Original subtitles

The Rifleman.

Starring Chuck Connors.

Judgment is mine, for I am the true judge of all things.

How they feel son?

Good Pa, just right.

Well, walk in them a little, that's

what boots are for, walking.

Well?

Swell, Pa.

Now can I take them off?

All right.

Got everything on your list Luke,

you're sure there's nothing else?

No, that's about it Hattie, except for a bag of beans,

and a bag of flour.

Beans and flour, meat and potatoes,

is that all you and that boy of yours are going to eat?

It's good, solid food.

Well, where's the greens?

Greens?

String beans, collards,

turnip and beet greens.

Now don't you be telling me that your Ma didn't feed them

to you when you was a sprout.

She sure did, and I sure hated him.

Of course you hated him, but you ate them,

or else you wouldn't have grow-ed

up a big lunk that you are.

Put him in a sack Hattie, I'll take them,

now add up what I owe you.

Luke, letter for you.

I'll get it for you Pa.

All right.

Pretty writing, can I open it Pa?

Sure, son.

Well, how much do I owe you, Hattie?

$5,14 Luke.

Ain't no letter.

No.

And there's something torn from a newspaper,

about a hangman getting shot at Towners, some sort of saying.

Saying?

Yeah, judgment is mine, for I am the judge of all things.

Judgement.

Who's it from Pa, what's it mean?

Nothing, nothing at all, just some kind of a joke,

you go wait for me in the book board.

But Pa, why?

Go on, son.

Kind of peculiar joke to send a man

a newspaper story about a hangman who got himself shot,

how did it happen?

It's a private matter Willard.

Well, excuse me Luke, I just didn't

think there was anything so private

about a newspaper clipping.

Oh, of course, I'm sorry.

Exactly how far is Towners from here, Willard?

About 300 miles, give or take 10 either way,

a weeks hard riding would bring a man there.

Or could bring him here.

This is my judgement, for I am the only true judge.

Expecting friendly company, Lucas boy?

What are you doing out this way Micah?

I'm out to ask you a few questions.

Oh.

But first, here, Henry Denton down at the post office

gave it to me when he heard I was coming out this way,

figured it might be important.

Is that the story on the murder

of Judge Martin Harlow?

Nobody's been prying, I got a notice on it from the Sheriff

up in Claypoole, just in case the man who done it

heads down this way.

Did he tell you what he looked like?

I figured you might be able to tell me that.

I can't.

But Henry Denton told me you got the same kind of a letter

once before.

Just like this, first the man who hung Ephrem Burton, then

the man who sentenced Ephrem Burton,

and now the man who caught Ephrem Burton.

You?

Yeah.

The day of judgment approaches,

and I am the judge.

He is Judge Zephaniah Burton, Ephrem's father.

Who's Ephrem?

A man who was hanging around Claypoole when Mark

and I were living there, wild, loud-mouthed

kid about 20 or so.

Nobody paid much attention to him except when he was drunk,

then he was wild, excitable.

Like the day exploded, it's been over a year or more,

and I can see it like it was yesterday.

Sunday morning church was over, Mark and I

were leaving when Ephrem from down the street

leading his horse, he was drunk as a hoot owl

and cuss-in to beat all get out.

The preacher, one of the deacons went over to shut him up,

next thing we knew there was a gun in Ephrem's hand,

and he started shooting.

When he stopped the deacon was dead,

and two little girls were wounded.

Ephrem got on his horse and rode out of town,

I was on the posse that went after him, wasn't hard to trail

a half-loco, drunk kid.

We cornered him on a ledge in a box canyon,

the only way to get at him without someone getting

killed was what this.

Sheriff said I--

I wasn't to kill him, just wound him.

I did, shattered his leg, we brought him back to be

tried, convicted, and hung.

And he was legal, no lynching?

That's the way folks wanted it, why I got that letter.

Only the hanging had to wait until after he was all healed,

Mark and I left before that, came here and settled.

Well, after it was all over, Judge Harlow and I

got letters both about the same, in that handwriting signed

by Judge Zephaniah Burton.

They raved about how no boy of his could do wrong,

and how he'd sit in judgment of the men who judged his son,

sit as judge and executioner.

Well, why was nothing done, there were threats?

We tried to check up, the letter came from Kentucky.

We found out there was a circuit riding Judge named Zephaniah

Burton, a harsh unyielding man, regular hanging

judge, who just lost an election there,

nobody knew where he'd gone.

They questioned Ephrem, but he claimed he had no father,

said he never knew who he was, I guess he was denying the man.

Do you recollect where in Kentucky the letter came from?

Freemansboro, why?

Well, I'd like to get a look at this man, wouldn't you?

I sure would, it's no good for a man to pick this up every

time a stranger rides by.

Yes, Micah, it would be a real welcome

to know what the man looks like, who wants to kill me.

If you haven't got those coals hot enough

by the time I get back from school, Pa,

I'll show you how to do it.

Now you just show yourself the multiplication tables, huh.

All right.

But if you didn't pack the coals so tight

you'd get a better draft.

You just better get yourself to school boy.

Bye, Pa.

Well, it looks like you hurt your leg sweetie pie,

we'll take good care of that.

For the prodigal son was prepared,

but for my son a hangman's rope.

Don't turn around, unless you would

look into the face of death.

Can I put the calf down?

Gently, for I am not here to pass judgment on a calf,

nor on a man, since it has been revealed

to me that you too have a son.

That is right, for I am the judge,

and this is my judgment, an eye for eye, a tooth for a tooth,

a son for a son.

It is simple, poetic justice.

Yeah, simple, poetic justice.

My son could have been guilty of no evil, all my life

I've been a judge of evil, I raised him

in a stern and righteous mold, punishing harshly, and swiftly,

when he strayed from the path of righteousness.

My son did no evil, but all of you who persecuted him did.

So you must suffer as I have suffered, waiting endless hour

upon hour for my son to hang.

For this the judgment I pronounce upon you, that you

wait for the death of your son.

That you'll count the minutes and the hours

as the sun passes across the heavens,

knowing that the moment approaches when

I the judge, I the jury, will act as executioner

as hangman for your son.

Soon the scales of justice will be balanced.

Why not now?

You've got me.

This is not for you, there was no hangman's noose for me,

but for my son.

Listen, it's me, I'm the one that caught your boy,

I'm the one you have to judge and punish.

And this is my judgment, that as I waited for my son to hang,

so shall you wait for yours to do likewise.

If you touch him, if you harm him, I'll kill you,

you hear me!

So help me, I'll kill you if I have to crawl

back from my grave to do it!

Judge Burton, do you believe in the law?

That's all I did, upheld the law, a legal jury brought--

arrgh.

Hello boy.

Mr. McCain around?

Ain't you his son?

Heck, no.

And I'm sure glad I ain't Mark, he won't

be home until way past dark.

Way past dark?

That's what he told me to tell his Pa.

Teacher caught him pitching spitballs,

so he's got to cut a whole cord of kindling,

that's a big heap of wood.

You tell Mr. McCain?

I'll tell him boy.

Thank you, sir.

Joy on your face, well, judgment will still be mine.

Even the patience of a judge can be sorely tried,

I'm going after your boy, and bring him here.

Arrgh.

Yes.

I've come for Luke McCain's boy.

Is something a matter?

Yes ma'am, Mr. McCain's been hurt.

Pa?

Yes, boy.

You may be excused Mark.

Is it serious?

Serious ma'am, but not fatal, a badly broken ankle.

How'd it happen?

I found him on the road, his wagon hit a rut,

it turned over, your Pa tried to jump free

but his foot got caught.

What is it boy?

I was just giving thanks it weren't no worse.

You are a God fearing boy?

Of course, sir.

That's good boy, good.

Come on, I'll show you where your Pa is.

Let's hurry.

Yes.

Arrgh.

Arrgh.

Arrgh.

Hey, mister, you all right?

What, what happened?

Well, your horse must of stumbled, how do you feel?

I don't, my head, it hurts here from.

I'll get somebody.

Oh, no, don't.

Don't deny your Pa.

Pa?

I raised you right boy, in the paths of righteousness,

if was strict and hard it was for your own good Ephrem,

you understand that boy, don't you, you understand that?

Sure.

I knew you would boy.

They was lying when they said you did evil to deny me,

wasn't they?

Of course, but don't talk so much.

Pa, say it Ephrem, call me Pa.

I want them to hear it, that you never denied me,

say it boy, Pa.

Pa.

Thank you, boy.

How are you?

Poorly, I'm afraid.

You know who I am now?

Luke McCain's boy, you could have gone on,

but you stayed here caring for me.

You were kind of out of your head

there for a while, kept on calling me Ephrem,

and asking me to call you Pa.

And did you?

Sure did, I was afraid not to.

Thanks, boy.

Boy, I'd be pleased for a drink of water.

I'll get you some.

You stinking dirty devil, I'll kill you with my bare hands!

I'll see you in fire and brimstone for the devil scum

you are!

Pa, Pa.

Mark.

It's a rattler Pa, I didn't see it, he shot it.

Mark, oh, son.

He said your ankle was broke, you

said my Pa's ankle was broke.

I did boy.

I don't understand Pa.

I don't know whether to kill you, or thank you.

Why did you save him?

I saved him from the mercy of the Lord god Jehovah,

who has permitted me some atonement

for the evil I have wrought.

For he is the true judge of all things, and I am but his.