Wild Bill

His funeral was on a blistering hot August afternoon,

just outside the town of Deadwood.

I suppose there was a rough justice to it,

the way he met his end after sending so many others to early graves.

It didn't make the moment easier on any of his friends.

I don't know why he never slept in my bed sinced he come to Deadwood.

Only got interested once.

The timing was just wrong.

Too much had happened to him before he got here.

I was awful attached to him.

All of us were. He had that kind of effect on people.

I got a feeling maybe in some ways you knew him best, Charley.

You know, I don't mind you shootin' glasses off of my dog's head, Marshal,

but fondlin' him like that, you'll ruin him for fightin'.

That dog's bred for fightin'. You oughta understand that.

You've had more fights than anybody.

He fashioned himself as just an ordinary man, in no way special.

But, of course, that was a deception.

By luck or design, it had fallen to him to play the hero's part,

and, to the very end, he embraced his fate.

Two damn weeks, ain't a damn sight of a buffalo.

Never thought it possible. How's a man supposed to make a livin'?

That's a funeral platform.

Must be on some kind of vigil for the dead Indian next to him.

Says he's a Sioux, named He Who Whistles.

He's a chief.

That's his wife lying there next to him.

They had to leave a tribe.

They couldn't find no buffalo.

Figured since he'd failed his people and he'd failed his wife,

he had to go off and find his own medicine.

Said he had a dream.

Had to fight a white-eye with long hair.

That looks to be you, Bill.

What the hell does this whistler want to fight me for?

His religion.

He wins, his people live.

He's gonna hang your scalp on a lodge pole.

Tell him I'm sorry about his woman and his tribe.

Tell him thanks, and I'll be on my way.

He wants me to show some color.

Fine.

- Don't kill him, Bill. - Man knows what he wants!

Bad luck to kill an Indian in a religious frame of mind!

He chose it!

He must have got more than 20 hides out there. Winter prime.

Them hides'll fetch a dollar apiece in Omaha. Let's run him off. What say you?

First feller who shows up today gonna buy a drink, and you're gonna run him off.

Whiskey.

It'd be awfully neighborly if you was to buy me a drink.

I generally only buy whiskey for my friends.

I don't see no reason why a man come in here and insult me.

Watch his gun!

Oh! I'm shot!

You oughta understand, you ever touch another man's hat.

"Ma, Ma, who's my pa?"

"Wild Bill Hickok. Ha-ha-ha."

Please, Mr Wild Bill. Don't shoot me now. I ain't done nothin' wrong.

- Don't shoot me, Mr Wild Bill. - What's this about?

I kicked some drunk soldier's ass around about a week ago. Threw him in jail.

Figure these are his friends.

- Maybe you oughta apologize. - I don't apologize!

Not to you or anybody else. Not ever.

Shouldn't touch another man's hat.

I ain't wearin' no pistols.

Aaaagh!

Take 'em, Bill. They're gonna kill you.

Damn you! Kill him!

Yee-ha!

Yee-ha!

- Just funning, Marshal. - Where are you from?

Texas, 50 miles north of Waco. I work for.

I'm a Union man.

Fought four years against your kind.

- You been firing that weapon, Phil? - Lots of fellers here.

I'm not talking to them, I'm talking to you!

You got an explanation why you was firing that weapon, breaking a city ordinance?

What's the matter, Bill? You miss me? That why you're mad at Phil here?

You'd best hand over the gun, Phil.

Otherwise I'm just gonna have to step over there and slap you around some.

Who else?!

Bill!

He's dead. You shot your own deputy.

He shot Phil Coe, then he shot Mike Williams.

I'm gonna go get my shotgun, then I'm gonna go get my horse.

By the time I get back, I see one son of a bitch on the street, I'll kill 'em.

After Abilene, Bill was at loose ends.

He drifted East and accepted the invitation of his friend Buffalo Bill Cody

to join his theatrical production "Scouts of the Plains".

As a thespian he was, by all reports, simply dreadful.

And now, my friends, a true story of courage as actually lived and fought

by my dear friend of many years, James Butler Hickok,

known throughout the West as Wild Bill!

I say, Wild Bill, where have you been?

I say, old pard, where have you been?

What has detained you so long?

I was riding my horse, Black Nell, peacefully along the river

when I was corralled by a party of hostiles.

Hostiles? What kind of hostiles?

Indians!

Yes. What tribe of Indians, Wild Bill?

- They were Sioux. Sioux Indians. - And who was their chief?

Up there! Turn down the damn light. Damn near blind a feller.

I say, Wild Bill, who was their chief?

Keep your eyes open.

You have glaucoma, Mr Hickok.

It's often a result from too much proximity to, uh infected females.

Keep your eyes straight ahead. If you take my meaning.

I had some trouble about ten years back.

Cleared right up when the local doc stuck a hot wire up my privates.

How bad's it gonna get?

You are losing your eyesight, Mr Hickok.

May take two years,

may take ten.

I expect I just spent too much time staring at the prairie sun.

By the summer of the nation's centennial,

Bill had become an idle drifter.

Like myself, he was addicted to whiskey, cards, and the wastrel's life.

My name is Charles Prince, English born and educated,

but for reasons of temperament, America had become my adopted home.

As I much prefer to observe life in the raw, I took myself west.

I was not disappointed.

Mighty interesting game, poker.

Can't tell you how many times in my life I've gone bust.

Yes, but it's not the same for you. You don't know what real poverty is.

Everybody wants to buy the great Wild Bill dinner or drinks.

This pot is mine. Three kings.

Mr Hickok?

Mr Hickok, there's a man in the street gonna give me a dollar

to come in here and tell you that you're a coward, and a wife stealer.

and I can't say the rest, but it was much worse.

What'd he say?

Bill Hickok!

I'm callin' you out!

Hickok!

You gonna ride or hide? What's the matter?

Afraid of a cripply old man in a wheelchair who can't even face you, are you?

What'd he say?

He said that you were a horse molester.

He say what horse?

What, are you hidin'?

The great Wild Bill Hickok is actually inside hidin'?

- What's this? - Wild Bill in a wheelchair!

Needless to say, Bill, all good fortune.

I never saw a greater compliment to Bill

than that paid by the citizens of Cheyenne.

Their confidence in his marksmanship was such that none of them ran for cover,

but lined up as if they were watching some athletic contest.

- A whiskey, please. Neat. - You ain't gonna go out and watch this?

I don't think my friend needs my help.

I generally stay in the bar when he gets involved with this sort of affair.

You just help yourself, cos I ain't gonna miss it.

Here's to you, Bill.

This dispute had begun two years before, when one Ed Plummer had called Bill out.

Some said the reason was a gambling debt.

Others claimed that it involved a woman.

Bill discovered that the Plummers regarded the affair as a family matter.

Argh! My leg!

I can't move my leg!

Aaargh!

Damn it, Will Plummer. I already shot you once when you tried to bushwhack me.

You hear that? The man is accusing me.

Imagine that.

Have you forgotten, Mr Hickok, that I am the aggrieved party here?

You must be drunk or gone crazy, Will.

Now, if you got any sense left, you'll just head on home.

No, no. You're not gonna get off that easy.

You took the life from my brother.

And you left me a crippled old man in a wheelchair.

You, sir, will die!

Mister, Wild Bill just shot Will Plummer dead.

Then he told me to come ask you if you'd mind to get the lead out of your ass.

sir and come outside and help untie him.

Will Plummer, rest in peace.

We owe God a death.

Bill chose to move on to the town that was the talk of the entire West.

Gold had been discovered a year before.

"Get rich quick" was in the air.

From raw wilderness, suddenly up came this hell-roaring place called Deadwood.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

You, uh, haul our bags over to the tent city.

Tell 'em to find room for Bill Hickok and a friend.

How are the eyes, Bill?

Going to be a lot of strangers in this town.

Ah, I can see OK straight ahead.

The sides are narrowin' in, and it hurts.

Comes and goes, but hurts like hell when it's on you.

This town. I really think it's like something out of the Bible.

- What part of the Bible? - The part right before God gets angry.

Deadwood was a haven for cardsharps, con men,

thieves, killers, roughs, drunks, pimps and whores.

along with those arbiters of disputes: Whip, fist, knife and pistol.

These two fellers must have caused some trouble.

No trouble, just a couple of card cheats.

That's the worst kind of feller.

Man that cheats at cards ain't got no religion.

Howdy, Jane.

Howdy, Bill.

Boys! This here is James Butler Hickok.

Everybody to the bar! Drinks are on Bill!