All language subtitles for The.Adventures.of.Jim.Bowie.S01E05.Trapline ENGLISHripdf

* Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie *

* He was a bold,
adventurin' man *

* Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie *

* Battle for right
with a powerful hand *

* His blade was
tempered and so was he *

* Indestructible steel was he *

* Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie *

* He was a fighter, a fearless
and mighty adventurin' man *

- [Narrator] This is Cajun
country, the heart of Louisiana.

Here the French Acadians,

driven from their
homes in Nova Scotia,

cling to their ancient customs.

Now, 20 years after the
American purchase of this land,

and 20 miles into the
wilderness, it is still French.

And it looks as though it
will remain French forever,

for Americans are looked
upon with suspicion,

and enter Cajun country
at their own peril.

(gun firing)

- [Man] Come out, monsieur.

- Careless shootin', mister.

You coulda spoiled a good pelt.

- The only pelt I will spoil,
monsieur, will be yours.

Drop them.

- Why, aren't they for sale?

- You're not a
Western Company man.

- No, I'm nobody's man.

I'm Jim Bowie from
Opelousas, howdy.

- You come to Cajun
country to buy furs?

- Why not?

It's good fur country.

- I do not sell to
outsiders, monsieur.

- Not even if I
pay you top prices?

In gold?

Save you a little trip,

you won't have to go
to the rendezvous.

- I sell only to the
Western Company, monsieur.

You go to rendezvous yourself,
perhaps you can buy furs,

but not from me.

Now drop them.
(tense music)

- [Narrator] Everywhere
in the Cajun country,

it was the same.

The trappers refused
to deal with anyone,

but the Western Company.

Why?

Bowie was determined
to trade in furs,

so he went for an answer

to the spiritual leader
of these simple folk.

The parish priest.

- You are wasting your
time, Monsieur Bowie.

You will have to do
business with George le Gon,

of the Western Company.
- But why?

- Sit down.

They have a charter granted
by the King of France

a hundred years ago.

- Well, this is 1829,

Louisiana isn't under the
rule of any French king.

It's America.

That charter isn't worth the
piece of paper it's written on.

- The Western Company
claim exclusive rights

to all furs taken
in this region.

- Well that's wrong, Father.

It's wrong.

Trappers can sell their furs
to whoever they want to,

whoever gives 'em
the best price.

- I have told them so.

- This rendezvous,
it's an open market?

I mean the trappers go
there to sell their furs

to the highest
bidder, don't they?

- [Father Michel] Yes.

- Alright.

I'll be at the
rendezvous myself, with
a sack full of gold.

- I do not think that
would be wise, monsieur.

- Wise or unwise, Father, I'm
goin' in the fur business.

It's time the Western Company
had a little competition.

- Yes, but--
- Thank you, Father.

Good bye.

(light music)

(crowd chattering)

Hi.

Howdy, folks.

Well, I'm open for business,

here's my sign,
these are my prices.

And I'm paying gold.

And a $10 bonus to the
first one of you who sells.

And I'll better any offer
you can get elsewhere.

Prime pelts or not.

What's the matter, you
don't speak English?

(speaking in foreign language)

- [Man] We speak
English alright.

(approaching footsteps)

- That sign, it spoils
the front of the shed.

- Hmm?

No more than the
Western Company sign

spoils the front
of that building.

- The Western Company
sign is permanent,

you better take yours down.

- Oh I thought I'd keep it up
here 'til the rendezvous ends.

- For you it's ended
now, take it down.

- Well I don't think my
family would like that.

- Family?

I don't see any family.

- Well here's my brother.

And here's my uncle.

They say the sign stays.

And they're both faster
than you and your pistol.

- No one sells him anything.

Huh?

- Whoa.

Look, Father, $6 for minks.

- A good price, Daughter,
but not good enough.

- It will do no harm to talk.

Whoa.

Monsieur Bowie?

- Howdy, Miss.

- [Jean] You have permission
from Monsieur Le Gon

to trade here?
- I don't know Mr. Le Gon.

- [Paul]] If you
stay here, you will.

A good price, I am sorry
we cannot sell to you.

- These are the best bunch
of pelts I've seen yet.

Hmm.

For you I'll raise
my price a dollar.

- Perhaps no one has told you,

you cannot buy furs from Cajuns.

- A hundred minks
is $700 dollars.

- Your daughter has a good
head for figures, Sir.

- We have otters
and muskrats too.

- Name your price,
I'll buy the lot.

- You'll buy nothing, monsieur.

Drive on, Jean, please.

- But Father, we could
pay off our debt.

- [Jim] My money's
good, I assure you.

- Keep your money,
it is no good to us.

Drive on, Jean.

Le Gon will not like it if he
sees us talking to this man.

- I'm not worried what Le
Gon likes or dislikes, Sir.

- I'm sorry, monsieur.
(light music)

- Mug of ale, please.

How about a little
company, Father?

- Please.

- Thank you.

Who're they?

- Paul Brasseur and
his daughter Jean.

She is a better
trapper than he is.

- Come, Jean, we must
go to the blacksmith.

- Go on, Father,
I will join you.

- She spoke about a
debt to her father.

What'd she mean by that?

- The trappers, they are
all in debt to Le Gon.

He owns the store.

The furs never
quite get them even.

- [Le Gon] Ah, bonjour Father.

- Le Gon, take care.

- And whose soul you
trying to save now?

- The saving of souls,
monsieur Le Gon,

is in the hands of heaven.

Should you ever come to my
church we could discuss it.

- You want to grapple
with the Devil, eh?

First this way, and then that.

(wood thudding)

Tearing down your
sign was much easier.

Give him back his sign, Brissak.

- Voila.

- It is only because
you're a stranger,

I excuse your ignorance.

Put the sign on
your mule and go.

- Well, Mr. Le Gon, you tear
down signs, you break chairs,

what else do you do?

Cheat these frightened people?

- Do not try my
patience, monsieur.

- When will your patience be
tried, when my back's turned?

(chair clattering)

- Your back is not turned now.

- Have a drink.
(metal clanking)

Drop it!

Go on.

Now, Le Gon, you
tore down my sign,

you're gonna put it back again.

Go on, pick it up.

- This sign will be part
of your coffin, boy.

- Come on.

Go on, move.

You too.

Hurry up.

(light music)

Father Michel tells
me that you're

a better trapper than your Papa.

- Well, I have a
better reason to be.

- Yeah?

- I want to live in New Orleans.

Do you think I
like these clothes?

I want silk and lace, I want
to wear furs, not trap them.

(Jim laughs)

- You wanna trap a husband, huh?

- Yes.

- An American husband?

- Why not?

- Jean, what are you doing?

- I have sold to Monsieur Bowie.

- But you cannot, put those
pelts back on the wagon.

- If your daughter says so.

- Jean, tell him you
have made a mistake.

You do not wish to sell.

- I do want to sell.

I have sold.

- They're $50 dollar Spanish
gold slugs, 30 of them.

- Look, Father, we pay
Le Gon what we owe,

and we have enough
for next rendezvous.

No more debt, we're free.

- No more debt.

Hyah.

- Yes, Mademoiselle.

- Monsieur Bowie.

- Hello Father.

Look, prime pelts.

The ice is broken.

- Don't do this.

Sell them back, I beg of you.

- Sell 'em back?

I'm gonna buy some more.

- Monsieur, you are
an outsider here.

The Cajuns know only this land.

Trapping furs is their living.

Please do not bring harm
to these simple people.

- I'm not bringing harm to 'em.

I'm giving a good price.

And I'm not an outsider,
Father, I'm an American.

So are you Cajuns,
you know that.

Why haven't you told them?

- I have told them.

I have reasoned with Le Gon.

From them, silence.

- But, she came to me.

She wanted to sell the furs.

- Sell them back.

Let me bring Brasseur
here with his money.

- Well.

(gun firing)
(tense music)

- Paul, Paul, what is it?

(all talking)

- Who did it?

- [Man] You did it, American.

(intensifying music)

- It's not your fault, monsieur.

It's mine.

- Take her to my home, Amy.

- Well, who did it?

What's the matter
with you people?

Don't you realize you're
free men in a free country?

What are you so scared of?

You know the man who
did this, name him.

Father, you tell 'em.

- They all know it was Le
Gon, or one of his men,

yet their tongues are tied.

- Give this to the girl.

She may need it.

Well, I'm in and out of
the fur business fast.

Wasn't my fault, you
heard what the girl said.

What do you want
me to do, Father?

- What did you
want to do, my son?

- Go home to Opelousas, and
that's just what I'm gonna do.

(light music)

Oh no, it's not your fault.

I came down here, didn't I?

I stirred things up, didn't I?

Just to make a few dollars.

Alright then, I gotta take the,

I mean I've got to assume the--

- The moral
responsibility, monsieur?

- That's it.

Alright, I take it.

I assume it!

I don't like to feel
like this but I do,

and I wanna do
something about it.

Well it's nothing to laugh at.

Where's that $50 gold slug?

- The gold slug?

- The one I picked
up in the street.

- Oh, oh!

I did not give it to her, yet.

- Oh.

- Here it is.

A $50 gold piece.

There are probably
no others like it

in the whole of Louisiana.

- Why yes there are,
there are 29 others.

Were they found in
your father's pocket?

- No, they were stolen.

- So if Le Gon has them
he'll find it mighty hard

to explain how he
got them, won't he?

- What difference will it make?

No one will dare accuse him.

- I'll accuse him.

- Ah, to accuse
him is one thing.

To convict him, another.

- Mademoiselle, would
you be willing to swear

that your father
had 30 of these?

- Of course he had them.

- But would you
swear it in court?

- Yes.

- Can you ride a fast horse?
- I can.

- My horse is back
of the church.

I want you to take this letter

to Captain Marsh
in Natchitoches.

He'll know what to do.

- Your other knife, monsieur,
it is underneath those papers.

- Oh, thank you.

- One more thing, my son.

- Yeah?
- I was not laughing at you.

It always makes me
happy to see a man

get on the side of the angels.

- I'll keep this for
now, Mademoiselle.

Now, if Le Gon has the gold,

where do you think he'd keep it?

- I don't know.

- Does he have a
safe or a strongbox?

Anything like that in the store?

- I never saw one.

He wears a belt, with pockets.

- A money belt?

- He gave us some
money from it once.

- Hmm.

Then first thing
tomorrow morning,

we're gonna have to take a look.

(light music)

Come on, Jezebel
(clicks tongue) come on.

Atta girl.

Howdy!

What's your price on mink?

- 10 cents to you.

- 10 cents?

That's kinda low, can't
do better than that?

I'm selling.

- You are not selling
here, so keep going.

- Well they're prime pelts,
I paid a high price for 'em.

But I'm willing to take a
loss if you pay in gold coin.

- Boy, I'm a busy man.

Get that mule out of here.

- Alright.

Come on, Jezebel.

Now, Jezebel, come on.

Jezebel!

Come on, be a good girl.

Jezebel!

Well.

It's no good.

Jezebel's in one of
her stubborn moods.

You can't move her
when she's like this,

not even if you put
a fire under her.

Well, while Jezebel's
makin' up her mind,

maybe you'd like to take a look

at one of these $50 gold slugs.

Ever see one of these?

- If you don't move
that mule, I will.

- (laughs) I wish you would.

- Brissak, if that mule is
here in 10 seconds, shoot it.

- Aw, Brissak, you wouldn't
shoot Jezebel, would you?

- (chuckling) Just wait 10
seconds and see, monsieur.

- Alright, tell
you what I'll do.

I'll bet this $50 gold piece
that Brissak doesn't shoot.

- It's a bet.

- Alright, you tell
him to drop the gun.

Go on!

- Brissak, drop your gun.

(gun thuds)

- Take off your shirt, Le Gon.

- You take it off.

Now I will crack
your skull open.

Come closer, monsieur.

We'll see how expert
your knife hand is now.

- After the buttons
of your shirt.

- Stand still!

- The shirt, and
then the money belt,

and the gold you took
from a dead man's body.

- You will never
get it from me, boy.

Never.

Let me get my hands on
you, boy, just once.

(fist thudding)

- And now the money belt.

Well, now, look at this.

It's the gold I gave Brasseur.

Only the murderer
could have this.

Stop him!

- Get a rope!

Let's hang him!
- Now wait a minute,

there's gonna be a
no lynch rule here.

Come on, on your feet.

There.

Father Michel's on his
way from Natchitoches

with a representative
of the law.

They may be guilty, but
they've gotta have a trial.

Go on, lock 'em up.

- Come on.
(tense music)

- Alright, Jezebel, you beauty.

You've earned yourself
an extra special feed.

(intensifying music)

- I have asked you to
assemble here today

to meet Captain Marsh.

He has something to tell you.

- The Western Company
has been operating

in violation of the law.

Its claim to an exclusive
right to your furs,

under a French
charter, are false.

You have the right,
as American citizens,

to sell your furs
anywhere you please.

To anyone you please.

You don't have to forget
your French heritage,

it's a great one.

Liberty, equality, fraternity.

Just another way of
saying you're American.

- Thank you, Captain.

I'll be here at your
next rendezvous,

and if anyone outbids
me you sell to him!

- [Man] I will do that, yeah.

(all laughing)

- Oh, I was almost forgetting.

30 of 'em.

$1500.

(crowd gasps)

That oughta take
you to New Orleans.

- Thank you, monsieur.

I'll be going there soon.

- Good trapping.

(light music)

- Au revoir, monsieur!

Au revoir!

(all chattering)

* Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie *

* Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie *

* He was a fighter, a fearless
and mighty adventurin' man *