
good 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 done,

"I'll know for a fact
exactly what happened

on January 22nd in
the year 1901."

It was an important
day in my life,

and now I know.

Would you do me a favor

and give this honorable
incineration in my stove?

You're 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 dry-cleaning splendor

and my Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes,

I want you to promise
there'll 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, Ma. I'm fine.

I promise.

Thank you.

Well, sir, I got it done.

Good. How'd you get
along with Old Dollar?

Oh, he's a great horse.

You should've seen the look
on Marshal Thibido's face

when I rode up to the jail.

He must've thought I was you
coming to bust Cobb out.

Hardly me.

Which is just about what I did do

'cause Thibido's going to let Cobb out

long enough to meet you.

Good.

You'll never guess how Cobb took that.

I bet he jumped with joy.

He got all white,
scared to death.

Oh?

Now, 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 having him try his
luck at my faro table."

We'll have to give it a try.

Now, how about the other fella...
Sweeney?

You watch out for him, Mr. Books.

That man is mean,
and he hates you.

Well, we'll see if we can't
clear that up tomorrow.

Sir, what's...

Thank you. We both ought
to get some sleep.

Can I ask you something?

I'm tuckered out.
We'll talk tomorrow.

But I have to be out before sunup,

do the milk deliveries
while Cobb's in jail.

Then we'll both have a busy morning.

Before you go...

there's something I want to give you.

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

And I wouldn't offer it, Gillom.

But you like Old Dollar, don't you?

Best horse I ever rode.

Well, he's yours. I bought him back.

Here's the bill of sale.

Now let me get some sleep.

Sir?

Yeah?

When you asked me to do this,

I- I didn't realize...

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

Just take good care of Old Dollar.

Good night, sir.

Come in.

We got the headstone.
Mr. Beckum...

Good. Just put it there on the bed.

Beckum said as how he
done the best he could,

but there weren't much time.

Yeah, well, that'll be all right.

Well, I'll be goldarned,

if they ain't gone and
left the date off.

That'll be all right.

Yes, sir.

Thank you.

Early for you, ain't it?

Yeah, well, I'm
expecting somebody.

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

Sure.

John Bernard?

Oh.

How grand you look.

Thank you, Bond.

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

Yeah, but it's kind of smelly.

Well, that's the naphtha.

Oh, this is my birthday.

I, uh, haven't been to a
saloon for a long time,

and I thought I'd get a
drink and celebrate.

Happy birthday.

Thank you.

You have a beautiful day for it.

It's what we call false spring.

Good-bye, Mrs. Rogers.

Good-bye, Mr. Books.

Well, boy, here's your big chance.

Fame and fortune awaits.

After I put that old
man out of his misery,

I'm going to get you.

Sure, you will.

Don't wet your pants.

Marshal Thibido! May I
see you for a moment?

What's going on?

Shh! Dobkins, this is law business,

not newspaper business.

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

He's asked me for an article

on how city officials are reacting

to the presence of our famous shootist.

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

Whooee. Let's get the
hell off the street.

You tell them that's
Thibido with an "H."

Good morning.

Good morning, Mr. Books.

You don't give a fella very
long to board this thing.

Got a schedule to keep.

Good morning.

Good morning, sir.

Isn't it a beautiful day?

It sure is.

It's what we call a false spring.

Yes, sir?

Glass.

Mr. Sweeney...

care to try your luck?

Hmm.

Hmm.

Whoa!

Friend... for you.

What?

Make you a little more comfortable.

Well, sir, these old
bones surely thank you.

I sure hope the right
fella 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'll tell you
that was for Albert!

Look out!

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