Cimarron Strip (1967–1968): Season 1, Episode 8 - The Roarer - full transcript

A hell-raising cavalryman's escapades cause trouble for both Marshal Jim Crown and his post commander. His destructive exploits lead to violence as he flouts not only the law but a vigilante committee formed to kill him.



What happened?

Who is it?

Who is that?

Leave it alone.

What happened? Who is that?

Well, you don't see anyone riding
with Sergeant Disher, do you?


Little Tom? Is that Little Tom?

Get off.

Well, look, Sergeant, I
know he was your friend.

I know how you feel.

Little Tom was a...

Now this is Corporal Thomas.

The military's as
bad as the cowboys.

(men shouting)

God help if my wife
should happen to walk down

the main street of
this town after dark.

(men shouting)

And who's going to pay for the
broken windows in Hartman's store?

And what about Johnson's
sheep they let loose?

He's still missing
seven south down.

Cowboys tear up this town
and the soldiers are just as bad.

(men shouting)

Now, we gotta have protection,
we have got to have it.

- Right!
- Yeah!

Now, Walt Forcey, your hardware's
already been wrecked once

'cause you were
selling barbed wire.

And it's gonna happen again.


Sam, when was the last time

you sold all the
whiskey on your invoice?

If the law won't protect us,
then we gotta protect ourselves.

(all shouting)

Evening, Marshal.

Mr. Blynn.

Good evening, everybody.

Sorry I'm late.

Somehow, I never
received an invitation.

Go on, don't let me
interrupt anything.

No reflection on you,
of course, Marshal,

but we were discussing ways of
protecting ourselves and our property.

I'm in favor of that.

I'm in favor of anything
that makes my job easier.

Anything except a
vigilante committee meeting.

Oh, I know, Marshal.

Don't bother to
lie to him, Blynn.

Can't you see
he's laughing at us?

There's nothing funny about a
vigilante committee, I guarantee ya.

I got two boys I'm
trying to raise up

to be halfway civilized.

Why don't you do that, Wyman?

Leave the law to me.

I recommend the same
thing to the rest of you.

You all know your
businesses and I know mine.

Nine times out of ten, with
these citizen committees,

somebody ends up shooting
his next-door neighbor

or some kid romping
around in the woods.

If you're lucky, it'll just
be a stray longhorn.


you'll be making
so darn much noise,

any man you're tracking will be
able to hear you from nine miles off.

And, Wyman, what do you
know about tracking a man?

And, Forcey, when was
the last time you held a gun?

I hear it's been some time since
they had Indians in Philadelphia.

(men laughing)

Of course, any of you men that have a
genuine concern for the law enforcement

and really want to help...

well, I'd be honored to
swear 'em in as a deputy.

Where's the undertaker?

What happened, Sergeant?

They said he'd be here.

Now, is he here or isn't he?

Took up a collection.

And Little Tom's to
have nothing but the best.

Now where is that bloody
night-crawling stiff preserver?

I'm Arliss Blynn.




That Little Tom was mean.

Oh, he was mean.

With a heart full of
sudden treachery.

"Strategy," he called it.




You know, Tom was a "ponderer."

He was always looking
for the back way around.


One time I saw him
flatten a Sioux camp

by stampeding a herd
of buffalo through it.


Another time, when we
were with General Crook,

I saw Little Tom run a hard-case
nester out of the back hills

by doing nothing more

than lighting a string
of Chinese firecrackers

and pulling the tail of a half-growed
yellow dog he found out there.


That's him.

Unless he thought Old Crazy Horse
had jumped for his mutton chops.

I told him a hundred times,

"Tom, you have got the soul of a
lizard and the face of a pack rat."


Oh, what a face that was.

His eyes were
that close together

that we used to call his
nose a mosquito's tightrope.


A regular Isthmus
of Panama it was,

with a red eye for the Atlantic
and a blue one for the Pacific.


You know something, if
Tom had ever cried in his life,

he could have washed down
the levy and drown in the storm.




What do you think you're doing?

I think you're a great
storyteller, Sergeant,

and I think a lot
of my readers will

be mighty interested in
reading about your friend.

My friend.

My friend is not a curiosity

to tickle the imaginings of some

sweet-smelling corset
salesman in a barber chair.

You wanna write
about Little Tom?

Well, you write about
the way Little Tom died.

Certainly it was an
Apache tomahawk.

Certainly it was a Sioux arrow.

Certainly it was a bullet
fired over a game of chance

or a prairie fire or,
at the very least,

a kick from a
wild white Arabian.

Oh no, my little Pekingese.

To bring down Tom, it took the length
of covered wire and a railroad track.

Well, I'm sorry, Sergeant.

I hadn't heard how he died.

I just supposed it was
an accident of some kind.

Yeah, accident.

You know those
glorious, branchless trees

that telegraph company keeps
planting all across the desert?

Well, one of those was
halfway down in a storm.

Right where the wire
snuggles up next to those

beloved Topeka railroad tracks,

you ever notice what sweethearts they
are, that little wire and that big train?


Well, Tom's horse
hit the lower wire

and Tom went over the horse's
head and split his face on a rail.

And I was standing there
with his own brains in my hand

trying to figure out a strategy
that would get him out of that one.

Well, there's your
bloody obituary.

Now go peck it out to New York

over those sweet signing wires
down there by that railroad track.

(all muttering)

Are you all right?

If I say no, would you
consider hiring out for my nurse?

I'm going to get the marshal.

Ed, do you hear what I hear?

What's that?

You hear the wind rising on an
ocean of church wardens out there?


- Hey, Jim.
- Out!

Well, uh, it's...

Dulcey, am I gonna have
to be coal black in dirt

before you let me
take a bath in peace?

I'm afraid there's
going to be trouble.

I'm going to take a bath,
Dulcey, whether you like it or not.

Now you can sit on the
balcony and pray for blindness,

but I'm going to
take a bath in peace.

He's already
knocked Francis down.


It's Sergeant Disher.

Francis was taking down
some of the things he was saying

and all of a sudden...

Well, if he's gonna
make a business

out of sticking his nose
in other people's business,

he better get used to
being knocked down.

(glass shattering)



It looks like your modesty
is saved once again.


Never an ounce over eight stone
five was Little Tom with his canteen on.

He was so small he used
to sleep in his saddlebags.

That's a true fact.

He was the only man in creation that
I would go out of my way to fight with.

Most of the time, when we
wasn't drinking and laughing,

you could find us
trying to kill each other.


Are you all right?


Cub reporter holds on
against cavalry immortal.

That was over the
Comanche girl White Quail.


If you could have seen her,
you'd have understood why.

In those days,

she was the
spirit of wild glory.

Hair like black wheat
hanging down to her bottom.

Skin the color of red corn.

15 years old, only.

And eyes like
the heart of a gun.

I'd have killed to see
her walk 20 yards.

Wild, dancing life of her.

Well, anyway,

me and Tom, we whacked each
other for three days and three nights

over 16 square miles
in the dust, in the water...


And how did it end up?

White Quail put a bullet in my
neck, that's how wild she was.



Oh, Mr. Alfalfa, where
do you think you're going?

Nobody walks out
on me in memoriam.

Now, Sergeant, nothing
says we have to stay here

and listen to your racket.

All: Oh...

Well, Asparagus, let me see if I
can't find something that'll make it so.


Here's to White Quail,
may she rest in peace.

You know, I think
I killed her myself.

White Quail, White Quail!

All: White Quail!


And here's to Little Tom.

I'll see you on the other side
of the fire, you bleeding criminal!


Little Tom!

Whoa, whoa!

We are drinking
to Rollin Thomas,

a corporal in the
United States Cavalry.

Any man in this room who
doesn't want to drink with me?

When are you gonna stop this?

And what would you want
me to do about it, Wyman?

Send him back to the
fort where he belongs.

- Where he belongs?
- That's right.

Well, how old are you?

I'm 28.

Where are you from?

Someplace down south?


Well, the next time you talk
about where this man belongs,

you just try to remember back when
you were eight years old in Maryland.

This place didn't even exist.

There wasn't any Cimarron Strip.

There wasn't anything here
but Comanche hunting grounds.

It took the cavalry
six long bloody years

to make this place
fit for citizens like you.

Now it doesn't matter whether
Sergeant Disher was among 'em or not.

Well, he was.

But I'd say that Sergeant Disher
has as much right here as you.

Maybe a little more.

All right, Marshal.

At least I know
what side you're on.

All right, get up out of there.

Come on, I'm talking to you.

Get up!

Go on, get up.

Get up, get out of there!


- Get up, get out of there.
- Disher.

All right, everybody
on your feet.

I said on your feet!

To Little Tom.

All: Little Tom!


Did you see what that man done?

Did you see what he done?


See what he done?

Come over here!

Bartender, I wanna
drown this man in whiskey!

(men singing in the distance)

♪ Corporal's on the move ♪

♪ They may just start to
do the cracking down... ♪♪

(men shouting)


Don't shoot, General.

It's the mourning party!

You can't come in here.

(all shouting)

(gunshot firing)

(men yelping)

Oh, you're a dour and
delicate little fellow!

I'd take you home with me,

but I'm not partial to the
formaldehyde you're wearing.


(men shouting)

Hey, hey!

Will you look what
they've done to him?!


He looks almost honest.

It's no use, you hypocrite.

You're going one
way and one way only!

- Please, please.
- All right, all right.

Give him a drink, Ed.

Oh no, no, I...

It's all right now, Birdsong.

You're a great artist.

You did a great job.

You should have a reward.

Yeah, thank you,
but... but I don't drink.


You don't drink?

What do you mean,
you don't drink?

Are you trying to slander
the dead and gone?

Don't you realize this
is sacred ground, man?


(men shouting)


Don't, don't!

(all whooping)

(hollering and
yelping continues)

(whooping continues)



What'll Mr. Blynn say?

Oh, what a face he'll make.


My God, I've lost a finger!


Get Little Tom out of there.

They're going to incinerate him.

(glass shattering)

Get Birdsong out of there.

(shouting continues)


(glass shattering)

(glass shattering)

(glass shattering)

(glass shattering)

(singing in the distance)

(singing in the distance)

♪ ... sure they get ♪

♪ For they carry the
guns and bayonets ♪♪

Hey, Sarge.

Sarge Disher.

Did you burn up the whole town?

Don't worry, I
spared the saloons.


(men yelping)

All right, men, you and your detail
take these men to the stockade.

And the rest of you go
on about your business.

(all cheering)

Come on and hurry it up!

Come on now,
terrible fast, old man.

Major Covington,
this is Mr. Blynn.


How soon will you be
holding the court martial?

Tomorrow or next day.

After the burial.

I'm afraid that won't
be convenient for me.

I won't be able to get back
here until after the weekend.

There's no need for you
to come back, Mr. Blynn.

Why yes, to testify.

Did you bring your deposition?


That's all that
will be necessary.

Marshal, could I have yours?

You mean the marshal and I are not
to participate in the prosecution at all?

It's a military tribunal, sir.

Your side of it will be
given due consideration.

No, I must protest.

I really must protest.

The major here's a
fair man, Mr. Blynn.

And as for your charge of
damage to your property,

that'll be fully investigated,

as well as the others
who were hurt in the fire.

When will they investigate?

How long will it be
before we are reimbursed?

Truly, Major, I think
it's very important

to make an example
of this man Disher.

We have lawlessness enough
without its being contributed to

by the very people we
count on to combat it.

I am very aware of
the sergeant's crime.

Drunkenness, am I correct?

Tribunal will be
just, I assure you.

Thank you for taking
care of Corporal Thomas.

I should like to point out

that because of Sergeant Disher,

it is very doubtful whether my
assistant will be able to pursue his trade

without the full
use of his hands.

- Is that in this report?
- Yes.

Well, I'd like to
point out to you, sir,

Sergeant Disher has been awarded
more decorations for bravery and sacrifice

in the service of his country than your
assistant ever had fingers on his hands.

Even before he
met Sergeant Disher.

You say this is going to
be a fair trial, Marshal?

I thought that's
what a fair trial was.

Hearing both sides.


Giddyap, giddyap!


- Here, let me do that.
- No.

You go drink your coffee.

- Come on, I'll get it done in jig time.
- No.

Well, why not?

I don't want it
done in jig time.

All right.

We'll do it slowly.


Just like a regular waltz.



Oh, I knew you
couldn't do it slowly.

You know, you're gonna wound
my feelings one of these days.

I can sense it coming on.

Oh, no, no.

Now listen, you're
a different kind.

I mean, you... you're...

You're a whiz-around man.

You dash off here
and you dash off there

and something exciting is
always happening behind your back

and it drives
you to distraction.

But me...

I'm very different.

'Cause all I really need is a...

is one tiny little room,

just as long as it's
clean and sunny...

and all mine.

I'm a journalist.

Yes, well...

why don't you write something
intelligent and drink your coffee?

Maybe you can do that slowly.

Look who's here.

Good morning!

Good morning to you.

Well, what's the trouble with
law and order in this town?

Is it sleeping?

Oh, Crown, you're a
wicked figure of a man

and there's no
argument about that.

What in blazes
are you doing here?

Well, what in blazes do
you think I'm doing here?

I want a drink.

Francis, shut the door.

We're closed.

You got no business here, man.

He's not a man,
he's an epidemic.

I'll have a bottle of MacGregor's
Torment for me and the marshal here.

Marshal, you don't mind paying?

I spent my last cent
"angelizing" Little Tom.

What happened at the tribunal?

Boy, I'm sorry I
"throwed" you down.

Come over here and
have a drink with us.

Bring another glass.

Disher, what happened
at the court martial?

That stinkin' court martial.

Oh, now, you are a
pretty slip of a half moon.

Here, darling, come sit down.

Just where I can look at you.

Well, all we got left
in the army these days

is tinkers and housewives.

They give me two weeks on
hard labor and a reprimand.

Then what are you doing here?

I was thirsty.

You know what I been doing
since sunrise this morning?

I been planting peonies
for the major's wife.


I doubt that peonies
will grow in this hot sun.



Now you've got the word
from the flower herself.

Will you pick up
your glass and drink?

Did anybody see
you coming into town?

No, don't bother to answer that.

I'm not exactly invisible.

And you're not
very bright either.


You know, if Little Tom
made that point once,

he made it a thousand times.

Now, have you lost your
memory as well as your mind?

Now, you burnt down half of
Mercantile Street three nights ago.

There's gonna be a
welcoming committee

beating in our door with
nothing in their eyes but blood...

Your blood!


You know, that'll be like the
old days that I feared were gone.

Your strategy and my brawn make
the compost out of them weasels.


Did you see how he
brought me in the other night?

Did you see how he got those
ropes on me the night of the fire?


Here was the
corpse establishment,

flaming and crackling

and us carrying Tom out from his
first meeting with his new address

and the fire brigade was running
around like chickens in a thunderstorm.

And up comes Tricky Jim.

Up comes Tricky
Jim with the preacher.

And he starts the
preacher up intoning

all that "ashes to
ashes and dust to dust."

And he put those ropes on us

while we were kneeling in the
dust out of grief and respect.

I tell you, Little Tom could never
have thought of anything so treacherous.

I'm not Little Tom,

I'm the marshal of the
whole Cimarron Strip

and my job is to keep the peace!

That's true, you are handsomer.

But I know you, I know you down
to the depths of your devious soul.

Now will you take up
your glass and drink?

I can't stomach a dry fight.

Well, how much can you
drink in three minutes?

Two quarts, three?


Tricky Jim, if you're
thinking about a contest,

you better talk in
terms of gallons.

Dulcey, you set up the liquor.

Francis, you time us.

Now if I can drink more
than you can in three minutes,

are you gonna ride
back to the fort with me?

Have I got your hand on that?


Boy, that is a
beautiful mind at work.

That's Tricky Jim
trying to get me

to leave this town and
go back to that hard labor.

I'm trying to save your neck!

You're a beautiful toper.

But, Tricky Jim, I got
sponges in my knees.

All right then.

You tell me.

What do I have to do
to get you back there?

Tricky Jim, there is only
one way to get me back there.

And you know what it is.



You stand at the front door

and you don't let
anyone in for any reason.

And the best thing
you can do, young lady,

is stay out of the way.

No, on second
thought, you go upstairs.

Now go on, hush.

Go on!

And please be careful.

I told you to go upstairs!







We're closed!

Ah, ah, ah, ah!



It's them!

Open up, Marshal,
we know he's in there!

They're fighting!

Who's fighting?

Marshal Crown and
that big Disher fellow.

Well, let's give the
marshal a hand!

(all shouting)

They're gonna break in!

Maybe I should let 'em.

You keep them out
of here, you hear?

This is my fight!

(all shouting)

Hold it, gentlemen,
this is a private contest.

Look out!


(all shouting)

Get out, everybody,
get out of here!

Get out, get out!

You afraid of getting
your hands dirty?

I'm a businessman.

This kind of thing
I'm no good at.

Well, you better get good at it.

He burned the
roof off your store.

What else you want?


You and I are going after him.



I want to know why
he was let off so lightly.

You know why.

I released Disher into your
custody on the promise of a fair trial.

Would you consider it fair

to persecute a man for continuing
to be what he's always been,

the thing he was trained to
be, a thing he was praised

and honored for being, a thing
that was needed and required

when this country had to have
somebody do its fighting for it?

I'm not talking about
persecuting him.

I'm talking about
controlling him.

Now why wasn't he locked up?

The others would have
busted him out, the old-timers.

He's the only one around here

they can look at and say, "Lord,
maybe we really amount to something."

Well, then how about a transfer?

I'd lose half of my
men along with him.

Look, all I'm trying
to tell you, Major,

is if you can't control him, if you
can't keep him out of that town,

somebody's going to get hurt

and it's not only going to
be Disher and you and me

and the town and the military,
it's going to be everybody.

I've got a bunch of people
on the verge of vigilante fever

and it's not going to
take much to set them off.

Well, that's your business,
Marshal, not mine.

Then give me some
help to bring him in.

That won't be necessary.

He'll come back on his own.

What makes you think so?

Where else can he go?



Went end-over so quick I never
had a chance to grab your breeches.

I told you, didn't I?

I told you not to ride
that chestnut mare.

I told you she didn't have any
more sense than a jackrabbit.

You wasn't gone a minute 'til I
had to put a bullet through her brain.

She was cut that
deep on the wire.

Between the telegraph
companies, Indian file orchard,

and that handful of alfalfa the
mare was using for a brain...

you never had a chance.

The "inbreedment" does it.

Animals are dumb and anxious.

Women are lumpish.

Men are soft and calculating.

And in New York,

you know that the
name of the main industry

is called "Waiting For
The Word From The West"?

Wait 'til some half-crazy sourdough
pans gold in the Black Hills.

Then we'll sell
him some rickety,

dilapidated old equipment

and separate him from his gold.

Wait 'til them sod-busters,

wait 'til they have
camped all over this land,

then we'll sell them
some barbed wire

so they can mangle the
stock of their neighbors.

Wait 'til all the
bleeding redskins,

wait 'til they're cooped
up on a reservation

that we're gonna
jam a railroad through.

Jam a railroad through,

set drummers and undertakers
running through a place.

A place where once a man

could lay for a week and
hear nothing but the wind.

See nothing but a
hawk in front of the sun.


Well, no more!

No more!

No more waiting for
the word from the west.

Little Tom's the last good
man you get, New York,

you bleeding
carpet-rested grease-haired

muddy-slugging caterpillars!

(gun cocking)

No more!





Stop that!

Stop it, I said.

You can't do this.

There'll be a train
along here any second.


I said stop that.

Don't you understand?
I have a gun.

(gunshot firing)





(horse whinnying)

That's for Little
Tom, Tricky Jim.

Now you put me in
your tissue-paper jail.

The man's crazy with battle.

All: Yeah!

He can't tell when he's at war
anymore and when he's not.

All: Right!

Now who's he gonna kill next

and whose property
is he gonna burn?

Now Major Covington is
on his way over here now

to pick up his pet killer for
another slap on the wrist.

Are we gonna let that happen?

All: No!

(all shouting)


Wyman: try that and
someone might even get killed.

We're gonna show that it's
the people who run this town

and not the marshal
and his friend.

Hey, MacGregor!


Got a match?

What are you so
worried about, man?

If I have to
answer that for you,

you're either the
bravest man I ever met

or the stupidest.


Have you never heard
of the army, MacGregor?

The major will come for me

and then you can go back
to cleaning your fingernails

and drinking your coffee

or whatever they tell you
you're good for around here.

I never yet knew a
sergeant who had any sense.


Hey, can I fix you anything?

No, no.

I'm not hungry.

Go on upstairs
and stay out of sight.

Listen to me.

Now, gentlemen,
you're all friends of mine.

You all know me, you
know where I stand.

All: Yeah.

And I say let's not get
anyone killed until we have to.

Let's take it a step at a time

and use our heads a little bit.

Sergeant Disher is in jail now.

Let's see if Crown turns
him over to Covington again.

If he doesn't, we can give the marshal
a chance to see that true justice is done.

(all jeering)

If he does, then
we'll have no choice.

(all jeering)

(all shouting)

(coin clanking)

That cover it?

There's no charge.

(cork popping)

I didn't come here
for gratuities, Marshal.

I expect only
what's due and right.


Well, there's me major.

MacGregor, your
worries are over.

Just give me the papers to sign

and I'll take the
prisoner off your hands.

Major, I have a kind of
rule of thumb in my job.

I try to limit my
mistakes to one apiece.

This is a military matter.

Not anymore it isn't.

You prefer to have that crowd out
there do your job for you, is that it?

We'll see that Disher
gets to trial, all right.

Well, if that's your
feeling, why not let them

lynch him here and now?

You say the tribunal was
prejudiced in Disher's favor.

What about a jury
of those people?

What chance do you think Disher
will have against prejudice like that?

Those people
won't be on the jury.

The trial won't be held here.

I've sent out wires of inquiry to
the courts at Fort Smith and Topeka.

They'll never let you move him.

They're not gonna know
I'm gonna move him.

Disher will get
a fair treatment.


You got my word on it.


Major Covington, sir!



He'll be back.



Six fives.

You're a liar.

There it is.

You owe me one.

Say, John, you better
send your boy over

so he can get these
trellises all fixed up.

Why, thank you.

Did you see that?



We did it.

They'll hold the
trial at Fort Smith.


Well, I'll miss him.

He's the first truly honest
man I ever met in my life.

I don't know about that.

How do we get him there?

I think the only train through
here tonight is the 11:20.

We'll have to wire them

and tell them that we'll meet them
with the prisoner at Shades Wells.

- Have Francis do that.
- Yes.

Where is he?

Oh, um, one of
the girls at Kelly's

claims to be a Turkish princess.

Just the sort of fodder for our
reporter's vast Eastern readership.


What are you laughing at?

Oh, nothing.

Except she told me
she was Arabian.


What do you mean, "Oh"?


Except she told
me she was Greek.



Well, you could have asked me.

All you had to do was ask me.

Well, I did ask you, I
asked you six times.

And six times, you told me, "Why,
they'd never believe it in Boston."

Good night, Princess.

Marvelous woman.

Very tragic story.

I want you to go down
to the telegraph office

and send a wire to the
station master in Amarillo.

You drag me all the way out
here just to send a wire for you?

I'd do it myself but I'd
attract too much attention.

Now as soon as
you send the wire,

I want you to destroy it
and then report back to me.

Now go on, get.

Well, how is he?

Sleeping like a child.

Uh, give me the message.

You told me to destroy the note.

Do you know, I think we're going
to make a deputy out of him yet.

As a matter of fact, I think I
did stumble on to something.

Did the, uh, telegraph agent have
a big bruise on his cheek today?

No, but I'll bet you a steak
and a beer he's got one now.

I think they know
we're moving Disher.

Did the agent look like
he'd been worked over?

Told me he fell down the stairs.

Well, maybe he did.

Well, there was a
certain smell in the office.

I couldn't place it at first,

but now I think I
know what it was.

All right, Mr. Writer.

You've got the
center of the stage.

We're hanging on
your every word.

Francis, what was the smell?



(crickets chirping)


It's so quiet.

I know something's wrong.

Ah, Miss Peony.

Don't worry.

I'm just going for a ride
on the rolling hostelry.

Now they tell me

that you can bury
both of your hands

right in the velvet of the wall

and the seats are
covered with horsehair

and the carpet on the floor
is as deep as a meadow

and every passenger is
transported like the pearl of Arabia.

Oh, it's gonna be glorious.


I never had such coddling
before I become a killer.


Think it'll be all right, Jim?

Don't worry.

Tricky Jim's in charge.

The man of a thousand schemes.

When I start worrying
about Bill Disher,

I'll start worrying about
the Grand Canyon.

Now you just sit right down
here and be a good boy.

You give me five minutes.

Then you make your move.


All right, let's go.



They're leaving.

They just left.

Mr. Blynn.

Sit down, Mr. Spencer.

Services are nearly over.

(train whistle blowing
in the distance)

Ah, we'll never make it.

- It just left.
- We'll make it.

You and your shortcuts.

It flattens out across the rise!

I still think we ought to have stuck
to the river trail like Crown said.

The river trail.

You think it's sanctified?

I've been this way
a thousand times.

I broke it myself.


- Stop!
- Halt!

- Stop or I'll shoot!
- Stop or I'll shoot!

I just said that.

(gunshot firing)

You'll never hit
me that way, boy.

That was a warning.

A warning?

Boy, you'll have to
do better than that.

Tricky Jim would have warned me

with a shot right
through my belt buckle.

And that's where
the next one will go!

Ah, that's good, MacGregor.

You're the cold-blooded one.

The steel of Scotland is in you.

You come on down here

or I'll introduce a little
lead into your system.


Here's me heart.

Make it a quick, clean shot.

I know you wouldn't
want to see me suffer.

I'll do it!

Don't you worry!

Well, hurry up.

As any fool can plainly
see, I'm escaping.



Halt, I say!

Get down!

Why didn't you shoot?

You let him get away.

With the whole bloody
mountain falling on me?

Must have went that way.

No, that way.

(train whistle blowing
in the distance)


I've been twisting
myself in a knot

trying to stop those vigilantes

and you declare
open season on Disher

and hand them an invitation.

I'm sorry, but things have
obviously passed beyond the point

where you're equipped
to handle them, Marshal.

Who says that?

I was impressed by
this petition I received

from the people of Cimarron.

It has several
hundred names on it,

including those of your
most responsible citizens.

I'm well acquainted with
those responsible citizens.

Gentlemen, could we
have a few moments alone

with the Congressman?


You're inviting
any random killer

to shoot down a
man in cold blood

who, seven years ago,
was decorated by the very

Congress that you
yourself are a member of.

Let me bring in Disher.

Call in these posters
and give me a little time.

Well, certainly you've had
ample opportunity, Marshal.

Now the fact that this man
is a United States soldier

makes this a matter of much
more than local importance.

You know, sir...

this fort was almost completely
destroyed by Comanches once.

Would have been
wiped out all together.

Know what stopped them?

The terror of a Comanche
woman named White Quail.

Vicious woman.

You see, it didn't
matter, male or female.

Disher could make you
lay down your life for him

because you could be sure
he'd lay his down for you.

Now, sir, when you
talk about the army...

whom else do you
mean but Bill Disher?

- (knocking)
- Come in.

Yes, Newton?

Sir, there's some
trouble in Barrack C.

- You better come.
- Excuse me, sir.

We've had nothing but squabbles
since Disher's been gone.


Barrack C is that way, Newton.

Yes, sir, I know, sir.

But I had to say something.

All right, Private Newton,
suppose you lead the way.

Yes, sir.

Major, sir.

I'm sorry, I can't give
you a proper salute.

You see, sir, every clerk and
pastry cook was out sniffing after me,

but I gave them all the
goodbye and here I am.

So just put me in a stockade.

I'm ready for the court martial.

You shouldn't have
come back here, Sergeant.


Not come back, Major?

I'm a soldier.

That's all I am.

That's all I ever will be
in my entire bleeding life.

Congressman Burnett
and Marshal Crown

are both in my office.

You better take a horse
and get out of here.

Mexico is probably the best.

Bring those shackles over
and put them on this anvil.

I appreciate it, sir...

but I'm a shoddy runner.

I'll take my chances
with the army.

You just go ahead and
hold your court martial

and I'll sit in the stockade
for a while, as long as you like.

I won't bust out.

And, Major...

I'll even finish those peonies.

Sergeant, I'm under orders to
turn you over to the civil authorities.

(anvil dinging)

If you argue much longer, I
may be forced to do just that.

Thank you, sir, but, uh...

how will I know when
it's safe to come back?

- There's no coming back.
- Sir?

What's the matter
with you, Sergeant?

Haven't you got
any brains at all?

You're a wanted man, a criminal.

(anvil dinging)

There's nothing more
the army can do for you.


Sir, sir...

Major, sir.

Are you telling
me that I'm... out?

Private Newton?

Yes, sir?

Give this man a horse
and get him out of here.

Yes, sir.



I've been in this army...

26 years.

That'll be all, Sergeant.

You're dismissed.


Good luck, Sergeant.

Major, you're just in time.

I've got the congressman
here halfway to the point

of giving me another
chance with Disher.

I'll leave it up to
the two of you.

You know my
feelings on the matter.

(gunshot firing)

What's going on?

(gunshot firing)

- Ha!
- (horse neighing)




(gunshot firing)

- I'm a civilian now, boys!
- (gunshot firing)

They give me my
bleeding discharge.

No more rules and
regulations, boys!

No more bugles and brown gravy!

I'm free and flying!

(gunshot firing)




Why you big bloody fool!

You told him I was
here, didn't you?

I just had to kill a good man.

No, Major, that's
gonna be my job.





Tricky Jim!

I give the posse the slip.

I set them to chasing
an evil-looking jackrabbit.

So now it's just you and me.

How'd you find me?

I put myself in your boots.

Knew that you'd have to
water your horse sometime.


You are the loveliest man.

Ain't that true, old River Lips?

He's the loveliest man.

All right, let's go.

It's a long way back.

And you can toss
that rifle to the ground.

Now, Tricky Jim.

What are we doing in
this scuttling country?

Why should we, the two of us,

why should we hound each other

for the right to live among
candlemakers and bean fields?

You and me...

we should kiss the wind
and trundle off to Alaska.

We could murder
anybody we wanted to

and account to nobody
but the polar bears.

Pan gold in Juneau

and then we'll send
to Poland for a woman.

Why Poland?

Well, man, why not Poland?

She'd be used to the cold
and she don't speak English.

Bill, I promise
you a fair trial.

I'm to hope for a little
locked room with a window

about the size of my thumbnail

and a thousand thoughts
for my entertainment, huh?

I'll fight for you.

I'll do the best I can.

Now come on.

(gunshots firing)


(gunshots firing)

(horse neighing)

Get back!

Get back, you stupid fools!

You had your chance, Marshal.

Now he's ours.

(gunshots firing)

Get him!

(gunshots firing)

Get back, Wyman!




Well, you've finally gotten
a couple of men killed.

I hope you're all happy.

Of course, they're
both your own men.

But I figure it doesn't
matter much whose blood it is

to a bunch of scared
liquored-up amateurs

who should have stayed at
home in their vegetable gardens.

Joe Wyman was worried about
how his two sons were gonna grow up.

Well, how they gonna grow
up now without a father?

Oh, go on home, all of you!

Get out of here

before you get as sick
of yourselves as I am!



Oh, that's a good
trick, Tricky Jim.

But it won't work.

You wouldn't run out
no more than I would.

I know you, Tricky Jim!

You're a fighter, like me!

You're not like all
them bleeding others!


Disher: Hey!

Tricky Jim!





I know you.

Didn't I say I know you?

You wouldn't run away.

Just shut up.

Don't talk.

You're a great man, Tricky Jim.

Great man.

I always knew it would
be strategy that undid me.



oh, it has been a
jamboree fighting with you.

You still there, Tricky Jim?

Sure I'm here.

I gotta take you back, don't I?

Will you listen how quiet it is?

All the shopkeepers gone
back to their bleeding inkpots.

Listen how quiet the wind.


It's a glorious day.

There's a hawk...

under the sun.



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