Original subtitles

You shouldn't be here.

Why did you come?

The camp has moved, and I'm left behind.

An old woman alone has no use.

You mean they just left you by yourself?

You know it is the Crow law.

I have no family now.

I have no one to care for me.

I must die.

It's about chow time, isn't it, Major,

or have you given up eating?

Why don't you quit bellyachin'?

We're gonna make camp down in that draw, anyhow.

Well, you happy now, scrub-face?

I'm eatin'.

Doesn't take much to make some men happy.

Me, I like a shave and a bath,

or maybe get into town now and then, see a woman.

Hey, looks like we're having company.

Howdy, mister.

I saw your fire.

We could use a little help if you can spare it.

Sure. Name it. If we've got it, you can have it.

The old woman's pretty sick.

If you could spare some medicine, I'd sure appreciate it.

Sure.

Wooster, bring your medicine kit over here.

See if there's anything in there that'll help her.

If we could lie her down here and keep her warm.

Sure.

We'd better get her off the horse.

What tribe is she?

She's Crow. That's right.

I'd like to know who I thank for all this.

My name is Seth Adams.

I'm wagon boss of this here outfit.

This is Flint McCullough, my scout. Howdy.

Doc there is Charlie Wooster, my lead driver.

Glad to know you gentlemen.

We didn't get your name.

Oh, it doesn't matter.

Where'd you pick up the old squaw?

That squaw's my mother.

She ain't got much life left in her.

Can't even open her mouth to take a sip of whiskey.

She's old and tired. She needs rest.

You look like you could do with a little rest yourself.

Come over and have a cup of coffee.

Doc here will take good care of her.

Thank you.

Go ahead, sit down.

There you are.

You say the squaw's your mother?

That's right.

It isn't very often we see one of our own

living with a tribe of Indians. How come?

Well, depends on how you look at it, I guess.

I'm interested.

Mind telling us about it?

No, as a matter of fact,

I haven't had a chance to talk about it.

It started back in Boston about three years ago.

The stranger went on to tell us his story,

how it all started.

He had become a young legal clerk

in the firm of Lorimer & Forbes,

one of Boston's leading law offices,

and he'd also fallen in love

with Mr. Lorimer's daughter, Lucinda.

Good morning, dear. Have you spoken to him?

Well, not yet, but I will.

Just walk right in and talk to him.

He won't bite you.

Lucinda. What are you doing here?

Mr. Lorimer, may I speak to you, sir?

Can't it wait?

Well, it's about Lucinda, sir.

I've asked her to marry me.

Wait in my office, Lucinda.

I can only say that this news

comes as quite a shock to me.

Aren't you presuming quite a bit?

Well, I know I'm only a clerk now, sir,

but one day I hope to be a successful lawyer,

and then I can give Lucinda everything she wants.

I'm afraid I must disagree with you, my boy.

You don't even have a name to give her.

I don't quite follow you, sir.

I suppose I should have told you this

when I took you from the orphanage.

Told me what, sir? About your origin.

You were left on their doorstep when you were still an infant.

Since even foundlings must have some identity,

you were given the name of the street the orphanage was on.

I'm sure you'll understand my reluctance

to allow my daughter to marry a man named after a street corner.

I'm afraid I'll have to ask you not to see Lucinda anymore.

I tried to talk to Lucinda,

but she refused to see me.

I kept on thinking about being a man without a name,

so I decided to come out west

because I'd heard that out here

a man's name didn't matter.

What the stranger had been told about the West

was true.

He soon learned that it didn't matter

where a man was born, or how,

or what his name was.

What counted most was just how fast a man was with a gun.

He knew he was still a nobody,

a greenhorn, a tenderfoot,

and naturally, he was a little disappointed.

But before very long,

he learned that not having a name

was not the worst thing that could happen to a man.

He was to learn what it was

not to be a man at all.

He had no idea why the Crows had killed the men with him

and spared him.

He was to be one of their special trophies,

something the braves could bring back to the Crow camp

and put on display for a while.

Run!

At first he thought he couldn't stand it,

but after a while, he became so numb

that nothing really mattered.

The Chief had definite plans for the stranger,

so to save him, they put him on a horse.

He almost felt unhuman,

and he kept thinking back about the pattern of his life.

As he went on telling his story,

he sounded like a man who felt no pity for himself,

but had simply given up.

I have brought you a gift, Mother.

He will work for you, do your bidding.

No, my sister.

Let him sleep.

For a while, he was able to forget,

thanks to that old Indian woman,

who seemed to sense the confusion

and exhaustion within this lost soul.

The tones of the stranger's voice were dead.

It was as if life had left him a stranger to the world.

I have brought you this.

No, thanks. I'm not very hungry.

It is not to eat.

It is for your skin, where the sun has burned it.

Rub this on, and it will make it better.

Thanks. That's very kind.

You do not expect kindness?

The Crow are a friendly people.

Yellow Robe and his men killed three of my people.

Would you call that friendly?

The young braves think they must ride out

and add glory to themselves.

I do not understand this.

Here in the camp, we are rich.

We have much buffalo for meat and clothing,

and many horses.

Why when they have so much are there some who want more?

I don't understand it either.

Back in Boston, we have men who are the same way.

Boston?

I guess you have never been there.

It is a camp of your tribe.

One of the biggest.

You will tell me of this Boston one time?

Oh, uh...

may I ask you a question?

Are you Yellow Robe's wife?

I am his sister.

They call me Bright Star.

Bright Star. It's a very good name for you.

I must go now.

If you eat our food, you must work.

I'm ready. What will you have me do?

You belong to my mother. She will tell you.

What work is there for me?

First there is the gathering of wood...

There, beyond the clearing.

If you think of escape, forget it.

There are Crow scouts in those hills.

I was told to gather wood. I'll gather it and return.

You, what are you called?

I have no name.

Everyone has a name, even the dogs.

I'll think of one.

Now he had a chance to give himself a name.

Since it had to be an Indian name,

he could have easily chosen something impressive,

but he told us that in captivity

you learn that survival is the only thing that counts.

A horse worked hard.

It had to do what it was told,

but then it was always well taken care of

and was allowed a certain amount of freedom,

and freedom was what he was after.

So he became a man called Horse.

All summer long, Horse did what he was told to do.

He worked hard. He never argued or complained,

but all the time, he planned and schemed.

He thought all summer of only one thing... escape.

The captive...

The man called Horse...

You are interested in him?

I like him.

No more than that?

How could there be?

When he is near, there is a look in your eye,

the same look I had when Yellow Robe was courting me.

But I have not been courted.

I know. Yellow Robe would not approve.

But still, there is a look whenever...

He knew from the sudden silence

that they'd been talking about him,

but he couldn't ask them what they said

because a man in his position

wasn't allowed to speak to the ladies of the house.

Horse learned a lot of things during that summer,

and he was learning more.

He found the old woman could be human.

She made him moccasins.

He didn't know at the time whether it was

really out of kindness

or whether she thought he could work harder

with something on his feet.

But later on he found out

that she was the kindest person he'd ever known.

Anyway, he had the moccasins.

He was glad to get them.

But there were things he wanted much more,

things he needed to make his escape.

He needed a horse and he needed a weapon.

May I try that? You know how?

No, but I'd like to learn.

Stop! Do not laugh!

You don't laugh with the others. Why not?

Not to shoot well is a serious matter. It is not for laughing.

Well, it was a pretty bad shot. You must admit that.

I do not laugh because I too was a bad shot, when I was young.

When you were young? How old are you now?

I have 12 summers.

Why did they not teach you this when you were a little boy?

Well, where I come from,

most little boys don't learn the bow and arrow.

But, when your father and the other braves brought home buffalo,

did they not talk about it?

We didn't have buffalo meat in our home.

Your people have strange ways,

but I will be your friend and teach you many things.

I'm called Little Hunter.

We will try again.

Horse tries to learn the way of the Crow.

Little Hunter was just showing me how to use it.

This sport is over. Return to camp.

For a horse, there is always work.

Autumn was almost over, and soon a long, hard winter

would set in across the plains.

If Horse was going to escape,

he knew it would have to be soon.

Plans for his escape had gone through his mind many, many times,

and though he knew his chances were not too good,

the time had come, and he couldn't stop now.

There was one thing he didn't count on.

He'd forgotten that Indian ponies

were usually trained like dogs

to be on the alert for strangers.

Sioux riders! Sioux riders!

They will not get far. Come!

He'd lost his one chance to escape,

and ironically enough, what did him in

was one of his own kind... A horse.

Winter was almost on him,

and the Crow, as in the years past,

moved to warmer quarters, into a valley where they knew

they would be protected from the icy winds that would come.

And Horse,

he carried his pack like a good horse was expected to do.

It would be Spring now before there would be

the remotest chance of escape again.

Spring seemed far away, but he could use that time

thinking about escape, and planning it.

You burn a light to the sky. Why?

No, not to the sky. To the heavens.

It's Christmastime.

Many years ago, a bright star, like you,

guided wise men to someone they came to worship.

The Great Spirit? The First Maker?

No.

The Son of the First Maker.

Among my people, it's a time for prayer

and a time for giving.

I made this for you.

It's not much, but it's a gift.

It has great beauty.

I have a gift for you too.

One night, much time ago, before the snows,

I was walking in the camp and saw someone trying to steal a horse.

Everyone thought it was a Sioux raider,

but I knew it was not.

You saw me?

It is nothing you can wear like...

Like this,

but it is a gift.

It's a wonderful gift, and I can wear it.

I'll always wear it in my heart.

You will go to your teepee.

You will not speak to my sister

without asking Yellow Robe,

and Yellow Robe's answer will be no.

I could have told Yellow Robe

he was just as pompous as old Mr. Lorimer,

but there'd have been no point to it.

He wouldn't have known what I was talking about.

How is she?

Not so good. She's awful weak.

She hadn't eaten in three or four days when I found her.

I wouldn't try to feed her now.

Let her rest a little while first.

Charlie, we need more wood for the fire,

and put a fresh pot of coffee on, will you?

Yes, sir.

I'll have some more of that coffee, if you don't mind.

Have a drink of whiskey if you'd like.

Coffee's better medicine for me.

It's been a long time since I've had it.

Have all you want.

That first winter with the Crows,

I could have used a lot of it,

but I was more interested in staying away from Yellow Robe

than warding off the cold.

I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to get away.

He went on to tell us

that the long winter finally passed,

and the Crow returned to their camp.

Spring had come, and once again,

the young bucks started courting the girls.

Horse, you should get yourself a flute

and play before Bright Star.

She would like that.

So would I, but where would I get a flute?

It is only the bone of an eagle.

The braves pretend they shoot the eagle,

and the girls pretend they believe them,

but they find it on the ground.

Here, try it.

That's all there is to it? There is much more.

You must paint your face and ride before her teepee, dressed for battle.

Well, since I don't have a horse

and I haven't any battle dress, I guess I'm in trouble.

Marrying is not easy, I hear the old ones say.

Yeah.

Horse was permitted to wander away from camp now

because the Indians knew it wouldn't do him any good

if he was thinking about escape.

But he still didn't have what he needed most...

A horse.

He knew that Bright Star was the only one

that could or would help him,

but he was not allowed to get near her at camp.

He decided he had to take that chance,

to see her alone.

Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to walk in on you.

I was bathing in the stream.

But we must not talk.

I've got to talk to you.

I could rub buffalo grease on your back.

That would be permitted.

But we cannot talk.

Yellow Robe isn't here. He'll never know.

We could go bathing together.

That would be permitted.

I don't think we better do that.

In the camp of the Bostons, they do not bathe?

Oh, yes, we bathe,

but boys and girls don't bathe together.

Not in Boston, anyway. Especially not in Boston.

Did... did you court a girl in this Boston?

Yes, I did.

I asked her to be my wife.

You had love in your heart for her?

Very much.

But her father wouldn't let her marry me.

He did not like the horses you offered.

No, it wasn't that.

In Boston, we don't give horses.

Well, then, I do not understand.

You will tell me how the courting is done in Boston.

Well...

if a boy likes a girl, he tries to let her know it.

He may give her flowers...

like this.

That is a nice thing.

The boy gives the girl a flower,

and the girl becomes his wife.

Oh...

no, there's a little more to it than that.

They start going together, and, uh...

he takes her for walks.

That is good.

And, um...

They sit together near a stream, like this.

That is very good.

Then he tells her he loves her,

and he kisses her.

Kisses?

I do not know "kisses."

You will show me?

This is how Horse obeys his orders?

I'm sorry. I was just out walking,

and I saw Bright Star.

He meant no harm.

Horse does not listen to Yellow Robe's orders.

He must die.

The fault was not his.

I asked him to talk to me.

He must die!

He is not yours to do with as you wish.

He belongs to our mother.

Yellow Robe will not kill him.

If you destroy what belongs to another,

you will go before the Council,

and you too will die.

But what of Bright Star?

No brave will have her if he knows she speaks in secret

to A Man Called Horse.

Perhaps one day Horse will have gifts to give.

Then he can speak openly to Bright Star.

Horse is a slave. He will remain so.

Go, get your things!

Charlie, maybe your medicine isn't too good.

Here, try some of mine.

Nothing like a hot cup of broth for a body.

I don't know. She's never had it before.

Can't do her any harm.

Here, Old Mother, try some of this.

It'll warm your bones.

I'm afraid I found her too late.

I know you did all you could.

She'll be all right.

She's in the Lord's hands.

I'll never forgive myself if she dies.

I don't think she's gonna die.

Yellow Robe wanted to kill me,

and I knew he would at the first opportunity,

so my best chance of staying alive

was to keep Bright Star friendly toward me,

or to get a horse and get away.

MAJOR ADAMS: His chance came sooner than Horse expected.

He was out after small game

with his good friend Little Hunter,

one of the few pleasures allowed him

since his showdown with Yellow Robe.

A Sioux! I saw him!

No.

The Sioux is a Crow enemy, not yours.

Any enemy of yours, Little Hunter, is an enemy of mine.

You wait here.

McCullough and I knew how he must have felt

at the prospect of facing a Sioux,

but he knew he had to.

All his plans, all his dreams,

might work now.

He told us the Sioux was as frightened as he was.

At least he was startled to see a white man

facing him with a bow and arrow...

Startled enough to spoil his aim.

You have no coup stick.

You must touch him with your bow.

It means you have scored a coup.

In camp, you will be a hero.

You have killed an enemy,

and you have much wealth now.

You have two horses.

We must go back.

There may be more of them.

Killing the Sioux moved Horse up considerably

in Crow society.

Now he was a somebody,

and Yellow Robe was no longer his enemy.

He called him brother.

But Horse found that instead of getting a chance to escape,

he was given the hand of Bright Star in marriage.

Horse does not have love in his heart for Bright Star?

I'm your husband.

Only because Yellow Robe wanted it so.

Yellow Robe and I.

What Yellow Robe and you want, I want too.

Horse still thinks of the girl in the camp of the Bostons?

I'm sorry, Bright Star, I guess I do.

When her father refused you,

what did she do?

Well, I never talked to her after that.

She wouldn't see me.

She let you go?

But if she had love in her heart,

she would not have done this.

Bright Star will let you go,

but only if you want to go.

I am your wife.

Forever, if you will have me.

I'm your husband,

not because Yellow Robe wants it,

but because I want it, now and forever.

A year passed, and now that he was Bright Star's husband,

Horse was no longer a slave.

He was anybody's equal in camp.

He had five horses now, went hunting with the men,

and even sat in on the braves' councils,

but he still thought of getting away.

Only this time, it wouldn't be escape.

He'd take Bright Star with him.

It's time, my brother, for me to return to my people.

Since you're the head of the family,

I cannot go without your permission.

What of Bright Star? She'll go with me.

She wishes to leave her home?

She wants to go where I go.

I'm hoping to find a trading post somewhere on the way,

and we'll settle there for a while

until she gets used to the ways of my people.

My brother makes a mistake,

but Yellow Robe will not stand in his way.

Horse.

You will need furs for trading.

I have many.

You will take what you want.

My brother is kind.

Goodbye, Little Hunter. You've been a good friend.

I'll miss you. Horse will not be back?

Perhaps one day when you're sitting on the braves' council

and riding with the hunters.

That day is too far.

I have much fear.

Don't be afraid. These are my people. They won't hurt you.

What can I do for you?

I've got some furs outside I'd like to trade.

I'll need some supplies.

Which way are you heading?

Nowhere.

I'm hoping to settle down here, for a while, at least.

You and, uh, the woman?

My wife and I.

Let's see the furs.

I still have fear.

I was afraid the first day I came to your camp too, remember?

Hey, these furs are pretty good.

Say, Ben, how much you gonna give him for the squaw?

Hope you ain't figuring on settling around here, mister.

I am.

Why?

Got no room around here for squaw men.

You'll take that back.

Who's gonna make me? Not any Crow-lover, that's for certain!

All right, now, what about the furs?

They're all yours, mister. We can't do any business.

Now, take it easy, son.

It won't do any good to slug me.

We still can't do any business.

You can say it plainer than that.

You just don't want us here.

Look, I ain't speakin' for myself,

but what just happened could happen all the time,

and I don't think you or your woman

would like it.

I'm taking you home, Bright Star.

So after all my dreams of escape,

here I was, heading back to the Crow camp.

Well, sometimes it takes a man time

to find out where his home really is.

Well, she's still asleep,

but her breathing sounds a little easier.

That's good, Charlie. Just let her rest.

That's the best medicine I know of.

Yes, sir.

How'd you make out after you got back to the Crow?

Fine.

The world outside

no longer meant what it once did.

It seemed as though he was content now.

He was a person with the Crow.

He was a Crow.

Their home was his home, and Horse was a proud name.

Yellow Robe was right. Horse made a mistake.

It is good to have a brother again.

And now that he was their equal,

Yellow Robe asked him

to ride beside him in battle.

Horse.

You must not go to battle.

You forget the Crow law, Bright Star.

Yellow Robe has requested it,

and when the head of a family makes a request, it must be obeyed.

But... in a few moons,

you too will be the head of a family.

You want the child to think his father's a brave man, don't you?

I am not thinking now of the child.

I think of you.

Then hold good thoughts for me while I'm gone.

Yellow Robe.

No. No, it is no use.

Yellow Robe's time has come.

I have no son.

Now Horse will be head of family.

Yellow Robe will not die.

If child of Horse and Bright Star is boy...

let him be named for me.

Then Yellow Robe will live on.

Several moons passed

after Yellow Robe had been killed in battle,

and now the time had come for Bright Star

and Horse's child to be born.

Horse.

What is it, Bright Star?

I have fear again.

This time, a great fear.

Don't fear.

Old Mother, it's time to get the other squaws to help.

The long vigil began.

The squaws did what they could to ease Bright Star's pain.

There wasn't much Horse could do,

nothing but sit outside the teepee and wait,

counting the minutes,

and each one of them an eternity.

And then the old woman came out and told Horse

that his son was dead.

It is a boy.

It's a boy.

He will be called Yellow Robe,

and you will be proud of him.

We will be proud of him.

Bright Star will not be here,

but he will be with you, and I will know that.

Don't say that.

You will get well. You have many years.

I am grateful for...

for what we have had.

Every moment.

Please, don't talk.

You must rest.

Bright Star...

must say goodbye.

No, no. Never goodbye.

He held her in his arms all night.

She died the next morning.

His little Bright Star was dimmed forever.

For Horse, the hardest part was yet to come,

and that was saying the last goodbye.

According to Crow ritual,

they placed her small body on a scaffolding

to be left to their gods.

For the others, death was a thing that was meant to be,

but for Horse, something dear,

something he wanted and needed was taken from him,

and once again, he was left with another scar

in his battle with life.

Because he wept for Bright Star,

he was shunned by the Crow braves.

They never mourned,

and so Horse found out he wasn't really a Crow.

He was no one again.

The time of mourning is over.

Horse must find a new wife.

The tribe must go on,

and there are many who wish to be the wife of Horse.

Leave me alone.

I'm sorry, Old Mother.

I can't take a new wife.

There's no room in my heart.

You do not talk like a Crow.

I guess I'm not a Crow.

I never can be.

I must go back to Boston...

to my own people.

I will not see my friend again?

I'm afraid not, Little Hunter,

but my thoughts will be with you.

And mine will be in the camp of the Bostons, with my friend Horse.

Among other things, he'd learned from the Crow

that it was wise to keep what they called a private bank

for personal belongings.

Each man had his own,

and in his bank, he still had his furs and a rifle.

Now he could use them.

As he turned to go,

he knew that there was one thing he had to do,

for the lingering memory of his little Bright Star

was still deep within him.

I went back to the burial ground

to say a last goodbye to Bright Star.

That's where the old woman had come to die,

because she had no one.

But I told her she had someone. She had a son.

By the looks of it, you haven't lost your old lady either.

So now you're going back to the Crow, is that it?

Yep.

She's the only mother I ever had.

Well, thanks for everything.

I certainly enjoyed talking to you. It's been a long time.

I suppose you know what you're doing, mister,

but I want to tell you one thing...

It makes me proud to shake your hand. Good luck to you.

Thank you, sir.

Come on, we'll give you a hand.

Good luck to you. Thanks.

Hey, you never did tell us

what your real name was.

Yes, I did. It's Horse.

I guess that's what he wanted.

How's that?

To be somebody. To make a name for himself.

Yep.