All language subtitles for 1MSW01E22 Funeral At Fifty Mile

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

- It wasn't the hanging that killed him. - A blow on the head.

Gotcha!

I'll read you your rights on the way back into town.

- There is no will. - What did Mestin have on my dad?

Whatever it was, it must've been juicy.

You are not real welcome around here.

Ranchers used to hang a dead wolf on a fence as a warning to other thieving varmints.

I do believe I'm making someone nervous.

And as we will all miss him,

his loss will be most deeply felt by his beloved daughter, Mary...

and her husband-to-be, Art Merrick,

by Jack’s younger brother, Timothy Carver,

and his close and inseparable friends...

Doc Wallace, Sam Breen, and Bill Carmody.

And now we commit the body of our friend, John Carver, to the earth.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.

Blessed be the name of the Lord. Amen.

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Hey, what do you say, buddy boy?

You ain't comin' after me with that rifle, are you, Carmody?

It'd be kind of futile. It's loaded with blanks.

You don't know my wife, do you, Bill? Sally, this is Bill Carmody.

I reckon he's the nearest thing to a business tycoon they got down here in Fifty-Mile.

It's real nice meeting you, Bill. My pleasure, ma'am.

Carl, don't figure on making this a long visit.

You are not real welcome around here.

I wouldn't pay much mind to him, baby doll.

Old Bill's always had kind of a weird sense of humor, you know what I mean?

Sounded dead serious to me.

I can't understand Carl Mestin just showing up like that.

Dad never did business with him.

Uncle Tim can't stand the sight of him.

Forget Mestin, honey. Don't get yourself riled up.

I'm gonna miss him so much.

Aw, me too, babe.

He was one hell of a man.

I remember when you were born, Mary,

hearing that your mother had died in childbirth.

We were so worried, wondering how Jack was going to manage all alone.

Well, he did fine, just fine.

He certainly did.

There you are. Guaranteed to cure what ails.

Well, there's nothing ailing me but a touch of jet lag.

However......

I haven't had dandelion wine in ages.

You know, you can prescribe for me any day, Dr. Wallace.

Dr. Wallace? My.

Don't you know that any time there's only one doctor within a 200-mile radius...

everybody calls him "Doc"?

All right, Doc. As long as you call me Jessica.

All right. Hey, Tim.

Tim, what do you see out there? Did you lose something there?

No. The storm coming in, it's gonna be a mean one, Doc.

Looks like it hit over at my place already.

Art Merrick was telling me you have the ranch next door. Yes, ma'am.

Jack's and my place used to be one spread.

When our pa died, it was split right down the middle.

I think it's right overhead.

Excuse me, I better go and phone over there.

Make sure my hands got the place battened down good.

Doc. That gentleman over there, the peace officer...

isn't he a little overdressed for the occasion? That's Ed Potts.

You know, I never could prove it,

but I've always said that he wears that gun and that badge to bed.

He saw you looking at him.

Now if you want a friend for life, don't call him "Sheriff."

- Call him "Marshal." - Marshal.

Hi, Doc.

You must be that mystery writer lady from back east. Guilty as charged, Marshal.

I read one of them. Not up there with Mickey Spillane...

but darn good for a woman.

Yes, we all struggle under Mickey's shadow, I suppose.

Now, I gotta admit. Mysteries ain't really my thing.

Give me a good old rip-roarin' Western any time.

You know, like the Coop in High Noon.

I notice you wear your, holster tied down. For quick draw?

Yep. I practice for at least a half an hour every day.

Care to see a demonstration? Thank you, but I'll take your word for it.

I don't suppose you've ever actually had to draw on anyone?

Not so far.

But when the time comes,

I'm ready for 'em to make my day.

I'm sure you are.

All right. Well, take care of it.

Uncle Tim, is everything all right at your place? Yeah, so far.

Listen, Mary, since I got you and Sam here together...

Come on. You're not putting me to work today.

No, no. I'm just talking about what you and Mary probably know already, about the will.

About my brother promising the ranch would be sold to me after he was gone.

Dad told you that? That's news to me.

Well, your dad and I, we wanted to make things as easy for you as we could.

What's that got to do with you buying the place?

Well, I told him I'd give you a price...

that'd make you comfortable for the rest of your life.

Is that right, Sam?

Well, I don't doubt you and Jack discussed it, Tim,

but the fact is, there is no will.

- What? - Jack did not finalize one...

in spite of a lot of urging by me.

Come on now, Sam. Simmer down.

I mean, it's obvious that Mary will inherit.

Being his only child, you are of course his only heir.

It's just gonna take a little longer to run it through probate, that's all.

Then I guess there's no hurry on your offer, Uncle Tim.

Let me discuss it with Art and see what he thinks about selling.

What the blazes is that?

No.

Mr. Mestin, you have a bad habit of showing up where you don't belong.

Whoa, you better listen to me, missy. No, you listen to me.

I think that your visit to my father at the hospital...

probably shortened what little time he had left.

Well, you can't blame a fella for visiting an old friend, can you? You're not a friend of mine.

I don't want you in my house. You got a problem.

- Miss Carver, this house ain't yours no more. - What?

Yeah, I got your daddy's last will and testament right in here, ma'am.

- Well, that's not possible. - You better believe it is, Sam.

You mind if I have a look at it as the family lawyer?

You can look at it all you want. It's just a copy.

The lady gets enough to start over somewhere,

but this land, the cattle, and this house, it all comes to me, buddy boy.

You're a liar, Mr. Mestin.

You're Merrick, right? The foreman?

I heard how you got engaged to Jack’s daughter here.

Figured you'd marry yourself a nice little piece of property, did you?

Hold it, hold it, hold it. That's enough. That's enough now.

Now, let's not stir things up any more than they are already.

Come on, let's take it easy. Come on. Come on now.

Come on, Carl. Come on, let's have a drink.

That's the way.

Why are they treating him like that, Uncle Tim and the others?

Like they were afraid of him.

Well, whatever's going on, it certainly broke up the gathering.

Hey, sorry I blew up like that.

I'm almost sorry Sam Breen stopped you. Yeah, well, next time, nobody's gonna stop me.

Take it easy with Mestin, Art.

Starting a fight's only gonna buy you trouble.

Mary, you know how sorry I am about your dad.

Astounding, Mr. Mestin. Wyoming is certainly a lot different from Maine.

Ma'am? Well, back east, fathers don't usually disinherit their only daughters.

I can't imagine Jack doing such a thing.

Yeah, well, I reckon it has something to do with gratitude...

on account of how I saved his life during the war...

You know, Korea. Inchon landing.

Really?

Then you must know my husband, Tom, Tom Fletcher.

He was Jack's commanding officer.

Fletcher? Yeah, sure. Yeah, Lieutenant Fletcher.

- He's quite a guy. He's a good guy. -

I've been neglecting my wife.

Hello, Art. How's Mary?

She's okay. She's asleep.

The pills Doc gave her did the trick.

Boy, she sure was upset. Well, small wonder.

I mean, besides his other dubious charms, Mr. Mestin has atrocious timing.

I still don't believe that Jack would leave the ranch to anybody but Mary.

Well, Mr. Breen seems to think that the will is genuine.

Come on, Art. We're gonna help you get the place battened down.

Yeah, that storm's carrying gale-force winds.

Sloppy Carl, never could drink with the grown-ups.

Hey, hey, hey. Don't start with that stuff.

'Cause I ain't getting in no drinking contest with you today, baby doll.

Sure, 'cause I beat you at everything.

Drinking, poker, arm wrestling, especially arm wrestling.

Why don't you just shut your mouth, Sally?

Just 'cause I let you win last couple of times.

What? You let me win? I whipped your tail, buster.

And I got 500 says I could do it again, right here and now.

- You kidding me? - What's the matter, Carl?

Too cheap or too chicken or both?

Gotcha!

500, please.

Next time, I'm gonna twist your arm right out of its socket.

I can help. Haymow doors still need bracing in the west wind? Wouldn't hurt, Mestin.

Carl.

Carl, you cheap welsher! You shorted me 50 bucks!

I'm glad you came along, Jesús.

Listen, come in for a cup of coffee after you get that bailing wire unloaded, all right?

Sounds good. Gracias.

Thank you. That's good. Half a cup.

Okay. Thank you, Emma.

Doc, here, have some coffee. Yes, please.

I was starting to get worried about you, Art. You have trouble out there at the water tank?

I got the pickup stuck in the mud coming back.

I spent two hours digging out, and then I gave up and started walking.

Jesús came along and gave me a lift the last half mile or so.

You must be chilled to the bone. Emma's made some wonderful hot soup,

and there's coffee and sandwiches. I'll take all you got just as soon as I run up and check on Mary, okay?

Senor Merrick! Senor Merrick! Senor Merrick!

Senor Merrick, come see! Senor Merrick! Senor Merrick!

- Come see, Senor Merrick! - Slow down, Jesús.

- What's happened, Jesús? What's wrong? - In the barn. Come see. In the barn.

Hey, what's going on?

Where's Carl, anyway?

God. Carl.

All right.

Couldn't you at least have taken him down from there?

I'm afraid that was my doing, Marshal. Thank you, Doc.

I thought you'd like to see everything undisturbed.

Yeah, sure.

Okay, I've seen it.

Let's get it down. Where's his wife?

Laying down in the camper. She took it pretty hard.

Tell me, Doc. Has the marshal investigated a murder case before?

Not as far as I know, but there haven't been any murders in this county for five years.

Ed's only been the sheriff for three years.

How did he do it anyhow? You are absolutely right, Marshal.

I mean, there's nothing he could stand on or jump off.

I mean, it couldn't be suicide. It has to be murder.

Right. Has to be.

Although it does seem that the killer did try to pull...

that very large bale of hay over there closer to the body...

probably to suggest suicide.

Yeah. Either he was frightened off, or maybe he just changed his mind.

Yeah, I can see that.

I didn't like the look of that blood smear above his left ear...

as if he'd been hit with a blunt object before he was hung.

You have sharp eyes, Jessica. He was hit by something.

Yeah. Well, I noticed the freshly splintered wood in the beam...

where the rope was hanging over.

I'm sure the sheriff guessed that it means...

that the rope was supporting Mestin's weight...

when it was being pulled over the beam.

Took the words right out of my mouth.

Doc, would you have any idea how long he'd been dead?

I'd say four, maybe five hours.

Well, that would put the time of the murder at...

Just about 3:00.

All right, you can all go. I want you to hang around.

I'm gonna have to talk with everybody that was here. Stay available.

I'll be along directly. I wanna do a little more examining of the body.

Mary, when Mr. Mestin showed up at the ranch today,

you said something about his having visited your father.

You also said how his visit shortened Jack's life. I didn't mean that. Not really.

Well, I don't know.

I was there on my daily visit, and there was Mestin coming out of Dad's room.

Didn't say a word to me, just looked so smug.

And Jack offered no explanation?

He was so upset he couldn't even talk.

He never was the same after that.

And two days later, he died.

You know, the witnessing signatures on the will were by nurses.

Mestin probably arrived at the hospital with the will already drafted...

and somehow pressured your dad into signing it. Pressured? How?

Well, that's what we've got to find out.

He told me some cock-and-bull story about...

Having saved Jack's life during the war, not true, of course.

I tripped him up with a question about knowing my husband, Frank.

Believe me, he didn't. No.

Whatever made your dad sign that will, it was not gratitude.

It was more likely blackmail. My dad wouldn't give in to blackmail.

Here you are. The sheriff would like us all together for some questions.

Bill, is there something that Carl Mestin might have been holding over Dad?

Like what? I don't know.

Sorry, the fact is, I didn't know Mestin real well.

But weren't you involved in some kind of deal with him a while back?

Business, just business.

Mestin talked me into buying a whole lot of grain, so we could open a local feed yard.

And it didn't work out? After I bought the grain,

Mestin reneged on his end of it and left me holding the bag.

I, I lost my shirt, I don't mind telling you.

But why would you have anything to do with Mestin anyway?

All the times I heard his name mentioned around here by Dad or Uncle Tim...

it was obvious they hated the man.

I just didn't have much choice.

Come on. We'd better get inside.

Doc's still out in the barn.

Where's Art Merrick?

He and Jesús went to pull Art's pickup out of the mud.

Be back in a while.

- I don't see Mrs. Mestin. - She came in with some wet clothes...

and went to the laundry room to dry them.

That's wonderful. Can't the rhinestone cowgirl wait a decent amount of time...

till she starts moving in? Watch your mouth, Orphan Annie.

If you wanna know, I wish I'd never seen this stinking ranch or anybody on it.

What about it, Sheriff? One of these solid citizens murdered my husband.

So why haven't you done something about it?

I'm planning on doing something just as soon as you simmer down.

Now... where were we?

I believe that was the very question you were going to ask.

Where were we around 3:00?

Right. Now, who wants to start?

Well, that was about the time the storm hit.

We all went outside to batten things down.

I went over by the stables with Bill here.

Yeah, Sheriff. We were moving horses out of the corral into the stable.

Mr. Breen, where were you?

I was at the stable too. There was some feed stacked up in the front,

and I moved it inside to keep it dry.

Anybody with you? Well, Tim and Bill here brought the horses in right behind me.

- Yeah, we saw you there. - What about Doc?

Well, Doc was over at the other side of the compound.

- He was closing up the garage building. - That's where I was, all right.

So all four of you can account for one another...

during the time that Mr. Mestin was hanged?

- Except it wasn't the hanging that killed him. - A blow on the head?

It left a deep, depressed skull fracture. It must've been instantly fatal.

He was already dead when the killer strung him up.

That's sick. Hanging a dead man.

In the old days, Ms. Mestin,

ranchers used to hang a dead wolf or a coyote on a fence...

as a warning to other thieving varmints.

So? What's the point?

So, maybe that's what the killer did with Carl...

when he didn't have a barbwire fence handy.

Sounds like you didn't think a whole lot of Mestin, Carver.

No, Potts, I didn't.

He not only poisoned my brother's last hours on this earth,

he killed my dream of putting the Carver ranch back together...

like it was when Jack and I were boys.

Ms. Mestin already turned down the best offer I can make.

You call that an offer?

Okay, okay. Let's get back to 3:00 p.m. Mary?

Where was I?

Doc gave me some sleeping pills after you and the others left, Sheriff.

I was upstairs sleeping until Jesús found the body.

I was cleaning up. Never left the house.

Me? I was in the R.V. Sleeping it off.

I was in my room getting rid of jet lag.

Well, ladies, it seems that we're the only ones who can't corroborate our alibis.

Awful lot of sleeping going on.

Don't matter. No woman could've done in Mestin anyhow. Not the way he got it.

- I'm not sure that that's true. - It works for me.

The way I see it, everybody's accounted for except Art Merrick.

Art wasn't anywhere near this place.

He went over to check the dam at that water impound over by the buttes.

He got stuck in the mud on the way back.

Look, is it all right if me and the boys get out of here?

- Yeah, we got some stuff to take care of. - Fine with me.

You want me to stay around till Art comes back?

That's okay, Tim. I know you wanna see what the storm did to your place.

Now, where'd you say I could find Art?

Really, Sheriff.

You don't seriously think that Art is the murderer?

I thought you was smarter than that, Ms. Fletcher.

There isn't anybody else.

Process of elimination.

- Thanks, Jesús. See you manana. - Hasta manana.

What's going on here? There's solid ground on either side of this mudhole, Art.

You could've detoured around it easy.

Hey, Ed. It was raining so hard, I didn't see the hole till I was in it.

What are you saying... I got myself stuck on purpose?

- That's what I'm saying, cowboy. - Ed, will you listen to reason?

Back on off, easy like, Mary. No.

Damn it, Ed. Stop playing John Wayne and tell me what the hell's going on here.

There was trouble between you and Mestin out at the house today.

- So what? - So later,

when Mestin went out to the barn, you drove off,

stopped the pickup as soon as it was out of sight of the buildings,

snuck back on foot, offed him...

and then drove on out here to get bogged down in the mud for an alibi.

Smart, but not smart enough.

You're out of your mind, Ed. Art.

I'll be all right, honey.

I'll read you your rights on the way back into town.

Night, Mary.

I'm telling you, Potts. You're making a big mistake,

not to mention violating his civil rights. Aw, don't give me your lawyer talk.

I got him darn near red-handed.

Sheriff, I was hoping with the clear light of day and a little applied logic...

you might change your mind. Logic?

What logic? Well, for one thing,

Mestin was struck on the back of the head on the left side,

which would indicate a left-handed killer.

- But Art is right-handed. - There. You see, Ed? Listen to her.

And of course there's the motive. What motive?

Well, that's just the thing. Mr. Merrick doesn't have one.

Sure, he does.

To get the ranch back for Mary and for himself when he marries her.

But Sally stands to inherit now as Mestin's widow.

Killing Carl didn't do anyone any good, with the possible exception of Sally.

I mean, she could get it all...

not just her widow's share of the community property.

She's right on the money, Ed.

Now, why don't you quit being so blamed mulish and admit you screwed up?

You people really know how to gang up on a fella, you know it?

If it wasn't 9:40 in the morning, I'd say he just rode off into the sunset.

He's a bonehead all right.

But he will have to turn Art loose as soon as I get bail.

And that's already in the works up at the county seat.

Good, Sam. That was fast work.

When they come up for air, you might tell Mary I had a little talk with the boys.

We all think it would be wise if we stayed close by her till all this is settled.

So I'll see you out there at the ranch later this afternoon.

Well, I know that will mean a lot to her.

See you then.

Art. Jessica, Art was just saying...

that he overheard the sheriff getting a call from the coroner.

About Mestin's autopsy? Yeah, it seemed to shake him up.

I mean, Ed kept repeating everything that the coroner was telling him.

That Mestin died on account of being hanged.

And that the hit on the head didn't come till afterwards.

That's strange. I wonder why Doc Wallace was so sure it happened the other way around.

Maybe you should ask him. His place is just down the street.

Yeah, I believe I will. I'll be right back.

Okay, bye-bye.

Well, morning. I'm Alice.

I expect you're Ms. Fletcher.

Hello, Alice. You're right. I am Jessica Fletcher.

What was your first clue? Well, besides being Doc's nurse, housekeeper and Lord knows what all,

I'm the local telephone operator.

Not much goes on around Fifty-Mile I don't know about, right off.

Speaking of Doc, is he in?

No. He's out on a house call. He'll be back in an hour.

Dear. I'm afraid I can't wait.

Are you feeling poorly? - No, no, no.

No. I just wanted to find out if he'd made any notes about an examination he did last night.

Do you think he'd mind...

if I took a peek in his file?

Mind? Ms. Fletcher, he'd skin my hide for sure.

The only time I ever saw Doc lose his temper...

was when he caught some fella one morning snooping through his files.

Really?

He threw that man right out of the office. Hollered at him...

words that would shame Lucifer himself.

Told him if he ever breathed a word of what he found out...

it would be the last breath he ever took.

My goodness. Well,

I certainly wouldn't want to provoke that kind of reaction.

This intruder, was he a stranger in town?

Not likely. It was that awful man that got himself hanged...

out at Carver Ranch yesterday. Carl Mestin?

You ask me, a man like that was born to hang.

Don't you think so, dear? -.

Jessica, I've known Doc Wallace all my life.

There isn't a gentler, kinder man in the whole world.

What's going on, Emma? I'm taking some coffee and juice for the grieving widow in the library.

Alone? That's enough coffee and tomato juice for a small detox center.

She's been working on a heavy hangover.

Sure hate to see your phone bill next month, Miss Mary.

That woman's been at it since after breakfast, mostly long distance.

That's all I need. Forget the room service. Yes, ma'am.

Well, you're back. What's on your alleged mind, honey?

You are, ma'am. You are on my mind. You are in my hair. And you're on my nerves.

So until you have your name on a deed to this place, I want you off of my land.

You can stomp your little manure-coated feet all day, kiddo.

I'm not budging till Carl's murderer is caught.

If you don't like my company, why don't you move out?

You're gonna have to anyway sooner or later.

What was it?

What did Mestin have on my dad that made him sign that lousy will?

Carl never told me.

But whatever it was, it must've been juicy.

For sure it was real profitable.

Door-to-door delivery. That was very thoughtful.

It was the least I could do.

I dropped the murder charges. You and your logic.

It takes a strong man to admit his own mistakes, Marshal.

I still think he's my best suspect.

Ma'am, if Art didn't kill Mestin,

who do you think did?

You know...

it might be a good idea to challenge Sally Mestin to an arm-wrestling contest.

I think you'd find it illuminating.

You want to arm wrestle with little ol' me?

Jessica tells me you're pretty good.

Honey, I'm very good.

And I arm wrestle okay too.

Don't mind me, Sally. I'm just trying to analyze your technique.

Well, it's just all in the timing and the body English.

The women's North American champion is just a little bitty thing,

a lot smaller than me.

Ready when you are, babe.

Gotcha! Wanna go again?

No, thanks. Once is all I need.

You may be onto something, all right.

Never thought a woman could do in Mestin,

but she's sure strong enough, and she's left-handed to boot.

What?

What are you two pulling? - It's just a little educational exercise.

You set me up as a suspect in my own husband's murder.

You can both suck eggs!

Too bad. I think she kind of liked me.

Hello?

Anyone there?

I do believe I'm making someone nervous.

What's for breakfast? Look, folks, my cupboard's bare.

Anyway, I got tired of sitting out in that R.V. All by my lonesome.

Are you a good ranch foreman?

Maybe we could work it out that you can stay on after I take over.

Don't, Mary. Mary. Mary, don't let her get to you.

Getting to her wasn't my plan.

Thanks a heap, chiquita. - Guess what, Sally?

You have a gentleman caller.

Morning, folks.

Ms. Mestin, I have a warrant here.

I'm arresting you on suspicion of murdering your husband.

Ed, I might have to kiss you.

You have to be kidding, a warrant?

Yes, ma'am. You wanna come along now?

Hey, you're crazy. I did not kill Carl.

How about one of them, Uncle Tim or Doc or the other two?

I'll tell you something. I don't know how or why,

but Carl knew them all from a long time ago.

Just a moment, you're saying whatever Carl held over Jack Carver,

it had to do with the others too?

That's right. So what if they all alibi each other? Thick as they are.

Lying to protect one of them is no big deal.

You lay a hand on me, cowboy, I'll bust your face.

Sally, don't you think you'd better play your trump card...

before you wind up on trial for murder? I don't know what you're talking about.

I think you do.

Your only motive for killing Carl is supposedly to get sole ownership of this ranch as his widow, right, Marshal?

That's how it stacks up.

But she's not his widow. Isn't that true, Sally?

You and Carl were never married.

You know that for a fact, Jessica? After we got home yesterday,

I got time and charges on all those phone calls Sally made while we were gone.

You don't miss one lousy trick, do you?

The calls you made were to some quickie wedding chapels in Nevada.

I suspect you were looking for one willing to sell you a forged marriage certificate so you could inherit.

You must have succeeded, too, which accounts for your suddenly being so confident you'd get this ranch.

You are gonna have a tough time proving that.

But there is proof, and it's under your wedding ring.

When you took off your bracelets and the ring before arm wrestling,

there were white lines under the bracelet, but not under the ring.

The skin under the ring is as tanned dark as the rest of your hand,

which means the ring was a prop,

put on just before you and Carl came here, so you could pass off as his wife.

He said folks around here are old-fashioned.

Acting married, we wouldn't make waves.

He said he'd be making enough waves already.

Well, he sure got that right.

Well, Sheriff, if I'm not under arrest, I'd like to leave.

There's a couple of nice spots where you can park the R.V. Next to town.

I wouldn't go any further than that for now.

Okay. I'll admit it.

I'm back to the starting gate.

Who did kill Mestin?

Actually, I think I can give you a fairly accurate description of the murderer.

He's a tall, strong, ambidextrous man,

who I expect had a number of reasons to hate Carl Mestin,

but only one reason strong enough to kill him.

Yeah, well, there ain't anybody like that around here.

Yes, I know.

I can't say I'm sorry to wave good-bye to her.

I just hope she's off Carver Ranch before she puts that thing in a ditch.

You know, in a funny kind of way, I feel sorry for her.

Hey, listen, honey. Now's a good time to run out and get my pickup.

That's right. It's still out there where you got stuck. Do you wanna come?

No. No, you two run along.

I'm so darn glad you're here.

So am I. So am I, Mary.

You're left-handed, Doc. I noticed that before.

Very left-handed. Ambidextrous, I ain't.

Tell me. How did you come by that little gem of yours?

The blow to Carl's head was struck left-handed...

and after he'd died from the hanging... you were wrong about that.

Anyway, last night, someone decorated my bedroom window...

with a hangman's noose tied by a right-handed man.

You see? Ambidextrous.

A hangman's noose? I'll be damned.

Ambidextrous and worried.

Worried enough to try to frighten me away from here...

before I identify the murderer.

What murderer?

Who is this tall, strong, ambidextrous killer?

Do you really know what you're saying?

Yes, I'm afraid I do.

Well, I think I'll take a little walk.

Go down to the barn, maybe look around a bit.

You shouldn't meddle in something you don't understand.

Now someone can get hurt bad.

You're not talking about me, are you, Doc? It's Mary.

Mary could be so badly hurt.

Well, then, will you just drop it? Right now, please.

Carl Mestin was killed to protect Mary from something.

A secret, Doc? A terrible secret...

that her father considered worse than the loss of her birthright?

I mean, can any big secret be that terrible?

Well, one could. Now, will you just drop it, please?

So here you are, Uncle Tim, Doc,

Sam and Bill.

Four men who added up to one tall, strong, ambidextrous killer.

You did it together, and you alibied each other.

That did throw me off till I realized what it really meant.

- Jessica, if you care anything for Mary. - Of course I do, Tim.

Doc, what was it that Mestin got out of your file? You knew about that?

I know three of you had reasons to hate Mestin.

Tim, because he was taking this ranch.

And you, Bill, because he coerced you into a bad business deal. And Doc...

because Carl learned something he shouldn't have in your files.

Was that the secret you're hiding from Mary?

That was part of it, a big part.

What about you, Sam?

Did you have some reason to hate Carl that I didn't find out?

Just knowing Carl was reason enough.

We all know him too damn well.

Who was Carl Mestin, anyway?

I realized he was familiar with this place.

He even knew that that haymow door needs a bracing in the wind.

So he must've worked here at one time,

but before Mary was old enough to remember.

All right, you might as well know the whole ungodly truth.

Carl... that's not his real name, by the way...

was a randy, young ranch hand here.

He tried every way he knew to seduce Jack’s wife.

Ruth, her name was.

She was just a kid, young, shy.

One day, he found her alone, he tried to smooth-talk on her again,

- and when she said no... - He raped her.

It was just pure animal lust.

She was battered all over when I examined her later. And then he ran,

with the four of us and Jack hot on his trail.

Well, we caught up with him. We strung him up.

We all wanted to see him die after what he'd done to Ruth.

All but Jack. He said, "No."

He talked the rest of us out of lynching. Said we'd turn him over to the law instead.

Only he escaped. Got clean away.

And in the meantime, Ruth was pregnant with Mary, the child of that rape.

Dear Lord.

Her sanity was already edgy.

I figured that it would be better for her to bear her child,

thinking as she wanted to that...

Well, she died in childbirth.

My brother Jack, he raised that child like it was his own.

He loved her. He doted on her. His one great fear was that...

Mary would find out the truth about her birth.

And Carl, how did he find out about Mary?

As near as we can figure it,

he changed his name, stayed around these parts.

He kept out of our sight of course, read about the birth in the paper...

realized it was exactly nine months since the rape and guessed the rest of it.

But he needed a clincher.

So when he came back here with his new name...

and his threats of blackmail to keep us under his thumb,

he broke into my files.

Mary's file? No. No, Jack's. Jack was sterile.

He could never father a child of his own.

It was right there, the undeniable proof...

that Mary was Carl's child, not Jack’s.

And everything you did after that was to keep Mary from finding out?

Yeah.

The day of the funeral,

we were all out here in the storm securing the place.

We saw this stray horse run in here where Carl was working.

And the idea must have hit us all at once.

All those years ago when we'd put him on a horse to lynch him.

Yeah. It seemed like maybe divine providence was daring us to do it again.

We told ourselves we only wanted to scare him.

Get him to quit his claim to the ranch.

He was arrogant, cocky.

He just sat there on that horse laughing at us.

Saying we didn't have the guts.

And then there was this enormous lightning flash.

The horse reared. It bolted. Carl's neck was broke.

It was as if God had meant it to be.

After that, it was obvious that one man could not have lynched him.

So... we took him down, and...

I hit him.

'Cause I knew where and how hard.

Then we strung him back up and went back to the house.

We never figured that Art would be blamed.

We'd have stepped in if you hadn't cleared him.

So what happens next?

Am I now a threat because I know the secret?

Jessica, we all promised each other Mary would never find out.

But Carl died. Maybe not murder...

but he's dead because of what you all did.

All right.

We'll go to the sheriff, tell him what happened, stand trial.

I don't know what a jury will say.

We'll even go to jail if it comes to that.

But there's no way on God's green earth Mary will ever know the reason why,

not from any of us.

Nor from me, Sam. She's been hurt enough already.