Original subtitles

- Olly olly oxen free!

One, two, three, home! I won!

- I saw you, Henry James.

- No, you didn't! - Yes, I did!

- No, I... - Yes, I did!

Danny. Gun.

- You can't catch me!

Shoot him.

-- Get away from the wood. - Go wash up for lunch.

- Wait for me, boys!

- That roast beef smells good, Ma.

That bullock sure picked the wrong yard to walk into.

Inside.

Whoa!

Hello?

I'm Sergeant Nate Clintoff.

This is my wife, Louisa.

We're headed to Everton.

You're a little off the track.

Couldn't help but smell your roast.

- Excuse my husband's manner's, Mrs...

Johnson. Mrs Joe Johnson.

- We've been travelling for some time, Mrs Johnson.

Up from Melbourne.

Out from London, actually.

It's been a long nine and a half weeks.

Crossing the river further south we had some trouble.

Lost all our provisions.

- And, well, the smell of your cooking.

The aroma.

We feel terrible in asking.

We can see you don't have much.

We make do.

Nate Clintoff, you are not helping.

-- Um...

-- If we might...

..join you for your meal.

We'd share a plate between us.

We won't intrude at your table. We'd be forever indebted to you.

- Horse dead in the yard.

Not long butchered a bullock.

Eugh!

It's a war injury.

It plays up every now and again.

Did your Da do that to you, Mister?

Mind your business.

Er, no, no. In Her Majesty's service.

- Master... - Danny.

- Transvaal Rebellion.

Fighting the Boers in South Africa.

Louisa, please.

- Twelve years behind a desk

was enough for Sergeant Clintoff.

I thought we could do with a change,

a challenge and some fresh air.

So, here we are.

Australia!

To police a town in the bush.

- I'm goin' out...

I've always lived in a big city called London.

- Me too!

London?

- Oh my gosh, how blessed!

Yes, London. It's the capital city of England.

- And you're gonna be the boss of the Everton outpost?

Well, Everton's becoming a town

and I'm here to uphold Her Majesty's law

and administer the new legislations.

Just in time for the Sale.

Yes.

They wanted us here a little earlier

to settle in before the big day

but we got caught crossing the river.

Deeper than I thought.

Sheep be down from the high country soon.

That's where my husband is. He's a drover.

He's been away three months.

Nate and I have hardly left each other's sides

since we were married.

Can't imagine what it must be like.

Must be wonderful

when he finally does come home to the family.

I love watching my Joe cantering across the flats, coming home.

Sun setting behind him, children running to greet him.

Waving his hat with joy on seeing them.

- To Everton, you say? - Yes.

Sergeant, Mrs Clintoff,

I have a favour to ask.

- It's too heavy for you.

- I'm alright. - Good boy.

It's very nice of the McGuinnesses

to take the children for you.

Since Joe Junior's birth. Novelty for the children.

Miss Shirley enjoys it, having no children of her own.

Gives me time to prepare. Rest.

Rest?

I hope to start my own business. I'm a writer.

Thinking a monthly journal for women.

And I'm just so looking forward to the challenges

of life on the land.

I wish you all the very best with that then, Mrs Clintoff.

Louisa, please.

Thank you again, Mrs Johnson.

It was so lovely to meet you and your...

- ..beautiful children.

-- I'm gonna win! -- No, you won't!

- There they are. Up you hop.

- Help me in please, Mister.

- Good luck with your birth. Looks like any day now.

- I want to sit there.

The baby's delivery should be straightforward enough.

If you're ever in town, perhaps we could get together.

Not much of a town there yet, Mrs Clintoff.

Still a fair distance. My Joe brings the supplies home.

Oh, I see.

Excuse me.

- Thank you, Sergeant Clintoff.

You should get going

if you wish to make Everton by nightfall.

We do.

- Well, let's make haste to the McGuinnesses.

They hold the keys to our humble new abode.

I can show you the way.

Oh, why, thank you, Master Danny.

We are very grateful to have you as our travel companion.

Joe Junior, you shouldn't have done that!

I want my doll.

- Oh, please, let me.

Thank you again, Mrs Johnson. We're truly indebted to you.

Now, who does this belong to?

-- I want my dolly. - Oh. There you are.

Play nicely. We have a long ride ahead of us.

Get a good trade with the meat.

Donkey or horse, either will do.

- Yes, Ma. - Flour. Rice. Sugar, tea.

- And bullets. We're low. - Yes, Ma.

And get some of Miss Shirley's cakes

and sweets into your skinny malinky long legs.

And then straight home, son. I'll need your help.

Yes, Ma.

Always with you.

-- You right? -- Thank you.

- No fightin'.

You hear me? Joe Junior, Henry James.

- Yes, Ma. - Yes, Ma.

Look after ya sister.

- Yes, Ma. - Yes, Ma.

I love yous.

I love you.

- Be good for the McGuinnesses.

Good luck with the baby, Ma.

You hear me? I love yous.

Love you! Bye, Ma!

- Love you. - Love you.

- Yah!

- Thank you, Mrs Clintoff.

- Take care, Mrs Johnson. -- Will do.

- Good luck, Ma. -- Bye!

- Love you! - Bye!

Bye Ma!

- See you tomorrow! - Love you!

- I'll eat some cake for you.

Yeah, go on.

Go on.

Go on.

She's lucky we found her.

Hasn't lost too much condition.

- Yeah? - Yeah.

Head up. Go on!

Come on.

Get up. Steady on, girl.

Get around.

Go on.

Hey!

Ooh.

Oh!

Ooh.

Please, my children!

Oh, good God. A foot.

- Mr Edwards, we will do all we can to bring those to justice

for the brutal murders of your wife and children.

We hope you don't leave us.

Certainly, Father, but I have other priorities now.

Is this correct, Mr Edwards?

No, the Black's nose was more refined.

Get this body onto the wagon.

Thinner.

And his brow was a heavier brow.

Trooper Leslie.

Mrs Joe Johnson, further south.

I'm worried about her.

She's alone, vulnerable and in a delicate condition.

Nothing delicate about our mountain women.

I beg your pardon, Father McGuinness?

Molly Johnson grew up out here.

She knows the ways.

Crack shot, too.

Trust me, your attention needs to be on finding the murderer.

I wish not for any other woman or child be harmed, Father.

It's my duty to see to that.

Quickest way to the Johnson's from here.

Um...

Over that hill there,

and down the range on the other side

which I would not recommend.

A local mountain man wouldn't attempt it, Sir.

I'd take the main thoroughfare.

Come on!

You up for a good night?

Oh, good.

Ah, not so bad. And you?

- Fortunes told!

Happy endings guaranteed!

Pick a fighter. Give us your name.

Fair fights. The winner takes all.

Roll up! Roll up!

Roll up, roll up! Roll up, roll up! Have a bet!

"Bodies, one Trooper Phillips,

"one native policeman Dempsey Buckskin, found dead.

"Stop.

"Three weeks back. Stop.

"North of Victorian border. Stop. Moving native prisoner.

"Black tracker notes the prisoner killed them."

That's six people dead, including the Edwards family.

What would make him come back up into the mountains?

Probably a Ngarigo man, Sir. Or Walgalu.

- Tribes local to the area. - Thank you, I've been briefed.

I'd advise a raiding party, Sir.

Mr Jonathan Edwards might not be a man of the land

like his forebears.

His business is mainly in Melbourne these days...

I did question the man, Trooper.

But it's our local wool he's using to build his empire, Sir,

which the locals are very grateful for.

- Get to your point.

If we don't organise a raiding party, they will.

And they won't spare the gins or children.

We will spare the women and children. That's an order.

Sir. If I may suggest, bring troopers from Jarren's Outpost.

It's the most southern to the Victorian border.

- Sweeping the area as they come.

And can take in the Johnson's property as well.

But I'm hoping that the man of the house

gets his supplies and heads home.

Then our responsibility to Molly Johnson is over.

Or you could take a little ride out there yourself.

Not my strong suit, Sir. Riding.

I've been briefed.

Man Oi!

Watch your mouth, ya mongrel!

- There'll be mayhem before the sun's down.

You'll need me here.

What's the outpost to the north?

Milbaral, Sir.

Send a telegram to both outposts,

seeing if they can spare some men

and when they think they might be able to move out.

Immediately would be preferred.

-- These up? - Yes, Sir.

- Eugh!

We're even, now get goin'.

Food, Missus.

Been running for days, carrying this wound. This.

I heard you coming.

Laid down there, hoping you wouldn't shoot.

You schooled?

Muloga Mission. Father Matthew's wife and daughter.

Educated Black. A danger in itself.

Bury your baby girl, Missus.

Least I can do.

I can fell a tree for you. Stack the wood heap.

Level the ground there.

I reckon you don't want the snakes getting in under.

And the collar?

My crime, Missus?

Existing whilst Black.

Yadaka.

Of the Guugu Yimithirr adopted Ngarigo.

One night. Fell a tree, and you need to be gone.

Two.

Full moon then. Good to walk by, Missus.

My Joe be home soon.

He's a drover, bringing sheep down from the high country.

Your children?

What do you know of my children?

I noticed the little stretcher beds by the wall, Missus.

- They're none of your business. - Yes, boss.

He's the boss. I'm just a drover's wife.

But cross me and I'll kill ya.

I'll shoot you where you stand,

and I'll bury you where you fall.

Yes, Missus.

Thank you, Missus.

Bury that deep.

Missus?

So you are always with her.

A gin showed me.

She helped me bury my firstborn, Jack.

She helped me bury my Da, too.

Cried a river, she did.

Howled like the wailing winds in a storm.

It's not like she knew him.

I'll get my hat.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Ma!

Danny, it's alright.

- Ma! - Danny!

- Sergeant Clintoff!

Ah, Henry James. Joe Junior.

Don't you both look, er, smart.

Henry James, Joe Junior, I told you not to run!

Afternoon, Miss Shirley.

Enjoying the festivities?

No.

Father McGuinness?

My brother is still with Mr Edwards and the undertaker,

bless them.

Louisa?

- Ah, she's not feeling her best.

At home. Bed rest with her notepad and pen.

And miss all this?

I wasn't expecting all this, to be honest,

but she's really not well.

There is an influenza about, a nasty one.

She needs to be careful. Give her my best.

You know, Sergeant,

if we're to have a decent, godly, law-abiding town,

this sort of nonsense needs to be brought under control.

- Oi! You can't handle two of our women.

- I'll do my best!

- Enough! Come, children.

-- There. Have a good day. -- Thank you.

- Afternoon. Sergeant Nate Clintoff.

I wonder if I might ask you a few questions.

-- Mmm. - Have you seen this man?

Wonder if you've seen this man.

- Shoot the bastard if I do.

- Do you know Joe Johnson? - Name doesn't ring a bell.

- The drover? - No.

- Seen this man?

- No. Can't say I have. Sorry about that.

Thank you.

Sergeant Nate Clintoff?

Sir?

Alfred Eisenmangher. District Court Judge.

A pleasure, Your Honour.

A little more than you bargained for.

They did say a big day for the Sale.

Walking straight into a murder investigation.

Children, for goodness' sake.

We make an example of anyone who commits murder from here on in.

Understood, Sir.

Walk with me.

We must be diligent.

The Edwards are a prominent family here in the high country.

They've been here since the 1820s.

Our founding fathers.

It's their money progressing Everton to further development.

If Edwards leaves

his money goes with him, and the town folds.

And my retirement plan falls over.

As we speak, Sir,

waiting on word from outposts to the north and south

for trooper support.

- Hm-mm.

Welcome to Everton.

If you make it past Sunday, I'll officially swear you in.

- Good day.

- Mm-hm.

Afternoon, gentlemen.

Sergeant Nate Clintoff.

Martha Murray.

Marti preferred.

Um, I'm looking for Joe Johnson.

Joe Johnson.

Parsen, eh?

- He's in Robert Parsen's team. - Parsen's.

Joe Johnson's yaraman.

There's his horse.

She's keen to get home, by the look of her.

- I was hoping Mr Johnson was too.

- Well, a man's gotta have a fight,

a feed and a fuck before facing the family, Sergeant.

My pardon.

Was it his family murdered?

Word's out, then?

- Oh, word travels fast around here,

considering the distance it takes to get anywhere.

-- Don't know 'im, boss. - It wasn't his family,

but it was in the proximity of his property

so just bringing it to his attention

the urgency to get home to his wife and children.

- Get out of it, McPharlen. Leave her alone.

Well, it looks like you're in luck. There's Parsen's team.

- Got a meeting with a blackfella.

- Up at the boxing tent. - You gonna have a go, Parsen?

- Thank you, I could use some. - You'll be right, mate.

Show 'em what you're made of.

- Very fine cooks. Best feed around here.

- Maurice, what do we think?

-- It's gone. - Sorry?

My wallet has gone. Sergeant!

- Sergeant, I've been robbed! - Excuse me!

That bloody drunken rogue swaggy!

- He went that way! - Go, man, go!

Ugh! Egh!

- Go on, get up! Get up!

Let's get him.

Go on! That's it. Come on!

- Knock him out. Knock him out!

Hit him! Hit him hard!

Smash him in the head. Smash him in the head!

Get the bastard.

Good stuff, Sergeant.

-- Yeah. Yeah.

Not bad.

Trooper.

- Back to business.

♪ Oh black, black ♪

♪ Black is the colour ♪

♪ Of my true love's hair ♪

♪ Her face is something wondrous fair ♪

♪ The purest smile ♪

♪ And the gentlest of hands ♪

♪ I love the ground ♪

♪ Whereon she stands ♪

♪ So fair thee well ♪

♪ My own true love ♪

♪ The time has come ♪

♪ Still I wish you well ♪

Are you a bad man, then?

I don't think I am.

Where's your boots? You lose 'em?

No.

Where's yours?

Got none. What do you do when the snow falls?

You ask a lot of questions.

Ma says that too.

But if you don't ask, you don't know, eh?

You answer all the questions you ask?

Yes, Sir. I like talking.

We make up stories, too.

I tamed a bear in rough seas.

Taught six horses how to dance.

Fed a tiger with my bare hands.

And once I was a clown called Tippo in the circus.

I'm twelve now, but that's a good story.

Twelve, huh?

Three months back.

You're ready for Men's Business.

Is that the same Men's Business my Da

does with the whore woman to the west?

That's what Ma calls her. I think that's her last name.

No, this Men's Business

is different from your Da's Men's Business.

But one day you'll be interested in his Men's Business too.

So, what's your Men's Business?

Your responsibilities to your Ma, your brothers, your sister.

The chores you do.

Special lessons learnt about the animals, the land,

the stars.

The final ask would be

your first kill.

Kill swiftly. No suffering.

Extend your arm behind you, level with your shoulder.

One action, straight through. Shoulder and hip.

So our feet don't get cold,

when we see the first mist rise in the valley,

we head down the mountain and north for the winter.

We've had the first mist. What are you still doing here?

It's not for want of trying, Danny, let me tell you.

I'm supposed to be getting Da's boots this winter.

I'll have to chock the heel, though.

From when Da was a little fella.

His Da broke it. Didn't fix it right.

But I'm too quick for my Da.

He whipped his belt at me, buckle end.

He didn't mean it. He was drunk.

He does silly things.

It's not what you wear on your feet, Danny.

It's how you carry yourself makes a decent man.

Come on. Have a throw.

Arm extended behind you.

Level with your shoulder.

Alright.

One action, straight through.

Shoulder and hip.

Good.

Bless you. Come.

Must keep the filing even.

Craftsmanship and patience, Danny.

That song you were singing this morning.

Your Granddey's favourite, hey?

- Sang it while he worked, sang it while he ate.

Sang it in his sleep. Speaking of, bed.

- Oh!

Son, you have to be up at sparrow's fart

to collect your brothers and sister.

I was hoping I could help Yadaka finish the wood.

Daniel!

A story, please, Ma! Please?

The bullock one. Yadaka might want to hear it.

No, Yadaka, you tell your story,

about the clown called Tippo in the circus.

Fillis Circus, Missus.

South African circus.

I was good with the children that came to watch.

Started in my homelands.

Land of the coloured sands and rainforest.

They abandoned me in Melbourne.

I was arrested for being destitute.

Father Matthews procured my release from jail.

He gave me a white name.

- A white name? - But I don't use it.

Taught me to read, write, and play the tuba.

Mmm.

- About ten days back now, Ma went to put the broom away.

She hears this snortin' and gruntin.'

The others are out back, playing.

Ma goes to the door. Cracks it open.

There's this big bloody wild bullock,

horns the width of a grown man's arm span.

Brrrrrr!

Ay! Ah!

My brothers and sister start to move around front.

The bullock looks over at them.

- I give Ma the gun.

She uses the door frame as her guide.

- Bang!

Shot him straight between the eyes.

- What?

What'd you just say?

How you shot the bullock straight between the eyes.

Ma?

Goodnight, son.

Night, Yadaka.

- The last few days are catching up on me.

No!

Missus, it's me. It's me!

Found this tucked underneath the workbench.

Give it here.

Goodnight.

No throwing it at your brothers.

-- Danny.

Danny.

Come on.

-- Bless you.

Thank you.

As I was saying, I wonder what Mrs Johnson's had?

A new baby, wouldn't it be wonderful?

Little baby to 'goo' and 'gah' over.

You promised.

I'm worried about you.

- I'll send for a doctor.

I would love to go up there and see her and the new...

How thoughtless.

We should have offered to take the children back.

I can't get out to see her regarding business,

let alone for leisure.

Certainly not with you as sick as you are.

- Mmm. - Mmm.

I hope she's alright out there.

Any advancements on the murder case?

Ahh, once reinforcements arrive,

we'll head back out to the Edwards' property

for a thorough search and we'll go from there.

What's this?

Oh, good Lord.

- That's the perfect gift. - Mmm.

Papa told me to give it to you the day after your first day.

He said you would appreciate it more.

- Oh.

How'd you keep it hidden?

Well, the real question is,

how did I keep it dry in that blasted river?

- Mmm.

Thank you.

Uh, could you fix Trooper Leslie a plate?

He's been there all night.

Yes, of course.

But first...

Well, well, well.

First published female writer in Everton.

Which is named after Evelyn Edwards.

How's that for some local trivia?

Mmm.

Founding family, arrived 1820s.

Folklore has it, Charles Edwards fathered a Black child.

Whitest...

Whitest 'something' around, something like that.

- What?

Um, well, may one ask,

under what guise did this conversation take place?

Well, Miss Shirley called it history.

'Battered Wives - Is it purely a husband's right?'

It's a serious topic to introduce yourself with.

Well I'm very serious about this, Nate.

My sister remained silent and died.

City life, bush, or mountain country,

we need to give it a voice.

It needs legislation.

You look very handsome in your hat, Sergeant Clintoff.

- This is a first. - New legislation.

Joe Johnson head home?

Was he in town?

Well, his horse was tethered to a tree in the yard.

- So I am assuming. - Mc- No.

We found his horse running with some brumbies.

- We're headin' out there later today,

see if me old mate's alright.

Take his horse back.

First time in eight years he's missed the drove.

First time. Eight years. Missed the drove.

Why you askin'?

Thank you, gentlemen.

Gentlemen's a bit much.

But gidday to ya.

Good luck.

Sir?

Louisa?

Darling?

Nate.

Hmmm?

I'm heading out to the Johnson's.

Hmmm...

Louisa?

I'll fix your hair.

Your features are quite fine.

White father.

You know him?

I don't think my mother even knew him.

You got family?

You?

I did.

Black shining skin in full moonlight.

And when she danced, smooth.

Like shallow running water over river rocks.

I found my wife and my children,

all the old people,

dead.

Reading the tracks.

My family forced into the river.

The water slowing them.

They were fired upon, from both banks.

Murdered.

Tribe put me out.

I wouldn't go with them for payback.

I knew nothing would come of it.

Too many whites.

Too many guns now.

I didn't know my Ma.

She died giving birth to me.

Molly.

Pet name to Mary.

It is you.

That Ngarigo woman that helped you.

Ginny May. She's my adopted mother.

On the night you were born, she held you in her arms

while your father cried over your dead mother's body.

Gins help white women in childbirth all the time.

She's helped me.

Ginny May kept the story alive

of her sister's love for a man of wrong skin.

Black Mary.

Fire red hair, "whitest gin around."

That's what the district folk would call her.

Black Mary worked as a cook for some drovers

and your Da was one of them.

Your mother.

She's Black.

You are done here.

Ginny May knew that Black Mary's love for the Scotsman was real,

and his for her.

Your mother and father kept to themselves

'cause no-one would accept them.

Their love was deep

as the highest peak to the lowest valley

and as wild as the Snowy River.

Stop!

- Black Mary's your mother.

Ngarigo, your family. No shame in that.

You take your filthy talking mouth

and you get the fuck off my land.

Go!

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

- Whoa, whoa. Steady, girl.

Steady on now.

I heard yelling. Is everything alright here?

Yes, thank you.

Missus, I'll attend to my duties.

Don't you move!

Good Lord. It is you.

In the Queen's name,

I arrest you for the murder of Mrs Edwards and her children.

And you, Mrs Johnson, I'll need

you to accompany me to the lock-up for questioning.

I didn't know he killed any...

- Regarding the whereabouts of your husband.

He didn't make the drove.

His fellow workers found his horse.

Now put down the gun, Mrs Johnson, please.

But my children will be home soon.

Stay down. I will shoot.

- I can't go with you. My children.

I'm under strict orders to bring you in.

- If I come with you... -- Mrs Johnson, please.

- Take me, boss. - What'll happen to my children?

- Down. - Take me.

- Quiet! - My children will be home soon.

- Put the gun down! -- I'm your concern.

- Take me, boss. - I will shoot! Mrs Johnson!

What will happen to my children?

-- Take me. - Shut up, woman!

Bury him deep.

I've always thought that.

Well, assumed it, actually.

Molly Johnson's mother. Black Mary.

Whitest gin around.

That's what the district folk would call her.

I remember the talk well.

Cocksure woman. Spoke well.

Held her head high. Eyeballed her superiors.

The audacity of the heathen.

Mixed blood, you see.

She thought it gave her some sort of superiority.

Men were infatuated.

Rumour has it, Black Mary is an offspring of Charles Edwards.

FATHER Mc- Now, now, sister.

"If any man among you seem to be religious

"and bridleth not his tongue but deceiveth his own heart,

"this man's religion is vain."

- James 1, Verse 26.

Forgive me, dear brother, for I have sinned.

Octoroons is what I would call Molly Johnson's children.

Just a touch of the tar brush, but enough.

For their protection,

the children's removal is authorised.

Ohhh.

- I should be leaving, Missus. - You should.

Come with me.

Molly.

There's a cave.

North-east, two and a half days' walk from here.

You'll come to the great waterhole. Keep to the right.

You'll hit Snowgum Alley. Keep the range on your left.

As it thickens, there's a cluster of rocks

that looks like a...a fortress.

It's there.

Food, shelter, blankets.

And in the spring, people.

Your people.

That's where I'm heading.

I'll fix you some food.

Nate.

Did you believe her?

I'm fine, thank you for your concern.

I'm sorry.

Who were you referring to?

Doesn't matter.

Well, it must.

You, standing at the window

at this ridiculous hour of the morning.

Molly Johnson.

Her husband, waving his hat, with joy at seeing the children.

Somehow it didn't ring true.

The look on her children's faces gave it away as well.

You will be my saving grace

if I can blame you for all of this.

The Trooper.

My Joe.

I'm sorry, but my children need me. They need their mother.

I'd never just kill for the sake of it,

but fight for my children, fight for my life, I will.

Make no excuses for it.

That's what you did?

He's buried there, under the wood heap.

His grave, shallow. That's why the mound was there.

The children were going to be up soon.

Just stacked the last of the wood on top.

Take them.

For your safety.

You're a good man.

- She killed him.

Why would you say such a thing?

There was a smell around the wood heap, so...

Bittersweet smell.

I've smelt it before.

In war.

I smelt it again, at the Edwards'.

Maybe Mrs Johnson was protecting herself.

Louisa.

I know at the core of your plight is your sister's death.

But you can't pollute every man and wife's marital dispute

with your own biased perception.

The boy related your injury

to the normalcy of violence inflicted upon one by a father.

Why would one say such a thing

if they had not a story of their own to compare?

This land needs law.

Not a moral compass.

Whilst hunting savages in this land,

please do not turn into one.

Can I call on Danny, say in six months' time?

Please, it's too dangerous.

Take him on his first kill, with his spear.

Thinking Men's Business.

I promised him.

And if I can take you and your daughter on a walk

where the Snowy starts to widen...

..there's these beautiful wildflowers.

Be blooming by then.

Don't move, ya black bastard.

I'll put a bullet through your fuckin' head.

Sit.

Move!

State your business.

I drive with Joe.

Except this drove he didn't show.

First time in eight years.

And I felt obliged to drop by

and see if me old mate's alright.

And on hearing what I just heard,

I'm more than a little worried.

- No need to be, Mr... - Parsen. Robert Parsen.

No need for your concern, Mr Robert Parsen.

Who the fuck did you kill to get them clothes?

- Here.

You dare look a white man in the eye, jacky?

I find your facial expression inappropriate for a nigger.

- Eugh!

You wearing Joe's boots, ya bastard!

- No, wait!

I gave them to him for some work he had done.

You got no shame, ya harlot!

- I beg your pardon? - You heard me.

Now where's my mate? Where's Joe?

Gone. Left me.

All alone with the children. No food, no nothing.

And my wee one dead, dead from all the worry.

And this man offered to help

and for his time, I gave him Joe's boots.

What the fuck's Joe got on his feet?

I found him in a compromising position with a whore.

Riding him, she was, and it wasn't fuckin' side saddle.

Good for him.

- Eugh!

- No!

Here, leave it!

Fuck.

Mc- Joe!

Where the hell are ya, ya useless bastard?

What the fuck happened here?

Rope up this Black bastard.

Mc- Well, well, well. Looky, looky here.

- What took you so long?

I had to take a shit.

Mc- Hey. These are Joe's boots.

- Leave it.

This hard-headed bastard's still alive.

Oh, hello.

- Argh! - Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Hoo-hoo!

Put it down. Or I'll put a hole through ya.

Are you gonna shoot her?

Depends on her.

Eugh!

Please, my children. My children!

- Eugh!

Ma, it's me.

He dead, Ma?

Two of your Da's mates stopped by.

They brought word about your Da.

On the drove, up in the high country.

Your Da's horse slipped.

Stop, Ma.

Hitting his head.

Dead. Something like that. That'll do.

No, Ma!

It has to be.

I know, Ma!

Know what, son?

Not a very happy night for my birthday.

Shaming me manhood in front of a whore!

Joe, please.

Think of the children.

Shoot him.

Our secret.

Danny?

Where are the others?

Did you say something?

Where are your brothers and sister?

Miss Shirley.

Miss Shirley told that judge fella. Called us Octoroons.

What's that, Ma?

Come on. Get your coat.

Come.

Candle.

You have been very good to me and my children over the years

and for that I am very grateful.

But damn you to hell for thinking

you know what's best for my children.

I'm taking your gun or the boy dies.

Where are you two off to on this fine morning?

Well, huh?

- I'm talkin' to ya, woman.

Eugh!

Tell him to put it down.

-- Danny, please. - On the ground.

Please don't hurt my son.

Well, that depends on him.

Danny, put it down.

Danny, put it down.

Put it down.

I'll do whatever you want.

But please let my...

my son go.

-- Ma! - Eugh!

Danny.

I'll meet you there. Remember?

The cave we spoke about?