Showdown

A clearing by a creek with a cluster of small oaks. Ringo leans against a tree, sipping from a hip flask, smoking a slim cheroot. We HEAR the CHIMING spurs approach. Ringo looks up as the tall silhouette of his enemy emerges from the shadows of the thicket.

RINGO
Well, didn't think you had it in you. Shall we?

DOC
I'm your huckleberry.

Ringo stiffens as the silhouette steps into the waning light. It's DOC HOLLIDAY, pale and drawn, looking like death itself, but awake and ready just the same.

DOC
Why Johnny Ringo, you look like somebody just walked over your grave. Oh, I wasn't quite as sick as I made out.

RINGO
My fight's not with you, Holliday.

DOC
I beg to differ. We started a fight we never got to finish. Play for blood, remember?

RINGO
I was kidding about that.

That Cheshire cat smile comes over Doc's face.

DOC
I wasn't.
(pins on Wyatt's badge)
And this time it's legal.

Ringo nods, his hock replaced by a growing malice. As they set themselves, once again their eyes begin to blaze, boring into each other, their concentrated rage focusing on each other, about to reach critical mass...

RINGO
All right, lunger. Let's do it.

DOC
Say when.

A long tense moment, then both grunt in unison. Blurred movement, the FLASH of a GUNSHOT. Doc slaps his gun back in its holster as Ringo stumbles, a bullet hole in the side of his head.