The Ox-Bow Incident

Looks deader than a Paiute's grave.

Well?

That guy's awful slow gettin' there.

I feel sorry for him. Always in reach and never able to do anything about it.

I got a feeling she could do better.

You're boasting.

What'll you have? Whisky?

- What've you got? - Whisky.

You ever see such a guy?

All winter I've been thinking... And all he's got is whisky.

- That's rotten, ain't it? - Rotten.

Two glasses and a bottle.

Well, what's on you boys' mind?

Does somethin' have to be on my mind?

Well, there's mud in your eye.

Friendly cuss, ain't he?

He's just getting around to asking if his girl is still in town.

His girl? If you mean Rose Mapen, no.

She went to Frisco the first stage out this spring.

That's a lie. She said she'd wait.

It's a fact.

What a town.

It's my guess the married women run her out.

Oh, no tar and feathers. No rails.

They just righteously made her feel uncomfortable.

Not that she ever did anything, but...

They just couldn't get over being afraid she might.

Say, what is there to do in this town anyway?

Unless you wanna get in line and woo Drew's daughter.

We don't.

The only other unmarried woman I know is 82, blind and a Paiute.

That leaves you five choices.

Eat, sleep, drink, play poker or fight.

Or you can shoot some pool. I got a new table in the back room.

That's just great.

- I see Risley's still around. - The sheriff?

I thought he never got closer than Reno except on special calls.

Hey, it wouldn't be that rustling folks we're talking about last fall?

Could be.

Gettin' to be a kind of touchy subject, huh?

They don't like to talk about it except with fellows they sleep with.

Afraid they'll find out it's somebody they know?

- Maybe. - They lose some more this spring?

- Some. - How many?

- About 600 head. - They got any leads?

They picked up a small-herd trail and signs of shod horses

down the south draw.

Wouldn't everybody know if there were strangers around?

Sure. And there hasn't been any.

Except you two.

- That ain't funny. - Now who's touchy?

You're talking about my business. Stick to my pleasures.

No offense, Carter. I just wanted to let you know where you two stand.

- Listen... - Take it easy, Gil.

He's had five whiskies, and he's sore about Rose Mapen.

- Keep your mouth shut about Rose, see. - OK, Gil.

I was just jokin'. You can take a joke, can't you?

Sure I can take a joke. Some jokes.

Lost any over your way?

No more than the winter and the coyotes are to account for.

You haven't got any ideas, have you, Farnley?

Except not to have ideas.

Make that clear.

There are a lot of things around here ain't clear.

You still talkin' about rustling?

And strangers.

Yippee!

Looks happy, don't he?

He just needed exercise.

Whenever he gets low in spirits or confused in his mind,

he doesn't feel right until he's had a fight.

It doesn't matter whether he wins or not.

He feels fine again afterwards.

Ain't that guy got there yet?

Holy cow! Now I'm gonna have to start all over again.

Somebody's sure in a hurry.

- Did Darby use his fist? - No, a bottle.

That's all right then.

- Hey, lay off Farnley, will ya? - Why should I?

Because you hit him pretty hard. You made him look foolish.

- Did I really get him? - I thought you busted his neck.

No foolin'.

- Why, that no good... - Shot right through the head, I tell ya.

Where'd it happen?

Down in the southeast corner of the valley, about eight miles from his ranch.

- You see him? - No, sir, but Olsen did.

He found him laying in a dry wash in the sun,

shot right through the head.

When?

About two o'clock, but he must've been shot earlier,

'cause they picked his horse up clear over near the ranch road.

- Any cattle missing? - They couldn't tell.

There been so many working that range down there.

- Olsen send you for us? - No, he's in such a hurry,

he just yelled at me to go get the sheriff.

Hey, Jeff. Jeff...

- Rustlers? - Looks that way.

- Who was it they got? - Kinkaid.

Kinkaid? Farnley's buddy?

Yeah.

They've been working together ever since they were kids.

All the way from the Panhandle to Jackson's Hole.

Sure, I knew him.

Short, dark Irishman. Didn't say very much. Liked to sing a lot.

These fellows will go a long way to get the guy that killed Larry Kinkaid.

Lynchin'?

I judge.

Got plenty of sand, but when he's mad, he's crazy!

Wait, Jeff! There's no rush.

Even if they have got a five-hour start.

It's a good 500 miles to the first border.

Besides, there may be a bunch of 'em.

It won't help Kinkaid now to get yourself killed.

That kid, Greene, got no idea which way they went.

- Better wait till we know what we're doing. - We're all with you about Kinkaid.

Only, we ought to take our time and form this posse right.

So if we go, we're sure to get what we go after.

OK. Make your posse.

Somebody better get the sheriff first thing. And Judge Tyler.

Oh, what do we want with old Tyler and his trials.

Yeah, one good fast job without no legal papers and that's all there is.

Remember, this ain't just rustling. It's murder.

Wait a minute, men.

Don't let's go off half-cocked and do something we'll be sorry for.

We want to act in a reasoned and legitimate manner,

not like a lawless mob.

Trouble with you, Davies, you've been store keep in' too long.

You don't see no profit in this.

If any of you fellas had offered to buy the rope from him...

If we go, you're going with us, fat gut.

Brother, I wouldn't miss it.

Only thing that'd bring me out any faster would be your necktie party.

Who knows, maybe this is yours.

I'll remember that and see you handle the rope.

In Texas where I come from, we go and get a man and string him up.

That's right. I say stretch 'em.

It ain't just a rustler we're after. It's a murderer.

Larry Kinkaid, one of the finest, most God-fearing men that ever lived

is lying out there right now with a bullet hole in his head.

If you let this go by, there won't be nothing safe around here.

Our cattle, our homes. Not even our womenfolks.

I'm with ya, Farnley.

I'm going to get me a gun and some rope, and I'll be right back.

And if nobody else will do it, me and you will do it ourselves.

Count me in too!

Come on, boys. Get your guns!

Listen to me, men! Don't lose your heads like this.

You mustn't do this thing. You must not!

Shut up, Grandma. Nobody expects you to go.

Don't take it so hard, Mr Davies. You did all you could.

- Will you do me a favour, Carter? - That depends.

I'm sending Joyce here for the sheriff and Judge Tyler.

I want you to go along and help explain.

You know how Art and I stand here. We came in at a bad time.

I've got to stay here and see if I can't stop 'em

till they realise what they're doing.

If I can make this thing regular, that's all I ask.

- Come on. Let's go. - Oh, wait a minute.

Do you know Mapes?

- The one they call Butch? - Yes.

The sheriff's made him deputy for times he's out of town.

And we don't want Mapes.

Well, they said I was to be the executioner, so I come all fixed.

Think I don't know my business, huh?

You don't look very well, Mr Davies.

Maybe you'd better stay home and rest up for the funeral.

Maybe you could get the flowers.

Boys wouldn't begrudge a few flowers, even for a rustler.

So long as he's a good dead one.

Get your hat and gun.

I'm not going, Father.

I don't wish any argument. Do as I say.

Perhaps this will do what I've obviously failed to do -

make a man of you.

Scrape your boots, put your hat on your hand and straighten your wig.

Well?

- Why, is the judge at home, ma'am? - Yes.

- Can we see him? - You got business?

No, we just dropped in for tea.

Very funny.

Mr Davies sent us, ma'am. It's awfully important.

It's not regular office hours.

That the judge's better half?

His housekeeper. His wife's dead.

Well, you can see why there's times

when the judge don't seem to be able to make up his own mind.

Come in! Come in!

He says come in!

Well, well, Carter, how are things out in your neck of the woods?

All right, I guess, Judge.

You don't appear to have been pining away, exactly, since last I saw you.

And what can I do for you gentlemen?

We're here for Mr Davies.

Oh. How is my friend Davies? Well, I trust.

Yes, but could we see you alone for a minute, Judge?

- Oh, a matter of a private nature, eh? - Yes, sir.

Mr Davies said particularly just you and Sheriff Risley.

Risley ain't here. He deputised me.

Where'd the sheriff go?

Down to Kinkaid's ranch early this morning.