Original subtitles

Well that's it.

That ain't enough, mister.

Well, I just paid you every cent I have, Mrs. Hackett.

You're still five dollars shy, Sam!

Looks like another deadbeat.

I was only planning on staying one day.

Wasn't my fault the army quarantined the place.

Sam, see what he's got in that bag.

Now hold on a second.

I'm good for the money.

I'll send it to you later.

You pay now.

There's nothing of value in there.

We'll see.

What's this?

A journal of no value to you.

You a writer?

Someday I hope to be.

We'll keep this, Reb.

I already told you there's nothing of value in there.

Except this journal, to you.

Now you bring the rest of that money by tonight,

or I'll burn this.

Wait a second mister, you can have

anything else in the bag but I'll take the journal.

You're gonna rot a long time in jail, mister.

Take his gun and go get the sheriff, Sam.

Mrs. Hackett, there's no need of that.

I'll pay his bill.

Thank you ma'am.

Sam.

Mighty grateful to you, ma'am.

I've got a job riding with a cattle drive up north.

I'll be sending you the money in about a month.

Little gift besides.

You can repay me right now, young man.

I've had the opportunity to

watch you for the past few weeks.

Have you ever heard of general Tarrington?

And his unsurrendered sword?

General Thomas T. Tarrington.

Jackson was the backbone.

Jeb Stuart and Tom Tarrington,

the fists of the Confederacy.

You knew my husband?

No, but that's what Robert E. Lee said about him.

The general refused to surrender his command and sword

even after epimatics.

I heard he chose exile to Mexico.

So you're his wife.

His widow.

He died.

In a miserable little Mexican town.

A place called Gomera.

You want his body?

I want his sword.

It's been in the Tarrington family since Saratoga.

All the honor left in the family is in that sword.

I'll pay you and your expenses and as much

as $500 to whoever has it.

I lost my sons, my husband,

and a way of life that went up in the smoke of Atlanta.

Get that sword for me, young man.

The Tarrington sword belongs here, not in Gomera.

Don't push!

I am the law in Gomera, senor.

I am the one who says who carries the guns.

Yeah.

Merely a precaution, senor.

There are too many Americanas in uniform in Mexico

these days, and not all of them are peaceful men.

I'm not looking for trouble.

No, but you are looking for the general Tarrington.

The people in Gomera, they talk.

Senor I knew the general.

He was not much of a man.

I didn't come here to get your opinion.

But I'm gonna give it to you anyway.

The opinion of Guido Morales, jefe of Gomera,

and some very good advice senor.

If you have a good memory of the general, keep it.

And do not stay too long in Gomera.

I've got legitimate business here.

Senor, the general is dead.

Let the dead lie.

I didn't come here to disturb him or his memory.

I came for one thing only,

the general's sword.

Why do you want it?

I don't, his widow does.

Senor.

Where will you begin to look for it?

The people of Gomera, they talk.

I'll look where he died.

The house of Juanita Flynn.

Was he really a general, Mr. Yuma?

Yeah, that he was.

I always thought he was a liar.

Well I didn't come here to discuss the general.

But you want his sword.

I don't think my sister will part with it, Mr. Yuma.

You see, so little happened in Juanita's life until...

Manuel.

Oh Juanita.

This is Johnny Yuma.

Ma'am.

He wants to talk to you about general Tarrington.

I'm afraid there's little I have to say.

Something much warmer and more human than tradition.

It's all I have left of him now.

Well many people in the south

feel that Tarrington was a great man.

He was a drunk, Mr. Yuma, and a coward.

He always talked about going back,

but he never got farther north than that hill out there.

I think you'd better go, Mr. Yuma.

Mrs. Tarrington will give $500 for that sword.

American money?

That's right.

- You can have it. - No!

What can it mean to you after what happened?

What happened?

Nothing happened!

You were with the general when he died?

Yes I was here.

How did he die?

His widow should know.

He...

He died suddenly, Mr. Yuma.

We should have taken the $500.

We won't talk about it, Manuel.

Oh but we will.

What are you planning to make of it, a shrine?

There are some things in this world

that are more important than money, my dear brother.

Not to me, my dear sister.

To Juanita Flynn maybe, who teaches school in Gomera.

Oh shut up!

Who can never find a man quite good enough for her,

until a no-good rotten drunken

confederate soldier came along.

You never did have any family pride, did you?

Pride?

Pride was something I could never afford.

It takes money to live the way I want,

and now I'm going to have that money.

You shouldn't do this to me.

Doesn't look like it's worth more than $10,

but if his widow is willing to pay 500 for it,

maybe I could get even more from a rich, proud southerner

in a place like New Orleans.

You know my dear sister Juanita,

perhaps your general Tarrington

was good for something after all.

You've always taken everything

from me just like a parasite!

Well you're not going to take this away from me!

You'll never have it!

If I'm a parasite what was he?

You can't have it!

Si senor, shopping?

Not yet.

Ah, that is the mistake we all make, senor.

To wait until it is too late,

then someone else orders and maybe they have better taste.

Well, that's a chance I'll have to take.

I'm told you're the undertaker here.

I am an artist, senor, in stone.

But sometimes to make a living, I take care of the dead.

Well then you must have buried a man named Tarrington.

- El general? - Yeah.

Si.

How'd he die, senor?

His widow has a right to know.

He was stabbed, senor, spitted

like on a sword.

Did you see senorita Flynn?

Yeah, I found her uncooperative.

Then why do you stay?

- Curiosity, Morales. - About what?

About who murdered general Tarrington.

I was expecting you, jefe.

You told the Americano?

It is dishonest to lie.

Honesty is a virtue, Pablo

but there are times when it is not wise.

I told him part of the truth.

How he died.

We're not all blind, nor are we all in love

with the senorita Flynn.

How do we know what the truth is?

If senorita Flynn did not kill him,

then who did?

You never tried to find out.

Oh go away.

Go away and leave me.

What happened?

Oh why did you come back?

Why, didn't you do enough?

Just leave me alone.

I just want to help you.

Oh you get out, get out!

- I want to help you! - Get out!

Get out!

Out, get out!

Why did you lie to me?

I found out the general was stabbed to death.

There's some things you have no right to know.

Things that do not concern you.

The general's sword does, Ms. Flynn.

Well go and find it then.

Manuel has taken it to New Orleans to sell it.

You walk softly, Mr. Yuma,

and you must have eyes like a cat.

Anybody can spot a campfire at night.

But first you must know where to look.

There are only two ways across the river from Gomera,

and only one logical way for a man headed for New Orleans.

Oh, I see my dear sister told you huh?

She should have taken the $500 I offered.

You both would have been better off.

Maybe I can get more in New Orleans.

You're not going to New Orleans.

Not with that sword.

Well perhaps you're right, Mr. Yuma.

I'll take the $500.

And keep the sword.

I'll take the sword.

It belongs to senorita Flynn.

It's for her to decide.

It's for you to decide.

You wish to keep it?

Yes.

You'd do anything for her, wouldn't you Morales?

Even condone murder.

Even kill.

You see my dear sister, Morales covers for you.

He thinks he's protecting you.

Shut up!

Don't you think she knows how you feel, Morales?

But you never had a chance.

You remind her too much of our weak little Mexican mother.

You talk to me about pride, my dear Juanita,

but what kind of pride did you have

when you took up with that miserable...

Must you take everything from me?

Tell Mr. Yuma about pride, Juanita,

and how it won't allow you to admit the truth.

That you weren't good enough for that man

who reminded you so much of our fine Irish father.

A drunken soldier who lived here

and took everything you gave him.

No, I was not good enough.

Is that what you wanted to hear?

I took him in

when he was sick, no money.

A drifter like all the others.

But I thought he needed me.

I thought he loved me.

But he couldn't love me.

He was a man tortured

by what he'd done.

He'd made a legend of himself in his own country,

and he couldn't go back.

He was afraid.

He was afraid of prison and a life that he no longer knew

and didn't dare face.

So you killed him.

No.

Oh I didn't kill him.

No.

He killed himself.

This, this sword.

It's become such a wonderful symbol.

This cheap piece of steel, used only for killing.

Here Mr. Yuma, you can have it.

I don't want it now.

Three's a crowd, Manuel.

There's your passport out of Gomera.

The Tarrington sword.

My husband was a great man.

Someday this will hang in the museum at Richmond.

Tribute to him and to all the south.

Johnny?

Tell me, how did he die?

Well...

His last thoughts were of home.

And the other woman?

What was she like?

The other woman?

If I knew my husband,

he was a tortured man.

Thank you, Johnny.

Thank you for the sword,

and the white lie.