Original subtitles

DRIVER: Hyah! Hyah!

Hay!

Hah!

Hay!

Whoa! Ho!

Hold on now!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Through and through.

Drilled through and through.

All right, climb on out of there.

Come on!

Hand that box down.

If you make a play, I'll kill ya.

We gotta get you to a doctor, fast.

I'll try and bring one back from Tucson.

Maybe it's better I go to Tucson. Yeah.

Get his clothes for me.

JIM: I'm Jim Hardie,

Special Investigator for Wells Fargo.

For over two years, trouble had stayed out of Tucson,

and then it hit.

Three stage robberies in less than a month.

I expected trouble,

but I didn't think it'd be waiting for me when I rode in.

Be mighty careful.

Another hold-up. Somebody get a sheriff.

Jim, I'm glad to see you.

Another hold-up.

This passenger tried to shoot it out with 'em.

He stopped a bad one.

Get him on over to Doc Baylor's. Hurry up.

Come over here, Tom.

All right, Tom. What happened?

Well, we was just past Pantano,

and four of 'em rode in.

That passenger tried to shoot it out with 'em.

Took a bad one before he quit.

And they grabbed the strongbox and rode out.

You the guard? That's right.

How long you been with the company?

Well, he just signed on, Jim, at Douglas.

Jack Harris, our regular guard,

went on a drunk, and the agent there fired him

and put Gates to work.

I notice you didn't stop any shots.

Well, I fired a few shots,

but I couldn't fight four men.

Why not? You got a gun that carries 16 shells.

You're sittin' up high on the box. Gives you an advantage.

Oh, it tweren't his fault, Jim.

We just didn't have a chance.

And that passenger like to have got us all killed.

Gates here was tryin', but, uh...

when I seen what the odds was, I told him to quit.

All right.

You better make your report to the sheriff.

Oh, I'm gonna do that right now. You stay here.

I'll go with you.

When you make your next run?

Well, we've got a day's layover.

I'll be at the house if you want me for anything, and...

so will Myra.

She's still single, Jim.

I know she thinks a lot about you.

Well, I think a good deal of her, too.

And where'll I find you, Mr. Gates?

Oh, I'll be at Olsen's.

He offered to put me up while we're here in Tucson.

Hmm. You're a lucky man.

Myra's a good cook.

I'm goin' over and have a talk with Doc Baylor,

and I'll see you later, Tom.

Sheriff's office is down the road.

We'll go together.

And we'll go to your place together.

Don't you try to lose me again.

Just remember, wherever you are,

my gun's right behind you.

Hello, Doc. Hello, Jim.

How's your patient?

I had to give him a sedative.

Needs a little rest.

How badly did he get hurt?

Strangely enough,

the wound isn't as bad as it looked.

The bullet entered just under the shoulder.

It missed the ribcage and traveled downward at an angle.

Well, that doesn't make sense. And why not?

Well, he was sittin' in a stagecoach.

He was on the same level with the man that shot him.

How's it gonna go downward?

Well, there's no accounting for the ways of a bullet

when it's drilled into a man.

And, I've looked through a lot of 'em.

I've probed for a dozen in the last few months.

Sometimes I find 'em. Sometimes I don't.

This fella's lucky.

He can use his for a watch fob in a day or two.

Can I see it? Help yourself.

You didn't exaggerate when you said he was lucky.

That's a .44-40.

I thought it was a .45.

.44 slug with 40-grain powder charge behind it.

This is all he had on him?

Just about.

Name's William Jackson. Douglas, Arizona.

He's a broker in land grants and mining claims.

You plannin' on putting him up here?

No reason to.

He'd be a lot more comfortable in the hotel.

They must've got to him pretty quick.

He only spent two bullets.

I thought I'd find an empty gun.

I'm surprised that he used it at all.

After all, land brokers don't have much occasion to use a gun.

Most of them don't know how.

He's got each one of those bullets notched.

I don't understand why.

If you ever take one out of a man that stopped one, you will.

When a notched bullet goes inside of a man,

it explodes inside of him.

Mushrooms like a sunflower.

I've seen 'em run men out of town

just for havin' one in his gun belt.

When he wakes up, you tell him I wanna have a talk with him.

By the way, what caliber is this?

.44-40.

This is where I live. This is where we live.

You won't get away with this, mister.

If I was you, I'd just ride out of here while I had a chance.

But you ain't me.

What happens if the sheriff or Jim Hardie

or somebody finds out about this?

Lot of folks gonna find themselves dead.

You're gonna be the first.

Maybe it's better I was dead.

When a man lets himself get pushed into something like this,

maybe it's better.

Maybe, but just keep thinkin' on it, Pop.

Just keep thinkin'.

Hello, Dad.

Myra. I thought I heard your voice.

Myra, this is Fred Gates.

He's taken over Harris' job as guard.

What happened to Harris?

Well, he... got drunk.

They fired him.

That's strange. I didn't know he drank.

It's a habit most of us pick up somewhere along the line.

Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Gates.

I didn't mean to stand here chatting.

Come in. Thank you.

Your daddy didn't tell me

he had a pretty little gal keepin' the house for him.

Now I can understand why he didn't want to get his self killed

when they stopped the stage.

I guess he sure wouldn't want anything

to happen to you, either.

Was the stage stopped?

Yes, they shot a passenger and...

took the strongbox.

And you were the guard?

I was the guard.

TOM: They rode in from all directions.

Any man who tried to fight 'em would just be...

committin' suicide.

Jack Harris would have tried.

You know that, Dad.

Well, now, maybe he would,

but he'd be dead right now if he had.

I like being alive.

I'd also like a drink, if you got one to spare.

Myra, get him a drink.

You gotta do better than this, Pop.

You gotta act natural.

You gotta keep your story straight.

Because if you don't, Myra's gonna start asking questions,

and I'm gonna have to give her that one big answer.

They took the strongbox, and they lit out.

That's all you saw. That's all you know.

You make any mistakes, I may lose a brother.

But you're sure as you're sittin' there,

you're gonna lose a daughter.

Brother?

As long as you know this much,

you might as well know the rest.

I'm Big Duggin.

My brother who got himself shot... Notch Duggin.

Yeah.

No wonder Harris was killed.

Here's your drink, Mr. Gates.

TOM: Myra,

me and Gates have got something to talk over.

You run along and visit with Mrs. Cassidy.

There ain't nothin' we're gonna say she can't listen to.

Besides, gettin' on close to suppertime.

I'll be lookin' forward to one of them home-cooked meals.

Your daddy here says you're a real good cook.

We're having stew.

I'll put the dinner on the table.

Dad, would you taste this and see what it needs?

Why'd you bring that man home?

TOM: Myra, don't ask any questions.

Just get supper on the table

and get out of here as fast as you can.

Get out of here, why?

Yeah, why?

Well...

Jim Hardie's in town, and, uh,

he and Myra are good friends and...

I thought maybe she'd like to stop by the stage station

and say hello to him.

Well, now, I heard of Jim Hardie, all right,

but I didn't know he was a special friend of yours.

He's a friend.

I heard he was quite a man with the women.

He's got himself one in every town

that's got a Wells Fargo office.

That makes for an interesting life.

I'd like another drink,

and a little hospitality.

No!

I said I want another drink.

Well, hello, Jim. Hello, Myra.

It's good to see you.

It's good to see you, too.

Is your daddy home?

No, he's just gone into town.

Good. That'll give us a chance for a little visit.

Well, fine. Come on in.

I, uh, hope you don't mind visiting in the kitchen.

I'm still doing the dishes.

Heh. Don't mind at all.

Matter of fact, I kind of like kitchens.

I'll bet you've been in quite a few.

Why do you say that?

Well, don't they have kitchens in Albuquerque, Santa Fe, Denver,

and all the other stage stops?

I suppose they have,

but I don't go around investigatin' kitchens.

Why not? Don't your women wash dishes?

My women?

Well, I understand you have a woman in every town.

Well, that's quite flattering.

It's not altogether true.

Who told you that? Fred Gates.

Incidentally, if he's any sample

of the men Wells Fargo's hiring,

I don't think much of your company.

Whether you think much of him or not, you just believed him.

Well, I didn't want to.

No doubt about there being a lot of pretty gals in...

Albuquerque and Santa Fe and Denver,

and I looked at a good many of them, too.

I'll bet you did.

That's about as far as it ever went, however.

You're still in love with Annabelle Sutton.

Well...

I suppose I am.

When did you last see her?

Actually, the last time I saw her was

Christmas Eve, five years ago in San Francisco.

Five years ago?

She must be everything you told me about her.

Well, I think she is.

What's keeping you in town?

This robbery. Doesn't make sense.

What do you mean, it doesn't make sense?

Your daddy told me there were four men held up that stage.

Yet when I went out there to check around a little bit,

I only saw the tracks of two men comin' down out of the hills.

Now, there could've been two others

that followed that stage all the way from Douglas.

If that was the case, we're gonna need an Apache tracker

to pick out their tracks.

Did you send a wire to Douglas?

Yes, I did.

I also inquired about the passenger, Jackson, that got hurt.

Even his story checks out.

Well... why shouldn't it?

I'm not sure I know the answer to that, either.

Well...

if it ain't that pretty little girl who cooked that fine supper.

Come here, pretty little girl.

I'm gonna give you a kiss.

Mr. Gates!

Maybe you and I ought to go outside and have a talk.

Well... tootie, tootie.

That's your fancy pants way of talkin' up a fight?

It could be.

All right!

Let's go outside.

You're pretty good with your hands, Hardie.

Fast.

Let's see how fast you are with a gun.

There'll be no more fightin'!

Gates here has been drinkin'.

He's had a little bit too much.

You leave him with me.

I'll get him to bed, and he'll be all right.

Myra, if she's worried,

she can stay all night with Mrs. Cassidy.

I promise you, Jim. There won't be no trouble.

I'll talk to you in the morning, Gates.

You do that.

How's it going, Notch?

Not too bad.

How soon you start that return run?

In about an hour.

But only if you feel up to it, boy.

You just say the word, he gets took drunk,

we lay over another day.

We got no reason to hurry.

NOTCH: We got one. Jim Hardie.

He was in to talk to me again today.

Let me tell you,

when he was in askin' those questions,

this was lookin' at him all the time.

I was still worried. I'm worried now.

As soon as that wrangler rolls that stage out,

you have him pick me up here.

Why can't you just leave me out of this?

I've done everything and said everything you told me to.

Now, look, you're the only man

that can get us out of this town,

and that's just want you're gonna do.

Otherwise, you're gonna take one right in the middle.

Them things spread, Pop.

They spread real wide. They make an awful mess.

And I'm gonna have to do the same for Myra.

Who's Myra? His daughter.

Oh, my, but she's pretty.

How much does she know? Nothin'

Otherwise, she wouldn't be stuck on that Jim Hardie.

Wait over there.

That's far enough!

Hey...

Look, you stay away from Hardie.

Keep Olsen away from him, too.

At the lake when we pick up the strongbox,

if there's any other passengers, we'll get rid of them, too.

Mm-hmm. Might as well. That lake's deep enough.

Hello, Jim. Hello, Myra.

I'd like to see Mr. Gates.

Well, he's not here.

He and Dad went into town.

So early?

Your dad doesn't leave for an hour yet.

Oh, I know, but he wanted to visit the passenger who was wounded.

He's quite worried about him.

No need to worry. He's all right.

Oh, come on in.

Sit down, Jim.

Can I fix you some coffee?

Oh, I don't think so, Myra. Thank you.

There wasn't any trouble after you left last night.

Dad and Mr. Gates both went to bed.

I know.

You finished up the dishes

and then sat up half the night.

Who told you?

A little bird.

Remind me to get you something soft

to sit on for your front porch.

So that's where you spent the night.

Frankly, Myra, I'm worried.

I keep adding up the numbers over and over again,

and I get a different answer each time.

I've been feeling the same way.

Dad's been acting so strangely lately.

Last night, I heard him talking in his sleep.

He's never done that before.

What did he say?

Through and through.

He kept repeating it.

Through and through.

When I asked him this morning what it meant,

he said it didn't mean anything.

Through and through?

Through and through.

Doesn't make any sense to me, either.

Well, I better get on back to town, Myra.

Oh, I'll see you there then.

Dad didn't want to wait to have me put up his lunch,

so I told him I'd bring it in to him.

Well, if you got it ready, I'd be glad to take it in for you.

You won't have to make the trip.

Mm-mmm.

Then I wouldn't have an excuse to see you again.

Well, I hope you don't ever need an excuse to see me, Myra.

Well, good day.

You got one passenger, Tom. Mr. Jackson.

You can roll as soon as you're ready.

Oh, Dad!

Here are your sandwiches.

Didn't you bring me any, honey?

I'm sure you'll find there are enough for both.

Have a good trip, Dad.

Hop in the stage, Myra.

We'll give you a lift home.

No thank you. It's only a short walk.

Well, there's no need walking when you can ride.

We can let her off at the house, can't we, Pop?

I guess we can do that.

Get in the stage, Myra.

I hope you don't mind, mister.

This is the stage driver's daughter.

We're gonna give her a ride home.

No difference to me.

As long as we get started.

Then you would agree with me, Doc,

that if a man were sitting on a horse

and he was fired at by a guard with a rifle

from the top of a stagecoach,

the bullet would travel the same course that this one did.

Yeah, but Jackson wasn't sitting on a horse.

Besides, it was a pistol bullet.

You told me yourself that it was a .44-40.

That's right. And a .44-40 can be fired

either through a Frontier Colt revolver

or a Winchester '73.

That's what makes it an interesting bullet.

I still don't know what you're driving at, Jim.

What difference does it make

whether the man was shot with a Colt or a Winchester?

I'm not sure I know myself yet,

but I intend to find out.

Get rollin', Pop.

TOM: Hah! Hee!

Hank? Yeah, Jim.

Where's Myra goin' on the coach?

Tom's gonna let her off near the house.

Whoa! Whoa! Hey, keep runnin'.

But why aren't we stopping at my house?

You just sit back and be quiet.

Well, they're going right past.

What have you got here?

I dug it out of the seat where the shotgun guard sat.

Must've gone clean through him.

Through and through.

That's what he was talkin' about.

We gotta stop that coach.

Get another man, get your horses,

and get an axe, and hurry up.

Whip 'em up.

Whip 'em up!

Hay! Hay! Giddy-up, Blackie!

JIM: That notched bullet could only mean one thing.

Someone had killed the real guard

and had taken his place,

and that someone had Myra and her father

as prisoners right now.

All right, now get out of sight. Quick!

Ho!

Ho, now! Ho!

Hold it!

Careful, Jim. This ain't Jackson.

This is Notch Duggin, and this is his brother!

I told you you didn't need an excuse to see me, Myra.

Get down.

Should've used the same kind of a bullet on him he used on Harris.

Where'd you leave Harris' body?

In the lake with the strongbox.

All right, put him in the coach. Let's get back to town.