Original subtitles

- Mornin'. - Mornin'.

Looks like you've been cutting a hard trail.

How far to Fort Considine?

About 8 miles due East.

- Thanks. - Wait a minute.

- Sure you want Fort Considine? - That wrong?

The soldiers pulled out of there years ago.

Nothing there but the wind and the echoes.

Even the coyotes are lonesome up there.

8 miles!

Thanks.

Colonel Sykes?

That's far enough, mister!

Drop it.

FATAL MEMORY

I'll use it, I swear I will.

Guess you would.

Now kick it away.

What do you want?

I was invited.

- What's your name? - Josh Randall.

Who sent for you?

John J. Sykes, retired colonel of the Army of the Confederacy.

- Is that what you want to hear? - It's not enough.

I ate a lot of dust to get here. I'm not about to play games.

Let me see it.

- What? - The telegraph message.

I didn't say it was a telegram.

Please... I just gotta be sure.

Toss it over to me.

I'm sorry, Mr Randall.

I just can't trust anybody. Not now.

- Who are you? - Jody Sykes.

- I sent this message for my father. - Where's the Colonel?

He's in there.

Been a long time, Colonel!

Drop the "Colonel". I haven't worn a uniform since Appomattox.

You look spiny as ever.

Think so?

Take another look.

Four bloody years of war with hardly a scratch.

I retire and get this.

How did it happen?

Show him, Jody.

"Wanted for murder.

"$1000 reward for the capture dead or alive

"of Colonel John J. Sykes"

What kind of foolishness is this?

- Can you believe that, Randall? - Sure don't want to.

Federal seal. US Marshall's office.

It's a fake, a vicious trick

to kill an innocent man!

They got no law in town. Jody wired the Marshall last night.

Well, we round up the posters, put an end to it.

He's coming from Tuscon, 3 or 4 days away.

Father could be dead by then.

This country's crawling with bounty hunters.

You know what they're like.

I'm one of them.

I mean the money-hungry buzzards

with itchy fingers. - Kind who do that?

This came from a ranch hand after a job.

That poster in town put gold dust in his eyes.

Pretty soon it'll be pinned to every tree in the territory.

My father won't have a chance with that knee.

All right, Jody.

You've got to help us, there's no one else.

Someone wanted you dead who didn't have the guts to do it.

Back in the war every man in the regiment hated me.

Not like this, this is a simmering kind of hate.

Someone paid a printer good money to put a target on your back.

No self-respecting printer would take the job.

No more than 2 or 3 printers in these parts.

There's a newspaper in town.

Victor Flamm's paper. He's a good friend.

- He's got a press. - He's got no reason!

- He wants to earn a living. - Wait...

I know, he's a friend. But he's the only lead we've got.

Jody, you take care of your father.

Well, what did you find at the Fort?

This.

Come in, my eyes are not as good as they used to be.

John Sykes? Why ridiculous!

He doesn't think so. It almost got him killed.

- Got any more around? - What do you mean?

You're the only printer in town.

Listen, mister, John Sykes is a friend of mine.

I wouldn't print his name on a reward poster

for the President himself.

Whoever ordered this is one foot from murder.

The printer's guilty of forging a federal seal.

What's your interest in this?

John J. Sykes.

This isn't my work. Cheap stock, cheaper ink.

- Look at these margins! - I'm not interested.

Well, I am, it's my business.

When I lock up a type tray, it's set straight!

Anyone else use that press? You have any help?

Once in a while. Tramps mostly. They come and go.

Work long enough to buy a bottle of smiles,

then they ride out spouting big lies.

Where would they go from here?

Closest place is about 30 miles.

Hangtree Flats.

- Hey! - Don't worry, you'll get it back.

Afternoon, ma'am.

- Sorry! - Looking for somebody?

- You the boss? - That's right.

My name's Josh Randall. Can I ask yours?

Willie Jo Weems. What's on your mind?

Words, Mr Weems.

Words to engrave on the face of eternity. To free the soul!

Words to stain the fingertips.

- Printer's devil, huh? - At your service.

- And very reasonable, too. - You ain't been hired yet.

Learnt my trade with Horace Greeley.

Ain't a tramp printer alive can tell the truth.

Would you like to see an example of my work?

Your work?

The margins are a little untidy but the type tray warped in the sun.

I got all the help I need.

Nobody liked that poster, not even the US Marshall.

What are you after?

- Looks like I found it. - You better get moving.

Suppose you tell me why.

Make tracks, Randall!

I wanna hear about those posters!

You printed it. Who paid for it?

Tell me about that poster!

Wait! It wasn't my idea, I swear.

Whose was it?

I can't tell, I'd get a bullet in the head.

- Talk or I'll tear it out of you! - All right.

Ben Hood... it's Ben Hood.

He's been in jail for years.

No, no more.

- Where is he? - I don't know.

Please, Randall! I swear I don't know. I swear!

- Who is he? - Trouble.

Thanks for your company.

Any time, any time.

- Don't forget about us now. - Foremost in my thoughts!

We'll be seeing you.

Thanks for the drink!

You got back in a hurry from Hangtree.

- Friends of yours? - They paid for their drinks.

Could be after Sykes.

They were pumping me for information about him.

Promised me part of the reward.

There is no reward.

- They don't know that. - You do.

That's not enough. The posters say that John's a murderer.

You say the posters are wrong. That's not enough.

- They want strong hard proof. - I'll get proof.

- Where? - In the back issues of your paper.

- Do you mind? - Of course not.

There you are. They go back a year and a half.

Now... what are we looking for?

The man behind the poster. Ben Hood.

I don't know him.

A corporal in my outfit during the war. Got married, went AWL

to be with his bride.

Impractical but romantic.

They found him, 4 months later.

Tried him for desertion, he got 20 years.

I thought they shot deserters.

Sykes chaired the court martial. He recommended the prison sentence.

Hood should've been grateful.

There's his gratitude.

I can't understand.

How can a man accomplish this behind bars?

He was pardoned, maybe escaped.

The answer might be here.

Make yourself at home.

Leaving?

I'm older than you and I need my rest.

There's coffee on the stove. Good luck.

We'll be seeing you.

Mornin'.

Looks like you had a busy night.

- You sell the colonel to those men? - What's bothering you?

If you told them anything about Sykes, I'll take you apart.

- Slow down, Josh! - That's a promise.

You've registered your warning. What got you so riled up?

A death notice.

What?

It's all here.

Ben Hood died in jail 10 months ago. Typhoid fever.

But I thought...

Yeah, I thought that printer over in Hangtree was too scared to lie.

Well, that kills your vengeance motive.

Doesn't leave you much to go on.

Only my word. That doesn't stand for much in this town.

Jody?

Jody?

I've been looking everywhere for you.

- Where's your father? - I don't know, he's just gone.

- Since when? - Last night.

I went to get some food.

Couldn't have been gone more than an hour. I left the rifle here.

Did you hear any shooting?

I came back and he was gone. I've been looking everywhere.

Didn't know what else to do.

The first thing we're gonna do is interview a newspaper editor.

- Is that rifle still around? - No.

Let's get the horses inside.

Throw the gun away, Mr Randall.

Go on, throw it.

No tricks, mister!

You got all kinds of company.

If you're looking for Sykes,

he's not here.

We'll leave him to the bounty men. We want you, Randall!

I'm flattered.

We've been trailing you.

You could mess things up for us real good.

Move over this way, away from the gun.

Do what she says!

Mrs Hood is a strong-minded woman.

Ben Hood's wife.

He means Ben's widow.

Colonel Sykes killed my husband.

Typhoid fever killed your husband. He died in prison.

Sykes put him in there.

That was his job.

He took my Ben.

Ben would be alive right now if it wasn't for that colonel.

He put him in jail!

He deserted in time of war.

To be with me!

With me.

That colonel hunted him down.

He hunted him like he was a dog.

He made us run and run and run!

All right, Clara.

Now it's different. Now the colonel will be doing the running.

Those bounty hunters will make him run till he drops.

Then put a bullet in his back.

Clara, we ain't got all day.

You might interfere.

That's why my brother's gonna kill you now.

I thought we'd get around to that.

Turn around, mister.

Why? Afraid to look a dead man in the eye?

Do me a favour. Turn around.

I'll look.

You watch him.

Who's in there?

Maybe the ghost of Ben Hood.

You'd better come out of there.

You hear?

Better come out of there!

Willie Jo!

That's enough, Jody!

Make her tell where my father is!

I don't know.

Maybe he's dead... maybe a bounty man gunned him down

and he's dead like my Ben!

That's enough, Jody.

Let's find your father.

Let's go.

Where's Sykes?

I wish we knew. That reward would make us a cloud for a hat.

Tell them the truth.

Better do what she says.

There is no price on Colonel Sykes' head.

The posters... were fakes.

Chance to make an honest dollar and she says it's a fake!

- Where's the colonel? - At my house.

Your house?

Yes, these two said they were going to search the fort.

I had to do something.

Well, what are you waiting for?

I don't know how to thank you.

Ain't there a bounty for bad bounty posters?

Tell you what, I think the colonel will pay one dollar

for every one you can find.

Wanna take care of Mrs Hood till the Marshall gets here?

Tell him what happened.

Where are you going?

Start collecting those posters. Man's gotta make a living somehow.

See you now!

Subtitles by Télétota