The Drover's Wife (2021) Movie Script

Olly olly oxen free!
One, two, three, home!
I won!
I saw you, Henry James.
- No, you didn't!
- Yes, I did!
- No, I...
- Yes, I did!
Danny. Gun.
You can't catch me!
Shoot him.
Get away from the wood.
- Go wash up for lunch.
Wait for me, boys!
That roast beef
smells good, Ma.
That bullock sure picked
the wrong yard to walk into.
I'm Sergeant Nate Clintoff.
This is my wife, Louisa.
We're headed to Everton.
You're a little off the track.
Couldn't help
but smell your roast.
my husband's manner's, Mrs...
Johnson. Mrs Joe Johnson.
We've been travelling
for some time, Mrs Johnson.
Up from Melbourne.
Out from London, actually.
It's been a long nine
and a half weeks.
Crossing the river further south
we had some trouble.
Lost all our provisions.
And, well, the smell
of your cooking.
The aroma.
We feel terrible in asking.
We can see you don't have much.
We make do.
Nate Clintoff,
you are not helping.
If we might...
join you for your meal.
We'd share a plate between us.
We won't intrude at your table.
We'd be forever indebted to you.
Horse dead in the yard.
Not long butchered a bullock.
It's a war injury.
It plays up every now and again.
Did your Da do that to you,
Mind your business.
Er, no, no.
In Her Majesty's service.
- Master...
- Danny.
Transvaal Rebellion.
Fighting the Boers
in South Africa.
Louisa, please.
Twelve years behind a desk
was enough
for Sergeant Clintoff.
I thought we could do with
a change,
a challenge and some fresh air.
So, here we are.
To police a town in the bush.
I'm goin' out...
I've always lived in a big city
called London.
Me too!
Oh my gosh, how blessed!
Yes, London. It's the capital
city of England.
And you're gonna be the
boss of the Everton outpost?
Well, Everton's becoming a town
and I'm here to uphold
Her Majesty's law
and administer
the new legislations.
Just in time for the Sale.
They wanted us here
a little earlier
to settle in before the big day
but we got caught
crossing the river.
Deeper than I thought.
Sheep be down from
the high country soon.
That's where my husband is.
He's a drover.
He's been away three months.
Nate and I have hardly left
each other's sides
since we were married.
Can't imagine
what it must be like.
Must be wonderful
when he finally does come home
to the family.
I love watching my Joe cantering
across the flats, coming home.
Sun setting behind him,
children running to greet him.
Waving his hat with joy
on seeing them.
- To Everton, you say?
- Yes.
Sergeant, Mrs Clintoff,
I have a favour to ask.
It's too heavy for you.
- I'm alright.
- Good boy.
It's very nice
of the McGuinnesses
to take the children for you.
Since Joe Junior's birth.
Novelty for the children.
Miss Shirley enjoys it,
having no children of her own.
Gives me time to prepare. Rest.
I hope to start my own business.
I'm a writer.
Thinking a monthly
journal for women.
And I'm just so looking forward
to the challenges
of life on the land.
I wish you all the very best
with that then, Mrs Clintoff.
Louisa, please.
Thank you again, Mrs Johnson.
It was so lovely to meet you
and your...
beautiful children.
I'm gonna win!
No, you won't!
There they are.
Up you hop.
Help me in please, Mister.
Good luck with your
birth. Looks like any day now.
I want to sit there.
The baby's delivery should be
straightforward enough.
If you're ever in town,
perhaps we could get together.
Not much of a town there yet,
Mrs Clintoff.
Still a fair distance.
My Joe brings the supplies home.
Oh, I see.
Excuse me.
Thank you, Sergeant Clintoff.
You should get going
if you wish to make Everton
by nightfall.
We do.
Well, let's make haste
to the McGuinnesses.
They hold the keys
to our humble new abode.
I can show you the way.
Oh, why, thank you,
Master Danny.
We are very grateful to have
you as our travel companion.
Joe Junior, you shouldn't
have done that!
I want my doll.
Oh, please, let me.
Thank you again, Mrs Johnson.
We're truly indebted to you.
Now, who does this belong to?
I want my dolly.
- Oh. There you are.
Play nicely. We have
a long ride ahead of us.
Get a good trade with the meat.
Donkey or horse, either will do.
- Yes, Ma.
- Flour. Rice. Sugar, tea.
- And bullets. We're low.
- Yes, Ma.
And get some of
Miss Shirley's cakes
and sweets into your skinny
malinky long legs.
And then straight home, son.
I'll need your help.
Yes, Ma.
Always with you.
You right?
Thank you.
No fightin'.
You hear me?
Joe Junior, Henry James.
- Yes, Ma.
- Yes, Ma.
Look after ya sister.
- Yes, Ma.
- Yes, Ma.
I love yous.
I love you.
Be good for the McGuinnesses.
Good luck with the baby, Ma.
You hear me? I love yous.
Love you! Bye, Ma!
- Love you.
- Love you.
Thank you, Mrs Clintoff.
- Take care, Mrs Johnson.
Will do.
- Good luck, Ma.
- Love you!
- Bye!
Bye Ma!
- See you tomorrow!
- Love you!
I'll eat some cake for you.
Yeah, go on.
Go on.
Go on.
She's lucky we found her.
Hasn't lost too much condition.
- Yeah?
- Yeah.
Head up. Go on!
Come on.
Get up. Steady on, girl.
Get around.
Go on.
Please, my children!
Oh, good God. A foot.
Mr Edwards, we will do all
we can to bring those to justice
for the brutal murders
of your wife and children.
We hope you don't leave us.
Certainly, Father,
but I have other priorities now.
Is this correct, Mr Edwards?
No, the Black's nose
was more refined.
Get this body onto the wagon.
And his brow was a heavier brow.
Trooper Leslie.
Mrs Joe Johnson, further south.
I'm worried about her.
She's alone, vulnerable
and in a delicate condition.
Nothing delicate
about our mountain women.
I beg your pardon,
Father McGuinness?
Molly Johnson grew up out here.
She knows the ways.
Crack shot, too.
Trust me, your attention needs
to be on finding the murderer.
I wish not for any other woman
or child be harmed, Father.
It's my duty to see to that.
Quickest way to the Johnson's
from here.
Over that hill there,
and down the range
on the other side
which I would not recommend.
A local mountain man
wouldn't attempt it, Sir.
I'd take the main thoroughfare.
Come on!
You up for a good night?
Oh, good.
Ah, not so bad. And you?
Fortunes told!
Happy endings guaranteed!
Pick a fighter.
Give us your name.
Fair fights.
The winner takes all.
Roll up! Roll up!
Roll up, roll up!
Roll up, roll up! Have a bet!
"Bodies, one Trooper Phillips,
"one native policeman
Dempsey Buckskin, found dead.
"Three weeks back. Stop.
"North of Victorian border.
Stop. Moving native prisoner."
"Black tracker notes
the prisoner killed them."
That's six people dead,
including the Edwards family.
What would make him
come back up into the mountains?
Probably a Ngarigo man, Sir.
Or Walgalu.
- Tribes local to the area.
- Thank you, I've been briefed.
I'd advise a raiding party, Sir.
Mr Jonathan Edwards might not be
a man of the land
like his forebears.
His business is mainly
in Melbourne these days...
I did question the man, Trooper.
But it's our local wool he's
using to build his empire, Sir,
which the locals are
very grateful for.
Get to your point.
If we don't organise
a raiding party, they will.
And they won't spare the gins
or children.
We will spare the women
and children. That's an order.
Sir. If I may suggest, bring
troopers from Jarren's Outpost.
It's the most southern to
the Victorian border.
Sweeping the area
as they come.
And can take in the Johnson's
property as well.
But I'm hoping that
the man of the house
gets his supplies
and heads home.
Then our responsibility
to Molly Johnson is over.
Or you could take a little ride
out there yourself.
Not my strong suit, Sir. Riding.
I've been briefed.
Man Oi!
Watch your mouth, ya mongrel!
There'll be mayhem
before the sun's down.
You'll need me here.
What's the outpost to the north?
Milbaral, Sir.
Send a telegram
to both outposts,
seeing if they can
spare some men
and when they think they might
be able to move out.
Immediately would be preferred.
These up?
- Yes, Sir.
We're even, now get goin'.
Food, Missus.
Been running for days,
carrying this wound. This.
I heard you coming.
Laid down there,
hoping you wouldn't shoot.
You schooled?
Muloga Mission. Father
Matthew's wife and daughter.
Educated Black.
A danger in itself.
Bury your baby girl, Missus.
Least I can do.
I can fell a tree for you.
Stack the wood heap.
Level the ground there.
I reckon you don't want
the snakes getting in under.
And the collar?
My crime, Missus?
Existing whilst Black.
Of the Guugu Yimithirr
adopted Ngarigo.
One night. Fell a tree,
and you need to be gone.
Full moon then.
Good to walk by, Missus.
My Joe be home soon.
He's a drover, bringing sheep
down from the high country.
Your children?
What do you know of my children?
I noticed the little stretcher
beds by the wall, Missus.
- They're none of your business.
- Yes, boss.
He's the boss.
I'm just a drover's wife.
But cross me and I'll kill ya.
I'll shoot you where you stand,
and I'll bury you
where you fall.
Yes, Missus.
Thank you, Missus.
Bury that deep.
So you are always with her.
A gin showed me.
She helped me bury my firstborn,
She helped me bury my Da, too.
Cried a river, she did.
Howled like the wailing
winds in a storm.
It's not like she knew him.
I'll get my hat.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Danny, it's alright.
- Ma!
- Danny!
Sergeant Clintoff!
Ah, Henry James. Joe Junior.
Don't you both look, er, smart.
Henry James, Joe Junior,
I told you not to run!
Afternoon, Miss Shirley.
Enjoying the festivities?
Father McGuinness?
My brother is still with
Mr Edwards and the undertaker,
bless them.
Ah, she's not
feeling her best.
At home. Bed rest
with her notepad and pen.
And miss all this?
I wasn't expecting all this,
to be honest,
but she's really not well.
There is an influenza about,
a nasty one.
She needs to be careful.
Give her my best.
You know, Sergeant,
if we're to have a decent,
godly, law-abiding town,
this sort of nonsense needs to
be brought under control.
Oi! You can't handle
two of our women.
I'll do my best!
Come, children.
There. Have a good day.
Thank you.
Sergeant Nate Clintoff.
I wonder if I might ask you
a few questions.
- Have you seen this man?
Wonder if you've seen this man.
Shoot the bastard if I do.
- Do you know Joe Johnson?
- Name doesn't ring a bell.
- The drover?
- No.
Seen this man?
No. Can't say I have.
Sorry about that.
Thank you.
Sergeant Nate Clintoff?
Alfred Eisenmangher.
District Court Judge.
A pleasure, Your Honour.
A little more
than you bargained for.
They did say a big day
for the Sale.
Walking straight into
a murder investigation.
Children, for goodness' sake.
We make an example of anyone who
commits murder from here on in.
Understood, Sir.
Walk with me.
We must be diligent.
The Edwards are a prominent
family here in the high country.
They've been here since
the 1820s.
Our founding fathers.
It's their money progressing
Everton to further development.
If Edwards leaves
his money goes with him,
and the town folds.
And my retirement plan
falls over.
As we speak, Sir,
waiting on word from outposts
to the north and south
for trooper support.
Welcome to Everton.
If you make it past Sunday,
I'll officially swear you in.
Good day.
Afternoon, gentlemen.
Sergeant Nate Clintoff.
Martha Murray.
Marti preferred.
Um, I'm looking for Joe Johnson.
Joe Johnson.
Parsen, eh?
- He's in Robert Parsen's team.
- Parsen's.
Joe Johnson's yaraman.
There's his horse.
She's keen to get home,
by the look of her.
I was hoping
Mr Johnson was too.
Well, a man's
gotta have a fight,
a feed and a fuck before facing
the family, Sergeant.
My pardon.
Was it his family murdered?
Word's out, then?
Oh, word travels fast
around here,
considering the distance
it takes to get anywhere.
Don't know 'im, boss.
- It wasn't his family,
but it was in the proximity
of his property
so just bringing it
to his attention
the urgency to get home
to his wife and children.
Get out of it, McPharlen.
Leave her alone.
Well, it looks like you're
in luck. There's Parsen's team.
Got a meeting
with a blackfella.
- Up at the boxing tent.
- You gonna have a go, Parsen?
- Thank you, I could use some.
- You'll be right, mate.
Show 'em what you're made of.
Very fine cooks.
Best feed around here.
Maurice, what do we think?
It's gone.
- Sorry?
My wallet has gone. Sergeant!
- Sergeant, I've been robbed!
- Excuse me!
That bloody drunken rogue
- He went that way!
- Go, man, go!
Ugh! Egh!
Go on, get up! Get up!
Let's get him.
Go on! That's it.
Come on!
Knock him out.
Knock him out!
Hit him! Hit him hard!
Smash him in the head.
Smash him in the head!
Get the bastard.
Good stuff, Sergeant.
Yeah. Yeah.
Not bad.
Back to business.
Oh black, black
Black is the colour
Of my true love's hair
Her face is something
wondrous fair
The purest smile
And the gentlest of hands
I love the ground
Whereon she stands
So fair thee well
My own true love
The time has come
Still I wish you well
Are you a bad man, then?
I don't think I am.
Where's your boots?
You lose 'em?
Where's yours?
Got none. What do you do
when the snow falls?
You ask a lot of questions.
Ma says that too.
But if you don't ask,
you don't know, eh?
You answer all the questions
you ask?
Yes, Sir. I like talking.
We make up stories, too.
I tamed a bear in rough seas.
Taught six horses how to dance.
Fed a tiger with my bare hands.
And once I was a clown
called Tippo in the circus.
I'm twelve now,
but that's a good story.
Twelve, huh?
Three months back.
You're ready for Men's Business.
Is that the same
Men's Business my Da
does with the whore
woman to the west?
That's what Ma calls her.
I think that's her last name.
No, this Men's Business
is different from
your Da's Men's Business.
But one day you'll be interested
in his Men's Business too.
So, what's your Men's Business?
Your responsibilities to your
Ma, your brothers, your sister.
The chores you do.
Special lessons learnt about
the animals, the land,
the stars.
The final ask would be
your first kill.
Kill swiftly. No suffering.
Extend your arm behind you,
level with your shoulder.
One action, straight through.
Shoulder and hip.
So our feet don't get cold,
when we see the first mist
rise in the valley,
we head down the mountain
and north for the winter.
We've had the first mist.
What are you still doing here?
It's not for want of trying,
Danny, let me tell you.
I'm supposed to be getting
Da's boots this winter.
I'll have to chock the heel,
From when Da was a little fella.
His Da broke it.
Didn't fix it right.
But I'm too quick for my Da.
He whipped his belt at me,
buckle end.
He didn't mean it. He was drunk.
He does silly things.
It's not what you wear
on your feet, Danny.
It's how you carry yourself
makes a decent man.
Come on. Have a throw.
Arm extended behind you.
Level with your shoulder.
One action, straight through.
Shoulder and hip.
Bless you. Come.
Must keep the filing even.
Craftsmanship and patience,
That song you were singing
this morning.
Your Granddey's favourite, hey?
Sang it while he worked,
sang it while he ate.
Sang it in his sleep.
Speaking of, bed.
Son, you have to be up
at sparrow's fart
to collect your brothers
and sister.
I was hoping I could help Yadaka
finish the wood.
A story, please, Ma! Please?
The bullock one.
Yadaka might want to hear it.
No, Yadaka, you tell your story,
about the clown called
Tippo in the circus.
Fillis Circus, Missus.
South African circus.
I was good with the children
that came to watch.
Started in my homelands.
Land of the coloured sands
and rainforest.
They abandoned me in Melbourne.
I was arrested
for being destitute.
Father Matthews procured
my release from jail.
He gave me a white name.
- A white name?
- But I don't use it.
Taught me to read, write,
and play the tuba.
About ten days back now,
Ma went to put the broom away.
She hears this snortin'
and gruntin.'
The others are out back,
Ma goes to the door.
Cracks it open.
There's this big
bloody wild bullock,
horns the width
of a grown man's arm span.
Ay! Ah!
My brothers and sister
start to move around front.
The bullock looks over at them.
I give Ma the gun.
She uses the door frame
as her guide.
Shot him
straight between the eyes.
What'd you just say?
How you shot the bullock
straight between the eyes.
Goodnight, son.
Night, Yadaka.
The last few days
are catching up on me.
Missus, it's me. It's me!
Found this tucked underneath
the workbench.
Give it here.
No throwing it at your brothers.
Come on.
Bless you.
Thank you.
As I was saying,
I wonder what Mrs Johnson's had?
A new baby,
wouldn't it be wonderful?
Little baby to 'goo'
and 'gah' over.
You promised.
I'm worried about you.
I'll send for a doctor.
I would love to go up there
and see her and the new...
How thoughtless.
We should have offered
to take the children back.
I can't get out to see her
regarding business,
let alone for leisure.
Certainly not with you
as sick as you are.
- Mmm.
- Mmm.
I hope she's alright out there.
Any advancements
on the murder case?
Ahh, once reinforcements arrive,
we'll head back out
to the Edwards' property
for a thorough search
and we'll go from there.
What's this?
Oh, good Lord.
- That's the perfect gift.
- Mmm.
Papa told me to give it to you
the day after your first day.
He said you would
appreciate it more.
How'd you keep it hidden?
Well, the real question is,
how did I keep it dry
in that blasted river?
Thank you.
Uh, could you fix
Trooper Leslie a plate?
He's been there all night.
Yes, of course.
But first...
Well, well, well.
First published female
writer in Everton.
Which is named after
Evelyn Edwards.
How's that for
some local trivia?
Founding family, arrived 1820s.
Folklore has it, Charles Edwards
fathered a Black child.
Whitest 'something' around,
something like that.
Um, well, may one ask,
under what guise did this
conversation take place?
Well, Miss Shirley
called it history.
'Battered Wives - Is it
purely a husband's right?'
It's a serious topic
to introduce yourself with.
Well I'm very serious about
this, Nate.
My sister remained silent
and died.
City life, bush,
or mountain country,
we need to give it a voice.
It needs legislation.
You look very handsome in
your hat, Sergeant Clintoff.
- This is a first.
- New legislation.
Joe Johnson head home?
Was he in town?
Well, his horse was tethered
to a tree in the yard.
- So I am assuming.
- Mc-No.
We found his horse running
with some brumbies.
We're headin' out there
later today,
see if me old mate's alright.
Take his horse back.
First time in eight years
he's missed the drove.
First time. Eight years.
Missed the drove.
Why you askin'?
Thank you, gentlemen.
Gentlemen's a bit much.
But gidday to ya.
Good luck.
I'm heading out
to the Johnson's.
I'll fix your hair.
Your features are quite fine.
White father.
You know him?
I don't think my mother
even knew him.
You got family?
I did.
Black shining skin
in full moonlight.
And when she danced, smooth.
Like shallow running water
over river rocks.
I found my wife and my children,
all the old people,
Reading the tracks.
My family forced into the river.
The water slowing them.
They were fired upon,
from both banks.
Tribe put me out.
I wouldn't go with them
for payback.
I knew nothing would come of it.
Too many whites.
Too many guns now.
I didn't know my Ma.
She died giving birth to me.
Pet name to Mary.
It is you.
That Ngarigo woman
that helped you.
Ginny May.
She's my adopted mother.
On the night you were born,
she held you in her arms
while your father cried over
your dead mother's body.
Gins help white women
in childbirth all the time.
She's helped me.
Ginny May kept the story alive
of her sister's love
for a man of wrong skin.
Black Mary.
Fire red hair,
"whitest gin around."
That's what the district folk
would call her.
Black Mary worked as a cook
for some drovers
and your Da was one of them.
Your mother.
She's Black.
You are done here.
Ginny May knew that Black Mary's
love for the Scotsman was real,
and his for her.
Your mother and father
kept to themselves
'cause no-one would accept them.
Their love was deep
as the highest peak
to the lowest valley
and as wild as the Snowy River.
Black Mary's your mother.
Ngarigo, your family.
No shame in that.
You take your filthy
talking mouth
and you get the fuck off
my land.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!
Whoa, whoa. Steady, girl.
Steady on now.
I heard yelling.
Is everything alright here?
Yes, thank you.
I'll attend to my duties.
Don't you move!
Good Lord. It is you.
In the Queen's name,
I arrest you for the murder
of Mrs Edwards and her children.
And you, Mrs Johnson, I'll need
you to accompany me
to the lock-up for questioning.
I didn't know he killed any...
Regarding the
whereabouts of your husband.
He didn't make the drove.
His fellow workers
found his horse.
Now put down the gun,
Mrs Johnson, please.
But my children
will be home soon.
Stay down. I will shoot.
I can't go with you.
My children.
I'm under strict orders
to bring you in.
- If I come with you...
Mrs Johnson, please.
- Take me, boss.
- What'll happen to my children?
- Down.
- Take me.
- Quiet!
- My children will be home soon.
- Put the gun down!
I'm your concern.
- Take me, boss.
- I will shoot! Mrs Johnson!
What will happen to my children?
Take me.
- Shut up, woman!
Bury him deep.
I've always thought that.
Well, assumed it, actually.
Molly Johnson's mother.
Black Mary.
Whitest gin around.
That's what the district folk
would call her.
I remember the talk well.
Cocksure woman. Spoke well.
Held her head high.
Eyeballed her superiors.
The audacity of the heathen.
Mixed blood, you see.
She thought it gave her
some sort of superiority.
Men were infatuated.
Rumour has it, Black Mary is
an offspring of Charles Edwards.
FATHER Mc- Now, now, sister.
"If any man among you
seem to be religious
"and bridleth not his tongue
but deceiveth his own heart,"
"this man's religion is vain."
James 1, Verse 26.
Forgive me, dear brother,
for I have sinned.
Octoroons is what I would call
Molly Johnson's children.
Just a touch of the tar brush,
but enough.
For their protection,
the children's removal
is authorised.
- I should be leaving, Missus.
- You should.
Come with me.
There's a cave.
North-east, two and a half days'
walk from here.
You'll come to the great
waterhole. Keep to the right.
You'll hit Snowgum Alley.
Keep the range on your left.
As it thickens,
there's a cluster of rocks
that looks like a... a fortress.
It's there.
Food, shelter, blankets.
And in the spring, people.
Your people.
That's where I'm heading.
I'll fix you some food.
Did you believe her?
I'm fine, thank you
for your concern.
I'm sorry.
Who were you referring to?
Doesn't matter.
Well, it must.
You, standing at the window
at this ridiculous hour
of the morning.
Molly Johnson.
Her husband, waving his hat,
with joy at seeing the children.
Somehow it didn't ring true.
The look on her children's faces
gave it away as well.
You will be my saving grace
if I can blame you
for all of this.
The Trooper.
My Joe.
I'm sorry, but my children need
me. They need their mother.
I'd never just kill
for the sake of it,
but fight for my children,
fight for my life, I will.
Make no excuses for it.
That's what you did?
He's buried there,
under the wood heap.
His grave, shallow.
That's why the mound was there.
The children were going to be
up soon.
Just stacked
the last of the wood on top.
Take them.
For your safety.
You're a good man.
She killed him.
Why would you say such a thing?
There was a smell around
the wood heap, so...
Bittersweet smell.
I've smelt it before.
In war.
I smelt it again,
at the Edwards'.
Maybe Mrs Johnson
was protecting herself.
I know at the core of your
plight is your sister's death.
But you can't pollute every man
and wife's marital dispute
with your own biased perception.
The boy related your injury
to the normalcy of violence
inflicted upon one by a father.
Why would one say such a thing
if they had not a story
of their own to compare?
This land needs law.
Not a moral compass.
Whilst hunting savages
in this land,
please do not turn into one.
Can I call on Danny,
say in six months' time?
Please, it's too dangerous.
Take him on his first kill,
with his spear.
Thinking Men's Business.
I promised him.
And if I can take you
and your daughter on a walk
where the Snowy
starts to widen...
there's these
beautiful wildflowers.
Be blooming by then.
Don't move, ya black bastard.
I'll put a bullet
through your fuckin' head.
State your business.
I drive with Joe.
Except this drove
he didn't show.
First time in eight years.
And I felt obliged to drop by
and see if me old mate's
And on hearing
what I just heard,
I'm more than a little worried.
- No need to be, Mr...
- Parsen. Robert Parsen.
No need for your concern,
Mr Robert Parsen.
Who the fuck did you kill
to get them clothes?
You dare look a white
man in the eye, jacky?
I find your facial expression
inappropriate for a nigger.
You wearing Joe's boots,
ya bastard!
No, wait!
I gave them to him for some work
he had done.
You got no shame, ya harlot!
- I beg your pardon?
- You heard me.
Now where's my mate?
Where's Joe?
Gone. Left me.
All alone with the children.
No food, no nothing.
And my wee one dead,
dead from all the worry.
And this man offered to help
and for his time,
I gave him Joe's boots.
What the fuck's Joe got
on his feet?
I found him in a compromising
position with a whore.
Riding him, she was, and it
wasn't fuckin' side saddle.
Good for him.
Here, leave it!
Where the hell are ya,
ya useless bastard?
What the fuck happened here?
Rope up this Black bastard.
Mc-Well, well, well.
Looky, looky here.
What took you so long?
I had to take a shit.
These are Joe's boots.
Leave it.
This hard-headed
bastard's still alive.
Oh, hello.
- Argh!
- Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Put it down. Or I'll put
a hole through ya.
Are you gonna shoot her?
Depends on her.
Please, my children.
My children!
Ma, it's me.
He dead, Ma?
Two of your Da's mates
stopped by.
They brought word about your Da.
On the drove,
up in the high country.
Your Da's horse slipped.
Stop, Ma.
Hitting his head.
Dead. Something like that.
That'll do.
No, Ma!
It has to be.
I know, Ma!
Know what, son?
Not a very happy night
for my birthday.
Shaming me manhood
in front of a whore!
Joe, please.
Think of the children.
Shoot him.
Our secret.
Where are the others?
Did you say something?
Where are your brothers
and sister?
Miss Shirley.
Miss Shirley told that judge
fella. Called us Octoroons.
What's that, Ma?
Come on. Get your coat.
You have been very good to me
and my children over the years
and for that I am very grateful.
But damn you to hell
for thinking
you know what's best
for my children.
I'm taking your gun
or the boy dies.
Where are you two off to
on this fine morning?
Well, huh?
I'm talkin' to ya, woman.
Tell him to put it down.
Danny, please.
- On the ground.
Please don't hurt my son.
Well, that depends on him.
Danny, put it down.
Danny, put it down.
Put it down.
I'll do whatever you want.
But please let my...
my son go.
- Eugh!
I'll meet you there. Remember?
The cave we spoke about?