All language subtitles for Death.Valley.Days.S05E08.Year.of.Destiny.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-bigworm_track3_[eng]

THE OLD RANGER:
And now,Death Valley Days.

♪♪ [ trumpet ]

Hyah! Yah!

Yah! Yah!

Howdy, folks.
I'’m the Old Ranger,

and I have another
interesting true story for you

about the historic
Death Valley country.

This is the story
of Bret Harte,

the man who gave the world
those immortal stories

of the California Gold Rush.

The events you'’re going
to see are all packed

into one short year--
the year of 1857,

the year in Bret Harte'’s life
which I call...

The year is young,
and so is the slender youth
from New York City.

Only 20, and a stranger
to this wild mining country.

Wondering what
the young gentleman
is perusing.

Dickens."Dickens"?

[ laughter ]

Why, he can'’t even cuss yet.[ laughter ]

That'’s the name
of the author--
Charles Dickens.

The stage is late,
isn'’t it?

Don'’t tell me you're headed
for the mine, sonny.

That'’s right.In them?

Why, patent leather
is for dancing teachers.

[ laughter ]

I'’ll invest in some heavy boots
with the first gold I dig.

Dig?

Smooth as a baby'’s.

[ laughter ]

If it'’s a fight
you wanna pick--
No.

All I'’m trying
to tell you, sonny--

The name is Harte.
Frank Harte.

Well, Frank,
you gotta have guts
to stand the life out here.

And you think
I haven'’t got guts?

[ hoofbeats approaching ] MAN:
Hyah!

Give us a hand, boys!

[ murmuring ]

Get him in the depot
before he bleeds to death!

Road agents?Murrieta himself.

Murrieta?He didn'’t get
the treasure, though.

Who'’ll volunteer
to ride shotgun
in Johnny'’s place?

[ murmuring ]

Not me.
I got business right here.

I'’ll do it.

Can you shoot?Certainly.

If my life depends on it.

It will. Get aboard.

[ murmuring ]

All aboard!

[ door closes ]

[ yelling commands to horses ]

I didn'’t think
young patent leather
had it in him.

Bandits!

Put your gun down.
Them ain'’t road agents.

Got room for
any more passengers?

Sorry, Duchess.

[ laughter ]

We'’re full up.

Aw, I can'’t walk
another step.

Where you bound for?Oh, anywhere.

They kicked us out of Poker Flat
and told us not to come back.

If you could just
accommodate the lady.

Lady? Ha!

Don'’t make me laugh.

Couldn'’t she ride
up here with us?
There'’s plenty of room.

There'’s room for you
up here, ma'’am.

[ laughter ]

What about the others?

They'’ll have to hoof it.

[ yelling commands to horses ]

Where'’d you get
the name Duchess?

My professional name.

And the others?

The dressy gent
is known as "Slick Nick."

A gambler?Oh, naturally.

The old bum--
he'’s Billy Be-Damned.

But you ain'’t interested.

Oh, but I am.
I'’m very much interested.

OLD RANGER:
Slick Nick, Billy Be-Damned,
and the Duchess.

Little did Frank Harte realize

that his interest
in these colorful characters

and the others he would meet
would play such
an important part

in this year of his destiny.

When the Sierra snows melted,

Frank forsook the job
of Wells Fargo messenger

for that of schoolteacher
in a remote mining camp.

Arithmetic.
Out of a book.

I'’ll give you an example
out of real life.

That'’s the amount of gold
I took out of one pocket

up there on the hill
in less than a half hour.

$3,000 I spent building
a flume and tunnelin'’.

And that left, uh...

2,000.

$2,000.

And you just keep on
subtracting and subtracting
and subtracting,

until you'’re down
to a few hundred.

And that'’s just enough
to start a saloon

with myself
as my own best customer.Why, you must be Old--

Go ahead and say it!
Old Brummer Smith! [ chalk clatters ]

Sure.I'’m happy to meet you,
Mr. Smith.

I'’ve been wanting
to talk to you.

Well, I here, boy.
What'’s on your mind?

I understand
you have a daughter.I have.

How old is she?Growing up.

I wish you'’d bring her
here to school.

To school?
You might as well ask me

to bring you
a young wildcat.

M'’Liss pays me no mind,
and I pay her no mind.

Mr. Smith.

THE OLD RANGER:
Brummer Smith--
harsh, bitter, and unfriendly.

A self-confessed failure,
both as a man and a father.

A weakling who found life
harder to face than death.

They buried him
in Boothill this morning.

And what about his child?

She didn'’t even show up
for the funeral.

Off in the woods somewhere.

I can'’t believe it.[ chuckles ]

You don'’t know M'Liss.
She'’s got a heart of granite.

Hmph!

[ crying ]

The departure of two families
from the mining camp

left not enough children
to keep the school open
through the summer.

And young Frank Harte'’s
next employment
during his year of destiny

was a printer'’s devil
on theNorthern Californian,

a newspaper published
in Humboldt County, California.

Hello.

Oh, Mr. McConnell.
Good morning, sir.

Boss out?He'’s gone away.

He left me in charge
of the paper.

I just finished an editorial
for tomorrow'’s issue.

"Cowardly Massacre"?

You can'’t print this.

Why not? It'’s true.

Those were Injuns
that were killed.

Sixty of them.

In cold blood.
By a bunch of white ruffians.

The most dastardly thing
I ever heard of.

Injun-baiting ain'’t exactly
new in these parts, son.

And decent citizens sit back
and do nothing about it.

Well, maybe they will
after they read that.

Take my advice and tear it up.
It'’ll get you into trouble.

I don'’t care if it costs
me my job on the paper.

I'’m going to voice a protest
against this barbarism,
if it'’s the last thing I do.

It might very well be, son.

It might very well be.

Who does this outsider
think he is,

coming into town
and printing an article
like this about us citizens?

Yeah!Yeah!

We only gave them Injuns
what they deserved.

Not half enough.Yeah.

Yeah, and if we let him
get away with it,

there ain'’t no telling
what he'’s liable to print next.That'’s right.

You know, a fella like this
can cause us a lot of trouble.That'’s right.

Now, we oughta go down there
and bust up
that newspaper office,

and then we oughta take
this Injun-loving squirt out

and teach him how to dance
on the end of a rope.

Yeah!
Right!
Right.

Fill '’em up again.Yeah.

[ chattering ]

They'’re getting fired up
for a lynching party.

You'’d better make
yourself scarce.

And leave this place
for them to wreck?
No, sir.

Those won'’t do you
any good, Frank.

Don'’t you realize
it'’s a mob?

I appreciate your concern,
Mr. McConnell,
but I will not run.

Then I will--
to Fort Humboldt for help.

I only hope
we can get back in time.

[ pounding on door ]

MAN:
We know you'’re
in there, Harte!

Open up!

[ Men shouting ]

Stand back!

I'’ll shoot the first man
that takes another step.

Aw, he'’s bluffing.
He'’s only a kid.

I rode shotgun for Wells Fargo.

One move forward
from anybody,
and he'’s a dead man.

It'’ll go easier on you
if you lay down them pistols.

You mean that rope won'’t
feel so rough around my neck?

You got nobody to blame
but yourself.

You shouldn'’t have printed
them lies about us citizens.

If what I printed is lies,
all you have to do is prove it,

and I'’ll print a retraction
and an apolog--

[ clamoring ]

This is the only kind
of an apology we want.

Take him out.

♪♪ [ military bugle call ]

Soldiers!

Whew! That was
a close squeak, son.

[ exhales ]

Close for comfort.

You know, if I was you,
I wouldn'’t press my luck.

I'’d quit town while
the quitting'’s good.

You know,
I believe you'’re right.

I guess the time'’s come
to head down to San Francisco.

See what offer'’s there.

And so, as the year
of destiny waned,

we find young Frank Harte
in the office

of theGolden Era
in San Francisco

working as a typesetter

and, in his spare moments,
scribbling forgery.

MAN:
Oh, Frank?

With my compliments.A dollar? What for?

That poem of yours
we published anonymously.

Well, thank you, sir.

Have you ever tried your hand
at writing fiction, my boy?

Well, I'’ve thought about it,
sir, but I don'’t know whether
I really have the talent or not.

All you need is an idea
and some characters.

Well, I'’ve met plenty of
characters in this past year--

the outcasts from Poker Flat,

dance hall queen
in Roaring Camp and her baby,

Old Brummer Smith,
who killed himself,

and his wild daughter, M'’Liss.

Why don'’t you try putting
some of them down on paper?

Hmm? I'’ll pay you
a dollar a column
for anything we can use.

Well, thank you, sir.

[ door opens, closes ]

FRANK:
Just where the Sierra Nevada

begins to subside
in gentler undulations,

and the rivers grow
less rapid and yellow,

on the side
of a great red mountain,

stands the settlement
of Smith'’s Pocket.

And at the end of its long,
straggling street,

past the Methodist church
and the monte bank,

stands the village school.

[ knock on door ]

Come in.

My name'’s M'Liss.
Melissa Smith.

You keep school,
don'’t you?

I'’m the schoolmaster, yes.

Well, I wanna be teached.

And I don'’t care what you say.
I'’m coming to school.

Well, why not?

[ crying ]

I wish I was dead.

I wish everybody was dead.

They all hate me.
[ crying continues ]

God hates me.

Who said so?

The Reverend McSnagley.

He expelled me
from Sunday school.

[ chuckles ]

You come tomorrow morning.

School starts at 8:00.

And now I'’m going
to walk you home.

Where do you live?

No-- Nowhere,
since Pa died.

We'’ll find you a place
with some nice family.

And you'’ll all take your seats,
and school'’ll come to order.

And, uh, now today,
we are going to have a lesson... [ floorboards creaking ]

Oh, M'’Liss. Come in.

I have a seat right here
in front for you.

Hey, look.
She'’s got on a clean dress.

[ laughter ]

That'’s one of
my old ones.

She'’s living at our house.
We took her in.

Hey, she'’s got on shoes.
She'’s tamed.

[ laughter ]

[ chattering, shouting ]

Stop! Stop it!

Stop it.
I said stop it.

Now, M'’Liss,
you put on your shoe.

Ollie, you'’ll stay
after school.

Yes, sir.

Oh! You'’ve got blood
on your hand.

Let me get it off
for you.

[ sighs ]

"Respected Sir,

"when you read this,

"I am run away,

"never to come back.

"Never, never, never.

"Yours respectfully,

Melissa Smith."

So this is your hideout.

What do you want?

You don'’t happen to have
any food cashed away here,
do you?

Are ya hungry?

Famished.

Haven'’t had anything
since dinner yesterday.

If you was an Injun,
you'’d find roots and berries.

If I "were" an "Indian."

But I'’m not.

I'’m only
a disappointed schoolmaster.

Where you going?

Back to school.

Wait!

I'’m waiting.

You said you
were disappointed.

I think you can guess why.

I'’ll go back.

Who thinks they can
answer my question?

Melissa.

Planets revolve
on a fixed orbit--

the sun and the moon,
the Earth and the stars,
all in harmony.

That'’s why they talk about
the Music of the Spheres.

Just a minute, Melissa.

This is an examination
in astronomy.

Well, you asked me
about the solar system.

And you said it had been
going on like this
since the creation.

Is that the truth?Yes!

[ sighs ]

Yes, Clytemnestra?

It says in the Bible.
Joshua commanded

the sun and the moon
to stand still,
and they obeyed him.

Correct.

It'’s a cussed lie![ gasps ]

I don'’t believe it!

What is it, Ollie?

M'’Liss is gonna
run away again.What'’s that?

She took up with
one of them actor fellas
in the traveling company.

They'’re moving out
tomorrow morning.Which actor?

Him with the shiny hat
and the gold watch chain.

I seen her talking to him
just now at the arcade.

Where is she?Who?

Melissa Smith.I don'’t know.

FRANK:
I understand she'’s considering
joining your troupe.

Is that true? Suppose it is?

You know very well
that'’s no kind of a life
for a young girl.

And, uh, what business
is it of yours?

I happen to be her guardian. Really?
Rather young, aren'’t you?

I appeal to you as a gentleman
to leave her where she is.

Wanna keep her
for yourself, eh?

Sorry, old man.

Help! The schoolmaster'’s
being killed!

[ gunshot ]

Did he get you?

No.

Just burned my sleeve.

MAN:
Well, it'’s a good thing
M'’Liss called us.

M'’Liss?

Well, that'’s who you was
fighting over, wasn'’t it?

[ knife clatters ]

Please leave me alone,
M'’Liss.

I'’m busy.Why didn'’t you kill him?

Kill him?

Well, sure. That'’s what
I give you the knife for.

You? I slipped it in your hand
when you was on the floor.

Why didn'’t you stick him?

And be a murderer
as well as a fool?

A fool?A fine thing for a schoolmaster,

gettin'’ mixed up
in a barroom brawl.

Now I will have to leave town.

Were your really planning
to run off with that troupe?

I could still do it.I'’ll have you
locked up first.

Then I'’ll kill myself.M'’Liss.

My father did it,
so why shouldn'’t I?

At least it'’s better
than staying out here alone

where everybody hates
and despises me.
[ crying ]

'’Lissa.

Will you marry me?

Marry you?

Yes. Tonight.

There'’s a new preacher
at the foot of the mountain.

He'’ll tie the knot.And-- And leave here?

Yes. Say you will.

FRANK:
And hand in hand
they passed into the road,

and behind them
the school of Red Mountain
closed upon them forever.

We'’ll print it
in our next issue.

Do you really think
it'’s good enough, sir?

So good,
it'’s got to be signed.

Just what is
your full name, son?

Francis B. Harte, sir.

Francis.
Sounds rather la-di-da.

What does the "B" stand for?Bret.

Drop the first name altogether.
Just call yourself "Bret Harte."

"'’M'Liss,'’ by Bret Harte."

You'’re off to
a fine start, Frank.

Just keep '’em coming--
simple human stories

about the kind of folk
that you'’ve known out here,

and one of these days,
the world will hail you
as a great writer.

Never was there truer prophecy.

The Outcasts of Poker Flat.
Tennessee'’s Partner.

The Heathen Chinee.
The Luck of Roaring Camp.

The Idyl of Red Gulch.

Two Men of Sandy Bar.

The stories of Bret Harte
swept the nation,

acclaimed as a new
kind of writing

into which was woven
the real stuff of the West.

Today in California,
they still speak of
the Bret Harte country,

the region where a young man
with a sensitive soul and mind

wandered from job to job

during the year
that was to shape his destiny.

♪♪ [ trumpet ]