Original subtitles

♪ [ trumpet ]

The way to California was marked with many graves.

Most of them have since disappeared,

worn by the wheels of countless wagons,

erased by the turning of the seasons,

their makeshift markers broken and blown to dust.

The few marked graves that remain

have stood now for a hundred years or more,

to remind us who have inherited the magnificent American West,

of those who died in the making of the legacy.

This is the story of one of those graves,

of the love and courage that went into its preservation.

This is the story of...

Teck, these animals of yours sure step heavy.

Maybe they're tired of walking.

I don't know why you insist on working on this piece,

day after day anyway.

The trail is so rough that every stitch you make

is a different length.

I'm not making it to show off my fancywork.

It helps to pass the time.

See, this here's what I did in Missouri,

and this is Nebraska,

and that leaves Wyoming, Utah, and California to do.

Oh, I know this cloth won't win me any prizes,

but whenever I set my table,

I'll remember what a long way it is

to California.

John's coming, Susan.

Whoa.

Are you folks enjoying the ride?

I can't say much for the view,

but at least it's easygoing.

See where that knoll rises out of the prairie?

Uh-huh.

Going to make camp there.

Isn't it a bit early to make camp?

Billy Dawkin's wife's been ill.

We decided to lay over a day, hope she gets to feeling better.

Well, it'll give me a chance to mend my harness.

I've been afraid of losing my old mare.

Is she took bad, John?

It kind of looks that way. Billy's mighty worried.

I'll ride on ahead and help the wagons into position.

I'll meet you at camp.

If you find a tree, save us some shade, huh?

[ chuckles ]

All right, let's go. Come on.

Come on!

Too bad about Lila Dawkins.

Wonder what she's got.

Cholera.

Cholera?

Cholera?

Billy...

Billy...

It don't do any good to take on like this.

It is over and done,

and Lila...

Well...

Lila's sleeping peaceful.

You got to think of the children now.

They're too little to understand

what's happened.

There's a lot of fear in camp tonight.

I know.

One case of cholera brings another and another.

People are saying they'd rather face an Indian attack.

Couple of the wagons are returning to Missouri tomorrow.

I wondered if maybe we shouldn't go back.

John, you're teasing.

No, I'm not, Susan.

Well, Millie and Teck would never go back.

The Watsons offered us a place in their wagon.

John...

ever since things went sour for us,

since we lost the house and everything,

we have dreamed one dream.

California.

We can start life over.

Build a new life.

Going back now doesn't mean we'd have to give up our dream.

And how long would it be before we could afford

to outfit our own wagon?

Yeah, I know. I know. Your sister and her husband

provided us a way to go, but--

Well, then...

It's not just myself I'm thinking about.

Susan, if anything happened to you...

Oh, what could happen to me?

I'm strong and healthy.

John, we're not getting any younger.

This may be the only chance

we'll ever get.

Yeah, you're right. We'll go on.

Nebraska's a lonely place to be buried, isn't it?

What?

Oh.

I just can't help but think about Lila.

We did everything we could for her.

I know.

I guess it's all right, but...

it seems so sad.

They're so far away from everything that...

once was so close to them.

Yeah, I know.

I guess that's part of pioneering.

Perhaps.

[ shovel hitting dirt ]

JOHN: "My days are like a shadow that declineth.

"I'm withered like grass,

"but thou, oh, Lord, shall endure forever,

"and thy remembrance onto all generations."

Amen.

It's hard to move on and leave them.

I know.

And by spring,

there won't be anything left of them.

Grass will cover them,

the fences will blow down,

the rain will erase their names, some...

some scavenger will probably take

Marge Henson's chair.

Every grave we leave behind

looks...so small surrounded by prairie.

There have been so many of them.

One for every mile it seems.

When will it ever end?

"My days are like a shadow that declineth."

We best start back.

Put your arm around me, John, I'm cold all of a sudden.

[ chuckles ] How can you be cold

on a day like this?

Look how flushed your face is.

We better get to the wagon. Come on.

How is she?

She's bad, Teck.

Awful bad.

What I don't understand

is how it could come on her so sudden.

That's just how it does come on, Millie.

You know that.

Poor John.

He just sits there by her like he don't believe it,

holding her hand and telling her she's going to be all right.

Maybe he's right, Millie. Maybe she will recover.

Oh. She's not going to be all right, Teck.

She's dying.

John...

John, tell me again...

how's it going to be in California.

It's going to be just like we always planned.

We'll find a flat piece of ground

overlooking the ocean,

and we'll fence it all real tight,

plant it in barley twice a year.

We'll have an orchard,

and I'll build you a house.

Paint it white?

[ chuckles ]

Yeah, we can paint it white if you'd like.

It'll be nicer than the house we had in Missouri.

Nobody will ever take it away from us.

We'll start all over, Susan.

[ breathlessly ] Oh.

That's a...

That's a wonderful dream.

We'll make it come true.

John?

Hand me my tablecloth.

We're going to get it finished now.

Don't say that, Susan.

You've got to get well.

I've never been able to give you

all the nice things I'd planned.

In California, it'll be different.

You can use it for my burying...

shroud.

Susan, listen. Listen to me.

Susan!

Susan's gone.

In the morning...

We'll bury her in the morning.

John?

John, I-I know how hard it is for you,

but we're moving on.

You've got to come.

I can't, Teck.

I can't leave her to the prairie.

I was able to give her little enough in her lifetime.

There's not much I can do for her now, but...

I want to mark her grave so that it won't be forgotten,

so people who pass on their way to Oregon,

California,

will know that Susan Hail is buried here.

They'll know, John. You marked it real fine.

No, it won't hold up.

I want a stone, a real headstone with her name carved in it.

I want it to last a hundred years.

A headstone? Where'll you get it?

Saint Joseph.

Three hundred miles from here?

Oh, that's foolishness.

You know we can't turn back now.

You can't turn back, but I can.

Without Susan, there's no point in going on.

And suppose you do go back.

How are you going to bring a headstone

clear back here without a wagon?

I don't know, but I'll find a way.

Good-bye, Teck.

Tell Millie good-bye for me.

Thanks for everything.

Mr. Rand?

Yeah? What is it?

John Hail. Remember me?

Hmm.

Oh, yeah. Susan O. Hail,

proper dates,

no declaration, simple headstone.

You said it'd be ready in a week.

Yeah. I took the last cut on it yesterday.

Ought to be around here somewhere.

You have to excuse me. I'm just finishing my dinner.

Oh, now I remember.

You wanted it crated up.

Why you wanted it covered up

for the trip the cemetery I'll never know.

I'm not taking it to the cemetery.

Eh?

My wife isn't buried here in St. Joe.

Atchison?

No, she's out on the prairie,

about three hundred miles from here.

We were on our way to California.

How you going to pack that heavy tombstone

three hundred miles?

I sold my horse.

Figured I'd hire a freighter to haul it for me,

but so far, I haven't found anyone willing to take it.

Just wait until this rush is over.

When spring comes,

the freighters will be hungry for cargo.

If I wait till spring, I'll never be able

to find her grave.

I've got to go now.

Tell you what I'll do.

I don't know if it'll do much good,

but I'll throw in this old wheelbarrow.

Maybe get you as far the river,

then you're really going to be in trouble.

A cloudburst washed out that ferry

about ten days ago.

Yeah, I know. I saw it when I came here.

You're welcome to it if you can use it.

Thanks very much, Mr. Rand. That's very kind of you.

Oh, no thanks to me, but...

Won't do you much good, but maybe it'll be better

than nothing.

[ grunts ]

And Mr. Hail?Yeah?

I hope you make it.

Don't worry. I'll make it.

Hey, did you see that?Yeah.

He's pushing a wheelbarrow.

That weren't no wheelbarrow.

No?No.

His wagon fell in a river and shrunk.

[ both laugh ]

I don't believe it.

Hey, Lance! Come look.

It's the wheelbarrow man.

Well, I'll be.

How do you suppose he caught up with us?

Been pushing that thing day and night, I'd say.

Maybe he don't insist on a siesta

every afternoon either.

Wonder where he's going.

I don't know,

but I'll tell you where he ain't going.

He ain't going across that river.

Don't be too sure of that.

He's a mighty determined-looking man.

What's he doing now?

He's going back after the wheelbarrow.

It don't make much sense to me.

He'd be better off leaving it behind.

No, he's packing something in it.

That crate, see?

I wonder what's inside.

Must be something valuable, huh?

Howdy, friend.

Howdy.

You're going West the hard way, ain't you?

Well, it isn't the easiest way.

Maybe we can give you a lift.

You passed me on the trail ten days ago.

You didn't offer me a lift then.

We didn't know you was coming this far,

what, with the wheelbarrow and all.

Uh, what are you packing, mister?

You wouldn't believe me if I told you.

Go ahead.

My wife's buried on the prairie.

I'm taking a headstone for her grave.

I know it sounds far-fetched.

I would appreciate a lift.

We'll help you.

Just show me where you want this.

Think he's telling the truth?

I don't know. It's a cock-eyed story.

Almost sounds convincing, though.

Naw. He hovers over that crate

like a mother hen.

Take my word for it. It ain't no tombstone.

What is it then?

Let's find out.No, wait.

We'll make our move at daybreak. Maybe he's a sound sleeper.

If he is, it'll save him a busted head.

[ wheels turning ]

Hey!

Whoa!

Where do you think you're going with my gear?

Now, we weren't going anywhere.

Let's get out of here.

Yah! Giddyup!

Here, let me have it.

Something valuable, huh?

I told you I thought he was telling the truth!

You did, huh?

Whose idea was it to run out on him this morning?

You numbskull!

Yeah? Well, you're a penny-brained idiot!

[ groans ]

Easy there, young fella.

What are you doing out here?

They took Susan's headstone.

Is that your wagon, mister?

Sure is.Which way you going?

East, west. Don't make any difference to me.

I'm a scavenger, live off the pickings

of the prairie, you might say.

Would you mind taking me west?

Sure thing.

What was that you were saying?

Somebody stole what?

Once I got to Oregon, it was kind of letdown.

Couldn't keep my mind on my farming.

Then it came to me.

When I headed West,

it wasn't Oregon I was going for,

it was the going itself.

And I've been going ever since.

Whoa, whoa.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

Find anything?

It's my wheelbarrow, all right, but no sign of the stone.

It could be anywhere.

That's what I figured.

Young fella, it's going to take a miracle

to find that headstone.

At first, Susan, I lost all heart

for going to California,

but it's what we wanted together,

what we came this far for,

so I'm going on.

It won't be hard to find you when I come this way again.

You got a fine-looking headstone.

Good-bye, Susan.

John Hail did continue to California

and spent the remainder of his days there.

The headstone that he carted to the side of his wife's grave

northwest of Kenesaw, Adams County, Nebraska,

no longer exists.

It was eroded by wind, charred by prairie fires,

and finally, carried away by souvenir hunters,

but Susan Hail's final resting place

has been fenced and re-marked.

And this is the way it looks today.

A tribute to her memory

and to the heroic efforts of John Hail.