Bonanza (1959–1973): Season 14, Episode 7 - The Twenty-Sixth Grave - full transcript

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I don't know, Ben, I'm still not sure
I ought to take this trip.

Oh, come on now, Goodman.

You asked me for the money
to buy a new press

and you've been running
hot and cold ever since.

A new press
isn't going to do me any good

if I get back here
and there's no newspaper.

Oh, you'll only be gone, what,
less than a week.

I just don't like
the idea of turning it over

to some young reporter
who is brash and hot-headed.



Now, look, I know he's young
and he's cocky,

but I think he has every right to be.

He writes a whole lot better
than most people I've come across,

and he's a good newspaperman.

Well, I don't know
about newspapering, Pa,

but he sure tells great stories.

He sure does.

Well, now, Smiley used to
keep this little beast

in a little lattice box.

Every once in a while,
he'd fetch him into town

and lay for a bet.

Well, one day, a fella...

Now, he was a stranger in camp,
he was.

He saw him with this little box
and he said...



"Say, what have you got there
in that there box?"

Well, Smiley, he just sort of
indifferent like, says,

"Well, could be a parrot.

"Then, again,
it could be a canary, maybe.

"But it ain't.

"It's only just a frog."

- Well, Sam.
- Well, Mr. Cartwright, Jamie.

Mr. Clemens. Hey, Petey.

How you doing? Good to see you.

Thank you.

Tell him about the frog.

Well, uh, we'll get back to him.

Now, listen, you make sure
that these papers

get to the proper saloons.

- See you later.
- Okay, Petey.

Jamie, my friend,
I hope you've been takin'

all my advice seriously.

Now, always obey your pa...
When he's present.

And always do right,
'cause it amazes most people.

Well, I try.

- Oh, I got something to show you.
- What's that?

How does it look, pretty official?

Samuel Clemens, Editor Pro Tem.

Yeah, it looks pretty official.

It kind of surprises me, though, Sam.

Knowin' you, I figured you'd be
usin' much bigger type.

Well, I guess I was born modest.

Oh, yeah.

Not all over, but in spots.

But, listen, why don't we
celebrate on it?

Why don't we have a drink?

Uh, yeah, I'll have a little short one.

Yeah.

Well, I only drink myself
to prevent toothache.

I never had one, but I don't
want to take any chances.

- Hey, Campbell.
- Huh?

How about running over
to the Silver Dollar

and, uh, bringin' us back
a bottle of whiskey?

Oh.

Oh, well, what will I use for...

Oh, I'm sure Mr. Cartwright
has the money handy.

All right, Mr. Campbell, here.
That ought to do it.

I'll bring you back your change.

Uh, bring back the best whiskey.

- For Mr. Cartwright.
- Oh, naturally.

Naturally.

Sam, I sure appreciate
your talent with a bottle.

How you do as an editor?

Well, I think I'm doin' all right,
considering it's my first day.

What's this?

"How to steal with government help."

This another one of
your funny stories, Sam?

"It's about time
somebody around these parts

"started asking questions
of Mr. H.V. Prentiss...

"Our distinguished
government assayer.

"It seems kind of strange
that in less than a year,

"five new graves have been added
to the Virginia City Boot Hill,

"and some awfully good friends of
Mr. Prentiss have filed rich claims."

Sam Prentiss has been a respected
member of this community

for more than 20 years,

and you're saying he's involved
in claim-jumping and murder?

Well, "involved" is a kinda fancy word,
but it covers it.

Now, Sam, that can't be true.

It just can't be true.

Now, how... How could you
print a story like this?

Why, this'll ruin Goodman.

You... You better have the proof.

Hmm. Somebody must be
getting a little touchy.

Well, it's nice to know
people are readin' the papers.

Bert, another round of drinks.

No. No, not for me.

Well, I don't object to abstinence,
in other people.

Bert, hold Mr. Cartwright's drink.

You know, Sam, that story
you wrote for the Enterprise

got this whole town
turned upside down.

Bert, maybe you ought to
tell Mr. Cartwright about that.

See, I used to have a cabin
on Jackass Hill.

He thinks there's some connection.

Where did you get that information
for this story?

Right over there.

From a man standing at the bar
who was pretty upset about it.

You know, sometimes drinking
can be a big help.

You're a lot more apt to get the truth
out of a man in his cups

than a sober citizen.

How do you know this is the truth?

A newspaperman has to have a nose
for things like that, Mr. Cartwright.

If he doesn't, he ought to buy
himself a pick and shovel.

And I was told
he was a very reliable citizen.

All right, who is this reliable citizen?

Never mind who.

Anyway, he told me that an old miner
staked out a claim right next to his.

Seems this old geezer
had struggled all the way through

all the rat holes in the west,
and he finally struck it rich.

Got so excited, he wrote his wife
to come on with the kids.

Then he went over to Mr. Prentiss
at the assay office

to register his claim.

It's the last anybody ever saw of him.

And a couple of days later,

that same claim was filed
in the name of a Mr. Jack McNabb.

Jack McNabb?

He... He's a dealer
at the Lucky Nugget,

when he works at all.

Been a lot of other interesting claims
here, Mr. Cartwright.

Billy Mulligan, Joe McGee,
Hank Farmer, Jack Williams...

Now, not one of those men
would know gold

if he ran across it in his own teeth.

Well, that still doesn't
implicate Prentiss.

I did a lot more checking
as a reporter.

Would you say that H.V. Prentiss
was a big spender?

- Well, he's careful with his money.
- Careful?

There isn't a man alive
who can remember

when he bought anybody a drink.

And he just bought
a brand-new spread

and he paid for it in cash.

Well, I admit,
that does sound strange.

But I still think
you should have had real proof

before you printed it in the paper.

There are five unmarked graves
in Virginia City Boot Hill.

One for each claim.

Now, how many more
you want me to wait for?

Sam, you owe me a responsibility.

I guaranteed your job.

Mr. Cartwright,
I'm very grateful to you,

but I don't tell you
how to run the Ponderosa.

'Cause I wouldn't know
one end of a calf from the other,

and that's what you know
about the newspaper business.

Sam Clemens.

I had no problem
figurin' out where to find you.

Hello, Clem.

Glad to see you, Sheriff.

I'm glad you dropped by.

You saved me a trip.

I'd like to swear out a complaint
against H.V. Prentiss,

Jack McNabb, and Hank Farmer.

For what?

For destruction of
Territorial Enterprise office,

and intent to do bodily harm.

I won't even bring up
interfering with freedom of the press.

But they didn't have anything to do

with smashing up
the newspaper office.

Now, what makes you so sure of that?

Because I just came
from the people who did.

Prentiss has a lot of friends
in this town

who are pretty upset
with what you wrote about him.

- Good, decent citizens.
- Oh, decent, yeah.

I use words, they use rocks.

I've got a subpoena for you.

Prentiss is suing you for libel.

$10,000? Is that all?

Well, we'll, uh...

I'll... I'll talk to Prentiss
and see if I can straighten it out.

There's no way
we can straighten it out

unless he signs a full confession.

Now, don't look so worried.

How can I lose to a darn fool
who thinks I have $10,000?

The libel suit of H.V. Prentiss versus
the Nevada Territorial Enterprise

and Samuel Clemens, Editor,
for $10,000 is now in session.

Gonna take a long time
to pay that off at $5 a week.

Mr. Clemens, the Territorial
Enterprise is also liable.

Well, now, we've got some visitors.

Overnight miners.

McNabb, Farmer, Mulligan,
McGee, and Williams.

They're a real American
success story.

Are the attorneys ready to proceed
with the picking of a jury?

- We are, Your Honor.
- We are, Your Honor.

Mr. Caldwell, are you acquainted with
the defendant, Mr. Samuel Clemens?

I know him.

I met him when
he first came to Virginia City.

You know him well?

No, not very well.

Have you read the vicious,
slanderous story...

Objection.
Slander has not been proved.

Objection sustained.

I'll rephrase it. Uh...

Have you read any of the allegations
against Mr. Prentiss

printed in the Territorial Enterprise?

Pretty hard not to.

If you didn't read 'em,
you heard 'em all over town.

Sam Clemens called Prentiss a thief,
and a lot more.

Excused. You may step down.

That's all right. I wouldn't want him
on the jury anyway.

Of course I read the story.

How else would I know
what's going on in town?

Your Honor, where are you
gonna find anybody in Virginia City

who doesn't know about the story?

Unless he's deaf, or blind, or a nitwit.

Mr. Clemens, you're out of order.

Sam, I hired Osgood because
he's the best lawyer in town.

Why don't you let him handle things?

He kinda worries me.
He's not like most lawyers.

Keeps his hands in his own pockets.

Your Honor,
would you inform the defendant

that it is customary to select jurors

with no previous knowledge
of the case being tried?

Your Honor, the law says
I'm entitled to a jury of my peers.

That means people who can read.

Mr. Clemens, I warn you.

Either you confine your editorials
to your newspaper,

or I'll hold you in contempt.

- I'll tell you another thing.
- Ah, Mr. Clemens, now that's enough.

Mr. Merrick, are you prepared
to proceed with the case?

I am, Your Honor.

I would like to call
Mr. Samuel Clemens

to the stand, please.

Too bad I'm not being tried
for murder.

Based on the record around here,
I'd be a lot more sure of an acquittal.

Mr. Clemens,

will you merely answer
the counsel's questions?

Well, I'll try, Your Honor,

but sometimes things just sort of
leak out of me, like the truth.

Your Honor,
I would like to introduce into evidence

the March 6th issue
of the Territorial Enterprise.

In the front page story,
written by Mr. Clemens here,

my client, the plaintiff,
is outrageously implicated

in fraud and no less than five murders.

Yeah, well, now,
about that, Your Honor,

there might have been more.

- Five was all I could put my finger on.
- Mr. Clemens.

The Court will not tolerate any further
accusations against Mr. Prentiss.

Now, Mr. Clemens,
in your pre-trial deposition here,

you state that the basis
for that whole pack of lies

was the babblings of a man
you met in the Silver Dollar Saloon.

Now, hold on a minute.
He wasn't babbling.

He was a concerned citizen

who was worried
about what's goin' on in this town.

Well, may we have the name
of this public spirited citizen?

I can't give you that.

Mr. Clemens, are you afraid that
if you gave us the name of this man,

your whole story would be exposed
as a tissue of lies?

No, there's a lot more to it than that.

Now, ever since the early Egyptians
were writing on papyrus,

it's been an unwritten law

that a newspaperman
doesn't have to reveal

where he gets his story.

You seem to be quite an expert
on the unwritten laws,

but not the written ones.

Well, it stands to reason
nobody's gonna tell a story

to a newspaperman in confidence

if he can get yanked
into court the next day.

Mr. Clemens, even if you refuse
to give us the name of this man,

don't you suppose
that this very concerned citizen

would show up here on his own,
voluntarily?

Not if he knows where
his head ought to be.

The moment he came
through that door,

his life wouldn't be worth
a plugged nickel.

Mr. Clemens, then your entire defense

is based on the hearsay of a man
that you refuse to name,

if he exists at all.

I don't need anybody
to back me up.

Why, when my lawyer gets
Mr. Prentiss

and his cronies up here
on the stand,

even you might be
a little embarrassed.

Your Honor, would you
please remind the defendant

and his learned counsel that
Mr. Prentiss and the other men named

in that outrageous story
are not on trial here.

They do not have
to testify as witnesses.

Objection, Your Honor.

I must call these men.

Mr. Clemens wrote this story
by himself.

I don't see he has any right
to ask for help.

Objection denied.

No more questions, Mr. Clemens.

Gentlemen of the jury,
have you reached a verdict?

We have, Your Honor.

What is your verdict?

We think Mr. Prentiss
is entitled to the $10,000.

Some of us think
it should have been more.

I have something to add
to the jury's verdict.

Mr. Clemens has made
a lot of speeches

about the rights of the press.

Well, citizens have rights, too.

The Court orders him
to print an immediate retraction

in the next issue
of the Territorial Enterprise.

Court is adjourned.

That's not surprising.
He didn't have a chance

of winning without
that man's testimony.

I told him that. Osgood told him that.

He just won't listen to anybody.

That man likes being in trouble.
He enjoys it.

- Yeah.
- Well, I hope you're proud

of your brilliant young editor.

Tell him he'd better be careful
about what he prints, though,

because next time
there won't be a libel suit.

Say, Mr. Cartwright,
you know that picture

of Justice holding up the scales,
blindfolded?

Why, I finally know
where they got that idea from.

Virginia City.

Welcome.

Have a drink to celebrate
the wisdom of the courts.

No, thank you.

Well, all right.

I'll save it for a man
who appreciates good whiskey.

I assume you've been in touch
with Mr. Goodman?

Well, I figured
he was entitled to know.

I sent him a wire.

I hope you apologized
for your strange selection of editors.

Hope you explained to him
that the good seed went wrong

despite all your tender ministrations.

No, I explained that Osgood
was appealing the decision,

and that if he loses,
I'll be responsible for the 10,000.

Now, how did they ever pack
so much nobility into one man?

Sam, that sounds like whiskey talkin'.

I only wish it were true.

What you hear is outrage...

Laced with small parts of alcohol.

Well, I figured I'd better come by

and take a look at that
retraction for tomorrow's paper.

Oh, sure. Here it is.

Fresh from my fertile mind.

I hope it meets with your approval.

It, uh, falls just short
of bestowing sainthood.

"The Editor of
the Territorial Enterprise wishes to

"publicly apologize
for impugning the reputation

"of a beloved public servant,
H.V. Prentiss,

"and such fine pillars
of the community

"as Jack McNabb, Hank Farmer..."

Sam, that's laying it on
a bit too thick.

Well, I figure
if you're gonna be a boot-licker,

you might as well go all the way.

I don't think the idea is to
make them a laughingstock.

Now, no, you don't, Mr. Cartwright.

You may own a lot of acres,

but you don't rewrite Sam Clemens.

"The editor of
the Territorial Enterprise

"apologizes for bringing
unjust allegations

"against H.V. Prentiss,
the government assayer,

"and such citizens
as Jack McNabb, Hank Farmer,

"Joe McGee, Billy Mulligan,
Jack Williams.

"We hope they will
accept this apology without rancor."

That better?

I think it's closer to what
the court had in mind, yes.

Thank you very much for coming
all the way into town

to check up on me.

Sam, I'm not against you.

If Prentiss is guilty,

we'll do anything we can
to help you prove it.

But in the meantime,
people keep disappearing.

Well, thanks for droppin' by.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Sure. You keep that watchful eye.

Sam, I'd better have the retraction
if I'm going to reset the front page.

Campbell, do you know where
a man's conscience is located?

It's in his stomach.

And if he does something
that he feels is wrong,

it makes him sick.

Sam, we're going to miss
the deadline.

You never mind the retraction.
You print that.

Eh?

Oh, Sam, no.
No, we can't print this.

Campbell, you're gonna print it,
or I'm gonna print it.

All right. Now, Sam,
we're gonna be in real trouble.

You know what the judge ordered.

You never mind the judge.

We'll worry about him tomorrow.

'Cause tonight, we're newspapermen.

But this is very strong medicine.

A good dose of truth
really settles a man's stomach.

You shouldn't have done this, Sam.

You shouldn't have riled Judge Hale.

He wasn't on my side
when he wasn't riled.

Well, the Enterprise will be closed

until Mr. Goodman
gets back and settles things.

Most of you should get your jobs
back in about a week.

Come on, Riverboat.

Well, now,
there's no need for long faces.

People are always trying
to fight the press.

They only win temporarily.

Mr. Clemens,
what am I gonna tell my ma?

Well, Petey, you tell your ma

that you printed the most
important story of the year

and show her you earned
an unexpected vacation.

Hey, thanks a lot,
Mr. Clemens.

Well, gentlemen,
what do you say we celebrate

my remarkable rise
from affluence to poverty?

'Mornin', Bert.

Ah, Sam, I hear
you having a little trouble.

Newspaper shot out from under you?

No, no, just went lame for awhile.

How 'bout a round of drinks
for everybody and put it on my tab.

I'm sorry, Sam, no more tabs.
Not when you're out of work.

Yeah, I'd settle five cents
on the dollar with these tabs.

Oh, Bert, I'm real disappointed in you.

Nobody's closer to human suffering
than a bartender.

Now, if you don't want to bring
a disgrace to your profession...

Bert, put it on my tab.

It'll be our pleasure
to buy Mr. Clemens his last drink.

Fill 'em up.

Now, don't extend yourself, McNabb.

Oh, it's no trouble at all, Clemens.

Now, I know it's not smart
to go lookin' for trouble

with the newspaper editor,

but then, uh, I don't have to
worry about that now, do I?

I mean, you're out of a job.

To your good health.

Stand up.

Stand up like a man.

Here.

Let's see you shoot that,

like the way you've been
shooting off your mouth.

You've got about three seconds.

You got longer than that.

McNabb, you got some beef,
why don't you take it up

with the sheriff, legally?

Still protecting
your bright little boy, huh?

Well, we can wait.

Yeah.

Big Daddy ain't gonna
always be around. No, siree.

Come on.

Well, I sure am glad
you dropped by, Mr. Cartwright.

Boy, you couldn't have
picked a better time.

Bert, a round of drinks
on Mr. Cartwright.

No drinks.

Well, now, don't be upset.

I wouldn't let McNabb
get under my skin.

Why didn't you print that retraction
you showed me last night?

Well, I got to thinkin' about it,

and I didn't figure
it was right to confuse people.

So you just shut down the paper, huh?

Yeah, temporarily.

I think a newspaper ought to
shut down if it can't tell the truth.

Might make a better general store.

What am I supposed to tell
Mr. Goodman?

You tell him you made a mistake.

You thought running a newspaper
was kinda like a pink tea party.

You step on
somebody's toes with a story,

you're supposed to curtsy
and say I'm sorry.

I didn't say you were wrong.
I just asked you to wait.

And in the meantime, I'm supposed to
glorify Prentiss and a pack of killers?

Now, I couldn't do that
when I was a printer's devil!

I'm sorry if I've endangered
the Cartwright position

as a sacred cow in this community.

But if you don't like it,

you should have gotten yourself
another editor!

One who can write about the birth
of a foal on the Ponderosa.

That way, you wouldn't have
any trouble at all.

Very funny.

Well, these gentlemen don't seem
to understand newspapermen.

Why don't we have a drink
with somebody who does?

Uh, Sam, what am I
gonna do with these?

Bert, you save 'em for a better day.

Well, I could've told you,
you couldn't talk any sense into him.

Well, we sure could buy
a lot of cattle with all that money.

Boys, I'd like you to follow Sam,
keep an eye on him.

Why? What for?

It's just gonna be
one saloon after another.

McNabb's over there,

still waitin' to get a crack at him.

Just see that he doesn't.

Where you goin'?

I'll, uh... I'll find you later.

Hey, Bert, uh,
give me a whiskey, will you?

A little something to calm you down
after the fracas?

Oh, that wasn't anything.
Just a friendly argument.

Well, if that was friendly,

I sure don't want to be around
when you people get mad.

No, really, it wasn't anything.

Oh, I... I came back to...

I want to pay Sam's tabs.

All of them?

You know, Mr. Cartwright,
old Sam does a lot of talking,

and when he gets to talking,
he gets powerful thirsty.

$15, $17...

All these big parties?

Well, no, not all of them.

Some of them were for two people.

Now, that one for $17,

that goes back to Thursday
or Friday, I think.

Old Sam stood there talking
for hours with this miner.

That fella seemed
real upset about somethin'.

You recall who it was?

Hmm, no.
Uh, I don't think I'd remember.

Sounded like, uh, Hodges.

Oh, now I remember. It was Hutchins.

Dan Hutchins was his name.

Dan Hutchins.

Total these up, will you?

Oh, I got the total exactly. It's 78.25.

Uh, Sam always adds 10% for the tip.

All right. Here. Here.
That should cover everything.

Thank you, Mr. Cartwright.

I sure hope this is worth it to you.

I think it is.

Back. Back.

Dan?

Dan Hutchins?

Now, he was an honest lad...

Full of great sorrow, though,
and a bit confused.

You see, he was from Arkansas...

And as everybody knows...

His whole state
was destroyed by mosquitoes.

His delusion was that

the Arkansas mosquito was
the most ornery of all mosquitoes.

He's ornery,

but he isn't nearly as ornery
as a Lake Province mosquito.

I know, one of my best friends
who never lies, told me.

Two Lake Province mosquitoes
can whip a dog.

Four of 'em can hold a man down
and they'll kill him

if he doesn't scream
for help soon enough.

"They butcher him,"
is the phrase my friend used.

He told me he'd seen 'em try to vote.

Well, I admit it did put a little strain
on my imagination.

He did modify it a bit.

He said that he wasn't exactly sure
of the particulars,

but he was sure. He was sure...

That he'd seen them around
the polls a few times.

Canvassing.

Oh!

A pilot!

A riverboat pilot once told me a story.

I know it's true,
'cause he never lied to me.

Uh-oh, I think we're getting back
to the alligator.

You could never manage
to go down the river

without running on an alligator.

He used to be able to steer
right to the best alligator water

and slide right on through

without ever hitting an alligator,
and he seldom even woke one up.

$1,000 a month.

They paid that man $1,500.

He got a raise.

But it was worth it.

Good night, boys.

I enjoyed your company...

About as much as two rattlers.

Now, like all good Americans,

I reserve the right to pick
my own sleeping partners.

Well, you just get some rest.
Don't worry about us.

Pretend we're not here.

We'll just hang around
for a little while, all right?

Look, I don't need your protection.

Besides, nobody's come near me
except you two!

And that's the way Pa wants it.

Why, I talked myself blue in the face
to get Pa to listen,

and now, suddenly, Pa decides
he's all worried about me.

Well, I don't need his help.

You get a good night's sleep.

You'll feel a lot better in the morning.

There are few things
harder to put up with

than the annoyance
of a good example.

See, people are complaining.

You're probably keepin' 'em all awake.

Well, maybe you can get 'em
out of here.

- Now they're homesteadin'.
- Sam.

That miner who told you
about Prentiss,

was it Dan Hutchins?

Why?

Now, come on, now, Sam,
was he your informant?

What difference does it make?

Anyway, why should I tell you
what I wouldn't tell the court?

Because if it was Dan Hutchins,
then your story was true.

Somebody killed him
before I could get to him.

Can't we stop off
for a bit of the hair of the dog?

Sam, just as soon as the judge
gives us the court order,

you can have all the drinks you want.

Mr. Cartwright, that judge
isn't gonna help us,

not after he ruled against me.

He'd be thrown off the bench
for behavin' like a human being.

Pa can handle Judge Hale.

Now, you've got to remember

the name of the miner
who disappeared.

Didn't Hutchins tell you his name?

Yeah, he mentioned it several times.

Foreign name.

Well, what is it?

Well, a drink would jog my wits.

Well, just a minute now.

Come on, this way.

Is it a French name?

Or Italian?

No, it's nothin' like that.

It started with a "B."

That's it. Jan Boros.

You sure?

Sure as I'll ever be at this hour.

Boros.

Ben, what you're asking
is highly unusual.

That's the one thing any judge
is always afraid of is the unusual.

He hasn't got a precedent to go on.

He just wraps himself
in his robes and disappears.

I don't feel I have the right
to interfere with the public mails.

What did I tell you?

Now, look, Dan Hutchins
was the only witness

that could have
corroborated Sam's story.

Now, he was killed. He was murdered

because somebody was afraid
of what he might say.

Maybe his murder
had nothin' to do with that.

Maybe his mule drew a bead on him.

If you'd have stood up in court

and given us Hutchins' name
the way you should've,

maybe this wouldn't have happened.

No, he'd have been
murdered a lot sooner.

There's no point
in going into bygones, is there?

Now, all we're asking for
is a court order

to go through the unclaimed letters
at the post office.

It's the only way we can prove

that a miner by the name
of Jan Boros disappeared.

What makes you so sure
there's a letter?

Well, Dan Hutchins told Sam

that Boros,
when he made his rich strike,

wrote a letter to his wife,

sayin' that he was gonna send
for her and for the kids.

Now, the odds are,
she'd have written him back.

That letter's probably just
sitting there, waitin'.

You'd do anything to back up Sam.

There's murder
and claim-jumping involved.

All right, Ben...

I'll make a deal with you.

Your lawyer's appealing my decision.

That's not gonna make me
look good in Carson City.

I'll give you the court order.

But if you don't find that letter,
you drop the appeal.

Well, uh...

If we don't find any real evidence,
you got yourself a deal.

Good thing you
came when you did, Mr. Cartwright.

We were gonna send
a lot of this stuff back.

Don't keep anything over six months.

Here's the last of 'em.

Thank you.

You got anything?

Well, there's nothin' here
even close to, um, Boros.

Are you sure you got that name right?

Yeah, it's the right name.

Wish it was Jones or Thompson.
I got a fistful of those.

Well...

Nothin' here.

Thanks for letting us waste your time.

Thank you.

Bert, make that round
of drinks on me.

You mean, on your tab?

No, I'll pay for it in cash.

I always keep a little bit around
for emergencies.

Sort of a sinking fund.

I wouldn't believe that if I didn't
see it with my own eyes.

To you, Mr. Cartwright.

Any man deserves your respect.

- Hmm.
- I'll drink to that.

Well, for what?

For coming up with a plan
that didn't work?

Well, Mr. Cartwright,
I had you pegged all wrong.

I knew you were a decent sort of fella,

and you give a square deal
with the hands on the Ponderosa.

Keep a watchful eye
on things in Virginia City,

in a fatherly sort of way...

Anything to keep up
that shiny Cartwright reputation.

But you're a lot better than that.

You'll plow right in
and get a little dirty

if it's something important.

Sam, that's quite a speech
you just made.

Well, I just want you
to know I'm grateful.

You made a lot of enemies
around here in Virginia City,

all on account of me.

Yeah.

H.V. Prentiss isn't about
to invite you to supper.

No.

Oh, and Judge Hale isn't exactly
fond of you, either.

Well, he'll feel
a whole lot better about it

when I tell him
I'm dropping the appeal.

Let's have another round of drinks

and figure out how to beat
the old goat.

Well, I can't do that.

Sam, you're a bigger fool than I am.

Now, when you pick up your mail,
do you go to the post office?

No, I come right here
to my favorite saloon.

That's right.

Bert... can I see that mail?

Oh, there's nothin' here
for Sam, Mr. Cartwright.

Nobody'd be writin' you
at the Silver Dollar.

That's true,
but I have a court order here

giving me permission to look over
any unclaimed mail for Jan Boros.

Oh, I'll take your word for it,
Mr. Cartwright.

Let's see now.

No... Oh, here's one
from Olathe, Kansas.

"Jan, my dearest,

"it was wonderful to read
the good news.

"The children are very excited.

"They tell everyone
their father has found

"the richest mine
in the State of Nevada.

"Jimmy had a cold...

"It's taken a long time,
but I never gave up hope.

"You were wearing my wedding band,

"and I knew it would bring good luck."

Now, let's go over
and rub Judge Hale's nose in it.

You're gonna have to be
very nice to Judge Hale, Sam.

You're gonna have to tie and gag him
if you expect him to do it.

Why do I have to be
so gosh darn polite?

We got the letter!

This letter doesn't prove any murder.

We're gonna have to get permission
from Judge Hale to...

To dig up Jan Boros' body.

How are we gonna find it?
There's five unmarked graves.

Only one with a woman's
wedding band.

Let's go.

Better get this over with
before the whole town

comes nosin' around
to see what we're up to.

Can't make it too fast for me.

Where do you want to start?

Your guess is as good as mine.

Open up that one, boys.

There's nothin' to be afraid of.

Ben, I think
this is a waste of time.

If he was wearin' the ring,
like she said,

they'd have taken it off of him
if it was worth anything.

I... I doubt it was worth very much.

It sure takes a lot of diggin'.

You all right?

Yeah, I'm all right.

Let me have that.

No ring.

Close it.

Wrong again. No, uh... No ring.

This could be a bad idea.

We're not through yet.

All right, come on, boys, keep moving.

It won't be long now.
This is the last one.

Don't worry about me, Pa. I'm fine.

The kid's real brave
or he's a great liar.

We got it.

That's all we need. Close it.

Pa!

You want a shot?

No, thanks.

I hit one of them.
I think it was McNabb.

If he's hurt bad enough,
he shouldn't be hard to find.

Sonny, fill up those graves!

This doesn't figure.
Somebody ought to be here.

Doc Webb's too old
to go out on calls at this hour.

Maybe there was an emergency.

Well, if it was an emergency,

you wouldn't call
Doc Webb out of town.

He'd never make it.

Let's keep lookin'.

McNabb's not over
at Doc Baldwin's.

Doc got mad at me for wakin' him up.

We left Jamie off over at the hotel.

Good.

Well, there are only
two doctors in town.

He'd be at one or the other.
He's not up there.

Well, maybe I just didn't hit him
as hard as I thought.

I can't do anything without light.

You'd better do it without light.

For God's sake, man,
let him get the bullet out.

Don't worry, Jack,
it won't take much longer.

What'd you find out
in the saloons?

Nobody knows anything about
McNabb or any of his friends.

Did you check the backrooms?

Sheriff, I checked places
you've never even heard of.

Do you mind if I sit down?

Oh, it's no use.

You'd better get some rest.
I'll set up a roadblock.

Oh, get me a drink, will ya?

Later.

I... I can't hold out much longer.

Take it easy, Jack.

It'll be a few more minutes.
They're about ready to leave.

Hold everything right there!

- You all right, Doc?
- I'm all right.

On your feet. Come on!

McNabb, are you gonna tell us
all about Prentiss and the others

or are you gonna pay for this
all by yourself?

I'll tell you anything, anything at all.

Only let him get the bullet out.

Well, all we have to do now
is round up Mr. Prentiss.

I'll let you take care of this.

I've got things to do.

You can deduct
the cost of that window

from my salary, Mr. Goodman,

if you have to.

Sam, I think the window was worth it.

You sure you won't stay
with the Enterprise?

Can't be a general and then be
demoted back into the ranks.

Thanks, Mr. Cartwright.
It's been nice knowin' you,

even if I did raise
your blood pressure a little.

Sam, what are you gonna do?

Well, I guess I'll poke my nose
into other people's business,

like I always do.

Then I'll write about it
and maybe somebody'll be interested.

- Well, I'll see you.
- Hey, where's your bags?

- I'll give you a hand with 'em.
- No, I always travel light.

Most people think
I'm smoking too much,

but I'm just movin'.

Take care.

Jamie, I almost forgot,
I have a story for you.

I haven't got time to tell it to you,
but maybe you'll take this.

Thanks, Mr. Clemens.

"The Celebrated Jumping Frog
of Calaveras County."

Well, this isn't your story.
It says it's by Mark Twain.

Well, a writer has to have
a lot of names so he'll be protected.

Stage, pulling up!

Better get going. I'll see you.

- Bye, Sam.
- Good luck.

Come on, are you comin'?

- Bye, Sam.
- Bye.

You'll get used to it.