off a dog's back
at 500 yards, Tannen...
...and it's pointed at your head!
You owe me money, blacksmith.
How do you figure?
My horse threw a shoe.
You done the shoeing,
so that makes you responsible.
Since you never paid me for the job,
I'd say that makes us even.
Wrong!
I was on my horse when it happened,
and I got throwed off!
That caused me to bust a perfectly
good bottle of fine Kentucky redeye.
The way I figure it, blacksmith,
you owe me $5 for the whiskey...
...and $75 for the horse!
That's the $80.
If your horse threw a shoe,
bring him back and I'll reshoe him.
I shot that horse!
-That's your problem, Tannen.
-Wrong. That's yours.
From now on,
you better be looking behind you when you walk.
Because one day you're gonna get
a bullet in your back.
Doc!
Marty, I gave you explicit instructions
not to come here...
...but to go directly back to 1985.
I know, but I had to come.
It's good to see you, Marty.
You've got to do something
about those clothes.
-Dressed like that, you're liable to get shot.
-Or hanged.
What idiot dressed you in that outfit?
You did.
"Shot in the back by Buford Tannen
over a matter of $80"?
"September 7"?
That's this Monday!
Now I wish I'd paid him off.
Who's this "beloved Clara"?
I don't know anyone named Clara.
I don't know, Doc.
I thought maybe she was a girlfriend of yours.
My involvement in such a social relationship...
...here in 1885...
...could result in a disruption
of the space-time continuum.
As a scientist...
...I can never take that risk.
Certainly not after
what we've already been through.
Emmett! Hello, Emmett.
Hubert.
It's the mayor.
Excuse me, Emmett.
Do you remember last week
when you volunteered...
...to meet the new schoolteacher
at the station?
Yes, quite so.
We just got word she's coming in tomorrow.
Here are the details for you.
Thanks for all your help.
Anytime, Hubert.
Oh!
Her name's Miss Clara Clayton.
Well, Doc...
...now we know who Clara is.
Marty, it's impossible.
The idea that I could fall in love
at first sight is romantic nonsense.
There's no scientific rationale
for that concept.
It's not science.
You meet the right girl, it hits you like lightning.
Please, don't say that.
That's the way it was for me and Jennifer.
We couldn't keep our eyes off each other.
God, Jennifer, I hope she's all right.
I can't believe we just left her on the porch.
Don't worry. She'll be fine.
When you burned the almanac in 1955,
the normal timeline was restored.
Once we're back in 1985...
...you just have to go to her house
to wake her up.
Turn that valve over there,
all the way to the right.
Yeah, pull it all the way around.
Let's go!
Ice tea?
No, thanks.
It's a refrigerator.
I guess Miss Clayton
will have to find other transportation.
If I never meet her, there's no possibility
of a romantic infatuation.
-You're the doc.
-All right.
We'll get the DeLorean and get back to the future.
I tore a hole in the gas tank
when I was landing...
...so we'll have to patch it up
and get some gas.
You mean, we're out of gas?
Yeah. It's no big deal.
We've got Mr. Fusion, right?
Mr. Fusion powers the time circuits
and the flux capacitor.
But the internal combustion engine
runs on ordinary gasoline.
It always has.
There won't be a gas station around here
until sometime in the next century.
Without gasoline,
we can't get the DeLorean up to 88 mph.
So what do we do?
-Twenty-four!
-It's no use, Marty!
Even the fastest horse in the world
won't run more than 35, 40 miles an hour!
Bartender said that's the strongest stuff they got.
Try it, Marty.
Give it more gas!
Damn!
It blew the fuel injection manifold.
Strong stuff, all right.
It will take me a month to rebuild it.
A month?
-You're gonna get shot on Monday!
-I know!
I wish...
Wait.
I've got it! We can roll it down a steep hill!
We'll never find a smooth enough surface.
Unless...
Of course! Ice!
We'll wait until winter