Took himself that money and gathered up them shooters and snipers and that damn newspaper man to spin the story in his favor.

Shot Tommy.

He was just a fuckin' kid.

Doc nods and keeps his eyes on Wade's. He doesn't flinch. Most men probably would.

"Yes, sir."

After Ben returns to the bar, Doc spends the last hour of twilight putting bullets into tin soda cans, and later, he'll ask bar for a few apples before he heads up to his room.

You give 'em hell and then some.

Yes, sir.