All language subtitles for The.Hallelujah.Trail.1954.720p.DVDRip.x264.AC3-SARTRE

The land at first.

Mountains thrust forth
from the molten darkness of the earth.

Mountain and valley.

The virgin West.

High plateau and red rock of sandstone.

Wilderness West.

Prairie land, rolling on and on
to the end of sight.

Oh, pioneer West.

What fervent dreams lay half-buried
in this land of promise?

Dreams crushed by a cruel nature

or the lance of an Indian warrior.

Every page in history
must have its beginning,

and ours takes us to the year 1867.

An army that had fought
in the war between the states,

that had bravely battled
in many an Indian campaign,

now patrolled the West in a time of peace,

with ever-present thoughts of home.

The Indian was back on the reservation,

where the Peace Commission of 1867
had met with various warlike tribes

and secured certain promises from them.

In return, papers were given to Indians,

certifying them to be good citizens
who would obey the laws of the land.

Many gifts were distributed.

Beads,

pieces of cloth,

ammunition,

and war-surplus rifles.

Naturally, these rifles were
quite unfamiliar to the Indians.

Of course, it was understood
these weapons were to be used

solely for the purpose of hunting game.

The leaves fumed early in that year.

It could be a long, hard winter.

The signs were everywhere.

In the high country, the morning frost
would sometimes last until afternoon.

Buffalo were feeding ravenously.

Beaver were damming
and storing with strange vigour.

Horses and dogs were becoming
shaggy-haired as never before.

And it could be sensed in the booming,
bustling mining town of Denver.

Most historians agree that the events
leading to the Battle of Whiskey Hills

and the subsequent disaster
at Quicksand Bottoms

began here in Denver,
at a miners' meeting.

Such meetings were frequent and held
as part of the political fabric of the town.

But the meeting of November 4th
had a marked air of grim foreboding.

Quiet! I got an announcement
I gotta make.

In 10 days from now
the city of Denver will be bone dry.

No!

Not one drop of whiskey anywhere.

- Speak up! We can't hear ya!
- I said Denver will be bone dry in 10 days.

You heard what I said.
I said plumb out and I mean out!

Wait a minute. I thought Bert Keeler
was gettin' in a big order, but he was sick.

Sam Buford was gettin' in So barrels, but
Sam got his foot caught in that bear trap.

He didn't tell Shelby
to get his 50 barrels, so...

So with four big orders outta reach,
there ain't nobody else put in.

- Now, take this here saloon alone.
- That's all there is.

Look at it. And there's already been
snow flurries along Gunner's Pass.

If we get ourselves a hard, cold winter,

there won't be a wagonload of whiskey
in Denver till spring.

And it could be a late spring.

Hold it! So what we need,
we need us a plan.

Hey! What does Oracle say?

Afternoon, gents.

Oracle, what about this here winter?

The buffalo are feedin' ravenous.

The beaver are workin' somethin' fierce.

The horses and dogs are growin'
shaggy-haired like never before.

What else? Have you seen anything else?

Yep, I had me a vision on, uh...
Oh, it come on me two days ago.

- Well?
- What'd you see?

Uh...

Why, thank you.

At the feed store, it was.
Come on more sudden than most.

I was lookin' up, and there it was.

- What was it?
- Snow.

Heavy, white snow.

Yep, it's gonna be a long, hard winter.

And when a long, hard winter hits us,
by damn, she hits.

- No wagons gettin' through, no supplies?
- And no whiskey.

- You know.
- Yep.

It come on me two days ago.
We gotta have a plan.

- What kinda plan, Oracle?
- Uh, let me just...

There! Now I see it!

I see all of us a-comin' together. I, um...

I see us puttin' all the whiskey orders into
one big shipment for the whole winter.

I see us gettin'
an ironclad guarantee from, uh...

from some good company like, uh, uh...

Thank you. Like Frank Wallingham...

to get them drinkables to our saloons
right now afore the snows hit.

I, uh...

I see a wagon train, a whole
wagon train loaded up with whiskey

a-comin' down on us from Julesburg.

I see 20...

30...

40 wagons.

- Are you Hobbs?
- I am, sir.

- Did you print that?
- I did, sir.

- And who, may I ask, are you?
- Frank Wallingham.

I see. How do you do?
Won't you sit down, Mr Wallingham?

No. I wanna know why.
Why did you do it?

I've done nothing but print the truth.

600 barrels of Philadelphia-brewed
whiskey moving from here to Denver.

Yes. Then what happens when the Indians
get wind of 40 wagons full of firewater?

- They'll scalp us from head to foot.
- Indians don't read newspapers.

- Who says they don't?
- The Indian problem's all settled.

Haven't you read
the Peace Commissioners' report?

All right, then. Worse than Indians!
Revenue agents!

Oh... Haven't paid
your federal taxes, huh?

Of course I pay my taxes! I'm an honest
businessman. And a good Republican.

But give those snoopers a taste of honey
and they'll swarm down

from every direction but up.

- You have my sympathy.
- Sympathy?

It's because I didn't advertise in your rag,

- because I didn't give you free whiskey.
- You'd better get outta here.

You listen to me. I've got every cent
that I own tied up in this cargo.

By damn, I'm gonna see it gets to Denver.
You can print that, sir.

I shall.

I'm sending a telegram to
Colonel Gearhart at Fort Russell.

I am demanding an entire troop of
US cavalry as escort. Print that, sir!

- I shall.
- Good.

You should also put in your paper
that I say

that any tax snooper, white road agent
or Red Indian that comes near my wagons

had better be wearin'
cast-iron underwear.

And if you try to blackmail me
one more time,

I'll come back here and cram
this down your lyin' throat.

Good day, sir.

- Smythe.
- Yes, sir.

What's the name of that
temperance woman? Martindale?

Massingale, sir.
Cora Templeton Massingale.

Oh, yes, Massingale.
Do you know where she is?

On a tour of New England last month, sir.
Then Boston, to Philadelphia, to Trenton.

She may be a female hellcat
about whiskey, sir,

but a fine figure of a woman, with eyes...

- Smythe.
- Sir?

I asked you where she is.

Oh. At Fort Russell, sir.
She got there yesterday.

Fort Russell?

Send a telegram to her. Mark it urgent.

The editor of the Julesburg Gazette
was quite right.

Indians did not read newspapers.

It's a matter of speculation therefore just
how they did hear of the whiskey cargo.

There were couriers, of course,

and there was the smoke signal, first
used by the ancient Greeks and Hebrews.

How the Indians acquired it from them
is of no importance here. But they did.

Nor was smoke used exclusively.

A crude mirror, painted stone,

carved bark of trees were quite popular.

And a peculiarly knotted string.

The message was always
transmitted in code.

A code which no white man
was ever able to break.

Regardless of what method
was used by the Indians,

it's a matter of record
that news of the whiskey train

became common knowledge within 48 hours

to every tribe of every
North American Plains Indian.

We are still unaware why only one tribe
rode out to investigate the firewater train.

But it's supposed there was competition
among the various tribes for the honour.

It is for us to make reconnaissance
of wagon-train position.

It is for me to make such reconnaissance.

He is chief of Sioux.

And I am chief of Crow.

We will do it.

You will not do it. I will do it.

You and I are blocked.

Yes, we are.

Authorities agree that personal disputes
among the Plains tribes

were settled very quickly.

Just south of Cheyenne
stood Fort Russell,

famous throughout the West
as a bastion of military strength

and the home of the rugged,
disciplined, frontier soldier.

And now, ladies, I give you once again
Mrs Cora Templeton Massingale.

Oh, thank you, thank you!
Your reception has warmed my heart.

Ladies, you have heard it said
that man is all mouth and muscle,

that he is dirty boots on one end
and a dirty mind on the other.

Don't you believe it.

If we are to enjoy equal rights with man,
we must respect him,

and, if we are to respect him,
then we must save him from himself

and from the poison of alcoholic spirits!

- Do you agree?
- Yes!

Then let the world know it.

Let us spread the word of emancipation
to every comer of this great nation.

Emancipation! Let me hear it!

Emancipation!

- Freedom for women!
- Freedom for women!

Shout it out, ladies!
Women can remake the world!

Women can remake the world!

Ladies! Let me hear it!

Emancipation!

- Shout it out!
- Freedom for women!

- Once again!
- Women can remake the world!

What do you think, Sergeant?

I hate to say it, Colonel, but it sounds like
Sioux or Cheyenne war cries to me, sir.

An uprising at the fort?

- Ridiculous.
- Yes, sir.

Those are bugles, sir.

That's cannon, sir!

- Form a skirmish line to the left!
- Form a skirmish line to the left! Ho!

Draw carbines! Ho!

Company B returning. Open the gates.

- My God! She's on fire, sir!
- Charge!

- You!
- Good evening, Colonel.

Bandmaster, front and centre.

You're under arrest.
This entire band is under arrest.

You're confined to quarters
until further notice.

Dismissed!

Who are the idiots
who fired those cannon?

- Sergeant Perkins.
- Private McIntosh.

- Private Johnson.
- Private Williams.

Report to my quarters
tomorrow morning at nine.

Yes, sir.

Brady.

Return carbines.
In file, prepare to dismount.

Dismount.

Madam. Article twelve, section seven,
paragraph two of army regulations

states: "Government property cannot
be used for political demonstrations."

Sir, we have never designated
our movement to be political.

Article nine, section two, paragraph four
of army regulations clearly states

that civilian meetings may be held
at military installations

when permission has been granted
by the commanding officer.

The commanding officer? I see.

Forgive me, madam. We've been on patrol
for six days. I'm somewhat weary.

Captain Slater gave you
permission in my absence?

He did.

- Brady, I want this mess cleaned up.
- Yes, sir.

Ladies, I see you have transport.
You'll be escorted back to town.

The party will leave
in five minutes exactly.

- Madam, do you have quarters here?
- I have.

Then you may retire
to those quarters, madam,

and remake the world on some
other occasion. Good evening.

- Buell.
- Sir!

- Buell, get me Captain Slater.
- Yes, sir.

Excuse me, sir.
Did the colonel wish to see me?

- Where the hell did you come from?
- I couldn't help but overhear, sir.

I want the colonel to know that what
happened tonight, the way it happened,

was so quick that I hardly
had time to marshal my forces.

Did you give that woman permission
for a temperance rally?

Yes and no. That is, I had no idea
it would get outta hand, so to speak, sir.

What the hell did you expect?

Give a woman an acorn
and you're up to your rump in oak trees.

That's very true, sir. And I am sorry.

If only they hadn't started moving...
that is to say, marching.

- Led by the Fort Russell band.
- I'd say that Mrs Massingale led them.

The band came next. You see, they were
playing The Battle Hymn of the Republic,

and every time they got to
"Hallelujah" - boom!

- I'm sorry, sir, about the cannon.
- Spare me the details.

Slater, what if word got out

that Fort Russell stood behind
a temperance movement?

That I, a line officer,
could ever support such a movement?

Well, you got a point there, sir.

- And you let them go right ahead.
- Well, I, uh...

Actually, I was trying to keep the colonel's
daughter out of it, for your sake.

What's my daughter got to do with this?

- Well, your daughter...
- Please.

I beg you not to hold
Paul responsible, Father.

It was my fault. I was the one who...

She was not. And I refuse to allow her
to accept responsibility. I was the one.

- You were not.
- Yes, I was.

Paul...

- In my own quarters.
- We're sorry, Father, truly we are.

- B-but...
- But what?

But...

But may I point out, sir, that you have
the only private quarters at the fort,

and we didn't expect you back so soon.

It's true that Miss Gearhart
has her own quarters, sir,

but I thought that my presence there
might put her in a compromising position.

- Since my own quarters are shared, sir...
- Slater! Answer me.

- I'm trying to, sir.
- He isn't either, not truthfully.

He wasn't keeping me out of the
temperance meeting, I was keeping him.

I thought he might try to stop
the marching, so this seemed a lovely...

I mean, a way... to divert him.

Louise.

You don't really mind, do you, darling?

I mean, you certainly couldn't have
enjoyed yourself any the less.

Louise!

Well, I'd do anything for
Cora Massingale and her cause.

And if you've hurt her, Father,
I'll never forgive you.

- Slater.
- Yes, sir.

The women, the rally, the cannon.
I'll chalk it all up to your inexperience.

Thank you, sir.

But you cannot... you simply cannot use
my quarters for... for this sort of thing.

I'm sorry, sir.

Why don't you just get on with it and
marry the girl? Stop all this lying around?

Well, the colonel knows my feelings about
that, sir. The West is no life for a woman.

The West is no life for anyone.
Wind, dust, Indians.

I hate the wind. I hate the dust.
And I hate the Indians.

Yes, I know. And until my transfer
comes through to an eastern post, I'll...

I'll drink to that.

To you and Louise and a transfer.
There you are.

- I can't, sir.
- Why not?

I haven't said good night to Louise yet.
The liquor on my breath...

- She knows you drink, she knows I drink.
- I know that, sir, but...

if you had seen her at that meeting
tonight. She heard Mrs Massingale.

Her eyes all lit up.
Frightened hell out of me, sir.

All right. Go to her.
Do whatever it is you do.

- Thank you, sir.
- But not on my bear rug!

No. No, sir.

Slater.

Here. Escort for a wagon train.
Fella named Wallingham.

Taxpayer, good Republican.

I want you to figure out how to intercept
the train and escort them to Denver.

Denver? That'll take over a week.
I promised Louise...

I know, I know. She'll cry, of course.

Just tell her duty is a cruel master.

Yes, sir. Duty... is a cruel... master.

Yes, sir. Thank you. Good night, sir.

Colonel Gearhart?

Colonel?

Colonel?

I, uh...

I don't wish to intrude on your privacy,
Colonel, but... this is vitally important.

I'm taking a bath.

The sight of a gentleman taking his bath

is not foreign to a woman
who's been widowed twice.

Well... Would you care to have a seat?

No, thank you. What I have to say
is best said standing.

You'll forgive me if I don't get up.

It's not necessary.

Mrs Massingale, I've already told Captain
Slater I won't hold him responsible.

In your case, I've written off
the entire incident. So now...

That's not why I'm here.

I have received a telegram from Julesburg
that distresses me deeply.

It says a train of 40 wagons left there
yesterday bound for Denver

and that you are to furnish
military escort for that train.

Is that information correct?

I received a request to that effect, yes.

Were you aware, Colonel, that the cargo
of those 40 wagons is alcohol?

- No, ma'am.
- Well, now you know.

Tell me, Colonel, are you
going to furnish escort?

Yes, ma'am.

I respectfully request
that you reconsider, Colonel.

In the name of suffering humanity,
I implore you to halt that wagon train

and destroy this poison
that they're carrying.

What you ask is... What you ask
is impossible. The cargo is legal.

I have no grounds nor wish
to destroy civilian property.

And now, madam, will you
leave me to my bath?

Is it legal to sell whiskey to Indians?

Who said anything...
Who said anything about Indians?

The cargo is headed for Denver,
for businessmen there.

- How do you know?
- I have the owner's word for it.

Mr Frank Wallingham,
who is an acquaintance,

a taxpayer, and a good Republican.

Well, in that case,
you force me to take action.

Our movement has many friends
in many high places.

Men such as... Horace Greeley.

Is that a threat?

You can consider it such if you like.
My conscience forces me to make it.

And mine demands that I do my duty.

So be it.

May I impose upon your kindness for
directions to the post telegraph office?

Mrs Massingale, I'll do better than that.

I'll furnish you transportation
to the Cheyenne telegraph office,

where your messages are sure
to get out twice as quickly.

Thank you.

Call on me again if there's
anything further I can do.

You're a very generous man, Colonel.

Right tum! Ho!

Three telegrams, sir, just arrived.

Read them.

"The Governor of Colorado is
against liquor and its vicissitudes,

but his position makes it impossible
to take a position

in the matter of whiskey cargo to Denver."

"The Adjutant General's office is
grateful to Women's Temperance

for the splendid morale factor they have
upon the American soldier. However..."

Whiskey matters must be left
to commanders in the field.

"Respectfully."

"Mr Horace Greeley

has ever championed the noble cause
of temperance and suffrage,

but is unable to interfere with
constituted authority of the West."

Buell. Give these to Mrs Massingale
with my compliments

and arrange transportation for her.
Her movement is moving.

Yes, sir.

On the morning of November 16th,

the Wallingham wagon train was moving
along north of the South Platte River.

At the head was its owner,
Frank Wallingham,

and its wagon master, Rafe Pike.

To the rear was a group of Irish teamsters

under the leadership
of one Kevin O'Flaherly.

The Slater patrol was turning south

towards the course
of the Wallingham train,

and a band of Sioux warriors
was on the move,

led by the great Chief 5 Barrels

and his sub-chief, Walks-Stooped-Over,

who was also known in certain
Indian circles as Sky Eyes,

due to the blue colour of his eyes,

the heritage apparently of some slight,
uh... irregularity in his ancestry.

- Please, Father, be reasonable.
- No.

If Mrs Massingale wants a farewell
meeting, she may use the mess hall.

But I will not attend.

But we're not asking you
to take the pledge.

Although a bit of temperance
might make you happier.

No red-blooded drinking man
is more temperate than I am.

And I'm happy. I'm damned happy.

If you would only try to
understand Mrs Massingale,

a woman who's lost
two husbands to alcohol.

They drank themselves
into an early grave.

I can only wonder why.

Do you absolutely refuse, Father,
to attend this meeting?

I do, and I'm beginning
to regret giving you the hall.

The least you can do
is release the post band.

No.

- But we can't sing hymns without them.
- Good.

- There's no point in having the meeting.
- Splendid.

Please, Father.

It means so much to us.
And Mrs Massingale is leaving.

We may never see her again.

- Can I depend on that?
- Oh, I never go back on my word.

I shall say goodbye at the meeting.

Well, maybe the trombone.

Thank you, Father. You're a dear.

- And the drums?
- No. No drums.

Good afternoon.

- What's goin' on over there?
- Singing, sir.

- You have guards at every exit?
- As you ordered, sir.

You'd better double the guards.
Check the exits yourself.

If they break out of that hall
in marching formation...

- That's what happened to Captain Slater.
- Yes, sir.

Ladies, our enemy has two heads.

First, the enslavement of women by men.

Yes.

And second, the enslavement
of men themselves

by the remorseless tyrant alcohol.

- Are we willing to fight these enemies?
- Yes.

Then we must reach out for freedom,

and tear this tyrant from the lips of man.

Now, ladies, I have
an announcement to make

to each and every one of you
who has touched my heart.

The time has come for me to say goodbye
to all you wonderful women...

Thank God!

Something has occurred
which requires my presence elsewhere.

- I am going to the city of Denver.
- Denver?

I know, I know. You ask me
"Why Denver?" I'll tell you why.

Because 40 wagons of whiskey
are going to Denver right now.

40 wagons of poison
for those poor misguided citizens,

and no one in high office seems to care.

Well, I do!

And I shall shout it over and over

until the mountains of Colorado come
tumbling down to the Denver saloons.

- Will your hearts go with me?
- Yes!

- Is our cause just and righteous?
- Yes!

- I've doubled the guards, sir.
- I want you to guard the main entrance.

- Do I have your blessings?
- Yes!

No!

No! I cannot let you go
to that sinful city alone.

If you'll have me, Mrs Massingale,
I'll go with you.

Get over there.
Drag my daughter off that platform.

Oh, how wonderful, ladies!

- Oh, ladies, we'll all go to Denver.
- Yes!

- We'll make it our marching song.
- Yes!

Well, Buell?

Just... tryin' to get my wind back, sir.

Knocked me flat, sir.

Did you hear what that... woman said, sir?

I did.

- But, sir...
- "But, sir" what?

How can we let them
go through with it, sir?

March to Denver through country like this,
without escort or protection?

What if they come upon
a bunch of Indians, sir?

I suggest we pray for the Indians.

Can the... the army refuse escort, sir?

From now on, the army will do
what I tell it to do.

What, uh... What do you intend to do, sir?

- Good morning, Miss Gearhart.
- Good morning, Sergeant Buell.

Go away.

Louise, will you please go away?

This should make you feel better.
Nice hot milk.

What's going on out there?

Will you stop that infernal uproar?

You will not under any circumstances
go off with that... that woman.

Yes, Father.

To Denver or anyplace else.
I want that clearly understood.

Yes, Father.

Now will you please leave me alone?

Is he better?

I'm afraid not.

Louise, go and get me some
more blankets. Lots of them.

I want him to perspire. We will
sweat the poison out of his system.

Blankets. All right, Mrs Massingale.

- Mrs Massingale!
- Lie back.

- Madam...
- Back.

Now... just be quiet, please.
Don't exert yourself.

- Madam, we have a surgeon.
- Just relax.

Let the blood flow.

Now tell me, Colonel, does
the pain centre lie about here?

Look, Mrs...

- It's a little higher.
- A little higher. Yes, of course.

- About this march, Mrs Massingale...
- Just unwind.

This march to Denver... impossible.

Right here, at this junction,
Colonel, a series of cords.

And beneath them, intertwined nerves
like fine silk threads.

Matters of... transportation.

Rattlesnakes...

All connected up to here
where the pain centre lies.

Examine my position.

Consider, if you will...

- Oh, that feels good.
- That's the key point.

First we rub gently downwards,

and then upwards,

and then downwards again.

Now you're beginning to relax.
I can feel it in my fingers.

I wish I could help you, but...

Army regulations.

Article 12,

section 26,

Paragraph,"...

That's right.

Relax. Relax.

Company, attention!

Company, attention!

Good morning, Colonel Gearhart.

Good morning, Father.

Morning, ladies.

- Who are those men at the gate?
- Husbands. Not all the ladies are single.

- What do they want here?
- The ladies are takin' their wagons away.

They want the colonel
to do something about it, sir.

- Sir.
- Well?

Does the colonel intend...

I mean to say, sir, will the escort party...

Sir, do you really intend
to go through with this thing?

Buell, you've got a great deal
to learn about military science.

A simple matter
of objective and stratagem.

Objective - get rid of these damn women.

- Stratagem...
- Take 'em to Denver, sir?

- Mount up, Buell. Mount up.
- Yes, sir.

- Move them out, Brady.
- Yes, sir.

Twos left!

Right tum! Ho!

Right tum! Ho!

Right tum! Ho!

Left tum! Ho!

- Buell!
- Sir!

One bugler, just one bugler joins in
with that singing, I'll have him shot!

Yes, sir.

It might be prudent right at this moment to
get our bearings upon this historic arena.

Julesburg is here.

To the southwest along the South
Platte River is the city of Denver.

North of it we find Fort Russell.

The Wallingham wagon train
had moved to this point on the river.

The first cavalry patrol
under Captain Slater - here.

The second cavalry patrol
under Colonel Gearhan' - here,

with, of course,
the temperance marchers.

And the band of Sioux Indians - here.

In the city of Denver, another
miners' meeting was being held.

Hold it! Hold it down.
This meetin' is called to order.

Tell me who called this meetin', what for,
and what's all the hollering about!

I did. Clayton, we gotta face the facts.

There's been no word from
that wagon train in two weeks.

- That's right.
- There's snow already at Grizzly Pass.

- Afternoon, gents.
- Oracle, the thing is we, uh...

- We got trouble.
- You know?

That wagon train
may not never get to you.

- Why not?
- Why, thank you.

It was all set on comin' to me.
I, uh... I was lookin' up and, uh... uh...

Thank you.

- There! Now I see it!
- What?

Uh... Injuns.

I see hundreds of Injuns.

You see anything else, Oracle?

I think, uh...

- I see men... I see men on the march.
- Cavalry?

Course not. This ain't no time for children.

I see men, men carryin', uh...

picks and, uh...

axes and, uh... uh...

uh...

shovels.

- Well, who are they?
- Denver citizens' militia.

A-marchin' out there
to intercept that wagon train

and see that whiskey gets home.

Hold on, Oracle. We're workin' men.
We're miners. We ain't lnjun fighters.

I ain't marchin' up any rivers, sleeping
on the rocks and cookin' on campfires.

You gonna spend the whole winter
in Denver without no whiskey?

At dawn the morning of November 17th,

the second cavalry patrol
was heading due south for Denver,

with of course the temperance marchers.

The Wallingham wagon train
was turning west.

The first cavalry patrol
was moving fast to intercept it.

The Denver citizens' militia
was making an easterly crossing

of the South Platte River,

while the Sioux Indians
were coming down from the north,

picking up more braves all the time.

Whoa!

For the beloved love of all the saints,
St Pat and Mike and Bridget,

and all the souls in purgatory, not again!

Call yourself a wagon!
You rotten collection of wood!

You ain't fit for carryin' swill to vultures!

Whoa!

All right, O'Flaherty. What's your excuse
this time, you ignorant immigrant lump?

Oh, lump, is it? Well...

All things being equal,
we'll be havin' a word with your lordship.

I told you I am not a lordship!

Can't expect an Irish serf to forget
the habits of a lifetime, now.

- Just get on with it.
- Well, now.

We, the Irish Teamsters,
have a petition of grievances.

We state in plain and simple terms

the bad conditions under which
we've been forced to labour,

and do hereby raise formal objection
to the followin', to wit:

travel hours and harnessin', unharnessin',

carin' for horses, loadin', unloadin',

beddin', guard duty,

poor drinkin' water,

order of wagons in march,
and, might I add, in addition to

no whiskey ration whatsoever

in a whole cargo of whiskey.

Now, suppose these grievances
of yours aren't answered?

- What'll you do? Strike?
- That's an ugly word to a workin' man.

- But it would be considered.
- Ah...

Well, in that case, O'Flaherty, you strike.

- Strike.
- And who, might I ask, pray tell me,

are you goin' to get to drive
your sweatin', rotten wagons?

- There are your grievances.
- We've struck off 12 more copies.

Exploiter! Capitalist!

Highbinder! Profiteer!

Mr Wallingham, I presume.
Captain Slater at your service.

Colonel Gearhart sends his compliments.

He's most happy to comply with
your request for escort to Denver.

Good for Colonel Gearhart.

Have you seen any Indians?
A scout informed me...

There aren't any Indians here. Haven't
you heard of the Peace Commission?

With a cargo like this,
you've got to be sure, damn sure!

Indians, revenue agents,
temperance women.

- Oh, you know.
- Know what?

- About Cora Massingale.
- Where?

It's all right. She's not here.

She's at Fort Russell
giving temperance lectures.

- Are you positive she's at Fort Russell?
- I positively guarantee it.

She isn't any nearer your cargo
than... than the Indians are.

Hope it's hot.

Wait till we get you in.

Sergeant, I, uh...

We've got a morale problem, sir.

Take care of it, Buell.

I think the colonel will have to
root it out, sir, right at the core.

The ladies, sir, are taking baths...

in the nude.

Mrs Massingale, I'd like a word with you.

Would you mind calling some other time,
Colonel? I'm taking a bath.

I am well aware that you're taking a bath.

I don't care how dirty you are. I will not
have you ladies bathing in the nude.

There's no other way I know of, Colonel.

The opportunity was there and...
who knows what tomorrow might bring?

Especially now that
we've changed our plans.

- Changed your plans?
- Yes, Colonel.

You mean you want to go
back to Cheyenne now?

Don't be ridiculous. Of course not.
We want only to meet the wagon train.

But you are meeting the train.
That's why we're going to Denver.

But we want to meet it
long before it reaches Denver.

- That's not possible.
- On the contrary.

We now intend to intercept
the wagon train along the River Platte.

You what?

In a clash of wills, Colonel,
he who shouts loudest is lost.

Madam...

If I understand, you are going to lead your
ladies through unsettled Plains country

- along the South Platte River trail.
- Exactly.

And upon meeting the wagon train, I
surmise you will put on a demonstration,

whose purpose is to tum back the train.

Precisely.

Very well. But if you think
the United States Army

is going to escort a bunch of
harebrained females across open desert,

bent on throwing themselves under
horse teams, you're gravely mistaken.

Very well. I thank you
for your many courtesies thus far,

but if you force us to go our way
unescorted and any harm comes to us,

three million infuriated women will
turn the War Department upside down.

Mrs Massingale, if I could force you
to do anything, which obviously I cannot,

it would be to go home, and stay home,
where all decent women belong.

- Sergeant.
- Sir?

- Dammit.
- Yes, sir.

Sergeant, I want some scouts
on the trail of those women tomorrow.

Have them keep
in constant touch with us.

We'll move in a somewhat
parallel direction.

Yes, sir.

Excuse me, sir. Parallel direction...

Is that a new tactic, sir?
I'm not acquainted with it.

- It was well known throughout the war.
- Yes, sir, of course.

- What's it called, sir?
- Called?

What command shall I give the men?
"Move in a somewhat parallel direction"?

It's called... detached contact.

Detached contact?

And let it so be recorded
in the daily journal!

Yes, sir.

No documents can establish just how
the Sioux formulated their plans,

although it's known
that a plan was so formulated.

All we can do is surmise what was said.

White man win war.
Now we use white man's way.

You, Chief Walks-Stooped-Over, with
20 braves attack front of wagon train,

and draw off guard.

You, Chief Elks-Runner, with 20 braves

attack rear of wagon train
and draw off guard.

All other braves
attack centre of wagon train.

When Long Knives chase braves,

then great Chief 5 Barrels
and two brothers-in-law

circle around whole wagon train,
come in from southeast,

grab last three wagons
and go like hell... west.

In the morning, when the sun rises
over iron Mountain two hands high,

attack!

If Long Knives capture braves,
show them paper.

We good Indians. No trouble.

Go back to reservation.

But before you go,
don't forget to ask for presents.

In preparation for their attack,
the Indians took up three positions.

Here...

here...

and here.

The Wallingham wagon train
was moving in this direction,

escorted by the first cavalry patrol.

The temperance marchers,

having turned east,
were moving in this direction.

The second cavalry patrol under Colonel
Gearhart was keeping detached contact.

The citizens' militia were now heading
due north at this position.

Obviously, a collision course
for all concerned.

The day began with a sandstorm
of disturbing proportions.

- Hey, Rafe. Rafe! Rafe!
- What?

- Get 'em moved up back there!
- Huh?

Let's get them wagons moved up!

- Keep your eye on them Irishmen!
- What?

- Watch out for them agitators!
- Huh?

Oh, shut up!

Arise! Break away now.
They'll think we're lost in the storm.

They'll have to give in to our demands.

Keep together, everybody,
and keep moving!

Don't despair. We'll get through.

Buell, take a scout. Make contact
with the women. They may need help.

Sir. Phillips!

- Oracle, can you see anything?
- Nothing.

- I mean, in your mind.
- I need whiskey.

Rah'. Rah'. Rah'.!

Pretend we're lost!

We are lost!

Oracle, you sure
you know where you're goin'?

- I mean, you ain't lost?
- Course I ain't lost.

Now you lust get behind me
and keep gain'.

Follow me, men.

Now listen to me, you men.

We're gonna shelter from this dust and...

Go!

Hey! Hey, wait...

Ladies, form a circle!

Rah'. Rah'. Rah'. Rah'.!

- Rafe! Was that gunfire?
- Huh?

- I said did ya hear gunfire?
- What?

- Form a circle, dammit!
- Form a circle!

- A circle!
- Form a circle!

Form a circle!

Militia! Form a circle!

Whoa!

Take cover, ladies!

Keep firin'!

Henry! Take a squad! Get up on that ridge!

- Yes, sir!
- Ho!

Protect your rear!

Fire!

Protect your other rear!

Fire!

Protect your rear!

Try this! Protect both rears
simultaneously!

- It's Indians, sir!
- What?

Indians, sir! And they've got the women!

Good God! Charge!

A great effort has been made to adhere
to the chronological events of this action,

but due to the poor visibility we are
only able to approximate positions.

As the battle neared its climax,
we believe the wagon train was... here.

The two elements of the first
cavalry detachment - here and here.

The second cavalry detachment - here.

The women's temperance marchers - here.

The Denver citizens' militia -
approximately here.

The Indians - here, here and...

Agh!

...here.

It is not known what happened
to the striking Irish.

To the best of our knowledge,
these are the final positions

in the engagement that became known
to history as the Battle of Whiskey Hills,

but which, of course, was as nothing
compared to the subsequent disaster

at Quicksand Bottoms.

- It's a miracle.
- I beg your pardon, sir?

A miracle of the highest order that so
many bullets could miss so many people

in so small an area
in such a short space of time.

- No fatalities at all?
- None reported, sir.

- What do you propose that we do now?
- Our duty is crystal clear.

The first thing we must do
is keep the peace.

- Do you agree, Buell?
- Absolutely, sir.

There are three important steps
to peace negotiations.

No fraternisation
and no discharge of firearms.

Yes, sir.

- And the third step, sir?
- The third step? It's not important.

What is important is to have a conference.
No peace without a conference, Slater.

Buell, inform all interested parties
a conference will be held here

- in one hour from now.
- Yes, sir.

Beyond that, my contract - I got it here -
says that I am going to deliver,

and I am gonna deliver,
come hell or high water.

You gotta get them
damn foreigners outta here.

- Mr Wallingham...
- I am a taxpayer and a good Republican,

which means I am entitled to army escort.

I'm damn well gonna get army escort
or I'm gonna raise hell...

- Mr Wallingham.
- What?

I will not tolerate profanity
in the presence of ladies.

Oh...

I think we understand
your position by now.

The next party to be heard from
will be... uh... uh... Who are you?

My name is Clayton Howell, sir,
commander of the Denver Free Militia.

- What do you want?
- I'd like to inform the colonel

that a lot of us here are members of
the Denver Saloon Owners' Association,

and we intend to receive that there cargo
and take it home with us.

The winter nights are
long and lonely in Denver,

and a man is sorely in need of comfort.

Startin' next month, that there sun
is gonna be a-settin' at 5.33pm,

and she's gonna rise 11 dark hours later...

All right. I think we can
leave the sun out of this.

- What are you doing here, Oracle?
- Colonel.

I'm the guide to the Denver Free Militia.

It is my duty to see that this
precious cargo and these good people...

Thank you, Oracle.
I'm well aware of the duties of a guide.

- You're next.
- Kevin O'Flaherty at your service, sir.

President of the Irish Teamsters.
With your permission,

I have here a resolution
containing 14 points,

which I'd like to read
prior to these labour negotiations.

Labour negotiations?

If our demands are not satisfied,
your lordship,

we intend to strike,
as nasty as that may seem.

- By damn, you just try...
- Wallingham!

Oh.

I am not gonna abandon
10 of my wagons to them Indians.

Who said you had to? You've got the
Denver Free Militia to drive your wagons.

What?

Excuse me, sir.

The militia couldn't do it, unless
we took a soldier to guard each wagon.

- They're the worst bar flies in Denver.
- And who's gonna guard the soldiers?

I see what you mean. Our supply of
temperance men is extremely limited.

Yes, sir. It sure is.

Well, since you have nothing further
to say, Mr O'Flaherty, sit down.

- I call on Mrs Massingale.
- Thank you very much, Colonel.

The temperance movement has now
spread right across this great nation.

Founded in the year...

Mrs Massingale, we are not here
for a history of the movement.

- Have you anything further to say?
- I have.

Dump it, I say. Dump this entire
vile cargo into the river right now.

- By damn, madam...
- Mr Wallingham!

Did you get that, Captain?

Not a word, but I have
an interpreter standing by. Sims!

Yes, sir.

Sims, find out what they're doing here,
why they left the reservation.

Hunt buffalo. Minding own business.

Then white Long Knives come along
and attack peaceful Indian.

Paper say peaceful Indian.

We go home,
but first you give us presents.

- What'd he say?
- He said.

"Hunt buffalo in peace,
minding their own business,

- when white Long Knives attack."
- What?

Yes, sir. But they're willin'
to go home now, sir.

- Well, tell him he's made a wise decision.
- Yes, sir.

Where are presents for us?

You give me 20 wagons whiskey

or I' don't take my braves home.

Period.

Yes? What'd he say?

He said he would like
to give you a present, sir.

- That's fine.
- But he hasn't got one, sir.

I see. Thank him, but tell him
no present is necessary.

Wait... I'll tell him.

All right, then. Tomorrow morning,
this whole, uh... this, uh...

We're leaving for Denver.

You will take your orders from
Sergeant Major Buell as to starting time,

disposition of marching order,
camp sites, et cetera.

Any decisions to be made
will be made by me.

- Sergeant.
- Conference stands adjourned!

- Buell.
- Yes, sir?

What are those Indians doing here?

- I don't know, sir.
- How long have they been following us?

I was gonna bring that matter
to the colonel's attention.

They've been trailing us all day, sir.
Shall I take a squad and run 'em off, sir?

Buell, the Indian wars are over. These
Sioux are wards of the government.

- How would that look in Washington?
- The colonel has a point, sir.

Get the interpreter. Find out why they're
still here. And we'll camp early tonight.

- Field quarters assembly?
- Have the sentries out before dark.

Carter, check the rest of the sentries
and find Sergeant Buell.

Phillips, what's going on here?

Compliments of Mrs Massingale, sir.

She has use of another tub, sir, and
she thought the colonel looked dirty, sir.

Kind of scroungy and mucky, sir.

And she thought... she sort of...

Yes, sir.

- Colonel Gearhart, sir.
- Yes?

All sentries on their posts, sir. The Denver
militia has retired for the evening.

- Where's Sergeant Buell?
- At the Indian camp with the interpreter.

- That's all, Carter.
- Yes, sir.

- Sir?
- Come in Buell.

The report from the interpreter, sir...

He, uh...

Well?

There might be a little confusion, sir.

- Confusion?
- Confusion. Yes, sir.

The interpreter was only sure they said
"Hunt buffalo in peace,

minding own business,
when white Long Knives attack."

"Willing to go home.
Would like to give you present."

Sergeant, get me Oracle Jones.

Yes, sir.

Friend.

Go ahead. Don't beat around the bush.
Find out why the hell they're still here.

He says he's waitin' for the presents.

Presents? Wait a...

Well, tell him we don't want
any presents, and thank him.

Not for you, Colonel. For him.

Just a minute. He said "Hunt buffalo
in peace, minding own business..."

- Sims!
- Yes, sir.

- You're under arrest.
- Yes, sir.

- Suppose I refuse to give them presents?
- They won't go home.

Well, find out what they want.

The chief says he wants 20 wagons of...
minne wakan... crazy water.

20 wagons of whiskey?

That chief... he's a real boozer, Colonel.

Well, you tell him no.

No one's gonna blackmail
the United States Army!

Tell him to pack up his braves and get
back where they come from. I'll tell him.

White chief... Indian chief...
meet... as friends.

Leave as friends.

No crazy water, no whiskey.

Go home in peace... But go home!

- Sergeant.
- Yes, sir.

There! Now I see it!

Frank! Hold up there, Frank!

Frank, come sundown you head your
wagons in towards Quicksand Bottoms.

- Why?
- We'll be campin' there tonight.

No, we ain't. Not this train.

- Well, sure, Frank. You just suit yourself.
- That's a waste of time and horsepower.

I'll just light out for Denver
on my lonesome.

Wait a minute, Oracle.
You seen somethin'?

Well now, I don't mind tellin' you
things is just beginnin' to come through.

- What? What?
- Can't say.

Got somethin' to do
with Quicksand Bottoms?

Yep.

Rafe! Rafe! When we get to
Quicksand Bottoms, head in.

- We're gonna camp there tonight.
- Huh?

When we get to Quicksand Bottoms,
head in. We're gonna camp there tonight.

OK, Frank.

Militia, halt!

Get that circle formed in there
and keep it tight.

Stay away from the edge
of that swamp. Look out!

Come on, move it up there.
Close it up tight!

Stay away from the edge
of that swamp. Look out!

All right! All right!
Come on, the rest of ya! Watch out!

Frank! You'd better come quick!

The Irish have gone on strike
and they've taken 10 of the wagons.

Clayton! Go and rescue
that precious booze. Form up your men.

Militia! Form up in a column of fours! Hup!

Sir, the teamsters have
finally gone on strike.

They've taken 10 wagons
and formed a circle.

- Where's Wallingham?
- He's gettin' the militia together, sir.

I've put a platoon
between them and the ladies.

- The ladies?
- They're supporting the strike, sir.

It's quite possible
that violence is imminent.

Come down from there, you alien radical!

- Capitalist!
- Anarchist!

Hold your positions, ladies.

You finally got here, did ya? I want you
to get this damn mess straightened out.

You! Just what are you
and your ladies up to this time?

Merely exercising our right
to peaceful assembly,

as guaranteed by the Constitution, which
you, an army officer, are sworn to uphold.

O'Flaherty.

We're just honest workmen,
your lordship,

exercising our God-given right
to refuse to work.

Hah! You're a pack of cowards,
hidin' behind the skirts of these women.

Besides that, you're a pack of Irish
thieves. They stole 10 of my wagons.

- I demand you do somethin' about it.
- Now, calm yourself, Mr Wallingham.

I can see your wagons.
They don't look stolen to me.

Well, they're as good as stolen, by damn!

I must remind you, sir,
there are ladies present.

Damn right they're present.
I want 'em removed.

I'm sorry, Mr Wallingham,
but this is obviously a labour dispute.

Much as I hate to admit it, Mrs Massingale
and Mr O'Flaherty are within their rights.

What about my rights
as a taxpayer and a good Republican?

I'll protect your wagons and cargo,
but under army regulations I cannot...

All right, men. Enough of this
tin-soldier lawyer talk.

Club down them Irishmen.
Club 'em down and tote them women out.

Slater, take charge. You'll meet force with
force to whatever extent is necessary.

Companies A and B, move up! Ho!

Draw carbines! Ho!

Come on, get in there!
What are you waitin' for?

Uh... be reasonable, Frank.

We can't fight the United States Army.
It wouldn't look good.

All right, Gearhart. I'm holding you
responsible for every one of my wagons.

- I accept the responsibility. Buell!
- Sir!

- We'll camp here tonight. Pick a site.
- Yes, sir. Field order 138, sir?

Yes, sir.

My congratulations, Mrs Massingale. A
brilliant manoeuvre, flawlessly executed.

Thank you, Colonel. I'm very flattered.

Maintain order, Slater.

Ladies.

Mrs Massingale, ma'am...

Would you mind telling me just what
you expect to gain by all this?

Time, for one thing.

But you can't keep my wagons
immobilised for ever.

We'll see.

Would you mind telling me
what your next move might be?

Well, apart from our non-violent
picket line, we have no plans.

Except to have our meeting
at the Indian camp tonight.

- A what?
- A rally.

A rally, Frank.

Hold your positions, ladies.
Come along, Louise.

A rally at the Indian camp.

- What'd he say?
- He says, uh...

"Good to sign white squaw's paper.
Good for peace."

if it's the last thing I ever do, I'll have
that entire band transferred to Alaska.

- What are they doing now?
- Singing, sir.

- And signing pledges.
- I don't believe it.

As far as I can tell,
they've got 50 signed already.

Go back there, Sergeant. Get me
one of those pledges. I wanna see it.

How can I get one, sir?

Yes, sir!

- Can you handle the rest of this, Louise?
- You can count on me, Mrs Massingale.

I'm gonna hand out
equipment to Group B.

Good luck, Cora.

Here, sir. Just a crazy mark,
but each one of 'em's marked different.

That woman! How many?

- 81 now, sir.
- 81?

Get back there, Buell.
And tell Slater to cover his flanks.

Yes, sir.

Chisel.

Axe.

Hammer.

Where's that Massingale woman?

She's down there somewhere, Frank,
takin' advantage of ignorant savages.

- There oughta be a law agin' it.
- There oughta be somethin'.

- I don't trust her.
- You just keep your pants hitched, Frank.

Chief says... "No more peace."

What is it, Sergeant?
What happened, Sergeant?

- The Indians have captured the women.
- What?

One minute they were all
signing pledges and then...

How did that idiot Slater
ever let it happen?

On behalf of Captain Slater, sir,
it's only fair to state

that if the women hadn't started singing
hymns and making all that... racket...

Sir, the Indians disarmed my men
and took the ladies captive.

I know what they did, Slater.

They moved fast, we were outnumbered,
there was nothing I could do.

- Sergeant.
- Sir!

Alert the bugler. Rouse the camp.
Prepare for battle.

Yes, sir! Sir, any rash move on our part
may endanger the lives of the women.

- Dammit, I can't just twiddle my thumbs.
- No, sir!

Sir, the sergeant's right, sir.

An attack right now might be
most ill-advised... sir.

- Why is he here?
- He's a symbol of their good faith.

Good faith?

- They wanna bargain with us.
- Bargain?

20 wagons of whiskey
in exchange for the women.

- 20 wagons?
- Yes, sir. You see, the Indians...

- Can he understand us?
- Not a word, sir.

20 wagons comes out to about...

three and seven-eighths women
per wagon.

I think that was it, or maybe
the interpreter was confused.

- Slater.
- Yes, sir.

There's only one course of action now.
I am declaring martial law!

I say you can't do it! No tinhorn colonel's
gonna come here and declare martial law.

If you don't shut up, Mr Wallingham,
my first step will be to lock you up.

Gentlemen, this bickering
can lead to nothing constructive.

Since you cannot take
military action against the Indians

and you cannot negotiate with them, there
is only one course of action open to us.

We must accede to their demands
and give them the whiskey without delay.

Giving whiskey to Indians
is strictly forbidden

by the army regulations
so dear to you, Mrs Massingale.

Not if the Indians don't drink the whiskey.

What's to stop the Indians
from drinking whiskey?

Precisely.

I have their pledges.
One hundred signed pledges

with this one on the top signed by
Chief 5 Barrels himself. That's his mark.

She's right. That's his mark.

Do they get the whiskey?

It's my whiskey, and you're not
going to touch one drop of it!

- Listen, Frank...
- Quiet!

In that case, I have no choice but to
destroy all the whiskey right now.

You're bluffin'.

Oh...

Am I?

There is a woman hidden in each
and every one of those wagons,

awaiting my order by code to start
smashing the barrels of this vile cargo.

Madam, you lie.

Indeed?

Ladies of Group B...

Frank, will you keep your pants hitched?

The signal was to be a hymn, but that's
not necessary. I'll just tell them to begin.

- You wouldn't do that.
- Ladies of Group B, you may begin!

Puncture those barrels!

- No, wait!
- Just a moment, ladies!

You let her smash one barrel and I'll have
those brass buttons ripped off your chest!

- I'm a taxpayer and a good Republican!
- You say that one more time

and I'll bust you right in the nose!

- Are you threatening me?
- Now sit down!

- You hear that?
- Sit down! Come on, Frank. Sit down.

And shut up!

Mrs Massingale, sit down.

Sit down!

And stay down.

Ladies of Group B,
get out of those wagons!

Right now!

- Sergeant, put this down.
- Yes, sir.

The United States Army confiscates
20 wagons of the Wallingham train.

There! You hear that?
Confiscation of private property,

in which case I shall be repaid in full.
Go ahead, declare martial law.

- Martial law to take effect at daybreak.
- You declare it right now!

Don't you tell me
when to declare martial law.

Slater. Take that symbol of good faith
back to Chief 5 Barrels.

And, Slater, knock down the price.

- Buell.
- Sir!

This meeting stands adjourned.

Get outta here!

Go on! Get outta here,
you bunch of vandals!

Get off of my property!

Get off of my bed! Get outta here!

Get outta that wagon! Get outta there!

Out! Out!

I thought I heard ya, Frank.

He, he, he...

You got me into this, you soothsaying sot.

And now I'll get you out of it, Frank.
In fact, it's all set.

Everything's ready, except one
more chore I gotta do right now.

Believe me, Frank,
you just trust old Oracle.

Me and my Billy girl is gonna fix it all up.

Come on now, Billy girl.
Take me slow and take me true.

Colonel?

Go away!

Madam, I don't know what you're up to,

but whatever it is
I don't wanna hear about it.

I've come to tell you how truly sorry
I am for what I've done.

Thank you, and good night.

Colonel, do you realise what will happen

when word gets out that you've given
20 wagons of whiskey to Sioux Indians?

I realise!

20 wagons confiscated from
a taxpayer and a good Republican.

Don't you tell me what he is
or I'll bust you on the nose!

- Colonel, those cords again. Just let me...
- Get away from my cords!

If you just relax and let the blood flow...

My blood can flow on its own.

Mrs Massingale, I don't know
what your plans are for tomorrow,

but judging from experience,
you'd better get some rest.

How can I rest
after what I've done to you?

Try!

Oh...

My selfishness, my obstinacy,

my stupidity in not listening
to your advice.

I must agree with you.

- It's all my fault you're in this position.
- Well, crying isn't going to help.

Mrs Massingale...

Mrs Massingale!

You needn't look so shocked.

Plato, Augustus, Alexander...

even George Washington took
occasional spirits in medicinal amounts.

There's nothing wrong with limited
libation under emotional stress.

Your entire career is ruined!

Well... I suppose
there'll be some criticism.

Criticism? You'll be crucified!

The press, the public,
the War Department.

Horace Greeley.

Oh...

Well, if I can save the lives of 27 women,
I... I'd gladly sacrifice my career.

After all, what is it?
Only 19 years of service.

With Grant at Vicksburg.
With Thomas at Nashville.

17 Indian campaigns,
Laramie to Fort Hall.

One more year.

281 dollars and 25 cents a month,
pension.

Sergeant Buell,
27 dollars and 50 cents a month.

Every month.

19 years.

And all that time, not once have I ever...

never have I ever met anyone like...

Like me?

Oh, well, I'll just resign gracefully.
Anyway, I'll resign.

Well, at least you'll still
have your beloved West.

- I hate the West.
- Oh, dear!

Dust, wind, Indians.

My stubbornness, my obstinacy,
my selfishness.

Now, now, Cora... uh... Mrs Massingale.

If only I'd listened to you. If only!

Easy, easy, Mrs Massingale... Cora.

Do you think you could
ever forgive me, Thaddeus?

Well, l...

I could try.

Cora...

Couldn't we forget all this? I mean...

I mean... just forget
the whole thing... Cora?

- Colonel Gearhart!
- One moment, Slater.

Come in, Slater.

- Captain Slater reporting, sir.
- J' Stand up, we'll march to Denver.

Uh... Chief 5 Barrels
said he'd take 15 barrels.

I came back with eight and he said 13.

I think that was the number.
The language barrier is very difficult, sir.

- Did you reach any agreement?
- 10 wagons of whiskey.

- 10 wagons?
- For all the women.

- Good work, Slater.
- Thank you, sir.

- What's he doing here?
- The same, sir. A symbol of good faith.

Are you sure he can't understand us?

- Not a word.
- That's all, Slater.

Oh... The Indians
would like to have... uh...

Mrs Massingale present
for the exchange, sir.

- What for?
- Our symbol of good faith.

Tell Chief 5 Barrels I'd be happy
to join my brave ladies.

Yes, ma'am. I'll make all
the arrangements for the exchange, sir.

Good night, Slater.

It's scheduled for dawn.

Oh...

Thaddeus, isn't it wonderful? 10 wagons.

That's the exact number
held by the Irish teamsters.

You're not gonna have to confiscate
any of Mr Wallingham's wagons after all.

Yes... well...

It's a long day tomorrow, Cora,
and you need rest.

I'll take you back to your camp.

- Oh...
- Oh, I can get back by myself.

- You're sure?
- Oh, Thaddeus...

You're so kind and generous... and brave.

Good night, Thaddeus.

- Huh?
- Frank, she's all fixed up.

- What?
- Frank, listen carefully. This is important.

Frank! Hey, Frank!

You've been drinkin'.

Frank, listen carefully. If you could
get your wagon train outta here,

if you could cross the river so as nobody,
no Injuns, women or army could follow,

would you do it?

- How?
- Wait a minute!

You'd have to give up
them 10 wagons on the exchange.

Now, here's what we do.
We take the rest of the wagons

and we ride across Quicksand Bottoms.
None of them people could see us.

- Hold it.
- We'd get across the river...

Hold on! Just a damn minute now.

Nobody can cross Quicksand Bottoms
cos they'd sink.

We can. There's a way, Frank.

I found it five years ago.

A bunch of scalp-hungry Injuns
chased me right up to the edge.

I knew for sure they'd get me
that night if I didn't get across.

I just pointed my Billy girl south
and let her go. She didn't miss a step.

I did the same thing tonight.
She took me right across.

I've staked out a trail across the Bottoms
with my red flannel. We can't miss it.

We'll take all the wagons you got and go
across, a-pullin' up the stakes as we go.

They won't even know
what happened to us.

Once across the Bottoms, it's a straight
shoot to Denver over flat, open country.

We'll be free and clear.

- Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
- Sh! Hush up!

Yeah... My sentiments exactly.

Hallelujah.

Here's one.

Here's another one.

Here...

and here's one.

- But what are they?
- I don't know.

- But does it look familiar?
- It looks like Mr Jones' underwear.

- It is.
- Are you... are you sure?

The ladies have confirmed it. He's not
wearing those underdrawers now.

They're torn to shreds and spread out
on stakes all across Quicksand Bottoms.

Where's Group C?

Mrs Massingale, have you any idea
what these stakes are for?

I'm not sure, but I know
what we're gonna do with them.

- What?
- Move them.

Stay between those red markers.
Don't be a-laggin' behind.

Keep your wagons up close, all of ya!

Militia, when we move out,
get on the wagons.

That's the signal, sir. All wagons ready for
exchange. Platoons A and B in position.

Get down there, Buell. Send Mrs
Massingale over to the exchange point.

- Mrs Massingale!
- Whoa, whoa!

- Mrs Massingale, excuse me.
- I'm busy right now, Mr O'Flaherty.

- It's about them 10 wagons.
- What's the matter with them?

- Nothing, mum, but they ain't whiskey.
- Ain't whiskey?

No, mum. Those wagons is filled
with French champagne. All of 'em.

You know anything about
French champagne, mum?

Well, I sipped some once
on my second honeymoon in Paris.

Aye, but it was most likely cold.
These bottles ain't, they're warm.

If you open a bottle of warm champagne,
especially when it's been shooken up,

well, it's...

- You mean they explode?
- Like a Marsh gun, about a .58 calibre.

We gotta handle those bottles
like dynamite.

That's why they hired us Irish teamsters.
It's our business.

What's gonna happen when
them savages get them wagons?

What's gonna happen to that champagne?

- Explosions?
- Right.

I just thought someone oughta know.

- Have you told Colonel Gearhart yet?
- Oh, no, mum. I've been afeard to.

What's holding you up, Mrs Massingale?

I'm sorry, Sergeant Buell.
Excuse me, Mr O'Flaherty.

Mrs Massingale,
we have a bit of a problem.

Chief 5 Barrels insists on
taking the first wagon,

and his two brothers-in-law
the second and third wagons,

and Elks-Runner the fourth wagon. That
leaves nobody in charge on their side.

Me in charge.

You? You speak our tongue?

I speak with straight tongue.
Me in charge good. Drink later.

We'll agree to your taking charge
on one condition,

that I stay at the exchange point
the whole time.

- Me there... whole time.
- Good.

One moment, please, Captain.

Mrs Massingale, I'll never forgive
myself for having failed you.

10 wagonloads of whiskey to the Indians.

- I've destroyed the crusade.
- Not quite yet.

- What?
- Give me a hatpin.

Hatpin?

Our goal is still in sight, Louise.
Courage, ladies!

First three ladies, front and centre.

There they go, sir.
Three women starting across...

- Sir... sir!
- What's the matter?

That Massingale woman.
She's heading for the exchange point.

- Why's that symbol of good faith there?
- I can't say, sir.

- Roll the first wagon.
- First wagon... roll!

What's he trying to do,
bolting out of there like that?

- Roll wagon two.
- Wagon two... roll!

Ladies, move out!

Wagon two, roll!

Next three ladies, front and centre.

Tell 'em not to bolt like that.
Our teams'll get out of control.

Tell those Indians not to bolt like that.

- Roll wagon three.
- Wagon three, roll!

Roll!

Next three ladies, front and centre!

Well, move out. Go!

Don't let those idiots bolt that way.
Roll the wagons slowly!

No, not those wagons.
Hold those wagons back!

Hold on to those teams! There's gonna
be a runaway! Hold 'em, I say!

Whoa! Somebody tell them Indians
not to go bolting out there like that!

Wagon four, roll!

Next three ladies, front and centre!
Hold the wagons back!

Hold those teams back!

- Hold those wagons!
- Hold those wagons!

Don't bolt!

- Hold 'em back!
- Hold 'em back!

Carter! Cut those teams off
and bring 'em back!

HQ!

HQ!

- Look out! Look out!
- We got a stampede!

Hold on to that team!

Don't let 'em follow them other horses!

No, not that way!

You're going the wrong way!

They're gonna stampede!
You'll never get 'em back!

Full them up! Full them up there!

Hey, you! Full them up!
You're going the wrong way!

The whole Wallingham train!

Hey! Hey, you!

Tum 'em, tum 'em!

Head 'em back to the quicksands.

Uh... company, halt.

Whoa! Whoa!

Get 'em on through there!
Follow them red flags!

All right! Follow them red flags as you go.

Stay right along in line with them.
Follow them little red flags there.

Follow them markers!

Stay right in line with them.
Follow them little red flags and...

He)', you! No, not that way!

Frank! Look out, Frank!

Whoa! Whoa!

Rafe, Rafe! Come over here
and give me a hand with this thing!

Help me up!

Get 'em outta here!

- OK, take 'em out!
- Take 'em outta here.

Go on, take 'em out!

Tell the colonel
the Indians are firing on us!

Return fire!

Don't shoot! Don't shoot!

Don't shoot!

I beg your pardon!

What do you think you're doing to me?

My God! They've got Mrs Massingale!

Sir! Sir, they're waving a flag of truce!

It's a woman's petticoat. Charge!

- Thaddeus!
- You!

We go home now.

- You speak my tongue?
- I speak with straight tongue.

We go home, hunt buffalo.

Peaceful Indian. Forget presents.

You hunt buffalo in peace.
You hunt deer of green forest in peace.

You go home in peace. But go home!

Oh...

Hey. He!!!

Hey! Hey!

Get 'em outta there.

Rafe! Rafe! Throw me that rope!

Yeah. Get a rope!

Hold what you got, Frank. I'm a-comin'.
I'll help ya. Hold what you got, Frank!

I'll be right there with you.

Make it fast to that tree.

Get the slack outta that line.

Tighten up on it.

Now, hold on that. Hold it! Hold it!

Companies A and B of the cavalry
escorted the ex-temperance marchers

back to their husbands and
hungry children at Fort Russell.

It is to be assumed some time passed

before the Indians were able to
regain their customary composure.

But it is known that the exploits
of their journey became tribal legend,

to be told over and over again,
from generation to generation,

with slight revisions.

The Denver Free Militia dissolved,
never to march again.

And, of course, the strike
of the Irish teamsters failed,

and the Wallingham Freighting Company
went bankrupt,

having no visible assets.

You know, Frank,
some Injuns told me once...

Reliable Injuns, Frank.

They said a Cheyenne brave
and his pony sunk right here,

and durned if they didn't ooze up again

just as natural-lookin'
and as pretty as you please.

Oh, they was dead, of course,

but right near the top
where you could grab easy.

It might be worth waitin' for, eh, Frank?

Frank?

There. You see?

So ended the great disaster
at Quicksand Bottoms.

Oh, yes. Mrs Massingale.

Cora Templeton Massingale retired from
participation in temperance movements.

A military wedding
was held at Fort Russell.

As it fumed out, it was a double wedding.

A homestead claim was filed
by Mr Jones and Mr Wallingham

on a piece of land encompassing
the entire Quicksand Bottoms area.

Frank? Frank.

- Frank!
- What?

Frank!

Come on. Pull, Frank.

Careful, careful, careful.

Oracle... Oracle.

Oracle. Oracle!

Oracle. Oracle.

There! Now I see it!

- Glory, hallelujah!
- Hallelujah!

It's not to be denied

that there were occasional
re-emergences of whiskey kegs,

which kept Mr Jones
and Mr Wallingham, uh... uh...

quite content for a number of years.

And in spite of all predictions,

shaggy hair, and busy beavers
to the contrary,

the winter of 1867 turned out to be
the driest and warmest on record.

Such was the year, oh, pioneer West,

and the days of the Hallelujah Trail.