Original subtitles

I see why they call this place Hell on Wheels.

Rough men, loose women, whiskey, sin, and guns.

It ain't a church social, ma'am.

I'm not sure your bosses at Crédit Mobilier would want me to put that in the newspaper.

What is it that holds you to this enterprise, Mr. Bohannon?

Every piece of steel we lay puts us closer to somewheres else.

That's about all I can say.

So it's more personal than just laying rail.

You're the writer. Ho!

Mr. Bohannon, people of this country

believe the railroad is robbing the National Treasury.

My job is to dissuade my readers of that notion.

Unfortunately, our brief interview was not enough to dissuade me.

And it ain't my job to fix what people think.

In fact, it is.

You are the face of the Transcontinental Railroad now.

And either this is a brave and noble endeavor,

or it's Sodom and Gomorrah.

Which is it?

The sooner you help me accurately report what's going on out here,

the sooner I can leave and make both our lives less miserable.

And for the record, I covered the war '63 to '65.

I know the difference between hell and a church social.

What more you need to see?

Everything-

- Come on then.

♪ She was born in Jackson, baby... ♪

Grading crews work ahead of the tie-layers.

100 miles west, surveyors lay out the route.

- How many men do you have? - Near 3,000.

Work six days a week, sunup, sundown.

$1.50 a day. Them's good wages.

How many miles do you make a day?

Two now, weather and Indians permittin'.

Rust eaters lay the rails.

Walking boss makes sure the gauge is right.

Spiker teams secure the rails to the ground.

Fish-plates tie them together.

Three swings of the hammer per spike,

10 spikes per rail, 400 rails to a mile,

1,500 miles to Sacramento.

Do you really believe you can win the race

against the Central Pacific to build this road?

Wouldn't be here otherwise.

You think you can do it without Thomas Durant's political connections?

Without his money, his ego to drive it on?

Well, here I stand, and here he don't.

- Excuse me. - One more question.

Why you?

Each car sleeps 60 men.

Keeps them out of the weather and close to the work.

Lady coming through!

Who designed these cars?

Mostly me.

Yeah, I'm still working out the ventilation.

Two weeks ago, these men were starving, out of work,

straight off the boats in New York.

My newspaper's reported Irish labor bosses conscripting them out here for a fee.

How is that any different from indentured servitude?

Union Pacific offers free rail passage and a week's wages on arrival.

We got more applicants than we got work.

Really?

Your idea again?

Didn't much care for the labor bosses I met in New York.

New cemetery runs from the sawmill up to the ridge line.

Ain't a day goes by we don't put some one or two

in the ground up there.

Most from railroad mishaps.

And the others?

Spare time mishaps.

Is that where the fair-haired maiden of the west is buried?

No, she's buried in a wildflower field she liked.

- Did you know her? - A bit.

Well, you must've known her better than that

if you knew where she wanted to be buried.

Mrs. Bell should've left Hell on Wheels when she had the chance.

This ain't no place for a lady.

Less'n she's a whore.

I can assure you, Mr. Bohannon, I am neither a lady, nor a whore.

Figured you'd have to be a little bit of both, being a newspaper woman.

Get outta here.

You figured wrong.

You Bohannon?

I am.

Keep your railroad off my property.

I won't tell you again.

Where'd they come from?

No idea.

Train for Omaha leaves in an hour.

I expect you won't wanna miss it.

Howdy.

Who are you?

You come pawin' around for turmoil, you best think twice, friend.

- This is my office. - Mr. Ferguson.

Dick Barlow. Just arrived from Omaha.

Didn't Mr. Bohannon tell you to expect me?

No.

What you want in here?

Well, I can tell by looking, you ain't short a hat size,

so I guess you know.

I'm new Chief of Railroad Police.

You work for me now.

Coffee?

My grandpap taught me how to make it.

The trick is not to over-boil.

And, of course, the sock.

Now, I use a clean one.

But pap swore the riper the sock, the richer the brew.

I like a dollop of fresh cream in mine,

but it ain't real regular I come across it.

And kicking don't get you nowhere, less'n you're a mule.

So mostly, I just take mine black.

Mr. Bohannon ain't said nothing about me working for nobody.

Well, it ain't no good cold now.

Go on.

That's it.

That'll get your hair out of the butter every time.

Don't want no trouble.

- Came to talk. - What about?

Think you know.

Come ahead.

You survived the war?

- I did. - You a Johnny Reb?

Yes, sir. Yeah, I was.

So you know a little about what it's like, somebody comes, takes your land.

Everything I had's been took.

Indians killed my father and my brother, his wives and kids.

My wives and I, we buried 'em on the same hill

I pulled our surveyor stakes out of.

My family bled for this land, Mr. Bohannon,

carved this place out of a wilderness nobody wanted.

It is by Heavenly Father's decree

that we are here, and it shall be by His will,

not yours, that we leave.

Even God can't stop the railroad, Mr. Hatch.

It would destroy all we built,

take away our home.

You have my word.

You'll get a square deal.

Now, now, that's the best I can do.

- Could go around. - Boy.

Ain't nothin' but wilderness and Lamanites out here, Father.

I said that's enough.

You will excuse my son's manners.

He's got some growing still to do.

Tell you what. Urn...

Let me see if my surveyors can't find a way around.

Now, that... that's not a promise...

if it can't be done, you'll still have to move.

But... it don't cost nothing to try.

Well, a journey through these lands

at this hour is a foolish one, Mr. Bohannon.

You are welcome to stay till morning.

Much obliged.

Seen me a Mormon man killed once.

Liberty, Missouri...

During the war.

As if them white folk didn't have enough to fight about,

county sheriff run him through with a sword

on account of him being a "Palgemist".

Yep, they didn't like them no "Palgemists" in Liberty, Missouri.

Like they Mormons didn't like them no negroes.

Yeah, they a nasty bunch.

I think you mean polygamist.

What'd I say?

"Palgemists".

I knew it was something like that.

Why a man gotta get hisself killed over being a polygamist?

It's the custom of having more than one wife at the same time.

More than one wife, you say?

At the same time?

Well, damn. No wonder they nasty.

Sand, mud, lime.

Soil like that no good for the grade, boss.

Take a lot of lumber to build.

Yeah, rock wall be better, but that take time,

and rock, which we ain't got.

I've surveyed several routes through here, Mr. Bohannon.

Sand hills stretch at least 100 miles to the north.

We'd have to go south to get around that farm.

- How far? - 40 mile, maybe more.

40 mile'll put us behind schedule by five weeks.

Yes, sir.

I met the new police chief.

You ain't happy, track runs both ways.

Where's the livestock? It's complicated.

Tell you what's complicated, son, 3,000 hungry men.

What I mean is, I've been on the job for two days.

And deciphering these books is quite the task.

Near as I can tell, Mr. Durant formed several companies

to supply livestock to the railroad.

Now that he's departed,

the contracts have been... canceled.

Then find some other damn place, Sean.

Council Bluffs, Denver, shit, Chicago...

I would, um, but it seems that Mr. Durant has,

in addition to canceling our contracts with his companies,

cornered the market on livestock in Omaha as well.

Shit!

Should've killed that son of a bitch when I had the chance.

May I quote you on that, Mr. Bohannon?

You don't say nothing to her about railroad business, you hear me?

Yes, sir.

- Still here? - Missed my train.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

We missed you at services this morning, Mr. Bohannon.

Was there something I can help you with?

Thought I'd look in is all.

You gave us a good place...

High, dry ground, upwind of the slaughterhouse.

- Thank you. - It's good. It's good for the men, I mean.

' And you?

Sorry...

Railroad has to move a family of homesteaders off their land.

They're digging in. And, they're Mormon.

I wonder if you've had any cause to know what they might be like as people.

The Latter Day Saints are not a legitimate Church of Christ.

They treat their women as slaves. They take child brides.

They're a violent people.

They'll fight then, you think?

It has been their way. Yes.

They got children with 'em.

Then you'll find another way.

By God's grace.

God's been slack with the grace of late.

Then show them yours, Mr. Bohannon.

What I'm proposing is a major new commercial hub,

the most important railroad city in the United States.

And it will be right here, in your backyard.

That is literally my backyard.

You see that pretty confluence of good sweet-water streams?

Well, it ain't much, but it's on my land.

My husband left me all of this when he passed in '62.

Well, it may be your land now, madam,

but the Union Pacific Railroad will reach it before the year is out.

And, through eminent domain, they will claim it.

That's against the law.

It is the law.

And by law, the Union Pacific is compelled to offer you

a fair market price for your land, currently $1.50 an acre.

- I'd never sell for that. - And you won't have to.

Because as a representative and major stockholder of Credit Mobilier,

I am prepared to offer you $100 per acre,

thus waiving eminent domain.

- What's the rub? - Well...

In order to waive eminent domain,

we must build a railroad terminus

and a town on the property, which we will.

Every pound of beef, every ton of ore,

every fruit, vegetable, every bale of hay from either side of the Mississippi...

must ship through our town.

You will become rich beyond your wildest dreams.

- Weren't you in jail just a month ago? - Yes.

And you're broke, according to the newspapers.

- Flat broke. - How do you expect to pay us

for our property then? From construction funds

advanced to me by the Union Pacific Railroad.

You were kicked off Union Pacific for stealing.

Union Pacific, Crédit Mobilier,

different pockets to the same pair of pants.

When the judge understood that, I was released.

You're in Omaha now, New York. Money won't buy you judges here.

Opportunity is a powerful elixir, Mrs. Palmer.

Right.

So you're borrowing money you don't have

from a company you don't work for to buy property you can't afford

to build a city that doesn't exist.

Spearheading, as it were, a new way of doing business in America.

If all difficulties were known

at the outset of a long journey, Mr. McGinnes,

few of us would ever embark at all.

A whiskey for my young friend.

Have you got the money?

I'm very uneasy about this.

If Mr. Bohannon finds out... You are doing nothing wrong.

You are managing railroad funds, and you are managing them well.

Have you got something else for me?

This is the, telegraph routing code for the Union Pacific.

You'll be able to eavesdrop on all of Mr. Bohannon's business.

Excellent.

Will you be paying me today, Mr. Durant?

All in due time, Mr. McGinnes.

Don't look so glum.

My current situation is but a temporary setback.

History always sides with a winner.

- Where are you off to so fast? - Excuse me, I...

Urn...

Stop, no. Let me go.

- Give us a kiss first. - What?

_.

Wait, wait, wait, wait. Please, please.

Not like this. Let's go to my room?

I got us a bottle we can share.

Touch me again, it'll be your throat!

Bloody whore.

My grandpap, a dough puncher from way back,

taught me surest way to a woman's heart by way of her stomach.

By God, if that wasn't certain with my Tess.

You married, Mr. Ferguson?

Some could call it that.

Kids?

Got me a new baby girl.

Nothing like a new baby to make a man count his blessings

and keep them close.

I got five youngsters, all girls, if you want to know.

The oldest one's 12 going on 40.

That little girl of mine, she beautiful.

I look in her eyes, and she melt my heart.

But her mama afraid this job gonna get me killed.

She think that baby ain't gonna have no daddy to bring her up.

How's the coffee?

It's better the second day.

It's the sock.

Need you boys to ride out and tell them homesteaders

there's no way around the land.

This here's the writ of eminent domain.

Let them know the government pays $1.50 an acre.

Railroad will throw in another dollar.

Let 'em know that's more than fair, all right?

- Yes, sir. - You do the talking.

Mormons ain't keen on negroes.

Finish your coffee, Mr. Ferguson.

I got to visit the necessary. Then we'll be on our way.

They said he was a hell-raiser,

but my pap was a lazy son of a bitch by the time I knew him.

Fact, one time when I was... Don't you ever stop talking?

No, sir, I do not.

Out here, a quiet man is twice as likely as a noisy one

to have his beard clung to by a bear.

I intend to keep my scalp.

Maybe they're gone. No, they ain't gone.

Horses still in the barn.

Keep your gun close.

You see our cinch getting frayed, start shooting.

Hello!

Anybody home?!

Mr. Hatch?!

State your business!

I'm Dick Barlow, Chief of Police, Union Pacific Railroad!

Think you know why we're here!

I already told the other one, we ain't leaving!

You ain't got any choice!

That's what we come to tell you.

We ain't afraid to fight for what's ours!

You best leave on out of here now!

Threatening us ain't gonna get us no...

Barlow!

What...

I need 75,000 ties delivered 25 miles beyond the end of the rails

before the first of the month, 100 barrels of blasting powder.

- Make sure we got enough Wranglers... - Eva!

When they get here...

from Denver.

' Eva!

What happened?

- The Mormons shot him. - Shit.

Careful, careful. I got his legs.

' Eva!

Eva, we need you!

Elam, the baby!

You're the closest thing we got to a doctor.

Go get me some onion broth.

YOu!

Go to the hotel restaurant, get me some onion broth now. Go!

- Was it the old man or the boy? - I don't know for certain.

- Certain you don't know? - Told you I don't know.

I know for certain there's a man lying here with a bullet in him.

- I just told you I ain't seen him. - Will you two stop it?

Shut that baby up.

Excuse me.

Here.

Prop him up. Get him up.

Drink the medicine.

Yeah, I can smell the onion broth through the wound.

He's gut-shot, Elam.

He ain't gonna make it.

Take that damn baby outside.

No, wait.

Bring her here.

Bring her over here. Please.

Let me see her.

Please let me see her.

She's beautiful, Mr. Ferguson.

Just like you said.

You wanted it.

Not like this.

Well?

All right. Telegraph the fort.

Tell the major we need help evicting them homesteaders.

You want a railroad story?

Follow me.

Mr. Hatch!

This is Cullen Bohannon of the Union Pacific Railroad!

I have a writ of execution here for the killing of my Chief of Police!

Come on out!

You don't, and these soldiers will burn you out!

I won't be able to stop them!

You got one minute, Mr. Hatch!

United States Cavalry was not built for waiting.

We didn't come here to kill women and children.

A disorganized brain is lacking in moral principles.

Are you aware of that, Bohannon?

Not something I ponder nights.

Moral principles are the first line of defense against criminal behavior.

You learn something new every day.

Without moral principles,

these Mormons will inevitably turn to violence

to solve their problems, just like the heathens.

Am I right about that, chief?

What he talking about?

Y'all keep your barrels down.

You and your boys, put your guns down!

I told you, stay off my property or there'll be hell to pay!

And I told you if I couldn't find a way around,

the U.S. Government would rightfully claim its land!

You murdered my Chief of Police.

He was trespassing! He was warned!

You have to stand accountable.

I am the priesthood holder of my family, Mr. Bohannon.

Without me... they will not survive.

You should've thought about that before you pulled that trigger.

They won't survive.

I'll see to it they get to the Mormon settlement at Fort Smith. How's that?

- He done it! - Father?

Did you kill that man, son?

Tell me the truth now.

Yes, sir.

Mr. Ferguson, this boy shoot Dick Barlow?

I ain't sure.

Good God, man, get on with it.

You'd have me hang him?

It's the law, Bohannon.

You said so yourself, and you are obliged to uphold it.

We do not make exceptions to the law out here.

You realize he'll hang.

He's just a boy.

- You're gonna tell me the truth. - I told you the truth!

Son, you got a different story, you best tell me right now.

He's just a boy.

Not today he ain't.

All right.

Father.

Come here.

- Father! - Come on, boy.

- Come on. - Easy.

Father!

Father!

Sorry, son.

"Life on the prairie is not worth the powder it takes

to blow it all to hell."

So say the denizens of Hell on Wheels,

the rollicking tent city

that moves with the transcontinental railroad as it creeps across the country

at a pace of two miles per day.

It is no place for women or children,

as the men who labor here,

veterans of the recent conflict, immigrants, and free negroes,

often take to drink and un-Christian pursuits

when not swinging a hammer or laying track.

Every man here carries a gun,

which can be had for as little as $3,

and a knife, and goes to church on Sunday.

Here you can buy a meal for 35 cents,

a beer for less than a quarter,

a suit of clothes for $5 that includes a hat.

The belongings of the dead are cheaper than that.

Any last words, son?

I came here to meet the man who replaced Doc Durant

as Chief Engineer of the Union Pacific Railroad.

I can tell you he is a man for whom honor is sacred,

and virtue impermanent.

In the brave new wilderness he calls home,

integrity is important to Cullen Bohannon.

Whether a man of integrity is what's needed

to build the railroad, we don't yet know.

The railroad has always been the business of the unscrupulous and corrupt.

You owe me a life...

for the one you took from me today.

I suspect our new Chief Engineer to be neither.

And for that, dear reader, we might all count our blessings...

and say a prayer.

CNST, Montreal