Original subtitles

Left right, left right.

Houston needs to cease wasting

time with these exercises and march us to Goliad.

Otherwise we'll have a repetition of Alamo.

I do believe if President Burnet knew of our situation,

it'd be a different story.

Mm-hm.

Again, Sergeant.

Again.

Mosley Baker.

Suggestions?

Sir!

Private Lamar.

I volunteered to fight for Texas,

not march in a damn Easter Parade.

Is that right?

Private Lamar, report here now!

We will not tolerate insolent behavior!

This is, uh, Mirabeau Lamar.

He's secretly circulating a petition to remove Houston.

Sir?

Private Lamar, please.

You may sit.

Private Lamar, we had a crisis with our gutless commander.

And we understand you are of a like mind.

You need to get a urgent message to the Secretary of War, Rusk.

Can you do that?

They may not know how to march, but trust me,

they know how to argue.

Colonel Seguin, despite our poor marching abilities,

take comfort in knowing that the men's hatred for Santa Anna

binds us together.

And so does their hatred for Sam Houston.

The horses are tuckered.

There's a water hole right around that bend.

Charmaine could use a nice drink and a good graze,

couldn't you, old girl?

Captain, it seems like you love that horse more

than you do your wife.

Hey, Deaf, who's a better mount?

Your wife, or your horse?

My horse.

He sure does love that horse.

Oh, I see.

You're having a nice jest at the expense of my impairment.

The good thing is, I don't need to hear no disparaging nonsense

from the likes of you.

You have something to say that matters,

you best say to my face.

That's right, Captain.

No sense in getting all hot and bothered.

Hey, I'm just wondering who bucks harder.

What'd he say?

Nothin'.

The Union's impositions have

negative repercussions for all the individuals of Texas.

Texas must be a sovereign nation.

President Jackson supports Western expansion

all the way to the coast.

Why doesn't he send his troops?

Because this way, Jackson is

free to let Texas into the union and lead a clear militaristic

path all the way to California.

Your blind ignorance

never ceases to amaze me.

Old Hickory is bound by treaty.

Texas can bathe Mexico and invite

the likes of the Spaniards and the French and the crusty Brits

to intervene.

This is different, gentlemen.

This is Texas.

Hey, Texas is part of Mexico.

Oh, yeah.

What do you think we're fighting for, huh?

Yeah, but this is where you're wrong, Colonel Seguin.

With Houston as our general, we don't do much fighting.

Private Knowles!

You're not hiding from your general, are ya?

N-- no, sir, I was just, uh--

yes, sir, I was trying to hide from you, General Houston, sir.

I-- I-- yes.

I have my eye on you.

You're rangering now?

Uh, he prefers it to the firing squad.

How's he doing?

Passable.

Ain't tried to run off.

I'm with Vern.

I say we shoot him.

I tried, General.

He did.

Be happy to try again.

We let him ride with us.

We didn't know what else to do with him.

Robert, what qualities do you possess

to commend you for a pardon?

He don't got no good qualities.

Hell no.

Qualities, sir.

Qualities-- well, uh, I like this part

of the country a whole lot.

I like the air around here.

I like-- I do.

I like breathing it in, and-- and I like sleeping

under the stars as well.

And-- oh, and I like breathing the air--

Said that already.

--while I'm sleeping under--

Can't you think of anything good to say about yourself?

Uh--

No.

Damn it, I--

I promise you, General Houston, I--

I do not care about nobody but myself.

I-- I am--

I am bullheaded and I'm--

I'm ornery as a snake.

Ornery?

Ornery's good.

Yep.

Ornery's not bad for rangering company.

Ornery!

Ornery!

Right?

Let's mount up, boys.

Vern's the orneriest son of a bitch I know.

Yes, he is.

Ornery.

Woo!

You gonna cook them taters

or make a necklace out of 'em to wear with your skirt?

I bet you dyspepsia is not unknown to you.

I can't say I know him.

Oh.

You know what, Hays?

You remind me of my big brother Samuel.

I'm chagrined by the notion

of any resemblance between myself

and any pack member of the Wallace species.

Well, don't get the big head on me.

You don't look more alike than me and a mule's ass.

Well, dead ringers, then--

uncanny.

Sammy's got a way about him--

horse sense, I guess you'd call it.

See a lot of him in you.

This can stand to stew a bit yet.

When we was growin' up, Sammy saved

my sorry butt more than once.

Ward off the bullies, did he?

Oh, hell no.

Made me whoop 'em.

If I hadn't he'd have whooped me worse.

I sense our kinship.

Hey, you sass me all you want with that high-brow blather.

But I am paying you one hell of a compliment.

If your brother's half the man you are,

we're gonna be good friends.

Taters could've used another five

minutes on the coals.

Careful with that.

Those are the president's belongings.

Hurry up!

No time to waste.

President Burnet?

President Burnet is busy.

I need to see the president.

Santanistas just burned Belleville.

Se or, I said you can't come in--

Mr. President!

I'm here under urgent dispatch of Colonel Mosley Baker.

It is my duty to present this petition from your rank

- and file. - And you would be?

Private Mirabeau Bonaparte Lamar, Fairfield, Georgia, sir.

Spit it out, boy.

We got to go before Santa Anna gets here.

Houston will not engage.

Rusk!

Why won't your man meet the enemy?

'Cause he's a damn coward.

Houston may be many things, but a coward he is not.

Then what, in the name of God, is in that man's soul?

I presume General Houston is picking his ground, sir.

Forgive me, Mr. Secretary, Mr. President.

I so desperately insist that you come to the front.

I fear we face a mass desertion.

Look around you, son.

The Santanistas are half a day's ride from here.

We've abandoned the capitol, and I'm on the run again.

Now, if I am captured or killed, this rebellion is finished.

Francisco!

We're on our way to New Orleans to set

up a provisional government.

Now, Rusk, you go tell Houston that both his troops

and the enemy are laughing him to scorn.

He must fight, or I'll find someone that will.

Yes, sir.

Francisco, let's go!

Yes, sir.

Get everyone out before the Mexicans get here!

All right, young man.

I want to hear every detail.

A petition signed by each and every man

under General Houston to relieve him of his command.

Lucifer himself has risen from the bowels of Hades

to tear the turgent flesh off the bones of all Mexicans!

Pluck their eyes and eat their livers,

till their wretched screams for the angel of death deafen

this godforsaken earth!

Who are you?

I am the punishment, here to spite

every jumping bean lubricano, man, woman, and child,

from the Texas plain!

This is war, not a crusade.

Ah, ha.

Had you witnessed the abominations

at the Alamo in Goliad, you'd think differently.

Goliad?

Damn crazy bastard, speak plain.

They're all dead, murdered.

300 slain, slaughtered after surrender!

So much blood the air turned to a crimson mist!

Two of my Ranger boys were there.

One had red hair.

The other one rode a big black gelding.

What of them?

Got ambushed, shot by so many bullets,

shred the skin clean off the bodies.

Splintered their skulls beyond recognition.

All the bodies lay as they fell, left to rot for the buzzards

and the maggots.

By what right do you have to do this?

I claim the ancient right, by my own death denied

and my brethren butchered!

Your account of Goliad--

I'll need more than a lunatic's word.

I answer to neither man nor God.

There's Chupaldo, Santa Anna's courier.

Why don't you ask him for his account?

Best make haste.

Fresh dispatch from Santa Anna himself.

I am a servant to Lucifer!

Death to all brown skin Mexican demons!

Don Antonio, Burnet has just escaped with his entourage.

We were only moments too late.

The bite of the flames, the sting of the smoke--

don't you feel it?

Feel what, sir?

Death.

Are you hot, Almonte?

Aye.

The flush of victory and the cries of the dying--

does it not excite you?

What an ordinary man feels as pain or revulsion,

a real soldier must learn to feel as pleasure.

This is war.

And the truth is, we enjoy it.

Our enemies are a rabble.

The public's gratitude is uncertain.

The politicians-- fickle, at best.

A moment like this one--

victory gives purpose to all our sacrifices, our suffering.

Jose.

Madam, come with me.

Come, come, come.

"There is little more I can add,

Mrs. Fincham, excepting that Truett and Yancey accounted

for themselves in this campaign with--"

what's the fancy word for cojones?

I reckon valor's pretty good.

"--with valor.

You ought to be proud of your son,

as the Rangers hold him in highest regard.

Sincerely, H. Karnes."

They was good boys.

Now, read that all back to me from the start.

It ought to be suitable.

You's hungry, ain't you?

So hungry, my belly button's gnawing on my backbone.

Go ahead.

That crazy old coot.

I ain't seen nothing like him in the good Lord's

Christian world.

Did you see his eyes?

His-- they were--

Oh, yeah.

-dead.

Just de-- like chunks of black coal.

Oh, I don't recall the Bible talking

about a demon of his ilk.

Lorca.

What?

Lorca.

Lorca?

Who-- what is that, some injun name for Beelzebub?

It's Cayuga legend.

In ancient times, there was an Atikapan warrior who--

was killed in battle, without honor.

And when his spirit rose, it peeled off

the skin of his barbarian enemies,

and the sun burned them until--

their insides were crisp.

Sweet Jesus.

That's what he did.

All right.

Just so you fellas know, we chance on his like again,

I will likely soil myself straight away.

Well, that's more than likely in your case.

I am not at all sure this rangering business suits me.

If'n these jackasses won't say it, I will.

That lickspittle Knowles was right.

Our cause is lost, dammit.

The only thing we're going to find in Texas is our graves.

Turn and run, huh?

Is that it, Vern?

Hell no.

Turn, run, and fornicate.

Texas is fine country, but Texican women,

they're so ugly they'd back a buzzard off a gut wagon.

I'd sooner service a sow.

I best get back to Paris.

Ooh, Paris, huh?

Paris.

In Paris, the missies paint their faces like dolls,

wear bodices, make their teats spill out.

And the clincher is, they perfume their quim

to smell just like lilac.

You are a sinner, Vern, marked by a terrible stain.

Now your British wench--

Mm-hm?

-she's kind of fleshy.

Stinks a little when she sweats.

And she gonna sweat plenty when I'm riding her.

Of course, your best poke now, in my opinion,

is ports of call off Spain.

Spain!

You've been to Spain, too, huh?

- Don't interrupt. - All right.

Continue.

Them skinny little dark-eyed gypsy girls,

twirled around on your pecker like a butter churn.

Yeah, well, you come near my sisters,

and I will shoot your lecherous ass, graveyard-dead.

And you best not so much as glance

at Rebecca, that sweet young thing we rescued at Gonzales.

I don't care one string bean for that seven-by-nine gal.

Come with me, kid.

We'll catch a schooner out of New Orleans

with some of my old swabbies.

We ain't gonna do nothing here but die young.

Sir, it now seems unlikely the Texans will

prevail, especially since Houston's at odds

with his officer corps.

Damn Texans.

Been at odds with them myself.

So, Mr. President, should we advise the Texans to relieve

General Houston of command?

As long as I've lived, I've been

a keen judge of horse flesh.

What clinches it for me is to stare in the horse's eyes

and let him tell me who he is.

I first looked into Sam Houston's eyes

at the Battle of Horseshoe.

He was 19 years old, first on the line,

first on the assault, first to be marked for death.

I do not propose to understand him.

But if there's a way to defeat Santa Anna,

the only man capable of doing so is Sam Houston--

except for me, of course.

All right there, Charmaine.

Good night, girl.

God knows I wanted to be wrong about Fannin.

God damn it.

Deaf-- I'm hungry for counsel.

I'd welcome yours.

Well, one thing Santa Anna's done,

he's let every Texian know that to surrender means death.

Don't run from him no more.

Fight him like Comanches.

You stay close, so close he can feel your breath.

You let him know you're always there, and he can't touch you.

Sooner or later, he's going to show you his tender underbelly.

And when he does, you take that sword of years,

and you sink it to the hilt. You slit him through and through.

That's all well and good.

What about his other generals and their armies?

Cut the head off the snake, the body dies.

How do you know this, Francisco?

I heard it from President Burnet's own mouth.

He's fleeing to New Orleans by way of Galveston Bay.

And Houston?

What is his position?

Somewhere west of the Sabine River, below Gonzales.

Rumors say that he's crazy and his troops are mutinous.

Burnet ordered Houston to meet you on the field.

That's exactly where I want him.

We will divide the army into multiple divisions

to pursue and destroy what's left of the rebel army.

General, if you will indulge me.

Our many great victories have been because we

maintain an overwhelming force.

His excellency's strategy is brilliant.

Ha.

What about President Jackson?

How can we be certain that he will not intervene?

Almonte, Old Hickory hides behind treaties,

moves in shadows.

He stole Florida from Spain and claims Texas was

part of the Louisiana Purchase.

Texas is the pathway to the Pacific.

Jackson wants it all--

all the way to California.

Francisco, I reward results.

Bring me news.

Yes, your excellency.

Get back to your president!

A woman with full, meaty arms.

I like that.

Be careful, my friend.

She's the Presidente General's property.

Hey, I know you.

You are Manuel Flores.

It is me, Hector Ribaldo!

We played cards, remember?

I won!

I was proud to take your money 'cause

you joined the filthy rebels!

You mistake me for someone else.

No.

I am quite certain.

You are a traitorous spy.

Meet me back here tonight after the changing

of the night guard.

- I have vital news. - Yes.

- All right. - Go!

For Mexico!

Everybody pays Francisco.

You pay me.

You pay me.

The rebel Presidente Burnet pays me.

Even His Excellency Santa Anna himself.

Mwah.

Everyone pays me.

Soon, that pirate Houston will pay me, too.

Whoa!

I almost pissed myself.

Francisco.

Who's that?

This is how Houston pays spies.

- Wha-- - Oh!

Ha.

Howdy.

Come on, Ruthie!

Let's get!

Got me a wrist cuff!

Woo, hoo!

Mount up, you dang slowpoke!

Ah!

Aw, shit!

Forget the damn horse.

We got to get!

My horse.

They stole my horse.

It's a long walk to Goliad.

Go, go, go!

Go east to Houston's army.

God bless you.

Look out for Comanches.

Flores.

We have no time.

We go now.

I'd be better used to Texas staying here.

Hey.

You're coming with me.

General Houston's orders.

I don't answer to him.

If you want to kill Santa Anna, you will need this.

You may lose your life.

What life?

I'm a negro born out of punishment to my mamma,

growed up to be a whore.

Tell the general Santa Anna's pursuing him personally.

It's an obsession.

Give him these.

He'll know. Be vigilant.

Be safe.

Hurry!

Get back before Santa Anna wakes.

Sticks in my craw, them trash got off with my wrist cuff.

You're out a trinket.

I'm on foot.

That was a blooded thoroughbred those wastrels took.

Raised him from a colt, I did.

That's why you got your mind set on walking

all the way to Goliad?

Do I have a choice?

And that was no trinket, hard case.

It was a precious family heirloom made

by pa for me and my brother.

Still damp.

She's bleeding out.

Pissant she-devil bitch.

I hope so.

Psst, psst, psst.

Psst, psst, psst.

Go.

You got your wish.

She wearing my wrist cuff?

Nope.

Pissant bitch.

You sure you don't want to ride?

I told you, two grow men can't write double.

It ain't dignified.

Oh, you want dignity or blisters?

Come on.

Yah.

Comanches!

Comanches!

My rifle!

Hold your fire!

Hold your fire.

Oh, no, no, no.

I won't be massacred by Comanches!

Shit, they ain't gonna take me alive.

Son of a bitch, let's open up on 'em.

You'll follow orders!

Anderson.

Fire only if we fall dead.

Anderson talks injun?

You just figured that out?

I heard he was kidnapped by 'em when he was a boy.

You can smell the stinking savage on him.

Steady.

Tell him I'm a chieftain.

Good.

Tell him to kill me.

I don't think that's a good idea with--

with me standing next to you and all.

Go ahead.

Kill me.

If you want war the likes the Comanches have never seen,

my death brings Yankee soldiers like Buffalo herds.

The croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.

Shakespeare does not translate into Comanche.

He said that the Cherokee call you the Raven,

but the Comanche call you Wild Turkey

because you drape yourself in foolish colors.

And you lose your head when the coyote come.

What the hell they saying?

You'd prefer not knowing.

I would.

If the Mexicans don't kill you, he will.

He's hardly 16.

He's already got two scalps on his lance.

Friend of yours?

His name's Yellow Knife.

He's my son.

First wagon sets that side of the line!

Single file all the way to Nueces River!

Make sure of your spokes!

Make sure your water barrels is full to the hilt!

We pull out of the in an hour!

You ain't ready, you're on your own!

The Santanistas are killing everyone!

Flee for your lives!

Make that a half hour!

Let's go!

Come on!

Let's go!

Let's go!

Go!

They're coming!

Yah!

Yah!

Everyone's skidaddling.

We're a long cry from St. Louis.

Took everything we had to get us this far.

Whoa!

There ain't nothin' for us back home.

I told you the day we left I'd follow

you to the end of the earth.

Well, this just might be it.

Should we turn and head back?

No refunds!

Yes, sir.

I'm tracking Impresario Buckley.

Then you're tracking me.

What can I do for you?

No refunds, as I've stated.

Yes, sir.

Uh, I'm looking to--

interested in a-- in a land grant.

With everyone leaving, why you here?

You-- you running from the law?

No, sir.

I'm, uh, interested in making a fresh start

and getting some good land and--

and, uh, now I understand that the Mexican army is, uh,

driving all the Americans out.

Honest settlers have nothing to fear.

President Santa Anna protects all legal landowners.

It's the thieves, squatters, and revolutionaries who get shot.

I see.

You swear allegiance to the Republic of Mexico?

Yes, sir.

For six cents an acre, I surely do.

I can grant 170 acres for farming.

But no whiskey brewing, gunrunning, tobacco smuggling,

or frontier riffraffing.

Oh, no, sir.

I mean, yes, sir.

By law, improvements must be made timely,

but you've been shot in the flanks with good luck.

There's a property cleared with a sturdy cabin on it,

ready to farm.

I can let you have it for seven and a half cents an acre.

You can pay on time, cash or trade.

Of course, I favor cash.

Well, uh, I was hoping to pay a percentage of my crop yield.

That your, uh, big slave yonder?

- Yep. - Mm.

Damn, that Sambo's half the down payment right here.

Well, uh, I'm gonna need Nate to help me plow the field,

I mean, so's I can pay you.

But-- but-- but I was hoping to pay you

10% of my first year's yield and 20%, uh, every year thereafter.

I'll make an exception, but don't tell nobody.

Special circumstance, 'cause I tend to favor family men.

But at the very least, I'll need you to put

the negro up as collateral.

I can also allocate another 440 acres for a ranching.

Uh, ranching?

Comes from the Spaniards.

Cattle roam free, proliferate, then sold on the hoof.

Mexicans been doing it for near 100 years.

No, I mean farmland.

That's-- that's what I'm after.

I'm--

Name?

Uh, Wykoff.

James.

James Wykoff.

Wykoff.

What's your religion?

Well, now, uh, my wife is a-- is a hard-shell Baptist.

Mexico only recognizes those of Catholic faith.

Being a Catholic's not too bad--

you know, a priest instead of a preacher.

Well, then, we'll do right by you, mister.

Signature.

Yeah.

It's, uh--

Yeah.

Yeah. Welcome to Mexico.

Thank you.

My God, Jack.

Oh, no.