All language subtitles for Little.House.On.The.Prairie.S08e08.720P.Bluray.X265

- Charles!
- Good morning, Mrs. Foster.

I've got a
letter for you.

It's from
Mr. Edwards.

Isaiah? Do you mind
if I take a break, nels?

- Not at all.
- Thank you.

- Thanks a lot, Mrs. Foster.
- You're very welcome.

How's that boy of his
doing in school?

He should be graduating
from college any day now.

He's an honor student. You ought
to hear Isaiah go on about him.

He usually writes
5 times this much.

What's wrong,
Charles?

His...

His boy has
been killed.

Oh, dear god.

It was a...
An accident.

I have to go, nels.

I still can't
believe it.

It seems like
only yesterday

they'd take
you and John fishing.

Remember how mad he used to get at you,
half-pint?

You always caught
the biggest fish.

When will you leave
for Chicago?

Charles: I'll check the train
schedules in the morning.

Isaiah asked me to be
in Chicago by Friday.

I'll probably have to leave
sometime early tomorrow.

Such a bad time to go.
I have so much work here.

I can handle it
for you.

Mr. Edwards will
need you there, pa.

I still
can't believe it.

That boy was
the whole world to him.

Isaiah: Charles!

I'm sorry
I'm so late.

I only got here about
an hour ago myself.

Took the trouble
to get US a room

a couple of blocks
from here.

Let's go.

Want some to
take away the chill?

No, thanks.

Right. It's been so long,
I almost forgot.

Teetotaling.

"Deeply regret
I must inform you

"that John Sanderson Jr.

"Was killed in
a street accident

"10:30 P.M. today.

"Please contact me
or mercy hospital

for additional
information."

"T. Callahan."

Who is this Callahan?

The man
from the paper.

John worked there
after classes.

Paid his way,
that boy.

Have you talked
to Callahan?

No.

No, I figured
we could do that

first thing
in the morning...

Then make arrangements
to bring John's body home.

Charles: You ought
to get some sleep.

Damn. He was
a fine boy!

Driver: Get back,
you fool!

Do you want to get
killed?

Mr. Callahan?

Who might you be?

I'm Charles Ingalls.
This is Isaiah Edwards.

I'm sorry I had to be
the one to break the news.

I have
some questions.

At least a hundred,
I expect.

It's my lunchtime. Will
you gentlemen join me?

Mr. Callahan!
Page one proof!

I counted
11 typos,

and that was just the fast look.

Later. Gentlemen.

But the bulldog edition
rolls in 20 minutes!

- I'm going to lunch.
- Lunch?

You heard me.

You got problems,
fix it.

Best roast beef
in town!

You're about four
hours early, Mr. T.

- Have you taken the day off?
- 3 whiskies.

Friend here
doesn't use it.

3 whiskies.

To a better day.

Johnny was
a fine boy.

Clean and decent,
eager and hard-working.

And he had better
newspaper instincts

than any boy
I've ever hired.

I put him on
as a copy boy.

Next thing,
he wanted to be a reporter.

Every morning,
he'd have a story on my desk.

Nothing I could use,

but written
so the words

came off
the paper singing.

How'd it happen?

The rain and the dark
on west o'brien street.

Brewery
a half block away.

Bar wagons coming
and going all night long.

The driver never
saw Johnny.

We loved Johnny.

Not just me,
but...

All of US.

He was so good.
So much to give.

He would've had his
own byline in 6 months,

maybe sooner.

How do I find this driver?

The brewery's 6 blocks
straight down the street.

Works
the night shift.

Starts at 7:00.

What's his name?

Jacob Schultz.
Name's on that paper.

If he drinks
what he hauls,

maybe that's why
he didn't see John Jr.

I know how you feel,
Mr. Edwards.

No, you don't.

Mortician's name and
address. You'll need that.

An honest man.

And the rooming house
where Johnny lived.

I sent him
to Mrs. Baxter

because she could
cook for the angels.

She loved Johnny
like he was her own.

And this...

The things that were
in Johnny's pockets.

I got them for you
from the police.

Joe,
another one!

Right, Mr. T.

Thank you, lad.

Said it had
11 typos.

Still got 4.

My aunt's cat could do better!

If you see Alex
hill before I do,

tell him
he's fired.

I expect you gentlemen will
be going home in the morning.

If you need me, you know
where to find me.

Again, I'm sorry
for your troubles.

Best newspaper man in
this or any other town.

A little tough on his
hired help, isn't he?

Joe: You mean the man
he fired?

Think nothing of it.

That's the fifth time
he's fired him this month.

Fine whiskey. Be a
sin to let it go to waste.

Mortician: I think you'll
find that's everything,

and in proper order.

Now, if you'll give me
your departure time,

we'll see to it
that your son's casket

is placed aboard the train.

Railroad regulations
require that one of you

ride with him
in the baggage car.

Yes,
we were told.

What do I owe you?

Nothing. The bill's
been paid in full.

Who?

T. Callahan.

Why would he
want to do that?

Well, t. Callahan's
the kind of person

that we'd
all like to be.

If you doubt me, ask the first
hundred people you meet on the street.

We'll let you know
about the train.

And thank you
very much.

Charles: Isaiah?

- Yes?
- Mrs. Baxter?

Isaiah.

You have to be Isaiah Edwards,
John Jr.'s father.

He talked
of you so much,

I'd have known
you anywhere.

Well, come in,
come in.

Isaiah:
This is Charles Ingalls.

Charles Ingalls,
Mary's father.

Oh, he spoke
about you, too.

You and Mary,
and Caroline, your wife,

and your
little ones.

Charles: Yes, ma'am.

Won't you
have a seat?

Now, kettle's on the fire.
Nice hot tea in a minute.

And then
I'll show you his room

and his things.

We haven't got much time,
Mrs. Baxter.

We have another
man to see.

Why,
Mr. Callahan would never forgive me

if I let you go
wandering off in the rain

without tea.

Now, it'll just
be a moment.

Mrs. Baxter: Johnny's pride and joy,
his typewriter.

Mr. Callahan
gave it to him.

A gift to the newspaper
from the manufacturer.

Johnny could
write faster with it

than he could
with a pencil.

Ma'am...

You took real good care
of John, Jr...

And for that,
I dearly thank you.

I'll send
for his things.

Charles: Excuse me.

We're looking for
a Jake Schultz.

Jake Schultz?
That's me.

What do you want?

You ran over my son. Killed him.

Oh, ja.

Worst thing that
ever happened to me.

The rain was
coming down.

A black night.

I never seen a thing
until the horses shied.

It was too late
then.

Why didn't you see him?

Climb up on
the wagon seat

and look
for yourself.

A four-up in front of you,
all of them wanting to go,

knowing the route
better than me.

I swear to you.

There was just a bump
when the wheels hit.

I was the sickest man
in all Chicago.

Man: 'Tis the truth.

He was sick indeed.

I carried him myself
to mercy hospital,

but it was
too late.

The mud from your
ditch all over the street.

No wonder the
boy slipped und fell.

I didn't make the rain.

If prayers would
bring him back,

he would
be here now.

Man: If it's not
great trouble,

could you drop a half
a keg for my boys?

Working the way they do
in this kind of weather,

they can use it.

Talk to the boss.

Where did it happen?

Half a block.

Against the curb.

On your right.

Schultz:
Ah, mister.

If you have time
to spare,

I would like to have... you
have a meal with US.

My missus
und my 7.

Then you will know
that I am not one

to be running down young folks.

You!

Get back
to work!

Is this about where it happened?

Yeah, I guess.

Be right back.

There's times
when a man...

Don't lecture me,
Charles. I heard them all.

Isaiah: Charles, look!

What is it?

It's John's watch.

Are you sure?

Of course I'm sure. It was
his going-away present.

Open up!

Isaiah: Open up!

Get away from here
or I'll call the police.

Charles:
Open it!

I told you,
I'll call the police.

- Where'd you get this?
- I'm warning you, get out!

I said, where'd you get this?

I bought it.

No, I bought it
for my son.

And he'd never
sell it!

Now,
I want you to tell me who sold it to you?

I don't know.

One watch
looks like another.

Listen, this is
my son's watch.

And I want to know
who sold it to you.

I am a merchant,
mister.

18 hours a day
I stand here.

I buy, I sell.

Somebody offers
me something,

if the price is right,
I'll buy.

Faces... who
looks at faces?

You listen,
I want to know.

If you keep lying to me,
I'm gonna punch you right...

- Isaiah!
- Another step and I'll shoot!

You answer me!

I swear
I don't remember!

That's enough, Isaiah.

Come on.

Come on.

It's Johnny's, sure enough,
his proudest possession.

You bought it
at a pawn shop?

Took it.

The pawnbroker
let US take it.

It proves he
knows it was stolen.

Or the two of you
scared him silly.

He wasn't that scared.
He held a gun.

Where is this
pawnshop?

About a block
from the brewery

right where
Johnny was killed.

A lovely neighborhood.

Saloons, fancy houses,

pawnbrokers,
the machinery boys...

You name it,
they'll get it for you in the morning.

Near the brewery...

Has to be either
Rosie rosenthal's,

Isaac Abrams,
or Jack golden.

Jack golden.
That's the name.

T. Callahan: 12 Gauge.
Keeps it under the counter.

It's a good thing you guys
started walking.

He's used it before.

- Copy!
- Yes, sir.

Ask Mr. Hill to finish this for
me. I've got business elsewhere.

- Yes, sir.
- Gentlemen, if you'd follow me, please.

Golden: I am
an honest merchant.

Why do you bring
bring me trouble?

3 cents on the dollar,
and you'd do well to get that.

Go home, Mr. Callahan.
You're drunk again.

It'll be on page one of
"the express" tomorrow.

"Jack golden...
Thief, fence.

"The man who'd buy
the depot stove

"when it's still hot
enough to fry your hands,

and watches stolen from
the pockets of the dead."

Not me, Mr. T.

Callahan:
Who sold it to you?

Golden: Like I told
these gentlemen,

who looks at faces?

You do. You get
their names in your book

just in case
the police want to look.

Trouble.
Trouble!

These days,
a businessman

can't make an
honest dollar.

What would you know
about an honest dollar?

"John Smith."

"John Smith,

"Jane Jones,

"b. Jones,
Ryan o'Connor"...

There's a stranger
in a nest of snakes.

B. Jones,

sold you a watch
the day Johnny died.

B. Jones again.
Again.

Busy fellow,
Mr. Jones.

7 sales
in two days.

Some people need money.

"Watch, knife, guitar,
miscellaneous."

Sold you
everything

but the courthouse
clock.

Who is he?

Uh... black kid.

Jones is all
I know.

Then we'll be bidding you good night,
Mr. Golden.

But I'll be taking
this along with me.

There's a detective
sergeant I know

that would enjoy
looking at it

after "the express"
is through.

All right. We know
some black kid

is using the name
b. Jones

took the watch
off your son's body.

Maybe he saw
what happened.

We know what happened.
It was an accident.

If he was your son,
wouldn't you want to know for sure?

Well, I guess I would.

All right. You leave
the rest to me.

No, no, if you think
I'm going to...

Look, do me the courtesy
to listen, Mr. Edwards.

Johnny was your son,

but you and Mr. Ingalls are
farmers from Minnesota.

In your country,
I'd be totally lost,

not knowing which one of
the horses to tie the plow to.

In my town, you couldn't
even find the horse.

I know where to look
and what to look for.

And if I can't find it,

I can whistle up 20
reporters to give me a hand.

There's got to be
something we can do.

Callahan: There is.

Go get yourselves
supper and a nice rest.

See me in the morning
at the office.

Good night,
gentlemen.

- Where's Mr. Callahan?
- Mercy hospital.

Isaiah: What happened?

Police found him
early this morning.

Concussion, multiple bruises,
possible fracture,

unconscious...

Ambulance driver didn't
think he was gonna make it.

But the doctor says he's got
a head harder than an anvil.

I was hoping you could
tell US what happened.

We got no idea. How do
we get to mercy hospital?

Quickest way, grab a cab.

Mr. Callahan.
How is he?

As good as can
be expected. Better.

But no visitors.

If we don't talk. Just
sit with an old friend.

He can't talk...
Concussion.

Let US just look in,
and not a whisper out of US.

3 or 4 minutes,
no more.

And no talking.

Our word on that.

He writes
everything down.

I'm going to check
his clothes.

"B.j."

Charles: That's
got to be b. Jones.

Yeah.

1021 east 43rd street.

Let's go.

Charles:
Oh, excuse me.

Can you tell US
where 1021 is?

It's right
over there.

Thank you
very much.

Isaiah: Does b.J. Jones
live here?

No Jones in
this building.

- I thank you, ma'am.
- There's a b.J. Jackson.

Are sure you got
the right last name?

No, ma'am.
We're not sure.

Woman:
Well, I'm bessie Jane.

I think it's Bobby Joe
you're looking for.

Charles:
Yes, ma'am.

What about?

We just wanted to talk
to him... About a job.

Oh, I'm afraid
you missed him.

He's gets up
and gone early,

and works until
real late at night.

Won't you
gentlemen come in?

We don't have many
visitors anymore.

We'd like to
very much, ma'am,

but it's very important
we talk to b.J.

Could you just tell US
where he works?

Oh, if you're
looking for a worker,

he's a fine one.

He's a good
provider.

We couldn't
do better.

Ma'am, it's really important

that we get
in touch with him.

Could you
tell US where he works?

Oh, he works
all over the place.

My grandson don't let no
grass grow under his feet.

He says he's going
to buy US a home,

where I can have a
garden and flowers.

Of course, I tend to these window boxes,
but ain't the same.

We understand,
ma'am.

If you could just
think of a name,

where he works. It's awfully
important we talk to him.

I don't rightly
know a place.

But there's a...

A Mr. Drum...
Drummond,

that he's
terribly fond of.

He says he's the best
worker he ever had.

Drummond construction?

That's it!
That's it!

Yes, drummond construction,
as I recall.

Thank you, ma'am,
you've been a big help.

Bessie Jane: Oh,
if you see my b.J.,

you tell him
to get home early.

'Cause we're going to
have butter beans for supper.

You gentlemen are
welcome to join US.

We just may
do that, ma'am.

- Thank you.
- Thank you.

Charles.

That's got to be him.

Just take it easy.

Yeah, I'll
take it easy.

Excuse me.
Your name Jackson?

We're talking to you.
Is your name Jackson?

No, sir, Thomas.

William Thomas.

You sure?

Well, same
as my daddy

and his daddy
before him.

We're looking for
a man named Jackson.

We were told
he worked here.

Jackson.

Oh, y'all must
mean b.J.

Yeah. That's right.

Yeah, well,
he's a good man, all right.

He always butters
the bucket.

- What?
- The beer pail.

He butters the top so
we don't pay for half foam.

Where do we find him?

He went out for
sandwiches a while ago.

I reckon he'll be
back anytime now.

Man: Hey, b.J.,
this is liverwurst.

I asked for Bologna.

All they had
left, sir.

I got you
double slices.

That's
your man.

Hey, you! Jackson!

You cut him off! There!

Let me go!
Let me go!

Charles:
Just take it easy!

Let me go!

I don't
know nothing!

Don't know nothing
about anything!

Do you know
about this watch?

Answer me!

You ain't coppers.
I don't have to say.

I don't know nothing
about a watch!

All right. We're not police.
We could take you home.

Maybe you'd like to answer
some of these questions

in front of your grandma.

You leave grandma
bessie out of this!

Listen, this was
my son's watch.

We know you sold it.

Where did you get it?

Charles: Look, b. Jones sold a
lot of other things to Mr. Golden.

Maybe you'd like to tell your
grandma about those things, too.

It was just lying
there in the rain.

He didn't have
no use for it.

You mean, you picked it up
after the accident?

Don't know about
no accident.

But somebody hit him
awful hard.

Somebody? You didn't see
the brewery wagon?

The alley by o'brien
street is

too narrow for
a brewery wagon, mister.

Charles: Alley?

John, Jr. was killed
in the street.

Well, he
didn't walk there.

He was dead when
I took the watch.

It was dark and rainy,
and I couldn't see.

Come on. There's somebody
else I want you to tell this story to.

Isaiah: What I'm saying,
Mr. Callahan, is there

was witnesses
to that accident.

He swore to it.

You showed US
the police reports.

Now, what I'm saying is,
either them witnesses are lying

or this boy is.

The boy's telling
you the truth.

Can't you see that?

Ok, what about
the witnesses, then?

Callahan:
I don't know.

I mean, you talked
to the brewery driver.

You think he
was lying to you?

No, sir. But he
never saw John,

he said so.
Not till after.

Son, this man
you saw...

Big, you say?

Yes, sir.

But you couldn't
see his face?

No, sir.

But you must seen
something.

I mean, you knew it was a man,
not a cow.

Just a man
in the rain.

In the rain?

Did he have a hat?

A rain hat.

And a coat,

sort of like his?

Longer.

Callahan:
Like a slicker?

Maybe boots?

Yes, sir.

Mr. Jackson, for
a young man who

only got one quick look
at somebody in the rain,

I'd say you're
very observant.

Hand me my pants, if you would,
please, Mr. Edwards,

and my coat.

Mr. Callahan, what do you
think you're doing?

I'm going back
to work, my love.

Oh, you can't just
walk out of here.

You're my
responsibility.

And I'll be holding
you to that, Molly.

Your days off are next
Tuesday and Wednesday.

I think a nice
picnic in the park

with a cold bottle
of wine

will be just what
the doctor ordered.

- Mr. Callahan.
- T., my darling.

Now,
if you don't wish to be embarrassed,

I think you should
be turning your back.

Copy...

Go tell Mrs. Harris down at the
morgue I want to see her immediately.

Yes, sir.

- Did you see that?
- Yes, sir!

Good. I'm going to make
an honest man out of you.

Now, this $5.00 is
your first week's pay.

Now, to earn it,
you're going to place your behind

on that bench
over there,

and if you hear
anyone yell "copy,"

you're going to come a-running,
and you're going to do

exactly as they
tell you, ok?

Yes, sir!

If I ever so much as ever
hear you steal anything again,

even a broken pencil,

your britches
won't hold spit.

You got my meaning?

Yes, sir!
Thank you, sir.

Anything that fires my Irish
is not so much acting stupid,

as allowing myself
to be played for a fool!

What do you mean,
letting them fellas jump you?

Callahan: No, no.
It's not the first time

I've taken a lump
on the head in the dark.

It's for not realizing it's for the
same reason poor Johnny died.

I don't
understand.

Mr. Callahan!

It is not customary
that I be summoned

from my files
by a copy boy.

Ah, Mrs. Harris, my
apologies by the thousands.

Now, get this clearly.

I'm a tired man, and
I'm losing my Patience.

I want everything
from the morgue,

every low bid
on contracts

put out by alderman
Hendricks to the seventh ward.

Alderman Hendricks has been
in office since I was a little girl.

A long time, yes.

I particularly want the
notices on the low bid

awarded to Mr. Drummond of
the drummond construction.

How far back
do you want to go?

If you reach the extra
we put out

on the landing of the "mayflower,"
that would be fine.

Now go!

And send them up
as you get them!

What does it
mean, all this?

If my suspicions
are correct,

I think your boy Johnny
was in a man's job,

a newspaperman's job.

He died for it.

What are you
talking about?

I gave Johnny
an assignment.

Nothing important,
just human interest.

I wanted him to find out how the
residents along o'brien street felt

about having their pavements
ripped up every other week.

I guess Johnny checked around and
stumbled on more than just human interest.

I think he stumbled
on graft.

And they'd kill
him for that?

If there was enough money
involved, they would.

Who's they?

My guess is
drummond construction.

Annie, hold all calls.

Why would they kill
John? He was just a boy.

For the same reason
I got my lumps

when I started asking
questions down on o'brien street.

I should have known
something was wrong

when they didn't find
Johnny's notebook in his effects.

That boy was a demon
for notes.

Can you be certain
of this?

Callahan: Well,
I can be certain of one thing.

Johnny died in that alley.

Somebody dragged his body
out into the street.

There has to be a reason.

This is the
first batch.

The notices
are marked.

Oh, and Mrs. Harris says
there'll be lots more coming.

The reason's in here.

Names are drummond
and Hendricks.

Let's go to work.

Mr. Drummond!

Ah, t. Callahan.

What brings you back
down our way?

Callahan: Need the
answers to a few questions.

I read where you
were stove in a bit.

That's what I wanted
to ask you about.

Was it you or some of your lads
waylaid me evening before last?

Surely you're joking.

Charles: Over $200,000 a
year in construction contracts

doesn't sound
like a joke,

especially for
digging ditches.

T., who is
this gentleman?

Perhaps you should
explain to him.

No, you're the one that's
got some explaining to do.

Callahan:
You see, drummond,

this gentleman
is the boy's father.

The boy that stayed up nights
watching what you were doing down here

and asking questions why
you were laying sewer pipes

and fixing streets
that didn't need fixing.

Callahan, I don't have
to explain to you

that all I have to do
is call downtown...

Callahan: Oh,
alderman Hendricks, yes.

I have a few questions
for him also.

Why did you have to go and
kill such a fine boy as Johnny?

I don't know what
you're talking about.

Well, I do.

I've got a witness.

B.j.!

This is the man
you saw kill Johnny?

Same coat, same size.

Come on, Callahan.

"Same coat,
same size."

That won't hold up in
court and you know it.

But this will.

That's the ring
you described, son.

Lion's head
with Ruby eyes.

Callahan:
That's it, ain't it?

Don't be afraid, son.
That's it, ain't it?

Yeah, that's it.

Go to the alley.
Cut him off!

Mr. Callahan.

I ain't seen no ring.

You did fine.

Aah!

Worker: I think
his neck's broke.

He's dead.

Come on. Let's go.

Mr. Callahan,

I want to thank you
for the help.

Callahan: No need.
My condolences to your wife.

Thank you.

Thank you, too, b.J.

It's me who should
be doing the thanking.

I'm earning
an honest living.

It's not much,

but it's the first
copy off the press.

Grace will
like that.

John, Jr.'s name on it.

Callahan: Johnny
deserved the byline.

It was his story.

Thank you.

Driver.

Boy: Read all about it!

Alderman Hendricks
charged with fraud.

Contractor killed in attempted
escape. Read all about it.

Alderman Hendricks
charged with fraud.

Contractor killed
in attempted escape.

Paper!

Read all about it!

Alderman Hendricks
charged with fraud.