Biff couldn't have been more surprised than he was right now. He realized the McFly in question must have been George's great-grandpa. He looked more like Marty, especially for the few generations in between them. The tough guy was called Tannen, so this had to be the outlaw ancestor he heard so much about. The fact that he was looking him right in the flesh was amazing. Before he could catch his breath and take anything else in, Buford spotted him.

"What 'da h*ll you doin' in here, old timer?"

Knowing it was too late to leave now, he played along with it. Despite the fear he felt, he mustered up all his courage and pretended to be of the time. "Just watching you take care of McFly. Everyone in his family is a chicken. Good job on drivin' out that loser."

"How d'you know about any other McFlys? Seamus, that coward farmer is the only one I done know of! Did you know his grand daddy or somethin'?"

Something was the key word. Before he could respond, one of the guys grabbed Biff's cane off the wooden table where it was laying.

"Hey boss, take a peek at this fancy stick the old codger got himself! What kin'a gold thing is this on top? I wonder if this be worth something! What d'you got to say for this, grandpa?"

Thinking fast, Biff knew how unlucky he was to have that here. "It's fake gold, not worth anything. I did it like that on purpose so I could hit people hard enough. I can't move so good now. I was pretty wild, you know. I used to kick the sh*t out of people when I was young! I even got a gun on me now."

The foursome was beginning to think the old man was all right. His infamous ancestor still wanted proof.

"Oh yeah. I ain't never heard of a dude your age who was barely livin', let alone doin' able to do any of that! Well, if you be who you say you was, let's all see it! Why don't chu take care of someone, one mo' time befo' you keel over, huh? Won't that be fun, boys?" The gang all agreed to that.

Biff was beginning to think he might have gotten himself into something way too deep. Sure, he was mean and especially in his youth, liked to pick on people. However, he didn't want to commit an armed robbery on someone here who wasn't robbed in the original timeline. He could be arrested easily (and therefore really stuck here for life). He considered shooting the foursome, but thought better of it. They were much faster, in better shape and more armed than him. Even more so, if he killed his own ancestor, his grandpa's little brother, who was born in 1886, would never exist. In the end, he decided to go along with it.

"Yeah. I'll knock off anyone or anyplace, you just name it."

"Here's what I'd be dyin' to see, old timer!" Buford Tannen continued talking to his descendant. "I been having problems with da local blacksmith! He's a real smart mouth, always tryin' to say some'um' ain't his fault! One time, I been hauling stuff I robbed in a wagon, and the wheels wasn't lined up. I also gots my horse re-shoed twice now, and every time he says he done it good, but the horse keeps throwing it off!"

"You want me to shoot the b*st*rd as a grand finale, right?"

This wasn't quite what Buford had in mind. "Well, if you want to, I sure ain't gonna mind! I killed a few men who got in my way befo! The first time I shot a man was when I been 14 and runnin' away from home and some lawman, he tried to stop me! Coupl'a years later, I done my first killin' after a bank robbery. But, I just wanna watch you holdin' the no-good liar up and robbin' the place!"

"Robbing the blacksmith, huh? If I know there's no sheriff out here to put me away, I guess that won't hurt, now." His descendant was a little unoptimistic, but now suddenly felt a connection with his former relative and his outlaw buddies. He now thought they might protect him from the police, instead of the other way around.

Buck, one of the guys said, "H'yup! We'd love to see how much o'this stuff is true about you! That'd be dang ol' hilarious to see." He asked Buford, "Boss, what do ya say if this goes off without a hitch, we let the old guy keep a fifth of the cash?"

"A fifth? You mean 5 times as much? Well, not until we commit 4 mo robberies!"

He corrected his leader friend. "Uh, Buford, a fifth is just somethin' that's 5 times less than the original. Like 1 outta 5 fingers, that's how much he'll be getting'."

The criminal's voice rose, as he got impatient, yet excited, "Yeah boys! A fifth will be just fine, I just wanna take care of that runt!"

The fivesome headed slowly out the door, in order for Biff to keep up. Turning right out of the saloon, where business slowly went back to normal, they headed up just a few hundred yards in the overcast sunlight. It was the beginning of winter, so it was actually pretty comfortable.

"I'll be d*mned, that's what used to be here! This is the Texaco station."

"What kinda station," cried Buford.

"Nothing, I was just thinking to myself. Now do you want me to go in first?" He was still not quite sure if this was the best idea, but decided to make it as easy as possible. "I'm going to make it quiet so the law doesn't get us."

Stubble said, "Yeah, fine, whatever you gotta do. Don't be worried about getting' arrested! We'll shoot 'em off if they come around!

Entering the blacksmith shop, Biff tried to keep a low profile as Buford followed a distance behind him and the gang guarded the door, just in case. The main area was lightly furnished as a living area. There was a small bed, some clothes and a few material possessions. Biff tried to tell himself not to be so paranoid. It's not like back home in 2015, or even in the 1940s when he was a kid, for that matter. People couldn't exactly call 911 or get a SWAT team out here. He assumed many more crimes went unpunished and unknown in this era. That still didn't stop him from being conscious though.

As they entered the work area, a nice looking man in his 30s was busy shoeing a horse and working with some tools. He noticed Biff. "Well, top of the mornin' to ya, mister! What can I do you for today?" He used the old time slang of rearranging two words.

Feeling very apprehensive about robbing a guy like this, Biff ultimately decided it was best to get it over with, especially considering he had four armed guys now on his side for who he claimed to be, which was somewhat true, just not yet. Sweating and nervous, the old codger took out the free Colt Peacemaker he had just got, pointing it at the man, but without a finger on the trigger.

"Hey buddy! This is a stickup! I just need all the money you got, move it!"

The look on the blacksmith's face was one of utter shock. He had heard about lifelong criminals, but the idea that a guy this old, who couldn't even walk very good while standing up straight, was robbing him at gunpoint wasn't setting in. When he froze and kept thinking to himself, Biff wanted to get support from Buford & the gang and pretended he was for real.

"I'm not kiddin' butthead! I might be old, but I'm a career criminal and I can still shoot you! You see this guy behind me? You try to jump me, he'll be on your a** in a second!"

Behind him, his ancestor said, "Hee-yeah!" as he whirled his gun in his hand at lightning speed. "The fastest gun in the west, that's what 'dey call me! Listen to the old fella, and give it up!"

Realizing it was for real, the guy panicked in his mind. "Okay, I'll get everything we've got, just please don't shoot, partner!"

He rummaged through all the cash given by townsfolk for al the work he did. He was the only blacksmith and handyman in town after all. There were a few more in the slightly bigger town of Grass Valley, which was 9 miles away. In the days of walking or horses, the trip would take about three hours on foot and at least 45 minutes on the average horse. He amassed quite a bit, but still feared it wouldn't be enough for the robbers.

"All, all I've got here is 300 dollars, y'all. Here it is!" He handed it over to Biff and was looking extremely worried. 'You all do realize this is gonna put me out of business, right? I'm the only blacksmith in town."

Buford had to say a piece on this. "What in d'h*ll do you think I care 'bout that fo? Won't you cry to somebody who do! You can't even shoe my horse right! You prob'ly ain't shoein' nobody else's either! Have a good day, smithy!" After this, Biff turned around and they headed out of the shop. The gang could overhear everything and were laughing and high-fiving each other.

"Hey, that was pretty good for ya! Y'must've been a h*llraiser in your day," Ceegar said as Biff gave Buford the stolen loot. As the three gang members counted it, they took $220 to split amongst themselves, while giving Biff $80. "Here's 80 bucks for you!"

"Yeah, it felt so nice to pull one of those again, you know! Thanks for lettin' me keep this. You can't lose if you've got a gun!"

The gang was happy now. Before they rode off, Buford asked one more thing. "I ain't ever heard of you 'fore today. What's your name, old dude?" He decided to use a different alias than he'd given the Colt salesman, just in case the blacksmith overheard. "The name is John Wayne. I don't really live around here. I'm from Placerville and was just visiting."

"Well, Wayne, I loved watchin' you robbin' the blacksmith today! Maybe we'll be seein' you again!"

Biff said his goodbyes as the foursome remounted their horses and rode off into the distance. Just a minute or two after the showdown, as he sat down on the dusty ground, he saw a familiar sight, which stopped him in his tracks.

"Howdy there Mr. Thomas! Surprised t'be seein' you again so soon. How ya likin' that gun? Ya fired off any rounds yet?" He said with happiness and energy.

Not wanting to say what he had actually just done, but not wanting to disappoint him, Biff told a half-truth. "You bet I'm lovin' it, and here's some money for it!" He reached out for the freshly stolen money. Just like in the future, it was all 20s, 10s and 5s, but no single bills. "All I've got is a 10 and a 5, and it was 12."

The surprisingly nice guy rounded down. "Tell ya what! 10 will do fine. Consider the other 2 dollars your own. I'm not takin' it back either. Hey listen, I'm going to get a drank in the bar here, but maybe I'll see you again sometime. If not, than happy trails!"

"Thanks about that," Biff said as he considered a way to get back to the DeLorean. He didn't want to walk it again. He headed back into the shop. "Hey blacksmith, I can't walk it back, gimmie a horse!"

Within minutes, and with some difficulty mounting the horse while keeping hold of his cane, he headed back towards the hidden time machine. He still couldn't believe his mind about the luck he had today. He would've felt bad about cheating out Billy Bob for the money. He was just glad that he didn't have to go try and find him now. Plus, he still had 70 bucks left, as well as a very memorable and positive encounter with his great-grandpa.

All the stories he heard were true, though they'd been passed down going through a few people before reaching him. He couldn't believe it how similar Buford and his gang were to him and his own gang in 1955. With the joking, troublemaking and everything else, it was pretty similar compared to the respective time periods. When he made it back to 2015, he would certainly have plenty of stories now. The only frustrating thing is he would have to keep them to himself.

It was 1:30 in the afternoon when he reached the abandoned silver mine. As much fun as he had on this trip, he knew had had to get moving. Inching into the seat, he backed out very slowly before immediately going high up into the sky. He assumed no one would be here, but still thought it would be a good idea to keep out of the eyes of any possible witnesses. Hovering above the outer edges of his future hometown, Biff looked down at it one last time. Damn! Why didn't I bring that instant camera? He thought aloud. It wasn't likely he'd have the shot to do this ever again, but just doing it was enough for now, he supposed.

It was time to get his mind on something else now. Speeding up and setting the time circuits, he had to get on track and do what he came to do.