~ SIXGUNS ACROSS THE BORDER ~

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	*Sixguns across the Border*

~The Original Short Story~
	*Sixguns across the Border* ~ The original Short Story by WM 'Crusty' Churchwell as presented for adoption to Screen Play format~ This is the first in a series of low budget old west films being produced by Gold Camp, the Wild Bunch, and exceptional local filming and production talent. All parties involved in the production live near the border in the high desert region of Southern California~

~ RANCHO HERNANDEZ ~

~Hell bent for speed, a lone agile rider races hard against the canyon shadows, a blur across the arroyos and driving headlong through the chapparral, raising a cloud of dust and whipping his steed without mercy~ Ahead in the distance lies the Rancho Hernandez, Chihuahua, the riders destination. Without hesitation, some Rancho vaqueros have already noticed his approach and hurridly mount up to challenge the intrusion~

Pedro rushes to pull on the long rope attached to the bell on top the Rancho Chapel building as Chavez and Morales gallop quickly flashing through the main gate just as it is being swiftly swung closed. The bell rings the alarm and everyone on the rancho seems to be scurying in every directon at once. This is Apache country and no chances are ever taken when strangers approach~

Billowing trails of dust converge like arrows shot across the canyons and meet head on in a narrow arroyo with sparse sage and a small meandering creek. The riders meet head on and narrowly avoid colliding, their horses rearing and bucking about. Immediately, their scurry dust catches them and envelopes them briefly. Hesitating for only a few excited words and gestures, all three gallop at break neck speed to the Rancho. The gate is whirled open and they enter the courtyard halfway leaping from the saddle to dismount and rushing toward the main house. They quickly dust themselves with their sombreros as Carmen greets them at the main entry. She leads them to the Study and standing beside his desk is Don Gerardo. The look on Don Gerardo's face is one of total surprise. Truely, this must be momentous news. News of great consequence~

Upon a brief introduction the rider exclaims his message in between rapid breaths, "Don Gerardo, I am Hector Malena, of the Rancho Gaudalupe, Sonora. It is with the greatest urgency, that El Parche sends a message via Rancho Gaudalupe requesting a detachment of Rurales to meet him at the Canyon de los Embudos at the entrance to the Gaudalupe Mountains. El Parche has learned that a gang of gringo cattle rustlers will be traveling through this area within the next two nights." Don Gerardo wastes no time commanding orders, "Send me Captain Emilio! In the meantime see that this messenger is fed, that he is given a fresh mount, and that he is to return with this message to El Parche quickly." Don Geraldo sets at his desk and hurridly writes a note stating that he is sending a detachment of 30 Rurales to the designated meeting place and that they will arrive before the next sunset. The note is placed in an envelope and sealed with wax, handed to the messenger who is then escorted by Carmen to the kitchen for a hot meal~

"Captain Emilio at your command' Emilio barks out loudly as he comes to attention at the desk of Don Gerardo. "Emilio, please be at ease, I need your advice, my friend, as usual, with a grave matter that has suddenly arisen involving El Parche and a 'set ambush' by him, involving a gang of gringo cattle rustlers who will be passing through the Gaudalupe Pass within the next two nights. What are your thoughts and opinions on this matter?"

"Don Gerardo, as you well know it was only a matter of months since we assisted the Sheriffs from Tombstone in trapping and killing old man Clanton and his gang of rustlers in this same Guadalupe area. To this day that canyon is full of bones from men and cattle. My advice Senyor, would be to move the ambush forward of the Guadalupe Canyon, West, to Vinateria Canyon. This is the next major canyon prior to Gaudalupe Canyon and there is a small village located on a bluff there. Just before this small village there is a shallow creek surrounded by bluffs, scrub trees, and sagebrush. The creek snakes through this area forming an 'M'shape. Once the Gang passes the first curve of the 'M' they would enter a most deadly crossfire from the surronding bluffs and there would be no escape. It is a natural trap. This would be my recommendation Senyor"

Don Gerardo picks up his pen and lays down a fresh piece of writing paper, "Carmen, retrieve the sealed envelope from the messenger in the kitchen as I have a replacement message for him. It never fails to amaze me, Emilio, of your detailed knowledge of the Northern Territories, especially, Sonora, and again, I, and all of Mexico are indebted to you for your service as a Captain of the Rurales. You will proceed to Rancho Gaudalupe with 30 Rurales. You will proceed from there to Vinateria and warn the villagers that should anyone get involved with our activities there, they will be shot immediately. You will then set up and procure your ambush positions. In the event that after the ambush, there are no cattle present, you will procure 6 head of cattle at Rancho San Bernardino and shoot and scatter them at the site. You will embark at sunrise. Via Con Dios." Don Gerardo blots the new messsage and places into the new envelope to be sealed and hands it quickly back to Carmen to give to the messenger. As the messenger mounts up, dusk has caught Rancho Hernandez. He should be back at Rancho Guadalupe by sunrise if he can stay awake and there are no Apaches.

~Rurales~ No importa morir pero con valor~

~ VINATERIA ~

El Parche sets at a rickety wood table eating beans with his knife from a tin plate. The table is the only furniture in this dingy cabin situated on the outskirts of the village of Vinateria.

"Hey Hombre, it is time for you to go to Bisbee and tell that stinkin' Sheriff that El Parche, the lone survivor of his dirty Posse's ambush at Santa Cruz, is alive and well, and holed up every night with his woman in this stinkin' cabin in Vinateria. Tell him it is the last cabin on the right on the road going south up the Vinateria Canyon. You think you can tell him that? If you do not mi Amigo, you will not live too much longer. Maybe long enough to eat an enchilada or two, but you will not be around for them to get to know you very well, comprende!"

"Oh sure, si amigo, but you 'are' here in this cabin in Vinateria, and when they find you here, amigo, iieee chihuahua, they are going to find a dozen ways to kill you, and then they will hang you for sure!" exclaims Mondo

"Hey Hombre, I tell you something, and only a fool would tell you his plan, no, but today, heh, I feel a little lucky. Listen carefully amigo. I, El Parche, 'want' the gringos to come here, comprende? I want to lead them into an ambush to get revenge for murdering all my bandidos at Santa Cruz. Those blood thirsty dogs, they will be the ones that get ambushed this time!"

"Oh sure si amigo, but I have heard tales that it was you that raped and murdered one of the gringo Posse's wives over in Douglas and that is why they will not rest until they kill you, no?"

"Hey hombre, what is it that makes a gringo's wife so stinkin' importante. Have not the gringos come into Mexico and raped and stolen our women? Have they not murdered our villagers, including children and Priests? Have they not ambushed our vaqueros when we drive our cattle across the border? So what is this talk of gringos crossing our border and killing Mexicans whenever they want. No senyor, no! You cannot tell me this is about justice. If so, there is only gringo justice on the border, and I tell you something amigo, Mexican justice begins with this bullet!" El Parche holds out a bullet and spits on it. He then loads it into his pistola.

"You know, Senyor, that was a very fine speech, muy bueno! Mucho gusto! But I think you are going to rust up your pistola, if you continue to spit on your bullets, no!" quiries Mondo.

"And as for you mi amigo, I think perhaps you will be lucky to live long enough to see the town of Bisbee. But, I will give you your fair chance, senyor. You can start running for that door, because senyor, this here rusty pistola, it is thinking, that it can blow you into so many stinkin pieces, that even the Devil will get tired of looking for you!" El Parche begins firing and Mondo, dodging bullets, leaps through the doorway leaving Vinateria and El Parche with a few choice words, yelling as he whips his mount, leaving a cloud of dust down the narrow road through the very small village that sets on a bluff above the canyon. He will deliver El Parche's message to the Sheriff at Bisbee. He knows all Hell is about to break loose. He only hopes at least some of that Hell will find its way to El Parche. Even so, everyone knows the reputation of the bandido with the black patch over his left eye, when it comes to finding a way to stay alive, El Parche is one lucky hombre~

El Parche's woman Carmelita walks into the cabin carrying water. "Parchito! How can you have any friends if you treat them so badly? Mondo wants badly to be your friend, your compadre, and you treat him worse than a dog! You could have easily killed him!" claims Carmelita.

"Mi amigos, they are all lying dead in the ground at Santa Cruz! No, Carmelita, no more amigos. I live to see the Bisbee Posse shot to pieces, the stinkin dogs. Perhaps then the nightmares of that dark night at Santa Cruz will stop visiting me every time I close my eyes to sleep."

"You think by killing more men that you will redeem yourself? No! I have seen you wake up in the middle of the night yelling and covered with sweat! I have seen the look of fear on your face. No Parchito, killing more men will not deliver you from the hell you have created. You must see the village Priest across the way. Then Parchito, only then will your nightmares go away. Okey big boy? You listen to Carmelita, no, and perhaps you will sleep through the night very soon heh!"

"El Parche kneels as he enters the little Mission and he heads for the Confessional and kneels beside the window. El Parche knocks on the screen "Hola Father, you in there somewhere?" " "Yes my son." replies the Father. Forgive me Father for I have sinned, maybe... maybe, just a little." murmurs El Parche. "What is it that troubles you my son"? answers the village Priest. "It has been some time now since I have been to confession Father, perhaps a very long time, but I have been having these terrible nightmares and I was thinking maybe you could make them go away, heh." "Perhaps if you will confess your sins, now, my son, your nightmares will resolve themselves with God's blessing." "Well Father, I confess, I may have killed alot of men, Father, but none that did not deserve it. You know, Father, sometimes you start shooting and shooting...well.... And yes, Father, I confess, maybe I may have borrowed a little money from some rich greedy people who would not share it with the poor, which is of course , mainly me Father. And Father, I confess, perhaps I have loved alot of lonely women, and these poor women had no one at all, at least at that very moment, to love them. Course, Father, I did my best to make them all as happy as possible, as brief as it were, Father. And Father, I have to confess, I may have borrowed a few cattle from those that were much too rich and had too many stinkin cattle to begin with, but never from those that were poor. So you see Father, my life is maybe not so Saintly, but I am not such a bad hombre, no, Heh?"

"As your Priest, I must tell you that we are all God's children and must abide by the Ten Commandments. The First Commandment forbids us from taking anothers life." explains the Priest. El Parche counters, "Perhaps I can explain Father, that when I kill somebody, 'I' am not the one taking their life. You see Father, I merely shoot my pistola, and 'they' are the ones that are, just unlucky enough, as fate would have it, to run in front of the bullet heh!. This I know for sure Father because me, I am the most terrible shot, heh." The Priest in a forlorn tone answers, "My son, it is not my place to judge you, only God can do that. Perhaps you should go into the chapel and light candles and pray to God for forgiveness. Via Con Dios" With that , the Priest draws the curtain closed.

El Parche lights candles and is on his knees trying his best to pray when local villagers begin rushing into the Mission yelling "Father! Father! the Rurales are here and they want everyone, all the villagers, every living soul in front of the Mission!"

~THE ROAD TO BISBEE ~

It is not very often that Pedro gets to go across the border. When the sun arose this morning, Pedro, and his grandfather, and of course Girasol, the donkey, and the old creaky 2 wheel cart, travelled from Aqua Prieta, across the border into Douglas and continued northwest up the road to Bisbee. "Grandfather, why do gringos have such ugly names for their villages? The grandfather ponders the question and answers soon enough, "Who can say? Perhaps they were in a hurry and picked the first name of the person that was to come to that spot. Does it not seem like the gringos are always in a big hurry?" "Why is that Grandfather?" "Perhaps God forgot to give them enough time. Maybe if they had more time they would not be in such a hurry. Some say the gringos are not happy unless they spend all their time making money. Perhaps, it may not be a good idea to give them even more time. So you see, God knows what He is doing No?" "Si, Grandfather, God is very smart, of course. So why do we go to Bisbee to buy our pigs? Should we not buy Mexican pigs?" " Perhaps it is better if we save these pigs from the gringos and take them to Mexico so they can enjoy life. There could be nothing worse Pedro, than to be a gringo pig." "Why is that grandfather?" "Well, as you can well imagine, they give the pig so much to eat that the pig can never get enough to eat. So so you see, the poor gringo pig cannot ever get enough food, and the gringo person can never have enough time." "You are a very wise man Grandfather."

It was good to get such an early start for Bisbee during the late summer and early fall months on the desert. The mornings were just beginning to turn a little crispy, but as the sun rose even ever so slightly, the warmth began to rise quickly to a relentless sea of searing waves of heat. Just as Pedro thought he could see the outskirts of Bisbee, the cart lurched as the wheel struck a large rock. "Did you hear that Grandfather?" yelled out Pedro as he motioned for his granfather to stop the cart. Pedro leaped off and peered under the cart and nestled above the axle was Rojo, his pet chicken. "Yiiieee Chihuahua, Rojo, you are a bad chicken. Rojo, come here right now!" Rojo leaped off the axle perch and hit the ground running. He ran in a tight circle to his left with his left wing extended down and then to the right with his right wing extended down. "Tricks are not going to save you this time, Rojo! Rojo brought over a twig and laid it at Pedro's feet. "No playing fetch the stick either!" Rojo then began hopping from one foot to the other, back and forth, and then dropped to the ground not moving. "Playing dead will not work this time! Come on get up! Get up you crazy bird!" "Perhaps he went into shock from the heat Pedro?" asked the Grandfather, with a wide grin. "He has tricked us into coming and now he is tricking us into thinking he has fainted. When you brought me this fighting rooster that was near death and I saved his life, little did I know what I was in for. This chicken thinks he is a dog now. How could this happen Grandfather?" asks Pedro. Pedro picks up the limp chicken and mounts the wagon and places the chicken that thinks its a dog on his lap. "God, He sometimes works in mysterious ways Pedro. And Rojo, he is truely one of God's little mysteries, no?"

~ RANCHO CHAMA ~

Amarillo picks himself up off the ground and swats off the dust. "There are four ways to break a horse amigo, the Mexican way, the Gringo way, the Indian way, and the hard way which seems to be your way, no? observes Reno. "I have no intention of breaking a horse paisano, I want the horse to think for itself and do whatever 'it' wants." replies Amarillo. "I know your horses well compadre, and never has there been a more dangerous bunch of hard headed, high spirited, uncontrollable, contemptuous hazards to humans on the face of the earth." "Just cause my horses have a little spirit and a little character of their own does not mean they are a menace to mankind, hey Reno. Hey remember Chumash, that mustang that chased that Mexican into the Saloon and pulled him out by his pants! Yiiyii that was one I will never forget! Chumash liked the smell of green peppers and the Mexican had some stuck in his back pocket strapped under his Chapperones." "Si amigo, thats what I am talking about. How many horses would ever do such a thing, heh? Amigo, only one of your so called trained horses would ever conceive of such a thing. Your horse could have got us all killed, no!" "As it were, Reno we were the talk of the town and even the Mex had to laugh. He is still our friend to this day, no! Yiiiyiiyii I miss that horse, Reno, he was truely a friend of mine." "Hey amigo, all your horses are friends of yours and thats what worries me most, no!" replies Reno.

"Looks like you are cleaning the corral today amigo!" states Reno. "No amigo, if I am not mistaken, paisano, that is your horses pile there, next to the gate and you know the rules, whoevers horses pile is closest to the gate cleans the corral, no!" "No no no no senyor, if you look closely, you will see all kinds of weird weeds stuck in that pile that my horse would never consider eating. Only a dumb horse like yours would ever eat such ruffage!" "If you paid more attention to your own horse you would know that your smart ass horse eats those exact weeds everytime you feed him too much oats. Even your horse is smarter than you are amigo, no?" questions Amarillo. "Ok we settle it in a gentlemanly fashion as usual. To the target boards!" "Why do you insist on embarassing yourself with the target boards my friend when you know I will beat you again hey!"states Amarillo. "Si, you were lucky once but you are only part Irish no!" Reno and Amarillo face two target boards shaped like scarecrows. "Okey on three! states Reno. "Uno, dos, tres, draw! yells Amarillo. Both men draw and fire their pistols, then without hesitating, reach behind their head and throw their back knife, and then reach into their boot and throw their boot knife underhanded at the target. "Hey, that was perty fast no! you were almost able to keep up with me this time.""If you were not so blind Amarillo, you would have seen my boot knife hit the target before yours even left your hand." "No no no if you could only see just a little better you would have seen my boot knife had to wait half way there to keep from embarassing your knife paisano!" They approach the target boards and recover their knives. "It appears that both my knives and bullet are in the heart circle Reno, and it appears that one of your knives got stuck between the targets eyes. You lose no! The shovel, it is waiting for you as the luck of the Irish part of me would, of course, have it." "I will not mention what the other parts of you are at this time but I can tell you they are similar to that burrro by the casita, hey, amigo."

Rosa takes the rod and clangs the triangle chime signaling the boys it is meal time. Unlike most Ranchos, meal time at Rancho Chama is only when the boys are not out chasing down mustangs which can mean they are gone for days on end searching for the wild herds. Once they drive the wild horses into the hidden corral in the box canyon they will be able to enjoy the small amenities the ranch has to offer. Like many Indian ranchos, it consists mainly of a small cabin protected by high walled canyons that must also provide an ample water source and a natural boxed end canyon that is suitable for a corral for trapping and training wild horses. Usually there is a small corn field and garden and a few clusters of out buildings or casitas used for various purposes which involve this simple and most basic ranch life.

Rosa peers down the canyon and can see down to the corral where the 'boys' as she calls them, are wrestling around and tossing horse biskets at each other. She wonders if these two will ever grow up at all. Eventually she hears them talking outside on the veranda as they wash up. "Hey, how did you ever get a young beautiful senorita like Rosa to shack up with an old gizzer like you? It must be all your money, No?" questions Reno. "Oh you like Rosa heh! Let me remind you about her sister who is looking very hard for some hombre just like you, no! Everytime she comes here she asks about you, where is Reno, where is that pretty boy? Why is he always gone away when I come?" Reno turns red as a beet. "Is that not true Rosa, explain to Reno how your sister adores him." They all take a seat at the kitchen table. "I think you are embarrassing Reno. But Si it is true, Reno, she does adore you. And why is it you disappear everytime she comes, heh, Reno? Do you not find her attractive?" "Ahhhhrrumph!" Reno clears his throat. "I believe, a man should have something solid to offer a woman, before he thinks about pursuing her." "Oh!, O Ho!, O Ho!, Si! Si, Si amigo, you definately need something solid there, heh, or nothing much is going to work at all, heh!" Yiiiiyiiiyii! Oh amigo! You say the funniest things at the best of times, Yiyiii yii yii!" Reno laughs as he loves to laugh and is not afraid to laugh at himself. The three are not afraid to blurt out belly laughs and share in any fun that comes their way~

~ BISBEE ~

The Bisbee Sheriff's Office is a robust, well oiled, and fashionably well built Spanish Colonial two story structure graced by two huge Mesquite Trees on either side and a water trough and hitching posts in between. The entire town races up and down quebradas or ravines and gorges twisting and turning with all streets meeting and converging into one large bustling Plaza, complete with a huge gushing Mexican style multi-layer fountain cascading and churning water for the enjoyment of one and all.

Bisbee is no wild dusty cowpoke town. It is a highly sophisticated mining town with a multitude of Saloons, Eateries, Hotels and Merchandising Establishments. Hard Goods, Dry Goods, Groceries and Services of all order are available. The latest Paris Fashions arrive weekly via Stagecoach and Freight Wagon. On Saturdays, the Farmers Market sets up in the Plaza and fresh produce and dairy products are brought in from local farms and ranches. The town is a far cry from its counterparts such as Tombstone or Dodge City. That difference is, without a doubt, the Mining interests. The Copper, Silver and Gold Mines here never stop running for a minute. They are grand and rich endeavors and they are the driving force of the town and the entire area.

Sheriff

A sophisticated town demands a class act Sheriff and elections in that regard assure that the right man with the right stuff is chosen by the powers that be. "You know Sheriff, nothing has changed. We cannot allow you to swear in this Vigilante Posse. in fact we do not want you to acknowledge anything about their actions whatsoever and as Mayor you will respect my wishes and the wishes of the Council."

"There is no need to get your dander up Mayor. What the Posse does has nothing whatsoever to do with Bisbee cepting they leave their woman and children here to spend money in our town till they come back, if indeed they do survive to come back from doing the law's job for, lets see here, oh yea, for free. I'm no business man, Mayor, but that there sounds like a perty good deal to me, wouldn't you say there, Mr. Mayor?"

Deputy Sheriff

"OK, OK Boys, theres no need to start a stink here and get all pumped up over something with as many huge censequences as this here action by this Vigalante Posse is going to throw in our face. As Deputy Sheriff just here me out cause you all know we are dammed if we do and dammed if we dont do something. OK, the Sheriff had this idea of authorizing them to bring in El Parche alive for a fair trial. Deputize them up to the U.S. Border and we are legal all the way around. Any other way and we get left holding the bag somewhere down the road. What aya all say? Yes or no? Whats it gonna be?"

~ THE COPPER QUEEN HOTEL ~

"Hey Barkeep, another round down the rail here por favor. If you ask me, this whole deal smells more rotten than a whorehouse on Monday morning." claims Boss Skagway. "Only you would stick around long enough to find out hey Boss!" adds Keno. "Hey, this here is one hombre that always gets his moneys worth" continues Boss pounding on his chest. "Oh sure, and no matter how long it takes, No!" "In your case, Keno, I have heard it only takes one minute, No?" "Thats right, it only takes me one minute to find the last three women you could not handle, No?"

"No listen to me Keno, I am dead serious! This whole thing is way too easy my friend. Why would El Parche be stupid enough to hide out so close to the border where he knows if we find out he is a dead man? No Keno, El Parche is a trickster, a coyote, and I smell a rat."

"OK Boss, Amarillo knows this, no! He is Mex breed, no! He was raised with Apaches and hell, he rode with Mexican bandidos for over six years himself. And then he rode with the Brocius gang for as many years out of Paradise and Dos Cabezos. So if Amarillo goes for El Parche, we all go, no?."

"Excuse me gents, but the gentlemen at the end of the bar are requesting that you tone your lingo down abit, as their are ladies present in the adjoining dining hall." "No problem Sir" exclaims Keno as he nods graciously to the Gentlemen at the end of the bar who appear to be well dressed and well heeled. "Our apologies to the Ladies." Boss looks on more than disgruntled.

Boss Skagway

"The Gentlemen would also request and require that you remove your hats while you are at the Bar." "Of course, my good man, after all this is no cowtown now is it. And perhaps you could offer the gentleman a cigaretto with my complements?" Keno hands the barkeep four cigarettos and smiles toward the gentlemen. "Ahh, a most frindly gesture indeed Sir." The barkeep proceeds to the gentlemen and assists in lighting up the gifts.

"Tell me those are not the exploding variety!" whispers Boss in a raspy tone. "OK." exclaims Keno."Ok what?" "They are my Especial de Loco." "Are you telling me you made those with loco weed? Why you crazy..""Ta ta ta gentlemen, lets not forget our manners" reminds the barkeep. Boss gingerly lets go of Keno's lapel. The Gentlemen at the end of the Bar nod in satisfaction with their Especial de loco.

Keno Fletcher

Keno! Boss! I say! How the bloody hell are you! You all certainly remember my wife, Daffney, and daughter, Victoria. These Gentlemen are Keno Fletcher and of course Boss Skagway as I'm sure you recall." announces Sir Dreadnoit.

As Keno and boss having concluded this may be a good time to take leave of the Gentleman's Bar, approaching the step up entry to the main Hotel Corridor they intercept a familiar entourage. "Well if it ain't English Bob and the whole kit and caboodle, why Mrs Dreadnoit, it is indeed my pleasure and priviledge to gaze once again on such a celestial beauty, and Miss Victoria, certianly as pretty and as fetching as ever." declares Keno as he kisses their outstretched hands. Boss roughly shakes their hands and bows awkwardly, "Funny you should show just when we were having such a jolly fun time with the fellow gentlemen at the Gentlemen's Bar there" exclaims boss talking while gazing at the men at the bar. "Once the Ladies are settled in, by all means, come join us Sir Dread, for a titalating libation or two." ventures Keno.

Sir Dreadnoit, notorious bounty hunter and actual English aristocrat~ (Left)

"Indeed gentlemen, dare say the entire posse will be gathered here by this afternoon and libations are definately in order." "Well if that means you are going to join us for a few snorts, then settle in the ladies and get on with it compadre!" retorts Boss. "Of course, I cannot say, my bully boys, that the Gentleman's Bar will be the Bar of choice, knowing the Posse's inclinations for casual attire, but seeing that it is a good lookout for all passers by, why the hell not hoist a few!" "Hell, we all know the entire posse will end up at Rosita's Cantina by nightfall! exclaims Keno. Good day then Ladies, and of course you will both be so kind as to save us poor underprivilaged souls a dance this evening at the Cantina?" "The honor my dear Sirs is, of course, accepted." and with that, and one more kiss of outstretched hands, the Ladies curtsy and are off to claim their rooms with luggage handlers and Sir Dreadnoit in tow. "Keno, If you kissed their hands one more time I think English Bob would have let you kiss the business end of his 45." "It's not how many times you kiss a womans hand that matters, Boss, it's the one time you kiss them on the lips that counts!" "I cannot believe you just said that!" " Yep! I said that!" "No, you did not!" "Yep!" "No!" "Yep" "You would kiss Limey Bob's wife on the lips?" "I wonder!" "You wonder? You, my friend, did not say that"" Maybe not. And maybe we need another drink with the Gentlemen, no!" "Oh who can say what mischief awaits us thanks to your most generous loco cigar nature." As the two appoach the bar they continue their conversation, "It is my nature, I suppose, to see everyone have a good ol' time and completely tie one on, no." "In this case I think they will be tying one off, yes." observes Boss. Keno clears his throat loudly and hoists his drink high into the air, "Ahh Gentlemen, your attention please, as you may well know, it is molting season, and snakes have been known to crawl right into buildings, and slither across the carpet. But, have no fear, this carpet hides them quite well, indeed!" proclaims Keno. Boss's eyes get wide as saucers, as he begins to lurch backwards towards the entry,"Why you sorry son of a...." blurts out Boss. Without haste, the gentlemmen have drawn their weapons, and are backing into a tight back to back circle, their eyes searching the carpet for hidden snakes. Boss grabs and spins Keno slugging him right on the chin knocking him directly into the group of gentlemen who go sprawling onto the floor which causes a number of unholstered pistols to fire into the ceiling. This in turn causes an all out panic among the gentlemen who are paranoid, thanks to the loco weed, of all the snakes loose on the carpet and gunfire grows to a shootout of epic proportions. In a cloud of smoke filled with womens screams and men yelling and swearing, our two heros crawl up the Saloon stairs and out into the main Hotel hallway to safety and stagger out the lobby door. "I guess I deserved that one all right!" announces Keno rubbing his chin. "The Gentleman's Bar may be off limits for awhile hey Amigo! exclaims Boss. Rosita's Cantina, here we come!" "Hey Keno , whats a Bully Boy?" "Hell Boss, you don't know?" "Come on, Keno! Keno?"

As the two bumbling ranchers meander out of the Copper Queen Hotel and across the Plaza dodging vendors as they pass through the Farmer's Market, they chance upon two mounted fellow Posse members who have justed arrived for the gathering.

"Hey Boss, looky there. If it ain't two of the sorryest hombres west of the Pecos!" "Hey, if I didn't know better I would say it was two Mexes just crossed the border, no!" observes Boss. "Oh si, look at the Mex saddle and bit, and they dress like vaqueros, not like us gringos, heh Boss!"

"Hey Senyors, if you want to dress as if you are from El Paso, that is your choice , no? The thing with a gringo, Senyor, is that a gringo's clothes are very uncivilized, would you not say that very same thing, heh, Reno?" inquires Amarillo. "They are more than uncivilized, I would say! They are, eh, how would one say, eh, uncouth? Yes! Thats it, uncouth!" announces Reno. "Uncouth? what the hell is uncouth?" quiries Boss. Amarillo adds on," Allow me to convey on a level that you may constrew as you wish. Eh, say, like someone stepping off a stage, imagine as, say, from back East, even New York City, who has the latest fashionable store bought wardrobe. Si, si, si, you know, the pant leg, it does not open up for ventilation, and the brim of the hat, it is not wide enough to protect one's face from the hot sun, eh, and the clothes, the clothes are tailored much too tight to breathe, and when they bend over their butt hangs out of the end. So, who but an uncouth person could wear such uncouth clothing!, explains Amarillo gazing down from his horse Cabessos. And who could better answer such a question than an uncouth person no?"

Amarillo's horse quickly tosses his head to one side and then the other and stretches his neck to its fullest extent to intently smell the air. "Fair warning! Do not stand between Cabessos and refried beans are you will get trampled in the stampede. I ain't kiddin niether!, warns Reno. "we didn't name him Cabessos for nothing!"

~We will add pages from "Sixguns across the Border" on a regular basis as the adaptation for Screenplay is eventually developed. The story line presented here is from the short story 'Sixguns across the Border' by WM 'Crusty' Churchwell.(all rights reserved and registered)

"Senyor! Senyor! Please! Can you help me?" A small mexican boy about 10 years old is clinging to Amarillos Boot and pant leg."That dog has grabbed my pet chicken and the dog's ownwer refuses to make the dog let my chicken go!" Amarillo notices a limp chicken in the dogs mouth, The owner of the dog apperars to be a Mexican Vaquero with a group of his friends. What is your name my little friend, heh? asks Amarillo. My name is Pedro, Senyor and my chicken's name is Rojo!"

"Excusame por favor, command your dog to release the chicken pronto, Gracias, Senyor!"

" No I do not think so Senyour, besides, anyone can see, that chicken is dead, no?" answers the dog owner.

"I will shoot your dog at the count of three if it does not drop the chicken. Uno,.."

"Do not draw your pistola, Senyor, or you will be a dead man!" The Mexican and all of his friends draw their pistols and point them at Amarillo.

Amarillo continues, "Dos!"

Amarillo's friends draw their pistols and point them at the Mexicans. "Senyor, you are going to cause all these men to die over a dead chicken? Yiee chihuahua, Negre! Negre! Drop it! Drop it! The dog drops the chicken to the ground and the chicken is limp and lifeless. Pedro rushes up and grabs the chicken and suddenly, in anger, bashes the dog on the head with the chicken twice. He then cradles the chicken and then proceeds to lay it back on the ground. Even the dog looks mournful. Everyone gathers around to pay their respects to a little boy's pet chicken. First a quiver, and then a shake, and then more shakes and the chicken is up and shaking its feathers about. This seems to make everybody extremely happy, even the vaqueros who own the dog, and perhaps, even the dog.

The vaqueros work their way over to Amarillo. "What is your name Senyor? I would at least like to know your name?" inquires the owner of the dog.

"A good place to learn a man's name would be over a drink at Rosita's Cantina and the first round is on me!" declares Amarillo.

"No no no senyor, the first round is on me! I insist!"

"Ok Senyor, I give you a chance." Amarillo reaches into his pocket and pulls out a silver coin. "Call it now!" The coin flips end over end through the air. The mexican whips out his pistol and shoots a hole through it, not once but twice, causing it to land some distance away. Amarillo fast draws and knocks the coin even further down the road.

"O K Senyor, we will buy each other the first round no?" Amarillo nods in agreement and the group continues up the street.

As the group of men work their way up from the Plaza to Rosita's, the little mexican boy approaches Amarillo with his head bowed and with sombrero in hand, "Thank you Senyor, for risking your life for me and my pet chicken, Rojo. I will say a Prayer for you everyday forever!"

"I will not forget you Pedro, nor will I forget that crazy chicken of yours, ever! Via Con Dios."

~ ROSITA'S CANTINA ~