That night, Marty, Ally, and Doc attend the festival at the Courthouse Square. There were red Chinese lights and Californian flags hanging from the saloon. There were Carnival booths, there was a table filled with food and drinks, and a photographer was taking pictures of people in front of the Clock Tower.
Ally was dressed in a white long-sleeve party blouse with a fleece black vest, a black skirt that went down to her ankles, a black gambler hat, and black cowboy boots. Marty was wearing a brown suit with a brown wool overcoat with a brown gambler hat. Doc was wearing a greyish-white suit with a long grey coat that went down to his knees, brown pants with a white cowboy hat.
The festival was celebrating Hill Valley's 20th anniversary of it being founded. They watched as Mayor Hubert, approach the townspeople of Hill Valley. "Ladies and gentleman! As mayor of Hill Valley, it gives me great pleasure to dedicate this clock to the people of Hill County. May it stand for all time!" the Mayor announced.
The clock began to tick and the mayor added, "Let the festivities begin!" The townspeople started to clap and cheer joyously. Too bad the clock will stop working in about 70 years.
The trio stands a few yards from everybody else. "Y'know, it's kind of fitting that we're here to witness this," Doc said with a smile. Ally slumped her shoulders and she said, "Man, I wish I brought that camera,"
As if on cue, the trio hear a flash and this gave Marty an idea. "Looks like it's picture day," he said.
They went over to the man that was taking pictures of the clock tower. "Ready, lady and gentlemen?" the man asked, getting the camera ready to take the picture.
"Thank you for this, Marty," Ally beamed, standing next to her brother. "Too bad we won't be able to show this to anyone," Doc said with a frown. Marty smiled and he said, "Smile, Doc,"
Marty kept his hands in front of him while Ally kept her arms crossed, trying to keep with her tomboyish attitude. The photographer then takes the picture, the flash going off.
Everybody who attended the festival was on the dance floor. There was a band playing a rather catchy song, which got everyone, except Marty, Doc, and Ally, to dance. Marty and Ally weren't even sure if Doc could dance.
"Great music," Doc shouted over the music. "Yeah, it's got a great beat," Marty shouted back. "It's the type you can dance to," Ally added.
From a few yards away, a Colt Gun salesman called out, "Step right up, gentleman, and test your mettle with the latest products from Colonel Samuel Colt's Patent firearms of Hartford, Connecticut. Take this model for example. The new, improve, and refined Colt Peacemaker. Available to you tonight for the low, low price of $12,"
Meanwhile, Doc saw Clara talking to some other people. She wore a beautiful yellow-white dress, her hair curled with flowers in it. Doc smiled in anticipation.
Clara noticed him and she smiled back, advancing toward him. "Good evening," he said with a nod. "Evening," Clara replied. Doc admired the way Clara looked. "You look very... nice," he said with a grin.
"Why thank you," she replied. Doc observes the festival for a moment and stutters in invitation. "Would you like... uh... would you care to, uh..." he stuttered. "I would love to," Clara said without hesitation, reassuring Doc.
Doc and Clara go to the dance floor. Still on the sidelines of the dance, Marty and Ally are still observing the Colt gun demonstration. "Young fellow, would you like to give it a try?" the salesman asked Marty.
Marty shook his head and said, "No thanks," Ally sighed and turned around to face the dance floor and was greeted by Doc and Clara on the dance floor. They started to dance and Ally was speechless.
"Marty, look at this," Ally said, patting Marty on the back. She didn't take her eyes off of Doc and Clara. "What?" he said, turning around and he saw what Ally was talking about.
"The Doc can dance?" Marty said with a grin. "Looks like we learned something new about good ol' Doc," Ally replied, feeling good that Doc was having fun.
The salesman taps Marty on the shoulder, getting their attention, "Sonny boy. I just told you that even a baby can handle this weapon. Surely, you're not afraid of something that a baby can do,"
"Hey, I'm not afraid of anything," Marty responded. "Other than the fact you were running like a scared little girl from that bear," Ally teased, shooting him a look.
Marty looked back at her and whispered, "You were just as scared as me," "No, I wasn't," she pouted. "Yes, you were," he said.
"Well, then, step right up like a man," the gun salesman said, showing Marty what he had to do. He handed Marty a gun in front of a little diorama of the Old West in a box. To Marty and Ally, it looked like an old-fashioned video game.
"Now, what you do is just ease that hammer back there and squeeze off a round," the salesman said. Marty aimed it at the diorama, but the salesman guided his hand upward. "No, right on out there and be real smooth. That's how you do it," he said.
Marty fired the gun, only to shoot at a pole, making Ally duck. "Jeez, try not to kill me, will you?" she shouted.
"Can I try that again?" Marty asked the salesman. The man nodded in response. Marty takes the gun with his other hand and shot four rounds at the targets perfectly. The salesman was surprised to see how good Marty was at this.
He gave the gun back to the salesman and he was asked, "Let me ask you this, son. Where did you learn to do this?" "Seven-eleven," Marty shrugged.
"Marty, if Jennifer was here, surely you'd be trying to impress her," Ally said with a giggle. Marty coyly said, "Maybe," "No reason to impress her, Marty. She loves you the way you are. And I love you as my big brother," Ally said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. Marty gave her a shove back and laughed.
Meanwhile, outside of the festival, Buford and his gang approach the festival on horseback. "Buford, you sure that blacksmith is going be at this shindig?" one of them asked unsurely.
"Sure he's here," Buford said, his voice growing dark, "Everybody's here," However, Marshall Strickland, great grandfather of Vice-Principal Strickland, approached them with his son.
"You gentlemen are gonna have to check your firearms if you want to join on on the festivities," he said. "Who's gonna make us, tender-foot, you?" Buford laughed. "I am," Marshall Strickland said.
Buford turns to look at his left, seeing Marshall Strickland, who was holding his rifle near Tannen's shoulder. "Marshall Strickland. I didn't know you was back in town," Buford said.
"If you can't read the sign, Tannen, I presume you can read this," Marshall Strickland said, patting the barrel of his rifle. "Pretty tough hombrewhen you're pointin' a scattergun at a man's back," Bufford scoffed.
Marshall Strickland didn't falter by Bufford's dangerous attitude. "Just like you, Tannen, I take every advantage I can get. Now, are you gonna check your iron?" Marshall Strickland scoffed.
Buford finally backed down and said, "I was just joking with you, Deputy. Of course, I'm going to check my iron. We all were, weren't we boys?" They all laugh and surrender their guns. When they tried to move forward, the deputy stopped them again.
"Tannen... your knife, too," the man said. Buford growled and pulled the knife that was concealed in his boot and throws it like a dart onto a table. "Smile, Marshall. After all, this is a party," Buford says, looking at the Marshall.
The Marshall didn't move his gun and he said, "The only party I'll be smilin' at is the one that sees you at the end of a rope," Buford and Marshall Strickland glare at each other for a minute before Buford rode off with his friends.
Marshall Strickland looked down at his son, who was still next to him. "That's how you handle them, son, never give them an itch. Maintain discipline at all times. Remember that word, discipline," Marshall Strickland said. "I will, Pa," the boy said prompty.