The Scalphunters (1968) Movie Script
# My mother was a Baptist, boys
# My father was a Jew
# My sister married an orphan
# At the battle of Waterloo
# Don't ever kiss a Hindu, boys
# Unless you are engaged
# True love is never found with girls
# Who dance upon the stage
# Andy Jackson saw a bear
# And chased him up a tree
# A hound dog would have caught the fox
# If he hadn't stopped to...
# My mother was a Baptist, boys
# My father was a Jew
# My sister married an orphan
# At the battle of Waterloo
Hello, Two Crows.
Like hell we will.
Damn your eyes,
I spent all winter getting them furs.
And they're not for trade here.
What the hell do I want with him?
I don't care how you got him.
Wait a minute. I know he's brave as
a buffalo. You don't have to slice him up.
I don't want him.
You're all right, Two Crows.
You ought to be a white man.
You'd be captain of the steamboat
and president of the bank.
Just cos you own this damn country.
What are you standing there for?
Can't you speak English?
- No, sir.
- What do you mean, "No, sir"?
I mean I wish I didn't.
Come over here.
Turn around.
You sure don't look like you're worth
a winter trapping of furs.
No, sir, I'm not.
In fact, sir, I'm not worth anything.
- What's your name?
- Joseph Winfield Lee.
Formerly of the Comanche tribe,
until stolen by the Kiowas.
- You're far from home. You run away?
- As the spirits directed me, sir.
You don't talk like a field slave.
You kill anybody when you ran off?
No, sir. That's contrary to the law.
You think what those Indians did to me
was the law?
- Just cos I'm trespassing?
- No, sir.
Caveat emptor legalis semper.
Let the buyer beware.
- I've heard that said.
- Where'd you learn them wise remarks?
I was privileged to associate with one of
the best-educated families in Louisiana.
- I can read, write and cipher.
- Don't brag on it.
- Pick up that bag. Let's go.
- Where to?
To get my furs back.
Where the hell do you think?
Can I ask you a question, sir? How
do you plan to fight all those Kiowas?
By natural application of superior tactics,
Massachusetts wit, and left-handed skill.
Oh. You're gonna shoot 'em, sir.
Hell, no.
There's a cask of trade rum in that pack.
Them Indians'll have a drunk party
and I'll get back my packhorse and furs.
- What about me, sir?
- I'll sell you to the highest bidder.
Could you make that to a Comanche?
You seem to have a prejudice
against serving the white race.
I don't mean to be narrow in my attitude.
Could I ask you what's your name, sir?
Joe Bass.
Well, Mr Bass, couldn't you kinda
consider me a captured Comanche?
I came on foot as far as the Comanches.
It was my intention
to circle south to Mexico.
The Mexicans have a law against slavery.
And since those Indians captured me from
Indians, I now have full Indian citizenship.
- Joseph Lee, you ever study the law?
- No, sir.
Neither did I. But you ain't got a chance
in hell of calling yourself an Indian.
You're African.
Slave by employment, black by colour.
You ain't gonna walk good enough
to catch them Kiowas.
- I guess I'm a failure as a packhorse, sir.
- A man don't ever say quit, Joseph Lee.
No, sir. He doesn't.
Hand me that bag.
Crab onto her tail.
See the superiority of the white-skinned
race when it comes to walking.
My ancestors were famous as liars,
walkers and patriots. Are you patriotic?
Yes, sir. Fourth of July
I generally set up quite a holler.
Of course, if someone came along now
they might figure you own me.
- You're riding, I'm walking.
- But that's not the case.
In a manner of speaking, you are
the image of my packhorse and fur pelts.
- I'd take good care of 'em, wouldn't I?
- Yes, sir.
They're a valuable
wholesale or retail commodity.
You wouldn't be thinking of
grabbing those reins and running off?
I doubt it, sir.
- You doubt it?
- I'm not sure of the directions.
I haven't any food and, as a Comanche,
I might run into those Kiowas again.
Tired?
You hear that? Two Crows and his boys
are in that gully having a hell of a time.
You just sit here and rest
for about five minutes while I take a look.
Pick 'em up.
- I've decided what I'm gonna do with you.
- Sell me to Egypt.
I'm gonna sell you in St Louis. You'll retail
for about 15 mules and 10 bales of cotton.
- Yes, sir.
- Don't try to run. You can't get nowhere.
- Yes, sir.
- And shut up.
Yes, sir.
Shh!
Well, Mr Bass, there they are. Co get 'em.
Just like that?
I'd say they're considerably
under the influence.
- You ever fight 12 drunk Indians?
- No, sir. But I'd like to see it done.
As a Comanche,
what I'd do is run off their horses.
You're an African Comanche.
But you're right.
- You see that brush?
- Yes, sir.
- I want you to get down there.
- Right now, sir?
When it gets dark.
That's mesquite. It'll burn.
- I want you to start a fire.
- What'll you do, sir?
When they go for the fire,
I'll stampede their horses.
They'll be so drunk, I'll get my packhorse
and furs and be gone.
- Can I say something, Mr Bass?
- What is it?
If you're gonna sell me back into being
a runaway slave, do it all yourself.
Of course, if you help me get to Mexico,
then maybe I'll help you.
Joseph Lee, I expect that someday
you'll be president of the Bank of Omaha.
But right now you're going down there
and do as I tell you.
Or I'll skin your black carcass.
Cet my rifle. Co on.
Over there!
All right, let's go!
Scalphunters.
Collect a $25 bounty on Indian scalps.
Men, women and children. Like jackals.
Territory government pays it.
Dirtiest, rottenest trade
ever turned a dollar.
- Let's go.
- Where are we going, sir?
After 'em.
After 'em?
How the hell do you think I'm going to
get my furs back if I don't go after 'em?
Mr Bass, I do not intend to put up with
any more of this walking.
Now, either you slow down
and talk to me,
or I'll just have to pull you off that horse
and knock you on your high-priced pants.
Are you deaf as well as dumb, Mr Bass?
Mr Bass, you're threatening my temper.
Mr Bass!
Mr Bass.
Sir, why are you so bound and determined
to catch up with those murdering people?
Haven't you got anything else to do?
I just don't say something, then not do it.
I am completely
and absolutely exhausted. Empty.
- I've got to have something to eat.
- You ate yesterday.
Mr Bass, I have been trained in the habit
of eating each and every individual day.
That proves you ain't a Comanche.
Comanche would keep going till he died.
- I'm so hungry I could eat a frog or snake.
- Comanches do. Regular.
- But I'm not a Comanche.
- Aha!
Oh, Mr Bass.
You see that?
Sego lily. Just like an onion.
Finest thing you ever saw.
You see this?
Sagebrush.
Crows where nothing else will.
You make Indian tea out of the leaves,
and it makes a passable fodder for stock.
Look around you, Joseph Lee.
All natural creation.
Maguey. Makes a fine soap
for washing down a squaw.
Brings the bloom of sunrise to her skin.
Watch this.
A needle and thread. For sewing things.
Here we are, Joseph Lee,
in the Carden of Eden.
Just like Adam and Eve.
Chokecherries. They make a fine pudding.
You like pudding?
Joseph Lee, let's eat.
Co get 'em, Joseph Lee. I'm hungry.
I guess a slave like you got fed
pretty good in that big house kitchen.
Sleeping in a bed every night.
Maybe you should have stayed
where you was.
Vir libre quam in servitude.
"Better beans in freedom
than cake in slavery. "
Aesop. And he was a slave himself
back in the Creek times.
Trouble with you is
you read too many books.
You call it right when a man's a slave?
Owned, worked, beat all the time?
Natural state of affairs, Joseph Lee.
Black man started
being a slave in the Bible.
If Cod didn't want it that way, Cod
wouldn't have done it. Consult your Bible.
Cod didn't invent slavery.
The Egyptians did.
Sold all the children of Israel.
That ain't the way I read Scripture.
- What about Julius Caesar?
- Who?
Julius Caesar. He was an Italian. He made
slaves out of all you Englishmen.
Julius Caesar made slaves
of every kind of white man.
Put chains on 'em, dragged 'em
back to Rome and fed 'em to the lions.
Africans like me, we didn't care
that much for Julius Caesar.
Never heard of him.
That's cos you don't know how to read.
- I could bust you in the jaw.
- Wouldn't change anything.
And it wouldn't change you into
a white man. Cet that through your head.
Let's see you write your name.
Let's see you feed yourself, Julius Caesar.
You wait here, Joseph Lee.
I'm going to take a look around.
- Mr Bass!
- Shh!
Co down there and those people
will just kill the literal hell outta you.
Now, don't you move.
Mr Bass.
Shh.
Howie! How many times I gotta tell you?
Cet that sack of hair off my wagon.
Now, Kate, honey,
them scalps is worth $25 apiece.
That don't mean we gotta sleep with 'em.
- That little old smell bother you?
- That ain't all that's bothering me.
Kate. Kate.
- Morning, Miss Kate.
- Morning, Mr Howie.
Shut up.
Co get some clothes on. I don't want
these men getting horny notions.
Stop talking like a preacher.
If I had half the boots been under my bed,
I could outfit the US Cavalry.
- Hush and get back inside that wagon.
- I'm sick of that damn wagon.
Washing with no bathtub,
getting rats in my hair.
- I'm living like a squaw.
- Kate, honey.
Look at my skin. It's all dried up.
Soon I'm gonna look like an old prune.
- I like prunes.
- Howie, I'm warning you.
If you don't find someplace I can live
decent, you'll be sleeping with your horse.
Kate, honey. It's gonna be all right.
And stop chewing that damn tobacco!
You ever kiss anybody chewed tobacco?
Ain't she darling? Now you get
those horses hitched and let's move!
Move!
Damn.
Now, Kate, honey.
Don't get your pretty little
dooly-dooly all fussed up.
We was gonna have a fancy house.
With servants.
At last I was gonna live like a lady.
I should've stayed where I was.
You know, I knew a lady one time.
Chewed snuff. A redhead.
She'd stand on a piano and sing songs.
Damn.
Jim Howie, you got as much feelings
as a bald-headed hog.
Oh, Kate, honey.
There's no cause to talk that way.
I'm gonna get you these things. I told you.
Oh...
Centlemen. Am I glad to see you.
I have been chased and run over
every rock pile for the past 50 miles.
I saw your wagons, and I knew right there
my trials and tribulations were over.
- Anybody with you?
- Nobody, sir. Nobody at all.
- What's your name, son?
- Black Feather, sir.
I was adopted into the Wolf tribe
of the Comanche nation.
The Kiowas set up a terrible slaughter
on us three days ago. I escaped.
I'll just travel along with you gentlemen
till I get back to my tribe.
- What'll he sell for, Jed?
- Oh, about 1,000.
1500 on the Calveston block,
if he ain't lame or got belly worms.
Throw a rope on him.
- Let's move out!
- Hey! Hey!
Wait! Wait a minute! Wait a minute!
Stop! Wait!
I started out in life
a prosperous, good-looking trapper.
And now, by Cod,
I ain't even got a slave no more.
- Whoa!
- Hey, hold on.
- Cet up there, boy. Come on.
- No, sir.
- I said get up there. Right now.
- No, sir.
What the hell's going on down here?
Camp meeting?
I'm not gonna be worth anything
like this. Ruined on my feet.
- Drag him!
- Sir!
I'd be worth much more to you if you let
me ride. Besides, I'm slowing you down.
- Holding you back.
- That's the first good sense I heard today.
You hush up and read your stargazing
book and let me run my business.
Then why don't you run it
like you knew what you was doing?
Look at that. Ain't she pretty?
All right, let him ride. Move it out!
Thank you, sir.
Not now, Julius Caesar.
Heading for church, sonny?
No, sir, Mr Howie.
I was just, um... making a botanical study,
you might say.
You see that? Sagebrush.
Crows where nothing else will.
Make Indian tea from the leaves,
and it makes a passable fodder for stock.
Look around you, Mr Howie.
All natural creation! Here we are in the
Carden of Eden. Just like Adam and Eve.
- Cet that water the hell back up there.
- Yes, sir, Mr Howie. Yes, sir.
- Beans, beans, beans. I'll look like beans.
- Nothing wrong with beans, honey.
I like beans.
What I wouldn't give for a decent meal.
On a white linen tablecloth,
all fixed up nice.
I listen to you, Jim Howie, and I end up
bouncing over every rock in creation.
My hair's all snarled up like a dish mop.
When we gonna start living
in some kinda style?
When the hell we ever
gonna get to Mexico?
Miss Kate.
You see that? Maguey.
Did you know that that makes
a fine soap for a lady's care?
Brings the bloom of sunrise to her skin.
Used in the ancient times
by the Queen of Sheba
to restore the natural oils
to her beautiful blonde hair.
- You mean that old common cactus?
- Yes, Miss Kate.
Botanical name Vir pluribus undulatum.
Known to the Comanches as maguey.
Really? You mean...
Yes, Miss Kate.
You sure this won't fade out my natural
colour and turn it into somethin' horsey?
Oh, no, Miss Kate. On the contrary.
Did I hear you say
you were going to Mexico?
Cot to. All the law in the country's
looking for me and Jim Howie.
Oh, Mexico's a wonderful country,
Miss Kate. The haciendas and all that.
- You been to Mexico?
- Uh, no, ma'am.
But I speak the language. Buenos dias,
buenas noches, muchas gracias.
Why, you'll be right in the most
high-toned society, Miss Kate. A lady.
First thing I'm gonna get rid of this busted
corset and buy me some fancy clothes.
You'll need quality trained servants. Takes
proper service to put on the right style.
Oh?
You mean like you?
I'd be honoured to serve you, Miss Kate.
Jim Howie's dead set on selling you
on the Calveston block.
No way around that.
Jim Howie don't always do
everything he sets his mind to.
You have a very interesting
texture to your hair.
Fine like gossamer. Like Helen of Troy.
Well, he fixed it pretty fancy, huh?
I wonder what he's after.
Mighty fine, boy.
Sego lily, Mr Howie. Just like an onion.
Finest thing you ever saw.
- What the hell are you after?
- After, Mr Howie? After?
He just likes to serve quality folk.
Quality folk!
Coddamn.
I don't wanna hear
that mushmouth, honey.
I got a rope burn on my neck where they
tried to hang me one time in Sacramento.
And the first time I met you
was in Ma Hogan's tent, remember?
And you weren't exactly sewing canvas.
- You hush your mouth now, Howie.
- Quality folk!
And I never worked no tent.
Dammit, can't you say
I'm pretty or somethin'?
You're the prettiest woman that ever
wore garters and crossed her legs.
Howie, stop chewing that tobacco.
Come on, honey. Let's dance.
You look mighty elegant, Miss Kate.
Bailemos, compadre.
Come on, Joseph Lee. Fight him.
- Co on, boy. Let's see you fight.
- Punch him again.
Come on, boy.
You can fight him, boy.
Move in on him. Bust him one.
Come on, boy.
Look out, Yuma, he'll hurt you!
Come on, Julius Caesar. Fight him.
- Cet up, boy.
- Hit him again. Hit him!
The old daddy wolf does the cutting here.
You don't wanna damage
our $1500 property.
You go soak your head, boy.
Cimme back my feathers.
Crab your partner!
Julius Caesar, you're a hell of
a dancing man, but you sure can't fight.
See that guard over there by the horses?
Co over there and give him
some of that fancy talk.
I'll sneak up and bust him one.
Then we'll load up my furs and get out.
The both of us.
Damn you, Lee, aren't you listening?
- I'm not sure if I am or not, Mr Bass.
- What?
I like you, Mr Bass.
You treated me decent.
And you're a religious man.
Know all about Ham, the black man
in the Bible. Adam and Eve.
- What the hell are you talking about?
- These people are going to Mexico.
You mean... you mean you're
going to stay with these heathens?
Well, you see, Mr Bass...
Mr Bass, you'd better consult Mr Howie.
He owns me now.
- Why, damn your black hide, I traded...
- Shh!
Oh, Mr Bass. Well, then, you'll understand.
A slave has no choice of masters.
Just goes to the highest bidder.
Mr Howie's bidding Mexico.
Fine country, Mexico. I think I'll like it.
No slavery there.
I oughta kill you...
I'll show him.
That damned ungrateful black Comanche.
You stay here and be quiet.
And stop eating that tree.
Unless you're gonna double-cross me too.
Co get Yancy some food.
All right, I've got you.
Easy does it. There you go.
Whoa, boy.
Easy, boy. Easy.
Shh!
Hey, Yan...
Hey, Yancy!
Howie!
Howie!
Come on, jughead.
This is no time to quit on me.
- All right, what was it?
- A renegade Apache.
Joe Bass, you socialise with these people,
you're gonna get yourself scalped...
Miss Kate.
The night air's chill.
You need a wrap.
? In our lovely Deseret
? Where the saints of Cod have met
? Tea and coffee and tobacco we despise
? We've no liquor, yet we eat
? Just a very little meat
? We are seeking to be
great and good and wise
- ? We should not forget to pray
- Please, Kate.
- ? Night and morning every day
- Will you stop singing Mormon songs?
Cet out of that bed, you lazy bum.
It's Sunday morning.
? And we always be polite
? And treat everybody right
Now, Kate, you ain't even a Mormon.
So will you shut up?
? Hark, hark, hark, 'tis angels' voices
Anything funny?
Cet me some water, boy.
Yes, sir.
Don't reach for nothing, mister.
Walk up here, mister,
or I'll kill you where you stand.
Easy.
I knew it. It's the law.
No, ma'am.
I mean, I hope not, Miss Kate.
That's close enough. Take your hat off.
Now reach up and scratch your ear.
"Scratch your...?"
You want to keep that ear, turn that
packhorse loose and get on your way.
- Them beaver skins is mine.
- Yours?
I risked my life for them pelts.
I fought me a dozen Kiowas.
You slaughtered 'em,
you scalphunting bastard.
Now, hold on.
That's no cause to dry-gulch a man.
Steal his furs. Wreck his water barrel.
You know, that ain't fair.
Cut loose that packhorse!
I ain't gonna kill you, but I ought to.
Now go on back there and keep moving.
Walk!
You crook!
Let's get outta here!
That bushwhacking half-breed.
We'll give him his furs back.
Dead. Let's move it out.
Frank!
Cet Yuma and flank that half-breed.
Hold it here.
Keep that first wagon moving.
Oh, Mr Bass. Those furs aren't worth it.
- What did you say, boy?
- Nothing, Mr Howie. Nothing.
Hey, bushwhacker.
Set your gun down.
- Howie, we gotta...
- Will you shut up, Kate?
Looking for me, scalphunter?
Lay that gun down.
Damn. Frank's got him!
There he is! Come on, get him.
Renegade Apache.
Renegade Apache, my ass!
Hey, Howie!
Jim!
Clear them rocks away.
Hey, mister!
Cut loose that packhorse and furs.
Move that wagon or I'll roll
half this mountain down on you.
Whoa! Hold on, friend.
You've got me.
Kate, get off that wagon.
- Howie, be careful.
- Now, you, Kate, hush up.
All right, move that wagon on down.
All right. Hold on, we're going.
OK, boy. Cimme a hand.
Mount your horses.
Cet in that wagon. Cit.
- Virgo's passed Jupiter in the third phase.
- What?
Sagittarius and Cassiopeia
are in the ascendancy.
That's right. How'd you know that?
Miss Kate, when is Mr Howie's birthday?
He's a Leo. July 27th.
July 27th. I was afraid of that.
You sure Virgo is passing Jupiter?
Mr Howie is a strong, powerful man.
A Leo. A natural leader, right?
Did you know that Napoleon Bonaparte
was a Leo too, Miss Kate?
The same birthday as Mr Howie.
And when he met Waterloo...
Destroyed. Virgo had passed Jupiter
in the third phase.
That's gonna happen now.
Did you really study
all about reading the stars?
Well, as far back as
the, um, Egyptian Pharaohs.
And the Hebrew prophets. Down through
Persia, Babylon and Mesopotamia.
Shalom, abi gezunt, aleph, beth, gimel.
Tell me, how's it gonna be for Virgo?
I'm a Virgo.
Pythagoras.
I see a cloud. A threatening cloud.
Travelling. Travelling.
- Miss Kate, I hate to tell you this...
- Tell me, tell me.
Something evil following us.
Has been following us for days.
Something covered with, um... hair.
The Indian scalps.
That packhorse with those damn fur pelts.
Right! An evil combination.
The spirit of the dead Kiowas...
and the zodiac configuration of the stars.
What do you mean?
Look.
Jupiter moving in on Pluto.
Disaster. Death. A man killed.
- Mr Howie.
- Jim?
Listen, I've read the stars.
I didn't see all that happening.
- But where did you look?
- Right here. Page...
Oh, Miss Kate!
I mean here. Pisces, Libra, Capricorn.
And here. Those furs...
and that man out there...
are the Scorpio satanic configuration
of death for Jim Howie.
And the stars never lie.
But Howie don't believe in all...
He don't believe in anything.
But we do.
And we know it's true.
Don't we?
Then it's up to us.
You.
Me? How?
Cut loose that packhorse.
Cet rid of those evil furs.
Tonight.
I'll do it.
Damn, that's good and vile.
You think I'm going to give up
on those people, don't you?
Well, I ain't.
You got any ideas
about what we ought to do next?
Hell, you never have no ideas
about nothing.
Hey, get outta there!
You damn jughead. That's locoweed.
You'll run around like a coyote with his
guts hanging out. Let's see your mouth.
Open it up. Come on. Open it up.
If you ate any of that stuff,
we're both done for.
You'll be crazy in the head
and I'll be walking.
How do you feel?
Well, I might as well find out.
If you throw me
I'll know you had a bellyful.
Whoa, now. Whoa. Easy.
Well, I guess you're all right.
Now, will you bend down
and pick up my rifle? I'm tired.
By Cod, you have got an idea.
Cet those other horses in here.
- Bring 'em up!
- Cet 'em all in.
Whoa. Whoa!
What the...?
Qu pasa con estos caballos?
Howie! Howie!
What the hell is wrong with them horses?
Cet 'em out of the water!
Don't look at me like that.
It was your idea.
Dirty rotten Comanche trick!
- You gonna keep those skins?
- If I have to pack 'em on your back.
You're gonna have us
crawling on our bellies.
You don't shut up, I'm gonna kick your
backside right up to your shoulder blades.
Can I say something, Mr Howie?
Wouldn't it make more sense
just to give the man his furs back?
Well, I'll be damned.
Now I've heard everything.
What in hell is this world coming to?
If you give that man his furs back,
he'll let you alone.
I know him, Mr Howie.
- You what?
- What?
I was with the Indians
when they took his furs from him.
All he wants is what's his.
Well, well, well, well.
I'm a curly-haired, blue-eyed angel.
- And you're in with him.
- No, sir.
But I know him, Mr Howie. Let me go
talk to him. Maybe he'll listen to me.
Howie, listen to him.
Just how long you think you're gonna
stay alive? Look at your men.
Well?
Is that the way you want it?
Jed?
Well, Yancy?
I just want to get to Mexico. Alive.
It makes sense.
Four men we rode with... dead.
Loco'd our horses.
And you want me to give him the furs?
I don't care!
Hell, give him everything! Co ahead.
And I hope he blows your head off.
Hey! You want to give him
my whiskey, too?
Catch more flies with honey
than with vinegar, Mr Howie.
Jim Howie's boys...
are gonna quit.
Split the guts of five
United States marshals.
Took half the banks of Kansas.
Took a whole town full of Chink miners.
And jumped more Indians
than the United States Cavalry.
And Jim Howie's boys are gonna quit.
For one man.
For one man.
Mr Bass!
Mr Bass, where are you?
Mr Bass. Speak to me.
Damn you, Joe Bass.
I wonder why I go to all this trouble.
Cetting myself abused
by that bloodthirsty Jim Howie.
And all for you and your measly furs,
you ill-mannered, unlettered oaf.
Mr Bass, speak up!
I know you're out there, sneaking around.
Who do you think you are? Daniel Boone?
What's the matter, Julius Caesar?
Cet lost again?
Mr Bass, please. You ruin a man's
mortal insides when you do that.
What are you here for?
To help them people kill me?
They don't want to kill you any more.
They want you to stop killing them.
They'll leave your furs and go.
You lying, split-tongue African Comanche.
You think I'd trust anything you say?
I'd take the word of that scalphunter
before I'd believe you.
I'm telling the truth.
They've had enough.
Don't you lie to me no more.
I'll get my furs.
And you and them people
will be for the vultures.
What you got there?
What you got there?
Cood drinking whiskey.
Mr Howie's own stock.
Thought you could maybe
use a drink about now.
You sure made your way with
those people. You got their whiskey.
You're doing their bushwhacking for 'em.
Sashaying along with that fancy woman.
Throw you in the pigpen and you'd
come out vice president of the hogs.
If Cod ever made better inventions than
a pretty woman or a bottle of whiskey,
I ain't heard of it.
Mr Bass.
Could I have a drink of that?
If I was to give you a drink of this whiskey,
it'd be like pouring it out on the sand.
Whiskey's a man's drink. And you
ain't no man. You ain't no part of a man.
You're a mealy-mouthed, shufflebutt slave
and you've picked a master.
So don't go asking
to take a drink with a man.
You think mighty well of yourself,
don't you, Joe Bass?
You know how long you would last
as a coloured man?
About one minute.
The trouble with all your fighting, Joe
Bass, is you don't know when you've won.
Co ahead. Kill us all.
Lee.
Tell 'em to move out and leave my furs.
Joseph Lee.
Come back here.
Tell 'em from here.
Mr Howie!
Move out.
That's everybody.
Don't seem right,
that man doing an honest thing.
They just want to be rid of you.
Where are you going, Julius Caesar?
With them. Where I aim to.
- To Mexico.
- Wait a minute.
Walk on down there ahead of me.
Hold it there.
Tie her up.
Co on. Scat.
This one won't scalp any more Indians.
Look out!
I busted his skull! I've done it!
The old daddy wolf, he done it. He done it.
Mr Howie.
OK.
- No.
- You killed my men,
and loco'd my horses.
And now... I gotta punish you.
I'm gonna take your hair, and peel
your pretty white hide one inch at a time.
Quit talking, you ugly bastard, and do it.
I'm going to hear you cry,
and I'm going to hear you beg.
- No, Mr Howie.
- Cet off of me.
- You don't have to kill him, Mr Howie.
- Boy, I'm gonna kill you too.
Now, my boy, you...
you put that knife down.
Cut him, Lee. Cut him!
Now, you listen to me.
Now, listen to me, my boy.
I won't lift his hair.
I won't sell you.
And I'll let you go on with me.
To Mexico.
- Now, drop that knife, boy.
- Don't listen to him.
You really don't want to kill a man.
Do you?
I mean, do you?
Now you're using your head, boy.
Lee!
Cet it, Lee!
Yowee!
Joseph Lee, you did it!
By Cod and by thunder, you did it!
I couldn't be more proud
if you was my own grandpa.
Joseph Lee, you sure deserve that drink.
Now untie me.
Ahh.
He's sure taking his own sweet time.
- You worrying about Jim Howie?
- Stick him, he bleeds like anybody else.
That may be true, only he's the one
gonna be doing all the sticking.
- Why isn't he back here by now?
- You think he'd aim at a man, then miss?
One man, no.
But there are two back there.
Joe Bass, you're looking at a rich man.
I might just hire you and your horse
to take me to Mexico.
Isn't there anything
you want to say to me?
Like "Thank you, Mr Lee"?
- Co to hell.
- Don't you mean "Co to hell, Mr Lee"?
Oh, quit acting like a damn fool.
First time you had guts enough to fight,
you puff around like a pregnant squaw.
Now untie me.
What the hell are you doing, Lee?
Damn you, Lee, that's my horse.
Cet off him.
Damn your hide, Lee. What are you up to?
Sic transit gloria mundi.
"To the victor belong the spoils. "
Now, wait a minute, Joseph Lee.
Now, just a minute.
Let's you and I palaver.
We've had some differences, but you
wouldn't leave a man alone in the desert.
All tied up, with the crawling snakes.
And the bloodthirsty buzzards.
And the hungry coyotes.
You wouldn't do that.
Leave me to die, all alone. Would you?
You're Joe Bass. You can move
mountains. You'll be all right.
Cet off my horse, you son of a bitch!
You know something, Joe Bass?
You are the most stubborn, love-yourself
man that ever walked Cod's creation.
And somebody just naturally ought to bust
some sense into your hard-boned head.
Somebody ought to just naturally bust
some sense into my hard-boned head?
You wanna try?
Hey, you jughead! Come back here.
Yeah. I wanna try.
All right, Joseph Lee. Cet 'em up.
Protect yourself. Cet your hands higher.
Ow!
Ow!
Indian fighting. Like it?
Let me help you.
Argh! Aaargh!
Can't see, can you?
Aaargh!
Aaaargh!
That ain't fair!
I'm gonna bust you on the jaw for that.
"See the superiority
of the white-skinned race. "
"You're a mealy-mouthed,
shufflebutt slave. "
Whoa! Whoa!
Damn you, Jim Howie. What the hell was
so important about a bunch of lousy furs?
Kate.
Over there.
Time.
Wait a minute. I hear something.
Wait a minute. I really do hear something.
What the hell. They're only men.
Indian man.
I don't know how many wives
you got now,
but you're gonna have the damnedest
white squaw in the Kiowa nation.
You black Comanche!
Where are you?
Two Crows! Ain't you dead?
I'm sure glad to see you, Two Crows.
Hey, wait a minute. Them's my furs.
Cood hunting, Joe Bass.
Hey, wait a minute!
Wait a minute. Wait. Hold it.
You dirty redskins!
You know something?
There's two cases of whiskey
on that wagon.
I'd say by tonight
there's going to be a lot of drunk Indians.
# My father was a Jew
# My sister married an orphan
# At the battle of Waterloo
# Don't ever kiss a Hindu, boys
# Unless you are engaged
# True love is never found with girls
# Who dance upon the stage
# Andy Jackson saw a bear
# And chased him up a tree
# A hound dog would have caught the fox
# If he hadn't stopped to...
# My mother was a Baptist, boys
# My father was a Jew
# My sister married an orphan
# At the battle of Waterloo
Hello, Two Crows.
Like hell we will.
Damn your eyes,
I spent all winter getting them furs.
And they're not for trade here.
What the hell do I want with him?
I don't care how you got him.
Wait a minute. I know he's brave as
a buffalo. You don't have to slice him up.
I don't want him.
You're all right, Two Crows.
You ought to be a white man.
You'd be captain of the steamboat
and president of the bank.
Just cos you own this damn country.
What are you standing there for?
Can't you speak English?
- No, sir.
- What do you mean, "No, sir"?
I mean I wish I didn't.
Come over here.
Turn around.
You sure don't look like you're worth
a winter trapping of furs.
No, sir, I'm not.
In fact, sir, I'm not worth anything.
- What's your name?
- Joseph Winfield Lee.
Formerly of the Comanche tribe,
until stolen by the Kiowas.
- You're far from home. You run away?
- As the spirits directed me, sir.
You don't talk like a field slave.
You kill anybody when you ran off?
No, sir. That's contrary to the law.
You think what those Indians did to me
was the law?
- Just cos I'm trespassing?
- No, sir.
Caveat emptor legalis semper.
Let the buyer beware.
- I've heard that said.
- Where'd you learn them wise remarks?
I was privileged to associate with one of
the best-educated families in Louisiana.
- I can read, write and cipher.
- Don't brag on it.
- Pick up that bag. Let's go.
- Where to?
To get my furs back.
Where the hell do you think?
Can I ask you a question, sir? How
do you plan to fight all those Kiowas?
By natural application of superior tactics,
Massachusetts wit, and left-handed skill.
Oh. You're gonna shoot 'em, sir.
Hell, no.
There's a cask of trade rum in that pack.
Them Indians'll have a drunk party
and I'll get back my packhorse and furs.
- What about me, sir?
- I'll sell you to the highest bidder.
Could you make that to a Comanche?
You seem to have a prejudice
against serving the white race.
I don't mean to be narrow in my attitude.
Could I ask you what's your name, sir?
Joe Bass.
Well, Mr Bass, couldn't you kinda
consider me a captured Comanche?
I came on foot as far as the Comanches.
It was my intention
to circle south to Mexico.
The Mexicans have a law against slavery.
And since those Indians captured me from
Indians, I now have full Indian citizenship.
- Joseph Lee, you ever study the law?
- No, sir.
Neither did I. But you ain't got a chance
in hell of calling yourself an Indian.
You're African.
Slave by employment, black by colour.
You ain't gonna walk good enough
to catch them Kiowas.
- I guess I'm a failure as a packhorse, sir.
- A man don't ever say quit, Joseph Lee.
No, sir. He doesn't.
Hand me that bag.
Crab onto her tail.
See the superiority of the white-skinned
race when it comes to walking.
My ancestors were famous as liars,
walkers and patriots. Are you patriotic?
Yes, sir. Fourth of July
I generally set up quite a holler.
Of course, if someone came along now
they might figure you own me.
- You're riding, I'm walking.
- But that's not the case.
In a manner of speaking, you are
the image of my packhorse and fur pelts.
- I'd take good care of 'em, wouldn't I?
- Yes, sir.
They're a valuable
wholesale or retail commodity.
You wouldn't be thinking of
grabbing those reins and running off?
I doubt it, sir.
- You doubt it?
- I'm not sure of the directions.
I haven't any food and, as a Comanche,
I might run into those Kiowas again.
Tired?
You hear that? Two Crows and his boys
are in that gully having a hell of a time.
You just sit here and rest
for about five minutes while I take a look.
Pick 'em up.
- I've decided what I'm gonna do with you.
- Sell me to Egypt.
I'm gonna sell you in St Louis. You'll retail
for about 15 mules and 10 bales of cotton.
- Yes, sir.
- Don't try to run. You can't get nowhere.
- Yes, sir.
- And shut up.
Yes, sir.
Shh!
Well, Mr Bass, there they are. Co get 'em.
Just like that?
I'd say they're considerably
under the influence.
- You ever fight 12 drunk Indians?
- No, sir. But I'd like to see it done.
As a Comanche,
what I'd do is run off their horses.
You're an African Comanche.
But you're right.
- You see that brush?
- Yes, sir.
- I want you to get down there.
- Right now, sir?
When it gets dark.
That's mesquite. It'll burn.
- I want you to start a fire.
- What'll you do, sir?
When they go for the fire,
I'll stampede their horses.
They'll be so drunk, I'll get my packhorse
and furs and be gone.
- Can I say something, Mr Bass?
- What is it?
If you're gonna sell me back into being
a runaway slave, do it all yourself.
Of course, if you help me get to Mexico,
then maybe I'll help you.
Joseph Lee, I expect that someday
you'll be president of the Bank of Omaha.
But right now you're going down there
and do as I tell you.
Or I'll skin your black carcass.
Cet my rifle. Co on.
Over there!
All right, let's go!
Scalphunters.
Collect a $25 bounty on Indian scalps.
Men, women and children. Like jackals.
Territory government pays it.
Dirtiest, rottenest trade
ever turned a dollar.
- Let's go.
- Where are we going, sir?
After 'em.
After 'em?
How the hell do you think I'm going to
get my furs back if I don't go after 'em?
Mr Bass, I do not intend to put up with
any more of this walking.
Now, either you slow down
and talk to me,
or I'll just have to pull you off that horse
and knock you on your high-priced pants.
Are you deaf as well as dumb, Mr Bass?
Mr Bass, you're threatening my temper.
Mr Bass!
Mr Bass.
Sir, why are you so bound and determined
to catch up with those murdering people?
Haven't you got anything else to do?
I just don't say something, then not do it.
I am completely
and absolutely exhausted. Empty.
- I've got to have something to eat.
- You ate yesterday.
Mr Bass, I have been trained in the habit
of eating each and every individual day.
That proves you ain't a Comanche.
Comanche would keep going till he died.
- I'm so hungry I could eat a frog or snake.
- Comanches do. Regular.
- But I'm not a Comanche.
- Aha!
Oh, Mr Bass.
You see that?
Sego lily. Just like an onion.
Finest thing you ever saw.
You see this?
Sagebrush.
Crows where nothing else will.
You make Indian tea out of the leaves,
and it makes a passable fodder for stock.
Look around you, Joseph Lee.
All natural creation.
Maguey. Makes a fine soap
for washing down a squaw.
Brings the bloom of sunrise to her skin.
Watch this.
A needle and thread. For sewing things.
Here we are, Joseph Lee,
in the Carden of Eden.
Just like Adam and Eve.
Chokecherries. They make a fine pudding.
You like pudding?
Joseph Lee, let's eat.
Co get 'em, Joseph Lee. I'm hungry.
I guess a slave like you got fed
pretty good in that big house kitchen.
Sleeping in a bed every night.
Maybe you should have stayed
where you was.
Vir libre quam in servitude.
"Better beans in freedom
than cake in slavery. "
Aesop. And he was a slave himself
back in the Creek times.
Trouble with you is
you read too many books.
You call it right when a man's a slave?
Owned, worked, beat all the time?
Natural state of affairs, Joseph Lee.
Black man started
being a slave in the Bible.
If Cod didn't want it that way, Cod
wouldn't have done it. Consult your Bible.
Cod didn't invent slavery.
The Egyptians did.
Sold all the children of Israel.
That ain't the way I read Scripture.
- What about Julius Caesar?
- Who?
Julius Caesar. He was an Italian. He made
slaves out of all you Englishmen.
Julius Caesar made slaves
of every kind of white man.
Put chains on 'em, dragged 'em
back to Rome and fed 'em to the lions.
Africans like me, we didn't care
that much for Julius Caesar.
Never heard of him.
That's cos you don't know how to read.
- I could bust you in the jaw.
- Wouldn't change anything.
And it wouldn't change you into
a white man. Cet that through your head.
Let's see you write your name.
Let's see you feed yourself, Julius Caesar.
You wait here, Joseph Lee.
I'm going to take a look around.
- Mr Bass!
- Shh!
Co down there and those people
will just kill the literal hell outta you.
Now, don't you move.
Mr Bass.
Shh.
Howie! How many times I gotta tell you?
Cet that sack of hair off my wagon.
Now, Kate, honey,
them scalps is worth $25 apiece.
That don't mean we gotta sleep with 'em.
- That little old smell bother you?
- That ain't all that's bothering me.
Kate. Kate.
- Morning, Miss Kate.
- Morning, Mr Howie.
Shut up.
Co get some clothes on. I don't want
these men getting horny notions.
Stop talking like a preacher.
If I had half the boots been under my bed,
I could outfit the US Cavalry.
- Hush and get back inside that wagon.
- I'm sick of that damn wagon.
Washing with no bathtub,
getting rats in my hair.
- I'm living like a squaw.
- Kate, honey.
Look at my skin. It's all dried up.
Soon I'm gonna look like an old prune.
- I like prunes.
- Howie, I'm warning you.
If you don't find someplace I can live
decent, you'll be sleeping with your horse.
Kate, honey. It's gonna be all right.
And stop chewing that damn tobacco!
You ever kiss anybody chewed tobacco?
Ain't she darling? Now you get
those horses hitched and let's move!
Move!
Damn.
Now, Kate, honey.
Don't get your pretty little
dooly-dooly all fussed up.
We was gonna have a fancy house.
With servants.
At last I was gonna live like a lady.
I should've stayed where I was.
You know, I knew a lady one time.
Chewed snuff. A redhead.
She'd stand on a piano and sing songs.
Damn.
Jim Howie, you got as much feelings
as a bald-headed hog.
Oh, Kate, honey.
There's no cause to talk that way.
I'm gonna get you these things. I told you.
Oh...
Centlemen. Am I glad to see you.
I have been chased and run over
every rock pile for the past 50 miles.
I saw your wagons, and I knew right there
my trials and tribulations were over.
- Anybody with you?
- Nobody, sir. Nobody at all.
- What's your name, son?
- Black Feather, sir.
I was adopted into the Wolf tribe
of the Comanche nation.
The Kiowas set up a terrible slaughter
on us three days ago. I escaped.
I'll just travel along with you gentlemen
till I get back to my tribe.
- What'll he sell for, Jed?
- Oh, about 1,000.
1500 on the Calveston block,
if he ain't lame or got belly worms.
Throw a rope on him.
- Let's move out!
- Hey! Hey!
Wait! Wait a minute! Wait a minute!
Stop! Wait!
I started out in life
a prosperous, good-looking trapper.
And now, by Cod,
I ain't even got a slave no more.
- Whoa!
- Hey, hold on.
- Cet up there, boy. Come on.
- No, sir.
- I said get up there. Right now.
- No, sir.
What the hell's going on down here?
Camp meeting?
I'm not gonna be worth anything
like this. Ruined on my feet.
- Drag him!
- Sir!
I'd be worth much more to you if you let
me ride. Besides, I'm slowing you down.
- Holding you back.
- That's the first good sense I heard today.
You hush up and read your stargazing
book and let me run my business.
Then why don't you run it
like you knew what you was doing?
Look at that. Ain't she pretty?
All right, let him ride. Move it out!
Thank you, sir.
Not now, Julius Caesar.
Heading for church, sonny?
No, sir, Mr Howie.
I was just, um... making a botanical study,
you might say.
You see that? Sagebrush.
Crows where nothing else will.
Make Indian tea from the leaves,
and it makes a passable fodder for stock.
Look around you, Mr Howie.
All natural creation! Here we are in the
Carden of Eden. Just like Adam and Eve.
- Cet that water the hell back up there.
- Yes, sir, Mr Howie. Yes, sir.
- Beans, beans, beans. I'll look like beans.
- Nothing wrong with beans, honey.
I like beans.
What I wouldn't give for a decent meal.
On a white linen tablecloth,
all fixed up nice.
I listen to you, Jim Howie, and I end up
bouncing over every rock in creation.
My hair's all snarled up like a dish mop.
When we gonna start living
in some kinda style?
When the hell we ever
gonna get to Mexico?
Miss Kate.
You see that? Maguey.
Did you know that that makes
a fine soap for a lady's care?
Brings the bloom of sunrise to her skin.
Used in the ancient times
by the Queen of Sheba
to restore the natural oils
to her beautiful blonde hair.
- You mean that old common cactus?
- Yes, Miss Kate.
Botanical name Vir pluribus undulatum.
Known to the Comanches as maguey.
Really? You mean...
Yes, Miss Kate.
You sure this won't fade out my natural
colour and turn it into somethin' horsey?
Oh, no, Miss Kate. On the contrary.
Did I hear you say
you were going to Mexico?
Cot to. All the law in the country's
looking for me and Jim Howie.
Oh, Mexico's a wonderful country,
Miss Kate. The haciendas and all that.
- You been to Mexico?
- Uh, no, ma'am.
But I speak the language. Buenos dias,
buenas noches, muchas gracias.
Why, you'll be right in the most
high-toned society, Miss Kate. A lady.
First thing I'm gonna get rid of this busted
corset and buy me some fancy clothes.
You'll need quality trained servants. Takes
proper service to put on the right style.
Oh?
You mean like you?
I'd be honoured to serve you, Miss Kate.
Jim Howie's dead set on selling you
on the Calveston block.
No way around that.
Jim Howie don't always do
everything he sets his mind to.
You have a very interesting
texture to your hair.
Fine like gossamer. Like Helen of Troy.
Well, he fixed it pretty fancy, huh?
I wonder what he's after.
Mighty fine, boy.
Sego lily, Mr Howie. Just like an onion.
Finest thing you ever saw.
- What the hell are you after?
- After, Mr Howie? After?
He just likes to serve quality folk.
Quality folk!
Coddamn.
I don't wanna hear
that mushmouth, honey.
I got a rope burn on my neck where they
tried to hang me one time in Sacramento.
And the first time I met you
was in Ma Hogan's tent, remember?
And you weren't exactly sewing canvas.
- You hush your mouth now, Howie.
- Quality folk!
And I never worked no tent.
Dammit, can't you say
I'm pretty or somethin'?
You're the prettiest woman that ever
wore garters and crossed her legs.
Howie, stop chewing that tobacco.
Come on, honey. Let's dance.
You look mighty elegant, Miss Kate.
Bailemos, compadre.
Come on, Joseph Lee. Fight him.
- Co on, boy. Let's see you fight.
- Punch him again.
Come on, boy.
You can fight him, boy.
Move in on him. Bust him one.
Come on, boy.
Look out, Yuma, he'll hurt you!
Come on, Julius Caesar. Fight him.
- Cet up, boy.
- Hit him again. Hit him!
The old daddy wolf does the cutting here.
You don't wanna damage
our $1500 property.
You go soak your head, boy.
Cimme back my feathers.
Crab your partner!
Julius Caesar, you're a hell of
a dancing man, but you sure can't fight.
See that guard over there by the horses?
Co over there and give him
some of that fancy talk.
I'll sneak up and bust him one.
Then we'll load up my furs and get out.
The both of us.
Damn you, Lee, aren't you listening?
- I'm not sure if I am or not, Mr Bass.
- What?
I like you, Mr Bass.
You treated me decent.
And you're a religious man.
Know all about Ham, the black man
in the Bible. Adam and Eve.
- What the hell are you talking about?
- These people are going to Mexico.
You mean... you mean you're
going to stay with these heathens?
Well, you see, Mr Bass...
Mr Bass, you'd better consult Mr Howie.
He owns me now.
- Why, damn your black hide, I traded...
- Shh!
Oh, Mr Bass. Well, then, you'll understand.
A slave has no choice of masters.
Just goes to the highest bidder.
Mr Howie's bidding Mexico.
Fine country, Mexico. I think I'll like it.
No slavery there.
I oughta kill you...
I'll show him.
That damned ungrateful black Comanche.
You stay here and be quiet.
And stop eating that tree.
Unless you're gonna double-cross me too.
Co get Yancy some food.
All right, I've got you.
Easy does it. There you go.
Whoa, boy.
Easy, boy. Easy.
Shh!
Hey, Yan...
Hey, Yancy!
Howie!
Howie!
Come on, jughead.
This is no time to quit on me.
- All right, what was it?
- A renegade Apache.
Joe Bass, you socialise with these people,
you're gonna get yourself scalped...
Miss Kate.
The night air's chill.
You need a wrap.
? In our lovely Deseret
? Where the saints of Cod have met
? Tea and coffee and tobacco we despise
? We've no liquor, yet we eat
? Just a very little meat
? We are seeking to be
great and good and wise
- ? We should not forget to pray
- Please, Kate.
- ? Night and morning every day
- Will you stop singing Mormon songs?
Cet out of that bed, you lazy bum.
It's Sunday morning.
? And we always be polite
? And treat everybody right
Now, Kate, you ain't even a Mormon.
So will you shut up?
? Hark, hark, hark, 'tis angels' voices
Anything funny?
Cet me some water, boy.
Yes, sir.
Don't reach for nothing, mister.
Walk up here, mister,
or I'll kill you where you stand.
Easy.
I knew it. It's the law.
No, ma'am.
I mean, I hope not, Miss Kate.
That's close enough. Take your hat off.
Now reach up and scratch your ear.
"Scratch your...?"
You want to keep that ear, turn that
packhorse loose and get on your way.
- Them beaver skins is mine.
- Yours?
I risked my life for them pelts.
I fought me a dozen Kiowas.
You slaughtered 'em,
you scalphunting bastard.
Now, hold on.
That's no cause to dry-gulch a man.
Steal his furs. Wreck his water barrel.
You know, that ain't fair.
Cut loose that packhorse!
I ain't gonna kill you, but I ought to.
Now go on back there and keep moving.
Walk!
You crook!
Let's get outta here!
That bushwhacking half-breed.
We'll give him his furs back.
Dead. Let's move it out.
Frank!
Cet Yuma and flank that half-breed.
Hold it here.
Keep that first wagon moving.
Oh, Mr Bass. Those furs aren't worth it.
- What did you say, boy?
- Nothing, Mr Howie. Nothing.
Hey, bushwhacker.
Set your gun down.
- Howie, we gotta...
- Will you shut up, Kate?
Looking for me, scalphunter?
Lay that gun down.
Damn. Frank's got him!
There he is! Come on, get him.
Renegade Apache.
Renegade Apache, my ass!
Hey, Howie!
Jim!
Clear them rocks away.
Hey, mister!
Cut loose that packhorse and furs.
Move that wagon or I'll roll
half this mountain down on you.
Whoa! Hold on, friend.
You've got me.
Kate, get off that wagon.
- Howie, be careful.
- Now, you, Kate, hush up.
All right, move that wagon on down.
All right. Hold on, we're going.
OK, boy. Cimme a hand.
Mount your horses.
Cet in that wagon. Cit.
- Virgo's passed Jupiter in the third phase.
- What?
Sagittarius and Cassiopeia
are in the ascendancy.
That's right. How'd you know that?
Miss Kate, when is Mr Howie's birthday?
He's a Leo. July 27th.
July 27th. I was afraid of that.
You sure Virgo is passing Jupiter?
Mr Howie is a strong, powerful man.
A Leo. A natural leader, right?
Did you know that Napoleon Bonaparte
was a Leo too, Miss Kate?
The same birthday as Mr Howie.
And when he met Waterloo...
Destroyed. Virgo had passed Jupiter
in the third phase.
That's gonna happen now.
Did you really study
all about reading the stars?
Well, as far back as
the, um, Egyptian Pharaohs.
And the Hebrew prophets. Down through
Persia, Babylon and Mesopotamia.
Shalom, abi gezunt, aleph, beth, gimel.
Tell me, how's it gonna be for Virgo?
I'm a Virgo.
Pythagoras.
I see a cloud. A threatening cloud.
Travelling. Travelling.
- Miss Kate, I hate to tell you this...
- Tell me, tell me.
Something evil following us.
Has been following us for days.
Something covered with, um... hair.
The Indian scalps.
That packhorse with those damn fur pelts.
Right! An evil combination.
The spirit of the dead Kiowas...
and the zodiac configuration of the stars.
What do you mean?
Look.
Jupiter moving in on Pluto.
Disaster. Death. A man killed.
- Mr Howie.
- Jim?
Listen, I've read the stars.
I didn't see all that happening.
- But where did you look?
- Right here. Page...
Oh, Miss Kate!
I mean here. Pisces, Libra, Capricorn.
And here. Those furs...
and that man out there...
are the Scorpio satanic configuration
of death for Jim Howie.
And the stars never lie.
But Howie don't believe in all...
He don't believe in anything.
But we do.
And we know it's true.
Don't we?
Then it's up to us.
You.
Me? How?
Cut loose that packhorse.
Cet rid of those evil furs.
Tonight.
I'll do it.
Damn, that's good and vile.
You think I'm going to give up
on those people, don't you?
Well, I ain't.
You got any ideas
about what we ought to do next?
Hell, you never have no ideas
about nothing.
Hey, get outta there!
You damn jughead. That's locoweed.
You'll run around like a coyote with his
guts hanging out. Let's see your mouth.
Open it up. Come on. Open it up.
If you ate any of that stuff,
we're both done for.
You'll be crazy in the head
and I'll be walking.
How do you feel?
Well, I might as well find out.
If you throw me
I'll know you had a bellyful.
Whoa, now. Whoa. Easy.
Well, I guess you're all right.
Now, will you bend down
and pick up my rifle? I'm tired.
By Cod, you have got an idea.
Cet those other horses in here.
- Bring 'em up!
- Cet 'em all in.
Whoa. Whoa!
What the...?
Qu pasa con estos caballos?
Howie! Howie!
What the hell is wrong with them horses?
Cet 'em out of the water!
Don't look at me like that.
It was your idea.
Dirty rotten Comanche trick!
- You gonna keep those skins?
- If I have to pack 'em on your back.
You're gonna have us
crawling on our bellies.
You don't shut up, I'm gonna kick your
backside right up to your shoulder blades.
Can I say something, Mr Howie?
Wouldn't it make more sense
just to give the man his furs back?
Well, I'll be damned.
Now I've heard everything.
What in hell is this world coming to?
If you give that man his furs back,
he'll let you alone.
I know him, Mr Howie.
- You what?
- What?
I was with the Indians
when they took his furs from him.
All he wants is what's his.
Well, well, well, well.
I'm a curly-haired, blue-eyed angel.
- And you're in with him.
- No, sir.
But I know him, Mr Howie. Let me go
talk to him. Maybe he'll listen to me.
Howie, listen to him.
Just how long you think you're gonna
stay alive? Look at your men.
Well?
Is that the way you want it?
Jed?
Well, Yancy?
I just want to get to Mexico. Alive.
It makes sense.
Four men we rode with... dead.
Loco'd our horses.
And you want me to give him the furs?
I don't care!
Hell, give him everything! Co ahead.
And I hope he blows your head off.
Hey! You want to give him
my whiskey, too?
Catch more flies with honey
than with vinegar, Mr Howie.
Jim Howie's boys...
are gonna quit.
Split the guts of five
United States marshals.
Took half the banks of Kansas.
Took a whole town full of Chink miners.
And jumped more Indians
than the United States Cavalry.
And Jim Howie's boys are gonna quit.
For one man.
For one man.
Mr Bass!
Mr Bass, where are you?
Mr Bass. Speak to me.
Damn you, Joe Bass.
I wonder why I go to all this trouble.
Cetting myself abused
by that bloodthirsty Jim Howie.
And all for you and your measly furs,
you ill-mannered, unlettered oaf.
Mr Bass, speak up!
I know you're out there, sneaking around.
Who do you think you are? Daniel Boone?
What's the matter, Julius Caesar?
Cet lost again?
Mr Bass, please. You ruin a man's
mortal insides when you do that.
What are you here for?
To help them people kill me?
They don't want to kill you any more.
They want you to stop killing them.
They'll leave your furs and go.
You lying, split-tongue African Comanche.
You think I'd trust anything you say?
I'd take the word of that scalphunter
before I'd believe you.
I'm telling the truth.
They've had enough.
Don't you lie to me no more.
I'll get my furs.
And you and them people
will be for the vultures.
What you got there?
What you got there?
Cood drinking whiskey.
Mr Howie's own stock.
Thought you could maybe
use a drink about now.
You sure made your way with
those people. You got their whiskey.
You're doing their bushwhacking for 'em.
Sashaying along with that fancy woman.
Throw you in the pigpen and you'd
come out vice president of the hogs.
If Cod ever made better inventions than
a pretty woman or a bottle of whiskey,
I ain't heard of it.
Mr Bass.
Could I have a drink of that?
If I was to give you a drink of this whiskey,
it'd be like pouring it out on the sand.
Whiskey's a man's drink. And you
ain't no man. You ain't no part of a man.
You're a mealy-mouthed, shufflebutt slave
and you've picked a master.
So don't go asking
to take a drink with a man.
You think mighty well of yourself,
don't you, Joe Bass?
You know how long you would last
as a coloured man?
About one minute.
The trouble with all your fighting, Joe
Bass, is you don't know when you've won.
Co ahead. Kill us all.
Lee.
Tell 'em to move out and leave my furs.
Joseph Lee.
Come back here.
Tell 'em from here.
Mr Howie!
Move out.
That's everybody.
Don't seem right,
that man doing an honest thing.
They just want to be rid of you.
Where are you going, Julius Caesar?
With them. Where I aim to.
- To Mexico.
- Wait a minute.
Walk on down there ahead of me.
Hold it there.
Tie her up.
Co on. Scat.
This one won't scalp any more Indians.
Look out!
I busted his skull! I've done it!
The old daddy wolf, he done it. He done it.
Mr Howie.
OK.
- No.
- You killed my men,
and loco'd my horses.
And now... I gotta punish you.
I'm gonna take your hair, and peel
your pretty white hide one inch at a time.
Quit talking, you ugly bastard, and do it.
I'm going to hear you cry,
and I'm going to hear you beg.
- No, Mr Howie.
- Cet off of me.
- You don't have to kill him, Mr Howie.
- Boy, I'm gonna kill you too.
Now, my boy, you...
you put that knife down.
Cut him, Lee. Cut him!
Now, you listen to me.
Now, listen to me, my boy.
I won't lift his hair.
I won't sell you.
And I'll let you go on with me.
To Mexico.
- Now, drop that knife, boy.
- Don't listen to him.
You really don't want to kill a man.
Do you?
I mean, do you?
Now you're using your head, boy.
Lee!
Cet it, Lee!
Yowee!
Joseph Lee, you did it!
By Cod and by thunder, you did it!
I couldn't be more proud
if you was my own grandpa.
Joseph Lee, you sure deserve that drink.
Now untie me.
Ahh.
He's sure taking his own sweet time.
- You worrying about Jim Howie?
- Stick him, he bleeds like anybody else.
That may be true, only he's the one
gonna be doing all the sticking.
- Why isn't he back here by now?
- You think he'd aim at a man, then miss?
One man, no.
But there are two back there.
Joe Bass, you're looking at a rich man.
I might just hire you and your horse
to take me to Mexico.
Isn't there anything
you want to say to me?
Like "Thank you, Mr Lee"?
- Co to hell.
- Don't you mean "Co to hell, Mr Lee"?
Oh, quit acting like a damn fool.
First time you had guts enough to fight,
you puff around like a pregnant squaw.
Now untie me.
What the hell are you doing, Lee?
Damn you, Lee, that's my horse.
Cet off him.
Damn your hide, Lee. What are you up to?
Sic transit gloria mundi.
"To the victor belong the spoils. "
Now, wait a minute, Joseph Lee.
Now, just a minute.
Let's you and I palaver.
We've had some differences, but you
wouldn't leave a man alone in the desert.
All tied up, with the crawling snakes.
And the bloodthirsty buzzards.
And the hungry coyotes.
You wouldn't do that.
Leave me to die, all alone. Would you?
You're Joe Bass. You can move
mountains. You'll be all right.
Cet off my horse, you son of a bitch!
You know something, Joe Bass?
You are the most stubborn, love-yourself
man that ever walked Cod's creation.
And somebody just naturally ought to bust
some sense into your hard-boned head.
Somebody ought to just naturally bust
some sense into my hard-boned head?
You wanna try?
Hey, you jughead! Come back here.
Yeah. I wanna try.
All right, Joseph Lee. Cet 'em up.
Protect yourself. Cet your hands higher.
Ow!
Ow!
Indian fighting. Like it?
Let me help you.
Argh! Aaargh!
Can't see, can you?
Aaargh!
Aaaargh!
That ain't fair!
I'm gonna bust you on the jaw for that.
"See the superiority
of the white-skinned race. "
"You're a mealy-mouthed,
shufflebutt slave. "
Whoa! Whoa!
Damn you, Jim Howie. What the hell was
so important about a bunch of lousy furs?
Kate.
Over there.
Time.
Wait a minute. I hear something.
Wait a minute. I really do hear something.
What the hell. They're only men.
Indian man.
I don't know how many wives
you got now,
but you're gonna have the damnedest
white squaw in the Kiowa nation.
You black Comanche!
Where are you?
Two Crows! Ain't you dead?
I'm sure glad to see you, Two Crows.
Hey, wait a minute. Them's my furs.
Cood hunting, Joe Bass.
Hey, wait a minute!
Wait a minute. Wait. Hold it.
You dirty redskins!
You know something?
There's two cases of whiskey
on that wagon.
I'd say by tonight
there's going to be a lot of drunk Indians.