Original subtitles

♪♪ [ trumpet ]

Howdy, I'm the Old Ranger,

and Death Valley's my stampin' ground.

Many's a tale of adventure I'm going to tell you

about the Death Valley country.

True stories, mind you.

I can vouch for that.

OLD RANGER: This story is about a man and a maid.

It's laid back in the early 1880s,

in the country through which the 20 mule team

shuttled back and forth between Death Valley

and the little railroad town of Mojave 175 miles away.

In that remote region, a trading post.

Nice trimmed leg.

I've been wondering what they look like.

You're just the kind that would.

Sure, I ain't one to buy no pig in the poke.

Suppose you just stick to buying pigs

and leave me alone.

Ain't you never gonna thaw out, Lori?

What have you got again' me? Nothing.

And I haven't nothing for you, either.

[ howling ]

It's Sal.

Look at the way he rides.

So easy.

All Indians ride that way. It's born in them.

You got back in a hurry, Sal.

Must have been something important in the mail.

There was, Lori. Something real important.

But I can't show it to you here.

Let's go where we can talk.

Now, what is it?

Close your eyes.

No, Sal. No.

You don't like it? I think it's beautiful, but I can't take it.

I don't understand.

I thought you loved me, Lori, like I love you.

Oh, I do, I do.

But I can't marry you, Sal.

I just can't.

Why?

Because I work for your Uncle?

No, that has nothing to do with it.

It's because...

It's because of this.

Because I'm Indian?

But what difference does it make

when the heart inside is the same?

But is it?

An Indian woman knows what an Indian man

is thinking and feeling.

He don't have to say anything. She just knows.

And a white woman knows the same

about a white man, but we...

we'd be strangers underneath.

No, Sal. It's best for like to marry like.

If you knew you felt this way, Lori,

why didn't you tell me before now?

I just couldn't let myself think ahead till now, Sal.

I just kept hoping things would stay

the way they was with us.

My people have a saying.

"Once the arrow has left the bow,

it's too late to correct the aim."

White man would say, "What is done is done."

I'll go pack my things. You're leaving?

Our love has been something that we could be proud of, Lori.

If I stayed, it might become something

that would bring us shame.

Oh, Sal.

So!

This is just the way I figured I'd find you--

little Miss high and mighty making love to a dirty Indian.

No, Sal. Please. I don't want no trouble. Come on.

You'll have trouble whether you want it or not

when your Uncle hears about this.

Here I thought you was something nice and fine.

It just shows you how a gal can fool a fella.

And all the time, you was carrying on with him. Sal.

I'll bet he don't have to worry about buying no pig in the poke.

What does that mean? It don't mean nothing.

Oh, yes it does. It means plenty.

It means she ain't no better than them girls in town,

not even as good 'cause they won't have nothing to do with no Indian.

What in the Devil is going on out here?

This Indian and Lori are sweethearts.

I saw them out behind the rocks.

Why you dirty digger Indian.

With all the whiskey in you, that won't need disinfectant.

Get out of here. I'm getting.

If you lay a hand on Lori,

I'll come back and I'll take care of you.

I'm returning to my people...

but I leave my heart here.

OLD RANGER: And, so, with everything in the white man's world

suddenly fallen to pieces around him,

young Salsipuedes headed back to the Cocopah village

where he'd been raised.

[ speaking native ]

I was on my way to trading post to find you.

Hear me talk. I bring sorrowful news.

Your mother, Weepah, is dead.

Weepah was good mother.

Her love for you was strong,

her last thoughts, of you.

She say to give you this.

It is yours.

White man's ornament.

I've never seen it before.

A white baby.

Joe.

Weepah say to tell you

the truth is on the rock by the wagon wheel.

Truth is on the rock by the wagon wheel.

What rock? What wagon wheel?

Was that all she said?

Her death was sudden.

Her words were few.

I have spoken.

What you don't seem to savvy, Sheriff,

is that that dirty digger Indian

tried to kill me. Salsipuedes is no digger.

He's a Cocopah.

And you ain't told me yet what you was doing

that caused him to throw the knife.

He was pestering my niece, Lori.

I caught him pestering her. That's right.

When I ordered him off the place, he gave me this.

I'll question him when I run across him.

When? Listen, Sheriff--

Meanwhile, I'm looking for somebody else.

You ain't had any suspicious looking customers around lately, have you?

Suspicious? Yeah.

Prospectors with an unnatural amount of money to spend.

[ chuckles ] No such animal around these parts. Why?

Been a lot of mine robbing going on hereabouts.

You mean claim jumping?

These fellas don't bother to jump claims.

They just go in and help themselves to the stuff

while the place is shut down for the hot weather.

Ain't nobody showed up here when they spend money.

Keep an eye out.

I will.

I'll let you know.

[ bird calling ]

Don't you see, Lori?

It's a white baby's locket, all right.

And I'm that baby.

That's my name there. Joe.

If this were so, why didn't Weepah tell you

she wasn't really your mother while she was still alive?

I don't know, but she's told me now...

with this.

And the message she left.

The truth is on the rock by the wagon wheel.

Sounds like a riddle.

But I'll find the answer.

I'll find that rock.

It may take time, but I'll do it.

Only wait for me.

OLD RANGER: From that day on, Salsipuedes turned prospector.

Not hunting for gold or silver like most,

but for the rock that would provide the clue

to his identity.

The proof that he was a white man.

And months of fruitless searching

has gone by, when, one day,

coming around the bend in a canyon...

MAN: Cut it out. Joe!

It's your friend, Sandy.

Joe!

Cut it out, Joe!

It's me!

Cut it out, Joe!

It's your friend, Sandy.

Joe! [ horse approaching ]

Son, I don't know where you come from,

but wherever it is, you sure come just in time.

No!

Don't bring him to.

Not till I get him tied up.

He's loco. Loco?

You mean he's drunk?

No, just plain loco.

From the heat.

And sitting on that seat back yonder day after day

and staring at the wagons ahead.

Sort of like cabin fever.

I've heard stories about this happening.

I sort of figured they were just stories.

Well, it's a lucky thing for me

you had a chance to find out different.

Being a swamper on a 20-mule team

ain't a hard job,

but you got to have the right kind of constitution for it.

There. That'll hold her.

Now you can bring him to.

How are you feeling, Joe?

Still unfriendly, huh?

Couple days' rest in town will fix him up good as new.

Say...

How'd you like to make yourself 10 bucks?

Doing what?

Taking his place on that wagon as swamper

till we get into Mojave.

There's mighty nigh 80,000 pounds on them wheels,

and it takes two men on the breaks going downhill

to keep from running over the mules.

If I do the job good,

can I keep it steady?

Well, son,

after all you've done for me,

there ain't nothing I can say but sure.

My name's Sandy Edwards.

Mine's Joe.

Joe?

No. That won't do.

I don't want any more Joes around me.

Now, let me see...

Bill, Ed... Charlie...

Ike?

Ike. Ike, that's it.

I'll call you Swamper Ike.

Suits me. All right, Ike,

Let's get him in the wagon now and get going. Come on, Joe.

We're going to make you nice and comfortable.

OLD RANGER: By the time they reached Mojave,

Sal, or Swamper Ike as Sandy called him,

had himself a steady job on the big team,

and he had two reasons for wanting it.

It gave him a chance to earn good money,

and a chance, while doing it, to scout the country

between Mojave and Death Valley

in his never ending search for the rock

that held the secret of his identity.

It was desolate country.

For 10 days at a stretch on the 165-mile journey,

they never laid eyes on another human being.

Much of the time, they never even seen each other.

With a teamster riding down on the nigh wheeler,

and his swamper perched on top of the rear wagon

working the break on the down grades.

Dang hot weather will be on us before we know it.

Be back by dark, Sandy.

Ain't you never going to give up

looking for that rock by the wheel?

Never.

All I can say is you sure deserve to find it.

Sandy? Huh?

Did you ever do any praying?

Praying? Me?

That preacher over in Mojave,

he said you can get anything you want

just by praying for it.

You believe there's anything to it?

I don't know,

but you've tried everything else.

Why don't you give it a fling?

I'm going to.

He was standing up on the ridge when I came out of the mine.

What was he doing way out there?

He's swamping for Sandy Edwards on the big team.

Hmm. Think he saw you? No doubt about it,

but whether he recognized me or not, I don't know.

We can't take any chances on that.

The Sheriff's been nosy enough as it is.

Which way was the outfit heading? South.

Well, at the rate that they're traveling,

you won't have any trouble overtaking them

before they get to Mojave.

With them sitting up there on that wagon,

you'd be able to pick them off just as easy as bottles

sitting on a fence post.

Get yourself something to eat.

I'll take care of this load of ore.

OLD RANGER: Across the waste of desert, the big team crawled.

Sandy Edwards at the jerk line,

Swamper Ike atop the rear wagon,

dreaming of Lori,

unaware that, at that very moment,

she was pushing her horse along the route they'd taken

to warn him that Art Crowley was also riding to see him

with murder in mind.

Hey, Sandy, hold it!

Whoa.

Art Crowley's gunning for you, Sal. He aims to kill you.

Kill me? Why? Uncle Fred put him up to it.

They think you saw them stealing gold from Doc Whitley's claim.

Thanks, Lori, for riding all the way out here to warn me.

Might as well sit a spell and rest before you start back.

I'm not going back, Sal. Ever.

I'm staying with you and marrying you.

But I ain't proved nothing about who I am.

You don't need to.

You're you,

and I know now that's all that matters.

Oh, Lori.

Now you two are talking sensible.

But there's just one little obstacle

between you and that preacher,

namely, a fella named Crowley.

Did you hear them say where they plan on holding

this little surprise party? No.

But they talked about shooting you

off the wagon like a bottle off a fence post.

But the only place he could get close enough

to do that'd be when we're going through the canyon.

If I only knew what spot I could pull

a little surprise party of my own.

Yeah, but you don't.

If you go wondering around looking for him,

ten changes to one he'll get you first.

Sandy, you pull ahead to the mouth of the canyon.

Make camp as usual. Take care of Lori.

I'm going to borrow your horse. I'll be back by daylight.

UNCLE FRED: Who's there?

[ approaching footsteps ]

Salsipuedes!

Head for the corral. We're going for a ride.

Where?

You'll find out when you get there. Move!

So, this is where you ran off to.

Well, you don't have to bother to come back.

I'm not aiming to.

I'm staying here and marrying Sal.

Now, where's Crowley?

Crowley?

Why, he's gone to Darwin.

He's not, either.

He's hiding somewheres up the canyon

waiting to shoot Sal.

I heard you and him planning it.

Is that what she told you?

No, Crowley went to Darwin, like I said.

All right, put this on.

What for?

You're going to ride swamper through the canyon.

Swamper...

I don't know nothing about swamping.

You will by the time you get through.

Yes, if Crowley don't get you before you get through.

I told you that Crowley went to Darwin.

Then you got nothing to worry about. Put it on.

You win.

He's up in the canyon.

Where abouts?

Up in the ridge.

About the forth turn.

Tie him up, Sandy.

If I don't come back, put a bullet in him.

Looking for me, Crowley?

[ gunshots ]

[ gunshot ]

Not as easy as shooting a bottle

off a fence post, is it?

[ screams ]

So, you got him, huh?

Got himself.

Slipped and fell.

We heard the shots. I was scared, Sal.

Not Sal. Joe.

Look!

Lori, this is the proof I've been looking for.

The rock with a wheel.

Well I'll be darned.

Indian writing.

What's it say?

Horse. This is a prairie schooner.

This is the death sign.

"White man. White woman.

No water."

And this is the sign for the Cocopah.

A whole band of them came.

They found a white baby.

And this is a heart

with the English word "Joe" on it.

It's your locket, Sal.

I mean, Joe.

Well, by doggies, maybe that preacher was right

about praying for what you want.

Only, it's a little late.

Don't make no difference now.

That's why you never found it before.

It never did make no difference,

and you two had to realize it.

But I still don't know my last name,

I just can't call you Mrs. Joe.

Well, now I've got a middle name

I ain't never used.

I'd be proud to give it to you.

It's Williams.

Mrs. Joe Williams?

How does that sound?

Wonderful.

Mrs. Joe Williams.

♪♪ [ trumpet ]