Tombstone Territory

[before the title card of each episode]

Harris Claibourne:
[narrating] An actual account from the pages of my newspaper, the Tombstone Epitaph. This is the way it happened... in the town too tough to die.

[first lines]

Harris Claibourne:
[narrating] Tombstone, Arizona Territory: the night of May 28, 1886.

Big Bill Hartley:
Sally, listen to me...

Sally Wilson:
You listen to me! I'm going to leave here someday and when I do, it's not going to be with any motheaten prospector who's all mine talk and no mine. I'm going to respectable. I'm going to have a sparkler on this finger that will blind you in the sun. I'm going to have furs all over me. You go back to digging your ditches and leave me alone.

[last lines]

[looking into the collapsed mine shaft]

Harris Claibourne:
Silver...

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Looks like dirt.

[first lines]

Harris Claibourne:
A road near Tombstone, Arizona Territory, September 16, 1889: Wally Jobe and Chick Umber - professional killers hired by the Hammond faction of the Tanner-Hammond land and cattle feud, a bloody range war spreading throughout the territory. So far 23 men had died - every road outside of Tombstone was a potential deathtrap.

Fred Tanner:
You know the real reason I'm glad it's finished? After three years of shooting and killing, it's not so much the land anymore, it's what this sort of thing has done to me. It's what it might do to my son. Les was 14 when it started; he's 17 now and figures he's big enough to help out with a gun... or be killed by one.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Listen carefully, Jobe. As far as I'm concerned you and your partner are nothin' but murderers, amnesty or no. But I'm not going to run you out of town, 'cause I want you here - I want you real close. And if you so much as wiggle a trigger finger, I'm going to haul you in.

Wally Jobe:
Sheriff, we ain't goin' to wiggle nothin', 'less somebody else wiggles first... In case you want us, we'll be over in the Oriental saloon, celebratin' our new standin' in the community.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Jobe! There's somethin' for you to remember. There's one man the amnesty doesn't include.

Wally Jobe:
Who?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Me.

Harris Claibourne:
An amnesty is a truce to stop wanton killings - a seering medicine to heal the gaping wounds of war, but which can leave little sores of infection to fester and spread.

[last lines]

Harris Claibourne:
Jobe had it figured right at the Oriental.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
What do you mean?

Harris Claibourne:
Wonder if he knew he was playing for such high stakes when he said this was the only town he was ever in where a singleton ace beats two of a kind.

[first lines]

Harris Claibourne:
Tombstone, Arizona Territory: July 1, 1887.

[Armbruster tears a $500 bill in two parts and hands half to Reardon]

Deke Reardon:
When I said half in advance, I meant spendin' money, not this.

David Armbruster:
Would you prefer I contact someone else, Mr. Reardon? Well?

Deke Reardon:
He'll be on a slab before dark tomorrow.

Harris Claibourne:
Your own words prove you're wrong. You said Reardon was a hired gun, right?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Right.

Harris Claibourne:
Well, a hired killer has to be hired. Whoever does the hiring usually has a reason for wanting somebody killed. Now who would want to have Armbruster killed?

[Clay holds up half of a $500 bill]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Whoever has the other part of this.

Dan Harlan:
That judge said I was supposed to hang, Sheriff, not starve to death!

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Is there anything special you want?

Dan Harlan:
Yeah - a hacksaw and a gun!

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Will you settle for a steak?

[describing the route from Tombstone to Prescott to Armbruster, an English journalist]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Three hundred miles of rugged mountain country. It may not be Kyber Pass, but we have a healthy respect for it.

David Armbruster:
Well, are we a tiger this morning, or a little lamb being led to the slaughter? Speaking of tigers, they need claws, don't they?

[offers Harlan, a convicted murderer, his pistol]

[first lines]

Harris Claibourne:
[narrating] Tombstone, Arizona Territory: August 4, 1881

Harris Claibourne:
[narrating] An actual account from the pages of my newspaper, The Tombstone Epitaph - this is the way it happened in the town too tough to die.

[Clay and his deputy try to disarm Curly Bill and his gang]

Curly Bill:
Go ahead, Monk. It's a Mexican standoff.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
And if the shootin' really starts, it'll look like the Alamo.

Harris Claibourne:
Radcliffe? He just wants you killed so he can get his own man appointed sheriff.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
You're bein' uncharitable. I think he'd rather I resign.

Harris Claibourne:
How many men you takin'?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Take a lot of men, somebody's bound to get killed.

Harris Claibourne:
But what about you? Nobody'll save you ridin' into Galeyville. You should be takin' the Fort Huachuca cavalry.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
I'm takin' this. I've seen this ol' scattergun take the fight out of a lot of men at close quarters. You know, outlaws are a peculiar breed. Don't mind gettin' killed with a nice, clean bullet, but they get real jumpy when they might get messed up with a shotgun.

Mag Davis:
It's not often we see your kind up here.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Lawman?

Mag Davis:
No... Just your kind.

Monk:
You tricked me! All that talk - a dirty Johnny Law trick!

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
The trick is to stay alive.

[first lines]

Harris Claibourne:
[narrating] Tombstone, Arizona Territory: June 6, 1882. The West spawned many different types of men and one of the most dangerous was Whit Purcell.

[Clay spots Whit Purcell in front of the general store]

Harris Claibourne:
What's wrong?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
A vulture just rode into town.

Harris Claibourne:
Him? Are you joking? That's about the mildest looking man I've ever seen. He's not even wearing a gun!

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Whit Purcell does his killing without one. He's what you might call a killer's agent. He makes his living by arranging for murders.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
You act like what I told you's a joke! Now will you stay away from Purcell?

Harris Claibourne:
Well, you act like it was my fault! I was standing there. He came up to talk to me! I figured I'd let him talk.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
And a couple of seconds later, that skinny gunhawk showed up, is that right?

Harris Claibourne:
Yeah. It all started out of practically nothing.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Unh-uh. That's where you're wrong. That whole fight was planned down to the last detail. About two seconds more and you'd have been nothing but an obituary notice in your own newspaper! That fellow you had the run-in with? That's Stu Regan.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
At least you know it's you they're out to get. Most of Regan's victims don't even have that priviledge.

Harris Claibourne:
I don't feel so honored.

Postmaster:
This is confidential remember. After all, he put a stamp on it; makes it official mail.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
You can trust me, Will.

Postmaster:
Martin Ramsey left it. It was addressed to a man named Whit Purcell - that little fat man you spoke of. Ramsey told me he'd be by to pick it up.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Well thanks, Will.

Postmaster:
Confidential, remember. A postal clerk is sort of like a doctor about these things.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Well, Doc, let's hope you just saved a life.

[Clay picks up Harris' hat]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
I wonder how this would look on me?

Harris Claibourne:
This is a fine time to be talking about haberdashery.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
You know what they say: clothes make the man.

[Clay tries on Harris' hat and coat]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
How does it look?

Harris Claibourne:
Like a newspaper editor who's about to be shot.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Good. Let's hope Regan thinks the same way.

[last lines]

Harris Claibourne:
You are Martin Conners, aren't you? Why did you want to have me killed?

Martin Ramsey:
Well, I was afraid you'd recognize me.

Harris Claibourne:
As far as I'm concerned, you paid for your crime. You went to prison. I had no reason to expose you.

Martin Ramsey:
You mean, you didn't know I escaped?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
We do now. Let's go.

[Hobie and Jake are brawling in saloon]

George West:
Somebody better go for the Sheriff!

Jake Conroy:
Yeah! Let Hollister pick up the pieces.

[Clay retrieves the stolen money from Jake's partnr]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
He's dead.

Jake Conroy:
Too bad. Three men can do a lot with 50,000. How about splittin' it three ways?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
You'd never make it come out even that way, Jake

[last lines]

Jake Conroy:
That Judge Holden threw the book at me.

Harris Claibourne:
You got off easy. You deserved the rope.

Jake Conroy:
Yeah? I'd be in Mexico right now buyin' and sellin' judges like him if hadn't been for that buggy.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Cheer up, Jake. It takes time to make a master wheelwright. You'll have that time up in Yuma - the rest of your life.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
How's it been around here?

Harris Claibourne:
Oh, a real quiet day.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Oh? I heard there was some shooting.

Harris Claibourne:
Oh, somebody tried to rob Enoch Ward's store this morning. Ward put the run on him.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Nobody gets killed, so it's a quiet day?

[Ellen gives Clay an important telegram]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Make sure nobody else finds out about this, will you?

Ellen the Telegrapher:
It was sent to you.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
[to himself] And Harris said it was a quiet day.

[Lt. Lowery tries to open an important dispatch case that Clay has been guarding]

Lieutenant Lowery:
This key doesn't fit. This is a different case.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Try it again.

[the lock still refuses to budge]

Lieutenant Lowery:
Mr. Hollister, do you have something I can open this with?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Oh, sure.

[Clay pulls out his pistol and shoots the lock off]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Very efficient.

[referring to Captain Emerson who is accused of stealing an army payroll]

Harris Claibourne:
Do you really think he did it, Clay?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
I don't know, but if he did, he's going to spend a lot more time in the Army - without pay.

[discussing Captain Emerson]

Ellen the Telegrapher:
He didn't do it.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
And just *how* do you know he didn't do it?

Ellen the Telegrapher:
Ohhh, a woman's intuition.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Well, I wish you'd use a little more of that woman's intuition and tell me who did.

[King pulls out his pistol and lays it on the table]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
I said you could make it easy on yourself.

King Cahoon:
I like it the hard way.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
All right...

[Clay turns King's gun so the muzzle faces his belly]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
That's just the way you'll get it.

[last lines]

Harris Claibourne:
Well, it looks like another unexciting day.

[gunshots are fired outside the jail]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Harris, would you do me a favor? Never say that again!

[first lines]

Harris Claibourne:
[narrating] Tombstone, Arizone Territory - May 12, 1882. Not a thing was happening that would make anyone guess the next 24 hours would be shocking ones.

[Ron tries to pay Harris to print a bogus obituary about his own demise in the newspaper]

Harris Claibourne:
Ron, I'll print your obituary and it won't cost you a cent when at least one fact is true - that you're actually dead.

Ron Browning:
Then I'll make it true.

[Ron pulls his pistol and points it at his head]

[Clay and Harris discover that Ron tried to commit suicide when he learned his fiancee will arrive on the next day's stagecoach]

Harris Claibourne:
It appears to me you better lock him up.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Well, maybe he just doesn't want to see her.

Harris Claibourne:
More likely he doesn't want *her* to see *him*.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Well, I can't jail him for that.

Harris Claibourne:
Look, he's no tramp, Clay. He comes from a good family, educated. When he sobers up, it could be all he needs is that girl.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
All right, Cupid, I'll see the county boards and lodges him.

[Clay's deputy has arrested Ike Cobb, a wanted criminal]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Where'd you find him?

Deputy:
In the front of the bank.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
The bank, huh? Well, we'll let him use one of our vaults until Flagstaff sends for him.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
We'll try to make you comfortable.

Ike Cobb:
I'll be comfortable, when I shoot that star off your chest and off of every lawman!

[Ike has just shot Ron]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Take care of him, Harris. I'm going in!

Gay Mitchum:
Since you refused to print Ronald's obituary...

Ron Browning:
...even though I tried to make it true...

Gay Mitchum:
...we thought you might like to publish this social item.

Harris Claibourne:
"Ronald Secrete Browning will marry Gay Elizabeth Mitchum Friday, May 15 at St. Paul's Episcopal Church." Well, congratulations!

[last lines]

Ron Browning:
Say would you lads like a go at kissing the bride?

[Clay and Harris step forward, wide smiles on their faces]

Ron Browning:
...After me, that is.

Hody Taylor:
I brought my boys into town for a celebration.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Last time you celebrated, two citizens were shot and one of 'em died.

Hody Taylor:
That's too bad. Don't try to stop me - you may be next.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
One thing I'll say for you people of Galeno - you sure know how to hate.

Jess Caulfield:
You're going to find out how much!

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Mrs. Taylor, the town of Galeno is accusing me of murder.

Blanche Taylor:
Do you expect me to object?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
You knew him best - his ways, his doings, the temper he had.

Blanche Taylor:
Are you asking the wife of the man you killed to justify your crime?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Who else can I ask?

Blanche Taylor:
Hody Taylor was not the man you knew him to be - except here in Galeno. But this town wasn't his home... it was his conscience. It was his way, his excuse, to forgive himself for everything he had done before. He used to boast about that - but only to me. He boasted of his conquests and his killings...

[first lines]

Harris Claibourne:
[narrating] Tombstone, Arizona Territory: November 1, 1881.

[last lines]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
You know, it's a funny thing about people - comes to a showdown, they stick together.

Harris Claibourne:
Someone once said it better than we can.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
What's that?

Harris Claibourne:
War makes strange bedfellows.

Harris Claibourne:
[narrating] That's the way it happened in the town too tough to die.

Laredo:
Now, we're not looking for any trouble with you, Sheriff.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Well, that's nice, because we don't want any trouble, either. Since you seem to be talkin' for you boys, I'll give you a word of warning, though.

Laredo:
I'm listening.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Keep your guns holstered until you clear town.

Laredo:
And suppose our business calls for other plans?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Well, maybe you'd better change your plans then, huh.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Why don't you give that kid a chance to grow up.

Laredo:
Like I said, Sheriff, we got business.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Like I said - sundown.

Harris Claibourne:
Clay, why don't you deputize a posse. That Sandy isn't a front shooter like the other three. You need a ring of men all around you.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
They're not gettin' paid to do a job - keepin' the peace is part of it.

Harris Claibourne:
Well, if they're still in town at sundown, would you call what's going to happen "peace"?

[discussing Frank Leslie]

Harris Claibourne:
In his position, do you think he'd go looking for trouble?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
He doesn't have to look for it. It comes lookin' for him!

Frank Leslie:
Doris, you've got to understand. We can't have any peace or life of our own until this is settled - one way or another. I've got to draw a hand.

Doris:
Frank - your parole! It might mean another ten years.

Frank Leslie:
A man's got a right to sit in his own game.

Doris:
I'll talk to Laredo. I'll make him see Steve wasn't worth fighting about.

Frank Leslie:
Look, honey, Yuma hasn't changed me that much. I'm not going to hide behind a woman's skirts... or a sheriff's gun.

Frank Leslie:
Now, what's wrong with backing your play?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
This is a job for the law. We'll take care of it and I don't want civilians mixing in a shootout.

Frank Leslie:
The odds are still 4 to 2, Sheriff.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
They usually are.

Hank:
He's comin', Laredo - and he's not alone.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Harris, go on back. I need someone to print the epitaphs.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Here's your big chance, Laredo - to be famous or dead... All right, Laredo - drop your guns.

Laredo:
All right... you come and get 'em!

[last lines]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
The thing that bothers me, Harris, is that backshooter is the only one left alive.

[first lines]

Harris Claibourne:
[narrating] Tombstone, Arizona Territory: July 29, 1886.

Bill Doolin:
Is Mrs. Doolin here?

Nellie Cashman:
Why you must be Bill Doolin. Hello, I'm so glad to know you. Katie has spoken of you so often.

Bill Doolin:
Is she here?

Nellie Cashman:
Why, no she isn't. I think she left with that friend of yours... the man who brought the message that you wouldn't be on the one o'clock stage.

Bill Doolin:
I was on the stage and I sent no message!

William Clinton:
My boy, Ab, is up on a murder charge. They say he killed a man. Oh, he did it, but he isn't going to hang. They've only got one witness - the sheriff - and if he doesn't get to court, they've got no case. I want you to see that the sheriff doesn't testify.

Bill Doolin:
I'm not doing your dirty work.

William Clinton:
Maybe I didn't make it clear. It'll be your wife or the sheriff - one or the other.

Bill Doolin:
Why me? Why not him?

William Clinton:
This is a job for a man, not a boy.

Joe Clinton:
What do you mean? I can take care of that sheriff!

William Clinton:
Have you seen those graves out on Boot Hill? A lot of 'em are filled with men who thought they were better than the sheriff.

Harris Claibourne:
You're a stubborn mule!

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Mule, huh? Print that and I'll sue you for libel.

Harris Claibourne:
I might just win.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
[indicating William Clinton] Can you identify him as the man who plotted the whole thing?

[Doolin nods, bends to sign the criminal complain and reconsiders]

Bill Doolin:
Nah. I've been to jail. I can't be responsible for putting a man behind bars, no matter what he's tried to do to me.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Maybe it doesn't matter. He's got a conscience.

[last lines]

Harris Claibourne:
[narrating] Old Man Clinton went home without his sons. Tombstone never saw him again.

[first lines]

Harris Claibourne:
April 27, 1880: Tombstone, Arizona Territory

Harris Claibourne:
[narrating] The morning of April 27, 1880 has gotten off to a typical Tombstone start - gunfire had greeted the day - but this time nobody had been killed... thus far.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
I don't like it, Quint. It's too quiet.

Deputy Sheriff Quint:
Maybe they cooled off.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
In a saloon? Buckhorn's bad enough when he's sober. When he's liquored up - look out!

[the lynch mob breaks into the Tombstone jail and confronts Claibourne, the newspaper editor, who's whielding a shotgun]

Jess Buckhorn:
What are you doing here, Editor?

Harris Claibourne:
Just reporting the news... as it occurs. I've got a fitting headline for tomorrow's edition of the Epitaph - "Lynch Law Returns to Tombstone". "Thanks to one it's leading citizens, attorney Fred Griffin, this edition marks the probable death of the town once called 'too tough to die'."

Jess Buckhorn:
They're gone! Where are they?

Harris Claibourne:
I thought you were the one with all the answers, Griffin.

[refering to Little Hawk]

Harris Claibourne:
Clay! Remember he's got two guns.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Yeah? So have I.

Jess Buckhorn:
Aren't you goin' to do somethin', Griffin?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Come on, Buckhorn.

Jess Buckhorn:
No, wait a minute. He hired me to make trouble for the indians.

Fred Griffin:
He's lying. Would you take the word of a drifter?

Jess Buckhorn:
I was no drifter when you needed my gun to get the indian lands so you could sell it to the railroads.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
[to Griffin] You're a smart lawyer. You should know the penalty for persecution and fraud, not to mention inciting a lynch mob. Will you join us, Mr. Griffin?

[last lines]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Harris, you're a great comfort to me.

Harris Claibourne:
You just need someone to talk to.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
No. No, but sometimes my conscience does. How 'bout some dinner?

[first lines]

Harris Claibourne:
April 12, 1882 - a few miles from Tombstone, Arizona Territory. It was a also a few minutes from murder.

[to the stagecoach passengers he is robbing]

Sam Crane:
You inside - get out here! I want everything that folds, ticks or shines!

Jay Pell:
A writer's a man of great curiousity. Might I ask you a question?

Sam Crane:
Ask it.

[glances at the murdered shotgun guard]

Jay Pell:
When you spend this for whiskey, does it taste of blood?

[the outlaw pistol whips the reporter]

Sam Crane:
Any other questions?

Dan - Stagecoach Driver:
You aren't going after him alone are you, Clay? He's a killer!

[Clay taps his holster]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
I'm not alone.

[to the journalist interested in Western crime]

Sam Crane:
You'll like Tombstone - it's a smoky town. Almost every night, there's a killin'.

Kirby Crane:
Sure we can trust him, Sam?

Sam Crane:
Sure! 'Cause he knows dead men don't write books.

Jay Pell:
A real live murderer at large out in those hills somewhere. I wish I could meet him.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Why?

Jay Pell:
The deadliness! The ruthlessness! That's the stuff legends are made of.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
It's men with pens, not guns, that make legends, Mr. Pell.

Jay Pell:
I suppose Buffalo Bill, Calamity Jane aren't real people.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Bill Cody got famous for slaughtering cattle and wearing long hair. Poor old Calamity...

Jay Pell:
But they are famous!

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
For things they didn't do. What they're famous for never happened except in Ned Buntline's head - a little man with a sharp pen and an inkwell full of blood.

[Pell is researching back issues of The Epitaph for information on an outlaw]

Harris Claibourne:
Did you find what you're after?

Jay Pell:
Nooo, I haven't found much I can use at all. Frankly, I'm surprised at your rather colorless reporting.

Harris Claibourne:
I'm running a newspaper, Mr. Pell, not a paintshop.

Jay Pell:
But Sam Crane's killed 14 men! He can't be the kind of cowardly shadow you've described. He's got to be a dangerous killer!

Harris Claibourne:
Oh-ho, I didn't say he wasn't dangerous. Cholera, dynamite and rattlesnakes are dangerous. When you mix 'em together and put boots on it, you got Sam Crane.

Jay Pell:
But it must take courage for Crane to kill!

Harris Claibourne:
Courage? It doesn't take courage to kill. It takes courage to avoid a killing.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Has anyone ever done a story on Clay Hollister's life for the Eastern papers?

Jay Pell:
Never.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
How do his gunfights stack up against Crane's? Just how many has he killed?

Jay Pell:
Mister Pell, that's a piece of arithmetic you don't do around here - not if you're Hollister's friend.

Kirby Crane:
Put up the gun or I'll jail you.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Maybe, maybe not. Maybe you can't climb over bullets.

Sam Crane:
You know the layout of that Tombstone jail?

Jay Pell:
Well, yeah.

Sam Crane:
And you want to see a real shoot-out? You want a dead sheriff for supper?

Jay Pell:
Sam, you get away with this; you kill that sheriff and spring your brother and I'll make them forget Hardin and Tom Horn. I'll make you as big as Jesse James or Billy the Kid!

Sam Crane:
That was just big enough to fit in a pine box.

[Clay and his deputy allow Tim Crane to escape so they can trail him back to his outlaw brother]

Harris Claibourne:
Well, I guess I can start setting type.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
You better wait to see how the story ends.

Sam Crane:
You don't look beat up. Kirby, how much did you tell him?

Kirby Crane:
I didn't tell him nothin'.

Sam Crane:
Pell here says that the sheriff beat your brains out and you started blabbin'.

Kirby Crane:
He hit me once, but I didn't tell him nothin'!

Jay Pell:
Well, remember I'm a writer. I color up the facts some.

Sam Crane:
Enough to send me straight into that sheriff's guns tryin' to shoot my brother out of the Tombstone jail?

Jay Pell:
Now you're a bit melodramatic.

Kirby Crane:
You and me both, Mister, and you're right in the middle, not off to one side takin' notes!

[to Pell as he c*cks his pistol]

Sam Crane:
You came West lookin' for somethin' to write. Well, you just found it - your death warrant!

[last ines]

Jay Pell:
[to Kirby] You and your blowhard brother - coyotes! Coyotes kill sheep. It takes a man to walk into two guns and kill. A man like this.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
So you finally got your story, huh?

Jay Pell:
"Today in the parched hills near Tombstone, I watched a killer die - Sam Crane, the Southwest's deadliest outlaw."

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
"Same Crane - a coward who killed for greed and out of ignorance."

Jay Pell:
Wellll, we've got two writers around.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Then change the part about coyotes. Coyotes are smart like, ah, like this one here. He decided to talk rather than hang.

Jay Pell:
You mean about his brother's killings?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Mm-hmm - especially the last one, where Sam killed the stage guard for a fee paid by a writer gathering information on Western outlaws.

Jay Pell:
That's a lie!

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
You paid... and you'll finish paying with ten years of your life for conspiracy to commit murder - in Yuma prison where you'll meet most of the outlaws in the territory. You can write their stories.

[first lines]

Harris Claibourne:
Tombstone, Arizona Territory - October 16, 1882. Sheriff Clay Hollister took his job seriously and he was in no mood to entertain out-of-town callers.

[Clay walks towards the two gunslingers]

Joe Chandler:
Here he comes.

Gang Member with Moustache:
Watch him, Joe. He's got four arms and a gun in each hand!

Joe Chandler:
It still only takes one slug to kill him.

Ferguson:
Sorry, Sheriff, I guess I spoke to you at the wrong time. I'm Ferguson from Washington.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Yeah, I know. Editor Claibourne told me you wanted to talk to me.

Ferguson:
That's right.

[holding up the derringer Ed pulled on Clay]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
You almost lost your chance.

Ferguson:
So President Arthur sent me out here to investigate your mounting crime and lawlessness. He feels that Tombstone is a blot upon the entire country. Your Boot Hill is proof enough of that.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Mr. Ferguson, wherever there's sudden wealth there's always sudden death - whether it be a diamond strike in Africa or a silver strike in Arizona.

Ferguson:
What's your opinion, Claibourne?

Harris Claibourne:
There is crime and lawlessness in Tombstone, yes. That's in the nature of a boomtown. But, most important, our law has never lost the upper hand.

Elizabeth Blythe:
How about your Apaches? You don't seem to have them under control.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
They're more a matter for the military - General Crook and the cavalry - though we do work hand and hand.

Elizabeth Blythe:
The famous General Crook?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
He's be more famous if he could catch Geronimo.

Elizabeth Blythe:
They're very interested in reading about the Apache Wars back east.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Yeah. We'd rather read about 'em, too.

[refering to wounded outlaw Joe Chandler]

Ferguson:
Don't let anything happen to *that* on the way, or Miss Blythe is a goner.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Yeah. First you have to shoot 'em, then you have to keep 'em alive.

[to reporter Elizabeth Blythe after a gunfight]

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
How are you at writing obituaries?

Harris Claibourne:
How long did it take you to run down Pete and the other one?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Wore out two horses, but that takes care of the Chandler outfit. I won't need keys to keep the ones on Boot Hill out of trouble.

[first lines]

Harris Claibourne:
[narrating] North of Tombstone, Arizona Territory: early morning November 8, 1881. Robert Pickett, accused of a murder in Tombstone - he was to be returned to Tombstone to stand trial in the United States Circuit Court.

Harris Claibourne:
[discussing Dempsey] He's been talkin' revenge ever since Pickett killed his partner.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Well, there's no place in the law for revenge.

Harris Claibourne:
Nor a newspaper. It could spoil an editor's whole purpose.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
In a lawman, it could spoil his aim.

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
Killing's not that easy, Dempsey - not for most people. It leaves a heavy mark like it has on you. A lawman hates it most of all. It's part of his job; he does it... but he never forgets it.

[last lines]

Harris Claibourne:
Wouldn't it be ironic?

Sheriff Clay Hollister:
How's that?

Harris Claibourne:
If they buried Dempsey next to his partner on Boot Hill?