Transcription: It's in the air. It's an ill wind that bodes no good. Mad Dog McCree and his band of cutthroats are riding into town. Folks here are plumb scared to death. The town's deserted. Even a tumbleweed doesn't dare across the streets today. These hombres are mean, vicious, quick to be done. I'm sure we got a sheriff. What we need's a gunslinger. You handle yourself, pilgrim? You spray a little lead in harm's way? That'd be tricky. We'd be forever beholden to you. We're simple folk. But the mayor's daughter, you lay your eyes on her you see what I mean. She'd be worth taking a chance for.
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