The Shootist

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.