All language subtitles for 1923.S02E03.en

I am needed in Montana.

My wife is lost to me.

It's a war over my family's
land, and I'm losing it.

Get my whiskey to Fort Worth,

and you can get back in time
to save it.

No!

I swear, girl,
if it weren't for bad luck,

you'd have none at all.

No! Oh!

This isn't living.

This is surviving.

When the storm passes,
I'm going home.

Is there a marshal
present who does field work?

Just the one you're looking at.

We seek a murderer

we believe has fled
to the Comanche nation.

We should move.

Zane,
we're taking your family home.

They've been released.

We gotta flip the wagon!

Let's go look for the horses.

These kids are gonna
freeze to death.

We need a fire.

You ain't gonna find
any wood to burn out here.

- Use the wagon.
- If I use the wagon,

I got nothing to get you out in.

I ain't getting out
of this anyway.

You will not talk like that,
you hear me?

Don't quit on them, Zane.

They didn't quit on you.

Burn the wagon.

We'll ride out.

You can't ride.

I can sleep horseback.

Ain't nothing to sittin' on one.

All right, then.
Hang in there, huh?

Let's get this over with.

Darlin', you'll die
if you don't get them.

You don't know that.

You don't know
that it was rabid.

We know.

Wolves run from men.

They don't seek them,
they don't attack them.

They don't come
into their homes.

Madness drove this animal.

And it will drive you
to your death.

It's driving me already.

This is not madness,
this is fear.

And you need to overcome it.

No, no, no, no, no, please.

No! Please! No!

Please don't make me.

- Just sit, little miss.
- No!

- Please, no!
- We got-- Yeah, we got--

- Let go of me!
- Grab her! Grab her leg!

I suppose you'd have me
shoot you in the living room.

Like an animal
driven wild with fever.

The world is not a fair place,

as you've surely realized
by now.

But it has been
far kinder to you

than to the woman lying in
the back of Dr. Miller's buggy.

That I can assure you.

Now you're a woman.

Whether you're ready
to be one is debatable,

but a woman you are.

It's time to act like it.

Now, lay back.

I'll stand.

Leave us.

Lift your gown.

I'm making a stew.

I'll call when it's ready.

Good morning.
This is your captain speaking.

New York Harbor is in view,
and we will be docking shortly.

Please collect
your personal belongings

and your travel documents.

First and second class passengers,

please muster on the upper deck.

Tourist class on the main deck.

Thank you.

Attention on deck.

You will follow me off the ship

and follow the U.S. Immigration
officers to the ferry

docked at the bow.

What ferry?

Ferry to where?

Immigrant processing
at Ellis Island, ma'am.

Why must we be processed and
they're free to wander the city?

Because they secured their

travel documents
at the U.S. Embassy

in London prior to departure.

Had you done the same,
you'd be free to wander as well.

Follow me, please.

You will walk single file
behind me.

Walk off.

Single file.

Walk straight ahead.

- Speak English?
- Of course I speak English.

I am English.
We invented it.

Got a special boat
for people who give us lip.

Takes you right back where
you came from. Open your mouth.

- Say, "Ah."
- Ah.

Deep breath in.

Hold it.

Down to your right.

Name?

Alexandra.

Last name?

- Alexandra of Sussex.
- Is "Sussex" your last name?

Sussex is the region
where my family's from.

I didn't ask where you were
from. I asked your last name.

Dutton.

Alexandra Dutton.
That's your name?

That is my name, yes.

What's your business in
the United States, Miss Dutton?

I'm meeting my husband
in Montana.

- Bozeman, Montana.
- He lives in Montana?

- Yes.
- Is he from Sussex, as well?

He's American.

Did he not secure you
travel papers for your journey?

We became separated
in Marseille.

He must journey here
on another vessel.

Are you unwell?

Scared.

The soldier said
pregnant women cannot come in.

They send us back.

Why didn't they tell us that
before we book passage?

Why won't they let you in?

Because I am two mouths to feed
with no means to work.

I can work.

Women have been working
with baby at breast

since Christ was in the cradle.

Dutton.

- Date of birth?
- The first of April, 1901.

Set your belongings down, please.

Remove your coat.

Any cough, fever,
rashes, nausea?

- None.
- See the stool to your left.

Will you step up on the stool
for me, please?

Step down, please.

Can you bend over,
keeping your legs straight,

and pick the stool up?

What would be
the medical purpose of that?

The medical purpose would be
to see if you can do it.

America has no need
for mongrels or invalids.

Raise it above your head.

Very well.

If you would disrobe, please.

Remove your clothing.

It is not a request,
Miss Dutton.

It is a requirement.

Turn around, please.

Arms out.

Sit on the table, please.

Deep breath in.

I already did this.

You didn't do it for me.

Exhale.

Lungs are clear,
heartbeat normal.

Reflexes normal.

Lie back on the table, please.

Open your legs.

Gives me no joy to look
between the legs

of another mick immigrant

in search for venereal diseases,

which I find
at an alarming rate.

It seems the whole of Ireland
is inflicted with them.

You will not.

Then back to the ocean you go.

Close your legs.

Something you forgot to tell me.

You're pregnant.

And they wonder
why we check them.

Note her chart.

What did you write on me?

I'm noting your pregnancy
for the next examiner.

There's another one?

There's three.

Can I get dressed?

Not yet.

Stand for me, please.

Arms out.

Face me.

Did you know you were pregnant?

I knew.

How many months?

Four, I think.

Sit on the table.

Fetch me a speculum, please.

Deep breath in.

You need to stop crying.

Sit here.

Got any food?

You, blondie.

Do you have any food
in that fancy bag?

- No.
- No?

No crisps, no biscuits,
no nothing?

I have no food.

You got to buy your way in,
you know that, don't you?

Or trade your way
if you got no coins to spare.

How are you set for coins?

What I have or don't have
is none of your concern.

Trade, then.

With that face, I know
what he'll want for passage.

What's your last name?

Just trying to find out
if you're before me or after me.

Pregnant.

Looks like you've
already been trading

with some lucky bloke.

Give that back.

Maybe the officer
won't mind biting

from a used loaf of bread.

Collins.

I hope you brought
plenty of coins, love,

'cause I'm gonna work
all the trade right out of him.

Dutton.

Dutton?

That's me.

Have a seat.

State your purpose in America.

I'm joining my husband
at his ranch in Montana.

His ranch?

Yes.

Cattle ranch.

That is correct.

I suppose this rancher
is tall and handsome

and walks with a slight limp

from some war wound received

while ridding the great plains
of savages and thieves.

Think you're the first woman
to come through this office

with a dime store novel
and a dream?

America is not
the land of dreams.

It is the land of opportunity.

Opportunity is something
that must be seized.

It must be earned.

In short, you must work.

You question my honesty, sir?

Questioning your honesty
is my job.

Do you have a marriage license?

Right.

A land of opportunity
can only exist

if those who seek
a better life in America

are willing and able
to work for it.

America needs
another beggar or prostitute

like it needs
another Spanish flu.

How do you plan
to earn a living?

I will work,

alongside my husband
and his family.

Enough with the fucking husband.

If you had a husband,
he would be with you.

What kind of husband buries
his bride in the hull of a ship

alone for a month

with the rats and the peasants?

America runs ads inside
every newspaper of London.

Boasting of the endless
opportunity here.

The welcoming arms of America

"Give us your tired,
your poor,

your huddled masses
yearning to breathe free,

the wretched refuse
of your teeming shore.

Send these,

the homeless,

tempest-tost to me.

I lift my lamp
beside the golden door."

A sonnet by Emma Lazarus

donated to raise money
for the platform

your Statue of Liberty rests on.

A statue

which stares down on you...

...as you strip us
of our dignity...

...and inspect us like cattle.

You regard me with no decency
or compassion,

all in the name of preserving

a freedom I've seen
no example exists.

In fact, I would say
this is the least free

I have ever felt in my life.

If you wish to deny me entry...

...deny it.

But deny it with some courtesy.

You must display some
marketable skills to gain entry.

Do you have any?

Define a marketable skill.

Can you read?

I can read.

Prove it.

Whitman.

Just start from the beginning.

I'm seeking a passage
with a bit more relevance

to our current situation.

Ah, here it is.

"Oh, while I live to be

a ruler of life, not a slave.

And nothing exterior of me
shall ever take command of me.

Re-examine all that you've
been told and dismiss

that which insults your soul."

Which is exactly what
I will be doing with you,

regardless of your decision.

You have lipstick on your neck.

You might want to remove that

before you head home
to the missus.

W-Welcome to America.

Pardon me?

Where may I find
the train station?

- Where are you trying to go?
- West.

- Montana.
- Montana? Where is that?

Good question.

Do you sell maps?

Not to Montana.

How about the whole country?

Uh...

- Here it is, look.
- It's far.

It ain't close.

Looks like it takes you up
through Chicago

to Minneapolis, to Fargo

to Bismarck, up to Billings.

- Where in Montana?
- Uh...

Bozeman.

You need to get up
to Grand Central Terminal.

Where is that?

Uptown.

Too far to walk.

Take a cab.

Cabs are expensive.

Not as expensive as getting
that bag stolen.

You're a pretty lady.

You might as well

carry a sign
that says "tourist."

This city ain't easy
on tourists.

Hide your money in your shoe.

Keep your eyes open.

Don't wander any empty streets.

And the nicer somebody's being,

the less you can trust 'em.

You're being nice.

I'm too old to be anything else.

Grand Central for the lady.

I'm keeping the map.

- Thank you.
- All right. Go on, now.

Where you headed?

Meeting a friend.

Destination?

Bozeman, ultimately.

- Montana?
- Yes.

Hmm.
This is going to be a trick.

I believe it's through...

...Minneapolis, then Bismarck.

You know what it's going to be
like up there this time of year?

Hope you got a fur coat
and gloves tucked in that bag.

I'm from England, thank you.

I'm no stranger to cold.

Lady, that ain't cold.

But you are traveling to it.

You want a sleeper car,
I assume.

Please.

Solo or shared?

How much is a solo?

It's a hundred twenty-four
and 50 cents.

How much is shared?

Ninety-two.

If you can spare the extra 30,

I highly recommend it.

You could end up bunked

with an Irish woman
and six screaming rug rats,

or worse,
if there is such a thing.

I can't spare it, I'm afraid.

You'll have to rebook
in Billings for Bozeman.

I can't secure that leg
from here.

It's too much risk
of snowdrifts shutting the line.

When do I depart?

I got you on a 10:55 via Boston.

Why Boston?

Because of that pesky thing

to the west
called the Hudson River.

I could send you
down through Philadelphia,

but that means a change,

and you don't want
to be in Philadelphia

in a train station
at 2:00 in the morning.

Hmm.

Put that
somewhere different now.

Every pickpocket in the terminal
just saw your hiding place.

Is there a restaurant
in the terminal?

Oyster Bar, upstairs.

I suppose I should hide this, too.

You should absolutely hide it.

No pickpockets in London?

Depends where you are.

Don't matter where
you are here, ma'am.

A young woman traveling alone.

Don't wait on the platform.

You wait up here till you see
the porters and other passengers

- move this way.
- Thank you.

Afternoon.

Cowboy rode by our camp,
looking for strays.

Didn't know we was camped
on someone's land.

Figured it'd be best
say we was there.

We could leave if you like.

Or help you look for strays,
then leave.

Well, if you're gonna hunt up
some strays,

you can camp there
as much as you want

and draw a wage
while you're doing it.

How many's in your crew?

No crew.

Just my daughter
and a boy I look after.

Whereabouts you camped?

Where the river bends like
a snake, in a narrow valley.

Red rocks on one side,
timber on the other.

Yeah.

Well, you're down in it.

When we start to drive,
we're gonna push to that valley,

then take 'em east
onto the Llano Estacado

and run 'em right into
the rail yard there in Claude.

We're gonna start first thing,

so once you start seeing them
cattle filter into that valley,

go ahead
and hold 'em right there,

and we'll run 'em
right across that river.

Ah.

We could do that.

You hungry?

Should get back to my people.

See you in the morning.

Says two lawmen
and a priest did this.

Did it to the boy's parents
at their homesite, too.

Priest?

You know them?

I know 'em.

They move east.

Tell these men to leave
the justice to us.

He said,
"Justice isn't what they seek.

If it's justice you want,

you need to find them first,

because they'll give them
something else."

What's with the horse?

Belonged to one of the boys.

They should give it
to the family.

They did.

Where are we?

Uh, town of Shamrock.

Should be ten miles that way.

Uh, that's Texas.

All these Comanche are starving.

Starving on a plain,
starving at the fort.

They travel a thousand miles
to starve.

What's the only job in America
they don't care

the color of your skin
or what's 'tween your legs?

Mine.

Cowboys. They don't care.

Man, woman, Indian.

Can you ride?
That's all that matters.

Mexico is where they'll head.

They need some money
to get there.

I say we check out cow camps,

get to Amarillo,
make sure that bitch's face

is on every corner post.

I must get her remains to town.

One shot a day, Mrs. Dutton.

- If you miss even one--
- I won't.

I won't miss one.

I know the process troubles you.

That's not what troubles me,
Doctor.

They should be home by now.

Snow hampers travel.

They should be home.

Shouldn't we all?

Seems you have one less worry!

There's no buggy.
There's something wrong.

You're late.

Storm caught us.

That the doctor?

- Yeah.
- How did you know

- to call him for us?
- I didn't call him for you.

This winter just won't end.

I need everyone out.

Took a knock to the head.

I took a few.

Headaches?

It's worse when I sit up.

Show me where it hurts.

Nauseous?

Yes, sir.

Follow my finger with your eyes.

- Vision blurred?
- It comes and goes.

Oh. Does it hurt

when I touch it?

- No more than usual.
- Oh.

When, uh, someone suffers

a severe brain injury,

fluid-- blood-- can build up
and cause swelling.

It's called acute hematoma.

But when the swelling
is delayed,

showing up a week or more later,

it's an subdural hematoma.

It builds up against your skull
and pushes against the brain.

So, what do you do?

We must drain it.

And this is not
the place to do it.

They should have done it
at the hospital.

They weren't doing much
at the hospital.

Clearly.

I must drill into his skull

and suction out
the blood, but...

I don't have the supplies
or the staff.

Won't go away on its own?

On its own, it will kill him.

Oh, I guess we ought
to find you a drill, Doc.

Well, I have a drill...

but I have no anesthesia.

Let me have a word with him.

Zane, we got some good news
and some bad news.

Good news is,

there is a way
to get you better.

Uh...

Doc has to, uh, drill a hole,

uh, relieve the pressure.

That's the good news?

Compared to the bad news, it is.

What's the bad news?

What are you doing?

I'm packing.

Where are you going?

Back East.

- Can you tell me why?
- This place is why.

This life is why.

Cara said that I had to want,

I had to want more than the man,

that I must want
the life, and...

I want no part of it.

What about for better
or for worse?

Nowhere in our vows did it say
to live in this frozen hell

and fight for my life
at every turn.

It's your turn for worse.

If you want to be my husband,
be him in Boston.

This is my home.

It's not mine.

This place has made that clear.

Honey, it's time.

Jack, you should step out.

No, let him watch.

You're getting
much better at this.

Eight more and
I'm done with this place.

Sorry, Jack.

She told me to.

Where was that in our vows?

You ever see so many cows?

I have.

Where are there more?

I don't know if there's more,
but Montana has its share.

Look how fat.

Everything in America is fat.

The cows, the bugs, the people.
Whole place.

I'll be in a skinny country
soon enough.

In Sicily, everyone is skinny, starving.

Only the grandmothers are fat.

I don't know why.

Aren't they the cooks?

Too much sampling.

Sounds like the problem.

You can't change that, though.

Never trust a skinny cook.

Let me see that map.

I think this is
where we meet the pavement.

That's the road to Fort Worth.

You think maybe a wreck,
up ahead?

I think it's a roadblock.

- We have money for that.
- I'm gonna get eyes on them.

Shit.

What are you doing?

It's a roadblock.

My cousin, he gave us money
for the roadblock.

I have the money.

He also gave us pistols
for those who don't accept it.

We have to find another road.

Turn right up here.

Another right.

We stay on this for a while.
Going to be a big loop.

We have to get rid
of this truck.

It will be fine.

I'm not dying for
a bunch of fucking booze.

We sit here, wait till dark,
then keep moving.

We have a head start.

They will never catch us.

They don't even know
where to look.

Keep driving.

Drive.

You out of your mind?

After all the shit you suffered
through to get here,

this is what you do?
Be a bagman for your cousins?

My cousins came from nothing.

And look what they built.

They are sharing it with me!

This isn't sharing with you.
This is getting rid of you.

You got two choices.

Walk with me to a train station

or take your chances
with this truck.

They're my family.

Right or wrong,

they are family.

Look what you do
for your family.

Best of luck.

- I need my pistol.
- No, you don't.

I can't defend myself
without it.

Can't defend yourself with it.

I need it. Please.

I highly recommend not using it.

My dearest Spencer,

I have reached New York.

Soon, I board a train
for Billings.

In a week's time,
I shall stand on your doorstep.

I dream of mountains now.

I dream of snow
and a fire to warm us.

It has been months

since I have tasted your lips
or felt the fire of your touch.

And yet it is this last week
that seems the most unbearable.

Are we not done proving
that we have earned each other?

What calamity awaits
to keep me from you?

What fresh hell
has the devil devised?

I suppose it is not
anticipation at all.

It is fear.

It is absolute terror

that the world will not
let me have you.