All language subtitles for 35 - The Janet Hale Story

Oh, oh. Circle him up here, Bill. Hi, Chris. What are you looking at so hard? The beauty

of it. Look at that valley. Yeah, it's mighty nice. Go west and the land will challenge

you until the day you arrive. But always, there's the beauty of it to make you glad

you're alive. Who said that? I did. You mean you made it up just now? Why sure, why not?

No reason, I guess. I don't know. Oh, don't pay attention to him, Mr. Chris. He don't

appreciate the finer things in life. Now, you take a man like me. I like poems. I learned

one once. Did you? Let's hear it. Let's see, it goes like this. Ah, Mary had a little lamb.

Its fleece was white as snow. Every place that Mary went. Yahoo! Hey! Hey! Wait, what's

going on? Whoa, Jerry! Mabel there! Whoa! Doesn't look like much damage, does it? Oh,

son. Well, now, thank you, Duke, but you didn't have to help me stop him, because this

is as far as I was going anyway. Do you mean you ran this team out here on purpose? I sure

did. Do you mind telling me why? Well, I wanted to get here before somebody else got the same

idea as me. Well, you just take a look around you. Do you ever see a better place in your

whole life for a farm? It does look pretty good. Oh, pretty good. I ain't seen land like

this in a thousand miles. You just, just take a look at this earth. It'd grow anything. Well,

you're sure right about that, Whit. Mr. Shannon, you've lived in this territory. How near is the

nearest settlement? Oh, roughly 150 miles. We'll put the house over there by those pines,

and then the barn a little ways over. I'll tell you what. I'll ask Mr. Hale if he'll camp

the train over here a little closer. Maybe when the folks know you're set on staying here,

they'll give you a hand putting up your house. Oh, that's mighty nice of you, Duke. Thank you

very much. Did you hear what he said, Helen? If those people take a notion, they can put up a

house and a barn today. Whit, I don't want to stay here. Well, of course you do, honey. Not,

not without any neighbors. Not 150 miles from civilization. Look, honey, I'm a farmer. I'm a

good farmer. You know that. And a good farmer needs a good piece of land. And when it's here

for the taking, then why shouldn't he take the best he can find? All my life, I dreamed about

having the finest piece of land around. I've been looking at ground all the way from Springfield,

and this is it. Right here in this valley, this is land I've always wanted. This is my farm,

Helen. And you're going to love it, too. I promise you that.

Well, Helen, we're ready for the door. Everything's done but this, but it's the most

important part, because when this door is on its hinges, it's going to turn that log

cabin into a home just like magic. Nothing could turn anything into a home in this place.

Oh, you just wait till our furniture's in the house and the door is on its hinges. You won't

know but what you're still back in Springfield. What about when I look out the window and there's

nothing as far as the eye can see? Will I know the difference then? Oh, give yourself a chance,

Helen. Come on now, join the others. They're our friends. They put up a house and a barn just for

us. And tomorrow they'll be gone and we'll never see them again. We'll never see anybody again.

I can't live like that, Whit. They're waiting for us, Helen. They're going to make a celebration

out of the hanging of the door like a cornerstone ceremony. That wouldn't be right if you're not

there. You just haven't heard one word I've said, have you? All you can think about is that door.

Well, I wish we left it back in Springfield, and I wish your father had left it in Massachusetts,

and I wish his father had left it in England where it belongs. It belongs here. Look at it.

Look at this fancy carving. Nothing about it belongs here and neither do we.

Daddy, Daddy, Judy, she hurt herself.

Judy.

Jimmy and I climbed the tree, Daddy. We didn't think Judy would follow us.

Where?

No, no, no, no, no!

You said this land could grow anything.

You can't ask me to stay here now.

Yes, I can, Helen, more than ever now.

I'll take the train to the first town I can get a stagecoach home.

This is our home.

Take Jimmy and Sally with me.

We need each other more than ever now.

Yes, we do.

Not here.

Not here.

Helen, running away is not going to bring her back. Nothing will.

Judy was my little girl, too, and I'm grieving for her the same as you are.

But you have got to look at it this way.

A wagon train starts out with a lot more people than it ends up with.

You remember that little Harding baby that died just a week after we joined the train?

Her folks didn't turn back.

Neither did Mrs. Carlson when her husband died.

She's nearly 70 years old.

The fact is, I don't know of a person that ever turned back because they lost a loved one.

That sort of thing can happen anywhere.

It could have happened to our little Judy back in Springfield.

There were trees for her to climb there, too.

You know why we came west, Helen.

Those reasons haven't changed.

All I'm asking you is, please,

try to remember all our hopes and all our dreams.

My baby died here.

That's what I'll remember.

I have to tell you this now, Whit.

I never wanted to come.

Only my love for you made me do it.

That isn't enough now.

You don't mean it.

I mean it.

Mrs. Martin,

I hate to disturb you at a time like this,

but we're pulling out pretty early in the morning.

If you need some help to get the rest of your things into the house, I'll see that you get it.

Thank you, Mr. Hill, but I'm not moving into the house.

I'm turning back. I'm going home.

Oh?

I'm sorry to hear it.

Sorry.

Is it because of what happened?

That does make it impossible, don't you think?

No, ma'am, I don't think it does.

I know your hurts deep, Mrs. Martin,

but I also know that time will show you mercy.

What I fear for you now is that sometime later you may regret having left.

I won't regret it, ever.

What I'm trying to say is,

you can't leave the memory of what's happened behind.

You turn back, it'll turn back with you.

It won't make you feel any better by going back,

nor will it make you feel any worse by staying.

How do you know what my feelings are?

Well, I know that in this beautiful valley,

you can work and build a good life for you and your family.

And you can be proud of what you accomplish.

And in that pride, you'll be able to do what you want to do.

You can be proud of what you accomplish.

And in that pride, you can find love, happiness, and fulfillment.

Do you think you can find those things by giving up and going back?

Why can't anybody understand?

I hate this place!

I hate this land! It took my baby from me!

I never want to see it again!

Well, I do understand, Mrs. Martin.

I understand how you feel at this moment, but later...

How could you know how a mother feels?

You, of all people!

You, a man with no family ties.

You don't have to stay in one place.

You're free to roam up and down this godforsaken country to your heart's content.

What could you know of homes or families or fulfillment?

You're right, Mrs. Martin. I have no family ties.

But it wasn't always that way.

It wasn't so very long ago.

I had a wife and a son.

I had a daughter, too.

And we had a home in St. Joseph, Missouri.

Is there anything else you want me to do, Mother?

Oh, Marie, take a look at the turkey.

I just did.

Well, see that everything is on the table then.

I did that before I went to look at the turkey.

Oh, that lantern.

I've seen its last homecoming celebration.

Are these glasses all right, Mother?

Yes, they'll be fine.

Oh, I hope we look all right.

Jeff, you better pour that cider so that we can drink a toast to your father the minute he steps through the door.

Then you'd better hurry up.

Chris!

Chris!

Oh, welcome home, Christopher.

I've waited a long time to hear those words, my darling.

An awful long time.

Welcome home, Daddy!

How's my little girl?

Hi, Dad.

Jeff!

Well, you certainly did your share of growing up while I was away.

Over two inches.

Good to see you, son.

Good to see you, too, Dad.

Excuse me, I've got to go pour the cider.

Well, will you girls see what I brought you from California?

Mother says we have to wait till after supper.

Well, your mother's always right, isn't she?

Here you are, Dad.

Thank you.

Murray?

Here's to my family, together again.

And here's to the day when I'll never have to leave them again.

The days and weeks sped by all too soon,

as they always did when I was home.

And they grew into months,

and then it was time for me to go into the city

to begin organizing another wagon train.

I'd have only three more weeks of my family

before I'd have to leave them again.

What's this, a toast?

It is.

And what's this?

It's a toast.

To me.

To me.

To me.

To me.

To me.

What's this, a toast?

It is.

I thought we only had toasts when Dad came home.

In the morning, your father starts signing up wagons

for another train.

We're going to drink to that.

Christopher, when you came back from your last trip,

you made a toast to the day

when you would never have to leave your family again.

Yes, I did.

Now, I'm going to drink to our family.

Here's to our being a real family,

a whole family,

with children and a mother,

and a father who will never be separated from us again.

Here's to the first family you sign up in the morning,

the Christopher Hale family.

Oh, my dear,

how I wish I could promise you that right this minute.

If it were only possible.

It is possible, Christopher.

It has to be.

Janet, dear,

you know how much I've always wanted

to take you with me, all of you.

And I will, but it just, it just isn't safe yet.

There aren't many years left to raise them as children.

Janet, dear, listen to me.

For all the ten years I've been taking wagon trains

across this country,

I've held to one thought of that day

when I could start our last trip,

when I could take my family with me.

There hasn't been a day

when I haven't kept my eyes open

for the ideal spot to build our home.

I haven't lost sight of my dream, Janet.

But in all that time,

I've come to know this country pretty well.

I can tell you it's a great and beautiful land,

but that's only part of it.

It's a dangerous land, too.

The suffering and hardships

it puts to the people who challenge it are unbelievable.

If you'd ever seen a human being die of thirst or hunger,

or freeze to death in 15 feet of snow,

or seen what happens to the victims of an Indian massacre,

you'd understand why I'm not yet willing

to put those I love through such a thing.

The risks are just too great.

But what about all those hundreds of people

you lead west every year?

Aren't the risks too great for them, too?

You can't stop some people from going on ahead.

And it's even necessary

that somebody opens the country for those to follow.

And if my experience can make it easier on them,

I'm proud to be a part of it.

I'm just saying I don't want my family

to go through a thing like that yet.

That's not what you're saying exactly, Christopher.

The first year or two, yes.

But then you began to like things the way they were.

You liked taking the trains west that got into your blood.

You liked being part of the great movement

to push back the frontiers

and to close the gaps between the oceans.

And that's admirable.

And I love you for it.

But you did lose sight of our dream,

of going out there together as a family,

of building our home,

of being part of those families

to settle that wonderful country.

Christopher, you have had your way of life.

And you've had the security.

And you've had the security

of knowing that your family was safe and sound in St. Joe,

where you didn't have to worry about them.

You like your life the way it is.

You never want to change it.

Janet, how long has it been

since you've had an attack of the fever?

What does that matter?

You'd just gotten over one when I came home, hadn't you?

Well, yes, but...

And that attack was hardly three months after the last one.

Well, the attacks only last a week or so,

and then they're gone. You know that.

In the comfort of your own home, yes,

but on a wagon train, under ordinary circumstances,

you need every ounce of strength you have to survive.

Janet, you were right about one thing.

It has become a way of life.

But now I've got to tell you this.

The only real reason I ever left you behind

was because I knew there was no way

we could ever beat the fever to California.

Oh, Chris.

If that's the reason, please take us.

I know I can make it, because I have the will to make it.

And with Josh and Ada...

Josh and Ada. Have you talked to them about this?

Yes, they want to go with us.

And even if I had to take it easy,

Josh would be such a wonderful help.

Oh, Chris.

Oh, Chris.

I've thought about this for such a long time.

I must have the answer tonight.

In all fairness to you, I must tell you

that my feeling isn't shared by...

by everyone here.

Well, I don't see why we can't stay right here in St. Joe.

I mean, why do we have to go west for anyway?

Couldn't you just get a job around here, Dad,

so that we could all be together?

No, I couldn't, son.

Some men take to city ways without any trouble at all,

but I'm not one of them.

Just why is it you don't want to go west?

Well, it's just like you always said, Dad.

Now, why should we have to go out there and fight Indians

when we can stay right here where there aren't any?

Are you afraid?

A man can't expect his son to follow in his footsteps

or even to think like he does

when he's home barely enough to stay acquainted.

I wanted you to see how badly he needs you.

Chris, I'm tired of homecomings.

So tired I've decided that this one has to be the last one.

There'll be no more homecomings for you here, Chris.

Marie, dear, you haven't said anything.

How do you feel about it?

I'm sorry, Daddy.

But I'll do whatever Mother says.

I knew you'd say that.

Well, I don't care if you want to go or not, Mother.

I'm staying right here.

No man, any age, speaks to my wife that way.

You're entitled to your opinions,

but your mother and I make the decisions, and you abide by them.

Never try to change that, young man,

because you'll fail every time.

Now, we'll all drink to this.

To the Hale family.

And no more homecomings.

It was a good trip, all things considered.

There were the usual hardships, of course.

Jeff became a valuable helper,

and we made up for a lot of lost time,

because now we could be together and work together as father and son.

But it was my wife, Janet, who made me the proudest of all,

when she became ill.

She'd been confined to bed for two days with a burning fever,

and we'd been traveling over some of the roughest country we'd yet encountered.

I... I do believe I'm feeling better.

Are you, darling?

We just didn't have another 50 miles of this rough country.

Well, Chris, you mustn't worry about me.

You have your hands full with the train.

My responsibility to the train is one thing,

but my responsibility to you is something entirely different.

Chris, I don't expect and I don't want to be treated

any different than any other woman on the train.

Promise me.

Well, I don't know about that.

I might just have to make an exception every now and then.

Oh.

Like this.

You'll make an exception like that anytime you like.

But even after the trail had smoothed out and the going was easier,

Janet didn't recover as expected.

You just can't rest in a jolting wagon,

and the thing she needed most was peace and quiet and rest.

Oh, why are we stopping?

I don't know, Mother.

Indians!

Indians. Indians!

Don't get upset, dear. There's nothing to worry about.

Give me a rifle, Marie, quick!

Are they going to massacre us?

No, no, there's not enough of them for that.

They look like they're trying to be friendly.

Yeah, well, maybe it's a trick.

Chief Red Cloud, good to see you again.

Red Cloud always glad to meet Wagon Chief Hales,

who never once break treaty in ten summers,

passing through Indian territory.

I hope you're as generous to the man who takes my place next year.

You'll not come again?

This is my last trip.

This time I settle with my family in California.

Why not Wagon Chief stay here?

Build house in Red Cloud's land.

We'd be good friends.

I thank you for the offer,

but I've got to take the wagon train through to California anyway,

and I've already picked out just the place I want.

Wagon Chief know what best for family.

Sorry you not come again.

Here, I give you Red Cloud's knife,

token of everlasting friendship.

Chief, they're going to stab Daddy.

It was a trick.

Sheriff, put down that rifle.

Keep Red Cloud to friend.

I apologize, Red Cloud.

I don't know what got into the boy.

Bring boy here.

I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it.

He won't do it again, I promise you.

Bring boy here.

Go get him, Josh.

Well, that was a fool thing to do, Jeff.

Well, I thought he was going to attack Dad.

Climb on behind me.

The chief wants to see you.

Me?

Well, what for?

I don't know.

Just climb on, boy.

Get on, boss.

Boy, come here.

Why you try to kill Red Cloud?

When Chief Red Cloud ask question, boy answer.

You drew your sword to kill Red Cloud.

Boy answer.

You drew your knife.

I thought you were going to use it on my father.

You?

Son of wagon chief?

I'm sorry, Chief Red Cloud.

I didn't know you were friendly.

Red Cloud not want boy make same mistake again.

Not want son of great wagon chief for enemy.

Thank you, sir.

Boy and Red Cloud powwow.

We smoke peace pipe now.

But I don't smoke.

You want to be enemy?

No, sir.

Then you smoke peace pipe.

Cough, cough.

Cough, cough.

Chief Red Cloud.

I think you've taught him a lesson he won't soon forget.

Boy learn.

Friendship with Red Cloud not come easy.

Here.

When he grow older, give him Red Cloud's knife.

He make a good break.

He make a good break.

Chris, I won't talk to you.

But...

Like I was going to say, Chris.

It doesn't take a doctor to see that Janet can't travel another foot.

I know, Josh.

What can we do?

Let's go back to the children.

They've got to hear this too.

Is mom any better, dad?

I'm afraid not, son.

Marie dear, Jeff.

I'm afraid it's going to be a long while before you see California.

You mean we're going to stay right here?

We're going to settle this piece of land right here where we're sitting.

Is it because of mother?

She's too ill to go on, dear.

If we're going to keep her with us, we've got to get her into a bed that doesn't jolt around all day.

Got to get her into a nice warm house.

Do you understand?

What about you, Chris?

What do you mean, Josh?

You know what I mean.

You made a promise to Janet you'd never be separated again.

Can you keep it?

I don't know, Josh.

Right this minute, I...

Just don't know.

The people helped build my house just as the people on this train built one for you, Mrs. Martin.

They worked fast, like they were all as anxious to see my wife safe and comfortable in a sturdy house as I was.

It's an inspiring thing when people band together to help one another.

You'll never see folks any happier than when they're giving of themselves like that.

A house raising is a wonderful American custom.

I hope it never disappears from this land.

A house that would have taken one man months to build was, in less than ten hours, standing there ready to be occupied.

Well, how's my girl?

Oh, just being here, all together in our own house, knowing that we finally made the best medicine in the world.

I'm so happy we're all together for good.

Well, I want to say that's a mighty fine house you built for my family.

Tight and warm.

We're mighty grateful to you.

Now, many of you have asked me what I intend to do.

Whether I intend to stay here with my family or go on to California with the train.

Let me say this.

All you good people have paid a price to be part of this wagon train.

Part of the Christopher Hale train.

And I respect your right to get exactly what you paid for.

I respect my obligation to do the job I agreed to do.

I can wait a little while to live in that house you built.

I'm going on to California with you.

Folks, folks, wait just a minute, please.

I've got something I want to say.

Maybe I got no place saying what I'm going to, considering Chris is my own brother.

But I think it needs saying.

I don't have to tell you what it took for Chris to stand up here and say what he did.

Telling you he was willing to leave his wife and his children behind because of his duty to you.

Fact is, if Chris had asked you to relieve him of that duty,

I don't doubt but what there's a person among you who'd say,

I'll not hold you to your bargain.

But he didn't ask you that.

He wouldn't put you on that kind of a spot.

And that's what I'm going to ask you to do.

Put yourself in his place for just a minute and then ask yourselves

if you don't think you could make it to California with Bart Taylor leading you instead of Chris.

Now, you can all let Chris know what you decide.

As each one of you puts a piece of paper on the table

Now, you can all let Chris know what you decide.

As each one of you puts a piece of twig into this hat.

All right?

Yeah.

All right, come on. Let's vote.

Just a minute.

Now, I appreciate what Josh has just said to you folks.

And I wouldn't be telling the truth if I didn't admit that I would like to be able to stay here with my family.

But voting on it won't be necessary because I've already made my decision.

Have you considered these folks might feel better about it themselves if they had a voice in that decision?

They're not objecting to the vote.

Why don't you let them have their say?

It's for Janet and the children as much as for yourself.

Let them vote.

You're all aware that the decisions I make as your wagon master are in my best judgment always made in the interest of the greatest number of you.

Sometimes those decisions hurt individuals.

But I ask you to remember that now.

I ask that you consider only those things which you honestly believe to be in the interest of the greatest number of people on this train.

Chris, I'll need your hat too.

I'm going out there and see what's going on.

Okay.

I guess I don't really want to know just yet.

It's a hard decision, Chris.

But mark my word, they'll let their hearts rule their minds.

They'll leave you here.

Chris, you're going to stay.

Would you believe it? There isn't a single half inch twig in either hat.

There's not a vote against your staying here.

Are you sure?

Ought to be.

Bart Taylor and I counted every one of them ourselves right in front of everybody.

Well, that's odd. There ought to have been a few dissenters among all those people.

Well, there might have been at first.

But when the voting got going, it was obvious the big majority was voting for you to stay.

So somebody suggested they all make it unanimous.

Well, here, count them yourself.

304 little two-inch pieces of wood.

Oh, I can't keep this from Janet another minute.

I'm going to wake her up and tell her.

Now, wait a minute, Ada. Not just yet.

But the good news will do her a lot more good than sleep.

She's already assumed I'm staying.

And I haven't let her think anything different.

Well, all right, Chris, if that's what you want.

Morning will be time enough.

Morning.

Chris?

I must have slept here all night.

Janet wants to see you.

Is she up already?

And she's had the first good night's rest and she took sick.

Oh, good.

Oh, Chris, I hope you don't mind. I told Janet the good news that you were staying.

Well, you know me, Chris. I can't keep anything to myself.

That's all right, Ada.

I'll get the other sleepyheads up.

Oh.

Good morning, dear.

When are you going to leave, Christopher?

You know.

When Ada told me about the voting last night and that you were still sitting in your chair this morning,

I knew what you were going through.

What a terrible decision to have to make.

Wanting to stay here with us and yet knowing what must have been in the hearts of those people when they voted the way they did.

Imagine how they must have been thinking of those long miles ahead without you.

How they must love you.

I thought for a while last night all I needed was their approval to release me from my duty to them.

And I knew down deep all the time that nobody could release me from my duty except myself.

I wasn't much help rattling on about being together for good. I'm sorry.

I should never have let you think that.

I knew right from the first what I had to do.

When are you leaving?

Fifteen minutes.

Be on time, Christopher.

Another minute and I don't think I can let you go.

Oh.

Just one more homecoming, Christopher.

Only one more.

You'll never know how glad I am it isn't in St. Joe.

I knew Janet was in good hands with Josh and Ada to look after her and Jeff and Marie to help them.

The house had been built in Chief Red Cloud's territory so I didn't worry too much about an Indian attack.

I knew I had made the right decision in fulfilling my contract to lead the train to California.

Hey, Mother! Mother, it's Uncle John!

It's from Chris! He's on his way home!

Oh, isn't he?

Dear family, I'm leaving Sacramento today.

There isn't much chance I can beat the letter there, but I'm sure going to try.

If all goes well, I should arrive on the 15th of next month.

The 15th? What's the date?

Today's the 12th.

That's three days! In three days, your father will be home!

Oh, Mother!

You better say hello to Josh. Everybody's dressed but you.

Well, I had to milk the cow, didn't I? I wouldn't want to be doing it after Chris gets here.

My goodness, Florence was certainly stingy. Hardly a pitcher full.

She's not used to letting it down this early.

Josh, will you please get dressed? We'll do the watching for Chris.

All right, Ada. I was just watching. I thought I heard a coyote when I was milking.

Could have been an Indian.

Oh, nonsense. We haven't seen an Indian since Red Cloud paid us a visit.

Now go get some water. I want to be heating it so your father can have a bath the minute he gets here.

All right, Mom.

Don't forget to rinse it out.

That's lovely.

Thank you, Ed.

Uh, hello.

My name's Jeff Hale. My father's wagon master, Hale. He's a good friend of your chief, Red Cloud.

This Indian land. White men don't live here.

Oh, no. No, it's all right.

Chief Red Cloud told my father we could live here.

I even smoked a peace pipe with your chief.

He was just by here a few weeks ago just to say hello.

Red Cloud is old woman. He let white men make fool of him.

Not us. We leave tribe. We make you leave land.

Uh, now, you better leave us alone.

Red Cloud, he has a treaty with my father.

Let's give him that boy.

Josh! Josh!

Josh!

Josh!

Josh!

Josh!

Josh!

Oh! Oh!

Janet! Janet! Janet!

Oh! Oh!

Why did...

Oh, Chris! I... I was waiting for you. I had to wait for you.

I never should have left you. I had no right to go.

You can't carry the blame for this. You mustn't.

Oh, why did I trust that Indian?

It wasn't... It wasn't Red Cloud. It was Renegade. Jeff told me before.

It would have... It would have happened anyway, even if you'd been here.

But thank God you weren't.

Now you can go on living for... for all of us.

Please, don't let this destroy you.

Rose!

I don't remember much about the next few days, except that we dived out in five graves.

I guess I didn't even eat until I was found by the scout from another wagon train.

But this one...

Even as Flint McCullough was trying to bring me out of my shock, Janet's last words were coming true.

The terrible guilt I felt was already destroying me.

How can you ever forgive me, Mr. Hale, for the things I said to you?

I didn't know.

Of course you didn't.

Of course you didn't.

But I still don't understand why...

Why I didn't go back east to live?

Why I continue to lead people into this uncivilized country after what happened?

Many families will die.

Some, but many won't.

Pretty soon they'll be joined by another family, and then ten more, and then a hundred.

Then there'll be a town, somewhere else another town. That's the way a great country grows.

A wagon master can help in all that.

He can be a part of it.

Mrs. Martin, my family perished so that others who followed might live.

They died in vain only if there are no others.

Others like you.

Why wasn't England a good enough place for this door?

Why isn't St. Joe a good enough place for it now?

If a man can't be free where he is, he'll go where he can be.

We weren't oppressed in Missouri.

Why can't my husband be happy there?

Why can't all the people in Missouri be happy there?

Why can't I be happy there?

Why can't I be happy there?

Why can't I be happy there?

Why can't I be happy there?

Why can't my husband be happy there?

Why can't all the people on this wagon train be happy where they were?

Why is someplace else always better?

For the same reason man invented the wheel before the rocking chair.

If it wasn't for his instinct to explore and populate far off places,

he'd have invented the rocking chair first.

Only he'd be using it in a cave.

That's a little heavy for you, isn't it, Ms. Martin?

Thank you, Mr. Hale. Thank you for everything.

But if this door is ever going to be lifted, I'm the one who's got to do it.

I'll do it.

I'm going to get it.

Mr. Hale just told me the story about his family.

I wonder why.

I wonder why he was willing to torture himself like that.

Just for me.

Because it's important what we're doing here, Helen.

And to a man like Mr. Hale,

that makes us important people.

I'm going to get it.

Helen!

Where are you going with our blankets?

They're not our blankets. They belong to the Harris's here.

Well, where are you going with them?

The barn.

Well, why?

Well, the Harris's are going to live in our barn until they have time to build their own house.

I told you I wasn't going to live out here in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors.

So I went off and found me some.

You know, Chris, yesterday Mrs. Martin wasn't going to stay.

What are you supposed to have to change her mind?

Oh, I have an idea.

She just found out the difference between a wheel and a rocking chair.

A wheel and a rocking chair?

Charlie, a wheel.

You know, there's four of them.

They're round.

They've got spokes in them.

The wagons run on them.

Then there's a rocking chair, too.

I don't want wheels.

I don't want rocking chairs.

I want wheels.

I want wheels.

I want wheels.

I want wheels.

I want wheels, too.

I don't want wheels.

I don't know what rocking chairs are, but what does he mean?

Well, if you'd been listening, I think what Chris means is that probably, maybe...

Well, if she had...

Why do you ask such stupid questions all the time?

Come on, let's get the furniture in the house.