All language subtitles for 02 - The Horage Best Story

This is a wagon train rolling off the

long miles between no one has any idea

of the closest friends he has.

The men who worked shoulder to shoulder

with him during the years past are

suddenly strangers, sometimes annoying strangers.

All right, what is it?

You know what it is.

It's that time of the year again.

We got things to talk about.

And by things, we mean money.

Boys, I'm busy.

I'm perfectly willing to talk money

with you, but I'll talk when I'm ready

and not until.

It takes a lot of capital to set up a

wagon train.

I've only known one man in my life that

didn't worry about money, and at that

time, I hadn't met him yet.

To sing a worried song, it takes a

worried man.

To sing a worried song, it takes a

worried man.

To sing a worried song, I'm worried now.

You've been making out your own supply

list for years.

I don't see any reason why you can't

solve this little problem by yourself.

I can, but you've changed everything

this year.

You got 17 more mouths for me to feed,

and I don't even know whether I'm

getting paid for it or not.

I don't know a cook on all the whole

trail that gets less wages than I do.

I know what the other wagon masters are paying.

You do not.

They don't tell you the truth.

They want you to be known as an old skinflint.

Skinflint?

Yeah, I've heard you called Skinflint,

Pipewad, and Scrooge, all within a

matter of five minutes.

What's so funny about that, Mr.

McCullough?

Oh, it's just Charlie there.

He's got a wonderful knack of putting

his finger on things.

You know, Major, speaking for myself, I

always have to lie for you.

Every time somebody wants to know how

much money I make, I always triple the price.

Are you telling me that other men in

your same job get three times as much

money as you?

Oh, no, just twice as much.

But in order to save your face, I

figure I might as well make you look

real good.

Oh, well, thanks a lot.

They tell me that a good scout can just

about name his own price.

Do you know what people call the kind

of money you pay me?

Slave wages.

Why, I can hardly keep my head up.

Well, uh, just how much money is it

going to take for you three boys to be

able to hold your heads up again?

Every man has the right to advance in

the world, and the time comes when

every man feels he's gone as far as he

can in the job that he's in.

Are you telling me that you're not

going to go out with me this year?

I'm telling you, I'm looking around.

What about you two?

That go for you also?

Goes for me too.

Me too.

Why don't you look around, Major, and

find out what good experience men are getting?

And I want a little extra for the

insults I take all year, too.

Oh, you do, huh?

Well, what kind of a deduction do I get

for all the bellyaches you gave me?

You know, Major, I acted as wagon

master part of the time last year, and

I think I should get a little extra

consideration for that, too.

What about all the free experience you

got on my time?

And as for you, what about all those

times that you went off on your own?

Do I get some kind of an allowance for that?

No, no.

Maybe I better look around a little.

Why don't you do that, Major?

I'm sure that you could pick up lots of

inexperienced men for very little money.

Listen, you three.

Don't you ever get the idea that I

can't manage without any or all of you?

Of course, for the next few days I'm

going to do what I've always done, and

I'm sure that Bill and Charlie will do

the same.

That's right, Flint.

You're the leader.

You know what you're doing, don't you?

You're leading a mutiny.

Right now I'm going down to look at

some Seminole ponies.

Seminoles?

Are they up here?

Yeah, five of them.

They've been collecting horses all year long.

Well, are you going to look at them for me?

Of course.

Thanks a lot.

I've got to go down to Creel, too.

My day at the desk.

For two cents, I'd give you the whole

goddarn outfit.

So, get out of here.

Wait a minute!

Wait a minute!

Can you tell me where I might find

Major Seth Adams?

Yeah, right up the end of the stairs,

the last door on the left.

Sure do.

Thank you kindly.

No problem.

Didn't you know we'd draw one like that?

Yeah, it's green horns like that that

makes the west unsafe, too.

Yeah.

Come on.

Where are we going?

I'm a -looking for Major Seth Adams.

Well, you found him, mister.

What can I do for you?

Cousin Major.

Cousin Major?

Yes, sir.

I'll bet you I'm the last one in the

world you expected to see walk through

that door today.

You call me cousin?

Yeah.

We're kinfolk.

I'm Tessie Best's little boy, Horace.

All growed up and pushed out of the nest.

Tessie who?

Tessie Best.

Tessie Claiborne, it was.

Tessie Claiborne, huh?

Yes.

I got a letter from Mama explaining me

to you.

Had it here someplace.

I don't seem to remember the name Claiborne.

Well, now, I might have confused you.

See, what was Mama's maiden name?

Was it Claiborne or was that Pappy

Number One?

No.

No, Pappy Number One was my Pappy.

His name was Best.

Now, Miss Claiborne, eh, he could have

been Pappy Number Two.

Or was that Three?

No.

No, no, no.

Three was Ravenel.

Yeah, Mama always liked that name.

I remember.

Matter of fact, when she married Pappy

Number Four, his name was Jones.

And she thought that was kind of a comedown.

So she called herself Mrs.

Ravenel Jones.

And then I remember when she married

Pappy Lightfoot, she called herself Mrs.

Ravenel Jones Lightfoot.

And one of your pappies was named Lightfoot?

Yeah, he was half Seminole Indian.

I wonder, could I have left that letter

out with Eva Maude?

Well, who is Eva Maude?

Pappy Number Six?

No.

No, no.

Eva Maude is my mule.

But I'm sure going to tell Mama about

that because if there's anything Mama

admires, it's a good laugh.

Well, you didn't bring Mama with you,

did you?

No, no.

You can't drag Mama away from them

magnolias and moonshine.

Now, why can't I think of that name?

It's right on the tip of my tucket.

Tip of your what?

Tucket, tucket, tucket.

You know, with five pappies a -coming

and a -going, a boy's got to get a

little bit confused.

Well, you sure got me confused, mister.

If you got five pappies, four of them

have got to be a little bit illegal.

You don't understand.

We just had them one at a time, see.

My pappies never lasted too long once

Mama got them back up there in the hills.

What did you do, talk them to death?

No.

You sure have got a good sense of humor.

You're a barrel of laughs.

You know what Cousin Major?

Stop calling me cousin.

Oh, darn it.

We couldn't possibly be related.

I don't know the names of any of those

people you're talking about.

Well, now, I wouldn't bet my handsome

cotton patch on that because we're

related, all right.

Those are my books now.

Just leave them be, will you?

Oh.

I ain't got work to...

Look, here's Mama's letter.

I knew I had it.

Oh.

Bayless.

Uh, Tessie Bayless.

That is Mama's maiden name.

Tessie Bayless, huh?

Uh -huh.

Receipt.

Dear Cousin Major, how are...

how are you?

I air fine.

I know you must have heard your Mama

speak of Mary Andrews.

Mary Andrews was your mother's father's

cousin, twice removed.

She married Gerald McVeigh, and Gerald

McVeigh's cousin, three times removed,

was Hubert Best, my first husband, and

little Horace's father.

Now, didn't I tell you Mama would get

everything all cleared up?

Yeah, she sure did.

But this here Mary Andrews, now who did

she marry?

Gerald McVeigh.

And who was he?

He was my father's cousin, three times removed.

Yeah, but who was Mary Andrews?

Mary Andrews was your mother's

brother's cousin, twice removed.

Twice removed.

Well, how did we get back to Gerald

McVeigh then here?

Well, we got back to him through my

father's great -uncle's children's children.

Didn't we?

Well, how in tarnation would I know?

Well, I don't know.

All I know is that Mama figured it all

out on the kitchen table using dried vegetables.

Now, the Andrews were the corn, the

McVeighs were the peas, the Bests were

the grits, and the Adams were the chitlins.

And when Mama got it all figured out,

you were my cousin, and we had a nice

kettle of beans for supper.

I air sending you your little cousin Horace.

He's learned all he can in Tennessee,

and it's time he was moving onward and upward.

I know you'll see that he gets a good

start in life and makes everybody in

Tennessee very proud of him.

I sure aim to try.

Well, you don't have to cry about it.

Well, it's the first time I've been out

of Tennessee, and it's a long way from

Mama's apron string.

Well, I suppose the first thing you

want's a job, huh?

No.

I don't want a job.

I want to be like you, Cousin Seth.

Yes, sir, you're my hero, even if you

are a Yankee.

Well, thank you, Horace.

Thank you very much.

But I do a job.

I know.

But there's a hoopty -doo a difference

between doing a job and having a job.

I aim to be a wagon master just like you.

Well, Horace, you work very hard, and

one of these years you might make it.

Well, I figure there's no time like the present.

The present?

Do you think that just any ninny can

take a wagon train clear across the

country to the coast?

No, I don't, but I drove a team of

mules once.

Well, that's not exactly the same.

Well, I know, but I'm from Tennessee,

and I catch on real quick.

Horace, have you ever been west?

No.

Well, I know where it is.

It's that way.

Look, I can find it.

I know I...

Look, the first time you went to

California, didn't you take out a wagon train?

Yes, but I had been in that part of the

country before, and I wasn't as young

and as green as you are.

Well, now, maybe I'm not as green as I look.

Remember, I got some pretty good

learning from them Tennessee preachers

and Tennessee peddlers.

And besides that, I had five different

pappies teaching me five different ways

to make a living, including Pappy Lightfoot.

Now, he could start out of the morning

with a blind, lame mule and wind up at

night with an acre of fine bottom land

and a crop ready to be harvested.

Pooster!

Now, don't you go fretting up any

worries or any wrinkles about me.

You know, just let me tag along for a

couple days.

Horace.

I'll get the hang of it.

Horace, just how much money have you

got to start this business of yours?

$184 .65.

A hundred and...

Well, that isn't enough to get you to

California alone.

If you're gonna set up a wagon train,

you need experienced hands, and

experienced hands cost you a lot of money.

Well, you can't even get decent help in St.

Louis anymore.

If you're gonna get a good wagon train

together, you gotta have a good crew,

and a good crew is worth their weight

in gold.

Yep.

There's no doubt about it.

A good crew is worth its weight in gold.

The next days were busy as they always are.

People came from the riverboats, the

trains, the stagecoaches, all kinds of

people, but people who were looking to

the west.

We were all over the place, and

wherever we were, Horace was close by, watching.

This is without a doubt the sorriest

-looking bunch that we have come across yet.

Well, they might look sorry horse, but

they're strong as a Tennessee mule, not

half as stubborn.

You know, my job's try to get them at a price.

Think maybe this might be the trader.

How?

How?

Hey!

Pappy!

Pappy Lightfoot!

Well, shut my mouth if it ain't little

old Horace, Pappy's own little old Lightfoot.

How are you, Pappy?

We done give you up for dead.

Keep your cotton -picking mouth shut,

and leave me for dead.

Say, your mama ain't with you, is she?

No, no.

Mama's back in Tennessee.

Well, that's a heartening piece of news.

You know, your mama can be a mighty

awesome woman when she loses that

Tennessee temper of hers.

He's right.

Oh, this is my Pappy.

This is Chief Lightfoot.

Hi, Chief.

Howdy.

Pappy, I want to tell you, you had the

nicest funeral back home.

It's just a pity that you couldn't have

been there.

Did I have a good turnout?

Oh, mercy, yes.

And Reverend Oaks, he said some of the

nicest things about you.

He said this one thing was real pretty.

He says he has gone to be with his ancestors.

Looks like you didn't quite make it, Chief.

Oh, no.

No, I'm right here.

Say, Horace, you...

you won't inform your mama on me, will you?

Oh, no, no.

I won't see mama till I get back from

California anyway.

Besides that, he always told me he used

to say, let sleeping dogs lie.

Now, that ain't no way to talk about

your mama.

I wasn't talking about mama.

I was talking about you.

Well, don't you tell her where I'm a

-sleeping at, either.

Horace, I got a lot of things to do,

and you got a lot to talk about.

I'll see you later about the horse, Chief.

Well, look, I can talk to Pap a little

later on.

See, I have to stick with Mr.

Hawks here like stick and plaster.

See, uh...

I'm going west.

Ah.

Well, I sure don't blame you, Horace.

I...

I've always had kind of a hankering to

go west myself.

See you later, Pap.

Say, Charlie, what do you figure it

costs to feed one man a day on the trail?

Oh, about a dollar a day, I guess that

is, if you give them anything halfway decent.

Yeah.

Well, now, just supposing, and it's a

round number, but, like, say you got

300 people, you could feed them a

little cheaper, maybe for, like, 75

cents a day, couldn't you?

Oh, I suppose so, but that would be

like running arrested, and not many

wagon trains carry that much help, you know.

Yeah, but just figure this, now.

Uh, 75 cents a day times 300 people,

that's, uh...

that's a tidy little sum.

Yeah, and you take that tidy little sum

and multiply that by 120 days it takes

to go west, you got a...

well, you got 120 tidy little sums is

what you got.

That's just exactly what you got, you

know it?

You know, things is beginning to simmer

down and make a little sense around here.

They are?

Charlie, you gave me something to think about.

I did?

How are you, Ed?

Say, here's a list of stuff I want to

get that wasn't on Charlie's list.

Oh, this is Horace Best.

Charlie says he got some new canteens,

I want to look at them.

Right.

How do you do, Mr.

Crook?

Horace Best.

I'm the major's cousin.

Oh?

You're the major's cousin?

Mm -hmm.

Oh.

Yeah, I can see the resemblance.

You can?

Well, it takes a minute, but I see it.

Any cousin of the major's is a cousin

of mine.

Well, that's mighty nice.

You certainly have a fine little

establishment here, uh, Cousin Crook.

I, uh, I may be, uh, doing a little

business with you myself one of these days.

Oh?

Well, delighted, uh, Cousin Best.

You'll be doing business with the most

honest grocery man in St.

Louis.

And you're a crook.

Well, that's my name, not my profession.

No, no, I'm a -joshin' you, Mr.

Crook.

Oh, I see.

Any time.

Throw in about a dozen of these things

for me.

You got that many?

Yes, I do.

All right, thanks.

Well, I'm gonna have to go with the

major, Mr.

Crook.

He just can't get along without me.

Oh?

Yes, I see the resemblance.

Hiya, Otto.

Hello, Major.

You know that special ammunition I

asked you to get?

It's already ordered.

Well, I want about three more cases.

Say, where have you been?

You almost lost me.

I was worried about you.

Otto, this is Horace Best.

This is Otto Osterloh.

Probably one of the best gunsmiths in

this part of the country and the best marksman.

Howdy.

Howdy.

Major.

Me and the major's cousins.

If I had this little stove, I could

cook inside the wagons on rainy nights,

and you'd have all the comforts of home.

Charlie, a wagon and a team can just

haul so much, and they've got to haul

necessities, not comforts.

I know it.

Look, I don't understand all I know

about that.

Why can't they haul a few comforts?

Why do people have to be cold and

uncomfortable just because they're

going west?

Horace, the wagon trail west is the way

it is, and until the railroads are

finished, nobody's going to change it.

Somebody's going to change it, Cousin Seth.

Maybe not me, but someday somebody's

going to come along and do something to

make that trail more comfortable.

Charlie, go on about your work.

I'll see you tomorrow, Otto.

Say, I may be giving you a little of my

business one of these days, Mr.

Osterloh.

It will be my pleasure.

Cousin Gillespie, he's one of the

finest wagon builders in this country.

I've been doing business with him for years.

Is he kinfolk, too?

Oh, no, everybody just calls him cousin.

Oh, hello, Mrs.

Gillespie, how are you?

Fine, thank you, Major Adams.

Oh, Major Adams is here.

Well, he knows where to find me.

Oh, Mrs.

Gillespie, this is Horace Best.

How do, ma'am?

Why, hello.

Why, what happened to your hair?

Oh, that's my semi -seminole clip.

You mean it hadn't got out this far yet?

I'm a pioneer.

Oh.

I'm the Major's cousin, ma'am.

You are?

I'm helping him.

Oh, well, my husband will want to meet you.

Come along.

Love, this is Horace Best, Major Adams' cousin.

How do.

Nice to meet you, young fella.

He's helping the Major.

Yes.

I'm trying out a new wagon tongue.

I've been thinking about it all winter.

I figure this one might hold up better

than the one I've been using.

See how he joins in there?

You ever see the running gear of a

wagon before, young fella?

No, I was just checking the bottom here.

Well, take a good look around.

You'll never see a better running gear

than mine.

Well, actually, I was really more

interested in the top.

That's the wrong place to start.

A good wagon begins with a good running gear.

If the running gear is no good, the top

ain't going anyplace.

Yes, sir.

I've been building wagons for over 30 years.

My wagons endure.

I said, my wagons endure.

You know, Pappy Claiborne once told me

about a fella who built a better

mousetrap, and the whole world beat a

path to his door.

You, uh, figuring I'm going into the

mousetrap business?

Maybe.

Maybe I am.

See, right there's the bunks.

There's your tools.

There's your water rack, right there.

Hi.

Charlie, the major signed up 72 wagons

so far.

Did he say anything about our rate?

No.

Did he to you?

No.

I wonder if he said anything to McCullough.

Hey, Charlie.

Yeah.

Charlie, look, right here is a little

rack where you put the little stove

that you've been hankering for.

By golly, that's great.

Yeah.

And right over here, here's them tables

and benches.

You know, they slide up and down on

pulleys, like I told you, just like the bunks.

That's what I call traveling first class.

What are them little doors for?

Well, behind them, we got little bins.

That's where you keep the vittles.

There is something that's sensible.

Tell you what I'm going to do.

I think I'll mosey over there to see

Cousin Gillespie and see if he's done a

hankering to build us a wagon just like this.

Gillespie won't do it, horse.

He only builds one kind of wagon.

The major's tried for years to change

him, but he can't change him.

Well, now, I always say, you never find

out nothing by not asking.

That's what I always say.

Horse, are you really figuring on going

west this year?

Well, I said I was.

Yeah, but you're not in business.

That don't make no never mind with me.

When I go, I go like a buzzard with his

tail wound up, and I'm gone.

And here I go.

Not fooling around with no country bumpkin.

It's like a cunning little dollhouse on wheels.

Dollhouse?

Who'd go west in a dollhouse?

I like the way you've planned your

storage space.

You know, storage space is very

important to a woman.

I know.

My mama was a woman.

Crossing the Rockies in a dollhouse.

Have you ever noticed that all wagons

seem to be built according to the way

that men want them?

Exactly.

And what do men know about housekeeping?

What do women know about wagons?

It isn't easy to get a woman to go west.

You've no idea how many men have to

cancel their orders because their wives

back out at the last minute.

Would take months to build a wagon like that.

He's got over 100 wagons ready to go now.

Were you thinking of making any changes

in the undergear?

No, no, mercy no.

It would be a sacrilege to tamper with

a Gillespie bottom.

Could your tops be put on our bottoms?

Mrs.

Gillespie, you are an absolute genius.

Why, of course they could, Mrs.

Gillespie.

Now, now, don't tell me, don't tell me.

I know what you're thinking.

I know you're thinking let's get a lot

of carpenters together and we'll get

some of them cutting out the sides and

some of them cutting out tables.

That's right, and another group to fit

them in the wagons.

Oh, Mrs.

Gillespie, I want to tell you you have

made me see the light.

We'll put on four shifts and we'll work

around the clock.

Keep your hands off my wagons.

My wagons have been the most famous in

the West for years.

Well, I guess I'll just have to make

other arrangements.

I guess the Gillespie wagons won't be

the most famous when these new ones

start rolling.

Well, don't try to persuade him, ma'am.

Just give me a little bit of advice.

Would you recommend that Mr.

Barnes as a wagon maker?

Well, he's a builder.

You'll never get across the plains in a

Barnes wagon.

How about Mr.

Cartwright?

He's a builder, too, and...

Can't tell one end of Cartwright's

bottom from the other.

I guess maybe I'd better go see Mr.

Graham.

Perhaps you should.

Cousin Gillespie isn't as young as he

used to be.

And neither is Graham.

I was younger than him to start with.

Perhaps it's time someone else took

over the wagon industry.

I ain't exactly in my grave yet.

You talk to Mr.

Graham.

I'm sure he'll find your ideas very exciting.

Graham builds his wagons out of

kindling wood.

What are you trying to do to this poor

little country boy?

How much money do you have to tie up in

these wagons?

Well, ma'am, you see, I wasn't exactly

figuring on paying you folks any money.

I was figuring on you paying me.

Paying you?

For my design, of course.

Well, now I've heard everything.

Your design is worth money.

How much do you want?

Well, ma'am, you see, cousin Gillespie

has always been a sort of a hero of mine.

And I thought it'd be awful nice if we

were his partners.

You see, I would furnish the design.

He would build the wagons.

Then we sell them.

And any profit we make, we split 50 -50.

That's an excellent proposition.

Thank you, ma'am.

Love?

Shake hands with your new partner.

Now then, we charge a dollar and a half

a day for each grown -up.

And I figure there's a tidy profit in that.

And you and me split that 50 -50.

You're never gonna get anybody to lay

out all that money just for meals.

Now, I've been doing a little checking

on what it costs just to join a wagon train.

Now, you know cousin Seth's price is as

cheap as anybody's, right?

Yes, it is.

And you ain't gonna whittle that none.

Well, I ain't figuring on whittling.

I'm chopping.

Chopping?

I ain't charging no fee at all.

No fee?

Well, you're out of business before you

get in.

No, you see, I'm not about to skin myself.

Because if I did that, Tennessee would

secede from me.

The way I figure I'm gonna take 50 % of

the profits from each special feature

that I'm offering.

No fee to join the train?

No fee.

No food to buy?

No food.

And three square meals a day?

There's no other train can compete with it.

Welcome to Horace Best Enterprises,

Cousin Crook.

And there's an honest dollar in this

for both of us.

Fine.

And I told them that every one of them

who buys their arms and ammunition from

you gets the course for a special cut

rate of $5.

Now then, if they have their own gun

and just buy the ammunition from you,

then the price is $10.

However, if they don't buy either one

from you, then we soak them a flat $50.

Let them.

That seems a little high.

I know, but we want to make darn sure

they do buy their ammunition from us,

for you.

Pap, I didn't come over to argue with you.

I come over to do you a favor and take

that string of skinny horses off of

your hands.

What's your price?

Well, now, I've been asking $40 a head

for them, and...

I know.

I know you've been asking $40 a head.

What are you taking?

What are you offering?

I'm offering $10 a head.

$10 a head?

Oh, now, Pap, you know darn well that's

$9 more than they're worth.

I'll take $35 a head for them.

$30.

That's rock bottom and dirt cheap.

$29 .50?

I'll tell you what I'll do.

I'll give you $11.

$12.

All right, if you're that hard up, $12 .50.

Pappy, remember now, you're supposed to

be a southern gentleman.

$12 .50, take it or leave it.

It just ain't no fun doing business

with kinfolk.

You're right, Pappy.

You know, the best thing you can do is

sell them horses to some stranger that

you ain't never gonna see again in your

whole life.

Hold on, hold on just a minute.

Horace, little old lightfoot.

Yeah?

I'll tell you what I'm gonna do.

Your old Pappy's just gonna go into

partnership with you.

Oh, I don't know about that, now.

I don't know if I can afford to be

partners with you, Pappy.

You see what I'll do?

I'll just go to work and get all the

horses and mules, and then you can take

them, sell them for whatever you can

get, and we'll just split the profit 50 -50.

That's a deal you made with the other merchants.

Oh, you know about that, too?

You bet your little old bean patch I do.

See, I'm a member of the Merchants' Association.

As usual, I was busy with a lot of problems.

After all, running a wagon train isn't

just running a country box social.

I forgot about Horace for a few days.

I even forgot to offer the boys the $20

raise I'd decided on giving them.

As it turned out, that's the one thing

I shouldn't have forgotten.

That cotton -picking old skinflint, he

ain't even offered us a raise.

I think he wants us to quit.

Now, Charlie, if Cousin Seth doesn't

want to hire you, I got a little

proposition for you.

Well, that's a mighty tempting offer, Horace.

I didn't know you had that kind of money.

Well, I am now a corporation.

I am a parent corporation called Horace

Best Enterprises.

I am half of eight baby corporations,

and if Cousin Seth doesn't want you,

Horace Best Enterprises sure does.

Horace, you're not serious, are you?

Well, I certainly am.

You just say the word, and I'll put it

in writing, Mr.

McCullough, because after all, you are

my hero.

Besides that, you're the best scout in

the business.

You put in with me, and half of

whatever I make is yours.

Well, I'll have to talk it over with

Major Adams first before I can give you

a final answer.

Oh, I want you to talk to the Major by

all means.

After all, your first obligation is to

Cousin Seth.

But, I mean, if it doesn't work out,

then I would appreciate you considering

my offer.

I will, Horace.

I'll give you a $20 raise, and you can

take it or leave it.

I'll leave it, and I'm leaving you, too.

All right, I'll give you $40.

I'm not interested in any of your boll

weevil offers.

Just what kind of money would it take, Mr.

Wooster, to get you interested?

Just twice what I got last year, and

also a helper.

Well, now, I'm not interested.

You're not?

No!

Major, I'm going to the highest bidder

you know.

Charlie, I will not be backed into any corner.

Going, going.

Major, you're going to miss me.

You won't have anybody to pick on.

Going, going, gone!

That's what I want, Major, and I think

I'm worth it.

Bill, let me ask you something.

What are you fellows trying to do, put

me out of business?

Well, you know, I'm not getting any

younger, and I'd like to make a little

money before I become an old man.

You're one of the best friends I've got.

Well, if I'm one of your best friends,

you want to see me get ahead, don't you?

Yes, but not to the point where I have

to go broke to do it.

Now, get out of here.

Goodbye.

I don't want a salary.

I want a percentage of the profits.

You are out of your cotton -picking head.

Say 25%.

Some scouts are asking for 50%.

Listen, I built this business up from nothing.

I took the risks.

I am entitled to the profit, and you

can take a look in that bank book, and

you'll find out they're not very much.

Well, I'm willing to share the risk

with you.

Look, if you have a bad year, 25 %...

No, no, no!

Well, that sounds pretty definite.

Golly, if I have to get this outfit on

the road by myself, I'll do it!

Good luck.

Hey, cousin.

Yes?

You're busy around here, aren't you?

Yes.

You know, cousin, I'm going to need

about six more wagons than I told you.

Could I get them about, say, two weeks

from Monday?

Not this year, Major.

Not this year?

Come to think of it, I guess not next

year either.

I'm working exclusive for one company now.

Didn't anybody tell you?

Ed, do you mean to tell me that you're

not sure that you can fill all my orders?

I don't think so, Seth.

You see, I'm afraid you're going to

find that there is a whole new era of

wagon -train travel.

Since when?

Overnight.

You see, there's newer thinking.

And if you'll forgive me, Seth, I'm

going to have to tell you younger thinking.

Younger thinking.

But, Otto, not you.

You're an intelligent man.

So are you.

And he's your nephew.

He is not my nephew.

You can't be proud of him.

He's a chip of the old block.

Not a chip off of this block.

He's a blockhead, that's what he is.

And I'm beginning to think that there's

a lot of other blockheads around this

place too.

Otto Stinton, lots is hinging on the

stock you've got.

The chief, he feels he's got good deals

on his used horse's lot.

The morning sun leaves the east to

settle in.

Here comes Charlie, good old Charlie,

captain of the suit.

Why should I be peeved, Horace?

You, you just, you just tied up all the

Gillespie wagons and over half of the

food supply that there is in St.

Louis and my crew.

Why should I be peeved at you, Horace?

Well, I didn't really think you would be.

You're too big a man for that.

You couldn't do anything small.

Well, I have to hand it to you.

You pulled it off.

I didn't think you could, but you

pulled it off.

You know what?

I haven't dipped into my $185 yet either.

I got that to fall back on in case of

an emergency.

Horace, you better hang on to that

money because I'm liable to have to

borrow a couple of dollars from you.

Well, you know that anything I have, if

you need it, you just say the word.

You're my hero.

I mean that.

Well, by golly, I really think you do

mean it.

Well, of course I do.

You know, every time I come to a

puzzler, I'd say to myself, now, what

would Cousin Seth do?

And that's exactly what I'd done.

Horace, you didn't do a single solitary

thing the way I would do it.

Why, I sure did.

I sure did.

I did everything just exactly the way

you'd have done it, except I threw in a

little Tennessee trading.

I'm sure glad you're not mad at me,

Cousin Seth.

Well, Horace, you just built a better mousetrap.

I got to give you credit for it.

That's all there is to it.

You know what?

I signed close to 100 wagons tonight.

You did?

100 wagons, huh?

Well, you got a pretty long road to

hoe, and you better do a good job of it.

Yes, sir.

100 wagons.

That means that you've accepted the

responsibility for better than 300

lives, and you better not let them

down, either.

I'll do my best.

That's all any man can ask of you, but

you know so many times the best is just

not good enough.

When you think of all the people, 75 or

100 of them, they're going to die when

the cholera hits your camp without you

knowing it's coming.

And then that Indian war party as it

comes down off of the high hills, and

their screams splinter the night, and

their arrows set fire to it, and you

say, well, I did my best.

That's what you say to all those silent dead.

I did my best.

And you know, then your heart begins to

falter a little bit, and you begin to

wonder all those people looking to you,

depending on your judgment, but they're

willing to follow you into the wilderness.

Then you come to the mountains for us.

Mountains, they're usually covered with

rock and shale and the wagon wheels,

they slip and slide back, and they

break, and then your wagon itself, it

lurches backwards, and the horse

collars cut into the bleeding shoulders

of your horses.

Yes, those barren hillsides where you

knew there was going to be grass.

There wasn't any grass.

Then you come on a dry creek bed where

you were sure there was going to be

water, but there isn't any water.

Your people are thirsty.

And those moments of decision, horse,

those are the tough moments.

You have to decide whether to cross the

river at night or whether you're going

to wait till dawn, whether you want to

take the uncharted shortcut or whether

you're going to take the long mountain

trail that's safe.

And all the time, you feel that those

people are looking at you and waiting.

They're your people, horse, your people.

Well, finally, you have to make a

decision to move on, and right at that

minute, horse, you pray that almighty

God is close to your hand when you make

that decision.

Wake up!

Wake up!

Wake up!

Where's Horace?

Where's Horace?

Where's Horace?

How would I know?

I'm asleep.

Well, we can't find him, no way.

Well, don't bother me about it.

You know anything about him, Charlie?

Well, he says he don't.

Well, I went by the police station.

They were starting to drag the river.

Would you two mind taking this

conversation over to the office of the

Horace Best Enterprises?

That's where you work now, isn't it?

Sheriff's got a posse out searching the ravine.

Oh, go on.

Get out of here, all of you.

There was a lot of shooting there last

night, Major.

Uh, you weren't out, were you?

Me?

Oh, yeah, sure, sure.

I was out riding.

What do you think, I'm out of my head?

Well, there's been foul play somewhere.

Listen, it's a little bit early for me

to appreciate jokes.

This is the only morning I've got a

chance to sleep in.

Now, leave me alone.

He's not in the ravine.

Somebody better do something.

Horace's headquarters is jammed with

people who want to sign out.

Well, get over there and keep an end.

Don't let anybody get away.

Gentlemen, this is not the Horace Best Enterprises.

And if you don't mind, this Seth Adams

Enterprises would like to sleep a

little longer, which is probably

exactly what the Horace Best

Enterprises is doing right now.

No, we checked his room, Major.

He hasn't been there all night.

This is your gentleman's problem, hm?

Well, we mustn't lose sight of the fact

that he is your cousin.

And he disappeared.

And you were the last one to see him alive.

Now, just a goddarn minute.

Don't get the idea that we're accusing

you, Major, but it does look a little strange.

You and him being rivals, and him

coming to see you and never being seen again.

He may still be up here.

Yeah, stuffed under something.

Now, that's just about enough of this.

Now, let's not lose our temper.

You keep your own temper, I'll keep mine.

What time was it that Horace came to

see you last night, Major?

How would I know?

I was asleep.

Well, what time was it when he left?

Well, if I didn't know what time he

came, how would I know what time he left?

You weren't asleep when he left, were you?

I have no idea what time he arrived.

I have no idea what time he left.

And I have no idea what time it is now!

Ten after six.

Put that down!

What have you did with my little Lightfoot?

He's gone.

Oh, put that thing down.

Let go call the sheriff.

Oh, I wouldn't look for any help there, Major.

The sheriff is part of the Best

Enterprises, too.

That old John Houlihan.

Uh -huh.

The best wagon train is policed by the

best of Houlihan police.

I got his farewell address right here

in my hand.

Well, don't just stand there.

Read it to us.

Dear Pappy, one and all.

After talking to Major Adams, I have

decided to dissolve the Horace Best Enterprises.

I don't want no raise, Major.

I'm a royal.

All right now, gentlemen.

Let's talk.

There's very little right And an awful

lot is wrong But I don't care I sing a

happy song It takes a happy man to sing

Howdy, Clem.

Howdy, Horace.

Aren't you going in the wrong direction?

West is that way.

Uh, Cousin Seth, uh, See, when you told

me That I would have to stand at the

crossroads And decide whether to take

the uncharted shortcut Or the long

mountain trail And all them people

standing around there Just, uh, waiting

and watching Well, right then and there

I knowed I was barking up the wrong beanpole.

Why, I could sit there for a year just

a -pondering.

Well, I could grow a long white beard

Just a -sitting there watching and

waiting and wondering And never find

out the answer till after he's dead.

Cousin Seth, I got things to do.

I just don't have time to sit around

and wait.

But, Horace, you were the one that

wanted to go west, remember?

I wanted to build a wagon train And

then I got so wound up a -building it I

just plumb forgot where it was supposed

to go.

Then when you told me about them Indian

arrows Flaming at you and the dried -up

waterholes Then I knowed I never wanted

to go west.

I wanted to go east.

Horace, you listen to me.

You've got over a hundred wagons out

there waiting.

Go west with Horace Best, you said.

Now, by golly, you're gonna go.

Will you just listen to me for a minute?

Cousin Seth, you have been my hero

Since I was knee -high to a bee's bottom.

Now, tell you what I'm willing to do.

I figured everything all wrong And I

really was gonna have to go out west.

Now, you know, I didn't come out of the

hills To get in no hoop -dee -doo in the sagebrush.

All I wanted was to make an honest

dollar And be partners with Cousin Seth.

And it took a heap of doing But in the

end, everything worked out just fine.