All language subtitles for The.Life.and.Legend.of.Wyatt.Earp.S01E15.Rich.Mans.Son.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-squalor ENGLISHripdf

* [humming]

* Wyatt Earp, Wyatt Earp

* Brave, courageous,
and bold *

* Long live his fame
and long live his glory *

* And long may his
story be told *

* [humming]

[Narrator]
When Wyatt Earp was marshal
of Wichita, Kansas in 1875,

one of the serious problems
with which he had to deal

was the runaway boy
from the East.

Hundreds of such youngsters,
incited by lurid dime novels

about cowboys,
Indians, and outlaws,

left their homes
in eastern towns and cities

for the wild, exciting life
of the Western Frontier.

If today's comic books

have a bad effect
on many juvenile readers,

they are mild compared
to the bloody sensationalism

of paperback thrillers,

which lured the youth
of earlier times

to seek adventure
in the brawling violence

of cattle trail and cow town.

[all yelling]

[gunfire]

Hold it!

Break it up, there!

All right, hold it!

Get the gun!

Come out of there!

[gunshot]

Why, you little punk.

Are you using real bullets?

I got me several
of that Lazy H outfit.

Oh, you did, huh?

Well, they all seem
to be standing up.

You the sheriff, mister?

No, I'm the marshal.
Who are you?

My name's Tim Jones.

I'm with the Bar Ws.

We had our loading
orders first,

then those Lazy Hs
tried to jump our claim.

You took a shot at me.

Well, I didn't
see your star.

I thought you were a Lazy H.

I don't shoot at the law.

Now that's real
considerate of you.

Come on.

[Men shouting]

Was he shooting?

Yeah, without
a license.

This one's sober.

We'll take him back to town
with the rest of them.

Does a cowhand get
a fair trial in this town,

or do they lynch him?

Your size, we spank.

Anybody get hurt?

No. They're too drunk
to get hurt, most of 'em.

I wish people would
keep their kids at home.

I got another Desperate
Desmond on my hands.

Runaway boy, huh?
Yeah.

It's a wonder he didn't
ping somebody or hurt himself.

Is this the kid's?

Yeah.

This is the worst yet.

They're coming west
by the hundreds.

We've had at least
a couple of dozen
in the last few months.

Can't you get something
in the Eastern papers about it?

I've tried, Wyatt.

I think it's just
normal kid behavior.

In fact, they're
rather proud.

Proud? Proud of what?

Young America,
the spirit of the pioneers--

you know the line.

Well, I've got
something to show you.

Sam.

Sam, bring that young
Tim Jones in, will you?

Now the "spirit
of the pioneers" is fine.

But I have yet to see
a runaway kid with a hoe.

They all want
to be gunfighters.

It's those dime novels
they read.

Ned Buntline and his
daredevil of the plains.

Yeah, written by men that have
never been west of Albany.

I wish they could see
what it does

to some of their readers.

Well, take a good look
at him, Mr. Murdock.

Young America.

Hey, are you the judge?

No, that's Mr. Murdock.

He happens to be the editor
of the Wichita Eagle.

Hey, I don't want my name
or my picture in the paper.

Well, don't worry,
you're not that important.

Now go sit down.

Where do your folks live?

Haven't any folks.

Who's your relatives?

No relatives.

Just write it down
that I'm a cowpuncher

working for
the Bar W outfit.

The Bar W outfit
doesn't hire kids.

You jumped off
a freight train.

I don't want any more
fresh talk from you.

I've got to send you home.

Where is that?

None of your business.

Don't get sassy
with Mr. Earp, kid.

Okay.

I'm a homeless
juvenile vagrant.

I'm an orphan without
any means of support.

That's too bad.

We'll, uh, have to
put him up for adoption.

Yeah.

Mr. Bodine at the dairy

would like to have
another orphan.

40 cows to milk twice a day,

only three kids
to do it.

Think you're tough
enough for that?

Well, I want to be a cowhand.

You know, ride the range,
punch cows.

You can milk cows
at the dairy.

No. If my father
were here, he'd--

You just turn me loose.

You do have a father, huh?
No, I don't.

Bend over the desk.

What?
You heard me.

I said bend over the desk.
No! Ow!

Wait, I'll tell ya!

All right.

My father is
Timothy Jones, Sr.

He lives in
the Fifth Avenue Hotel

in New York City.

New York, huh?

You've come a long way.

I'll send a wire
for you, Wyatt.

Thanks.
We should hear
in a few hours.

My father'll fix you

for using corporal
punishment on me.

No one's allowed
to do that.

You're just a Big Country
Jake Sheriff.

You're a spoiled brat.

At least you might
as well start learning.

Learnin' what?

To be a cowhand,

that's what you came
west for, isn't it?

Yeah.

Where do we go now?

We're going to
a little cowhand school.

I run it just
for boys like you.

Now the first thing
a cowhand has to learn

is how to ride a horse.

I already know.

Oh, you do, huh?
Sure.

Come here.

It's on this side.

Turn him loose.

All right, Mr. Jones.

You all right?

Yeah.

I'll show him.

No, I think
you had enough.

I want to try him again.

All right, but this time,

keep your heels
out of his flank.

[cow mooing]

[grunting]

Stayed on him that time
a longer time.

You want to try him again?

No. That horse
doesn't like me.

Well, we'll forget about
riding for the time being.

Cowhand's got to learn
how to rope.

That's a lasso.

Give it here.

I'll show you
how to bust a steer.

Oh?

First, you tie
one end of the rope
around your waist.

Then, you open the loop
at the end, like this.

Uh-huh.

That's good.

Now you stay right here,

and I'll go get a steer
and let him out of the chute.

You can rope him.

How big a steer?

Oh, just about your size.

Those aren't steers.

Those are calves,
little dogies.

Well, you just go ahead
and try and rope 'em.

I'll show ya.

Mr. Jones, you're aiming
at the wrong end.

Come here.

You go up and climb up
on that fence over there,

and drop the loop
over their head.

That's not the proper
way to do it.

That's the proper way
for a cowhand on foot.

Now you go climb up.

Okay.
Go on.

Are you all set?

Yeah.

I'll shoo one
by for you.

Come on, dogie.

Go on!

Ow, it burns my hands.

[laughing]

Untie the rope.

Whoa, boy.

Now, let's see.

First, you tie the rope
around your waist--

Well, I thought that was
the way you did--

You can't rope
and your can't ride.

What can you do?

I'm tired and I'm hungry.

Well, a good cowhand
can always eat.

But you're a little dirty.

Got to get you
scrubbed up first.

Oh, no.

Oh, yes.

This water's too cold.
I'll catch pneumonia.

It's good for you.

No!

It's too cold!

Aah!

Now you know what that is?

A farm tool of some kind.

In Kansas,
we call it a hoe.

This is what
you do with it.

Now you try it.

Not me.
That's hard labor.

No work, no eat.

But it has nothing to do
with being a cowhand.

They don't chop down
weeds with hoes.

Yes, they do.

And they clean the corrals
with pitchforks, too.

They squat on dirty cows

and burn their hide
with a branding iron.

Hard labor.

Well, you ought to see
what they look like

after a week of riding
in the brush

and alkali dust
on a round-up.

They stink, Mr. Jones.

I got no more time
to waste on you.

Go buy your lunch
from the jailer.

Hi, Marshal.

Hi, Sam.

Message came a while ago
from Mr. Murdock.
Uh-huh.

That New York business.

Well, read it
to me, will you?

"No Timothy Jones registered
at Fifth Avenue Hotel."

Thanks.

Mr. Jones.

Come on in here.

Now we may be Country Jakes,

but at least we try
and tell the truth.

I've even taken the word
of an outlaw killer

like Ben Thompson,
and he kept it.

But I can't take yours.

There's nobody registered
by the name of Timothy Jones

at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.

They've never heard of him.

All right, go ahead.

No.

I'd rather be spanked

than listen to you call me
a liar and no-good brat.

All right, then.

What's your father's
real name?

I'm not going to tell you.

Why not?

You'll telegraph him,

then he'll send
detectives after me.

I'm not going home.
I hate it there.

All right,
you hate your home.

I still have to know
where you live.

Look, I obeyed ya.

I took a bath.

I tried to stay on
that horse.

I got dragged by a dogie
and I hoed weeds.

That's more than I did
for anybody else.

Now I'm through with you.

Mr. Jones.

Sit down.

You happen to be a runaway boy,
and the law says

it's my job to get you home.
Do you understand that?

You can't do that if I won't
tell you where I live.

All right.

Take this note

over to the clerk
at the Texas House.

Here's the key to my room.

Get yourself a bite to eat,

and you stay at the hotel.

Tim.

When I get off work,
we'll have a long talk.

When'll that be?

8 or 9, maybe later.

Now, I'm trusting you
to stay there.

I'll run away.

No, you won't.

How you figure that?

Well, most kids
want to be good.

You can't be any different
from the rest of them.

Sure, you want
to be a cowhand,

you want to follow
Ned Buntline's wild westerns.

But why run away
from home to do it?

You've got plenty of time
for that when you grow up.

Why make such a secret
out of where you live?

Your father
can't be that bad.

I'll see you
at the hotel, Mr. Earp.

Are you sure you saw
the kid go in here?

Yeah, he ate by himself
and then he went in.

Good evening.

Railroad detectives.

Hannibal and St. Joseph.

What can I do for you?

You got a lad

about 14 years old
staying here?

He's a nice-looking boy.

He's about that tall.
Brown hair, blue eyes.

Oh, yes, Timothy Jones.

He's in care
of Marshal Earp.

Timothy Jones?

Where can we find him?

You'd better talk
to Marshal Earp.

He's usually here by now.

Thank you. We'll be back.

[knocking]

Is that you, Mr. Earp?

No, it's Mr. Davis,
the clerk.

Oh.

Two railroad detectives
were just here.

They asked about you.

What'd you tell them?

I told them they should
talk to Mr. Earp.

But he asked me to make sure
you stayed in the hotel.

Thank you, sir.
I'll stay right here.

[Tim]
Turn me loose!

Mr. Earp'll fix you.

That cow town sheriff

better keep his nose
out of this.

Mr. Earp! Mr. Earp!

Help me!

Hold it! Let him go.

You keep out of this.

We're railroad detectives.

They're kidnapping me.

I don't care who you are,
you're under arrest.

Yeah?

Hold it.

[gunshot]

Kill 'em both, Mr. Earp.

You get back to the hotel
and stay there. Go on!

Yes, sir.

All right,
go pick up your friend.

Go on.

You'll be sorry for this.

That's Big Tim Callahan's son.

And who is Callahan?

The president
of the Hannibal/
St. Joe Railroad.

You're in trouble,
you stupid Jayhawk.

Yeah?

Start him over
to Doc Fabreek's office.

Hey, where's Callahan from?

Chicago.

He headed here
in his private car.

Or did you refuse
to let his men wire him?

No. They wired him.

Look, this is
serious, my friend.

Look, I happen
to think I'm right.

Morally, yes.

But you rousted
that kid of his around,

buffaloed one of his men
and shot the other one.

Lord knows what Callahan
will accuse you of.

That reminds me.
What?

I promised to have
a talk with his kid.
Now wait.

I think you and I
should have a talk

with Judge Jewett
and Mayor Hope.

This is more important.

Well, I happen to think

that the boy is a lot more
important than the old man.

The boy is the one that's
got the real trouble.

You hate everybody,
don't you?

First you take a shot at me,

then you want
those detectives killed,

and now your father.

What has your dad
done to you

that you're so willing
to turn into a little tramp?

Everybody's against me.

The old man, most of all.

So I'm against them.

Why do you think
your father's against you?

He don't even know me.

He's never home.

He believes my stepmother.

Everything she says is right.

Your stepmother's
against you, huh?

She hates me.

Every time my dad hires
a teacher I get along with,

she waits until
Dad's on a trip

and then she fires 'em.

Does your dad travel
a good deal?

Most of the time.

Then the servants
keep me locked up

in that big old house.

Well, that's not
enough reason

to go around
hating people, Tim.

It's not, huh?

I thought I wanted
to be your friend, once,

but you're just
like all the rest.

[gunfire]

It's the Bar W outfit.

You stay away
from that window.

[gunfire continues]

[shouting]

Whoo.

Drive on.

Those hoodlums won't
shoot at Tim Callahan.

I don't care
about you, mister.

My team is worth $300.

I'll pay for the team.

Go back to the barn.

All right, fine with me.

[whinnying]

[Callahan]
Hyah! Hyah!

[gunfire]

Look out, Dad!

Timmy! Timmy!

Are you hurt?

My arm hurts.
Guess it's broken.

When are you guys gonna learn
to work together, you fools?

Put down your guns, come on.

I'll take care of this.

You and the boys
hustle those men in.

Go on.

Let me see that arm.

Who are you?

Now try and stand up.
That's it.

Just take it easy.
Watch your leg.

Let me see.

We'd better
go see Doc Fabreek.

I'm Tim Callahan,
and this is my boy--

You almost ran him down.

What are you trying to do,
run those horses into gunfire?

Mind your own business!

Don't get sassy
with Mr. Earp, Dad.

Wyatt Earp, I thought so.

You're the cow town genius--

Don't move that arm
more than you have to.

Just keep
your right hand on it.

Doc's office
is just up the street.

Don't you ignore me!

I haven't started
in on you yet!

If you don't stop jabbering,
I'm going to start in on you.

Now pick up the boy's hat
and let's go.

Come on, Timmy.

Take it easy.

I'm the boy's father,
you understand?

I'm his father!

So I arrive in Wichita,
and what do I find?

A gun battle waging
on the main street,

and my son Timmy
right in the middle of it.

Two of my detectives in jail,

one of them seriously
wounded by Wyatt Earp.

And when I offer
a mild protest,

Mr. Earp threatens me.

Is this the way you
run things in your town?

Your detectives resisted
arrest, Mr. Callahan.

And your son refused to give
his right name and address.

My time is valuable,
and I'm not going to waste it

arguing in a small-time
court like this.

Oh, you're not?

I demand that Earp
be dismissed immediately.

Your wishes
are not law in Wichita.

All right.

Then I charge Earp

with cruel and inhuman
treatment of my son,

if you haven't any
law against that.

And then I'll bring suit
against the city

for civil damages.

I am going to sue you
for $50,000.

Hold on.

Cruel and inhuman
treatment of a child

is punishable under
our criminal code.

Well, well.
I'm astonished.

This court is not interested
in your personal reaction.

Have you any testimony to
present against Marshal Earp?

I most certainly have.

Mr. Becker and Mr. Dean tell me

that Earp forced my son
to ride a dangerous horse.

Then he tied him to a steer,

and allowed the steer
to drag him around.

And then forced him to hoe weeds
in the jail yard for hours.

These are the facts,
your Honor.

That's all wrong, Judge.
That's not the way it happened.

It's all a pack of lies.

Now, now, son.
You keep out of this.

[gavel thumps]
Order.

Uh, step over here, young man.

Surely you're not going
to listen to a mere child

and irresponsible lad
who doesn't --

Sit down, Callahan.

Move over.

Uh, sit down here, son.

Now, Timmy, suppose
you tell the court

whether you've been treated
cruelly or inhumanly

by Marshal Earp.

No, sir, I wasn't.

And did he force you
to ride a dangerous horse?

No, it was all part
of the cowhand school.

Cowhand school?

Mr. Earp runs it
for spoiled kids

who leave home and think
they'd like to be cowhands.

[chuckling]
Oh, I see.

The horse and the little calf,

they were all
part of the lesson.

Hoeing weeds was
part of it, too.

But the best part is

after Mr. Earp gives
the acid test,

he treats you like a man.

He trusts ya.

He doesn't let
servants lock you up

or put detectives
on your trail.

Then you have no complaint

for the way you've been treated
since you've been here?

No, sir.

Can I stay here
with Mr. Earp?

Please, Judge.

Couldn't Mr. Earp
adopt me or something?

Timmy, you don't mean that.

Yes, I do.

Mr. Earp doesn't hate me.

I lied to him
and acted fresh,

but he doesn't hate me.

That's all I want--
just not to be hated.

Timmy, I don't hate you.
I love you.

Why would you say
such a thing as that?

All I've ever wanted to do
was to protect you

and keep you from harm.

Mr. Earp,

I don't know
how to say this,

but I hope
you'll forgive me.

I didn't mean what I said.

Sometimes, a man
just doesn't--
Your Honor,

uh, with the court's
permission, I think that

Mr. Callahan, Timmy, and I
can work this out together.

Very well.

Court's adjourned.

I think this horse
likes me now.

That's the secret,
huh, Mr. Earp?

No, the secret is
that you like the horse.

I sure do.

As soon as my arm gets well,
I'm going to learn

how to ride him
just like Mr. Earp does.

I think it's time Dad learned
how to rope little dogies.

Don't you,
Marshal Earp?
That's right.

All right, Timmy.

Uh, just how do you go about

roping one of them,
uh, dogies?

Well, uh, it's simple.

First, you tie the rope
around your waist.

This one?

All right.

Tie the rope
around him, Mr. Earp.

Well, okay.

Now I'll let
a little dogie out,

and you sit on the fence, Dad.

And then, you drop the loop
around the dogie's neck.

Okay?

[chuckling]
All right.

I'll let
the little dogie out.

Right up here, huh?

That's right.
Right up there.

Well, it seems
very simple to me.

Oh, it is.
Very simple.

I'll get him
the first time out.

[laughing]

Turn that dogie loose.

* Well, he cleaned up
the country *

* The old Wild West country

* He made law
and order prevail *

* And none can deny it

* The legend of Wyatt

* Forever will live
on the trail *

* Wyatt Earp,
Wyatt Earp *

* Brave, courageous
and bold *

* Long live his fame
and long live his glory *

* And long may
his story be told *

* Long may his story

* Be

* Told

* [humming]