Summary
A sun-bleached Eden somewhere on the high-plateau sprawl: corrals shimmer like molten brass, schoolhouse chalkdust drifts over sage, and two alpha hungers—one laconic cowpoke, one swaggering ranch foreman—circle the same flame-haired schoolmarm who grades spelling lessons between bronc rides. Courtship here is a glint of spurs, a slammed gate, a stolen kiss that tastes of coffee and barbed wire; when the straw-boss forces his mouth on hers the valley itself seems to bruise. Leo Maloney—lank, soft-spoken, quicker with a quip than a Colt—steps into the breach; fists fly like startled magpies, the rancher patriarch storms out in ten-gallon fury and fires the whole bunkhouse, pay envelopes fluttering like wounded doves. The daughter’s plea unravels the old man’s temper, but before amends can be made the foreman and his lariat-lout cronies plant a fat wad of missing payroll in Maloney’s war-bag. A drum-beat posse forms; Leo grins, bolts the bunk door, and utters the immortal dare—‘Come and get me’—turning the ramshackle cow-camp into a besieged Alamo. What follows is a reel-length fugitive ballet: hoof-thunder across alkali flats, six-gun staccato against canyon walls, a final mano-a-mano in cloud-burst moonlight where love, honor and mortality all ricochet like .45 slugs. The closing shot—our hero astride his blown horse, schoolmarm’s ribbon in his hatband—rides straight into the audience, leaving the scent of gunpowder and wet sage hanging in the projector beam.
Synopsis
Leo is in love with the ranch owner's daughter who teaches school, but so is the "straw boss" of the ranch. However this doesn't mean anything to the girl until he forces her to kiss him. Maloney interferes and the men fight. The ranch owner comes out and orders them all to get their pay. The girl tries to explain and finally she convinces her father but when he walks into the room where the men are, the "straw boss" and two of his friends accuse Maloney of stealing money from the owner's desk. The owner tells Leo they are going to arrest him, but he, saying, "Come and get me," locks the door on them. General acceptance of this invitation gives Maloney an opportunity to ride and fight his way through the reel.
Review Excerpt
"
Sun-scorched nitrate doesn’t usually blush, yet Come and Get Me arrives like a blood-orange sunset slashed across the monochrome myth we label “the Western.” Leo D. Maloney—actor, scripter, stunt daredevil—delivers a 58-minute powder keg that feels, at times, like the missing link between the knockabout road comedy he made with Ford Beebe the previous year and the bruised epics The Trap or Orphans of the Storm would flirt with a decade later.
Story as barbed-wire sonnet
The plot—deceptively st..."
