Original subtitles

How much longer is this going to take?

Well, sir, we’ve just stopped in Medicine Hat,

so I’d say we’re almost there.

- Three bloody days.

I can’t believe I let you talk me into a second-class sleeper.

It saved the department a considerable amount of money.

- And it cost me a considerable amount of sleep.

These Calgary Stampede folk are going to invite police

from all over Canada,

at least they could pay their fare.

- Seeing this rodeo in person is payment enough for me.

I hear this Stampede will draw cowboys

from across North America.

- And it seems like they’re all on this bloody train.

Wake me up when we get to Calgary.

Oh. Finally!

I can breathe. Ho!

- All right, boys!

Welcome to the greatest outdoor show on Earth.

Welcome!

Cowboy tents are over by the arena.

Go on, go on.

I don’t see any spurs on you boys.

You must be policemen.

- From Toronto. Chief Constable Thomas Brackenreid.

- Detective William Murdoch.

- I heard about you two. I was looking forward

to meeting you. Glad you could make it out.

- Name’s Guy Weadick. - We wouldn’t have missed it

for the world, Mr. Weadick.

Will there be a briefing for the policemen in attendance?

- I heard he was a bit of a stickler, as well.

Yeah, we’re going to do one

tomorrow before the Stampede opens.

Police tents are over yonder.

’Til then, have some fun on the range, gentlemen.

- You heard him, Murdoch. - Let’s go seek out some fun.

- Uh, uh, I’ll get the luggage.

Anyone think they can beat me?

Come on! Let’s see what ya got!

- Is that who I think it is?

I can shoot the fly off a bird’s hind end.

Just watch me.

Wow. Did she miss that?

- Miss Annie Oakley.

Not bad at all. See you’ve still got it.

Tom Brackenreid, as I live and breathe.

And if it isn’t Mr. Tidy Detective.

- Wonderful to see you again, Miss Oakley.

- Likewise. You fellas in town for the rodeo?

- We’ve had a personal invitation from the man

who’s running the show. - Huh.

Gents, these are two of the finest coppers

in the country, and yet, I can still shoot better than them.

Oh. Well, there’s more to policing than shooting firearms.

- Well, that sounds like an excuse to me.

What do you say?

A dime if you make the shot.

Help! Help!

- It’s coming from the arena. Come on, Murdoch.

- Look out. Police! Coming through.

There’s a rider down, sir.

- He’s probably trampled by a horse.

- Roy!

He-he’s dead?

You...

You killed my brother!

- Take him away, lads! Get him out of here!

Remind me never to come on holiday with you again.

Why are you blaming that cowboy?

- ’Cause he was supposed to distract the horse

if the rider falls, and help the rider out

of the pen, and he just stood there.

Damn him!

- Did you see what happened?

- Sure, I saw my brother got thrown and I saw him do nothing!

- What could I do?

Horse was on him before I could reach him.

- What are you talking about?

I saw you out there. You could’ve helped!

- I know you’re looking to be mad at someone.

It ain’t me!

I’m sorry, Luka.

- You should arrest him.

- Go out of the arena.

Calm down and take a breath.

Go on.

- Sir, I-I’ve just seen something very strange.

The dead man’s pupils are dilated.

- Isn’t that natural after death?

- Not immediately.

My best guess is that they were dilated before he passed.

Perhaps Mr. Wilde was under the influence

of some kind of drug.

- Maybe he took something before the ride.

- Or someone else drugged him.

- Ellis Boone. I’ve seen him at a few rodeos.

- Luka Wilde holds him responsible

for his brother’s death.

- Everybody’s mad at Ellis.

- If Murdoch is right and Roy was drugged,

how likely is it that Ellis was involved in his death?

- I don’t know him all that well,

but folks say he has a temper.

- I want to talk to him.

- Yeah, you and about a hundred other cowboys.

It’s probably why he’s made himself scarce.

Tom!

This here is Tom Three Persons. Hell of a bronc rider.

- Tom Brackenreid, Toronto police.

We’re looking for this pickup man, Mr. Boone.

- I’m looking for him, too.

The hell was he doing,

standing around when Roy went down?

- So you heard what happened?

- Yeah.

And you can talk to him after I finish tearing

a strip off him. If I can find him.

- You won’t be tearing a strip off anyone.

For now, this is police business, so you stay out of it.

- See ya.

- Maybe not the best way

to make friends around here.

- I’ll tell you what, friends are overrated.

- Well, I am headed to the bar for a drink.

Would you care to join?

- In normal circumstances, Miss Oakley, I would love to.

But I need to find this Mr. Boone

before someone else does.

- Mm.

Why don’t you tell that tidy detective

that there’s still a dime on the line,

whenever he’s ready.

- Don’t underestimate Murdoch.

- Llewellyn.

- Serge. What are you doing here?

- I thought I might speak with you.

It’s been a while since we last saw each other.

You never returned my messages.

- There’s been a lot going on.

I need your help.

A-As a detective.

There’s a problem with my boss, Mr. Sands at Dario’s.

I think he’s in some kind of trouble.

- What kind of trouble?

- Last week, I saw him arguing with two men in the alley

at the back of the restaurant. - What was the argument about?

- I couldn’t hear. - Then, today, they came back

and roughed him up.

- Who were these men?

- He wouldn’t tell me.

And he wouldn’t tell me what they want.

- So you’d like me to find out?

- It must be serious.

After he cleaned up, he said he was thinking

of closing down for good.

But Mr. Sands loves his restaurant.

- And you’re worried about him.

I’ve worked with him for the last three years.

He’s been good to me.

- I’ll speak with him.

- Thank you, Llewellyn.

- Ah, Detective Watts.

Of course. Uh, and I’m sorry I didn’t call.

- Oh, don’t mention it. Shall we?

- Are you rifling through a dead man’s satchel?

I believe Big Roy Wilde was drugged with a narcotic

before he died.

- Drugged? What do you mean?

- People said that he was fine before he got on the horse,

but then became unsteady, shaky.

- Maybe it was something else. His heart, or some such.

- His pupils were dilated,

which is a very strong indicator

that he was under the influence--

If he was, it’s his own damn fault.

- Everyone I’ve spoken to

said that that’s not something Roy Wilde would ever do.

- So-so you’re saying someone drugged him?

I don’t believe it.

- I understand that the, uh,

purse for the bronc-riding competition

is the largest that’s ever been put up by a rodeo.

- $1,000 and a fine saddle.

I just can’t seem to think that any of these cowboys

would be so low and underhanded as to kill a man to get it.

- $1,000?

- Yes, sir.

- I’m begging your pardon, sir,

but in my experience,

I have to disagree.

Um...

This is litmus paper.

And it will change to purple

if any substance, such as an opiate,

has been added to this canteen.

- It’s purple. Huh.

So, you’re saying one of the competitors did this?

- That’s what I intend to find out.

- Me, too.

- Yeah, I knew Big Roy Wilde.

And I saw his brother shooting targets this morning.

And he’s damn good.

- Mr. Heedly, I understand you were about to compete

against Big Roy Wilde in the bronc-riding competition.

- Yeah. We’ve gone up against each other a few times.

- I was told that, uh, Mr. Wilde frequently bested you.

- Well, he ain’t doing that anymore.

- I’ve also learned that, uh,

Roy Wilde was drugged

before he attempted to ride that bronco.

- Drugged?

Shoot, I don’t know nothing about drugs.

Only vices I got are whiskey and women.

Where were you before Mr. Wilde stepped into the ring?

- I was right beside it, with plenty other fellas.

I don’t need to cheat to win.

And, besides, I ain’t the favourite now.

That Indian is.

- Big Roy and I rode together a few times.

- As a competitor, Mr. Three Persons?

- Call me Tom.

And to answer your question, no.

We worked as drovers.

Worked a drive across the border last spring.

The prize money for this Stampede is significant

and it’s said that you are the favourite to win.

- We’ll see. But I wouldn’t hurt my friend, Detective.

Well, then, do you know of anyone who would’ve wanted

to harm or kill Mr. Wilde?

Like his brother said, that pickup man, Ellis Boone.

Last year, down in Cheyenne,

Big Roy got into it with Ellis.

Said Ellis was a coward.

- Is Mr. Boone afraid to ride broncos?

- Or go anywhere near ’em, according to Big Roy.

Ellis took a swing at him,

Big Roy knocked him clean out.

Could this have been Mr. Boone seeking revenge?

- Talk to him.

- There’s that pickup man.

- Mr. Boone!

We’d like a word.

- Well, it looks like he packed all his worldly belongings.

He was leaving the Stampede grounds?

- But not in the direction of either gate.

Maybe he was making his way down to the police tents?

Right. Uh, he was shot when he was facing this way,

which means the shot would have come from quite a distance,

necessitating a rifle, but a rifle would have left

an exit wound, and there isn’t one.

The cheek of it, killing him in front of us

and all these people.

- I talked to all those folks. Nobody saw anything.

- Uh, look, I have to ask.

- Me? I know I might be the best shot around,

but I’ve never shot a man, and I don’t intend to start,

even if it’s tempting. - Mm. Right.

I’ll get a couple of constables,

and we’ll get his body into the tent.

- Miss Oakley, with me, please.

Let’s retrace the path of this bullet.

Now, Mr. Boone was shot in the front,

and he was facing west,

therefore the bullet had to have come from this direction.

- But the shooter couldn’t have been standing there.

Everybody would have seen him. - Including me. I was--

What is this?

There’s a dent in this metal sign.

- A ricochet shot,

which means the shooter was standing over there.

- Where no one could see him.

- Oh. That is quite an impressive shot.

I know a lot of great marksmen, but...

- Well, who might they be?

- Well, next best to myself

would probably be Big Roy’s brother, Luka.

- Detective.

I hear Ellis was shot right in front of you.

- Very near me, yes. - But no one saw the shooter.

- So you have no idea who did it?

I’m actually here to speak with Big Roy’s younger brother.

I’ve got investors breathing down my neck.

This Stampede hasn’t even started,

and it’s already bound for failure.

And that’s why you have us here, Mr. Weadick.

I assure you we’ll get to the bottom of this.

- And I appreciate it. - Just, please, be discreet.

What can we do for you, Detective?

- I was hoping to speak with Mr. Wilde here.

Um...

Mr. Wilde, where were you when Mr. Boone was shot?

I was with Tom, at the Indian Village.

- I’ll vouch for that.

- Obviously, you blamed Mr. Boone for your brother’s death.

- Look, I-I was angry and I...

I said some things that I regret.

- If you want a list of people who saw us

at the Indian Village when Boone died,

I’ll get you it.

- That won’t be necessary.

But do either of you know of anyone else

who may have been angry at Mr. Boone?

- Well, you now, I-I saw Ellis arguing with Link Bowman.

Must’ve been an hour before he was shot.

- Uh, if I may, uh...

You’ll want to hold the rope

much further behind the honda. Uh...

And to let out another coil.

But, uh, most importantly,

you-you want to follow through across.

Uh... like this.

- Nicely done. Where’d you learn how to do that?

Oh, I paid my dues on a ranch a long time ago.

- Is that so?

- You were overheard having a heated discussion

with Ellis Boone shortly before he was killed.

- Heated? I wouldn’t say that.

- Then how would you characterize

your talk with him, Mr. Bowman?

- Ellis blamed himself for Big Roy’s death.

I was telling him to stay, but he was upset.

- Did you discuss anything else?

No. What else would I say to him?

- Why did you want him to stay?

- I just knew he’d regret it

if he left before this Stampede started.

It’s gonna be the biggest show in the west.

Hya!

- And you are set to compete in the, uh,

bronco-riding competition also.

- Sure am.

But before you go accusing me,

I would never harm another man to win.

You can ask anyone here.

- Oh, we plan on doing that, sunshine.

- Sunshine? I like that.

- Where did you go after your conversation with Mr. Ellis?

- Back to my tent.

- Alone?

- Unfortunately.

But that is something I aim to change tonight

at the dance.

- Miss Oakley.

What were you doing in Mr. Boone’s tent?

- I was checking to see if he,

or whoever shot him, had left anything behind.

And look at this.

A hundred and fifty dollars.

It was in his tent with a rock on top.

That’s all he left.

- That’s a lot of money for a cowboy.

- Well, Ellis Boone didn’t have a dollar to his name.

So, what was he doing with that kind of money?

- And why did he leave it behind?

I talked to the man who supplies the restaurant.

- Mr. Grews. And?

- It was clear he’s being threatened.

By whom, I don’t know.

Likely the same men who are threatening Mr. Sands.

- Perhaps a larger butcher is trying to get rid

of the competition. I’ll have to go to each of them,

all across Toronto, could take a while.

- Do you know Mark Gilbert Meats on Fenshaw Avenue?

- Yes. A new butcher shop, isn’t it?

Mr. Mark Gilbert called to book a table at eight o’clock.

Mr. Sands said he wasn’t opening tonight.

- That’s what I thought.

But a meat delivery arrived this afternoon

from Gilbert’s butcher shop.

- Is that so?

- Mr. Sands went pale when I told him about

the reservation. He said nothing can go wrong

for Mr. Gilbert tonight.

- Well, if that’s the case,

I think Dario’s could use another waiter.

- You’re not suggesting-- - You have a spare uniform?

Ah!

A civilized man.

Here’s to the gentlemen among cowboys.

Let me buy you a drink.

Ah, Mr. Ethan Tripp.

Chief Constable Thomas Brackenreid,

Toronto Constabulary. And what brings you out here?

Are you part of the Stampede, or a police officer?

Oh! God, no!

Look, between me and you,

it’s time the businessmen of Calgary stopped encouraging

this frontier parade.

The city of Calgary should be promoting progress

and stop playing at cowboys and Indians.

Who the hell do you think you are?

Look, uh, nobody wants any trouble in here.

- You should follow me outside and we’ll settle this for good.

Why don’t you sit down and relax?

Here, have a drink on me.

I’ll sit down when I’m good and ready.

A toast.

To the Stampede!

- What are you celebrating, hm?

My brother died out in that ring today.

- We’ll get to the bottom of this, son.

The truth will come out.

Oh, and they’ll just keep carrying on in the meantime?

I’ve had enough of these folks.

This whole Stampede can go to the devil.

I hear you know your way around a rope, Detective.

Oh. I was just giving Luka Wilde a bit of help,

that’s all. - Mm.

That’s part of being a cowboy.

Knowing what’s right.

- Be that as it may,

someone here is responsible for the death of two men.

- I just can’t believe it.

Perhaps you should postpone the Stampede.

- Impossible.

I’ve advertised everywhere from here to Texas.

Got everything riding on this.

- You’ve had a man die in the ring

and a pickup man that you hired was shot in cold blood.

- All the riders know they might not

come out of that ring alive.

And as for Ellis, there’s plenty of rifles around.

Could’ve been an accident.

You don’t believe these two deaths are connected?

All I’m saying is that I’m not sure.

Fire! Fire! Fire!

Oh no.

I just don’t know how this could have happened.

There isn’t any electricity to this tent,

so this couldn’t have been a frayed wire.

- Well, then it’s most certainly arson.

Big Roy dead, Ellis Boone shot.

I had all my money stolen, and now this?!

- Y-You had money stolen?

- Someone broke into my lockbox.

Took all that was in there.

- Just how did they get into it?

- The girl who works for me lost her key.

- How much was lost exactly?

- $150.

Then I believe I know who took it.

- Now remember to smile. - Slight nod when you greet them.

- Neat movements. - And serve from the left,

remove from the right.

- I’m not sure about this.

- Oh, don’t worry.

I’ve gotten quite adept at playing a role.

They will be here any moment. Are you ready?

- Yes, Mr. Sands.

These are dangerous men, Detective. Please be careful.

Gentlemen, welcome.

Ah...

- I just got that hat. Custom.

It’s ruined.

- I’ll sponge it off, sir. It’ll be good as new.

- You know, spilling that wine was a good thing.

- What? What did you say?

That wine was a German Riesling.

You wouldn’t have liked it.

You look like strong Barolo men.

- Strong Barolo men, huh?

You’re right. - Hm.

- I take a hearty red over a white any day.

I like this guy. - Ah!

- It’s got to be connected.

It’s no coincidence that the money that Ellis Boone

left in his tent is the exact same amount

that was stolen from the Stampede office.

Well, now we know where he got the money.

But why would Mr. Boone steal that money

and then leave it in his tent?

- Change of heart?

- Where are you off to?

- I’m going to have a word with the young lady

who lost her key.

So, Miss Croft,

were you the only one who had a key to the lockbox?

- Not the only one. - Mr. Weadick had one, too.

- Ah, I see.

- I noticed my key was missing from my pocket earlier.

I looked everywhere.

- And you never found it?

- No.

And when I went back to the office tent,

the box was empty and the money was gone.

- $150?

- Yes. I feel just terrible about it.

- Did you see anyone suspicious hanging around the office?

- No.

- Who else knew you had a key?

- Nobody, sir.

- Not even Ellis Boone?

I’ve never spoken to that man in my life.

- This place isn’t half bad.

I could get used to coming here.

- I told Mr. Sands we would be, often.

- How much longer is this going to go on? My hands are shaking.

- Patience, Serge.

- Any trouble with that Mr. Grews?

None at all. He soon fell in line once he heard my offer.

Thought you were just telling him to close for good.

I gave him a choice: leave or keep selling meat

and get his shop torched to the ground.

Hey, waiter. - Mm-hmm?

- Before it gets cold. - Uh-huh.

- Waiter. More wine.

- Uh-huh. Right.

Uh! Ah. Ha, ha, ha.

- What-what are you doing, man? Step back!

- What is that? - Hm?

- Under your waistcoat? It’s hard, like metal.

Uh...

- He wears a medical device.

He needs it to breathe, um,

but he’s very proud and doesn’t like to talk about it.

- We’ve got the butchers on the east side of town

all shaking in their boots.

Now we start on the west side.

- And I can help you with that.

Our two shops will run this town,

as long as we have each other’s backs.

Well, I think that should do it.

Gentlemen, I am not a waiter.

- No kidding. - I’m a police detective

and you men are under arrest. Constables!

I’ve recorded everything you’ve said.

Arrest these two

and bring them to the station house.

Mm.

This Barolo’s corked.

If poor palates were a crime,

I’d charge you both with that, too.

Why would anyone wanna burn this tent down?

- To end the event before it begins?

- This Stampede is supposed to be the greatest

outdoor show this country’s ever seen!

- Perhaps there are some folks who don’t share that feeling.

Uh, Mr. Weadick.

- Kerosene and a lighter?

- Evidence that this fire was definitely arson.

- Hell of a thing.

Sorry your Stampede’s catching such trouble, Guy.

- Thanks, Tom. - I spoke with the people

at the Indian Village.

Nobody saw anyone around this tent yesterday.

- I was actually coming to speak to you next, Mr. Wilde.

- Me? A-About the fire?

I don’t know anything about it.

Either of you men recognize this lighter?

- No, sir.

Mr. Wilde, I was told that you were rather upset yesterday

when the Stampede decided to go ahead in spite

of your brother’s death.

- Well, I was angry at everyone at the bar yesterday

for being in such high spirits.

I mean, they didn’t say one word about my brother.

I thought cowboys would mourn one of their own.

So you tried to destroy my rodeo?!

He wouldn’t do anything like that.

- Are you vouching for him a second time,

Mr. Three Persons?

- No, as a matter of fact, I’m not.

- Look, I was a hothead yesterday,

but I went straight from the bar to my bed.

’Kay, the fella in the next tent can swear to it.

- Oh! How are the pancakes?

- Very good! Must be my tenth.

I think it’s the buffalo milk.

- Did you manage to talk to the young Mr. Wilde?

Yes. He has an alibi for the time of the crime.

And he didn’t recognize this.

I found it at the burnt-out tent next to a can of fuel.

- I’ve seen this lighter before. Yesterday at the bar.

Who did it belong to?

That businessman, Mr. Tripp.

He told me how much he hated the whole idea of the Stampede.

- God, no!

- How good with a rifle do you think he is?

- There’s one way to find out.

- Ah, Miss Oakley?

Yeah, I got a message that you’d like to see me.

- I’ve heard all about you, Mr. Tripp.

- Oh, have you? - I-I don’t know you at all.

- You never heard of Annie Oakley?

I’m the best shot in the west. Heck, the east,

south, north, too.

Ah, well, how wonderful for you.

- Hm. I hear you don’t like the Stampede much

and I was thinking that maybe

it’s because you don’t know about it.

If you did, you’d love it.

The city of Calgary doesn’t need to look backwards,

Miss Oakley. Okay, we need innovation and forward thinking.

- You ever shot a rifle?

- I beg your pardon? - Like this.

- That’s impressive. For a lady.

- I ain’t no lady. You wanna try?

Ah, no.

- It’s okay. There’s no shame if you can’t.

- Why, I... You surely aren’t trying to best me.

I mean, I have fired a rifle or two in my time.

- Hm. Can’t wait to see it.

All right.

Well, I’ll-I’ll just give it another try.

This weapon’s not properly sighted. It’s...

- Here. Allow me.

I don’t think it’s a problem with the weapon, sir.

Looks like you’re not much of a shot, Mr. Tripp.

- But you are an arsonist, nonetheless.

- Uh, what do you mean?

I found this, along with some accelerant

at the scene of the fire. Look familiar?

- Well, somebody must have stolen that from me.

Uh, I mean, there is nothing but thieves and scoundrels

in this place. - Mr. Tripp,

you’re under arrest on suspicion of arson.

Take him away, Murdoch.

- Come with me.

- He could have been pretending to be a bad shot.

- Doesn’t mean he’s not a firebug, though.

- Hm. Try your luck?

Oh! Why not?

Toss it, me ol’ mucker!

Luck has nothing to do with it, Miss Oakley.

Oh! Thank you.

Ah! Mr. Tripp here has had plenty of time

to stew in the holding tent.

- I demand to be released.

- Mr. Tripp, you’ve been charged with arson.

You’ll be sent to the Calgary central jail.

- What is your problem with this Stampede?

Seems to me that it would put this city on the map.

Surely that’s gotta be good for business?

- I-It’s the wrong kind of business!

We are in the twentieth century.

It is time to leave the past behind.

- I’ve heard that you put an offer in on this land.

- I did! I was going to turn it into an exhibition grounds

for modern technological inventions,

not a circus for cowboys.

I believe the city didn’t like your idea.

- Ah, yeah. - They fell for Mr. Weadick.

He conned them into letting him hold this Stampede.

It’s a disgrace.

So you decided to burn the whole bloody thing down.

Drunkenly and foolishly,

I-I lit a fire.

I apologize. I will happily pay the damages.

- Are you sure lighting a fire is all you did?

- What are you talking about?

- I believe a cowboy’s been drugged.

And another man was shot and killed.

- That had nothing to do with me.

Although, it’s no big surprise.

- Care to expand on that?

That’s what happens when you get these types together.

Troublemakers, the lot of ’em.

I heard some things when I was in that holding tent.

- What did you hear?

- One of them must’ve done something illegal.

I don’t know what he did, but he paid a pickup man $150

to keep quiet about it.

- Who was it? - I don’t know his name.

All those cowboys, they all look the same to me.

We’ll check the list of men who were in holding last night.

- Ah, as I proved helpful to you men,

ah, will you, will you let me out of here?

No.

- Take him back.

- Ah.

- Hello, men. See a horse outside named Cyclone?

- Mm. - Say she’s a real outlaw.

But I think we’re going to get along just fine.

- Mm. Good.

Uh, we’re still searching for whoever

drugged Big Roy Wilde’s canteen

in order to win the bronco-riding competition.

- And you came to find me?

- Well, no. I... - I’ve come to test your canteen.

- Nothing but water in there. As far as I know.

- Can’t hurt.

- Whatever opioid substance was put

in Big Roy Wilde’s canteen is also present in yours.

Have you drank any of this?

- Did you see anyone hanging around your saddlebags?

- No, I didn’t.

- Look at that.

- What am I looking at, sir?

- That’s Lucinda Croft. She’s the one

who lost the key to Mr. Weadick’s lockbox.

- Containing the $150.

- Well, they seem friendly.

- And he was one of the men who was in the lockup last night.

- Miss Croft. A word.

- What can I do for you?

- We’d like to ask you some more questions about the theft.

- I told you everything I know.

- Pardon me, fellas. I gotta practise.

- Just a minute, Mr. Heedly.

You were in the lockup last night, weren’t you?

- Had one too many. - I didn’t know that was a crime.

I don’t think that’s the only crime you’ve committed,

is it, Mr. Heedly?

- The hell you talking about?

- How did Miss Croft’s stolen $150

end up in the possession of Ellis Boone?

- You took it to give to him as payment, didn’t ya?

But he saw you drug Big Roy and threatened to turn you in.

- Riley, you said that that money was for us,

so that we could run away together.

- Quiet, Lucinda. - You killed Big Roy.

And you tried to get rid of me, too.

Couldn’t win fair and square, Heedly?

- You can all go to the devil.

- Oh! - No! Wait!

- Mr. Heedly! - Gimme that horse!

- Hold it right there!

You there! Toronto Constabulary.

I need to use this horse.

Hya. Hya. Git.

- Careful, that’s a wild one!

He’s got some skill for a city boy.

- That’s William Murdoch.

- Whoa!

- Hya! Hya! Ha, ha, ha! Come on.

Hya! Come on!

- Hya! - Hya!

- Hya!

- Oof!

- Thank you for your assistance, Miss Oakley.

- Surely, Detective.

- Ellis Boone saw me dose Roy’s canteen.

And I gave him that money to keep quiet about it

and let Roy fall in the ring.

- Why did you then kill him?

- He wasn’t going to stay quiet about it.

He told me he had a change of heart.

He was going to tell you what I’d done.

- You’re now under arrest for two murders.

Looks to me like this is your last rodeo, "pardner."

- I’ve cooked you my specialty.

Oh!

Ah, well, the only thing that I know how to make,

lamb chops from Mr. Grews’s shop.

- They look perfect.

Mr. Sands is happy he can go back to his regular butcher.

- I’m just glad he won’t be threatened any more

by those criminals.

- You’re a good man, Serge.

- Not really.

I should have called you after we first had dinner.

- Oh, I understand.

- No, I don’t think that you do.

I didn’t call you because I really like you.

- Oh.

- I’ve had my heart broken before,

and I don’t want that to happen again.

Well...

Nothing is promised us, but...

I think we could make each other happy.

So can this be considered our second date?

- Yes.

- Well, in that case,

maybe it wouldn’t be too forward to do this.

He’s looking pretty good!

That horse is starting to buck something fierce,

but he’s hanging on. Come on, son!

And he’s off!

That was a good ride!

Come on, folks, give him a hand. It was an excellent ride.

Your instincts about your brother were right.

He didn’t simply fall off of his horse.

- Thank you for finding out who killed him.

That’s some comfort.

I just wish Roy was here to watch me compete,

even if I do lose.

Seems like he was a good brother to you,

and I’m sure he’d be very proud.

- Well, there’s another rodeo next month in Medicine Hat.

I’m aiming to win it.

- Oh! - For Roy.

This is going to be one hell of show, Mr. Weadick.

- Wouldn’t have come off without you two.

You saved the Stampede.

With a little help.

- Thank you, ma’am.

- Sir, are you injured? - Blame Miss Oakley.

- Blame? I bought you a present. Show them off, Tom.

A man who shoots as good as you

deserves a proper pair of boots.

- Those are going to be perfect

for marching in the parade tomorrow.

- Marching? Bloody hell.

Our next cowboy’s ready to ride!

- Oh, Tom’s set to ride.

- Riley Bo should’ve known that Tom was going to win

the damn thing, anyway.

Cyclone is our toughest bronc and my money’s still on him.

Subtitling: difuze