Original subtitles

What's going on here?

What's going on here?

Easy, boys, easy.

Keever! Frenchie!

Hold it! Both of you. Ah, leave them be, Marshal.

The judge is... is right. This is a matter of honor.

Honor? You don't even know the meaning of the word.

You French...

That's enough!

All right. Forget the whole thing now, both of you.

I'm willing, but I'm not so sure about him.

And don't you be, either.

Oh, Frenchie's okay. He doesn't seem like the kind to carry a grudge.

Yeah? He killed a man once.

And I don't think it was out of love.

Howdy, folks. I'm the Old Ranger.

In Central California, near Sacramento,

is a town called Placerville.

During the gold mining days, it was known as Hangtown.

It became well known because they used hanging

as a cure for every crime in the book.

But Placerville is also famous for a very special dish,

a recipe with a dash of murder to this day known as...

Let her go.

All we need's a new crossbeam,

and we're in business again.

You've worn this one out.

What we need's a whole new gallows.

Take it up the next citizens' meeting.

Can't let a little lumber hold up justice.

Is that what you dispense at those kangaroo courts of yours?

Marshal!

I think something's happened to my husband. Something terrible.

Easy now. What makes you think that, Ella?

Please, just come with me.

Sometimes he works late, but last night he didn't come home at all.

So I got up early this morning and I came down here and I found this.

His hat. Blasting powder.

That keg was open kind of careless-like.

Blood.

You ask me, Stan caught somebody stealing powder

and got himself shot for it.

Where's the body? And why would a thief take time to carry it away?

Who knows why?

I don't know why, but I think I know how.

A wheelbarrow. Wheelbarrow?

You see that track? Be made by a single wheel. Wheelbarrow.

Maybe you're right.

Goes out the side door.

Well, it's got to lead somewhere.

Please stay here, Ella.

I'm sorry, Ella, but the track did lead somewhere.

To the abandoned mineshaft north of town.

You found Stan in there?

No. The shaft was filled with tons of rocks.

That's what they used the blasting powder for. Pssht!

Hide the evidence.

Ella.

Who would want to kill him?

Why, don't be an idiot, Marshal. Paul Duval, of course.

Duval? Sure.

Stan give the Frenchman a beating yesterday, didn't he?

Must have caught him cheating on the books or something.

No. That fight was because of me.

Duval kept annoying me. I finally had to tell Stan.

Well, there it is.

We ought to send him back where he come from.

In a wooden box, maybe.

Now, hold on, Judge.

I grant you the evidence points to the Frenchman.

But we're talking about murder and we haven't found the body yet.

Well, it'd take weeks to dig him out.

Besides, that whole mine's a trap.

Now, are you willing to risk the lives of men digging up a buried body

just to bury it again?

Not me. You better take him in, Marshal,

or there'll be lots worse happening to him.

Ah, what a way to start the new day.

Café au lait, to remind me of my home in France.

Madame Alton, your skill in the kitchen is matched

only by the charm of your beautiful daughter.

One is at a loss to decide which one is the most beautiful,

the mother or the daughter. So...

Mr. Duval, you're never at a loss when it comes to saying nice things to ladies.

Or doing them.

Oh, Marshal Corey, Monsieur Mears.

You must join me, please.

You're gonna join us, Frenchie. I'll handle this.

Do you have a gun?

Of course. My matched dueling pistols.

Oh, but I never carry them with me.

Where you hiding them?

Hiding? Uh, they're in the case in my room, as always.

Let's take a look.

But I... Let's go.

Ah. Pretty fancy.

They've been in my family for many years.

Still like new, huh?

Of course, they... they are never used.

This one was.

Not too long ago, either.

Maybe last night?

But I... I don't understand.

Ann, what do they mean?

I don't know myself.

What do you mean?

I'm afraid, Ann, I'm going to have to put him under arrest.

For the murder of Stan Keever.

Paul,

what Ella said about... about you trying to make love to her,

it wasn't true, was it?

It's ridiculous. It's just as crazy as saying that I killed Keever.

Who did?

I'm afraid we'll never know.

Judge Mears seems to go very fast.

If we just had a little bit more time, I'd find out myself.

How? I don't know, but I'd try.

Afraid that's all for tonight, Ann.

Isn't there any chance of a postponement?

Still set for high noon.

May I see him once more?

In the morning.

You can bring him his breakfast.

As you know, it's customary for a man facing the gallows

to get anything he wants for his last meal.

That's very thoughtful.

Anything?

It ain't much, considering a man's about to die.

Anything at all?

Yeah. Ham, steak.

Venison. Even champagne.

Is that your promise? That's my promise.

Even if I order a dish made with eggs that cost one dollar each?

Price don't matter.

Your charming mother is such an excellent chef.

I'm sure she could prepare anything I order.

If she had the right ingredients.

She has oysters, no?

Oysters in Hangtown? Mm.

How about some nice, fresh mountain trout, huh?

Never. The recipe calls for oysters, not trout.

Just what is this dish?

Mm. It's a... It's a delicacy

that comes from La Belle France.

Well, it's only known in my native Provence.

One must combine, very artfully,

the eggs and the bacon, very finely diced,

and potatoes, which must be cubed.

And, well, of course, truffles.

What's a truffle?

Mushrooms will do.

And those oysters, of course?

But of course. Without them, the dish is nothing.

Just what do you call this concoction?

Oh, the name is, uh...

is, um, very difficult to translate.

Not to mention the difficulty of getting those oysters.

Well, you could have them brought from San Francisco.

It would only take a couple of days.

But at noon tomorrow he...

You'll have to postpone it, Marshal.

You said Paul could have anything he wanted. Anything.

It was a promise.

It was.

Yes. I guess it was a promise.

That's the way it's gonna be.

Cal. Yeah?

I guess we can let the boys get a good night's rest.

Not if we want to get this finished by noon.

Well, there's no hurry. We've had a postponement.

On whose orders?

Mine.

Keep right at it, men.

Court passed a sentence, set a time for the hanging.

Tomorrow it is.

At noon.

Thank you, Mother.

You've really made Paul a lovely meal.

For your sake, I'm glad it's not his last.

There isn't going to be any "last."

Ann.

Are you sure you really love him?

Mother, you know I do.

Could be he's just turned your head with that French charm of his.

And could be Ella Keever was telling the truth in court.

No. She wasn't.

I know she wasn't.

Run along before the lunch gets cold.

Let's understand each other, Marshal.

We're not gonna let some oysters hold up a hanging.

They've been ordered from San Francisco and they're practically on their way.

You may not have the stomach to carry out your duty, Marshal,

but me and the boys have. Haven't we?

I don't want to spoil your fun, Calvin.

But he's in my jurisdiction, and that's where he stays

until he gets that last meal I promised him.

Well, it better get here soon.

Let me through, please.

You heard the lady. Step aside, boys.

Thank you, Marshal.

All right, break it up, break it up.

Your hanging's not called off, Calvin.

It's just postponed for a time.

It may be a little sooner than you think.

It's hopeless. Let them take me now.

It's... It's better than this... this waiting.

No, no. Please, we mustn't give up hope.

I got rid of them for now, but with our good judge steaming them up,

there's no telling how long I can hold them off.

You two take your time.

Oh, Marshal, please don't leave.

We need your help.

Done all I can.

He didn't get a fair trial. You know that.

Maybe it was kind of fast, but the evidence was all against him.

Then you honestly believe that he's guilty?

I'm afraid so.

But if I can find some proof, any proof,

that he didn't do it, then will you help us?

Naturally. What do you have in mind?

Well... Well, there was just too much evidence against him,

and it was all too plain.

I don't think I understand what you mean.

The blasting powder.

So carefully spilled.

And the wheelbarrow tracks, so obviously leading to the old mineshaft.

All right, but how do you explain that Stan Keever was killed with his pistol?

It was fired, that's true, but not by me.

Well, maybe someone could have stolen the gun from his room

and then returned it. It was not hidden. It was easy to find.

And everyone in town knew that he had a pair of French dueling pistols.

And besides, if I had shot one of them,

why would I leave it not cleaned, so conveniently?

Yes.

That may be.

But how do you prove it?

Well, I... I don't know.

All morning, I've been trying to figure out what enemy of Stan Keever's

might have killed him.

Maybe I was wrong.

It might have been a friend.

There isn't much time, is there?

All depends on that stage from San Francisco.

Here you are, Mrs. Keever.

Thank you.

Mrs. Keever, may I speak to you for a moment, please?

I'm in a hurry.

Why did you say Paul made advances to you?

Because he did.

Or was it because he didn't?

Why did she stop by?

Well, since she started making these deliveries to the camp,

she's been taking a few sandwiches along.

Apparently, losing her husband hasn't affected her appetite any.

I think it's time you started eating something, dear.

I couldn't.

Well, you have to go on living, no matter what happens.

I can't see you pining over Paul Duval. He isn't worth it.

Mother!

I... I held off telling you this because you were hurting so much,

I didn't want to hurt you any more.

Telling me what?

Well, it's true. There was something between Paul and Mrs. Keever.

Mother, how can you say a thing like that?

I saw it with my own eyes.

What? In the dead of night,

I saw Ella Keever come out of his room.

What night was this?

The night her husband was murdered.

Oh, Mother, thank you. You've helped, I think.

Except there's so much to do.

And there isn't much time to do it in. Ann?

How'd you get in here?

I used Paul's key.

I hope I won't have to use his gun.

What do you want? The truth.

You got the truth in court.

That wasn't the truth.

That's why I'm retrying the case in my court.

And I can pass the death sentence too.

You wouldn't dare. Oh, yes, I would.

I'm not as brave as you, Ella.

If Paul dies, I have nothing to live for.

I couldn't carry on the way you have.

The way you so quickly took over the business.

Taking care of the books, making the deliveries.

Working so hard.

What are you getting at?

That you killed your husband. That's insane!

Oh, no. It was just good business.

With Stan Keever dead,

and Paul paying for it,

all this is yours.

The most successful enterprise in Hangtown.

Isn't that the way it happened?

All right, I'll tell you.

You were so thorough, Ella.

Too thorough, in pointing the blame at Paul.

Spilling the powder.

Leaving the wheelbarrow track that was so easy to discover.

It was all so carefully planned.

But it was too perfect.

You stole Paul's gun, didn't you?

You're insane.

You were seen. What did you do with it?

Nothing! People don't steal guns for nothing.

What did you do with it?

You used it. You killed your own husband.

No! No, it's not true!

Oh!

All right, I took the gun. I took the gun, but I didn't use it.

I swear it. I can prove it.

All right. You prove it. You prove it now,

and to the marshal tonight.

All right.

Marshal Corey.

Marshal Corey!

Yelling won't do you any good, Frenchie!

Listen, Mears, maybe we ought to at least tell the marshal.

Oh, what for?

It's plain as day that girl of his

worked on Keever's widow, softened her up.

Now she's doing the same thing with the marshal.

I say let's get it over with.

Marshal.

Marshal Corey!

Marshal!

It's me. Ella.

They hang him yet?

All right, Keever, let's go.

Marshal Corey.

Don't look at me like that.

They forced me to do it.

Oh, it's all right, honey.

It's all just a little joke.

We ain't broke no laws.

You almost had an innocent man killed on the gallows,

and you call it a joke?

You're under arrest, both of you, for attempted murder.

You aren't as selfish as I said you are, Ella.

You were quite willing to share the business with your husband

while his partner was hanged by mistake.

I'm innocent.

Mears!

Let him go.

It's Keever. He's alive.

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.

Fastest run I ever made.

You know, some of that ice ain't even melted yet.

It's the freshest oysters to ever hit Hangtown.

And now, for the big steak.

No steak for you, Paul.

I went to a lot of trouble and expense to get the stuff

for that crazy concoction of yours.

And I went to a lot of fuss to fix it for you.

So, now you're going to eat it.

Do you mean I must eat this?

Oh, yes, Paul. We followed your recipe exactly.

Recipe? There never was such a recipe.

I just made it up out of thin air.

To save a man's life.

My own.

Mm.

And so it was that a man condemned to die on the gallows at Hangtown,

stalling for time, dreamed up a dish that is known to this day

in many restaurants throughout the West as the Hangtown Fry.

You ought to try it sometime.

You might like it too.