All language subtitles for The Rifleman - 1x06

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.