How to Sell a Ranch

smoke brought to you by L&M filters. Make today your big red letter day. Change to L&M. So good to your taste. So quick on the draw. Around Dodge City and in the territory on West, there's just one way to handle the killers and the spoilers and that's with a U.S. marshal and the smell of gun smoke. Gun smoke during William

Conrad, the transcribed story of the violence that moved west with young America. And the story of a man who moved with it. I'm that man, Matt Dillon, United States Marshal. The first man they look for and the last they want to meet.

It's a chancy job, and it makes a man watchful. And a little lonely. I swear this is a lonesome-looking ranch in the whole state of Canada, Mr. Dillon. That's no place for a man who likes company, Justin.

Three days ride from Dodge 150 miles. It'd get me talking to myself. And that's driven old-tubbed flavor a little crazy. Not so crazy. He ain't finally selling out. Ah, let's leave him here, huh? I ain't laid out of the old-tubbing over here.

Ah, he hasn't changed any. And that's what worries me. What do you mean? I'm not sure the old man's competent when it comes to business like selling a ranch. Oh, there it is. Hey, Top, hello!

Hello! Look at his hair. He must use it for a map piece. That's barakery, it's just a... Looks like he ain't washed it, just as he was a boy. How top, how are you, huh?

Fit to fight day or night. Hello, Top. Yeah. And see, you're looking sloppy as ever, Chester. I'm looking sloppy. Top, not on your own high. Never mind. Well, now that's how I remember him. Top, we've been up on the Republican River.