Doc: It'll shoot the fleas off a dogs back at 500 yards, Tannen, and its pointed straight at your head!!
Buford slowly rides over to Doc.
Buford: You owe me money, blacksmith.
Doc: How do ya figure?
Buford: My horse threw his shoe. Seeing' you was the one who done the shoeing, I figures you was responsible.
Doc: Well since you never paid me for the job, I say that makes us even!
Buford: Wrong! See I was on my horse when he threw his shoe and I got throwed off. And that just caused me to bust a perfectly good bottle of fine Kentucky Redeye. So the way I figure, blacksmith, you owe me $5 for the whiskey, and $75 for the horse.
Marty realises this adds up to $80 - the amount of money Doc was killed for!
Marty: (to himself, hoarsely) That's eighty dollars!
Doc: Look, if your horse threw his shoe, bring him back and I'll reshoe him!
Buford: But I shot that horse!
Doc: Well that's your problem, Tannen!
Buford: Wrong. That's yours. So from now on, you better be looking behind you when you walk. 'Cause one day you gonna get a bullet in your back. (to his gang) Let's go!
They leave. Marty and Doc are now alone.
Marty: Doc...
Doc: Marty! I gave you explicit instructions not to come here but to go back directly to 1985.
Marty: I know Doc, but I had to co-
Doc: But its good to see you, Marty.
They hug.
Doc: Marty, you're gonna have to do something about those clothes. You walk around town dressed like that and you're liable to get shot.
Marty makes a gesture around his neck.
Marty: Or hanged.
Doc: What idiot dressed you in that outfit?
Marty claps his hand on Doc's shoulder and smiles.
Marty: You did.
Cut to Doc's blacksmith workshop. It is full of the necessary things he needs for the job and also with a few inventions. Whilst Marty changes into real 19th Century clothes, Doc examines the tombstone with his magnifying glass.
Doc: (reading) "Shot in the back by Buford Tannen over a matter of 80 dollars!" September 7th! That's this Monday! Now I wish I'd paid him off. And whose this beloved Clara? I don't know anyone named Clara.
Marty: I dunno, Doc. I thought maybe she was a girlfriend of yours.
Doc looks at Marty as if Marty just said something very silly.
Doc: Marty. My involvement in such a social relationship, here in 1885, the result is a disruption of the space-time continuum. As a scientist, I can never take that risk, certainly not after we've already been through.