Thunderhead - Son of Flicka (1945) Movie Script

Flicka. Where are you?
There you are. What are you doing out here?
Don't you know there's a storm coming up?
You should be back at the barn.
What's the matter, Flicka?
Don't you know me? It's Ken.
Come on, girl. Come on.
A colt! Flicka, you've had your colt.
But it's white. Itjust can't be white.
Oh, I'm sorry, Flicka. I didn't mean it.
It's a beautiful colt. Honest it is.
Hello, fella.
Come on. Come on.
Oh, I'm not going to hurt you.
Come on. Here.
I'd better get both of you out of here
before this storm breaks.
Ho, girl.
Come on, fella.
He'll follow, Flicka.
Come on, boy. Hurry up.
Hey, come on.
All right. If you want to be so stubborn.
Come on. Come on, that's it.
Come on. Hurry up.
Come on.
Come on. Oh, you're not even trying to help.
Come on.
Come on, go up.
Flicka, you go down and stay with him.
I'll be right back. Go on.
Go on.
Your father and mother
ain't come home from town yet.
- Gus!
- Ja?
- Gus.
- What's the matter, Kenny?
- Flicka's had her colt.
- Good.
No, it isn't. She's in the gorge near the lake
and the colt's stuck in the wash.
Why didn't you say so?
Come on, we'll saddle a couple of horses.
If we don't go before the storm,
anything can happen.
Don't worry. They've been
borning colts on the range long time now.
- Here. Put this on.
- I haven't got time.
Take time. Your father skin me good
if you catch pneumonia again.
- I'm not gonna catch anything.
- Listen.
- Rain.
- Ja.
That gully will be a river.
The colt will drown. Come on.
They're over here, Gus.
We're coming, Flicka.
It's all right, Flicka. We'll get him out.
- A white one.
- Just don't stand there. Come on.
Wait, Kenny.
Mind out, Gus. You'll choke him. I'll help you.
Come on. Come on, here.
Ain't never saw such a stubborn little devil.
He's not stubborn.
He's just scared and high-spirited.
- That's the way.
- Go on, Flicka.
Go on.
- How is he, Gus? How's my colt?
- He's over there.
Morning, Kenny.
Morning. Hi, sonny.
- Little fella had a pretty hard night.
- He's beautiful, isn't he?
I wouldn't go so far to say that.
But your father will like him, I bet.
He's got to. So I'll be able to train him,
and enter him in the races myself.
Races? Do you think
maybe the little fellow can run?
Sure he can run. He'll be
the greatest racehorse in the world.
I'll enter him at Santa Anita,
Hialeah and the Kentucky Derby.
- I bet he wins every one of them.
- Got it all figured out, ain't ya?
I hope you're right.
We could use some good luck around here.
- Ken!
- That sounds like my Hildy.
- Your breakfast is ready.
- Thank you.
You're welcome.
- Gus, did you tell Dad about the colt?
- Why, no, Kenny. You asked me not to.
Thanks, Gus.
Why don't you want anyone to know?
Because, Hildy, it's a very special colt,
and I want to surprise Dad.
- Well, I won't tell him, Ken.
- Good.
Oh, Ken.
- Are you gonna surprise your dad now?
- Shh!
Hildy, can't you ever
mind your own business?
Oh, I can. But it isn't much fun.
Saddle Buck, Tim. Then we'll go.
- Dad.
- Good morning, young fella.
Good morning.
- Going in to breakfast?
- Yes.
Dad, what would you do
if you had all the money you wanted?
- All the money I want?
- All you want.
Well, now, let's see.
I guess I'd take your mother to New York
and buy her a fur coat and a diamond ring.
Women like pretty things, you know.
Then we'd take a cruise to South America,
- see what kind of horses they have there.
- Go on. Then what would you do?
Well, if you really want to know,
I'd buy some more brood mares.
I'd build fences around the place,
fix it up like I had planned.
Make it the finest ranch in the West.
Say, what's this all about, anyway?
I've got an idea
that's going to make us a lot of money.
You have? Well, fine.
That's Charley Sargent.
- Hello, Charley. How are you?
- How are you, Rob?
- Hello, Major.
- Glad to see you, McLaughlin.
- Hello, young man.
- Come in. Come in.
How's the road? Storm do much damage?
- Only got stuck once.
- Morning, Charley.
- Major Harris. Glad to see you.
- Thank you.
- What are you doing here?
- I'm on a buying tour.
- I came to see if you had any horses to sell.
- You got the cream of the crop last time.
- Won't you join us for breakfast?
- No, thanks.
- Wouldn't think of it.
- Not much!
Charley can smell home cooking
20 miles away.
- You're not fooling.
- Come on.
Ken, bring down that chair.
Major, will you sit there?
- And Charley there, please?
- Thank you.
- Rob, will you pour the orange juice?
- Glasses, Ken.
McLaughlin, your horses
were the talk of the fort.
They ought to be. Whoever heard of selling
hunters and polo ponies for $200 a head?
- Standard army prices.
- I wouldn't have taken a loss like that.
But then, I'm not an old West Point man.
You're sore because your racers
aren't good enough for the army.
I'll have you know I've got the finest horses
this side of the Mississippi.
- Now, take Appalachian, for instance.
- Not Appalachian again.
And why not? There's 60 generations
of racers behind him.
- And every one of his colts is a winner.
- That's why I like you. You're so modest.
My horse is the greatest stallion
in the country.
- Greater than the Albino?
- The Albino? Well...
- Now, there was a horse.
- Who did he belong to?
Nobody. He drifted over here from Montana.
Drove the ranchers crazy.
He was wild - wild as they come.
Most beautiful stallion I ever saw.
They never found out where he lived.
But every summer for five or six years,
he used to come out of the hills and raid our
herds while they were grazing in the pastures.
He'd drive off as many mares
as he could round up.
The ranchers'losses
were getting pretty heavy.
He was very particular, too.
He selected only the best mares.
Any stallion that tried to stop him
was in for a fight.
He killed several of the finest horses
in this country.
He was a robber baron
if there ever was one. King of them all.
We were all hunting for him. Could never
get close enough to lay a rope on him.
- Whatever became of him?
- Hasn't been seen for four or five years.
He sounds more like a legend
than a real horse.
He was real enough.
He got into Rob's herd once.
Ken's mare Flicka was sired by him.
Mrs McLaughlin.
Here are the eggs you wanted.
- Thank you.
- You're welcome.
- Ken. Do they know about the surprise yet?
- Hildy, I told you.
- I didn't say anything about the colt.
- Colt? What colt?
- I wanted to tell you. Flicka's had a foal.
- She has?
- Oh, wonderful.
- It's at the barn.
- Let's go see it.
- Come along.
- It'll be a colt Mr Sargent could be proud of.
- I'll get him out so you can have a good look.
Gus! Gus.
Help me get the colt out.
Dad wants to see him.
You stay back, Hildy.
This colt'll either be black or sorrel.
It's by Banner, and he always sires true.
Sounds as if Ken's having a little trouble.
Come on, come on, come on, come on.
Come on. Come on.
- Don't be so stubborn.
- Can't you handle him?
Rob, he's white.
Well, well. So Banner always sires true.
- He always has.
- Banner isn't the horse Rob thinks he is.
- Now, if that had been Appalachian...
- Oh, you and your Appalachian.
I just can't understand it. A white colt.
He's just as good as any other.
- Of course he is.
- Whoa there!
He's a goblin, that's what he is!
He looks just like a goblin!
You keep out of this.
You hear me? You keep out of it.
- Ken, Ken.
- He's not a goblin. He's a racehorse.
- A racehorse?
- By Banner out of Flicka?
It takes a racer to sire a racer, Ken.
- He was sired by a racer.
- But Banner isn't a racer, Ken.
I know.
Just a minute, young man.
You mean Banner's not his father?
- No, sir, he isn't.
- Well, then, who did sire this colt?
- Appalachian.
- Appalachian?
- Mr Sargent's stallion?
- Yes.
Thatjugheaded colt by Appalachian?
I don't believe it.
- But it's so. Honest it is.
- Now whose horse doesn't sire true?
- What is this all about?
- Well, Mom, I've always wanted a racer.
Mr Sargent said
how wonderful Appalachian was,
so I took Flicka to his ranch
and turned her loose in the pasture.
- You took her over to my ranch?
- Yes, sir.
Don't you know what it costs to have
a colt sired by a famous stallion?
- How do you expect to pay?
- Out of my winnings.
Mr Sargent said
that Appalachian's colts always win.
- Guess he's got you there.
- You asked for it.
Me and my big mouth.
OK, son. Just forget about the money.
You don't owe me a cent.
If you want to register the colt,
I'll give you a certificate.
Gosh, thanks, Mr Sargent.
I can't understand how come that colt's
pure white, when my stallion's coal black.
Maybe he takes after his grandfather,
through Flicka.
That's it. He's a throwback.
A throwback to the Albino.
If he inherits any traits of that wild devil,
you'll have a tough time with him.
- Goblin sure is loco, isn't he?
- No, he's not loco. He's high-spirited.
Come on, Ken.
- I tell you, they don't brand racehorses.
- He has to have some identifying mark.
- But I've already notched his hoof.
- We'll put it under his mane. It won't show.
Come on, Gus. Bring the distemper shot.
- Has Goblin got distemper?
- Of course not.
We give him the shot so he won't get it.
- Well, that's the last one.
- Good. Let him up.
It's all over, boy. Come along.
- You can turn them all out now, Ken.
- OK.
Cut Flicka and her colt out, Gus.
Ken'll want to ride Flicka.
- Thanks, Jack. We'll return the favour.
- OK, Rob. I'm glad to have helped.
You ready to take them out again?
You are, huh? Well, that's fine.
Take good care of the herd.
- Banner! Come on, Banner!
- They're all yours. Take them away.
Hello, there.
What's the matter, girl?
You want to go too, don't you, girl?
All right. You can go.
Hey, aren't you going with your mama?
Are you gonna be stubborn again?
Come on. Get out of here. Go on.
So long, Flicka. Goodbye, Goblin.
See you next spring.
Good boy, Ken.
It was nice of you to let Flicka and her colt go.
Well, I don't exactly need her. Anyway, she
has to take Goblin out to winter on the range.
- Don't worry about him. He's tough.
- I know, Dad. But he isn't like other colts.
I'll say he isn't. All the colts I've ever seen
act like they're tied to their mothers.
They follow the mares. That young fellow
will want to go off on his own.
He'll investigate everything for himself.
Won't make any difference
whether it's a coyote or a porcupine.
When the storms come down from the hills,
and the herd takes shelter in a deep canyon,
that little fool horse will want to stick
his nose right in the wind and fight back.
Banner won't stand for any nonsense.
Goblin may be the grandson
of the great Albino,
but to Banner he'll be just another colt.
Ken! Here they come!
Dad! They're here.
Open the gate. Come on, Nell.
Do you want to see what we've got?
- Look at Goblin run.
- He's practically flying.
- What kind of watch is that?
- A stopwatch.
- Where'd you get it?
- I'm timing Goblin.
I bought it with my own money.
Look at the size of the Goblin.
Look out! Here they come!
You'd better look out too.
- Close the gate, Ken.
- Yes, Dad. Hi, Gus.
- What do you think of your horse now?
- Great. How far is it to the top of that knoll?
- A couple of hundred yards.
- He made it in almost nothing flat.
In 15 seconds.
Say, Tim. Cut out the Goblin and put him
in that other corral, will you? Thank you.
- Hey, boss.
- Hello, Gus.
Boss, Taggert and Sky High
and Brownie's missing.
- They're missing?
- Rob, they're your prize mares.
- Maybe wolves got them.
- Cougars.
- If they did, we would have found signs.
- What could have happened to them?
They probably strayed.
We'll go and find them.
It's no use. Tim and me
looked everywhere for them.
- You sure?
- Ja, boss.
- Well, I guess that settles it.
- Yep. That settles it.
Thanks, Gus.
Come on, Hildy.
The herd's so small
we can't afford to lose those mares.
- We'll have to buy some others.
- They're so expensive.
And with Ken's schooling,
and Gus and Tim to pay, and the taxes.
Well, we'll figure it out some way.
Now, don't you start to fret.
Things are going to be all right.
OK, Goblin. You can quit your fooling.
The way things are going around here,
it's about time you and I got to work.
That's the boy.
Come on. Oh, so you're gonna
be that way, huh?
- Bet you miss.
- Stay out of here. You'll get yourself killed.
- By thatjughead?
- Do as I tell you.
I told you you'd miss.
I won't miss next time.
What did I tell you?
Ken, look out!
Get down.
Ho, doggone you.
Mrs McLaughlin!
Mrs McLaughlin!
Come on. Ho!
- See? What did I tell you?
- Rob, stop him!
Throw him down, Kenny. Throw him!
Stay with him, son.
- How do you like that?
- Pretty good.
- Let me see you pull that off.
- What's going on here?
Oh, nothing much.
I'm just breaking Goblin, that's all.
- Are you sure it isn't the other way around?
- Of course not.
Why, I've got him
practically eating out of my hand.
Yeah. I can see what you mean.
Yeah. Well, all I need
is just a little more time.
Hello, Goblin.
Here, boy. Look.
Sugar. You're not supposed to have it,
but I know you like it.
There. Good, isn't it?
Yes, sir. You and I are going to get along fine.
If you'll just listen to reason,
you'll be a racehorse before you know it.
Now, take it easy, son.
This isn't going to hurt you.
It's only a halter.
Don't tell me we have to go through
this foolishness again.
You know who's boss, so behave yourself.
Ho! Doggone you, cut it out.
You want me to take this halter shank to you?
Now, Goblin, I'm trying to be patient.
Stop it!
Come back here, you crazy bronc.
Come back here!
OK, be like your grandfather. See if I care.
Of all the mean-tempered,
stubborn, good-for-nothing idiots!
Losing your temper's
no way to train a horse.
- I'm not gonna train him.
- Wait a minute.
You started this.
You gotta see it through.
You can't quit
because you're having a little trouble.
It isn't little. I can't teach Goblin anything.
And what's more, I think he hates me.
If he did he wouldn't let you
in the corral with him.
No horse is going to be broken without
a scrap. Every wrangler has to expect that.
I know, Dad. But one minute,
Goblin's as gentle as a kitten,
and just when I think I'm getting somewhere,
he turns outlaw.
Goblin can't make up his mind whether
he wants to be like Flicka or the Albino.
He's fighting himself, like most of us do.
But he's too good a horse to throw away
when a little patience may see him through.
I want you to go find Goblin
and bring him back.
- Yes, sir.
- Just a minute, Ken.
You'd better keep this.
You might use it after all.
Thanks, Dad.
Oh, there you are. In Banner's place.
Think you're quite a horse, don't you?
Better watch out. Here comes Banner.
That'll show you who's boss.
The Albino.
Banner, come back!
- Ready?
- Mm-hm. Sit down.
- Where's Ken?
- Goblin took to the hills. He went after him.
Do you think we should let him
go on with this? Goblin's wild.
He'll be all right. Ken's getting to be
a good hand with horses.
- Broke Flicka, didn't he?
- Goblin isn't like Flicka.
This is no time to discourage him, just
when he's taking an interest in the ranch.
Breaking Goblin's
very apt to make a man of him.
Dad. Dad, the Albino's come back.
He's raiding the herd.
- The Albino?
- The Albino hasn't been around for years.
But it's true. I saw him. He was running
like the wind, right into the herd.
So that's what happened to the mares.
Get Gus and Tim.
Tell them to bring their guns.
Hold it. They came this way, all right.
- He must have gone up through that gorge.
- There's other horses with him.
That's fine. He's probably taken
some more of my mares.
- Dad, Goblin's gone with the Albino.
- Gone with him?
Here are his tracks. I notched his hoof.
If he gets near the mares,
that Albino will cut him to pieces.
Well, come on.
- They turned north.
- Heading for the Buckhorn Range.
Yeah. Come on.
- Any luck?
- Not a sign.
- That Albino has done it again, boss.
- He just can't disappear.
There's a million canyons in this range.
He could be in any one of 'em.
Well, come on. We might as well go home.
Dad, look!
Well, what do you think of that?
Hello, boy. Gosh, am I glad to see you.
Holy smoke!
- Dad, he's hurt. Look at his flank.
- Yimminy. He's cut all up.
- He's been hit by a hoof. A mighty big one.
- He must have had a fight with the Albino.
- Looks like he's been sideswiped.
- Is he all right? It won't stop him running?
I don't know.
He's been pretty badly shaken up.
My guess is he's going to be...
all right.
- What are you doing?
- Don't bother me. I'm busy.
Whatever it is, I'll tell your mother if you
don't tell me. I guess you'd better tell me.
I've got to get him used to the blanket
before I saddle him.
Aw, you can't break a horse.
Stay out of here. Goblin's dangerous.
Anything's liable to happen.
Ho, Goblin.
You're a big boy now, so act your age.
That will scare him, you silly.
Sure it will. But we're going to
fight this thing out, right now.
Now, look here, young man.
Didn't take me long to make him
understand what the blanket's for.
- He didn't understand. He got tired.
- Wait till I put the saddle on him.
Bet you he pulls the snubbing post
up by its roots.
Here, boy.
When I climb aboard you'll see a real fight.
Whoa, Goblin.
For goodness' sake, Goblin,
don't act like an old cow.
Give me some action.
Stop it!
Ken! Look out!
Mrs McLaughlin!
- Goblin, stop it!
- Ken! Watch the fence, Kenny!
Mrs McLaughlin! Look!
Ken! Ken, darling. Are you all right?
- It's broken. It's broken.
- What's broken?
- My stopwatch.
- Oh, Ken. I could spank you.
You don't suppose Ken set this up
in favour of Goblin, do you?
- Take him around once, son. I'll time him.
- OK, Mr Sargent.
- It was nice of you to let Ken use your track.
- I'm as interested in Goblin as he is.
Why not? That's Appalachian's colt
he's riding.
You're telling me.
- Ready, Ken?
- Yes, sir. Ready.
- Go!
- Come on, Goblin! Let's go! Come on!
- Come on! Come on!
- Ken, be careful!
- What that horse needs is a pacemaker.
- He needs more than that.
Put Joe up on Southern Belle.
Joe up on Southern Belle!
- Now you know why mothers get grey.
- That horse is unpredictable.
He doesn't like people to tell him what to do.
It makes him mad.
- Ken says he's just high-spirited.
- Uh-huh.
- Oh, isn't she beautiful?
- She can run, too.
If Goblin can catch her, we'll know he's good.
All set? Let her... go!
Run, Goblin!
Run, Goblin!
I don't know.
- He's catching up! He's catching up!
- Come on, Goblin.
- Come on!
- Ride him, Ken! Ride him!
- Come on!
- Come on, Goblin.
- Ride him, Ken!
- Run, Goblin, run!
- What did he make, Charley?
- 47 seconds. A half-mile in 47 seconds.
- 47?
- Appalachian's colt.
He did it, Kenny.
He can run, can't he, Mr Sargent?
I told you he could run.
You'll enter Goblin
in the Multnomah County races next year.
I'll get you ajockey's licence
so you can ride him.
- Gee.
- Now, just a minute, Charley.
- There's a race just made for that horse.
- You can't depend on him.
- Did you see him run?
- Sure I saw him. But that's not enough.
He's gotta run when you want him to.
He'll be all right. I'll train him.
I'll make a real racer out of him.
Goblin's a racer! Goblin's a racer!
Don't call him Goblin. He isn't a goblin
any more. He needs a new name.
- You name him, Mom.
- Ken, I don't know.
- Go ahead.
- Let's see.
Those thunderheads,
they're like white horses in the sky.
- How about Thunderhead?
- I like that.
That's a fine name for him.
- Hold still.
- It's going to look great.
- I'll have to shorten the sleeves.
- It's swell of you to do this.
Nonsense. But I want you
to promise me something, young man.
- Sure.
- Promise you won't take any foolish chances.
You're not a professional jockey.
- I can ride, Mom. You know that.
- I know. But you will be careful, won't you?
- Put the truck in the barn, Gus.
- OK, boss.
They're here.
You go upstairs, dear. Get your report card.
- I want to talk to your father first. Alone.
- OK, Mom.
- Hello, darling.
- Hello, honey.
- How'd the sale go?
- Pretty good.
Harris took the whole lot.
- That's the end of the thoroughbreds.
- Rob, I'm sorry you had to sell them.
Why? Nobody's interested
in hunters and jumpers these days.
Now we can concentrate on cavalry horses.
Take a look at that, Mrs McLaughlin.
Should be enough
to last us the rest of the year.
We might be able
to buy a couple of brood mares.
Rob, that's wonderful,
but do we have to buy them right now?
Well, we ought to... Why?
- What's on your mind?
- Oh... nothing.
Just a minute, young lady.
What are you up to?
Come on. Out with it!
- Hello, Dad.
- Ken. When did you get here?
- This morning. I took the bus.
- You look snappy in that uniform. Let's see it.
Corporal McLaughlin reporting, sir.
- Corporal. So you got your stripes.
- Yes, sir. And that's not all.
- Oh. A report card.
- Go on. Look at it.
"Mathematics, 92."
"Latin, 94. Composition, 100."
- Aren't you proud?
- Proud? I'm dumbfounded!
This is wonderful, Ken.
Why all this sudden thirst for knowledge?
- Well... Well...
- Go on. Go on, tell him.
Well, Dad, I thought
if I made good in school,
you might lend me the money
to enter the Multnomah County races.
Races? Here we go again.
Mr Sargent said he'd fix it
so I'd be able to ride in the race myself.
- You can't depend on that horse.
- He's all right now. He's just fine.
- He might win.
- He will.
- If he does it'll mean $5,000.
- Just think what we could do with that.
It would help put Ken through college
and you could fix up the ranch.
Nell, I'd like to see that horse run
as much as anybody.
But with incidentals and everything,
it would cost $500.
It's not that $500 would break us, but the way
things are now, I can't afford to take the risk.
- Yes, Dad...
- I'm sorry, son. Maybe next year.
OK, sir. It was just an idea.
Rob, he's been counting on it.
He's worked so hard.
- What's that?
- Just ajockey shirt.
Ajockey shirt?
- "The Goose Bar"?
- I thought Ken might like it.
- What's that you have?
- Oh.
Just some Furness Marble Hoof Lustre. I...
I bought it to shine
Thunderhead's hooves with.
Hoof Lustre.
Jockey shirt.
Guess you got me outnumbered. You win.
- Oh, Rob.
- Dad!
- That does it.
- Ought to. You can see your face in 'em.
Hello, Dad. Thunderhead
looks pretty good, doesn't he?
You don't look so bad yourself.
Check everything?
- Everything.
- I'll have a look. Don't want to do a nosedive.
- I'll be all right.
- Just like riding at Charley Sargent's ranch.
- Jockeys up.
- I guess that means me.
Yup. Jockeys up.
Don't let the crowd bother you,
or the jockeys, either.
- I won't.
- There's not a better horse out there. Or rider.
- Thanks, Dad.
- Good luck, son. We'll be cheering for you.
The horses are coming out
on the track for the sixth race,
the Victory Handicap for three-year-olds,
going one mile.
The purse is $5,000 in added money.
This event was won last year by Iron
Mountain, owned by Mr William Palmer.
The horses are on parade. On the rail
is Tar Cool ridden by Buddy Farnsworth,
Molly R with jockey Connelly is next.
Happy Days is with jockey Clyde Jennings.
Morning Star is number four
with jockey Robert Lloyd.
The milk-white horse is Thunderhead
with owner Ken McLaughlin in the saddle.
There's Ken. Yoo-hoo! Ken!
Storm Warning is number seven,
with jockey Walter Carter.
- What do you think of your son now?
- He looks awfully small down there.
This is no time to start worrying.
He can take care of himself all right.
- Thunderhead looks like a million.
- I'll settle for 5,000.
On the outside is Stepmother,
ridden by jockey Howard Conley.
- Whose is that black?
- That's Fleetway from the Johnson stable.
- He's liable to be a good horse.
- Not as good as Thunderhead, I bet.
Fleetway, the favourite in the race,
is being ridden by Bobby Thomas.
The horses are going into position.
Thunderhead is giving the starter
a bit of trouble.
They're having a difficult time.
Now the horse is settling down. He's quiet.
And Thunderhead is being led into position.
There they go! Thunderhead has refused
to come out of the starting gate.
He's jumping in the air.
Now Thunderhead is going out to the field.
It's Molly R in front by a head.
Swinging Door is second.
Thunderhead is trailing.
Passing the grandstand the first time,
it's Molly R in front by a head.
Fleetway is second,
and Thunderhead is trailing.
Around the first turn.
It's Fleetway taking the lead by one length.
- Molly R is second by a head.
- That's the boy.
Stepmother is fourth by one length.
Morning Star is fifth by a head.
Storm Warning is sixth,
and Thunderhead is trailing far back.
- Into the back stretch...
- Run, you jack rabbit!
Come on, Fleetway! Come on!
- Stepmother is fourth.
- Let him out!
Thunderhead is trailing far back.
Into the back stretch.
Thunderhead is beginning to run.
There goes Thunderhead into contention.
Going down the back stretch.
Come on, son!
Swinging Door is second by a head.
Molly R is third.
Thunderhead is fourth on the outside
by a half-length.
- Come on.
- Stepmother is third.
It's Fleetway in front by a length.
Thunderhead is second.
Molly R is third.
Now it's Fleetway and Thunderhead.
- Come on, Thunder.
- Come on!
Fleetway and Thunderhead,
head and head. Fleetway on the rail.
- Now Thunderhead is taking the lead...
- Stay in there. Stay in there!
You don't see racing like that,
you just dream about it! Come on!
- Stay in there!
- Come on, Thunderhead!
Oh, wait a minute. Something has happened
to Thunderhead. He's stopped.
The field is going past him. It's Fleetway
going across the line to finish the winner!
And Thunderhead is leaping over the fence
into the infield. He's running away.
Doggone you,
you good-for-nothing loco cayuse.
Why did you do it?
Why did you throw that race?
I told you Mom and Dad
were counting on you.
Gus and Tim had money on you.
So did Mr Sargent.
Now you've ruined everything.
Oh, stop it. I don't care if you are sorry.
I'm through. You hear? Good and through.
What's the matter with your leg, boy?
Just keep that leg bandaged till you get him
home, then have your own vet look at him.
He's going to come back next year and win.
He's going to win a lot of races.
- He is going to run again, isn't he, Doc?
- A bowed tendon can never be depended on.
- It won't cripple him.
- He'll be good as a saddle horse.
But he'll never be able to put on
that burst of speed a racehorse needs.
I'm afraid Thunderhead's track days
are over, Ken.
Come and get it.
There it is.
- How is he, Gus?
- Coming along, boss.
- Another month, he should be good as new.
- Oh, that's fine.
Say, uh, Gus.
I was talking to Charley Sargent
at the races the other day.
He tells me he has quite a lot of work
over at his place.
You know...
- What's the matter?
- It's sagging. Hildy's been swinging again.
- Things have been slack around here.
- She's got it all loose.
Mr Sargent tells me he could use
a couple of good hands at his place.
Hanger needs taking up. Would you
hold up that end just a minute, boss?
I thought maybe you and Tim
might like to go to work for him.
Ja, boss.
You know, with the herd as small as it is now,
I could pretty well handle it myself.
Besides, I... Well, I just can't afford to pay you
after the first of the month, Gus.
That fixed it, I bet.
- You didn't hear one word I said to you.
- You said you couldn't pay us.
- Well?
- That don't make no difference.
Tim and me wouldn't be happy anyplace else.
Ja. Works pretty good now.
Rob! Breakfast!
Drink yourjuice. How do you
want your eggs? Fried or scrambled?
Fried, I guess. Where's Ken?
Upstairs. He said
he wasn't very hungry this morning.
- I think I'd better have a little talk with him.
- Oh, Rob. Wait.
Be nice to him. He's taken it pretty hard.
- Breakfast is ready.
- Coming, Dad.
Hurry up. Got a big day in front of us.
Gotta get the hay in.
It's bringing 40 dollars a ton this season.
Forget it, son. We took a chance and lost
and that's all there is to it.
- But I'd so counted on his winning.
- I know.
And now Thunderhead
will never be able to run again.
Ken, when I was your age I was just like you.
Something turned out right, I was
on the housetops. Everything looked rosy.
Turned out wrong, I was down in the cellar.
Everything pitch-black.
Then I started to grow up.
You know, there's lots of ways
you can grow up.
You can grow up to be cocky
if you get what you want,
but bitter if you don't.
You can grow up to take
both success and failure in your stride.
That's what I'd like you to do, son.
What happens isn't important.
What is important
is the courage with which you meet it.
Anybody can cheer when he wins.
When he loses,
it takes a big man
to pick up the pieces and start all over.
I'm sorry, Dad. I guess
I was kind of acting like a baby.
- What do you say we have a little breakfast?
- That's for me.
Ever since Thunderhead's leg is well,
he's getting restless.
He wants to get out. He can't stand
being shut up in the corral.
I haven't been riding him enough lately.
I'm just about ready for that board, Kenny.
- Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.
- Kenny, look what I got! A new dress.
Ken, give me a hand
with the groceries, will you?
- You shouldn't have done that.
- Oh, don't be silly. She looks so cute in it.
- What is it?
- The Albino's raided again. Banner's hurt.
- Banner?
- Oh, Rob.
Gus, get the rifles. Kenny, get
the medicine kit. Tim, we'll saddle the horses.
Better get on your horse, Ken.
- That Albino's as good as dead too, I bet.
- Yeah.
Let's go.
Let's try that trail.
Thunderhead, come back!
Brownie, Sky High.
Dad's mares.
The Albino.
Get him, Thunderhead. Get him.
His hooves! Watch his hooves!
Get up and fight, Thunderhead.
Get up and fight!
Now you got him.
You killed the Albino.
You saved my life, Thunderhead.
Easy, boy. Easy. You don't have to
fight any more. It's all over now.
You and I have to go and find Dad
to tell him about the mares. Come on.
Come back here!
- There he is, boss.
- Ken!
Ken. Where have you been?
You had me worried to death.
I found the Albino.
This is where he kept our mares.
- The Albino?
- He charged. He nearly got me.
- Are you all right?
- Sure. Thunderhead killed him.
There he is.
Gee whiz.
The Albino, dead.
- He was a great horse, wasn't he, Dad?
- One of the greatest.
Hey, boss.
Thunderhead's driving off the herd.
Come on, Ken. Climb up.
- He's taking them home.
- Gee whiz. Well, let's help him.
Mrs McLaughlin!
Mrs McLaughlin!
- What is it, Hildy?
- Look what's coming.
- Do we own all those horses?
- No, we don't, Hildy. I can't understand it.
- Where did all those horses come from?
- We're back in business, thanks to Ken.
- And Thunderhead.
- And Thunderhead.
He saved my life by killing the Albino.
That means more
than if he'd won a hundred races.
Oh, easy, boy.
What's the matter, Thunderhead?
Dad, what's wrong with him?
What's the matter, boy?
- He acts like I were a stranger to him.
- It isn't that.
He brought them here
cos this has been his home.
- It's still his home.
- Don't forget, son,
Thunderhead has taken the Albino's throne
away from him. He's a king now.
I'm afraid neither corrals nor fences,
no matter how big, can ever hold him again.
Whoa, son. Easy, boy.
Take it easy.
Don't you want to stay, Thunderhead?
All right.
You can go.
Bye, Thunderhead!
So the Albino's won at last.