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25.000 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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