All language subtitles for maverick_s02e18_the_rivals

It's you that I've been in love with all
along.

Lydia, I don't deserve you.

Brett, you once did me the honor of
asking me to become your wife.

Let's have a very quiet wedding.

Maverick!

Starring James Garner and Jack Kelly.

Produced by Warner Brothers.

From the entertainment capital of the
world.

Produced for television by Warner
Brothers.

Denver. Hope Springs.

Awful big money in that Denver game.

Bart, all the really big money is at
Hope Springs this season.

You want to be a drifter all your life?

Remember what Papi used to say.

Early to bed and early to rise is the
curse of the working classes.

At the Great Western Hotel, even the
maids don't get up until noon.

Brett, we're just simple country boys.

Those Eastern millionaires will show you
no mercy.

Thank you.

I think you ought to know this fellow's
cheating you.

Of course he is. It's his deal.

What name do you plan on using?

I kind of like the name Brett Maverick.

Well, they won't.

Brett, you can't get into the casino.
You can't even get into the hotel unless

your name is Vanderbilt, Vandergilt,
Stuyvesant, or Astor.

Bart, in the bright lexicon of youth,
there is no such word as can't.

Next station stop is Denver.

Denver next.

I wish you all the luck in the world.
You're going to need it.

Hold the thought.

Is it true what he said?

Probably not. What?

Well, that you can't get in at Hope
Springs unless your name is Vanderbilt,

Vanderbilt, Stuyvesant, or Astor.

That's the way the old folks tell it.

You're not one of those names, are you?

Nope.

I'm just getting over a bad cold.

How are you going to get in?

I don't know yet.

I want to surprise myself.

Well, I'm sure you'll have no trouble at
all.

Well, if you're going to be around, we
can make a little bet on it.

By George, I will make you a bet.

Do you have luggage with your initials
on it?

Elegant luggage. Bought it in St. Louis,
especially for the occasion.

Good. I'll bet you $100 that if I take
your name and you take mine, I can get

into the Great Western Hotel every bit
as easily as you do.

Well, what makes you think your name
will impress them any more than mine?

Mine's Van de Goud.

Get your bets down.

I'm afraid without a reservation.

Oh.

A corner suite on the third floor.

And if it isn't exactly what you want,
take Mr. Vannegut's luggage to suite

Maverick? Maverick.

Oh, well, I'm afraid we have nothing for
you, Mr. Maverick.

Now, look here, my man.

Mr.

Maverick is with me.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, yes. Yes, indeed, sir.

Well, what are you standing around for?
Take Mr. Maverick's luggage.

You know, it's a good feeling having
influential friends, but I'd rather be

I am.

What's that? A simple, uncouth Texas
gambler named Maverick.

Well, I'm afraid there can't be two of
me here, and I've sort of grown attached

to the name. If it's good enough for the
desk clerk, it's good enough for me.

Rep, my boy, it's good enough for the
desk clerk only because a Vandegelt says

it is.

If you want to stay here, you'll have to
stay as John Vandegelt III.

That bland, stupid look is deceptive,
isn't it?

You've got something up that Brooks
Brothers sleeve of yours.

Then you're planning to use me, aren't
you? Now you're beginning to think like

Vandergal, shrewd. Well, whatever you're
up to, you can count me out.

Suppose I start by counting you out,
say, $1 ,000.

If you're still here next week and still
being a good little millionaire,

there'll be another $1 ,000 and so
forth.

That should do something for your sturdy
peasant pride.

What makes you think you can buy me?

My dear fellow, I don't want to buy you.
I simply want to rent you for a while.

A thousand a week, plus your hotel bill.
And all you have to do is thimper back

at the snobs who simper at you.

Well, suppose some of them don't simper.

There must be somebody here that knows
you.

Not likely.

I've been in England for the last seven
years. Fine. What about the seven years

before that?

Well, if the situation arises, just face
up to it with your usual disarming

dishonesty.

Yes, sir.

Anything else, sir? Oh, yes. If any mail
comes for me, that'll be our beloved

father, Brigadier Archibald Vandegel,
checking up on us. He thinks we're out

here picking out a proper wife.

Why are we here?

Well, you're here to gamble.

Myself, I never do.

You probably don't know me from Adam's
Housecoat, but I'm Mrs. Chauncey George

Maliver from Philadelphia. We met years
ago at a party that I gave for the Grand

Duke Alexis.

You were a mere boy.

My, you're looking extremely well.
Where's your father?

He couldn't make it.

Oh, well, you're here, and half a loaf
is as good as a mile.

Whilst you're here, you must let me take
you in tow. This place is simply

teeming with predatory females and their
mothers.

Come along with me and meet some nice
young ladies.

Lydia, my dear, we could go further, you
and I.

Why does it always get so stuffy this
part of the day?

Look what I found.

My niece, Miss Lindley, Miss Marshall,
and Mr. Lucius Benson, whom I'm sure you

already know. Everybody knows Lucius
Benson.

This is my very dear friend, John Van de
Gelt III.

Oh.

How do you do?

As a matter of fact, Mr. Van der Gelt
and I have not met.

Won't you sit down?

Oh, well, thank you. Oh, thank you.

I suspect Mr. Van der Gelt finds society
in America rather provincial after the

courts and watering places of Europe.

How utterly unfortunate.

Actually, it is.

New York society, for example, is being
taken over by people who have nothing

but money.

Oh, I'm not a snob, mind you. Actually,
I'm quite democratic.

I've always said that four generations
can make a gentleman just as easily as

can, haven't I, Lydia?

Indeed you have.

So many people who should be leading
society simply won't take any great part

the daily routine of it.

In fact, Vandergaelt, that's my only
criticism of you.

Oh, you know how it is, Benson. You keep
putting things off.

Was that gentleman nodding at you?

I'm afraid he was.

It's refreshing to see a high society
loafer reading a book.

Well, this one is a low society loafer.

Oh?

Who is he?

A roving no -good Texas gambler. His
name is Maverick or something like that.

He, uh... He's not society?

He's barely humanity.

throbbing of her heart, which beat
visibly and audibly under the excess of

agitation. I'm not wishing you greater
torment than I have, Heathcliff. I only

wish us never to be parted.

Oh,

I cannot stand that horse radish cream.
You can't stand the freckles either. And

that is Lynn.

Oh, really, my dear child, your behavior
this afternoon was rather spectacular.

You were not only rude again to Mr.
Benson, who's been patiently courting

for two years.

Aunt Celia, so long as I have money and
position, Mr. Benson wouldn't mind if I

wore a beard.

You could do far worse than marry Lucius
Benson.

Not without a lot of thought and effort.

You were also very cool to young
Vandergeld, who is not only going to

$12 million invested at 25 % a year, but
who is also quite comfortably fixed in

his own right.

At the risk of repeating myself, Aunt
Celia, I'm more than satisfied with the

money I've got.

Isn't $7 million enough?

What are you staring at? Surely you've
seen books before.

The Courtship of Miles Standish?

Fern leaves from Fanny's portfolio?

I'm essentially quite romantic, you
know.

If you'd like to borrow one of those,
let me recommend Wuthering Heights.

Delightful. Star -crossed lovers on a
windswept moor.

Or this one, A Tale of Two Cities by
Giles Dickens.

It's about a chap named Sidney Carton
who falls madly in love with a girl, but

she marries some French blueblood. And
what do you suppose this chap Carton

does? He takes her husband's place on
the guillotine so she won't feel badly.

He dies for love.

That's a very nice gesture.

Indeed it is, Brett. You don't find
people like that anymore.

I don't.

Van, I'm not expected to die for that
thousand a week, am I?

I wouldn't let you do a thing like that,
Brett.

What sort of a monster do you think I
am?

You were asking about the casino, Mr.
Van de Gallen. It's open now. Well,

Save me a plate.

Oh, put it on the table, please. I have
more important things to think about.

Oh, by the way, that Miss Lindley,
you've been baiting with books?

I rather like her myself than I saw her
first. Oh, not at all. I saw her months

ago. That's why I'm here.

That's why you're here.

Oh?

I suppose you'll want an introduction.

Oh, thank you. No, I refuse to ride on
the coattails of my wealthy friends.

I want to be loved for myself alone.

You'll need a lot of help on that.

Now, tell me what I can do for you.

Well, precisely what you're doing now.
Go on frisking about in the pursuit of

happiness. See as much of the girl as
you possibly can. Try to sweep her off

feet, dear boy.

Why? Oh, first of all, because you
haven't a chance with her. And secondly,

because the more she sees of you, the
better I'm going to look to her.

Yeah, girly, does your mother know
you're out?

That's the kind of dolly I want for
Christmas.

Run along, little boys.

One moment there, my friend.

Oh, run along, my man. Nobody sent for
you.

Think the money and blue blood give you
the right to annoy decent young ladies

on the public streets?

Suppose this girl were your sister.

We didn't mean any harm.

No harm indeed.

Is this what you learn in your
fashionable finishing schools?

I may be poor, but I know how to respect
womanhood.

Brett Maverick at your service, ma 'am.
If it's not presumptuous, may I offer to

see you safely home?

Mr. Maverick, I should deem it an honor.

Anything for a classmate, eh?

That's something you Harvard men
wouldn't understand.

I told you you're Jack Vandegil.

Yes?

Yes. And you're not Jack Vandegil.

Because I went to Groton with Jack
Vandegil. Of course you did.

And you haven't changed a bit, have you?

Oh, boy.

You told Mr. Maverick I had to see him?
Oh, yes, sir, when he and Miss Lindley

came in from riding this morning. And?

Well, he said he couldn't get in touch
with you right then because they only

time for lunch. And then they had to go
riding out to Lover's Leap. I thought

that was yesterday.

Oh, no, sir. Yesterday was the caves
with the rowboat.

Rowboat?

It's quite simple to me.

If one station wagon isn't enough, then
send two station wagons for the trucks.

Don't stand there trapping Floyd.

Where did you clear the room that had
them rearranged?

Edwards, I want a direct telegraph
connection installed between now and

time. Mr.

Van de Gel? Oh, fill it out yourself.
You know who I am.

Yes, indeed, sir.

I'll leave the second floor real.

Eight rooms.

Make it nine.

And absolute quiet at all times. Is that
clear?

Indeed, sir.

And you'll be wanting to see your... I
want to see anybody, I'll tell you.

What's that woman's name now?

Malibu, sir.

Mrs. Chauncey George Malibu. Yes, suite
318.

I'll walk my bath at 6 .30 and tell the
governor he can come up at 7. And young

Mr. Van... Have him report to me at 5 o
'clock sharp.

Oh, Mr. Van de Gelt.

Yes? He wants to see you at 5.

Mr. Maverick? Oh, no, sir. Him. Your
father.

Wine makes me drowsy, thank you, but I
will have a drop of this.

Death and destruction, madam.

You were saying Brigadier.

Yes.

Now, I've investigated your niece's
financial condition, her health, her

pedigree and her education.

I'm inclined to believe she's just what
I have in mind.

And what do you have in mind, Brigadier?

Marriage. Well, of course you realize
that you're old enough to be her father.

Father -in -law.

You've seen my son Jack, I suppose.

Oh, we've met.

Promising boy, little rattlebrain,
disorganized, slow to settle down.

I can say much the same about my niece.

Good! Then we'll marry them off to each
other, and that'll knock the nonsense

out of both.

Well, are we in business?

Business? Oh, oh, yes. Yes, indeed we
are.

He, our father, and he wants to see his
son at 5 o 'clock.

Well, in this case, it might be better
if I see him.

You'd be rather badly bruised.

Trouble.

Well, it's no place for weaklings.

Well, you take care of yourself, fella.

You mean an awful lot to me.

Nonsense. A thousand dollars a week
isn't that much.

Come in.

Father.

My son.

It's good to see you once more.

You're looking exceptionally well,
Father. Westchester does something for

have to face it, my boy.

I'm getting old.

Nonsense, Father. You haven't faced it
so far. Why start brooding about it now?

Jack, I've been thinking about your
future.

about your being able to take care of
yourself after I'm gone.

I don't mean this as a reproach, but
when I was your age, I already owned my

first steamship line.

Oh, I'd meant to tell you, Father. I own
a steamship line now.

Well, that makes me very happy.

Which steamship line?

Well, I saw you working so hard last
month trying to acquire the Liverpool

Empire line.

Well, I decided to buy it out from under
you.

Good boy.

Where were we?

Worrying about my taking care of myself.

Oh, yes.

Yes, I want to see you independent,
Jack. I want to know that when I'm gone,

you'll be standing on your own two feet.

I am touched.

I think I've figured out how you're
going to do it. Have you now?

How's that?

With a good wife standing at her two
feet beside you.

And I think I found just... The one.

Beautiful girl.

Good family and well off in her own
right.

I wish you both all the happiness in the
world.

What does that mean?

There are 40 million people in this
country, including, I imagine, a number

marriageable young ladies.

If there is to be one for me, I would
like to find her myself.

The ones you found for me have all been
abominable.

This one is quite different.

It's been the trouble with all of them.
You're at least going to look at her,

talk to her?

I am not. Why not?

Because we've had all this before,
Father.

If your eye for business were as bad as
your eye for girls... I've already

talked to her family.

Well, go talk to them again. I won't.
Blast me if I ever call you Jack again,

you disobedient, ungrateful
treacherous... And shrewd.

Not when you tackle me, boy.

I'll cut you off without a nickel. Oh,
I've got nickels. You won't have when I

finish with you. I'll drive you to the
wall. I'll break you, Jack. I mean, you

dog, I'll... You're frightening me,
Father.

At least leave me my steamship line.

That does it!

I never want to see you again.

Don't write to me, don't talk to me.

And when you change your mind and want
to come crawling back, crawl back to my

lawyers. Blast me if I ever call you
Jack again.

Get out!

What a pity it isn't snowing outside.

Everything go all right, Brigadier?

Oh, crap, I forgot to tell him. He's
supposed to see the girl at six o

What girl at six o 'clock?

Her name is Miss Lindley.

Miss Lindley? And she's with her aunt in
suite 318.

You will go, won't you?

Let me tell him that you will.

Tell him nothing. I'm not supposed to
communicate with the old bully at all.

means so much to him.

It'll break his heart if you don't.

Why not?

You're a very brave boy, Van.

I wouldn't be in your shoes for
anything.

Oh, but you are, unless you want to go
off salary.

Now, perhaps we can find a flower for
your buttonhole.

I've never worn a flower in my
buttonhole in my life.

The President of the United States wears
a flower, Brett, and he makes $40 a

week less than you do.

Now, run along and tidy up. Miss Lindley
is expecting Mr. Van to go. And for the

moment, that still has to be you.

Oh, she'll be disappointed if you don't
propose.

Van, I suppose she says yes.

Then we'd all be disappointed.

I suppose you're wondering why I'm here.

Oh, not at all, Mr. Vandegelt.

You're here because your father sent
you.

I'm here because my aunt is guarding the
door.

You know, if it weren't for your
manners, no one would know that you came

Philadelphia. I'm sorry, Mr. Vandegelt.
Do go on with your proposal.

You're not making it any easier for me.

That is important to a Vandergeld, isn't
it?

Let's see how easy we can make it.

Miss Lindley. No, no, no. Dear Miss
Lindley, I have long admired you from

deeply and tenderly, dear Miss Lindley.

Don't stop now.

I'm keenly aware that I have nothing to
offer except an honest and loving heart,

several million dollars invested at 25%,
a box of the Metropolitan Opera, a

string of polo ponies.

And my friends tell me I'm not
unattractive. Yes.

All these I lay at your feet, dear Miss
Lindley. And I beg you to do me the

honor of becoming Mrs. John VanderGelt
III, or however many it is.

There.

Now, wasn't that a nice proposal?

It was the nicest I ever heard.

Now, what do you say?

I say, dear Mr.

VanderGelt, thank you.

No.

You won't marry me?

That's one way of putting it.

You don't know what this does to me. Oh,
I'm sure you'll get over it.

What do you have against me?

Money, Mr. Vandergeld.

Money? What's wrong with money?

The people who have it.

Usually they have very little else.

That's an awful thing to say. Some of
the nicest people I know are filthy with

money. And some of them have none at
all. Your friend Maverick, for example.

I'm sure there have been times when he
didn't know where his next meal was

coming from.

That's possible.

But he has better things.

He has warmth, imagination, courage, a
sense of adventure.

That's Maverick. Things he couldn't
possibly have if he were rich.

But you're rich and you have
imagination.

But I don't spend all of my time dancing
and riding to Hound.

I learn a lot from reading.

Reading what?

Let me give you an example.

Have you ever read Mr. Dickens' A Tale
of Two Cities?

I've glanced at it. Now that's life in
all its reality.

A woman loved by two men.

One man is an aristocrat. The other, a
penniless lawyer named Sidney Carton.

Silly girl.

Fooled by outward appearances, marries
the aristocrat.

Even then, Sidney Carton still loves
her.

He cuts down on his drinking.

He tries to improve himself.

And when her aristocratic husband is
condemned to the guillotine, guess?

Sidney Carton takes the aristocrat's
place.

Because underneath it all, he was the
real aristocrat.

Do you remember what he said as he was
mounting the scaffold?

It is a far, far better thing that I do
than I have ever done.

Now, be honest, Mr.

VanderGelt. You wouldn't have done a
thing like that.

With me, there's a difference.

I don't drink.

Well, I don't hold it against you, but
you can see my point.

I don't want $12 million.

I want a man with a soul.

And... I think I've found one.

Well, of course she has.

Me.

I know how you feel about this girl, but
you've got to be sensible. She has

nothing up here.

All she knows about or cares about is
the stuff she reads in those purple

novels. Don't brood about it. A few
weeks over a hot stove will steam that

nonsense out of it. I'll send you two
hot stoves for a wedding present.

Because you're as bad as she is.

I thought I knew you, Van.

Not smart, I said, but he does have a
certain low animal cunning.

Pardon me.

Dark suit, rather somber necktie.

Oh, don't mind me, Brett. Just keep on
talking.

Livingston, old boy.

Lucius Benson. How nice.

I've been meaning to tell you there's a
membership opening up in the Cotillion

Group. I know how anxious you've been.

Anything you can do for me, old boy?

Of course, that's a rather solemn little
set, the Cotillion Group. Do you think

you can get serious enough for them?

I've always been serious where the
cotillion group is concerned.

Let's hope they don't hear the story I
heard yesterday about your being knocked

down in the park for flirting with my
fiancée.

Lucius, that was only a little joke that
some of us cooked up.

Isn't every day one sees a Rutgers man
cooking up little jokes with Texans?

Suppose you let me in on the joke,
Livingston.

I have a droll sense of humor.

What do you want?

I've been doing a lot of thinking.

You'd better take it easy until you get
used to it.

After I left you, the sight of you kept
haunting me. I thought of you sitting

here, old, tired, feeble.

Tired?

Feeble? Me?

You're in the twilight of your life,
where the trivial things become

Peace and comfort.

A rocking chair, a crowd of
grandchildren fussing over you.

And I've given you none of these things,
Father.

Oh, I've been a wretched son.

Selfish, ungrateful, disobedient. Not
like a Van de Gelt at all.

My boy, you mustn't... Thank heavens I
still have the Van de Gelt conscience.

What Van de Gelt conscience?

I've decided I can't let my selfishness
stand in the way of my duty as a son.

I'm ready to marry the girl.

Confound you, you shall be Jack again.

You've seen the young lady, talked with
her. I guess, I guess she's all right.

Oh, if you're happy with her, Father,
I'll go along.

Go along?

What does that mean?

Marriage isn't a matter of going along.
Marriage is a matter of love. Well,

perhaps that will come later.

That's the most nonsensical thing I ever
heard.

She's a smashing girl, Jack. If I were
20 years younger, I... Oh, now, no

regrets, Father.

You're just like all your mother's
people.

No guts.

When I was your age, no father of mine
would ever have bullied me into marrying

some stupid girl from Philadelphia.
She's not... Father, you don't want me

marry her?

I want you to stand on your own two
feet. Alone or married?

It doesn't matter to me what you do. Get
out.

George, young van, I got us a
shamelessly beautiful morning. I could

another breakfast.

If I'd known that, you could have had
mine.

Do you suppose the casino is open yet?
I've been wondering what it looks like.

Don't you ever think about anything but
money?

Think about love and life, the simple
joys.

They aren't simple the way you go at it.

Van, you can't court girls the same way
you steal railroads.

You'll be married.

No. Ever stolen a railroad?

Not yet. Then shut up. You know, I'm
afraid we'll have to lope down the back

stairs. The land of that toll would be
rather cumbersome.

Mr. Maverick.

Oh, good morning, Miss Lydia, honey.

I have a date to go driving this
afternoon with Mr.

Maverick. Well, that's nice.

Would you be good enough, Mr. Maverick,
to pick me up at one o 'clock?

Mr. Vandegelt.

My dear Miss Lindley, the man you know
as Brett Maverick is actually John

Vandegel III.

The man you know as John Vandegel... A
friend.

What are you going to do?

I think I'll go quietly upstairs and
open a vein.

Don't bother to equivocate, madam.

I have three pinketed men in my
household budget and nothing escapes me

long. Then perhaps you can tell me
what's been going on.

Delighted. The two of them arrived here
a week ago posing as each other.

Within an hour, you had swooped down on
the cowboy. Why?

They told me he was your son.

At that time, Brigadier, I considered
myself a family friend.

And within 24 hours, your niece had
pounced on my son. Why? Is she a family

friend of the cowboy's? Oh, she's a
silly, woolly -brained romantic child

insists on marrying beneath her station
in life.

She wants to marry someone poor but
honest.

If all women were like that, my family
would have died out 12 generations ago.

Now, after several days of shenanigans
with people billing and cooing behind my

back and defying me to my face, your
niece this morning slaps my son on a

porch. Why?

I gather that was her way of declining
his proposal.

My late wife turned me down 12 times
over never laying a hand on me.

Well, everything's straightening out
now. No harm done. I'll have both of

up for a sensible talk.

Then you'd better send your Pinkerton
men to find them.

She and he and the cowboy have all
disappeared.

Oh, Brett, isn't it gorgeous?

Isn't it one of those days that makes
you feel good just to be alive?

I suppose if I really thought about it.

You're actually quite shy, aren't you?

I'd never noticed it.

That makes me feel very proud.

And very tender.

How did you find this place?

It's one of the places Brett and I...
It's one of the places your friend Mr.

Vandergelt led me to.

Lydia... Don't you sort of wish you were
up here with him?

Dear foolish maverick.

What I mean is, don't you think you're
being a little hard on him?

Him? Mr. Vandergaelt III?

Brett, you must push him out of your
mind as I have.

He's no good.

He thinks an awful lot of you.

Oh, I'm sure he thinks an awful lot of
his traction companies and his coal

and his yacht.

And I'm sure he got them by the same
underhanded, treacherous, utterly

tactics. He's a cheat, an imposter, a
thief.

And he's not the sort of person I want
you associating with, Van. Brett.

I hadn't meant to tell you, but...
Actually, I'm no good, too.

But your deception was for noble
reasons.

I respect you for that.

Lydia, there's something I've got to
tell you.

You already have, Brett.

Every look, every gesture, every utterly
unselfish thing you did in all those

days when you were standing on the
sidelines, sacrificing your happiness

that of your friend.

Things are getting awfully complicated.
No, no, things are finally simplifying

themselves.

It's your happiness that counts now. I
know that. Your happiness and mine.

All that time I thought I was in love
with John Vandergilt because I thought

that he was you. And now I know that you
are you.

Am I making sense, Brett?

And all the time I was really in love
with you.

Lydia, I don't deserve you.

Brett, you once did me the honor of
asking me to become your wife.

Let's have a very quiet wedding.

Dear Miss Lindley, I think you should
know that your friend, Mr. Brett

is not all he seems to be.

Wherever he has gone throughout the
West, he has left behind him a trail of

empty whiskey bottles, unpaid bills, and
broken hearts.

He has trifled with the affections of
every young lady.

She'd like that.

Miss Lindley, please. Mr. Lucius Benson.

She won't see you.

Suppose you run along and tell her
anyway, my girl.

You better not come around anymore.

Miss Lydia's getting married.

Married? To Mr. Maverick.

He's not Mr. Maverick.

This one is.

It's my son that has the problem. What
are you worried about? I'm still on set.

I like your son.

Doesn't it bother you, seeing your own
flesh and blood moping around like that,

his heart broken, his whole life
shattered?

It's good for him. I wish he could
manage it more often.

I guess that's what it takes to be a
multimillionaire. No heart.

Oh, sit down. It's going to take more
than heart to get you people out of this

mess.

Of course, we could bring in someone
even more unattractive than you and let

fall in love with him, but that would
leave my son right where he is now,

wouldn't it? Love isn't the problem,
Brigadier. It's marriage.

She's in love with your son already.

That's true.

Marriage, marriage.

Why didn't I think of it before?
Brigadier, I've got a friend in Denver,

still there.

Anything anybody needs, Buckley can
supply it for a price.

I'll get word to him that I need a wife
and three or four small children.

He'll have them standing in the lobby
first thing in the morning.

You've spent so much time with that son
of mine that your thinking is getting as

fuzzy as his.

If you did a thing like that, she'd drop
the both of you and marry the next man

down on the list, this Benson fellow.

What do you want me to do, just walk
away from it?

Brilliant. Brilliant!

What?

Think of it. What would happen if you
just disappeared?

You mean run away, leave that poor girl
waiting at the church?

That's a pretty shabby thought.

I was sure you'd like it. You see what
it'll do, don't you? Make you an even

greater scoundrel than my son.

Take care of this poor but honest
business once and for all, and throw

right into the arms of that simple,
guileless, good -hearted son of mine.

Brigadier, I'm ashamed of you.

When is the next train out of here?

6 .15 in the morning.

Reaches Denver at half past seven. Your
fare will be $5 .37.

And, of course, you'll need some change
for breakfast.

If anyone asks me, I've gone to bed
early. Slight head cold. Good night.

Mr.

Patrick.

Vicious Benson was beside himself.

No gentleman, he kept saying. The man's
no gentleman.

Nonsense. Maverick's a real gentleman.

He's gallant.

He's a better man than I am.

Well, how do you figure that, Van?

He played it square while I was playing
it devious.

He's got the girl now and my admiration.

Yes, but really, Van, laughing at a
challenge.

Livingston, why should Benson challenge
Maverick to a duel?

He was hoping to marry the girl himself
until you two came along.

Preposterous idea.

You know, if only he weren't so
snobbish.

You know, he wasn't nearly as upset when
he thought she was marrying a van...

How would he know I was a van to guilt?

You told him.

It just slipped out. When?

Day before yesterday.

Oh, but you're not angry with me, are
you, Van?

Now, I want you to do me two favors. One
involves getting up quite early

tomorrow morning.

And the others, a matter of merely
taking a message to Benson tonight. Give

my compliments and this.

Why pistols?

Why not revolver?

It's Benson's choice, I suppose.

He's an expert with pistols.

Going at this hour of the morning?

Out. Out to the picnic grounds.

Oh. Well, have fun.

Oh, Lucy.

Yes? Is Miss Lindley an early riser? Oh,
yes, sir.

Good. Will you give her this message for
me when she wakes?

Well, if she'll listen.

Tell her.

It is a far, far better thing I do than
I've ever done.

Don't mean a thing to me.

It will.

To her.

Dear Van, I hate running out on you like
this. I feel awful about running out on

Lydia. But we might as well face it. I'm
too old to change and I'm too young to

get married.

Thanks for the buggy ride, Britt.

Dear Brett, Benson seems determined to
fight a duel with someone, so it might

well be me.

By the time you read this, I may be
lying dead on the picnic grounds, but I

shall have died happy, knowing that the
girl I love is with the finest man I've

ever known.

God bless you both.

of a sudden, everybody waking up at the
crack of dawn.

It looked like a heavenly day.

I ran into young Mr. Vandekilp
downstairs, and he was already going off

picnic round.

I haven't the slightest interest.

Oh, and it's a good thing, too, Mom.

Miss Lydia, you didn't get rid of that
one a minute too soon.

I don't care to hear about it. What I
mean, Mom, is he's real strange, going

picnic at 6 o 'clock in the morning and
leaving messages for you that I wouldn't

think of repeating to you.

Even if I could remember them.

Please don't. He's spooky, talking like
that at 6 o 'clock in the morning.

Tell her, he said, that it's a...

On my count, you will both walk ten
paces forward.

On the count of ten, you will then turn
and fire.

One, two, three.

Van why?

It was nothing, Brett.

Don't be afraid to tell me, Doctor.

Pretty messy.

You'll never be able to use it again.

Thank heavens it was my left arm. I'm
not talking about your arm. I'm talking

about your coat.

It's barely a scratch.

Just remember to keep the bandage
changed.

Guns, shootouts.

It's you people from the East who are
giving the West a bad name.

You ought to be feeling pretty silly.

Well, actually, I feel quite good. My
appetite's coming back.

Ben!

Ben!

Ben!

You! You let him do it! Why?

I kept telling you I'm no good.

What the devil is going on here?

Lydia.

Don't die, Van. You mustn't die.

Van. What is there to live for?

For me, my darling. For us.

I love you, Van.

I've always loved you.

Then I can die happy.

I won't let you die.

You've got to live. I want to marry you.

I'll be a good wife.

It's no life for you, Lydia.

Polo pone is a yacht.

That doesn't matter.

I'd marry you if you were the richest
man in the world.

Promise me you'll live.

Oh, Mr. Maverick, we haven't met. I'm
the hotel manager.

Very nice to know you.

I see you're visiting our casino.

Tell me, have you run across a vicious
rumor that you can't get into our casino

unless your name is Vanderbilt,
Vandergeld, Stuyvesant, or Astor? I

to rumors.

You should, Mr. Maverick, because that
one happens to be quite true.

Who? An English lord, the Earl of
Bertley.

Not Bertley, young fellow.

Bartley, the Earl of Bartley.