Original subtitles

[ horse neighs ]

Lieutenant Martinez?

Sí?

Was told I'’d have to have this signed by you.

What business takes you

across Texas to Mexico City, Señorum...

Stephen Austin?

[ chuckles ]

This is a Spanish land grant.

This is worthless.

Since we have just defeated the Spanish,

Mexico now belongs to the Mexicans.

You should know that.I understand that, Lieutenant.

But my settlers were promised Texas land by the Spanish.

My reason for going to Mexico City

is to get the new revolutionary government

to recognize that grant so my people can enter Texas.

I greatly pity anyone that would live in Texas.

There is nothing but heat and Comanches.

This, my friend, is the land of the devil.

But it is your skin.

Thank you.

You travel alone, Señor?

Yes, one is enough.

The other settlers have wives and children.

There are 1,200 miles you must travel.

You are very foolish to travel alone,

but there is someone else of the same mind.

He'’s a former soldier

who goes to petition for his back pay.

Valdez, [ speaking Spanish ].

You are in luck, Señor, for he speaks your language.

Um, it is said that Americans make very good tobacco.

I think I might have some extra.

You will have company to Mexico City, Valdez.

I do not travel with gringos, Lieutenant.

Well, it is up to you.

But it would be safer that way.

A book of Spanish grammar, Señor?

I want to learn the language enough

to make an impression in Mexico City.

Well, I thought perhaps you may not have to travel alone,

but--I have changed my mind.

I think you are right.

It would be safer to travel with another.

This man is Domingo Valdez.

SeñorStephen Austin.

You both can protect each other.

♪ [ trumpet ]

Howdy, folks. I'’m the Old Ranger.

Texas boasts many great names.

But one of the greatest of all,

the man considered the "Father of Texas,"

was a young visionary named Stephen F. Austin.

In 1821,

he undertook a dangerous journey

to Mexico City

to gain official recognition

of his then-invalid Spanish land grant.

It would be 1,200 miles across Texas

through desolate, hostile Indian country.

Now, he carried with him $400 for expenses

and...

[ speaking Spanish slowly ]

You would do well to look for Comanche signs, Señor.

They can shoot an arrow through you and your book.

For the past two days, amigo,

you worry about Comanches

as though you have a personal vendetta.

[ scoffs ]

Don'’t move.

[ exhales ]

That shot could bring the Comanche.

Comanches.

About a day old, I'’d say.

Three braves.

We'’ll camp here.

I do not think this is a good place to camp.

The cover is no good.

The horses are tired.

Besides, we need a rest.

I do not think this is a good place.

I will find a better one myself.

Your horse is tired.

If we'’re jumped, he couldn'’t carry you a mile.

Perhaps you are right.

Comanches.

[ speaking Spanish ]

[ coyote howling ]

That'’s four-legged coyote.

You do not have to tell me the difference.

I'’ve lived in this godforsaken Texas.

I know coyote when I hear one.

[ howling continues ]

I'’ve seen Texas.

It'’s a place where a man can take roots and grow.

Where Mexican and American can get along.

But ever since we'’ve started, you'’ve been looking at me

like you want to slit my throat.

Now, what is it?

Me or all gringos?

Perhaps it is this.

This Texas.

Where nothing grows.

I have tried working this devil land

and it mocks the plow.

Coffee?

A man should pour his own coffee.

A man can accept help without being beholden.

No one does anything for anyone else.

You work and you take what you can.

This I have learned.

Texas. [ spits ]

It is only good for the snakes and the Comanches.

And gringos?

What happened to your leg?

When I was a little boy,

a gringocatches me fishing in his river.

He ropes me like some animal

and he drags me behind his horse.

Perhaps you wait for me to thank you

for saving my life from the rattlesnake.

[ scoffs ]

I do not thank you.

I owe nothing to no one.

I never asked you for thanks, Domingo.

Now look...

We'’ve got a long road to travel together.

Let'’s try to get along, eh?

I do not like anything that I do not understand

and I do not understand you.

You come to this Texas to get land for your settlers, eh?

That'’s right.

They are related to you?

A son? A cousin?

By blood, no.

We all believe the same.

Texas is a place where a man

can stretch himself and grow.

There'’s a whole new world for my people right here.

These people who are not of your blood.

You will risk death for them?

Señor,you are a fool.

No, amigo.

If you really believe that,

you'’re the fool.

And you...

Why do you risk your life to go to Mexico City?

[ chuckles ]

That is the difference.

The Army owes me back pay.

I go to Mexico City to get my money,

so that I can leave this Texas forever.

I go for myself.

With this money, I'’m going to buy a new farm.

One that the Comanche will never burn.

Travel a long way on hope, my friend.

I'’ve heard revolutionary armies

sometimes forgot who they owe.

Forget?

They must pay me.

A man needs money to buy a farm.

This money is owed to me.

[ branches snapping ] [ horse neighing ]

[ leaves rustling ]

Tree.

Just a boy.

He is a Comanche.

It is a trick.

This gash is no trick.

VALDEZ: Let us leave him and go.

Probably fell from his horse.

He is a Comanche.

The others will be looking for him.

They will find us.

And this wound needs fixing.

Get me a canteen.

I said get me a canteen.

Austin.

Austin friend.

Ho-Te. Ho-Te.

Ho-Te. Austin.

Friend.

Austin friend.

Austin friend.

Austin friend.

I think this wolf cub wants to be friends.

Why don'’t you talk to him?

Austin?

Austin?

AUSTIN: Horse.

Horse.

Horse.

Austin friend. Horse.

Must be the first book he ever saw.

He probably waits to steal it.

Domingo, wake up. The boy'’s gone.

While we slept, he must have sneaked off

to bring his tribe down on us.

My money, it'’s gone.

You see? I told you he was not to be trusted.

What kind of a fool do you take me for, Domingo?

Nothing else is missing.

Not even the book he was so taken with.

An Indian has no use for white man'’s money.

That boy probably never even saw money before.

Now come on, let'’s have it.

Si,I take your money. I admit it.

As I said before, a man has to help himself.

But I will make a fair exchange with you, gringo.

I take your money for my leg.

I take your money for my farm.

You steal my money for your farm.

I'’ll take what is due me.

You bring my saddle.

You, you stay with your desert and your Comanche.

Put on my saddle. Go on.

[ gun shot ][ horses neighing ]

All right, go on. Shoot.

Shoot me. What'’re you waiting for?

I'’ll let that bullet in your leg

until you would beg me to take it out.

Then maybe you'’d know that all gringosaren'’t bad.

Same goes for Comanches.

I'’ll take care of my leg.

Better get the horses

before your cub finds his tribe.

[ Comanches calling ]

[ gun shots ]

You ran them off, but they will be back with your friend.

And he will take your scalp.

This'’ll have to do until we can get to water.

Can'’t spare the time to take out that bullet.

They'’ll be back soon.

It'’s no use.

I cannot walk.

Too bad you could not kill me before.

I have seen what the Comanches do to their prisoners.

Here.

What'’s that for?

They like to play games.

Kill me before you leave.

What'’re you doing?

Stop talking and save your strength.

It'’s about 18 miles to that next water hole.

Just a few more miles.

[ groans ]

I cannot go any further.

We'’ll rest again at the water hole.

No.

What'’s the use?

The Comanche will only track us down.

Eh, nothing.

They'’re taking their time.

[ scoffs ]

They will follow.

They will not be satisfied just with horses.

My scalp won'’t decorate some Comanche lodgepole.

Not if I can help it.

It'’s been with me too long.

You won'’t make it with me.

It'’s time a'movin'’.

You all right?

Same bad luck I'’ve had all my life.

Next water hole'’s 15 miles.

You think we will find water there?

[ grunts ]

You'’re a fool to drag a dead man with him.

I do not joke with myself.

I'’m dead already.

I will go no further.

That bullet'’s got to come out.

Even if you were to dig out that bullet,

it'’s no use.

I'’m dead already.

Go on. Leave me.

I prefer to die with myself.

I need no gringohelp.

That bullet'’s coming out whether you like it or not.

If we'’re jumped, I want you on your feet.

They'’ll be coming soon.

They...

Your settlers, they depend on you

to get them their land.

You are their leader.

They cannot lose you.

I'’d be a poor leader if I left a man to die.

Here, bite on this. It'’s going to hurt.

[ groaning ]

You could'’ve killed me

or left me to the Comanches.

[ grunting ]

[ chuckling ]

Why do you do that?

I'’m not one of your kind.

What'’s "my kind?"

Gringo?

It'’s just a word like "Mexican"

and "Comanche."

There'’s no difference in us.

The only difference is when we don'’t understand each other.

Some men are afraid of what they don'’t understand.

Like you, amigo.

[ Comanches calling ]

My life means nothing.

But you...

You must save yourself.

Go!

HO-TE: Austin friend!

Austin friend!

Looks like we made a good friend, huh, Domingo?

He will not be friendly to me.

I have wronged him too.

Austin friend.

Ho-Te.

Austin friend.

No. Friend.

Austin friend.

Friend.

Austin.

Well, I reckon that'’s a fair exchange, boy.

Horse.

Horse.

Horse!

SeñorAustin.

I think in Texas you will help many.

I am proud to know you.

Both men made it to Mexico City.

It is ironic that when Austin

was getting his land grant approved,

the settlers almost gave up, thinking him dead

when a Spanish grammar with his name on it

was found in a Comanche camp.

Under Austin'’s devoted guidance,

the American settlement in Texas flourished.

On the base of his statue

in Stephen Austin State Park in San Felipe, Texas,

is this inscription--

"No other state in the Union

"owes its existence more completely to one man

"than Texas does to Austin."