DOC: Oh yeah, they had ’em. Remember one, name a Doc Carter. Mule Doctor I believe he was. Little got to be known as the man on account a the fact he was riding the shirttails of a certain William F. Cody. A pure peacock. All strut, no gut. Anyhow, this Doc Carter came to be known as “The Spirit Gun of the West,” and a welldeserved title it was too. Man could shoot the hump offa buffalo on the backside of a nickel at a hundred paces. Cody used him as his dupe in all his Wild West Shows. Old Buffalo Bill would be out there pantomiming with blanks while Doc Carter sat tight behind a screen and plunked them silver nickels right outa thin air. Amazing spectacle, I was told. Old Doc never got out from behind the shadow a that Cody. I suppose nowadays he’d just take over the whole show, like I hear tell some a these Gypsies are.

HOSS: That’s what you hear?

DOC: Rumors. Rumblings. You know.

HOSS: Whole System’s gettin shot to shit, ain’t it, Doc? The Code. Keepers. Markers. The whole fandango.

DOC: Well, I wouldn’t go that far.

HOSS: These might be the very last days of honor. They might well be.

BECKY: Doc, haven’t you got something to turn him around? He’s been on this tailspin whim from sunup.

HOSS: There’s no Cure for this. Ain’t that right, Doc? No medicine to turn this squall around and force it back north. It’s coming.

DOC: Well, there does seem to be some ripples in the air but I wouldn’t put too much stock in a bunch of banditos runnin around shaking their tail feathers. You’ve got the history behind you. Experience. No replacement for that.

HOSS: It’s all replaceable. Every inch.

BECKY: Hoss, you’re knockin right at the top, hombre. Right at the top. Number one with a bullet. That gold’s as good as in your palm. Now you gotta just knuckle down here and draw a line on this vandal. Zone in before he ever even gets to the moat.

HOSS: Maybe I need a little change a pace. Vacation or something.

BECKY: Vacation? Matando’s full-time boogie Hoss. There’s no vacation.

DOC: I heard about one little place. An island, where they don’t play the Game. Everybody’s on Downers all day long.

HOSS: That sounds choogin. What about that. Maybe you could line that up for me, Doc. All I need’s a week or two. Just to gear down.

DOC: I’ll see what I can do.

(DOC exits. HOSS with BECKY.)

HOSS: (stoned, sings to himself) “Take out the papers and the trash. Or you don’t get no spendin cash.” Who wrote that?

BECKY: Hoss? You trippin?

HOSS: (sings to himself) “Just tell your hoodlum friend outside. You ain’t got time to take a ride.”