(John Marston enters the Sheriff's Office in Armadillo; inside, a deputy is sleeping)

John Marston: Excuse me.

Prisoner: Hey! Hey! You got a visitor.

(Prisoner laughs due to how slow Jonah gets up.)

Jonah: Shut up you! And what you want?

Marston: My name is John Marston. You wanted to speak with me.

Jonah: I did?

Marston: Apparently so.

Jonah: Why?

Marston: I guess because we're both in the business of the law.

Jonah: You that fella from the train company?

Marston: No, I'm from Fort Mercer.

Jonah: Fort Mercer? You them, one of them Williamson boys!

Marston: Calm down.

Prisoner: Go on, shoot him, mister! Shoot him.

Jonah: Go on being cute with me, boy?

(The Marshal enters the building to find Marston and Jonah pointing guns at each other)

Marshal: What's going on here?

Jonah: I got me one of them Williamson boys.

Marston: And I got me one of them idiots who give marshals a bad name.

Johnson: Jonah, put your gun down. You must be the man from Blackwater.

Marston: Yes, sir. Listen, that dog ain't too bright, but he seems loyal.

Johnson: Jonah, get out of here for a minute.

Jonah: Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson, sir. And you, oh, I done seen enough of your hide around here, friend.

Marston: (laughing) I think there's some schoolchildren down the way you can go frighten.

Jonah: Oh, hardy fucking harr! Dickhead.

Johnson: What are you doing here Mr. Marston, apart from frightening my deputies?

Marston: I'm here to capture or kill Bill Williamson.

Johnson: (laughing) Okay.

Marston: Can you help me?

Johnson: He's outside my jurisdiction, he's in the next county. Of course, Bill Williamson and his boys have tended to keep themselves away from my town.

Marston: So you're happy to have him out there?

Johnson: Well, I ain't happy, but I also ain't suicidal. My job is to keep this town safe, not clean up all of these three counties. It's hard enough around here.

Marston: Ya know...I hear you speak, and suddenly I'm reminded of how some of the people I respected most in my life had a problem with authority. What's wrong with you?

Johnson: Well, I'm sure you and your fine friends have enjoyed spending your time running around pursuing noble causes. My cause is to keep this town from turning into a living hell for the folks who live here. Whole world has problems, mister, and I'm here, doing what I can.

Marston: Why? What's happening?

Johnson: Right now? Well I got the railway, the people who pay my salary trying to get me to turn a blind eye to them burning down settlements up there. I got a bunch of cattle rustlers out near box canyon need shutting down, not forgetting the gang that keeps murdering homesteaders out in the back country, and I got a bunch of hoods over in the saloon, drunk, threatening to shoot up the whole town. That's all I got today, but it's early yet. Give me couple more days and there'll be more.

Marston: Alright, tell you what, let's go deal with them hoods, in the saloon, then we'll discuss Williamson.

Johnson: Okay, boy. You're a persistent little cuss, ain't ya?

Marston: Only when things matter.

Johnson: Let's head over to the saloon.

(Johnson and Marston leave the Sheriff's office and head toward the saloon)

Marston: So who we looking for?

Johnson: A bunch of two-bit hoodlums, led by this fella called Walton. Goddamn road agents who prey on the stages comin' in and out of town. Drivers in Armadillo spend more time with their hands in the air than on the reins these days.

Marston: And you're happy to let them drink in your saloon?

Johnson: Happy? No. But the way I figure it -- better they're carousin' in there than out robbin' decent folk.

Marston: That's an interesting approach to law enforcement.

(Johnson and Marston spot Walton Lowe leaving the saloon on horse)

Johnson: There's the dumb rat-bastard now. Let's follow him. See what kind of hole he crawls into. Mount up, Marston. Walton's our man.

(Johnson and Marston mount their horses and begin to tail Lowe)

Marston: If Walton's as bad as you say he is, why don't we just beef him now, while we got the chance?

Johnson: Because that ain't how the law works.

Marston: Is that right, Marshal?

Johnson: And alive, he can still talk.

Marston: Doesn't sound like he's a man to be reasoned with.

Johnson: He ain't. But a few days of my hospitality and he'll be tellin' me what I need to know. Walton's gang's been growing fast.

Marston: Outlawin's easy money for easy work.

Johnson: Cholla Springs, Gaptooth Ridge, these boys get around. Walton's a start, but there's plenty more where he came from.

(Johnson and Marston watch as Lowe approaches Pleasance House, but they are spotted by a gang member)

Link Huston: (laughing) Looks like we got company, boys!

Johnson: Damn. Take cover! We'll work our way up this hill.

(Marston works his way up the hill, killing the outlaws, before taking out Lowe)

Johnson: You're not a bad shot, Mr. Marston. Why don't you check in with me next time you're in town?

Marston: I don't want to be no policeman, Marshal.

Johnson: Nor did I, my friend, I can promise you that. I'll see you soon, Mr. Marston.

(Johnson rides off, with Lowe, leaving Marston at Pleasance House)

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