Gunless

You, uh...

speaky...

English?

Do you?

You stink.

You don't say.

Oh...

think maybe you could unsnare me?

Oh... Oh.

Better untie me.

Pardon?

Ah, forget it.

God... dammit.

Where the hell am l?

- Barclay's Brush. - Where?

ln the Dominion of Canada.

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

Bonjour.

How can l help you?

Bullets.

Mon Dieu, we are...

we are fresh out of bullets. Um, perhaps l 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.

l've spilled bullets all over the counter.

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

- l need cartridges, 45.40 Colt.

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

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

Maybe we could settle up this account

a little later- - Sorry, no credit.

Your rules.

Oh, l see. lt's okay when you break the rules.

But when l 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."

l'll show you prohibition!

Free drinks!

Free whiskey

for anyone on my side...

... to some stranger who smells

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

Explain.

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

l'm not partial to insults.

But...

... seeing as one of you

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

l am affected by a rare blush of...

... compassion.

Put me down for three more.

And one carrot.

Son of a...

Ahem. Hey.

Ahem. Hey there, you two.

Either of you seen my mount?

lt's a chestnut

with a Cheyenne roll on the saddle. l 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?

That's my horse.

l believe he's in pain.

Reckon so. A stone bruise.

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

l retrieved a stray.

l've shot men for less.

- You need to reign in that temper, mister.

l ain't done.

He forged that hoof.

You ain't touchin' him.

- l 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!

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

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

Get...

your...

gun.

l'm callin' you out.

l said l'm callin' you out.

Hey, what...?

Ahem.

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

Jack! The windmill...

Ah, there's no rush.

lt'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. - ls 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, l know.

Well, hello again.

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

- l 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. l still gotta patch up that gluteus.

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

No. Where is my gun?

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

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

lt's a time-honoured tradition.

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

l can get- - What did you do?

l 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

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

Dammit.

Get outta my way. l'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.

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

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

that it's mechanically complex. Perhaps you need-

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

l'll just be a moment,

Mr. Montana.

Pardon my idiot partner's rudeness.

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

And some delicious ground nuts?

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

and you were to sell- - Boys, please,

l 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 l know what to order.

You just need a shear pin, all right?

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

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

Mr. Montana? - Order?

No, l 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!

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

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

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

- 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"?

l 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?

l guess so.

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

Sundown.

- 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?

What's wrong with you people?

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

And he might like my shotgun best.

- lt's not a turkey shoot. lt'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.

An Equalizer.