All language subtitles for wanted_dead_or_alive_s01e02_fatal_memory

Morning. You look like you've been
cutting a hard trail.

How far is it to Fort Considine?

Oh, about eight miles due east.

Thanks. Hey, wait a minute.

You sure you want Fort Considine? Is
that wrong?

Well, the soldiers pulled out of there
years ago.

Nothing there but the wind and the
echoes.

Even the coyotes are lonesome up there.

Eight miles.

Thanks.

Colonel Sykes?

Colonel Sykes?

Let's find out mister.

Drop it

I'll

use it I swear I will.

Guess you would.

I'll kick it away.

What do you want here?

I was invited.

What's your name?

Josh Randall.

Who sent for you?

The message was from Colonel John J.
Sykes, retired, formerly the Army of the

Confederacy. Now, that's what you want
to hear?

It's not enough.

Well, it's enough for me, lady. I had a
lot of dust to get here, and I'm not

about to play games.

Let me see it.

What? The telegraph message.

I didn't say it was the telegraph
message.

Please.

Please, I just got to be sure.

Just toss it over to me.

Sorry, Mr. Randall.

I just can't trust anybody.

Not now.

Who are you, miss?

Jody Sykes.

I sent this message for my father.

Where's the colonel?

He's in there.

Been a long time, Colonel.

You can drop that colonel talk.

I haven't worn a uniform since the day
after Appomattox. Well, you look spiny

ever, sir. You think so?

Take another look.

Went through four bloody years of war
with hardly a scratch.

Had to retire to get this.

How'd it happen, sir?

Show him, Jody.

Wanted for murder.

$1 ,000 reward for the capture, dead or
alive, of Colonel John J. Sykes.

What kind of foolishness is this?

Do you believe that, Randall?

I sure don't want to, Colonel.

There's a federal seal on it from the U
.S. Marshal's office.

It's a fake.

A vicious trick to kill an innocent man.

You got no law in town.

Jody wired the Marshal last night.

Well, he'll round up the posters, put an
end to it. But he's coming from Tucson,

and that's three or four days away. My
father could be dead by that time.

This country's crawling with bounty
hunters, Randall.

You know what they can be like.

I'm one of them, sir.

No, I'm talking about the money -hungry
buzzards with the itchy fingers.

Kind of did that?

No, this came from a ranch hand after a
job.

He saw that poster in town and came back
with gold dust in his eyes.

Pretty soon that poster will be pinned
to every tree in this territory.

And my father won't have a chance.

He can't even ride with that knee.

All right, Jody.

You've got to help us, Mr. Randall.

There's just no one else.

Somebody wanted you dead, Colonel.
Didn't have the guts to do it himself.

During the war, every man on the
regiment felt he had a right to hate me.

Not like this.

This is a simmering kind of hate.

Somebody wrote these up, took them to a
printer, paid good money to put a target

on your back.

No self -respecting printer would take a
job like that.

Can't be more than two or three printers
in this part of the country.

There's a newspaper in town. He must do
job printing.

That's Victor Flam's paper. He's a good
friend.

He's got a hand press, hasn't he? He's
got no reason. He wants to earn a

Now, wait, Randall. Victor Flam's... I
know he's a friend, but he's the only

lead we've got.

Jody, you take care of your father now,
yeah?

Well, what did you find at the port?

This.

Oh, come in, son. My eyes are not as
good as they used to be.

John Sykes?

Why, ridiculous.

He doesn't think so. That poster almost
got him killed.

Do you have any more around?

What do you mean by that?

You're the only printer in town, Mr.
Flam.

Now listen, mister.

John Sykes is a friend of mine.

I wouldn't print his name on a reward
poster if the order came from the

president himself.

Whoever ordered this poster is one foot
for murder. The printer's guilty of

forging a federal seal.

What's your interest in this?

John J. Sykes.

This isn't my work.

Cheap stock, cheaper ink, and look at
these margins.

I'm not interested in margins.

Well, I am.

That's my business.

When I lock up a type tray, it says
straighter than a schoolteacher at a

table.

Anyone else use that press?

You have any help?

Well, once in a while.

Tramps, mostly.

They come and they go.

They work long enough to buy a bottle of
smiles, then they ride out of town

spouting bad poetry and big lies.

Where would a tramp printer go from
here?

Well... Closest place is about 30 miles.

Hang three flats.

Hey, what... Don't worry, you'll get it
back.

Afternoon, ma 'am.

Sorry.

Looking for somebody?

Are you the boss?

That's right. My name's Randall. Josh
Randall. Can I ask yours?

Willie Joe Weems. What's on your mind?
Words, Mr. Weems. Words to engrave on

face of eternity. Words to free the
soul.

Words to stain the fingertips.

Print is devil, huh? At your service.
And very reasonable, too.

Now, just a minute. You ain't been hired
yet.

Learned my trade at the elbows of Horace
Greeley. Ain't a tramp printer alive

can tell the truth.

Would you like to see a recent example
of my work?

Your work, huh?

Well, true, the margins are a little
untidy, but the side of the type tray

warped in the sun.

I got all the help I need.

Nobody likes that poster.

Not even the United States Marshal.

What are you after?

Looks like I found it.

I think you better get moving. Suppose
you tell me why.

Make tracks, Randall.

I want to hear about those posters.

You printed it. Who paid for it?

Tell me about that

poster.

Wait.

It wasn't my idea. I swear it wasn't.
Whose was it?

I can't tell. I'd get a bullet in the
head. They'd kill me if they...

Don't talk, ween girl. I'll tear it out
of you. All right.

Ben Hood.

It's Ben Hood.

Ben Hood.

He's been in jail for years.

No. No more.

Where is he?

I don't know.

Please, Randall.

I swear I don't know. I swear I don't.

Who is he?

Trouble.

Thanks for your company, gentlemen.

Anytime. It's a plan. Anytime. Just
don't forget about us now, do you hear?

Foremost in my thoughts. We'll be seeing
you. We'll do it again.

All right.

Hey, and thanks for the drink.

Got back in a hurry from Hangtree,
Joyce.

Friends of yours?

They paid for the drinks. It could be
after Sykes.

Yeah, I know. They were pumping me for
information about him. Even promised me

part of the reward. There's no reward.
It's a fake.

They don't know that. You do.

That's not enough.

The posters say that John's a murderer.

You say the posters are wrong. But your
word's not enough to convince those men.

They want proof.

Strong, hard proof.

I'll get proof.

Where? In the back issues of your
newspaper.

Do you mind?

Why, of course not.

And here you are.

You'd go back about a year and a half.

we looking for? The man behind the
poster.

Ben Hood.

I don't know him.

The corporal in my outfit during the
war.

Got married.

One day I'll be well to be with his
bride.

Impractical, but romantic.

Well, they found him four months later.

Tried him for desertion. He got 20
years.

I thought they shot deserters.

Colonel Syke was presiding officer at
the court -martial.

He recommended the prison sentence.

Well, Ben Hood should have been
grateful.

Here's his gratitude.

I can understand.

How could a man accomplish this behind
bars?

Maybe he was pardoned, maybe he escaped.
I don't know.

The answer might be here.

Well, make yourself at home.

You leaving?

I'm a lot older than you, and I need my
rest.

There's coffee on the stove.

Good luck.

We'll be seeing you. We'll be back. All
right.

Morning.

Looks like you had a busy night.

You sell the colonel to those men?

What's bothering you?

I find out you told him anything about
Colonel Sykes, I'll take you apart,

Elizabeth. Now, slow down, Joyce.

That's a promise.

All right.

You've registered your warning.

Now, what got you so riled up?

Death notice.

What?

It's all here.

Ben Hood died in jail ten months ago.
Typhoid fever.

But I thought... Yeah, I thought too.

I thought that printer over in Hangtree
was too scared to lie.

Well, that killed your vengeance motive.

Doesn't leave you much to go on now,
does it?

Only my word.

That doesn't stand for much in this
town.

Jody!

Mr. Randall, I've been looking
everywhere for you. Jody, where's your

I don't know.

He's just gone.

Since when?

Since last night.

I went to the ranch to get some food,
and I couldn't have been gone more than

hour. I even left the rifle here just in
case.

Did you hear any shooting?

No. No, I came back, and he was just
gone. I've been looking everywhere for

I didn't know what else to do.

Well, the first thing we're going to do
is interview a newspaper editor.

Come on.

Jody, is that rifle still around?

Come on, let's get the horses inside.

Throw the gun away, Mr. Randall.

Go on, throw it.

No tricks, mister.

You got all kinds of company.

If you're looking for Colonel Sykes,
he's not here.

We'll let the bounty men hunt for Sykes.
We want you, Randall.

I'm flattered.

We've been trailing you since you left
Hangtree Flats. You could mess things up

for us real good.

Move over this way.

Away from the gun.

Do what she says.

Mrs. Hood is a strong -minded woman.

Mrs. Hood.

Ben Hood's wife.

Ben's widow might be more right.

Colonel Sykes killed my husband.

Typhoid fever killed your husband.

He died in prison.

Colonel Sykes put him in there.

That was his job.

He took my Ben away from me.

Ben would be alive right now if it
wasn't for that Colonel.

He put him in jail.

He deserted in time of war.

To be with me.

With me.

And then that colonel, he hunted him
down.

He hunted him like he was a dog.

And he made us run and run and run and
run.

All right, Clara, that's enough.

Well, now it's different.

Now it's the colonel that'll be doing
the running.

And those bounty hunters will make him
run till he drops.

Then they'll put a bullet in his back.

Clara, we ain't got all day.

You might interfere, Mr. Randall.

That's why my brother's gonna kill you
now.

I was wondering when you'd get around to
that.

Turn around, mister.

What's the matter, Weems? Afraid to look
a dead man in the eyes?

Just do me a favor, huh? Turn around.

You watch him.

Who's in there, Reinald?

Might be the ghost of Ben Hood.

You better come out of there right now.

You hear?

That's enough, Jody.

Make her tell where my father is. Make
her tell. I don't know.

Maybe he's dead.

Maybe a body man gunned him down and
he's dead like my Ben.

That's enough, Jody.

That's enough.

Let's find your father.

Where's Colonel Syke?

I wish we knew. A reward would make us a
cloud for a hat.

Tell him the truth, Mrs. Hood.

You better do what she says.

There is no price on Colonel Syke's
head.

The posters were fakes. She has to make
an honest dollar, and she says it's a

fake. Where's the colonel?

At my house.

At your house?

Yeah. These two said they were going to
search the fort last night.

I had to do something.

Well, what are you waiting for?

I don't know how to thank you.

Hey, ain't there a bounty for bad bounty
posters?

I'll tell you what.

I think the colonel will pay one dollar
for every one you can find.

Listen, do you want to take care of Ms.
Hood until the marshal gets here?

Tell him what happened.

Yeah.

Where are you going?

Collecting those posters. Man's got to
make a living somehow.

I'll see you now, here.

Yeah.