Centennial (1978–1979): Season 1, Episode 1 - Only the Rocks Live Forever - full transcript
Hello. I'm James Michener.
And those peaks are part of a majestic
mountain range we call the Rockies.
Granite giants that have been
a part of this land forever,
that symbolize our nation's
strength and freedom.
I suppose my primary reason for
writing the book Centennial
was to ask us, you and me,
if we're aware of what's happening
right now to this land we love,
this earth we depend
upon for life.
It's a novel, of course,
and its characters and
scenes are imaginary.
But there were French
trappers from Canada,
like the man who called
himself Pasquinel.
There were mountain men from Scotland
like the man named Alexander McKeag.
There was a silversmith in St.
Louis like Hermann Bockweiss,
an Army officer
like Maxwell Mercy,
a militia commander
like Frank Skimmerhorn,
a Texas trail boss like R.J.
Poteet,
and certain background incidents
and characters are real.
In the 1820s and '30s, the
mountain men did hold
an annual rendezvous
in the Rockies.
In 1851, there was a great
convocation at Fort Laramie
that saw 10,000 Indians gather to
approve a treaty with our government.
In 1864, there was a massacre
that is to this day one of our
nation's greatest tragedies.
And the same decade did see the great
longhorn trail drives north from Texas.
The cattle would bring
a need for a town.
A town like the one
I call Centennial.
This is the story of that town.
It's a big story
about the people who helped
make this country what it is,
and the land that makes
the people what they are.
And it's a story about time.
Not just as a record,
but also a reminder.
A reminder that during the few
years allotted to each of us,
we are the guardians
of the earth.
We are, at once, the
custodians of our heritage,
and the caretakers
of our future.
Stay with us for the great
adventure of the American West.
When the Earth was
already ancient,
of an age
incomprehensible to man,
an event of basic importance
occurred in the area
which would later be
known as Colorado.
One billion, seven hundred
million years ago,
an irresistible power broke through the
crust of the Earth to form a basement rock.
That rock would endure
to this very day.
Upon it would be built the
subsequent mountains.
Across it would
wander the rivers.
Brawling, undisciplined,
violent arteries of life
that are part of an endless cycle
of building up and tearing down,
of stripping away old deposits
and laying down new rock,
using the same material
again and again.
By the year 15,000 B.C.,
the major characteristics
of the land around what was to become
Centennial were fairly well determined.
Some miles northwest
was a chalk cliff,
beds of limestone infinitely
older than the Rockies.
To the west and slightly to the
south was a gemlike mountain valley
where nuggets of gold had been raked from
the crevices of the rocks by a glacier
and hidden at the
bottom of a stream.
Another special place
was on the western bank
of a wandering, muddy stream
where Centennial was to be.
A small underwater cave that
might never have been found
except for a murder committed over
11,000 years after its creation.
And finally there is the river.
A sad, bewildered
nothing of a river,
a sand bottom of
wandering afterthought.
Its name is as flat
as its appearance.
The South Platte.
Yet for a while it was
the highway of empire.
It was the course of
stirring adventure
and the means whereby
the adventurers lived.
And so the stage is set,
the land has become a
home for living things.
One of the most loveable and
stubborn of all creatures
came to thrive in the
streams of Colorado.
One of the most deadly and terrifying
took refuge in its rocky sanctuaries.
The horse returned to the vast plains
that were its place of origin.
And a version of the
bison trekked from Asia
to roam the area that would
one day be Centennial.
This shaggy beast would become the center
of culture for the American Indian,
a nomadic people that migrated
from Asia 12,000 years ago
and stayed to develop a
primitive social order
and a deep appreciation
of the land.
In the year 1756,
a sliver group of a tribe, who referred
to themselves only as Our People,
faced a major crisis.
The Indians surrounding
them had horses,
making them more mobile in their
hunting and more powerful in war.
War between the various
tribes on the plains was
a kind of dangerous game that
seldom resulted in death.
What was important was
a display of courage.
Bravery was shown by touching or
striking an enemy with hand or weapon,
a practice later to be
known as counting coup.
But the bravest act of all
was for a warrior to stake
himself out to face his enemy.
Held to the ground by bison
thongs and his own pledge
to fight so long as
his strength lasted.
Because of its bold
disdain for the enemy,
this act would almost certainly
end in the warrior's death
and was practiced only under
desperate conditions.
For Our People, the year
1756 was such a time,
because they had no horses and they knew
they could not survive long without them.
My father...
I am your father.
My real father, where is he?
He is not coming.
Why? Where is he?
Listen to me.
Only the rocks live forever.
Only the rocks live forever.
Gray Wolf. My father.
I am your father now.
This young Indian was nine years old
when he first encountered death.
It was a thing he
could not fathom,
but he would learn to
face it without fear.
You didn't get any horses? No.
Then my father died for nothing.
Sun-at-Noon staked himself out.
He counted many coup.
I am proud he was my brother.
You can be proud he
was your father.
And we should both hope
to die such a death.
Only the rocks live forever.
He was called Lame Beaver,
and he was destined to
become a great leader
at a time when a force the
Indian could not imagine
was moving slowly
inexorably toward him.
A force that would change
his way of life forever.
As the century was
drawing to a close,
Lame Beaver had lived half of it
and seen many things,
and now he had been told
that he would see a god.
He's no god. He's a man.
He moves more like a bison,
like he owns the prairie.
And the wolves ran from him.
Maybe they're fresh
from another kill.
Maybe they had reason to fear him.
His skin is different.
Ute skin is different, too.
He's a man. We should
talk with him. No.
He must have killed many
Pawnee to get here.
He may kill us if we go to him.
We'll wait till dark, then we'll
see what his medicine is.
It was but one of many
coups for Lame Beaver,
but it was the beginning
of a new era.
In that moment of mutual
terror and trust,
a treaty was ratified between
the Indian and the white man.
A treaty that would change forever the
nature of life in the American West.
He was a coureur de bois.
One who runs in the woods.
A small, powerful Frenchman who
wore the red knitted cap of Quebec
and called himself Pasquinel.
He brought with him
blankets from Canada,
bright cloths from New Orleans,
silver from Germany
and beads from Paris.
With the coming of spring, he had
traded goods with the Arapaho,
the name by which the other
tribes referred to Our People.
He pressed his pelts into bales
weighing 100 pounds each.
And through that ingenious,
silent language of the plains
that is older than
speech itself,
Lame Beaver let him know that
he was welcome to come again.
He also let the trader know the gift he would
most like to have next time was a gun.
For he had seen
its awesome power
and knew it was the
weapon of the future.
And the white man agreed
to bring him one.
Then the Arapaho warned
him about the Pawnee.
Pasquinel had crossed their
land in safety coming in,
but the Arapaho insisted they would not
let him leave with anything of value.
Not even his life.
Heading eastward, he found
the river impassable
and was forced to
portage his pelts.
Selecting a hiding
place for his canoe
among a stand of cottonwoods
near the river's edge,
he covered it with brush
and set out on foot
to carry the first two
of his 100-pound bales
the distance of
over seven miles.
Satisfied that the bales
were properly concealed,
he calculated the hours
of daylight remaining
and turned back into the heart of Pawnee
territory for the rest of his pelts.
You come.
I follow.
I, Rude Water.
Pasquinel.
Gun?
Oui. Gun.
Like Lame Beaver, Rude
Water's primary interest
was in the weapon
the trader carried.
The Pawnee had met
white men before,
spoke some of their language,
and knew well the
power of the gun.
You come from where?
St. Louis.
St. Louis where sun rise.
I was with Lame Beaver.
How long you with Lame Beaver?
Your people must have told
you when I came through.
I saw them follow me.
You stay long time. Why?
Trade beaver.
Trade gun?
Non.
Trade bracelets and beads.
For you.
And your wife.
I have four wife.
You smart man.
We be friends, Pasquinel.
You give me gun, we
be good friends.
No. I need gun.
I could take.
Not if you're my friend.
And not if you want to
learn how to use the gun.
You smart man.
Next time you come,
you bring me gun.
The gun is worth many beaver.
We have plenty beaver.
I bring gun.
The reception and the
parting were so friendly
that Pasquinel knew Lame
Beaver's words were true.
He would have to fight.
By damn, he's
stubborn, the Pawnee.
Pawnee.
Cheyenne.
Pull it out.
No!
I will do it.
Bite.
The tip has caught on bone.
I cannot work it free.
Push it in, twist it and pull.
You would die.
Then cut it off
beneath the skin.
All the Cheyenne will
hear of Pasquinel.
Beaver! Much beaver!
We trade. You trade gun?
Trade? Yeah, sure. We trade gun.
These my peltries! They
stole them from me!
Get the rest of those pelts.
Sink those canoes.
His canoe, his rifle, his store of
goods, and his pelts were gone.
After two years of work,
all he had was a
knife on his hip
and an arrowhead in his back.
It's lodged in bone, all right.
The shaft's cut off
well below the surface.
Hurt?
Non.
That?
Non.
I can move it.
But if you can stand
that kind of pain,
it's not doing any damage,
I'd leave it alone.
Will you be going back?
As soon as I can find a
license holder to supply me.
To the Pawnee?
I have no war with the Pawnee.
Just the pirates.
Thank you, Doctor.
I'll pay you as soon as I find
someone to finance my next round.
Tell me, what's it
like out there?
Violent.
There is a wind that
never seems to stop.
Sometimes you swear
you are going insane.
And storms like you
have never seen,
screeching and booming
with their thunder.
And hail. Hail the
size of hen eggs.
They can kill whole
flights of birds.
In the spring, tornadoes that tear
apart everything in their path.
And in the winter,
snow squalls that kill
everything that is unprepared.
And in between the
storms, it falls silent.
So quiet you are certain
you are going mad
and you pray for the
storms to come back again.
And then when they come back again,
you pray for them to stop again.
I tell you, it is a land
fit only for the savages,
and you have seen
what they are like.
But I have seen worse.
I have seen much worse.
They are very curious how
slowly a man can die.
And if you survive the Indians and
the elements, there are the animals.
Wolves that run in whole packs,
and snakes that
strike from me to you
and plant their fangs
to pump their poison.
You find that amusing, monsieur?
Just wondering why
you're going back.
Because I am a simple
man, monsieur.
Without a profession,
without an education,
I know only the woods.
You know what I think?
Qu'est-ce que c'est?
I think you found a treasure.
A treasure?
What they fought for in France.
What my people fought
for in the colonies.
Freedom.
Do you know what I think? What?
I think that you are more
dangerous than the Pawnee.
Talk like that could
change everything.
I wish I could go with you.
I'm glad you think you cannot.
Perhaps... What?
I have a patient, a
merchant, a silversmith,
who has a trading license
with the governor.
Oui?
Well, I was just thinking that perhaps
we three could form a partnership.
He's just recently from Munich.
His name is Bockweiss.
Hermann Bockweiss.
You like it?
If I were a Cheyenne chief, I
could not live without it.
That is what I want to hear.
You see, Richard?
This is a man who
knows good work.
I know nothing about silver
but I know the Indian.
And you cannot make
enough of this.
And this, and this,
and that
is the pièce de résistance.
Do you know the
meaning of the pipe?
It's smoked for peace, isn't it?
And war.
And anything between men
that needs to be sanctified.
To many tribes on the plains,
this is their most
sacred possession.
They believe that the pipe gives them
a communion with the spirit world.
When they exhale the smoke, they
see it as a breath of prayer.
The living breath of the spirit.
The Great Spirit.
Monsieur Bockweiss,
with this pipe you
can become immortal.
That would be nice,
Monsieur Pasquinel,
but quite candidly, I would
just as soon it made me rich.
Papa?
Oh, I'm sorry. I did not
know you had company.
Oh, it's all right.
You know Doctor Butler.
Ja. Hello, doctor.
Lise.
And this is Monsieur Pasquinel.
My daughter, Lise.
Monsieur.
I guess we should know your
first name, should we not?
I'm sorry.
Don't be. I have none.
Just Pasquinel.
You're from France?
Quebec.
Canada? How fantastic!
I've always been so
curious about Canada.
I hope you will do us the honor
and come to dinner tonight
and tell us all about it.
Thank you, but...
Of course you will.
Lise, take him to the house
and pour him whatever he likes.
The doctor and I
will be right in.
Ja, Papa.
Monsieur?
I only brought him to discuss a
business proposition, Hermann.
But the city has only 500
or 600 men, Richard.
Most of them married and maybe none
of them as strong as that one.
At any rate, if I were a cautious man,
I would not have come to this country.
And if I were not a romantic, I would
not have had such a lovely daughter.
Please sit down.
Merci.
Claret? Fine.
You like the house?
It's grand.
The Chouteau family built it,
but it was...
They wanted something larger.
Larger?
Why would anyone want a
house larger than this?
A house says a lot
about a person.
Merci.
But it doesn't make a
man bigger than he is.
Shall we sit?
Would you be more comfortable
if you were sitting?
No. No, I'm fine.
What brought you to St.
Louis? The river.
I mean, what reason?
Oh, beaver.
You're a trader, then?
Oui.
I should think that would be
a very lonely profession.
Profession? No, no.
It is work.
And when a man works he is
always alone, n'est-ce pas?
Ja.
Ja, I suppose that is true.
Shall we sit?
I would so love to
hear about Canada.
I don't think that you
would like Canada.
No? Why not?
Because they only
have little people.
It's true. Little
people like this.
Everyone.
I am the tallest man
in the whole country.
I do not need to be laughed at.
Cried about, then?
Poor Lise Bockweiss.
The fairest woman in all St.
Louis,
with hair like wild honey,
whose eyes are like
a mountain lake.
What a pity she's so tall.
And that Pasquinel, if
he wants to hold her,
he should take an axe and chop
three or four inches off her legs.
It is fine to be tall. If I were
tall, I would rule the world.
But since I'm not, I am satisfied
to rule where I am at the moment.
Monsieur Pasquinel...
Non. Pasquinel.
No monsieur, no Henri, no Jean Pierre.
Just Pasquinel.
I think I should
look about dinner.
Do you still want me
to stay for dinner?
You were invited.
Oui, but to talk about Canada.
To get where we're going, it
does not matter how we stand.
It matters how we move.
And you, mademoiselle,
you move very well.
So, what do you think, Hermann?
I think it is a
dangerous enterprise.
He must come and go
through how many tribes?
Pawnee, Cheyenne, Arapaho,
Dakota, Comanche, Ute.
Several thousand Indians
and one white man alone.
His chances for survival
cannot be good,
but you think he's worth
the risk of investment.
When I pushed that arrowhead
deeper in his back,
I know it hurt.
And I know a little bit
about pain, Hermann.
A man doesn't learn to bear it like
that without a lot of courage.
I think he'll bring back pelts.
You killed three Pawnee.
I killed three thieves.
And if your braves attack
me now, I kill you.
Two guns. Oui.
For me?
One for the man who
said he was my friend.
Which man speaks to me now?
I sorry we fight last year.
This year we be friends.
Get the other gun.
Now I have two guns.
Bring the red beard.
And two white men.
Parlez-vous français?
Just smile.
You teach them how to shoot yet?
You kill anybody?
This my brother.
My brother.
Regardez.
Regardez.
He says they're brothers.
Do they look like
brothers to you?
If they are brothers,
she is my brother.
He said if you're my
brother, she's his brother.
I speak some Pawnee.
You speak at the
wrong damn time.
I might have made their eyes
believe, but not their ears, too.
Sorry.
The brothers speak
different tongues.
Are the Pawnee and the
Cheyenne brothers?
The Pawnee and the Arapaho? No.
They speak the tongues
of different tribes.
Brothers speak the same tongue.
He said different tribes
speak different tongues.
Since we don't speak the same
tongue, we cannot be brothers.
He lies.
He said... I speak that
much in any language.
No, no. You're the one who lied
when you told me I could
pass in peace last year.
I carry the arrow of
a coward in my back.
A Pawnee arrow.
Now we are brothers.
This is true.
We are brothers like the Arikara
are brothers to the Pawnee.
Different, but from
the same family.
Now, I know you didn't send your
braves to kill me last year.
That is why I came back in
friendship as I promised.
And I brought this to
prove my friendship.
After we smoke it, I will
teach you how to shoot a gun.
We'll bring you more guns next
year if you keep your word.
I understand about family
like the Arikara and Pawnee.
I glad you understand
about last year.
You can travel in Pawnee land.
But for every five pelts you
take, you must give me two.
One.
Last year you said one.
It is still one.
But we will take your pelts to St.
Louis,
get more goods then you
can get on the river. We?
Unless you have a better offer.
Him word good? Same as you?
Same as me.
Maybe I keep him here. Make sure
you come back from St. Louis.
Non. We go together,
we come back together.
How I know for sure?
Because I am Pasquinel.
I come to you unafraid.
Scotland? Aye.
How long?
Oh, a year.
Didn't take you
long to get caught.
I was about to escape.
I could see that.
Bringing the Indian along on the
leash as a guide, were you?
I would have gotten away.
Then I apologize for
spoiling your plans.
No.
No. I owe you my thanks
for saying what you did
without kenning
anything about me.
And I think you should ken
I've killed a man.
How do you ken you'll see the
men who took your pelts?
They went to the Mandans.
They should return now.
Never without an
answer, are you?
Nor you a question.
We camp here three, four days.
No more.
McKEAG: You laughed today.
I hope so.
When I told you what I'd done.
And now you want
to tell me again.
It is a hard thing to live with.
I've never told anyone before.
Do you mind?
I'm not a priest.
I'm not a Catholic.
It was an awful thing.
The reason I left the Highlands.
Had to leave, actually.
You see, he was a laird,
and a tyrant he was,
sinful as the devil himself.
He thought because he owned the land,
he owned the people who worked it, too.
He thought he could do with
them whatever he willed.
Never bothered me
that much, but...
My sister.
Well, if you're a wee
bit of a lass like her,
a man like that is a
hard thing, I suppose.
She never told me before,
mind you, what...
What he'd tried to do to her when
he'd come on her alone a time or two.
When I found him with her,
saw how he was hurting her
and how she was crying...
Well, I just could
not help myself.
I had to get him away from her.
And when he unsheathed his sword, I
lashed out with my walking stick,
a big, knotted thing it was, and I caught
him full force on the side of the head.
And he... He just lay there.
And Meg, she was
crying even harder.
Dear God, it was such
an awful sight to see.
And then I had to leave
because I knew what would
happen if they found me.
Him being a lord and me
just a woodsman's son.
I was sorry for doing it,
and sorry for having
to leave my home
and my family.
But I ken I did the right thing.
Didn't I?
Pasquinel?
McKEAG: How can you tell?
Hmm.
You go. They don't know you.
Hey there, passage to St. Louis?
I have pelts.
Sure. Get your pelts ready.
You did not tell me!
You did not tell me you
were going to kill them!
That's one question
you didn't ask.
But why did you do it?
They tried to kill me last year.
How can you be sure
they were the same men?
The one that was going to crush
your skull with the club, I know,
and the grinning one, he would
have smiled watching it.
I know him and the others.
What? Bad companions
bring bad luck.
It doesn't even turn
your blood a wee bit
to see what those butchering savages are
doing with their hatchets out there?
When they find the boat, no one in St.
Louis will accuse us, will they?
What white man would believe that
another white man would lift his scalp?
Have you?
You're as much a
heathen as they are.
Worse, maybe.
Because you ken the wrong in it.
Do you know where the Indians
learned to take scalps?
From the English.
That's right, from
your fellow Britons.
They paid tribes up north
to bring back scalps to prove
that the enemy had been killed.
And the enemy were
my countrymen.
One was my father.
Now think about this.
The one thing the white
man is most afraid of,
the one thing that has branded
the Indian a "savage"
is a practice invented
by the white man.
You don't think
that's funny, huh?
Well, you won't think
this is funny, either.
You should know, ken,
that the coureur de
bois ends up a scalp.
You perhaps, and me, too.
Whoa, whoa.
Still wobbles.
Wait.
Good as new.
Better.
You never told me how you
were caught by the Pawnee.
I thought you never
asked questions.
I was just wondering if you
were taken by surprise.
Like now.
What?
I think there are only three.
Don't!
I have one arrow in
my back already.
I don't want to start a
collection, n'est-ce pas?
What do we do?
What you always do with Indians.
Get ready to kill or be killed
and hope it doesn't happen.
That'll just make
us better targets.
And let them see our
faces show no fear.
The old man who taught
you the Pawnee,
did he teach you Ute?
No.
The Utes are always
welcome in our camp.
Join us.
You go.
No, we stay.
Trade beaver.
Ute no trade beaver. You go.
Cheyenne trade beaver.
Arapaho trade beaver.
Pawnee trade beaver.
You come, you see, you trade.
No trade.
When sun comes, you be gone.
What do we do now?
Sleep.
Tomorrow
we fight for our trade.
Don't fire.
You were way high both times.
I hit what I wanted.
Yeah, the wind.
If you give an Indian a fair
chance, you can avoid killing.
They're going to charge again.
We'll give them this one
and then they'll be gone.
Years to come they'll sit
around the campfire and talk
about the coup they made
on the two white men
and the whistling lead.
And you'll sit in Scotland and talk
about the tomahawks and lances.
Non!
Get it out.
It will hurt like hellfire.
No question that.
The smell is bad.
Begone with you.
I'm bound to die.
I said begone.
I'm cold.
You need the air.
I tell you I'm dying.
It's rotten.
McKEAG: It's rotten.
You think that will work?
Can you cut it off?
If you have no arm, how
can you fire a gun?
If you cannot fire a
gun, how can you hunt?
If you cannot hunt,
how can you...
You ask too damn many questions.
There are worse places
for a man to die.
You will not die.
I'm sorry, mon ami.
Out here, half a man
is no man at all.
Arapaho!
Pasquinel.
Your gun.
We smoke.
And so, once again, Lame Beaver and
Pasquinel smoked the calumet and talked.
About the Pawnee attack and the Cheyenne
who had saved Pasquinel's life,
and that fateful moment when
each held the other's life
in his hands and didn't take it.
Bad scar.
What?
Aye. Aye bad.
Does it hurt?
Hurt?
It still hurts.
I cannot move my arm
away from my body.
The skin... The
scar is so tight.
You'll use it, though.
By damn, you'll use it.
Same thing, your shoulder.
I don't know. I know.
Use it!
Take your gun, by
damn, and use it!
Why?
You could do the hunting
for the next few weeks.
I could be dead tomorrow!
I'll get more plants.
Can you use this? What?
Can you use this?
Can I use it? Aye, I can use it.
But not with that wound.
My arm?
With my arm this way? No.
No, I cannot shoot now.
Did he wrap your gun this way?
Pasquinel?
Pasquinel, he wrapped it.
Buffalo hide.
Pasquinel, he wrapped your
gun to make it strong.
My shoulder? The same?
Yes. That's what he means.
Pasquinel, he said, "Shoulder."
Aye.
I suppose that is
what he was saying.
I shoot.
You shoot well. Très bien.
Now you load.
Is it dry enough?
We'll soon see.
Lame Beaver just hit
the limb on that tree.
McKEAG: It's still there.
He'll take it off next time.
There won't be a next time.
Flower.
Flower.
How you say in English?
Flower.
Flower? Aye.
A wee braw flower
for a wee braw lassie.
Braw flower? Aye.
Oh, pretty. I suppose
you'd best say pretty.
Pretty? Aye.
Pretty flower. Aye.
If you're going
to learn English,
you'd best learn it the
way the English speak it.
That way people won't be
turning up their nebs at you
like they do at me
from time to time.
Turn up their nebs?
Aye, nebs. Oh, nose. Nose.
You'll learn to call it nose.
Nose.
And these are your ears.
Ears.
And your hair.
Hair.
And your eyes.
Eyes.
Eyes.
And this?
Lips.
Lips.
You're beautiful.
Beautiful?
We'd better get back.
Beautiful.
Means pretty?
Aye.
Like the flower?
You think I'm pretty?
We'd better go.
Red Beard,
I think you pretty, too.
Clay Basket, I...
We have to go.
You teach me more?
I'll teach you more tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
I know tomorrow.
Tomorrow will be beautiful.
Aye.
Aye.
Tomorrow will be beautiful.
Your father is quite a chief.
No. He's not a chief.
Well, he got all those horses
and did all those things
and he's not a chief?
He did not want to be a chief.
Why?
Why isn't he a chief?
Aye. Why isn't he a chief?
He doesn't like feathers.
What? What about feathers?
He doesn't like them.
I don't understand.
A long time ago, my father
got horses for Our People.
Aye, the first horses
for your tribe.
But he could not keep
the horse he wanted.
Why not?
It was given to a chief.
But he got them himself.
You told me, 19 of them.
Aye.
How could the chief take the
horse your father wanted?
He was chief.
Oh, so now your father
won't be chief.
Never. I see.
It isn't the feathers
he doesn't like,
it's the men who wear them.
Tell your mother there are men
like that in every tribe.
And tell her I think your
father is the chief anyway.
A big chief.
Pasquinel.
Tell Pasquinel my heart
is sad to see him leave.
Pasquinel, my father sad you go.
Well, mon ami, I see you have her
English as tongue-tied as your own.
Tell him that I sad to go, but I
come back when the leaves change.
Red Beard, too?
Red Beard, are we partners?
Aye.
They are sad to leave, too, but they will
come back when the leaves change color.
Will they bring their wives?
Ask them!
I don't know how to ask that.
Comprends?
He wants to know
about our wives.
Wives?
If they'll come
with us next time.
No, no, no. My wife,
she stays in Montreal.
Pasquinel, his wife
stays in Montreal.
Montreal? Is it far away?
Far away. Far enough.
Montreal is many miles north.
And you, Red Beard?
I have no wife.
What did he say?
He said he has no wife.
A man must have a wife
to give him the
best gifts of all.
He said a man must have a wife to
give him the best gifts of all.
Tell him he has a
beautiful family
and he should be proud of them.
Your family is beautiful.
Now we go.
Good hunting.
It will be good
because of Pasquinel.
Mon ami.
Six bales, mon ami.
Our share will make us rich men.
Is it true what you said?
Qu'est-que c'est?
About having a wife.
Is she in Montreal?
Non. Detroit.
Even good friends shouldn't know
everything about a man, n'est-ce pas?
All right. No more questions.
Clay Basket.
They will return.
Pasquinel is a brave man.
But I do not believe him,
what he says about his woman.
He will need a good
woman when he returns.
I would welcome him
into my family.
You hoped I would
say the Red Beard?
Yes. No.
It is Pasquinel you will marry.
When I am gone, he
will take care of you.
But Father, you will
not go for many years.
There are many changes.
The Pawnee are trading
for more guns.
The Utes are coming out of the
mountains to live like us,
and these white men,
they're only the first.
More will come to
trade for beaver
and with them they'll
bring change.
What kind of change?
I don't know.
Pasquinel, he will know
and he will protect you.
Pasquinel, he can be trusted.
Make sure Bockweiss
gets these pelts.
Pasquinel!
Joe Bean. Kentucky.
Well, I'm doing all
right, but not that good.
How far up did you get?
La Cache la Poudre.
La Cache la Poudre.
The big mountains?
That's some doing. Any trouble?
Well, there's always
trouble, n'est-ce pas?
In the high mountains
there are the Utes,
but still the worst
are the Pawnee.
That's where I met my
partner on the Missouri.
He was taking on a whole
war party all by himself.
A whole war party?
Nine braves were stealing peltries from
a pirogue called the Sainte-Geneviève.
The Genevieve. I heard tell
another boat picked her up.
All the men had been massacred.
The Pawnee were already
lifting scalps when I saw him
right in the middle
attacking them all.
I dropped three from long
range with my rifle,
but he was right in the
middle with just his knife.
Hand to hand?
By the time I tried to
reload for the fourth,
he had killed the last one.
Regardez. A tomahawk
right there.
And still he continued
fighting with only one hand.
I was wondering why
you partnered up.
I guess that tells
the whole story.
Joe Bean. Kentucky.
What is it they call you?
Alexander McKeag.
Where you from?
Scotland. And La
Cache la Poudre.
Pasquinel!
Whiskey!
Whiskey for my friend
Joe Bean from Kentucky,
and my partner.
Where've you been, Pasquinel?
I've been to the other
end of the river
and now I'm going to
drink my way back.
You Pasquinel?
Pasquinel, oui. What
are you drinking?
Nothing you buy.
Then you're in the wrong place,
because today, I buy
everything this man sells.
Yeah, with blood money.
Do I know you?
I know you.
You're a liar and a coward.
I know we have never met before.
You murdered my brother.
Your brother?
And three good men that
ride the Saint Genevieve.
Oh, The Sainte-Geneviève. It
was attacked by the Pawnee.
Pawnee nothing.
It was you and that
burr-tongued partner of yours.
Why would we attack white men
and scalp them? What for?
You know damned good
and well what for.
My memory fails me. Why
don't you tell me?
Why didn't you wash the furs?
Because what belongs to another
man is of no interest to me.
Now, I want to buy you a drink,
in honor of your brave brother.
And if he was an honest trader,
he was my brother, too.
You go to hell!
In due time.
Joe Bean!
Here is to new profits
and to new partners.
Are you sure you're
completely healed, Alexander?
Aye.
I just can't imagine an
experience like that.
How about you, Pasquinel?
That arrowhead
bother you at all?
No.
What arrowhead?
The one the Pawnee planted
in his back last year.
The one that brought me to the good
doctor and brought us all together.
For many years.
How long could a man survive
in a land like that?
Only the rocks live forever.
What?
It's a saying of the
Indians on the plains.
"Only the rocks live forever."
None of us will live forever,
so it matters not how
long you live, but how.
They tell me you have a
wife in New Orleans.
New Orleans?
This town...
I'd better get back
to the Indians.
Here.
The ingots have melted.
That is how you shape them, huh?
Ja. The molds.
When you're on the plains,
you have a woman there?
An Indian woman?
I mean, I have
heard some men do.
It's a natural thing, I suppose.
I suppose. How
long does it take?
Until they cool.
Tomorrow these will be ready.
So, then, you do not?
What's that?
Oh, the Indian woman? No, no.
McKeag is the only one
who shares my canoe.
He sounds like quite a fellow.
But he does not say
much, though, does he?
That's why I let him
share my canoe.
It seems to me
a man with a good business
like you ought to marry.
What you file off,
you use again?
Ja.
I have been planning
on it again myself.
What's that?
Get married.
Oh.
But a good woman is not
an easy thing to find.
A woman like Lise?
Lise.
Ja, ja, my Lise is a fine woman.
You have noticed, ja?
It'd be hard for a
man not to notice.
I'm glad to hear you say that.
It's easy to say...
You're buffing. Is that right?
Ja.
And these tools here,
they're for the etching?
Ja.
Such small tools
in such big hands.
What you do is
really remarkable.
Pasquinel,
let me be frank.
I sell a piece like this
for a lot of money.
I'm going to be a
very wealthy man.
I can afford to be very
generous with Lise.
I don't understand.
You would have a
fixed home here.
A fixed home is
something, Pasquinel.
Monsieur Bockweiss, why
would Lise want me?
I will never be anything
but what I am, a coureur.
Damn it, do not
play dumb with me.
You know she is interested
in you, and so do I.
Now, I am telling you
that as your partner I
would be very happy to...
That is, should you
at some point in time
wish to join my family,
I would have no
objection whatsoever.
You are a good father, monsieur.
Hermann.
Hermann, you are a good
friend to suggest that
something like that
would be possible.
We could have the wedding before
you go back to the plains.
You said, "In time."
And you said none of
us lives forever.
The Indians know more about
life than any of us maybe, huh?
Huh?
Perhaps.
At the end of the 18th century,
the Indians of the Great Plains
were sovereigns of their world.
The horse had allowed them
to ride into a new life
in the formerly forbidding
heart of the open grasslands.
While Lame Beaver
continued to refuse
all offers to sit
among a council,
he was respected above all
other members of his tribe
because they remembered it was his
courage that first gave them the horse.
A man's wealth and his
family's social standing
were now determined by the
amount of horses he owned.
And every young Indian boy
knew that if he became
a skilled warrior and hunter,
he would acquire many
horses of his own
and live a life of
dignity and respect
like the old man
called Lame Beaver.
Lame Beaver was 53 years old as the
century was drawing to a close.
By the standards of his
time, he was already old.
Not even the new power the gun
brought him as a warrior and hunter
could replace other powers
he would be losing soon.
He knew his time
was almost over,
but he had no way of knowing that
an ancient culture at its zenith
had little more
time left than he.
The Plains Indians of the year
1800 were a contented people.
The horse had been
their salvation,
the buffalo was the basis
of their existence.
From its many parts came almost
everything necessary to daily life.
It provided food, clothing,
shelter, weapons,
and a source of industry that kept
bodies strong and minds healthy.
It was a time to be enjoyed.
There was no need to
worry about the future,
and the young people could
take pride in the past.
Father, tell me
about the horses.
How you were the first
one to get them.
That was a long time ago.
Did you really visit the sun
before you raided the Comanche?
Could a man do something
like that alone?
I wish I could have seen
you bring them into camp.
Was it exciting, Mother?
It was the most exciting
thing we'd ever known.
The bravest thing any
warrior had ever done,
and he was only 17 summers.
He walked far to the south
where the Comanche
were hunting buffalo.
Our people could not follow the
buffalo as far as the other tribes
and we were not as
powerful in war
because we had no horses.
Your father knew that we must get
horses or our tribe would die,
but no other warriors
would go with him
because they knew if they
were caught by the Comanche,
they would die a terrible death.
Man Above, I am one
of Our People.
Help me.
Comanche!
It was so bold and so daring
that even the Comanches
saluted him for his courage.
When I saw him return to camp,
I knew it was the greatest
thing I would ever see.
He had brought the horses
no one else could get,
the horses we could
not go on without.
He had given us our lives.
And I have never known
a prouder moment
than when he put
me on one of them.
The one he would
give to my brother,
so that we could share
a life together.
And you were only 17 summer.
The other braves must have...
We need new lodge poles.
They'll last another season.
They've been dragged for many miles.
They're growing short.
Maybe we could use new ones.
Maybe? Look at them!
We should have traded for them
when we were in the north.
Trade for what, a horse?
I'd never trade a horse.
I'll find poles. The best poles.
What is it?
Are you all right?
Leave me alone.
Blue Leaf.
I'm not angry with you.
Clay Basket thinks it's her
because she asked you
to tell the story.
No. I just broke another tooth.
See?
Does it hurt?
What hurts is getting old.
Each year for you is
another one for me, too.
Remember when we had no horses?
We moved so slowly then,
only with the dogs.
We moved so slowly, and
life seemed so long.
I remember when I was a boy,
I thought I'd never grow old.
I thought I'd never be old
enough to be a warrior.
Sit.
When your body must
work, make it work.
When it needs rest,
give it rest.
Where is the river?
Have you looked around you? Yes.
Then take a second look.
A longer look.
I don't see anything.
What are those?
Just swallows.
That's right.
Just swallows.
But swallows must have water every day.
Doves, too.
So you watch for them.
If their mouths were empty,
they were flying toward water.
If they had mud in them,
they were flying from water.
Do you know which
way the water is?
That way.
You saw the mud in their
mouths from here?
You didn't ask me that.
You only asked if I knew
which way the water is.
Look closely at everything.
Watch the animals to
learn their secret ways.
The deer will teach you how to go
without water for a long time.
The hawk will teach you how to
strike swiftly without missing.
The coyote, how to keep
from being captured.
The rattlesnake, how to
keep from being seen.
Which one teaches you
how to make fire?
Only man.
And he is the most dangerous
animal you will ever know.
More dangerous than
a mountain lion?
Much more. Why?
Because he knows what you know.
That was a long time ago.
A lifetime ago.
You've made my life a good one.
Tomorrow I'll make us the
best tepee in the village.
I'll find poles in
the Blue Mountain.
Poles that are
tall and straight.
The Blue Mountain?
The Utes are there.
I'm not afraid of the Utes.
Just because a man
breaks a tooth
is no reason to change
the way he lives, is it?
No.
There have been Ute
here hunting beaver.
Over there.
We can take them.
We're here for lodge
poles, not scalps.
Is that the man who raided the
Comanche for horses talking?
A man of many coups?
It is a man who lived long enough
to tell the stories himself.
We'll wait here in the
shadows until they leave,
then we'll find our poles
among the tall spruce.
It was in this mountain valley
that Lame Beaver made a discovery
that would have an impact
on the whole world a
half a century later.
But at the time he had no way
of knowing the value other men
might put upon the shining
rocks he held in his hand.
What is it?
Bullets I don't have to melt.
Will you give up trading now?
No, señora.
But with a family...
It's all that I know.
Merci.
Well, perhaps you might
learn to be a silversmith.
After all, we have the finest
teacher here in St. Louis.
He would make a good pupil.
But I cannot get him interested.
Because it's a talent
that I don't have.
Señor, you must have a
very special talent.
Lise could have chosen any man
in the city and she chose you.
Because she wanted
someone to look up to.
Papa.
Excuse me, Pasquinel. Oui.
I'll be right back.
Alexander, will you
dance with me?
Oh, I cannot dance.
I will teach you.
It is my wedding.
Monsieur Pasquinel?
Oui?
I say it is very exciting to know
you are civilizing the Indians.
Civilizing them?
Well, I pray to God I'm
never guilty of that.
But that is what you do, is it not?
No, no.
You introduce them to our ways?
I am a trader. Gracias.
I trade beaver, madame.
Surely you are too modest.
You must admit that you are
an emissary for our cultures.
And if the Indian is to learn,
he must learn from
men like yourself.
Monsieur, you may ask my
father-in-law, I am not...
I'm not a modest man.
But there is nothing I can teach
the Indian that he needs to know.
Why is that?
Because he lives with nature.
He's been taught to
become a part of nature.
Yes, but still they are
totally uneducated.
No, no, no.
Uneducated in our world,
but not in theirs.
Well, are they so different?
What time is it?
The time, do you have it?
It is ten of four.
Is that important to you?
Is that important to any of you?
Well, I thought you asked.
I did. But an Indian wouldn't.
He has no clocks because he sees
no need to schedule his life.
And he does not believe that
what a man does in a day
by so many hours is a real
measure of his worth.
No, no. He does what he does.
It takes as long as it takes,
and no one does it
better than the Indian.
No, no one here can teach the Indian
anything that is important to him.
You may be forgetting
one thing, my son.
They are heathens.
They build no churches,
they write no sacred books,
but everything about the Indians
centers around his religion.
A pagan religion.
Sacrifices, bloodletting.
Didn't Christ himself
die on the cross,
and wasn't that God's will?
That was a unique
act, Pasquinel.
To save the world.
Theirs is a unique world.
It needs no saving.
Just relax.
I cannot. Of course you can.
Just glide with the music
and listen to the rhythm.
I'm sorry, I cannot.
All right, Alexander.
Oh, thank you.
To friendship.
Did Pasquinel tell you
that there would always be
a room here for you whenever
you are in St. Louis?
Oh, no, I...
That's one "no" I will not accept
from you, Alexander McKeag.
Our home is your home.
Unless you have plans of your own
you're not telling us about.
No.
No, you will not
accept our offer?
Or no, you have no
plans of your own?
No, I... I mean, I...
Alexander, I think there's
something you're keeping from us.
No.
There must be someone somewhere.
Well...
I knew it.
Here or in Scotland?
Here.
In St. Louis? No.
Where then?
Can you keep a secret?
Forever. Me, too.
Alexander, that's not fair.
It's just I don't suppose I
should be telling others
till I've had a chance
to tell her first.
That's fair.
And I know whoever she is,
she'll be as happy
as I am today.
I'd better go rescue Pasquinel.
He takes a bit of that
from time to time.
Now he will have both of
us to take after him.
Is it true they have
more than one wife?
Señora?
I've heard they keep more than one wife.
Is that true?
If they need them,
and if the woman
needs a husband.
And if the other wives
are happy for it.
They work hard.
More hands makes
the work easier.
I don't know. I don't think I
understand that kind of thinking.
People understand what
they want to understand.
Like me.
I don't understand why you're
dancing with that skinny Scotman
when you could be
dancing with me.
Regardez, McKeag, regardez.
Fascinating man.
Why? Because he fights Indians?
Because he understands them.
He should, my dear. He's
part Indian himself.
Oh, yes. Didn't you know? He's Mandan.
He's from Montreal.
By the way, I have heard that
he has a wife there, too.
Do you know why they
dance in a circle?
When I was little, I thought it
was to keep warm by the fire.
All of life is a circle.
The dancers start
there, the south,
which represents the source
from which we are born.
Then we move to the
left, through youth,
toward the sunset in the west.
And night falls as we draw
close to the cold north,
where the white hairs are.
To show us that all life is
night and day, good and bad.
Father, I know.
If we live on, we find the
source of light to the east,
and with it we find
understanding.
The understanding that teaches us
now to prepare for the end of life.
Then we return to
where we began.
Giving back our
life to all life,
our flesh to where
it started from.
Think about this.
And the more you think about it, the
more meaning you'll find in it.
Mother?
St. Louis ends here.
We've said goodbye.
I know, but...
Make certain this old
man keeps working.
I'm going to make him a god.
God Bockweiss, who makes
his silver pipes in heaven
but only for Pasquinel.
I will be working.
Come back.
I always come back.
Bonjour, mon ami.
It looks like a great
year for beaver.
Are you all right?
I did not think I
would feel this way.
I think that is natural.
Especially now, since you're
going to be a grandfather.
What? What?
That's wonderful.
Does he know?
I could not tell him. Lise.
I want him back.
He should not be going.
He will always be going. Do
you not know that, Papa?
If he has a family...
He'll always be going.
That is what he
is, what he does.
I do not want to change that.
I've heard there were
others who have tried.
Those are unfounded rumors.
They are lies.
Perhaps.
All I know is that I love him
and I want him to know how much.
If he comes back and sees I
did not try to stop him,
I think he will know.
I want you to know
I do not understand
that kind of thinking.
Maybe we only understand what we
want to understand, huh, Papa?
Lame Beaver.
I'll get you, Lame Beaver.
I used to watch your mother
on mornings like this.
You're even more beautiful
than she was then.
I don't think so.
No, this is my work. Not today.
Have I ever told you why
we named you Clay Basket?
Many times.
We were in the north,
following the bison.
A Dakota trader brought out a
splendid basket made by a Cree.
It looked like it was woven, but it was
made of clay. And your mother loved it.
She wanted it above
all other things.
Father, I know the story.
You must not forget it.
You must not forget that
I bought that basket
for your mother
with a bison robe.
A robe she'd worked on for
many months to make it soft.
It was a good robe,
and I traded it for the basket.
The clay basket your mother loved
so much and for which you're named.
Father... And all the
other stories, too.
The ones your mother painted
on the robe for me,
the ones we told you
about our life together,
about the wild duck that
lived in the cottonwoods,
and the tame elk that stayed
in the camp in the north,
and all the other stories.
You must not forget
them, or they will die.
Father, where's Mother?
I've looked for her.
She's gone to be alone.
Why?
To think.
To make herself ready.
Oh, no.
That's why you told me again
about the dance, too, isn't it?
You are my child.
You must remember everything,
or your children will never
know how it was with us.
You're going to war?
The Pawnee have stolen a child.
She must be returned.
Let the young men go.
The young men are
afraid of the Pawnee.
You can't go.
The girl may be dead. Why
should you die, too?
We must know.
And the Pawnee must know
that Our People will not
let them do such things to us.
Father... If I've
been a good father,
you know the end must
come for us all.
And you remember what I said
about the white man Pasquinel.
When I'm gone, he'll
take care of you.
You don't have to go.
What about Mother?
Who'll take care
of her if you go?
Your mother is a woman.
She knows her end as
well as I know mine.
Oh, Father.
Who is Man Above?
Man Above is a creator.
Higher than all people
and all the universe.
He has no beginning and no end.
Is he good?
He is all good.
Then why do we fight other men?
Because there is
evil in men, too.
You pray every morning?
Our tepees face the morning sun
to remind us we must
give thanks every day.
What if there's no
reason to give thanks?
Then the fault is in yourself.
I'll pray with you tomorrow.
No.
You must meet the morning sun
and the great silence alone.
It prepares your mind
to face the day.
It makes you thoughtful
in all things.
Man Above,
I have done all I can do.
The charge will be
heaviest there.
I will wait there for the
great chief Rude Water
and I will shoot him dead.
The Pawnee will panic,
and we'll have the girl.
Go now. Man Above is with us.
Go!
Mother, your things.
They are mine no more.
Your basket!
Get away!
Burial.
Up there?
So the spirit can escape into
the wind and the clouds.
He was a great warrior.
How do you know?
The ponytail.
They kill a great
man's favorite horse
so his spirit won't
have to walk.
The stake and the thongs.
He died in combat,
as brave a death as possible.
McKEAG: And it just stays
up there like that?
Nature will claim it in time.
As she does everything.
Mother.
Mother.
Mother?
Mother.
You don't have to stay out here.
It must be.
There's room on my robe
in your brother's tepee.
He did not ask me in, and
it's not your right to ask.
He won't want you
to stay out here.
He has no choice.
I do.
And I'm staying with
you wherever you are.
No, sweet one.
You have a life to live.
And mine is over.
He didn't have to kill
himself that way.
He didn't have to
leave you like this.
We talked.
I knew what would come.
It was this way for
my mother, too.
But why?
It makes no sense.
Does it make more sense
for us to grow old
and burden those who need
their strength to survive?
I can't leave you.
I won't leave you.
You must stay warm and
you must stay well.
And when the white man comes,
you must go with him
as your father said.
And you must have his children,
and you must remember
all the stories
so they will know who they are.
You remember who you are.
You are the daughter
of a very brave man.
A man of many coups.
He was a fool.
He was what I said.
And what you will say to your
children and they to theirs.
In that way,
he will go on living
and bring meaning to
their lives as well.
That's all we can ever do.
Any of us.
Yes, Mother.
Yes.
Rude Water dead.
Dead? How?
Arapaho make war.
Big devil Lame Beaver
stake self out,
shoot Rude Water.
Lame Beaver? What
happened to him?
We kill him.
But his medicine strong. He
count many coup before he died.
That scaffold by the river.
How long ago this fight?
Just before snow.
Not long.
We should have started earlier.
You think you could've stopped them?
I could've tried.
You give Lame Beaver gun?
I trade gun for beaver.
Same as Rude Water.
You trade yellow bullets, too?
Yellow bullets?
Only reason Lame Beaver
kill Rude Water.
Well, that looks like...
It is.
Mother.
Mother?
Mother?
Mother?
Go back.
Back.
Bonjour, mon ami.
Another long night
for you, too, huh?
Sweet savior.
Damn.
It's Blue Leaf.
How could that happen?
What's she doing out here?
She is no longer the
wife of a warrior.
She has no right to
a tepee of her own.
What? It's their law.
Without a son or a brother
willing to take her in,
she has no home.
She is allowed to keep is
what she has on her back.
That's bloody inhuman!
She knew it would happen.
What about her daughter?
Oui, the girl, she would know.
Know? About the gold. Where
her father found it.
That's not what I meant. I
meant what did they do to her?
She is young and strong, she'll bear
the grandchildren of a great warrior.
She'll have plenty
of men after her.
She could even have
a husband already.
What should we do with her?
Leave her.
They will lay her to rest with
her sewing kit and awl cases
like they did him
with the weapons.
Let's find the girl.
What's her name?
Clay Basket. Oui, Clay Basket.
She is with my father now.
It is good.
And you?
You're all right?
Aye.
Clay Basket,
I gave your father the gun.
Do you know where
he got his bullets?
Pasquinel.
Ask her.
Do you know where your father
got the bullets for his gun?
Bullets?
Aye.
Where? Ask her where.
I make.
You? You made the bullets?
Bullets.
Aye. I make bullets.
The yellow ones?
Yellow? Like these.
No. But they came from the gun.
My father's gun? Oui.
They came from your father's gun.
Where did he get them?
I not see.
I not know. But he say to me...
Oui? He said?
He just told her how
much it meant to him
and to the tribe for you
to give him the gun.
That's all?
That's all he said to you?
He told me you would come back.
He told her we'd come back.
And when you did, he wanted me to go
with you, if it pleases you, Pasquinel.
What?
He told me it would make him proud
if I would belong to Pasquinel.
What did she say?
McKeag?
He told her he wanted
her to go with you.
Avec moi?
To be your wife.
Pasquinel, I wonder...
I mean, since you're already...
I mean, since there's no way...
Mon ami, I don't think you
understood what she said.
Her father told her
to go with me.
He know I would take care of her.
I heard.
But Bockweiss asked you first...
Bockweiss is in St. Louis.
What about Lise?
He'll take care of her. He
will always take care of her.
Tell her I am proud to
have her for my wife.
For the gold, you mean.
That's it, isn't it? The gold.
You think she knows where it is.
Tell her.
Pasquinel, he doesn't want me?
Pasquinel says you
make him proud.
Red Beard?
Aye?
Arm good?
Aye. My arm is fine.
The Indians said,
"Pasquinel, he can be trusted."
It came to be a passport of
safety for the coureur de bois
and his partner
Alexander McKeag.
But McKeag began to wonder how much the
Indians had really known about Pasquinel.
Had they confused
courage with honor?
Still, the young
Scot could not leave
the only friend he'd ever known
and the only woman
he'd ever wanted.
He only knew one
thing for certain.
It would be a hard winter.
And those peaks are part of a majestic
mountain range we call the Rockies.
Granite giants that have been
a part of this land forever,
that symbolize our nation's
strength and freedom.
I suppose my primary reason for
writing the book Centennial
was to ask us, you and me,
if we're aware of what's happening
right now to this land we love,
this earth we depend
upon for life.
It's a novel, of course,
and its characters and
scenes are imaginary.
But there were French
trappers from Canada,
like the man who called
himself Pasquinel.
There were mountain men from Scotland
like the man named Alexander McKeag.
There was a silversmith in St.
Louis like Hermann Bockweiss,
an Army officer
like Maxwell Mercy,
a militia commander
like Frank Skimmerhorn,
a Texas trail boss like R.J.
Poteet,
and certain background incidents
and characters are real.
In the 1820s and '30s, the
mountain men did hold
an annual rendezvous
in the Rockies.
In 1851, there was a great
convocation at Fort Laramie
that saw 10,000 Indians gather to
approve a treaty with our government.
In 1864, there was a massacre
that is to this day one of our
nation's greatest tragedies.
And the same decade did see the great
longhorn trail drives north from Texas.
The cattle would bring
a need for a town.
A town like the one
I call Centennial.
This is the story of that town.
It's a big story
about the people who helped
make this country what it is,
and the land that makes
the people what they are.
And it's a story about time.
Not just as a record,
but also a reminder.
A reminder that during the few
years allotted to each of us,
we are the guardians
of the earth.
We are, at once, the
custodians of our heritage,
and the caretakers
of our future.
Stay with us for the great
adventure of the American West.
When the Earth was
already ancient,
of an age
incomprehensible to man,
an event of basic importance
occurred in the area
which would later be
known as Colorado.
One billion, seven hundred
million years ago,
an irresistible power broke through the
crust of the Earth to form a basement rock.
That rock would endure
to this very day.
Upon it would be built the
subsequent mountains.
Across it would
wander the rivers.
Brawling, undisciplined,
violent arteries of life
that are part of an endless cycle
of building up and tearing down,
of stripping away old deposits
and laying down new rock,
using the same material
again and again.
By the year 15,000 B.C.,
the major characteristics
of the land around what was to become
Centennial were fairly well determined.
Some miles northwest
was a chalk cliff,
beds of limestone infinitely
older than the Rockies.
To the west and slightly to the
south was a gemlike mountain valley
where nuggets of gold had been raked from
the crevices of the rocks by a glacier
and hidden at the
bottom of a stream.
Another special place
was on the western bank
of a wandering, muddy stream
where Centennial was to be.
A small underwater cave that
might never have been found
except for a murder committed over
11,000 years after its creation.
And finally there is the river.
A sad, bewildered
nothing of a river,
a sand bottom of
wandering afterthought.
Its name is as flat
as its appearance.
The South Platte.
Yet for a while it was
the highway of empire.
It was the course of
stirring adventure
and the means whereby
the adventurers lived.
And so the stage is set,
the land has become a
home for living things.
One of the most loveable and
stubborn of all creatures
came to thrive in the
streams of Colorado.
One of the most deadly and terrifying
took refuge in its rocky sanctuaries.
The horse returned to the vast plains
that were its place of origin.
And a version of the
bison trekked from Asia
to roam the area that would
one day be Centennial.
This shaggy beast would become the center
of culture for the American Indian,
a nomadic people that migrated
from Asia 12,000 years ago
and stayed to develop a
primitive social order
and a deep appreciation
of the land.
In the year 1756,
a sliver group of a tribe, who referred
to themselves only as Our People,
faced a major crisis.
The Indians surrounding
them had horses,
making them more mobile in their
hunting and more powerful in war.
War between the various
tribes on the plains was
a kind of dangerous game that
seldom resulted in death.
What was important was
a display of courage.
Bravery was shown by touching or
striking an enemy with hand or weapon,
a practice later to be
known as counting coup.
But the bravest act of all
was for a warrior to stake
himself out to face his enemy.
Held to the ground by bison
thongs and his own pledge
to fight so long as
his strength lasted.
Because of its bold
disdain for the enemy,
this act would almost certainly
end in the warrior's death
and was practiced only under
desperate conditions.
For Our People, the year
1756 was such a time,
because they had no horses and they knew
they could not survive long without them.
My father...
I am your father.
My real father, where is he?
He is not coming.
Why? Where is he?
Listen to me.
Only the rocks live forever.
Only the rocks live forever.
Gray Wolf. My father.
I am your father now.
This young Indian was nine years old
when he first encountered death.
It was a thing he
could not fathom,
but he would learn to
face it without fear.
You didn't get any horses? No.
Then my father died for nothing.
Sun-at-Noon staked himself out.
He counted many coup.
I am proud he was my brother.
You can be proud he
was your father.
And we should both hope
to die such a death.
Only the rocks live forever.
He was called Lame Beaver,
and he was destined to
become a great leader
at a time when a force the
Indian could not imagine
was moving slowly
inexorably toward him.
A force that would change
his way of life forever.
As the century was
drawing to a close,
Lame Beaver had lived half of it
and seen many things,
and now he had been told
that he would see a god.
He's no god. He's a man.
He moves more like a bison,
like he owns the prairie.
And the wolves ran from him.
Maybe they're fresh
from another kill.
Maybe they had reason to fear him.
His skin is different.
Ute skin is different, too.
He's a man. We should
talk with him. No.
He must have killed many
Pawnee to get here.
He may kill us if we go to him.
We'll wait till dark, then we'll
see what his medicine is.
It was but one of many
coups for Lame Beaver,
but it was the beginning
of a new era.
In that moment of mutual
terror and trust,
a treaty was ratified between
the Indian and the white man.
A treaty that would change forever the
nature of life in the American West.
He was a coureur de bois.
One who runs in the woods.
A small, powerful Frenchman who
wore the red knitted cap of Quebec
and called himself Pasquinel.
He brought with him
blankets from Canada,
bright cloths from New Orleans,
silver from Germany
and beads from Paris.
With the coming of spring, he had
traded goods with the Arapaho,
the name by which the other
tribes referred to Our People.
He pressed his pelts into bales
weighing 100 pounds each.
And through that ingenious,
silent language of the plains
that is older than
speech itself,
Lame Beaver let him know that
he was welcome to come again.
He also let the trader know the gift he would
most like to have next time was a gun.
For he had seen
its awesome power
and knew it was the
weapon of the future.
And the white man agreed
to bring him one.
Then the Arapaho warned
him about the Pawnee.
Pasquinel had crossed their
land in safety coming in,
but the Arapaho insisted they would not
let him leave with anything of value.
Not even his life.
Heading eastward, he found
the river impassable
and was forced to
portage his pelts.
Selecting a hiding
place for his canoe
among a stand of cottonwoods
near the river's edge,
he covered it with brush
and set out on foot
to carry the first two
of his 100-pound bales
the distance of
over seven miles.
Satisfied that the bales
were properly concealed,
he calculated the hours
of daylight remaining
and turned back into the heart of Pawnee
territory for the rest of his pelts.
You come.
I follow.
I, Rude Water.
Pasquinel.
Gun?
Oui. Gun.
Like Lame Beaver, Rude
Water's primary interest
was in the weapon
the trader carried.
The Pawnee had met
white men before,
spoke some of their language,
and knew well the
power of the gun.
You come from where?
St. Louis.
St. Louis where sun rise.
I was with Lame Beaver.
How long you with Lame Beaver?
Your people must have told
you when I came through.
I saw them follow me.
You stay long time. Why?
Trade beaver.
Trade gun?
Non.
Trade bracelets and beads.
For you.
And your wife.
I have four wife.
You smart man.
We be friends, Pasquinel.
You give me gun, we
be good friends.
No. I need gun.
I could take.
Not if you're my friend.
And not if you want to
learn how to use the gun.
You smart man.
Next time you come,
you bring me gun.
The gun is worth many beaver.
We have plenty beaver.
I bring gun.
The reception and the
parting were so friendly
that Pasquinel knew Lame
Beaver's words were true.
He would have to fight.
By damn, he's
stubborn, the Pawnee.
Pawnee.
Cheyenne.
Pull it out.
No!
I will do it.
Bite.
The tip has caught on bone.
I cannot work it free.
Push it in, twist it and pull.
You would die.
Then cut it off
beneath the skin.
All the Cheyenne will
hear of Pasquinel.
Beaver! Much beaver!
We trade. You trade gun?
Trade? Yeah, sure. We trade gun.
These my peltries! They
stole them from me!
Get the rest of those pelts.
Sink those canoes.
His canoe, his rifle, his store of
goods, and his pelts were gone.
After two years of work,
all he had was a
knife on his hip
and an arrowhead in his back.
It's lodged in bone, all right.
The shaft's cut off
well below the surface.
Hurt?
Non.
That?
Non.
I can move it.
But if you can stand
that kind of pain,
it's not doing any damage,
I'd leave it alone.
Will you be going back?
As soon as I can find a
license holder to supply me.
To the Pawnee?
I have no war with the Pawnee.
Just the pirates.
Thank you, Doctor.
I'll pay you as soon as I find
someone to finance my next round.
Tell me, what's it
like out there?
Violent.
There is a wind that
never seems to stop.
Sometimes you swear
you are going insane.
And storms like you
have never seen,
screeching and booming
with their thunder.
And hail. Hail the
size of hen eggs.
They can kill whole
flights of birds.
In the spring, tornadoes that tear
apart everything in their path.
And in the winter,
snow squalls that kill
everything that is unprepared.
And in between the
storms, it falls silent.
So quiet you are certain
you are going mad
and you pray for the
storms to come back again.
And then when they come back again,
you pray for them to stop again.
I tell you, it is a land
fit only for the savages,
and you have seen
what they are like.
But I have seen worse.
I have seen much worse.
They are very curious how
slowly a man can die.
And if you survive the Indians and
the elements, there are the animals.
Wolves that run in whole packs,
and snakes that
strike from me to you
and plant their fangs
to pump their poison.
You find that amusing, monsieur?
Just wondering why
you're going back.
Because I am a simple
man, monsieur.
Without a profession,
without an education,
I know only the woods.
You know what I think?
Qu'est-ce que c'est?
I think you found a treasure.
A treasure?
What they fought for in France.
What my people fought
for in the colonies.
Freedom.
Do you know what I think? What?
I think that you are more
dangerous than the Pawnee.
Talk like that could
change everything.
I wish I could go with you.
I'm glad you think you cannot.
Perhaps... What?
I have a patient, a
merchant, a silversmith,
who has a trading license
with the governor.
Oui?
Well, I was just thinking that perhaps
we three could form a partnership.
He's just recently from Munich.
His name is Bockweiss.
Hermann Bockweiss.
You like it?
If I were a Cheyenne chief, I
could not live without it.
That is what I want to hear.
You see, Richard?
This is a man who
knows good work.
I know nothing about silver
but I know the Indian.
And you cannot make
enough of this.
And this, and this,
and that
is the pièce de résistance.
Do you know the
meaning of the pipe?
It's smoked for peace, isn't it?
And war.
And anything between men
that needs to be sanctified.
To many tribes on the plains,
this is their most
sacred possession.
They believe that the pipe gives them
a communion with the spirit world.
When they exhale the smoke, they
see it as a breath of prayer.
The living breath of the spirit.
The Great Spirit.
Monsieur Bockweiss,
with this pipe you
can become immortal.
That would be nice,
Monsieur Pasquinel,
but quite candidly, I would
just as soon it made me rich.
Papa?
Oh, I'm sorry. I did not
know you had company.
Oh, it's all right.
You know Doctor Butler.
Ja. Hello, doctor.
Lise.
And this is Monsieur Pasquinel.
My daughter, Lise.
Monsieur.
I guess we should know your
first name, should we not?
I'm sorry.
Don't be. I have none.
Just Pasquinel.
You're from France?
Quebec.
Canada? How fantastic!
I've always been so
curious about Canada.
I hope you will do us the honor
and come to dinner tonight
and tell us all about it.
Thank you, but...
Of course you will.
Lise, take him to the house
and pour him whatever he likes.
The doctor and I
will be right in.
Ja, Papa.
Monsieur?
I only brought him to discuss a
business proposition, Hermann.
But the city has only 500
or 600 men, Richard.
Most of them married and maybe none
of them as strong as that one.
At any rate, if I were a cautious man,
I would not have come to this country.
And if I were not a romantic, I would
not have had such a lovely daughter.
Please sit down.
Merci.
Claret? Fine.
You like the house?
It's grand.
The Chouteau family built it,
but it was...
They wanted something larger.
Larger?
Why would anyone want a
house larger than this?
A house says a lot
about a person.
Merci.
But it doesn't make a
man bigger than he is.
Shall we sit?
Would you be more comfortable
if you were sitting?
No. No, I'm fine.
What brought you to St.
Louis? The river.
I mean, what reason?
Oh, beaver.
You're a trader, then?
Oui.
I should think that would be
a very lonely profession.
Profession? No, no.
It is work.
And when a man works he is
always alone, n'est-ce pas?
Ja.
Ja, I suppose that is true.
Shall we sit?
I would so love to
hear about Canada.
I don't think that you
would like Canada.
No? Why not?
Because they only
have little people.
It's true. Little
people like this.
Everyone.
I am the tallest man
in the whole country.
I do not need to be laughed at.
Cried about, then?
Poor Lise Bockweiss.
The fairest woman in all St.
Louis,
with hair like wild honey,
whose eyes are like
a mountain lake.
What a pity she's so tall.
And that Pasquinel, if
he wants to hold her,
he should take an axe and chop
three or four inches off her legs.
It is fine to be tall. If I were
tall, I would rule the world.
But since I'm not, I am satisfied
to rule where I am at the moment.
Monsieur Pasquinel...
Non. Pasquinel.
No monsieur, no Henri, no Jean Pierre.
Just Pasquinel.
I think I should
look about dinner.
Do you still want me
to stay for dinner?
You were invited.
Oui, but to talk about Canada.
To get where we're going, it
does not matter how we stand.
It matters how we move.
And you, mademoiselle,
you move very well.
So, what do you think, Hermann?
I think it is a
dangerous enterprise.
He must come and go
through how many tribes?
Pawnee, Cheyenne, Arapaho,
Dakota, Comanche, Ute.
Several thousand Indians
and one white man alone.
His chances for survival
cannot be good,
but you think he's worth
the risk of investment.
When I pushed that arrowhead
deeper in his back,
I know it hurt.
And I know a little bit
about pain, Hermann.
A man doesn't learn to bear it like
that without a lot of courage.
I think he'll bring back pelts.
You killed three Pawnee.
I killed three thieves.
And if your braves attack
me now, I kill you.
Two guns. Oui.
For me?
One for the man who
said he was my friend.
Which man speaks to me now?
I sorry we fight last year.
This year we be friends.
Get the other gun.
Now I have two guns.
Bring the red beard.
And two white men.
Parlez-vous français?
Just smile.
You teach them how to shoot yet?
You kill anybody?
This my brother.
My brother.
Regardez.
Regardez.
He says they're brothers.
Do they look like
brothers to you?
If they are brothers,
she is my brother.
He said if you're my
brother, she's his brother.
I speak some Pawnee.
You speak at the
wrong damn time.
I might have made their eyes
believe, but not their ears, too.
Sorry.
The brothers speak
different tongues.
Are the Pawnee and the
Cheyenne brothers?
The Pawnee and the Arapaho? No.
They speak the tongues
of different tribes.
Brothers speak the same tongue.
He said different tribes
speak different tongues.
Since we don't speak the same
tongue, we cannot be brothers.
He lies.
He said... I speak that
much in any language.
No, no. You're the one who lied
when you told me I could
pass in peace last year.
I carry the arrow of
a coward in my back.
A Pawnee arrow.
Now we are brothers.
This is true.
We are brothers like the Arikara
are brothers to the Pawnee.
Different, but from
the same family.
Now, I know you didn't send your
braves to kill me last year.
That is why I came back in
friendship as I promised.
And I brought this to
prove my friendship.
After we smoke it, I will
teach you how to shoot a gun.
We'll bring you more guns next
year if you keep your word.
I understand about family
like the Arikara and Pawnee.
I glad you understand
about last year.
You can travel in Pawnee land.
But for every five pelts you
take, you must give me two.
One.
Last year you said one.
It is still one.
But we will take your pelts to St.
Louis,
get more goods then you
can get on the river. We?
Unless you have a better offer.
Him word good? Same as you?
Same as me.
Maybe I keep him here. Make sure
you come back from St. Louis.
Non. We go together,
we come back together.
How I know for sure?
Because I am Pasquinel.
I come to you unafraid.
Scotland? Aye.
How long?
Oh, a year.
Didn't take you
long to get caught.
I was about to escape.
I could see that.
Bringing the Indian along on the
leash as a guide, were you?
I would have gotten away.
Then I apologize for
spoiling your plans.
No.
No. I owe you my thanks
for saying what you did
without kenning
anything about me.
And I think you should ken
I've killed a man.
How do you ken you'll see the
men who took your pelts?
They went to the Mandans.
They should return now.
Never without an
answer, are you?
Nor you a question.
We camp here three, four days.
No more.
McKEAG: You laughed today.
I hope so.
When I told you what I'd done.
And now you want
to tell me again.
It is a hard thing to live with.
I've never told anyone before.
Do you mind?
I'm not a priest.
I'm not a Catholic.
It was an awful thing.
The reason I left the Highlands.
Had to leave, actually.
You see, he was a laird,
and a tyrant he was,
sinful as the devil himself.
He thought because he owned the land,
he owned the people who worked it, too.
He thought he could do with
them whatever he willed.
Never bothered me
that much, but...
My sister.
Well, if you're a wee
bit of a lass like her,
a man like that is a
hard thing, I suppose.
She never told me before,
mind you, what...
What he'd tried to do to her when
he'd come on her alone a time or two.
When I found him with her,
saw how he was hurting her
and how she was crying...
Well, I just could
not help myself.
I had to get him away from her.
And when he unsheathed his sword, I
lashed out with my walking stick,
a big, knotted thing it was, and I caught
him full force on the side of the head.
And he... He just lay there.
And Meg, she was
crying even harder.
Dear God, it was such
an awful sight to see.
And then I had to leave
because I knew what would
happen if they found me.
Him being a lord and me
just a woodsman's son.
I was sorry for doing it,
and sorry for having
to leave my home
and my family.
But I ken I did the right thing.
Didn't I?
Pasquinel?
McKEAG: How can you tell?
Hmm.
You go. They don't know you.
Hey there, passage to St. Louis?
I have pelts.
Sure. Get your pelts ready.
You did not tell me!
You did not tell me you
were going to kill them!
That's one question
you didn't ask.
But why did you do it?
They tried to kill me last year.
How can you be sure
they were the same men?
The one that was going to crush
your skull with the club, I know,
and the grinning one, he would
have smiled watching it.
I know him and the others.
What? Bad companions
bring bad luck.
It doesn't even turn
your blood a wee bit
to see what those butchering savages are
doing with their hatchets out there?
When they find the boat, no one in St.
Louis will accuse us, will they?
What white man would believe that
another white man would lift his scalp?
Have you?
You're as much a
heathen as they are.
Worse, maybe.
Because you ken the wrong in it.
Do you know where the Indians
learned to take scalps?
From the English.
That's right, from
your fellow Britons.
They paid tribes up north
to bring back scalps to prove
that the enemy had been killed.
And the enemy were
my countrymen.
One was my father.
Now think about this.
The one thing the white
man is most afraid of,
the one thing that has branded
the Indian a "savage"
is a practice invented
by the white man.
You don't think
that's funny, huh?
Well, you won't think
this is funny, either.
You should know, ken,
that the coureur de
bois ends up a scalp.
You perhaps, and me, too.
Whoa, whoa.
Still wobbles.
Wait.
Good as new.
Better.
You never told me how you
were caught by the Pawnee.
I thought you never
asked questions.
I was just wondering if you
were taken by surprise.
Like now.
What?
I think there are only three.
Don't!
I have one arrow in
my back already.
I don't want to start a
collection, n'est-ce pas?
What do we do?
What you always do with Indians.
Get ready to kill or be killed
and hope it doesn't happen.
That'll just make
us better targets.
And let them see our
faces show no fear.
The old man who taught
you the Pawnee,
did he teach you Ute?
No.
The Utes are always
welcome in our camp.
Join us.
You go.
No, we stay.
Trade beaver.
Ute no trade beaver. You go.
Cheyenne trade beaver.
Arapaho trade beaver.
Pawnee trade beaver.
You come, you see, you trade.
No trade.
When sun comes, you be gone.
What do we do now?
Sleep.
Tomorrow
we fight for our trade.
Don't fire.
You were way high both times.
I hit what I wanted.
Yeah, the wind.
If you give an Indian a fair
chance, you can avoid killing.
They're going to charge again.
We'll give them this one
and then they'll be gone.
Years to come they'll sit
around the campfire and talk
about the coup they made
on the two white men
and the whistling lead.
And you'll sit in Scotland and talk
about the tomahawks and lances.
Non!
Get it out.
It will hurt like hellfire.
No question that.
The smell is bad.
Begone with you.
I'm bound to die.
I said begone.
I'm cold.
You need the air.
I tell you I'm dying.
It's rotten.
McKEAG: It's rotten.
You think that will work?
Can you cut it off?
If you have no arm, how
can you fire a gun?
If you cannot fire a
gun, how can you hunt?
If you cannot hunt,
how can you...
You ask too damn many questions.
There are worse places
for a man to die.
You will not die.
I'm sorry, mon ami.
Out here, half a man
is no man at all.
Arapaho!
Pasquinel.
Your gun.
We smoke.
And so, once again, Lame Beaver and
Pasquinel smoked the calumet and talked.
About the Pawnee attack and the Cheyenne
who had saved Pasquinel's life,
and that fateful moment when
each held the other's life
in his hands and didn't take it.
Bad scar.
What?
Aye. Aye bad.
Does it hurt?
Hurt?
It still hurts.
I cannot move my arm
away from my body.
The skin... The
scar is so tight.
You'll use it, though.
By damn, you'll use it.
Same thing, your shoulder.
I don't know. I know.
Use it!
Take your gun, by
damn, and use it!
Why?
You could do the hunting
for the next few weeks.
I could be dead tomorrow!
I'll get more plants.
Can you use this? What?
Can you use this?
Can I use it? Aye, I can use it.
But not with that wound.
My arm?
With my arm this way? No.
No, I cannot shoot now.
Did he wrap your gun this way?
Pasquinel?
Pasquinel, he wrapped it.
Buffalo hide.
Pasquinel, he wrapped your
gun to make it strong.
My shoulder? The same?
Yes. That's what he means.
Pasquinel, he said, "Shoulder."
Aye.
I suppose that is
what he was saying.
I shoot.
You shoot well. Très bien.
Now you load.
Is it dry enough?
We'll soon see.
Lame Beaver just hit
the limb on that tree.
McKEAG: It's still there.
He'll take it off next time.
There won't be a next time.
Flower.
Flower.
How you say in English?
Flower.
Flower? Aye.
A wee braw flower
for a wee braw lassie.
Braw flower? Aye.
Oh, pretty. I suppose
you'd best say pretty.
Pretty? Aye.
Pretty flower. Aye.
If you're going
to learn English,
you'd best learn it the
way the English speak it.
That way people won't be
turning up their nebs at you
like they do at me
from time to time.
Turn up their nebs?
Aye, nebs. Oh, nose. Nose.
You'll learn to call it nose.
Nose.
And these are your ears.
Ears.
And your hair.
Hair.
And your eyes.
Eyes.
Eyes.
And this?
Lips.
Lips.
You're beautiful.
Beautiful?
We'd better get back.
Beautiful.
Means pretty?
Aye.
Like the flower?
You think I'm pretty?
We'd better go.
Red Beard,
I think you pretty, too.
Clay Basket, I...
We have to go.
You teach me more?
I'll teach you more tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
I know tomorrow.
Tomorrow will be beautiful.
Aye.
Aye.
Tomorrow will be beautiful.
Your father is quite a chief.
No. He's not a chief.
Well, he got all those horses
and did all those things
and he's not a chief?
He did not want to be a chief.
Why?
Why isn't he a chief?
Aye. Why isn't he a chief?
He doesn't like feathers.
What? What about feathers?
He doesn't like them.
I don't understand.
A long time ago, my father
got horses for Our People.
Aye, the first horses
for your tribe.
But he could not keep
the horse he wanted.
Why not?
It was given to a chief.
But he got them himself.
You told me, 19 of them.
Aye.
How could the chief take the
horse your father wanted?
He was chief.
Oh, so now your father
won't be chief.
Never. I see.
It isn't the feathers
he doesn't like,
it's the men who wear them.
Tell your mother there are men
like that in every tribe.
And tell her I think your
father is the chief anyway.
A big chief.
Pasquinel.
Tell Pasquinel my heart
is sad to see him leave.
Pasquinel, my father sad you go.
Well, mon ami, I see you have her
English as tongue-tied as your own.
Tell him that I sad to go, but I
come back when the leaves change.
Red Beard, too?
Red Beard, are we partners?
Aye.
They are sad to leave, too, but they will
come back when the leaves change color.
Will they bring their wives?
Ask them!
I don't know how to ask that.
Comprends?
He wants to know
about our wives.
Wives?
If they'll come
with us next time.
No, no, no. My wife,
she stays in Montreal.
Pasquinel, his wife
stays in Montreal.
Montreal? Is it far away?
Far away. Far enough.
Montreal is many miles north.
And you, Red Beard?
I have no wife.
What did he say?
He said he has no wife.
A man must have a wife
to give him the
best gifts of all.
He said a man must have a wife to
give him the best gifts of all.
Tell him he has a
beautiful family
and he should be proud of them.
Your family is beautiful.
Now we go.
Good hunting.
It will be good
because of Pasquinel.
Mon ami.
Six bales, mon ami.
Our share will make us rich men.
Is it true what you said?
Qu'est-que c'est?
About having a wife.
Is she in Montreal?
Non. Detroit.
Even good friends shouldn't know
everything about a man, n'est-ce pas?
All right. No more questions.
Clay Basket.
They will return.
Pasquinel is a brave man.
But I do not believe him,
what he says about his woman.
He will need a good
woman when he returns.
I would welcome him
into my family.
You hoped I would
say the Red Beard?
Yes. No.
It is Pasquinel you will marry.
When I am gone, he
will take care of you.
But Father, you will
not go for many years.
There are many changes.
The Pawnee are trading
for more guns.
The Utes are coming out of the
mountains to live like us,
and these white men,
they're only the first.
More will come to
trade for beaver
and with them they'll
bring change.
What kind of change?
I don't know.
Pasquinel, he will know
and he will protect you.
Pasquinel, he can be trusted.
Make sure Bockweiss
gets these pelts.
Pasquinel!
Joe Bean. Kentucky.
Well, I'm doing all
right, but not that good.
How far up did you get?
La Cache la Poudre.
La Cache la Poudre.
The big mountains?
That's some doing. Any trouble?
Well, there's always
trouble, n'est-ce pas?
In the high mountains
there are the Utes,
but still the worst
are the Pawnee.
That's where I met my
partner on the Missouri.
He was taking on a whole
war party all by himself.
A whole war party?
Nine braves were stealing peltries from
a pirogue called the Sainte-Geneviève.
The Genevieve. I heard tell
another boat picked her up.
All the men had been massacred.
The Pawnee were already
lifting scalps when I saw him
right in the middle
attacking them all.
I dropped three from long
range with my rifle,
but he was right in the
middle with just his knife.
Hand to hand?
By the time I tried to
reload for the fourth,
he had killed the last one.
Regardez. A tomahawk
right there.
And still he continued
fighting with only one hand.
I was wondering why
you partnered up.
I guess that tells
the whole story.
Joe Bean. Kentucky.
What is it they call you?
Alexander McKeag.
Where you from?
Scotland. And La
Cache la Poudre.
Pasquinel!
Whiskey!
Whiskey for my friend
Joe Bean from Kentucky,
and my partner.
Where've you been, Pasquinel?
I've been to the other
end of the river
and now I'm going to
drink my way back.
You Pasquinel?
Pasquinel, oui. What
are you drinking?
Nothing you buy.
Then you're in the wrong place,
because today, I buy
everything this man sells.
Yeah, with blood money.
Do I know you?
I know you.
You're a liar and a coward.
I know we have never met before.
You murdered my brother.
Your brother?
And three good men that
ride the Saint Genevieve.
Oh, The Sainte-Geneviève. It
was attacked by the Pawnee.
Pawnee nothing.
It was you and that
burr-tongued partner of yours.
Why would we attack white men
and scalp them? What for?
You know damned good
and well what for.
My memory fails me. Why
don't you tell me?
Why didn't you wash the furs?
Because what belongs to another
man is of no interest to me.
Now, I want to buy you a drink,
in honor of your brave brother.
And if he was an honest trader,
he was my brother, too.
You go to hell!
In due time.
Joe Bean!
Here is to new profits
and to new partners.
Are you sure you're
completely healed, Alexander?
Aye.
I just can't imagine an
experience like that.
How about you, Pasquinel?
That arrowhead
bother you at all?
No.
What arrowhead?
The one the Pawnee planted
in his back last year.
The one that brought me to the good
doctor and brought us all together.
For many years.
How long could a man survive
in a land like that?
Only the rocks live forever.
What?
It's a saying of the
Indians on the plains.
"Only the rocks live forever."
None of us will live forever,
so it matters not how
long you live, but how.
They tell me you have a
wife in New Orleans.
New Orleans?
This town...
I'd better get back
to the Indians.
Here.
The ingots have melted.
That is how you shape them, huh?
Ja. The molds.
When you're on the plains,
you have a woman there?
An Indian woman?
I mean, I have
heard some men do.
It's a natural thing, I suppose.
I suppose. How
long does it take?
Until they cool.
Tomorrow these will be ready.
So, then, you do not?
What's that?
Oh, the Indian woman? No, no.
McKeag is the only one
who shares my canoe.
He sounds like quite a fellow.
But he does not say
much, though, does he?
That's why I let him
share my canoe.
It seems to me
a man with a good business
like you ought to marry.
What you file off,
you use again?
Ja.
I have been planning
on it again myself.
What's that?
Get married.
Oh.
But a good woman is not
an easy thing to find.
A woman like Lise?
Lise.
Ja, ja, my Lise is a fine woman.
You have noticed, ja?
It'd be hard for a
man not to notice.
I'm glad to hear you say that.
It's easy to say...
You're buffing. Is that right?
Ja.
And these tools here,
they're for the etching?
Ja.
Such small tools
in such big hands.
What you do is
really remarkable.
Pasquinel,
let me be frank.
I sell a piece like this
for a lot of money.
I'm going to be a
very wealthy man.
I can afford to be very
generous with Lise.
I don't understand.
You would have a
fixed home here.
A fixed home is
something, Pasquinel.
Monsieur Bockweiss, why
would Lise want me?
I will never be anything
but what I am, a coureur.
Damn it, do not
play dumb with me.
You know she is interested
in you, and so do I.
Now, I am telling you
that as your partner I
would be very happy to...
That is, should you
at some point in time
wish to join my family,
I would have no
objection whatsoever.
You are a good father, monsieur.
Hermann.
Hermann, you are a good
friend to suggest that
something like that
would be possible.
We could have the wedding before
you go back to the plains.
You said, "In time."
And you said none of
us lives forever.
The Indians know more about
life than any of us maybe, huh?
Huh?
Perhaps.
At the end of the 18th century,
the Indians of the Great Plains
were sovereigns of their world.
The horse had allowed them
to ride into a new life
in the formerly forbidding
heart of the open grasslands.
While Lame Beaver
continued to refuse
all offers to sit
among a council,
he was respected above all
other members of his tribe
because they remembered it was his
courage that first gave them the horse.
A man's wealth and his
family's social standing
were now determined by the
amount of horses he owned.
And every young Indian boy
knew that if he became
a skilled warrior and hunter,
he would acquire many
horses of his own
and live a life of
dignity and respect
like the old man
called Lame Beaver.
Lame Beaver was 53 years old as the
century was drawing to a close.
By the standards of his
time, he was already old.
Not even the new power the gun
brought him as a warrior and hunter
could replace other powers
he would be losing soon.
He knew his time
was almost over,
but he had no way of knowing that
an ancient culture at its zenith
had little more
time left than he.
The Plains Indians of the year
1800 were a contented people.
The horse had been
their salvation,
the buffalo was the basis
of their existence.
From its many parts came almost
everything necessary to daily life.
It provided food, clothing,
shelter, weapons,
and a source of industry that kept
bodies strong and minds healthy.
It was a time to be enjoyed.
There was no need to
worry about the future,
and the young people could
take pride in the past.
Father, tell me
about the horses.
How you were the first
one to get them.
That was a long time ago.
Did you really visit the sun
before you raided the Comanche?
Could a man do something
like that alone?
I wish I could have seen
you bring them into camp.
Was it exciting, Mother?
It was the most exciting
thing we'd ever known.
The bravest thing any
warrior had ever done,
and he was only 17 summers.
He walked far to the south
where the Comanche
were hunting buffalo.
Our people could not follow the
buffalo as far as the other tribes
and we were not as
powerful in war
because we had no horses.
Your father knew that we must get
horses or our tribe would die,
but no other warriors
would go with him
because they knew if they
were caught by the Comanche,
they would die a terrible death.
Man Above, I am one
of Our People.
Help me.
Comanche!
It was so bold and so daring
that even the Comanches
saluted him for his courage.
When I saw him return to camp,
I knew it was the greatest
thing I would ever see.
He had brought the horses
no one else could get,
the horses we could
not go on without.
He had given us our lives.
And I have never known
a prouder moment
than when he put
me on one of them.
The one he would
give to my brother,
so that we could share
a life together.
And you were only 17 summer.
The other braves must have...
We need new lodge poles.
They'll last another season.
They've been dragged for many miles.
They're growing short.
Maybe we could use new ones.
Maybe? Look at them!
We should have traded for them
when we were in the north.
Trade for what, a horse?
I'd never trade a horse.
I'll find poles. The best poles.
What is it?
Are you all right?
Leave me alone.
Blue Leaf.
I'm not angry with you.
Clay Basket thinks it's her
because she asked you
to tell the story.
No. I just broke another tooth.
See?
Does it hurt?
What hurts is getting old.
Each year for you is
another one for me, too.
Remember when we had no horses?
We moved so slowly then,
only with the dogs.
We moved so slowly, and
life seemed so long.
I remember when I was a boy,
I thought I'd never grow old.
I thought I'd never be old
enough to be a warrior.
Sit.
When your body must
work, make it work.
When it needs rest,
give it rest.
Where is the river?
Have you looked around you? Yes.
Then take a second look.
A longer look.
I don't see anything.
What are those?
Just swallows.
That's right.
Just swallows.
But swallows must have water every day.
Doves, too.
So you watch for them.
If their mouths were empty,
they were flying toward water.
If they had mud in them,
they were flying from water.
Do you know which
way the water is?
That way.
You saw the mud in their
mouths from here?
You didn't ask me that.
You only asked if I knew
which way the water is.
Look closely at everything.
Watch the animals to
learn their secret ways.
The deer will teach you how to go
without water for a long time.
The hawk will teach you how to
strike swiftly without missing.
The coyote, how to keep
from being captured.
The rattlesnake, how to
keep from being seen.
Which one teaches you
how to make fire?
Only man.
And he is the most dangerous
animal you will ever know.
More dangerous than
a mountain lion?
Much more. Why?
Because he knows what you know.
That was a long time ago.
A lifetime ago.
You've made my life a good one.
Tomorrow I'll make us the
best tepee in the village.
I'll find poles in
the Blue Mountain.
Poles that are
tall and straight.
The Blue Mountain?
The Utes are there.
I'm not afraid of the Utes.
Just because a man
breaks a tooth
is no reason to change
the way he lives, is it?
No.
There have been Ute
here hunting beaver.
Over there.
We can take them.
We're here for lodge
poles, not scalps.
Is that the man who raided the
Comanche for horses talking?
A man of many coups?
It is a man who lived long enough
to tell the stories himself.
We'll wait here in the
shadows until they leave,
then we'll find our poles
among the tall spruce.
It was in this mountain valley
that Lame Beaver made a discovery
that would have an impact
on the whole world a
half a century later.
But at the time he had no way
of knowing the value other men
might put upon the shining
rocks he held in his hand.
What is it?
Bullets I don't have to melt.
Will you give up trading now?
No, señora.
But with a family...
It's all that I know.
Merci.
Well, perhaps you might
learn to be a silversmith.
After all, we have the finest
teacher here in St. Louis.
He would make a good pupil.
But I cannot get him interested.
Because it's a talent
that I don't have.
Señor, you must have a
very special talent.
Lise could have chosen any man
in the city and she chose you.
Because she wanted
someone to look up to.
Papa.
Excuse me, Pasquinel. Oui.
I'll be right back.
Alexander, will you
dance with me?
Oh, I cannot dance.
I will teach you.
It is my wedding.
Monsieur Pasquinel?
Oui?
I say it is very exciting to know
you are civilizing the Indians.
Civilizing them?
Well, I pray to God I'm
never guilty of that.
But that is what you do, is it not?
No, no.
You introduce them to our ways?
I am a trader. Gracias.
I trade beaver, madame.
Surely you are too modest.
You must admit that you are
an emissary for our cultures.
And if the Indian is to learn,
he must learn from
men like yourself.
Monsieur, you may ask my
father-in-law, I am not...
I'm not a modest man.
But there is nothing I can teach
the Indian that he needs to know.
Why is that?
Because he lives with nature.
He's been taught to
become a part of nature.
Yes, but still they are
totally uneducated.
No, no, no.
Uneducated in our world,
but not in theirs.
Well, are they so different?
What time is it?
The time, do you have it?
It is ten of four.
Is that important to you?
Is that important to any of you?
Well, I thought you asked.
I did. But an Indian wouldn't.
He has no clocks because he sees
no need to schedule his life.
And he does not believe that
what a man does in a day
by so many hours is a real
measure of his worth.
No, no. He does what he does.
It takes as long as it takes,
and no one does it
better than the Indian.
No, no one here can teach the Indian
anything that is important to him.
You may be forgetting
one thing, my son.
They are heathens.
They build no churches,
they write no sacred books,
but everything about the Indians
centers around his religion.
A pagan religion.
Sacrifices, bloodletting.
Didn't Christ himself
die on the cross,
and wasn't that God's will?
That was a unique
act, Pasquinel.
To save the world.
Theirs is a unique world.
It needs no saving.
Just relax.
I cannot. Of course you can.
Just glide with the music
and listen to the rhythm.
I'm sorry, I cannot.
All right, Alexander.
Oh, thank you.
To friendship.
Did Pasquinel tell you
that there would always be
a room here for you whenever
you are in St. Louis?
Oh, no, I...
That's one "no" I will not accept
from you, Alexander McKeag.
Our home is your home.
Unless you have plans of your own
you're not telling us about.
No.
No, you will not
accept our offer?
Or no, you have no
plans of your own?
No, I... I mean, I...
Alexander, I think there's
something you're keeping from us.
No.
There must be someone somewhere.
Well...
I knew it.
Here or in Scotland?
Here.
In St. Louis? No.
Where then?
Can you keep a secret?
Forever. Me, too.
Alexander, that's not fair.
It's just I don't suppose I
should be telling others
till I've had a chance
to tell her first.
That's fair.
And I know whoever she is,
she'll be as happy
as I am today.
I'd better go rescue Pasquinel.
He takes a bit of that
from time to time.
Now he will have both of
us to take after him.
Is it true they have
more than one wife?
Señora?
I've heard they keep more than one wife.
Is that true?
If they need them,
and if the woman
needs a husband.
And if the other wives
are happy for it.
They work hard.
More hands makes
the work easier.
I don't know. I don't think I
understand that kind of thinking.
People understand what
they want to understand.
Like me.
I don't understand why you're
dancing with that skinny Scotman
when you could be
dancing with me.
Regardez, McKeag, regardez.
Fascinating man.
Why? Because he fights Indians?
Because he understands them.
He should, my dear. He's
part Indian himself.
Oh, yes. Didn't you know? He's Mandan.
He's from Montreal.
By the way, I have heard that
he has a wife there, too.
Do you know why they
dance in a circle?
When I was little, I thought it
was to keep warm by the fire.
All of life is a circle.
The dancers start
there, the south,
which represents the source
from which we are born.
Then we move to the
left, through youth,
toward the sunset in the west.
And night falls as we draw
close to the cold north,
where the white hairs are.
To show us that all life is
night and day, good and bad.
Father, I know.
If we live on, we find the
source of light to the east,
and with it we find
understanding.
The understanding that teaches us
now to prepare for the end of life.
Then we return to
where we began.
Giving back our
life to all life,
our flesh to where
it started from.
Think about this.
And the more you think about it, the
more meaning you'll find in it.
Mother?
St. Louis ends here.
We've said goodbye.
I know, but...
Make certain this old
man keeps working.
I'm going to make him a god.
God Bockweiss, who makes
his silver pipes in heaven
but only for Pasquinel.
I will be working.
Come back.
I always come back.
Bonjour, mon ami.
It looks like a great
year for beaver.
Are you all right?
I did not think I
would feel this way.
I think that is natural.
Especially now, since you're
going to be a grandfather.
What? What?
That's wonderful.
Does he know?
I could not tell him. Lise.
I want him back.
He should not be going.
He will always be going. Do
you not know that, Papa?
If he has a family...
He'll always be going.
That is what he
is, what he does.
I do not want to change that.
I've heard there were
others who have tried.
Those are unfounded rumors.
They are lies.
Perhaps.
All I know is that I love him
and I want him to know how much.
If he comes back and sees I
did not try to stop him,
I think he will know.
I want you to know
I do not understand
that kind of thinking.
Maybe we only understand what we
want to understand, huh, Papa?
Lame Beaver.
I'll get you, Lame Beaver.
I used to watch your mother
on mornings like this.
You're even more beautiful
than she was then.
I don't think so.
No, this is my work. Not today.
Have I ever told you why
we named you Clay Basket?
Many times.
We were in the north,
following the bison.
A Dakota trader brought out a
splendid basket made by a Cree.
It looked like it was woven, but it was
made of clay. And your mother loved it.
She wanted it above
all other things.
Father, I know the story.
You must not forget it.
You must not forget that
I bought that basket
for your mother
with a bison robe.
A robe she'd worked on for
many months to make it soft.
It was a good robe,
and I traded it for the basket.
The clay basket your mother loved
so much and for which you're named.
Father... And all the
other stories, too.
The ones your mother painted
on the robe for me,
the ones we told you
about our life together,
about the wild duck that
lived in the cottonwoods,
and the tame elk that stayed
in the camp in the north,
and all the other stories.
You must not forget
them, or they will die.
Father, where's Mother?
I've looked for her.
She's gone to be alone.
Why?
To think.
To make herself ready.
Oh, no.
That's why you told me again
about the dance, too, isn't it?
You are my child.
You must remember everything,
or your children will never
know how it was with us.
You're going to war?
The Pawnee have stolen a child.
She must be returned.
Let the young men go.
The young men are
afraid of the Pawnee.
You can't go.
The girl may be dead. Why
should you die, too?
We must know.
And the Pawnee must know
that Our People will not
let them do such things to us.
Father... If I've
been a good father,
you know the end must
come for us all.
And you remember what I said
about the white man Pasquinel.
When I'm gone, he'll
take care of you.
You don't have to go.
What about Mother?
Who'll take care
of her if you go?
Your mother is a woman.
She knows her end as
well as I know mine.
Oh, Father.
Who is Man Above?
Man Above is a creator.
Higher than all people
and all the universe.
He has no beginning and no end.
Is he good?
He is all good.
Then why do we fight other men?
Because there is
evil in men, too.
You pray every morning?
Our tepees face the morning sun
to remind us we must
give thanks every day.
What if there's no
reason to give thanks?
Then the fault is in yourself.
I'll pray with you tomorrow.
No.
You must meet the morning sun
and the great silence alone.
It prepares your mind
to face the day.
It makes you thoughtful
in all things.
Man Above,
I have done all I can do.
The charge will be
heaviest there.
I will wait there for the
great chief Rude Water
and I will shoot him dead.
The Pawnee will panic,
and we'll have the girl.
Go now. Man Above is with us.
Go!
Mother, your things.
They are mine no more.
Your basket!
Get away!
Burial.
Up there?
So the spirit can escape into
the wind and the clouds.
He was a great warrior.
How do you know?
The ponytail.
They kill a great
man's favorite horse
so his spirit won't
have to walk.
The stake and the thongs.
He died in combat,
as brave a death as possible.
McKEAG: And it just stays
up there like that?
Nature will claim it in time.
As she does everything.
Mother.
Mother.
Mother?
Mother.
You don't have to stay out here.
It must be.
There's room on my robe
in your brother's tepee.
He did not ask me in, and
it's not your right to ask.
He won't want you
to stay out here.
He has no choice.
I do.
And I'm staying with
you wherever you are.
No, sweet one.
You have a life to live.
And mine is over.
He didn't have to kill
himself that way.
He didn't have to
leave you like this.
We talked.
I knew what would come.
It was this way for
my mother, too.
But why?
It makes no sense.
Does it make more sense
for us to grow old
and burden those who need
their strength to survive?
I can't leave you.
I won't leave you.
You must stay warm and
you must stay well.
And when the white man comes,
you must go with him
as your father said.
And you must have his children,
and you must remember
all the stories
so they will know who they are.
You remember who you are.
You are the daughter
of a very brave man.
A man of many coups.
He was a fool.
He was what I said.
And what you will say to your
children and they to theirs.
In that way,
he will go on living
and bring meaning to
their lives as well.
That's all we can ever do.
Any of us.
Yes, Mother.
Yes.
Rude Water dead.
Dead? How?
Arapaho make war.
Big devil Lame Beaver
stake self out,
shoot Rude Water.
Lame Beaver? What
happened to him?
We kill him.
But his medicine strong. He
count many coup before he died.
That scaffold by the river.
How long ago this fight?
Just before snow.
Not long.
We should have started earlier.
You think you could've stopped them?
I could've tried.
You give Lame Beaver gun?
I trade gun for beaver.
Same as Rude Water.
You trade yellow bullets, too?
Yellow bullets?
Only reason Lame Beaver
kill Rude Water.
Well, that looks like...
It is.
Mother.
Mother?
Mother?
Mother?
Go back.
Back.
Bonjour, mon ami.
Another long night
for you, too, huh?
Sweet savior.
Damn.
It's Blue Leaf.
How could that happen?
What's she doing out here?
She is no longer the
wife of a warrior.
She has no right to
a tepee of her own.
What? It's their law.
Without a son or a brother
willing to take her in,
she has no home.
She is allowed to keep is
what she has on her back.
That's bloody inhuman!
She knew it would happen.
What about her daughter?
Oui, the girl, she would know.
Know? About the gold. Where
her father found it.
That's not what I meant. I
meant what did they do to her?
She is young and strong, she'll bear
the grandchildren of a great warrior.
She'll have plenty
of men after her.
She could even have
a husband already.
What should we do with her?
Leave her.
They will lay her to rest with
her sewing kit and awl cases
like they did him
with the weapons.
Let's find the girl.
What's her name?
Clay Basket. Oui, Clay Basket.
She is with my father now.
It is good.
And you?
You're all right?
Aye.
Clay Basket,
I gave your father the gun.
Do you know where
he got his bullets?
Pasquinel.
Ask her.
Do you know where your father
got the bullets for his gun?
Bullets?
Aye.
Where? Ask her where.
I make.
You? You made the bullets?
Bullets.
Aye. I make bullets.
The yellow ones?
Yellow? Like these.
No. But they came from the gun.
My father's gun? Oui.
They came from your father's gun.
Where did he get them?
I not see.
I not know. But he say to me...
Oui? He said?
He just told her how
much it meant to him
and to the tribe for you
to give him the gun.
That's all?
That's all he said to you?
He told me you would come back.
He told her we'd come back.
And when you did, he wanted me to go
with you, if it pleases you, Pasquinel.
What?
He told me it would make him proud
if I would belong to Pasquinel.
What did she say?
McKeag?
He told her he wanted
her to go with you.
Avec moi?
To be your wife.
Pasquinel, I wonder...
I mean, since you're already...
I mean, since there's no way...
Mon ami, I don't think you
understood what she said.
Her father told her
to go with me.
He know I would take care of her.
I heard.
But Bockweiss asked you first...
Bockweiss is in St. Louis.
What about Lise?
He'll take care of her. He
will always take care of her.
Tell her I am proud to
have her for my wife.
For the gold, you mean.
That's it, isn't it? The gold.
You think she knows where it is.
Tell her.
Pasquinel, he doesn't want me?
Pasquinel says you
make him proud.
Red Beard?
Aye?
Arm good?
Aye. My arm is fine.
The Indians said,
"Pasquinel, he can be trusted."
It came to be a passport of
safety for the coureur de bois
and his partner
Alexander McKeag.
But McKeag began to wonder how much the
Indians had really known about Pasquinel.
Had they confused
courage with honor?
Still, the young
Scot could not leave
the only friend he'd ever known
and the only woman
he'd ever wanted.
He only knew one
thing for certain.
It would be a hard winter.