When the Clock Strikes Twelve

::11::

   As the friends danced and laughed at the festival, they were unaware of Tannen and his gang, searching for the blacksmith. After being stalled for only a moment, they made their way towards the large gathering.

   "Swing that partner with a right-hand swing over to the side do the same old thing," the crowd sang as Doc and Clara dosey doed around each other.

   Marty and Rosie walked the perimeter of the crowd, taking it all in. Eventually, they came across Seamus and Maggie McFly.

   "Why, Mr. Eastwood. Ms. Locke. Nice to see you," I see you got yourself some respectable clothes, lad, and a fine hat," Seamus said to Marty.

   "Yeah, well, a couple of people didn't like the way the other one looked on me," Marty said.

   "One of them being me," Rosie said teasingly. He laughed quietly.

   "Sure'n that one suits you. It's very becomin'," Maggie said.

   "Oh, thanks," Marty said, picking up an object and reading the contents. "Hey. Frisbee. Far out."

   "Far out? Wrong decade babe," Rosie said, repeating what he had once said about her catchphrase. He set the frisbee down and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the dance floor.

"What was the meanin' of that?" Seamus asked his wife.

"It is right in front of him," Maggie replied.

Rosie and Marty watched happily as the Doc and Clara danced joyfully in the middle of the circle. The crowd didn't realize that Buford Tannen and his men were close by.

   "There he is, Buford!" One of his goons said, pointing towards Doc.

   "Where?" Mad Dog asked.

   "There," he replied. "Dancing with that piece of calico."

   "What are ya gonna do, boss?" One asked. Tannen took his hat off, pulling a gun out.

   "I figure if I bury this muzzle deep enough in his back, nobody'll hear the shot," he said confidently.

   "Careful Buford. You ain't got but one bullet with that."

   "I only need one," he said.

My Darlin' Clementine played joyfully on the strings of the banjo as the crowd danced. Marty pulled Rosie's hand so she was turned towards him, and wrapped his other arm around her hip. She laughed as they clumsily danced across the floor, stepping on each other's toes and falling into each other's chests. As Doc and Clara did the same, he was unable to finish the step. The man felt something against his back, and stopped dancing, pulling his hands away from Clara.

"I told you to watch your back, Smithy," Tannen said.

"Tannen. But you're early," Doc said, shaking nervously.

"It's a derringer, Smithy. Small but effective. Last time I used it, fella took two whole days to die," Mad Dog replied. "Bled to death inside. It was real, real painful. That means you'll be dead by suppertime Monday." Clara stepped up to Doc, setting her hands on his shoulders.

"Excuse me, I don't know who you think you are, but we're dancing," Clara said, not understanding the gravity of the situation.

   "Well, looky what we have here. Ain't you going to introduce me? I'd like a dance," Tannen said. Doc turned around.

   "I wouldn't give you the pleasure. You'll just have to go ahead and shoot," Doc replied. He then felt a gun pressed up against his neck.

"Alright," Tannen replied. Clara gasped.

"No, no. Emmett, I'll dance with him. Emmett I'll dance with him," Clara said in a worried tone,

"Boys, keep the blacksmith company," Tannen said, pulling him to the side. "While I get acquainted with the filly." He then grabbed Clara in his arms and began to pull her away, the men held Doc back as he tried to move away. After hearing some exceedingly disgusting remarks, Clara had had it.

"I believe you've underestimated me, mister," she said,

"Oh, have I, now?" He replied. She then kicked his leg. In pain, he shoved her to the ground.

"Look over there," Rosie said, grabbing Marty's attention. He watched as Doc began to yell.

"Stop it!" Doc exclaimed. "Damn you Tannen!"

"I Damn you," Mad Dog replied, pointing his gun directly towards the Doc. Marty grabbed the pie plate, tossing it towards the gun. In a split second, it knocked the gun over, shooting a bullet towards Doc's hat, sending it flying. Clara sighed with relief as Mad Dog looked towards Marty and Rosie. "You."

"Hey, lighten up, jerk!" Marty said, walking towards him as if he were approaching a school bully. Rosie followed quickly.

"Mighty strong words, runt," Tannen said as Doc helped Clara stand up. "You man enough to back 'me up with more than just a pie plate?"

"Look, just leave my friends alone," Marty said, lightly pushing Rosie away from the target he had created for himself. She however, wouldn't leave and continued to stand near him. Marty then turned around, trying to walk away.

"Oh, what's wrong, dude? You yellow?" Tannen asked. Marty stopped in his tracks.

'Damnit, not again,' Rosie thought.

"That's what I thought," Mad Dog said. "A yellow belly."

Marty walked up the step in front of him, nearing Tannen. Rosie set her hands on his chest, attempting to get him to move on.

"Nobody calls me yellow," Marty said, taking Rosie's hands from his chest and carefully moving her out of the way.

"Then let's finish it," Mad Dog said. "Right now."

"Uh, not now, Buford. Marshal's got our guns," one of his goons said.

"Like I said. We'll finish this tomorrow," Tannen said.

"Tomorrow we're robbing the Pine City stage," another goon said.

"What about Monday? We doin' anything Monday?" Mad Dog asked them quietly.

"Uh, no. Monday'd be fine. You can kill him on Monday," they informed the man.

"I'll be back this way on Monday," Mad Dog said. "We'll settle this then. Right there out in the street, in front of the Palace Saloon."

"Yeah, right. When?" Marty asked, stepping forward and setting his hands in his pockets. "High noon?"

"Noon? I do my killin' before breakfast," he replied. "Seven o'clock."

"Eight o'clock," Marty countered. "I do my killing after breakfast."

'He couldn't hurt a fly,' Rosie thought.

"Marty," Doc whispered, getting the boy's attention. The older man shook his head.

"Alright, now break it up. What's all this about?" The Marshal said. "You causin' trouble here, Tannen?"

"No trouble, Marshal. Just a little personal matter between me and Eastwood. This doesn't concern the law," Buford answered.

"Tonight everything concerns the law. Now break it up. Any brawlin', it's 15 days in the county jail," he replied. "Alright, folks, come on. This is a party! Come on! Let's have some fun!"

   The music continued to play, and the dancers continued to dance.

   "Eight o'clock Monday, runt. And bring your little girlfriend." Buford Tannen told Marty. "If you ain't here, she'll have to watch me hunt you and shoot you down like a duck."

   "That's 'dog' Buford. Shoot him down like a dog," one of the goons said.

   "Let's go boys!" Tannen exclaimed angrily.