Original subtitles

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.