Original subtitles

Allow me to properly

introduce myself.

I'm Oswaldo Mobray,

the hangman in these parts.

(John chuckles)

-La-di-da.

-Ah.

Looks like I brought you

a customer.

Yeah, so it would appear.

You ever spent two days or more

locked up with one

of your customers before?

-I can't say I have.

-Don't talk to my prisoner.

I talk to my prisoner,

that's it.

-You got it?

-I got it.

(chuckles)

Jolly good.

You got anything in here

besides coffee

that can help warm us up?

Well, the bar is open.

Follow moi.

(chuckles)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(wind whistling,

horses chuffing)

Line, O.B.!

O.B.:

Oh, whoa.

Oh.

Whoa.

♪ ♪

BOB:

Hey.

(horse neighing)

Whoa, Ace, whoa.

You're all right.

You're all right.

CHRIS:

Come on, goddamn it. I'm cold!

(horse neighing)

BOB:

I'll feed and water the horses.

You go inside

and get some hot coffee.

Got some stew cooking.

Should be done soon.

Now, look.

No matter how bad

this blizzard gets,

we still got to feed

these horses

and take a squat

from time to time.

So me and Chris

better lay out a line

from the stable

to the front door

and from the front door

to the shithouse.

Okay?

Good idea.

Come on, Chris.

I'll give you a hand.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

Go inside. Get warm.

You're doin' stable work

in a goddamn blizzard.

I offer to help, you say no?

You're right, amigo.

Muchas gracias.

O.B.:

All right. Follow me.

(O.B. and Chris grunting)

(grunting continues)

We're gonna drop one

every ten paces,

-from here to the door.

-Yeah!

All right!

(coughing)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Now, you're wanted for murder.

For the sake of my analogy,

let's just assume

that you did it.

Now, John Ruth wants

to take you back to Red Rock

to stand trial for murder.

And if you're found guilty,

the people of Red Rock will

hang you in the town square.

And, as the hangman,

I will perform the execution.

And if all those things

end up taking place,

that's what civilized society

calls justice.

However,

if the relatives

and the loved ones

of the person you murdered

were outside that door

right now,

and after busting down

that door,

they drug you out into the snow

and hung you up by the neck,

that would be frontier justice.

Now, the good part

about frontier justice

is it's very thirst-quenching.

The bad part is

it's apt to be wrong as right.

Well, not in your case.

In your case,

you'd have it coming.

But other people,

maybe not so much.

OSWALDO: But ultimately,

what's the real difference

between the two?

The real difference is me.

The hangman.

To me, it doesn't matter

what you did.

When I hang you, I'll get no

satisfaction from your death.

It's my job.

I hang you in Red Rock.

I move on to the next town.

I hang someone else there.

The man who pulls the lever

that breaks your neck

will be a dispassionate man.

And that dispassion

is the very essence of justice.

For justice delivered

without dispassion

is always in danger

of not being justice.

How about that cowboy fella?

What's he writing in that book?

His diary, I suppose.

-What's his story?

-Don't know.

-He doesn't say much. -What do

you mean he doesn't say much?

You rode up that whole mountain

together, didn't you?

-And he didn't say much.

-(sighs) What's his name?

-I don't know.

-He never said his name?

I don't think so.

(sniffs)

JOHN:

No offense, cowboy fella.

Just gettin' your attention.

Yeah, well... (sighs)

you got it.

What you writin', friend?

Only thing I'm qualified

to write about.

What's that?

My life story.

You're writing your life story?

You bet I am.

Am I in it?

(chuckles)

You just entered.

(chuckles)

Well, you like

writing stories so much,

why don't you tell me

the story that brings you here?

Who's asking?

I am. John Ruth.

I'm bringing in this one

to Red Rock to hang.

And ain't no way I'm spending

a couple of nights

under a roof with somebody

I don't know who they are,

and I don't know who you are.

So, who are you?

Joe Gage.

-What?

-That's my name.

Joe Gage.

Okay, Joe Gage.

Why you going to Red Rock?

I ain't, I ain't,

I ain't going to Red Rock.

Where you going?

About nine miles

outside of Red Rock.

What's there?

My mother.

Your mother?

Listen, I'm just a cowpuncher.

I just, uh, got back

from a long drive, and...

and I wasn't just an ass

in a saddle this time.

I was a partner.

First time in my life

I made a pretty penny.

And, uh, figured I'd come home

and spend time with my mother

for Christmas.

Now, that's funny.

(chuckles)

'Cause you don't look like

the coming-home-for-Christmas

type.

Yeah, well, (laughs)

you know,

looks can be deceiving.

Because I definitely am a...

coming-home-for-Christmas-

to-spend-time-with-Mother type.

Christmas with Mother,

I mean, uh,

it's a wonderful thing.

Now, is that, uh,

good enough for you, John Ruth?

For now.

You steer clear of my prisoner.

Hello, old-timer.

General.

General.

You, sir, are a hyena.

I have no wish to speak to you.

I've been called worse.

(sighs) Fair enough, General.

Sorry to bother you.

-(pounding)

-CHRIS and O.B.: Hey!

-You gotta kick it open!

-Gotta kick it open!

-CHRIS and O.B.: What?!

-Kick it open!

-That latch, you gotta kick it

open! -You gotta kick it open!

CHRIS:

Jesus Christ!

-JOHN: Close it!

-DOMERGUE: Close it!

-JOHN: Close the door!

-CHRIS: What?!

-DOMERGUE: Close it!

-JOE: The goddamn door!

JOHN: It doesn't have a latch!

Close it!

JOE: It's already

cold enough in here!

(groaning)

JOHN:

Doesn't have a latch.

-You gotta hammer up a board.

-JOE: You gotta nail it shut!

The hammer and nails

by the door.

There's a hammer

and nails right there!

Ah, God!

-Hold this here, Chris.

-Here! Here.

-O.B.: Watch your fingers.

-CHRIS: Yeah.

-Really nail it in!

-O.B.: Yeah.

JOHN:

You need two pieces of wood.

You got to hammer another one.

JOE:

One ain't good enough!

It's gonna blow right open!

Now, goddamn it!

Gonna open if you don't ham...!

-Shut up!

-CHRIS: Ah, got it!

-O.B.: Son of a bitch!

-(Chris groans)

(panting)

Jesus Christ.

That's door's a whore.

(tosses hammer on floor)

Oh.

I get it. "Haberdashery."

That was a joke.

-How's the coffee?

-(coffee pouring)

JOHN: Now? Pretty good,

if I do say so myself.

Thank you.

(sighs, pants)

Ooh!

(Chris sighs)

(Chris panting, shivering)

Ha! Navajo!

Guess who he is.

Buffalo Bill?

(laughs) Hardly.

No. I'm Oswaldo Mobray.

I'm the...

He's the hangman of Red Rock.

Oh, you are?

-Yes, I am.

-(laughs): Well!

-Uh, good to meet you, uh,

-Yeah.

-Mr....?

-Uh, Mobray.

-Mobray.

-Yeah.

I'm Chris Mannix.

The new sheriff in Red Rock.

-Really?

-Pfft, horseshit!

Pay no attention to him.

Horseshit!

Fella warmin' himself

by that potbelly stove

-is a hell of a driver

named O.B. -Ah.

That's the only thing

you've said that's the truth.

You comin' into Red Rock

to hang Lance Lawson?

-Precisely. -Do you have

the execution orders on you?

-In my bag.

-May I see 'em?

Of course.

(chuckles)

(Chris sighs)

Who's, uh, who's Lance Lawson?

He's a fella been sittin'

in the Red Rock jail

about a month now.

He's the fella

who shot the fella

who was sheriff 'fore me.

-Precisely.

-(wind whistling)

(Chris mumbling)

Thank you.

(Chris shivers, exhales)

What did she mean

when she said,

"The bounty hunter's

nigger friend in the stable"?

He's got a nigger bounty hunter

friend in the stable.

But all that just to guard her?

Uh, I don't think that was

the original idea, but...

-that's the idea now.

-Oh. Mm.

Want a little snake bite

in your coffee?

-DOMERGUE: Yeah.

-(chuckles)

OSWALDO:

Five of you?

Well, well, well, looks like

Minnie's Haberdashery

is about to get cozy

for the next few days.

Yes, it does.

-Here.

-Ah. Ah.

(wind howling)

(Chris exhales)

Are you the chap

with the Lincoln letter?

The Lincoln what?

Yes. The letter

from Abraham Lincoln.

President Abraham Lincoln?

Yes. Weren't you pen pals?

With the president?

Well, I'm sorry, I heard

that somebody in your party

had a letter

from Abraham Lincoln.

I assumed it was you.

Not him!

The black fella in the stable.

The nigger...

in the stable has a letter

from Abraham Lincoln?

Yeah.

The nigger in the stable has

a letter from Abraham Lincoln?

(wind whistling)

(chickens clucking,

horse neighing)

What'd you say

your name was again?

-Bob.

-Warren.

Minnie and Sweet Dave in there?

Minnie and Sweet Dave

went to visit her mother

on the north side

of the mountain.

-What?

-Yeah.

Minnie ain't here?

Yes, they're visiting

her mother.

-Her mother?

-Yes.

Hmm.

Never knew Minnie had a mother.

Well, everybody's got a mother.

Yeah, I suppose.

(horse grunts, huffs)

And she left you in charge?

Si.

(Warren chuckles)

That sure don't sound

like Minnie.

Are you calling me a liar?

Well, not yet I ain't.

Just sounds peculiar is all.

What sounds peculiar?

Well, first off,

Minnie never struck me

as the sentimental type.

And secondly, I can't imagine

Sweet Dave lifting his fat ass

out his chair long enough

to fetch well water

unless Minnie was laying

a frying pan upside his head,

let alone take a trip

to the north side.

Well, that sounds a whole lot

like you're calling me a liar,

mi negro amigo.

(chuckles)

Yeah, it do sound a whole lot

like that, don't it?

But I still ain't done it yet.

Minnie still serve food?

-Do you consider stew food?

-Yes.

Then we serve food.

She still stinking up the place

with Old Quail pipe tobacco?

(Bob chuckles)

Minnie doesn't smoke a pipe.

She rolls her own.

Red Apple Tobacco.

But, mi negro amigo,

I think you already know this.

Yeah, I do, Señor Bob.

Just seeing if you do.

(wind whistling)

(Bob grunting)

(wind whistling)

BOB (faintly):

Come on!

Fill 'er up, O.B.

Yeah.

JOHN:

Goddamn it.

Thank you.

(exhales)

(slurps)

(exhales)

CHRIS: Well, cut my legs off

and call me Shorty.

Is that

General Sanford Smithers I see?

You got a good eye, son.

Ha-ha! Well, I'll be

double-dog damned!

General Sandy

"Don't Give a Damn" Smithers?

(Chris clears throat)

Captain Chris Mannix,

Mannix's Marauders.

Erskine's boy?

Yes, sir.

Uh... may I sit down, sir?

Well, according to the Yankees,

it's a free country.

General Sandy Smithers. Ha-ha!

Boy...

oh, boy,

did my daddy talk about you!

I heard you gave

those Blue Bellies sweet hell.

(Smithers chuckles softly)

Me and my boys did our part.

Just like Erskine and his boys

did their part.

Hell yeah, we did.

Yankee sons of bitches.

I never knew your father, son.

But I always respected

his resolve.

Well, thank you

for saying that, General.

Your respect would have meant

the world to him.

Can I get you some coffee?

That'd be nice.

Well, how about a blanket?

(Smithers chuckles)

That'd be even nicer.

Hell, you know what?

You can have mine.

(exhales)

Here we go, General.

Ha-ha! So what brings you

out Wyoming way, sir?

If you don't mind my askin'.

My boy.

-Oh, you got a boy that lives

in Red Rock? -My son.

Chester Charles Smithers.

He died out here

a few years back.

Oh, forgive me, sir.

There's no forgiveness

needed, son.

Like I said,

it was a few years back.

It was after

he'd served his service.

He came out here

to the hills of Wyoming...

to make his fortune.

(quietly):

Never to be heard from again.

I bought him a symbolic plot...

in the Red Rock cemetery.

And I'm here to advise

a stone maker on his headstone.

Was he a goner for sure?

No chance he could be livin'

the cold life

out in the woods?

It's a rough life,

but folks can learn it.

If he'd have done

what he came out here to do,

he'd have come home.

Where's home?

(chuckles)

Georgia.

Yeah.

Well, what say

we have us a drink?

To Chester Charles Smithers.

A drink to your service

to the South, sir.

And a drink

to the great state of Georgia.

Well, that's a drink I'd enjoy.

From Erskine Mannix's boy

to my boy.

And that's a drink

I'd like to drink.

Excuse me, General.

What's to drink, John Ruth?

Tequila and mescal.

-And brandy.

-Where's the brandy?

Over there.

Who's he?

Another passenger.

What's his name?

Joe Gage.

What's he writing in that book?

His life story.

Joe Gage, is it?

It is.

Pleased to meet you.

I'm Chris Mannix,

the new sheriff of Red Rock.

You, too, Chris.

Can me and my new friend

have some of your brandy, Joe?

Help yourself, Chris.

Thanks a bunch, Joe.

You're welcome, Chris.

General.

This is a drink

to Chester Charles Smithers!

This is a drink

to one man's commitment

to a cause.

And this is to the red

in Georgia clay!

Cheers.

Mmm. Ah.

General Sandy Smithers.

(laughs)

It's a small damn world.

I don't know about the world,

but this goddamn mountain sure

seems pretty fucking small.

-(wind howling, whistling)

-(Bob grunting)

BOB:

Hold it. Close it, close it!

(grunts)

You have to hold it closed

while I nail it shut.

WARREN: Well, who's the idiot

broke the damn door?

(stammering):

Oh, j-j-j...

just fucking hold it closed!

Orale, cabrón!

(wind whistling)

Hold it closed.

Okay.

One more.

BOB:

Keep holding, keep holding,

-mi negro amigo.

-(hammering continues)

(Bob mutters)

BOB:

We need two pieces of wood.

(hammering continues)

(Bob grunting)

Orale, cabrón!

All right.

There you go, motherfucker!

-(Bob sighs)

-(tosses hammer on floor)

Lot of hats, Señor Bob.

Huh?

Considering Minnie's

"no hats indoors" policy,

which, if I remember correctly,

was one of them

Bar of Iron rules.

Kind of rule she'd want kept up

in her absence.

You seem to have

a laissez-faire attitude

when it come to the hats.

I'm guilty.

I have a laissez-faire attitude

about the hats.

How about we forget

about the hats today

considering there is

a blizzard going on and on?

We'll make tomorrow

"No Hat Day"!

-OSWALDO: A large black dog.

-DOMERGUE: ♪ Now take my tip ♪

♪ Before you ship to join ♪

-His name was Henry, I believe.

-♪ The iron gang ♪

-Labrador.

-♪ Don't be too gay ♪

♪ In Botany Bay ♪

♪ Or else you'll surely hang ♪

♪ Or else you'll hang,

you'll hang, said he... ♪

-OSWALDO: You know, my daddy...

-(Domergue continues singing)

I-I said that my-my daddy

-always said that Davis...

-OSWALDO: A plum tree.

...was a courageous man,

but he should've

put the capital

in Montgomery and not Richmond.

Yes, sir.

I agree with that.

The army in northern Virginia

would've been used

in a very different way.

I said the army

of north Virginia would've been

used in a very different way!

DOMERGUE: ♪ They'll flog

the poaching out of you ♪

♪ Out there in Botany Bay. ♪

JOHN:

Shut up!

(wind continues whistling)

O.B.

Got a proposition for you.

Well... what do you propose?

You asked for $250

the first time, right?

Yeah.

Well, how about $350?

Well, how about it?

Help me take them fellas

down off the roof,

stash them in snow.

When the snow melts,

tie them back on.

The same deal?

About the booze

and them ladies in Red Rock?

(chuckles)

Mm-hmm.

You got yourself a deal, smoke.

(clears throat)

Oh, Major Warren,

this is, uh...

Oswaldo Mobray, Major.

At your service.

Oh-ho. You're the executioner

in these parts.

Yeah, precisely.

Well, fella over at the bar

brought you a customer.

So it would appear.

Yeah, well, my three felons,

they won't be needing

your services.

All right.

Do you know that nigger, sir?

I don't know that nigger.

But I know he's a nigger,

and that's all I need to know.

Well, that nigger

just ain't any nigger.

That nigger, he...

WARREN:

General Sanford Smithers?

Battle of Baton Rouge?

Inform the nigger

(chuckles): in the cavalry

officer's uniform

that I had

a division of Confederates

under my command...

in Baton Rouge.

Major Nigger, General Smithers

wishes me to inform you...

I heard him, hillbilly.

Inform this old cracker

that I was in Baton Rouge also.

On the other side.

Oh, that's interesting.

Uh, General Smithers,

he said that he was also in

Baton Rouge on the other si...

-(snaps fingers)

-Captain Mannix,

tell the nigger

that I don't

acknowledge niggers

in Northern uniforms.

WARREN: You captured

a whole colored command

that day...

but not one colored trooper

made it to a camp, did they?

We didn't have the time

or the food

nor the inclination

to care for Northern horses,

and least of all...

Northern niggers!

So we shot 'em

where they stood!

OSWALDO:

Gentlemen!

Gentlemen.

I know Americans aren't apt

to let a little thing

like unconditional surrender

get in the way of a good war.

But I strongly suggest

we don't restage

the Battle of Baton Rouge

during a blizzard

in Minnie's Haberdashery.

Now... my Nubian friend...

while I realize

passions are high,

that was a while ago.

And if you shoot

this unarmed old man,

I guarantee

I will hang you by the neck

until you are dead

once we arrive in Red Rock.

I damn well

guarantee that, too.

JOHN:

Yeah, Warren,

that's the problem

with old men.

You can kick 'em

down the stairs

and say it's a accident,

but you can't just shoot 'em.

OSWALDO: Uh, gentlemen...

since we may be

(smacks lips)

trapped here,

close together-like,

for a few days,

may I suggest

a possible solution?

We divide Minnie's in half.

The Northern side

and the Southern side.

With the dinner table...

operating as

a neutral territory.

We could say that

the fireplace side of the room

acts as a... a symbolic

representative of...

Georgia.

While the bar...

represents...

...Philadelphia!

Long as the bar's

Philadelphia...

I agree.

(urine sloshing)

(Domergue sighing)

(grunts)

Are you done yet?

The hell is this?

It's a chicken.

No, it's not.

It's a half-plucked chicken.

A half-plucked chicken

is bad luck,

and we don't need bad luck

in a blizzard.

Now, what's it doing here?

I was plucking it

when your stage arrived.

-Stopped to take care

of the passengers, huh? -Yeah.

Well, you're not taking care

of passengers now.

I thought better

to deal with the stew.

Pluck the chicken.

(Bob muttering in Spanish)

(sighs)

(piano plays cacophonous chord)

(muttering in Spanish,

striking piano keys)

Oh, that's Major Marquis,

the nigger that burnt down

Wellenbeck prison camp.

Killed 47 rebs and 37 Yankees.

Now, his own side drummed his

black ass out of the cavalry

with a yellow stripe

down his back.

-(wind howling)

-And the Confederacy, General,

if you will remember,

put a reward on that

nigger's head. $30,000!

And then it dropped down

to eight.

Last days of the war,

it was five.

Now, a lot of fellas went

looking to collect that reward,

and a lot of niggers

got their head chopped off.

But nobody ever did get them

the right nigger head.

-That nigger...

-(hammering continues)

is the nigger with

the $5,000 reward on his head?!

CHRIS: Well, there ain't

no reward no more.

But during the war, yeah.

That's that nigger.

(hammering continues)

(O.B. grunts, pants)

That damn door

is a dirty whore.

JOHN:

I just made some more coffee.

Grab some cups

and get some in ya.

We still got that deal

we talked about in the wagon?

-O.B.: Thank you. -I help you

protect your $8,000,

-you help me protect my ten?

-Yeah, I suppose.

One of them fellas

is not what he says he is.

O.B.:

What is he?

In cahoots with this one,

that's what he is.

One of them,

maybe even two of them,

is here to see

Domergue goes free.

To accomplish that goal,

they'll kill everybody in here.

They got 'em a couple of days,

so all they got to do

is sit tight

and wait for

a window of opportunity.

And that's when they strike.

Huh, bitch?

If you say so, John.

Are you sure you ain't

just being paranoid?

Our best bet is

this duplicitous fella

ain't as cool a customer

as Daisy here.

He won't have

the leather patience it takes

to just sit here and... wait.

-(strikes piano keys)

-Waiting for an opportunity

and knowing it's the right one

isn't so easy.

He can't handle it,

he'll stop waitin'.

Try and create his opportunity,

and that's when Mr. Jumpy

reveals himself.

Now, what you got to say

about all this?

What do I got to say?

About John Ruth's ravings?

He's absolutely right.

Me and one of them fellas

is in cahoots.

We're just waiting

for everybody to go to sleep.

(whispers): That's when

we're gonna kill y'all.

JOHN:

Okay, everybody.

Hear this.

This here is Daisy Domergue.

She's wanted dead or alive

for murder.

$10,000.

(sniffs)

That money's mine, boys.

Don't want to share it,

and I ain't gonna lose it.

When that sun comes out,

I'm taking this woman

into Red Rock to hang.

Now...

...is there anybody here

committed to stopping me

from doing that?

JOHN:

Really?

Nobody got a problem with this?

(logs crackling in fireplace)

(bedsprings creaking)

Well...

I guess that's

very fortunate for me.

However...

I hope you all understand

I can't just take your word.

Circumstances force me to...

take...

precautions.

When you say...

"precautions"...

why do I feel that you mean me?

Because I'm gonna

take your gun, son.

You are?

Yes, I am.

-Nothing personal.

-Just mine?

Hangman's got himself

a gun, too.

I'll be dealing with his gun

after I deal with yours.

-(clears throat softly)

-(wind whistling)

I feel kind of...

naked without it.

JOHN:

Oh, I still got mine.

I'll protect you.

(laughing)

(panting softly)

A bastard's work is never done.

Huh, John Ruth?

That's right, Joe Gage.

-Now, give me the gun.

-If you want it...

...you're gonna have

to come and take...

Calm down.

(Joe grunts)

Take your hand away

from your gun.

Blink if you're calm.

He blink?

He blinked.

Blink if you're

gonna remain calm.

He blinked.

Take his pistol.

(clucks tongue)

I'm real sorry about this, son.

(sighs):

Like I said...

nothing personal, just...

a precaution.

-(blade rings)

-(Joe exhales)

(wind whistling)

(groaning)

Pretty sneaky.

(chain clinking)

Afraid the same applies

to you, too,

Mr.... Mobray.

Ah, precautions must be taken

because life

is too sweet to lose.

Hand me that little bucket.

O.B.

Go to the outhouse.

Take this bucket and...

dump it down the shithole.

Why do I got to go outside?

Well, your jacket's already on,

and I sorta kinda trust you.

When we get to Red Rock,

I'll replace

the weapons you lost.

That's the best I can do.

When he leaves, you and you...

nail the door behind him.

Get to it!

(wind howling)

(grunting)

(hammer pounding)

You, back to the bar.

You, back to the bed.

You were doing good

the way you were, lying down.

So, lie down!

Okay, Mr. Mex,

where's your guns?

I don't have a gun.

What's that?

Oh, well...

there is that.

Take it off the wall

and put it on that table.

Open your coat.

Wide open.

Sit your ass down

on that bench.

(Domergue shouts)

So...

any more guns

I don't know about?

Now, later on, I'm gonna

remember asking this question

and I'm gonna remember

your answer, so one more time.

Any more guns

I don't know about?

I just want to make

an announcement.

What announcement?

Stew is on.

♪ ♪