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Once Upon a Time CD2

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You killed 'em.
Who are you?
- Who are you, you...|- Frank!
The woman.
We're only losing time.
Alright. This time,|I'll take care of her personally.
Yeah, it ought to be easy for you.
Keep him warm for me.
If he gives you any trouble, hit him.
Not in the mouth.|He's got to talk. And plenty.
Meet me at the Navajo cliff.
Keep an eye|on that cripple all the time.
Sure, Frank.
- See anyone?|- No.
There he is.
You only know how to shoot?
Or do you know how to cut, too?
You.
Wait a minute.
Let's have a good look at you.
Mr Choo-Choo.
It's easy to find you. Bastard.
I don't have to kill you now.
You leave a slime behind you|like a snail.
Two beautiful shiny rails.
There's another bastard.
And he's getting further away|every minute.
There it is.|What your husband ordered from me.
And seeing as how he paid cash,|it all belongs to you.
Oak planks, beech, pine.
All first-grade lumber.
And there's beams|and foundation pylons.
Ten kegs of nails, 20 barrels of tar,|and all these tools.
Maybe he wanted|to enlarge the farmhouse.
Enlarge the farmhouse?
He could have built|at least eight of them.
By the way, ma'am,
McBain also ordered this.|Said it was important.
Only it seems he forgot to tell|me what he wanted printed on it.
{y:i}Station.
How's that again?
I said print "station".
Looking for this?
I've had enough|of your butcher tactics.
I know that woman is here.
I don't want|any more useless killing.
I'm ready to make a deal|for that land.
To pay what's necessary.
I don't want to waste any more time.
You've made a big mistake, Morton.
When you're not on that train, you|look like a turtle out of its shell.
Just funny.
Poor cripple talking big|so nobody'll know how scared you are.
I'm here to make a deal, Frank.
I don't have time|to compete with you.
Compete?
Why, you... You can't even|stand on your own feet by yourself.
Is that sufficient|to make you feel stronger?
I could squash you|like a wormy apple.
Sure, but you won't do it.
Because it's not to your advantage.
Who knows how far you'd have gone|with two good legs.
Help him back to the train.|Keep your eye on him.
Morton.|Don't worry about the land.
If you feel like paying for it,|you can pay.
It won't make any difference to you,|dealing with the new owner.
Cheyenne!
There's a square staked out here.|It says "water tank".
Over here, too.|Only, it says "post office".
And this one says "corral".
And this here "church".
What the hell is this?
Can't you see?
It's a station.
And all around it, a town.
Brett McBain's town.
Was he crazy!
Yeah, in a very special way.
An Irishman.
He knew that railroad coming through|Flagstone would continue on west.
So he looked over|all this country out here
until he found this hunk of desert.
Nobody wanted it.
But he bought it.
Then he tightened his belt,|and for years, he waited.
Waited for what?
For the railroad to reach this point.
But how could he be sure the railroad|would pass through his property?
Them steam engines|can't roll without water.
And the only water for 50 miles|west of Flagstone is right here.
Under this land.
He was no fool, our dead friend.
He was going to sell this piece|of desert for its weight in gold.
You don't sell|the dream of a lifetime.
Brett McBain wanted his station.
He got the rights to build it.
- How do you know all this?|- I saw a document.
It was all in order.|Seals, signatures, everything.
One thing, though.
In very small print,|there is a short clause,
which says that McBain or his heirs|lose all rights
if, by the time|the railroad reaches this point...
...the station ain't built yet.
Speaking of railroads,|I noticed the rail gang's already...
I noticed the rail gang's|already behind those hills.
And before you know it,|they're gonna be here.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Listen.
Harmonica.
A town built around the railroad.
You could make a fortune.
Hundreds of thousands of dollars.
More than that.
Thousands of thousands.
They call them millions.
Millions?
- Yeah, millions.|- Yeah.
I always thought it'd be easier|to make a deal with a smart lady.
All you gotta do is...
What in the hell|are you standing around for?
Chief, what are we supposed to do?
What are you supposed to do?
Build a station, idiots!
I figure|it ain't gonna look like much.
But it'll be the first thing she sees|when she gets back.
If she gets back.
I think...
Yeah.
I'm beginning to think I might be|a little sorry killing you.
You like being alive.
You also like|to feel a man's hands all over you.
You like it.
Even if they're the hands of the man|who killed your husband.
What a...
What a little tramp.
Is there anything in the world|you wouldn't do to save your skin?
Nothing, Frank.
Now I understand|why they miss you so much...
...down there in New Orleans.
Great invention, the telegraph.
"Jill? The brunette?"
"The customers of the most elegant|whorehouse on Bourbon Street
have been weeping|ever since she left."
Say, tell me.
Did old McBain know?
Yeah.
Yeah, I bet he did.
He was just the type|to marry a whore.
It's an idea.
I could marry you.
And the land would become mine.
And maybe...
...you'd make a perfect wife.
It would be me who wouldn't be|any good as a husband.
Too bad.
We'll have to think|of another solution.
Simpler.
Quicker.
As sheriff of this county,
I've been asked to preside|over the sale by auction
of all property belonging to|Mrs Jill McBain, here present.
This parcel of land|measures 320 acres.
It's free of all encumbrances,|liens and mortgages.
This property and all it contains,
lock, stock and barrel,
will be turned over to the lucky|purchaser at the time of sale.
All the contents therein|are listed by number
on the inventory sheet|distributed among you.
The entire property will be sold|in block to the highest bidder.
Alright. That's clear to everybody.
I declare the auction open.
Now, who's going to make|the first bid?
A list of all the items.|Some of them are worth money.
Alright. Now,|who's going to make the first bid?
$200.
Well, I have an opening bid of $200.
$200. Do I hear more?
That stinking piece of land|ain't worth it.
Come on, my friends, $200.
The livestock alone|is worth twice that much.
Well...
Who's going to bid $300?
Now, look, friends, I realise|we're not offering California here,
but 200 is damn little|for all that property.
Ladies and gentlemen, I wouldn't|even take 200 as a deposit.
Well, nobody's going to bid it up.
You're sure you wouldn't want|to set a minimum price?
I wish I were wrong, Mrs McBain,
but you're liable to end up selling|the place for a plate of beans.
All I want is to sell.
- You're fat.|- If you say so.
- How many?|- One card.
One for me.
Dealer takes three.
Can I take a hand?
15.
Yeah, sit down.
I'll deal.
How do you...
How do you play this game,|Mr Morton?
It's very simple.
As long as you use your head,|you never lose.
$500.
$500.
Do I hear any other bids?
I don't think so.
I'm sorry, Mrs McBain,
but I think I'm gonna have to|knock down on that last bid.
$500 once.
$500 twice.
- $500...|- $5,000.
- You said $5,000?|- It's on its way.
It's Cheyenne!
The reward for this man|is $5,000, that's right?
Judas was content with $4,970 less.
There were no dollars in them days.
But sons of bitches, yeah.
Wait a minute.
- The jail's that way.|- Yeah, I know.
Yeah, but you're going|to the railroad station.
I'm sending you to Yuma, Cheyenne.
They got a modern jail there.
It's got more walls, more bars,|more guards.
You'll like it, in 20 years.|You'll see.
Two tickets, "amigo,"|to the next station.
One way only.
Here's to you. And congratulations.
You got yourself a good deal.
The auction.
Forget it. I don't invest in land.
You don't look at all like the noble|defender of poor defenceless widows.
But then again...
...I don't look|like a poor defenceless widow.
Cheyenne's right.|You're a remarkable woman.
And you're a remarkable man.
But you have something on your mind.
Have you got something|on your mind?
Hot water.|A bathtub full of hot water.
I think it's time|I filled that bathtub.
Who are you?
Jim Cooper.
Chuck Youngblood.
More dead men.
They were all alive|until they met you, Frank.
You paid $5,000|for something that belongs to me.
5,000...
...plus one.
You've got a right|to make a profit, too.
I wouldn't take too long|thinking about it, if I were you.
You got yourself|into something bigger than you.
You got a chance to get out easy.|You better take it.
You sound like a real businessman,|Frank.
Being with Mr Morton's|done you a lot of good.
And you've learned|some new methods.
Yeah, Mr Morton|has shown you a lot of new ways.
Even though|you haven't given up the old ones.
Pick any method you like.|Just make the deal.
Which deal, Frank?
We have more than one, you and me.
We can lump them together|into one bundle, settle all of them.
Here and now.
Easy, Frank.
Easy.
You gotta learn not to push things.
Taking it easy is the first thing|a businessman should do.
I got an idea|Mr Morton can teach you a lot more.
How much?
One dollar.
Giddy up!
Giddy up!
I'd swear we're going to have|that strange sound.
Right now.
Time sure flies.
It's already past 12.
But they were his men.
- Yeah.|- And they tried to kill him.
They found somebody|who pays better.
And you! You saved his life.
I didn't let them kill him.|That's not the same thing.
Sure.
It's not the same thing.
You get dressed.
It's time to go home.
Did you make coffee?
This time I did.
Good.
My mother|used to make coffee this way.
Hot, strong and good.
Cheyenne.
What's he waiting for out there?
What's he doing?
He's whittling on a piece of wood.
I got a feeling|when he stops whittling...
...something's gonna happen.
Surprised to see me here?
I knew you'd come.
Morton once told me|I could never be like him.
Now I understand why.
Wouldn't have bothered him, knowing|you were around somewhere alive.
So you found out|you're not a businessman after all?
Just a man.
An ancient race.
Other Mortons will be along|and they'll kill it off.
The future don't matter to us.
Nothing matters now.
Not the land,|not the money, not the woman.
I came here to see you.
Cos I know that now|you'll tell me what you're after.
Only at the point of dying.
I know.
I heated some water for you.|I also found a razor.
Put it there, please.
So I can watch the railroad move up|while I shave.
You know what?
If I was you, I'd go down there|and give those boys a drink.
You can't imagine
how happy it makes a man|to see a woman like you.
Just to look at her.
And if one of them|should pat your behind...
...just make believe it's nothing.
They earned it.
Keep your loving brother happy.
Who are you?
You're sort of a handsome man.
But I'm not the right man.
And neither is he.
Maybe not.
But it doesn't matter.
You don't understand, Jill.
People like that|have something inside.
Something to do with death.
If that fella lives,|he'll come in through that door,
pick up his gear and say "adios."
It would be nice|to see this town grow.
Now I gotta go.
Gonna be a beautiful town,|Sweetwater.
I hope you'll come back someday.
Someday.
Yeah. I gotta go, too.
Make believe it's nothing.
Sorry, Harmonica.
I gotta stay here.
Who?
I ran into Mr Choo-Choo.
I didn't count on|that half-man from the train.
He got scared.
Harmonica.
When they do you in,
pray it's somebody|who knows where to shoot.
Go away.
Go away.
Go away.|I don't want you to see me die.
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