Laws of Man

Come on

Dammit.

Come on, you gotta be kidding me.

I'm surprised it lasted that long.

You know, you'd think that a bunch of Mormons

who got together in their little covered wagons

and made it all the way out west

to build their city on top of a patch of salt,

that maybe, just maybe, they'd build a radio tower.

But no, not the Mormons.

Well,

we're in Miller County.

What's that mean?

It means there's not so much as a gas station

between here and Nevada.

You should have brought a book.

Think they'd spring for us

to be put up in Salt Lake City for one night, huh?

One night.

Salt Lake City?

- Yeah. - What would you have done

in Salt Lake City?

Tipped cows?

You kidding me?

All those Mormon girls with no booze,

no dancing, no culture,

just fighting over some frozen

- peckerwood preacher. - Hey,

look sharp.

Is that our man?

Looks nothing like him.

Howdy.

Dang thing blew a gasket.

I don't think I can fix it.

I don't think you can.

Ain't no water out here,

and Sulphurdale's ten mile that way.

I'd be obliged if you help me out.

Help with what?

You got a spare gasket back there?

Well, I reckon, I don't know for sure it's the gasket.

I've been working on it all day.

It's all busted up.

This old jalopy's got a ton of miles on her.

I'm lucky you came along while you did.

Ain't nothing out here

but critters and Mormons farming oats.

Ambush!

Don't move.

Drop your guns or I shoot.

Both of you.

You move, I shoot him.

Okay.

Don't shoot.

I got 'em.

Crash, I got 'em.

Yeah.

He got 'em.

Pilgrims!

I am Crash Mooncalf with the Crash Mooncalf Gang.

And I run this here part of this here state.

And you passing through my part of this here state,

means you owe me debt.

Jimmy!

Collect my debt, huh?

Mr. Mooncalf says you owe debt, city boy.

I have no money.

He says he ain't got no money.

Bullshit!

That's a brand new car.

Those are brand new fancy-pants suits, huh?

Fancy-pants suits.

If you don't put your limp-wristed

hands high in the air

and step out with your billfolds spilling cash money,

I'm gonna air you fuckers out.

Hey, we don't want any trouble.

We'll give you our money, okay?

Tommy.

My billfold's in my pocket.

I'm gonna grab it slow.

Don't shoot.

All right?

Here we go.

I got 600

right here.

Okay?

I got 600 right here.

My partner's got a thousand.

Take the money, you let us go.

No!

Get 'em.

Hey!

Hold your fire!

You down there!

It's just the two of you.

Now, drop your guns.

Can't do that, Mr. Mooncalf!

My name is Frank Fenton.

My partner and I are U.S. Marshals.

I have a warrant for your arrest

signed by a federal magistrate judge

in Ormsby County, Nevada.

That means drop your guns, dumbass!

Nothing doing, Marshal.

I got a bead on your man in the car.

You drop your guns.

He ain't got a bead on shit, Frank.

There's no need to spill any more blood today,

Mr. Mooncalf.

Let's negotiate.

Negotiate?

I can talk him down.

Mr. Mooncalf, use your head.

You got two marshals right here

and a hundred on your tail if we go down.

There's only one way this ends.

I'm a crack shot.

We're both crack shots.

You best back off.

You best back off!

We can take them, Frank.

There's only one way, Mr. Mooncalf.

You know that.

Come on!

Damn you, Marshal!

Damn it, Tommy!

Cover me!

Hot damn, Frank.

I got that sucker dead to rights.

You see that?

What in the hell was that?

What?

What?

Don't put your hands on me.

Our job is serving warrants

and bringing in fugitives alive.

You know that!

For God's sake, we had him.

He would have surrendered.

He wasn't gonna surrender.

I did the job so you didn't have to.

You're welcome.

Don't you walk away from me.

Don't you touch me!

You negotiate first.

Then shoot.

You do not go in guns blazing every time!

That gang killed families, Frank.

We stopped the bad guys.

That's the job.

Tommy,

this isn't a cowboy movie.

Yeah, well, sometimes a cowboy's what you need.

I'm gonna call it in.

Fillin' her up?

Just topping off.

You here for the sheriff?

Only reason anybody in a suit's gonna be in Gilead

is to drive down to the county seat in Fort Tipton

and see the sheriff.

Is that so?

Well, ever since the murders.

The sheriff ain't in his office.

Where is he?

He's up off the State Line Road

at the McCluskey homestead.

What's left of it.

Well, I guess that's where we're headed.

Yep, well,

they was murdered.

The McCluskeys.

All of 'em.

You need anything for the road?

I'll take a 7-UP.

Got anything a little stronger?

Hey, you want one?

No, thanks.

Suit yourself.

We got the federal warrant served before lunch.

What do you think the odds are we can make it a twofer

and get this rinky dink state warrant served before supper?

I wouldn't hold my breath.

This one might get complicated.

Sheriff.

What?

I'm Frank Fenton.

This is my partner, Tom.

We're U.S. Marshals.

Marshals?

Where's the coroner?

Paiute County has no coroner.

They got me and my deputy.

Yeah, middle of nowhere here, huh?

I live here.

This is Paiute country.

Only flat dicks in DC think this is the middle of nowhere.

Now pick that up.

And, uh, feel free to look around.

Best we can tell is that the perps entered here.