Original subtitles

DRIVER: Hyah! Hyah!

JIM: When I first went to work for Wells Fargo,

Dan Foster did me a good turn.

He left the company a short time later

to try his luck at silver mining,

and he struck it rich.

How rich I didn't know until a few weeks ago when he died.

His will named Wells Fargo his executor.

Being executor of an estate

isn't exactly our kind of a job,

but in view of the years

that Dan Foster had worked for Wells Fargo,

the company asked me to run down his heir.

That was his brother, John Foster,

and I was on my way there now.

JIM: Hold it!

Throw down your gun!

Guess I was overanxious.

$1,000 is more money than I've ever had in my life.

$1,000?

If you'd have killed me, you would have gotten exactly $122.

What?

You think I'm a road agent?

Aren't you? Hold it.

I got a reward dodge in my pocket.

You're bounty hunter. Sure. Why not?

Man's gotta make a livin' best way he can.

You fit the description.

Six foot one, 180 pounds.

I happen to be a Wells Fargo investigator.

This is Indian country.

There's no Wells Fargo office around these parts.

I didn't say there was.

But there's an Osage trading post around here, I understand.

I was heading that way myself. I...

I'll ride with you.

You lead the way.

Julie!

You're not gonna need a gun.

These Indians are all friendly.

You never can tell.

Well, howdy Gents. Howdy.

I haven't seen a white man in two or three weeks,

or maybe it's been two or three months.

You live with Indians,

you don't pay no attention to time.

My name's Jim Hardie. I'm with Wells Fargo.

How are you, Mr. Hardie?

Wells Fargo...

Say, I haven't heard of Wells Fargo

since I left civilization.

Nothin' around here your company would be interested in.

I'm lookin' for a white man name of John Foster.

Foster, huh?

I don't recall the name.

He wrote a letter to his brother from here seven years ago.

That's the last anybody heard of him.

Seven years, huh?

Well, I was here then,

but I don't recall anybody by that name.

He wouldn't be using the name Foster.

What do you know about it?

I tried to show you this back up the trail.

"Wanted for murder. John Foster.

$1,000 reward."

Signed "Willis Toomey, Sheriff, Pineville, Missouri."

This is seven years old.

Reward's still good.

Is that all it says on that piece of paper?

Wanted for murder? No description?

No, it says, he's 31 years of age,

six foot tall, no scars, stuff like that.

Then on the bottom it says,

in real big print, like you can see, "dead or alive."

Dead or alive? Mm.

Just about the time I get to thinkin' if I'm missin' somethin'

livin' with the Indians,

somethin' like that comes along.

Why, you can keep your civilization, Mr. Hardie.

I'll stay with the Indians.

I see what you mean.

Yours, Frisbee?

She works here.

JIM: I'd like to get one thing straight.

Hobson's on his own.

He rode up here with me,

but I never saw him before this morning.

He's a bounty hunter.

Only difference between us, Hardie,

is you got an outfit pays you regularly.

I take my chances.

You're after this John Foster same as me.

But for an entirely different reason.

He killed a man, seven, eight years ago.

County posted a reward for him.

I want him for that reward.

You want him 'cause he robbed Wells Fargo.

No, I don't want him for that, either.

All right, he didn't rob Wells Fargo.

He must've done something,

or you wouldn't be lookin' for him.

The poster says that he's 31 years old.

That was seven years ago.

Now he'd be a man 38.

Are you sure you haven't seen anyone to fit that description?

Not that many white men come through here.

Oh, I'd remember him.

You savvy white man talk?

I asked you a question.

Nobody walks out on me, Indian.

Get out of here, Hobson.

You're a troublemaker.

All right, you've had enough.

Sorry about all this mess.

Oh, it's all right.

It was worth it.

You know, Hobson might have been

on the right track after all.

The Osages may know something.

Would you mind if I ask her a few questions?

White Bird? Yes?

He's employed by Wells Fargo.

I know about Wells Fargo,

but I know nothing of Mr. John Foster.

Perhaps Running Deer, who is older than I, will remember.

And who is Running deer?

Spotted Tail's sister.

That's her teepee outside.

Thundercloud, her husband, he's a white man.

Oscar Shepley's his real name,

but I haven't thought of him by that name in years.

Let me get it straight.

The Indian who was in here,

his name was Spotted Tail.

He's got a sister named Running Deer,

and she's married to a white man,

whose name is Oscar Shepley.

That's right.

Oscar's Osage name is Thundercloud.

I've gotten so used to that name,

I guess I even think of him as an Indian.

And how old a man, would you say he was?

40, 45.

Say, you're not thinkin' he might be John Foster?

How long have you known him?

Ever since I been here.

I mean, well, uh...

he was here when I bought this tradin' post.

And that was about seven years ago.

Longer than that.

Eight years. Closer to nine.

I've heard it said that

nothing happens in this country back here

that the Osages don't know about.

Yeah, but they don't talk.

I sometimes think the longer I live among the Osages,

the less I know about 'em.

I think I'll go out

and have a talk with Thundercloud.

Thank you, White Bird.

My brother-in-law told me you did him a favor inside.

I couldn't stand there and see him shot down.

He is an evil man.

Yes, he is that.

I was wondering, Mr. Shepley, if I might talk to you?

Call me Thundercloud.

All right, Thundercloud.

Possibly you've heard that

I'm looking for a man named John Foster.

Spotted Tail just told me.

John Foster.

I don't think I ever heard the name.

He passed through here seven years ago,

maybe a little more.

How long he stayed here, I don't know,

but he was here long enough to mail a letter.

Doesn't Frisbee remember him?

He says he doesn't.

Then I do not know a John Foster.

I have less contact with the white man than Frisbee has.

But you're married to an Osage,

and the Osage knows every white man

that comes into his country.

That's true.

Mr. Hardie,

some years ago, I chose a way of life.

The life of peace.

The Osage tribe are very peaceful people.

I have thrown in my lot with them.

I cannot help you.

I would not, even if I could.

Perhaps there's something I should explain to you.

The man, Hobson, over there,

he's a bounty hunter.

He's looking for John Foster,

so that he can collect a reward.

Mine's an entirely different reason.

I want to find him,

tell him that he's an heir to a fortune of over $100,000.

100,000?

His older brother Dan was a Wells Fargo agent for many years,

then he left the company.

He went into the gold fields in California.

There, he made a fortune.

A few weeks ago, he died.

He asked that Wells Fargo

be the executor of the estate.

And that's the only reason you're here?

JIM: Yes, it is.

It doesn't matter to me, not actually,

that he's a wanted man and hunted by the law.

Once I've found him and told him of his inheritance,

my job is finished.

$100,000.

You suspect that I might be John Foster.

Are you?

No.

And I would not want to be.

I would not like to know that I am heir to so much money,

and also know that I could not put a claim to it.

Not without putting my neck into a noose.

Well, good evening.

I have brought you something to eat.

Meat and biscuits, ha!

Well, that's a whole lot better than

these beans I'm tryin' to put away.

They smell good, too.

You're a pretty good cook, huh?

I have lived among white people in Santa Fe.

I was the servant in the household of the governor.

But you quit and come along back to your own people.

My mother was sick.

She's dead now.

I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am.

Mr. Hardie,

$100,000 is a great deal of money.

A man with that much money would be very rich,

even among white people.

Yes, I'd say so.

Very rich.

I have heard it said

that a rich white man can buy anything.

Well, that's not quite true, White Bird.

It is true that money can buy a great many things,

but it can't buy everything.

But money could be used to...

What is the word?

Bribe.

Yes, bribe is the word.

But that's not true, either,

'cause there are some men that can't be bribed at any price.

Now, the bribe you're talking about,

is that for the white man, John Foster?

Aah!

He's dead.

Now, where do you suppose, the squaw man is?

I smelled trouble the minute you two rode in here.

Well, it was us that caused the trouble.

I kill a man, I use this.

Bow and arrow's an Indian weapon.

I think you're forgetting there are a lot of white people

can use a bow and arrow, too.

Such as the squaw man?

Such as me. I can use one pretty good.

Just so happens, you and me are the only people

around here that couldn't have killed the Indian.

But you could have killed him.

You were less than 50 feet from him,

and you had an open shot at him.

All right, I shot him with a bow an arrow.

What'd I do with the bow then, swallow it?

No, you could have throw it away.

You start figuring like that,

you can go a long ways.

Anyway, there's no lawman anywhere around here.

Look, Hardie, we're no sooner here

than an Indian gets killed.

Why? Because he knew who Foster was.

How did he know?

Because Foster's married to his sister.

Well, I'll tell you this.

Foster lit out.

But he can't run fast enough

or far enough to shake me.

Come morning, I'll pick up his trail.

It's the squaw man.

You won't need that gun.

Your son is dead.

Who killed him?

I figure it was you, Foster.

Me? I just got here.

You didn't ride out just a little while ago?

I've been with Nicoma for the past two hours.

His hogan's five miles from here.

It's true. I saw him leave,

two hours ago.

Ah, she's lyin'.

These Indians are always stickin' together.

That's enough.

Get back in the house.

How's the chief takin' it?

What chief? Nicoma.

He's chief of the Osages in this part of the country.

Hmm. Foster knew what he was doin'

marryin' the chief's daughter.

You don't know that he's Foster.

You don't know that he ain't.

Let's try pinnin' down some dates.

How long have you known the squaw man?

As long as I've lived here, I think.

What do you mean, "you think"?

Either you know or you don't.

It's not too easy to remember things.

Time don't mean much to an Indian.

You're not an Indian.

I've lived among them so long,

I guess I get to think like 'em.

You.

When squaw man marry squaw?

You can talk straight.

She speaks better English than you do.

It is all right, Mr. Hardie.

I have met men like Mr. Hobson before

in Santa Fe.

Pretty sassy, aren't you?

I asked you a question.

So you did. HOBSON: And I'm waitin' for an answer.

You don't have to answer that question if you don't want to.

My son has been killed.

He had many good years to live.

It is not right that he should be struck down.

Our heart goes out to you, Nicoma.

But I think you can feel sure that whoever killed your son

will be punished.

Punishment will not bring back my son.

No, it won't,

but maybe his spirit can rest in peace.

Maybe his spirit will point out the murderer.

Maybe you can answer a question

I've been asking around here, Chief.

How long has your daughter been married to the squaw man?

I will answer that question.

I have been married to Running Deer for nine years.

That's your story.

I won't believe it until I get some proof.

These people have had a death in their family.

I feel they're entitled to a little privacy.

That's one thing about my job.

You learn patience.

Good night.

JIM: White Bird.

Were you looking for me?

Yes.

Mr. Hardie, because of me,

Spotted Tail was killed tonight.

Why?

He wished to marry me.

I did not want him because...

Because I have lived with the white people,

and I wanted what they have.

And because of that, I would not marry Spotted Tail.

And because I would not marry him,

he hated the white people.

Even the husband of his sister, Running Deer.

White Bird, I'm not like the man Hobson who...

looks for Foster just so he can collect a reward.

I want to find him so I can tell him about his inheritance.

Will you tell me? Is he here?

He is here.

Is it Shepley?

My people call him Thundercloud.

He did not speak the truth when he told you

he was married to Running deer for nine years.

It has not been that long.

Spotted Tail was going to tell you.

That's why he was killed.

He will kill you.

Unless I kill him.

Yes.

I won't do that, unless I have to.

He will kill you.

You go to bed, White Bird.

I don't kill very easy.

I noticed you didn't sleep over there.

Should I have?

And I don't remember this bein' here yesterday.

It wasn't.

John Foster left it there during the night.

Foster?

Then you're admittin' that he is here.

I never said he wasn't.

Hardie, I've spent a long time trackin' down Foster.

I've earned that thousand dollars, every nickel of it.

I'll cut you in for a third.

I'm no bounty hunter.

Wells Fargo pays me a handsome salary.

Well, they don't pay me!

Look, Hardie, don't try to block me.

The chips are down, and I'm a hard loser.

Foster, get out here!

Foster!

He's lit out.

This is it, Foster. Throw up your hands.

I am not John Foster. I told you that.

The reward says "dead or alive."

I can take you in either way.

JIM: Just a minute.

White Bird!

Last night you told me that Shepley lied

when he said he'd been married

to Running Deer for nine years.

She told you that?

I spoke the truth. This man is John Foster.

She is lying.

I know that she's lying.

Last night, someone shot at me with an arrow,

but they missed.

And they missed deliberately.

That's when she told me that you were John Foster.

She was hoping that I'd go after you and kill you.

That way you could never deny it.

Yesterday, Frisbee,

I told you about John Foster's inheritance

from his older brother Dan.

But what I didn't tell you

was that I knew Dan Foster years ago

when I went to work for Wells Fargo.

He was younger then.

He looked then exactly as you look now.

Why didn't you say so then?

Yesterday you would have denied it.

Are you gonna try to deny it today?

No!

Are you gonna kill me?

If I have to.

My job was finished when I told you of your inheritance.

John!

White Bird.

We have our own punishment for those who kill.

JIM: The grass is always greener

on the other side of the fence.

White Bird, an Indian,

wanted to live with the white people.

Oscar Shepley, a white man, wanted to live like an Indian.

I sometime wonder if the old Greek philosopher

wasn't right when he said,

"Count no man truly happy until he's dead."