All language subtitles for Rawhide S06E26

This court's back in session.
That means there's gonna be quiet

or somebody's gonna
get their head busted.

As of right now,
the bar's closed.

The defendant
will take his chair

and the rest of you, kindly
keep your mouths shut.

Eh, Asa, next man opens his
face, you close it, you hear?

Yes, sir.

Jud, I said sit.

I hear you, and I'm sitting.

Territory of New
Mexico, County Union,

circuit court of Judge John
Hogan is now in session.

Case of the people against
Jud Hammerklein of this territory.

Take your hats off.

Charlie, get your hat off.

Now if any of you start
talking out of turn out there,

or otherwise trying to horn
in on judge's conversation,

you gonna find yourself in that
water trough out there. Head first.

That your ruling, judge?

- That's right.
- Yes, sir.

All right, Ephraim. Let them in.

You boys got a verdict?

Uh, afraid so, John.

Well? Let's hear it.

Well, there ain't no
two ways about it.

Jud, you're as guilty as a liquored-up
Paiute Indian on a Saturday night.

What? MAN 2: Shut your mouth.

Out of his own
friends, you convict him!

You're the foreman,
why did you let them do it?

I want it quiet in here.

Judge says quiet,
he wants quiet.

All right, Wolski,
you can sit down.

The defendant got anything to say
before this court passes sentence?

John, you ever know a time when
I didn't have something to say?

All right, you men.

The way you voted,
that was the only way.

Don't have it on your conscience.
I would've done the same thing.

All right, so I killed me a man.

A lousy little card sharp,
he wasn't the first one.

Between him and the first time I
saw the Apaches some 30 years ago,

I must have 20, 25
unmarked graves to my credit.

Some of them, I'm sorry for.

I wish that it could have
been done in another way.

Couldn't be. And it couldn't
with this lousy card sharp either.

Two weeks ago Monday,
there were four Hammerkleins.

Me and my three boys.

Two weeks ago Tuesday,
there were three Hammerkleins.

Me and these
two kids right here.

This lousy card sharp

pulled a derringer and
shot Albie, he's my youngest,

he shot him stone cold
dead. And for what?

A lousy six-dollar stud pot.

So I got my shotgun
and I went looking for him.

No fair draw. No back to
back. No 10 paces. Nothing.

And when I found him, I blew
him out of the county. All right.

There is no doubt I'm guilty
but so is every man in this room.

Because every man in this
room, including you John,

would do exactly the same thing.

You tell him, Jud. We're
behind you all the way.

They'll never hang old Jud.

Like Jud says, there's
no doubt about this.

Any one of us probably would
have done the same thing.

You know why?

Because we don't
know any better.

Thirty years ago, we made our own
rules out here, because we had to.

Twenty years ago,

we watched those same
rules change this sun-fried hell

into a place a man
could call home.

And 10 years ago,

a woman could sleep
through a whole night

without using a
rifle for a pillow.

That was then.
That was yesterday.

The book's closed now, Jud,
chapter verse and conscience.

Now, it ain't even today
we've got to face now.

It's tomorrow,
the day after that.

That's right.

Back in Boston, they got laws.

The same laws that work
for people in St. Louis,

Buffalo, now in Deadhorse.

This is tomorrow. It's here now.

And we can't sweep it
or the law under our rugs.

Not anymore.

Now, we all gotta answer to the
same law that works for everybody.

You, me,

even a little white-fingered
gambler wearing a shiny black coat

and carrying a hideout
nickel-plate popgun.

You killed him, Jud.

No matter what he
was or what he'd done,

the law says you
got to answer for it.

Stand up, Jud.

For the willful premeditated
murder, uh, of Nate Neilson

occupation, gambler,
address unknown,

in the township of Deadhorse...

Go on, go on. Say it, John.
We know you're the judge.

Territory of New Mexico,

you're sentenced to hang
by the neck until you are dead.

And may the Lord
have mercy on your soul.

John, you know that
gambler had it coming to him.

I do not know it. That's for a
court to decide. Not you, me or Jud.

The law specifically states
trial by jury not by fury.

If you think we're gonna stand
around and watch you hang our pa...

Mark, Mark, you
just take it easy.

You're not talking to
John Jefferson Hogan now,

you're talking to
the law of the land.

Sentence will be carried
out at 3:00 on the 13th,

that's Friday next.

Asa,

both the prisoner
and the execution

- are now your responsibility.
- All right.

You're gonna have to
get yourself another boy.

I ain't gonna spring that trap on
Jud. Nobody else will in Deadhorse.

That ain't something
a friend can do, I know.

I intend to telegraph
the Territorial Governor

and ask him to send
you a professional.

Oh, come on, Asa,

put that piece of tin back on your
chest. You look naked without it.

You know and I know,

nobody is gonna hang me
professional or otherwise.

- Now, Jud, I'm giving you...
- All right. I know.

I give you my word. No trouble.

And that goes for the
boys and everybody else.

I'll do what the law says.

I'll sit in Asa's jail
until 3:00 on the 13th.

By then, Boston law will
go back where it belongs.

Deadhorse will be back to normal
and I'll just go back to my place.

Drinks are on me.

If it's all right with
you, Your Honor?

Court's adjourned.

Look, next time you're in
town, come on out to the ranch.

We'll fry us a steer. I got some
whiskey we can work on too.

Like Jud says, without
it you look naked.

So you understand it, John,

that law you was talking about,
that might work out back in Boston,

some of them northern towns. But
it ain't gonna work here, not for Jud,

and ain't no sentence,
no jury, no scaffold,

or no hangman gonna
make it a bit different.

Three o'clock on the
13th. It's your responsibility.

Jim?

Hmm?

Tell me, is, uh,
scouting always like this?

Nope. Can't always
find a creek this good.

Tell you what I
might do. I might, uh...

I wouldn't do this for anybody
else. I want you understand.

I might just step down,
let you take over ramrod.

I'll tell you, Rowdy,

times I might
look like a jackass,

but if you think I'm gonna make
sounds like one, you're plum...

Yeah. Go ahead. You were saying?

One more time, Rowdy.

Just one more
smart-mouth out of you...

What I wanna know is,

how'd you make him sound
off at the right time just like that?

Who?

Your cousin, yonder.

Cousin?

All right. All
right. I'm coming.

You get lost, you
holler, now. Do you hear?

All right, all right,
I'm coming. Shut up.

Easy, now, fella.

Hey.

Come on, let's not make
a foot race out of this.

All right. Now, easy boy.

Easy, now.

Easy, now, boy. Easy, yeah.

Just trying to find
out who you belong to.

Quince!

All right.

Quince!

I'm coming. Doggone
it, I'm coming.

What are you doing, Rowdy?

Don't just stand
there. Give me a hand.

Rowdy.

Yeah, well, keep
digging. He's still alive.

Just what do you
think you're doing?

I'm washing the
dishes, just like you said.

In what, solid soap?

You got enough suds there to
wash the spots off every cow in Texas.

Mr. Wishbone, you said
cleanliness was next to godliness.

I also said that wastefulness
is worse than sinfulness.

Now dump that stuff and rinse
those things off in plain water.

- But...
- I said plain water, you hear?

- But, uh...
- You heard me, plain water.

- Any change?
- No, señor.

- How's he doing?
- There's no fever.

I cleaned out the wound good so
there shouldn't be any complications.

But with the head
wounds, you never can tell.

I don't get this, boss. - Hm.

Hm.

He's got money, a
watch, extra food.

Doesn't seem to
make too much sense.

Man's bushwacked for a lot of
reasons, robbery is only one of them.

Why would they go to
all the trouble to bury him?

- Any identification?
- No, not even a name, nothing.

What are you mumbling about?

And I looked and
behold, a pale horse.

And his name that
sat on him was Death.

Book of Revelations.

Well, look again. Dead
men don't breathe.

Death is many things
to many men, señor,

and only death can
live in a grave of stones.

Hey Soos, maybe you'd better
go back and work on the remuda.

Wishbone will call you
if he needs any help.

There is no need
for help, Señor Favor,

not for him and not for the one
whose life death has come to claim.

He's coming around.

Just rest easy, mister,
you're gonna be all right.

Henrietta.

Henrietta.

I don't know the lady,
mister. My name is Wishbone.

Oh, you're not Henrietta.

Oh.

Who can answer
my questions nine,

sing 99 and 90?

Oh, what is whiter than milk,

what is softer than silk?

Snow is whiter than milk,

the wind is softer than silk.

What is louder than a horn,

what is sharper than a thorn?

Thunder's louder than a horn

and death is
sharper than a thorn.

Well, he's out again.

Must have been hurt
worse than I thought.

He's sick, all right,
he needs a doctor.

Why don't you double back
to Fort Collins come first light?

There's an Army surgeon there.
Nothing more we can do here.

I got him. I got him.

I got him. I got him. I got him.

Sounds like Bull Run all over again.
- All right, Mushy.

Oh, I'm sorry. I'm
sorry, gentlemen.

I heard something at
the wagon and I thought...

You thought. You
all right, mister?

I, uh, I, uh...

Let's get him where he belongs.

Craziest thing I ever heard of,

you trying to get up after
being hit in the head like that.

Hey, what's the matter?
That idiot hurt your neck?

No, that's an old injury.

One from beyond the
grave, you might say.

What was you trying
to do, anyways?

Well, I, uh...

I thought he was
some kind of thief.

You told me to watch the
wagon, guard it with my life.

Well, you aren't going
to have any life to guard

if you don't stir up that
fire and hot up some broth.

This man needs food
and he needs it now.

Yes, sir. Right away.

Who are..? Who are you?

My name is Favor.
I'm the trail boss here.

Wishbone, our cook, is helping
you. That was Mushy who tackled you.

Rowdy Yates, ramrod who
found you and the rest of the crew.

This is a cattle drive.

But where? Where?

We found you this morning
under two feet of rocks.

Oh, heh.

Then it wasn't a
nightmare. I remember.

Just what did happen, anyways,
uh, Mister...? What's your name?

Plew. Hannibal H. Plew.

Lately of New England,
more recently from Ellsworth,

I think it was, in
the State of Kansas.

As for this morning I
can't seem to sort that out.

See, I was riding
along with Henrietta.

Henrietta is my mule.

- Where is she?
- With the remuda, señor.

Oh, I'm very grateful.

Like most innocents, we have
developed something of a kinship.

- About this morning...
- I was riding along

and then suddenly
something struck me.

I have a blurry memory of
rocks being placed on me

and the sound of laughter.

It's nice and hot,
Mr. Wishbone. Ooh.

First you try to strangle him and
then you try to scald him to death.

Not really his fault.

You know, uh, I was trying to
take my things from the wagon.

Here. Just try to get some of this
down where it'll do the most good.

See, being a fervent coward
from my earliest recollection,

I was trying to slip away
without your knowledge.

With a head wound like that,
it sure don't make much sense.

He who has a thousand friends

has never a friend to spare

but he who has one enemy,

will find him everywhere.

I evidently found my enemy
this morning and then...

See, when I revived, when
I came to in your midst,

I was afraid that I was renewing
my enemy's acquaintance.

So I have a little
confession to make.

You see, I pretended
that I was still delirious

until I could find a
propitious moment to escape.

But I see

that I evaluated the situation
wrong and I wanted to apologize now

for any inconvenience
that I may have caused you.

But, Mr. Plew,
about this morning.

You got any idea who jumped you?

I really haven't
the slightest idea.

What're you doing out
here all by yourself, anyway?

I have a very
pressing engagement

in the town of Deadhorse, and
because the stagecoach transportations

only make one trip a month,

I felt obliged to strike
out alone with Henrietta.

Then you was just riding along

and somebody took a shot at you
then buried you for no reason at all?

Well, no thinking animal
acts without reason

and no enemy strikes
without a cause, but gentleman,

in this particular case

neither the reason nor
the cause I understand.

Well, it's your problem,
have it your way.

You can tell the sheriff at
Deadhorse whatever you want.

You're going to Deadhorse?

That's right, going
to pick up supplies.

Till then, you can ride in
the supply wagon with Mushy.

Oh, that would be splendid,
but on one condition.

I must be there by the 13th.

Today's the 10th, day after
tomorrow, we'll get you there on time.

Oh, I can't tell you how delighted
I am, or how delicious this was.

Oh, I'll see if I can't
rustle you up some more.

You quoted from the
Book of Revelations.

That was chapter six, I believe.

That I look and
behold a pale horse

and his name that
sat on him was Death.

I ride a white mule,
not a white horse.

My name is Hannibal, not Death.

See, fear of the unknown
is a vagrant fancy

without visible
means of support.

Or perhaps it is
fear of oneself.

Mr. Mushgrove, would you,
uh, mind some company?

No, sir.

It's not that I object
to your wagon,

it's just that, uh...

That a steady diet of that canvas
siding makes for monotonous landscape.

After last night, I didn't think
you'd wanna ride with me.

Last night is a page already
turned in the book of memories,

gone, forgotten, meaningless.

Well, to you,
maybe, but not to me.

When I do something
wrong, I just can't forget.

You sound like a man who's
feeling sorry for himself, son.

Somebody has to.

Around here,

I'm just tanglefoot Mushy, the
clown who can't do anything right,

even when he does
everything right.

I mean...

Every once in a while I get
sick of it. I get sick of everything.

Let us rejoice and be glad,
therefore for the young life ahead of us.

Think where we might
be today, Mr. Mushgrove,

if Columbus had turned
away from his curiosity.

If the spirit of Don Quixote
had been struck down

by the turn of the windmill.

If Merlin had believed that magic
was the sole device of the devil.

Merlin?

He was the magician of
the court of King Arthur.

Surely you've heard about him?

The mysteries, the
complexities of legerdemain,

the hand that moves
quicker than the eye,

the art of false bottoms, a water
that runs uphill instead of down,

the miraculous conversion
of a hat into a lair for rabbits.

The transformation of
something into nothing.

That is miracles, to most people.
But mere tricks to the anointed few.

Now, here. Here is the
three of hearts, you see?

Watch it.

I'm gonna place it right
there, sir. There they are.

Where'd it go?
Where'd the card go?

Here you are, sir. Here you are.

A mere trick, nothing
more, nothing less.

Would you, uh, I mean, would you
mind showing me that trick, Mr. Plew?

On one condition, Mushy.
Why don't you call me Hannibal?

- What happened, Hey Soos?
- Over there.

- Diamondback. A real granddaddy.
- It hit you, huh?

We have to open that up.

Mushy, go get my medical
kit and build up a fire, hurry.

We'll set up camp
here, hold up the herd.

All right.

Settle back, Hey Soos, don't move
around anymore than you have to.

We don't want that
poison to circulate.

Oh, poison can't be stopped,

any more than
death can be stopped.

You make it sound
like the grim reaper's

taking up cattle driving
as a hobby, Hey Soos.

Forget it. You're
gonna be just fine.

Any change?

None that I can see.
Sure don't look good.

It's the fever I don't like.

Maybe I'd better double back
to Collins, pick up a doctor.

It's too late for that.

Unless something
is done right now.

Like what?

Well, some hot compresses on that
arm, a drawative, draw out the poison.

And keep him up, keep
him moving, moving, moving.

Moving, with that fever?

Take another look
there, Mr. Wishbone.

These are the classic
toxic poison symptoms.

There's the fever,
general lassitude

and the gradual collapse
of the reflex system.

Evidently, the tourniquet
and the incision were too late

because that poison is
already in the blood stream.

But moving him, what
good would that do?

Keep the blood circulating
and the poison with it,

keep it from localizing until such a time
as the toxic effects can be neutralized.

- Wish?
- No.

I don't like it because
I don't understand that.

And I don't like it because
I don't like being told

what to do by a question mark
that was dug out of a pile of rocks

and he don't even
know how he got there,

and don't belong out
here in the first place.

It's the only thing to be done.

Get me some hot water
and some compresses.

Many as you can find, quick.

Hey Soos.

Can you understand?

Not death, my boy, not yet.

Will you trust me?

Do I have any choice?

No, Hey Soos.

There is no choice.

"Two cats from
Kilkenny." Say it.

"Who thought there was one
cat too many." Now say that.

"One cat too many."

"One cat too
many." Right? Say it.

"So they fought and they fit.

They fought and they fit.

They fought and
they fit." All right?

Say it! "And they
scratched and they bit.

They scratched
and they bit." Say it.

Uh, I don't know that one. How
about, uh, "Hickory Dickory Dock."

Yeah.

Come on, "Hickory dickory dock."

I don't know that
one myself, so good.

Get a fresh one.

Hey Soos.

Mr. Wishbone.

Keep talking, Hey Soos.

Come on. "Till
except for their nails,

and the tip of their tails, instead
of two cats, there weren't any."

Come on, Hey Soos.

Come on, drink something.

"Except for their nails,

and the tip of their tails, instead
of two cats, there weren't any."

Come on, Hey Soos,
either talk or drink.

"Cats from Kilkenny."
PLEW: Louder, louder.

"Each thought there
was one cat too many.

So they fought and they fit,

and they scratched and they bit,

till with exception for their
nails and tips of their tails..."

Yeah.

"there were... Instead of
two cats, there weren't any.

There once were two cats..."

All right, all right, you can
stop now, there, Hey Soos.

Fever's broken, I think.

All right, all he needs
now is a little rest.

Rest. Carrying him around
all night and he needs rest?

Yeah, next thing you know
he'll want breakfast in bed.

No need for concern, gentlemen.
By this time tomorrow, he'll be fine.

Heh, he'll be fine.

Two hours ago, I wouldn't have
given him two minutes, and now...

He's fine. It's that simple.

About as simple as doing a
cartwheel over the North Star.

I don't eat crow very often,
Hannibal, but I'll sure do it now.

Between the cradle and the
grave lies but a haircut and a shave.

No, that was no miracle,
no cabalistic incantation.

Simple application of medical
theory, sometimes it works.

- Sometimes it don't.
- Sometimes it don't.

We know this much,
that when the wheel turns,

somebody wins, somebody loses.

Yeah, well, you turn
your wheel any today

and you're sure gonna
come up double ought.

Now, that head of your
isn't anywhere near healed,

and you been up all night.

Well, healed or not, or tired or not,
Henrietta and I must be moving on.

You mean now, today?

My appointment in Deadhorse
is still tomorrow, Mushy.

You don't do something
with that head,

your appointment is gonna
be with a funeral, yours.

Whatever it is, a day or two
won't make any difference.

- Time will still go on.
- No, Mushy.

With me, time stands still.

I go on.

Well,

Mr. Favor, I wanna tell you
I'm much obliged to you, sir.

The man who bushwhacked
you, Hannibal, what about him?

Nothing to be
afraid of in a failure.

Wish?

- Well, I could leave now.
- I might go with you.

If the difference between birth and
death is only a shave and a haircut,

I better get them
both in while I can.

Mushy, just hitch up the team.

Yes, sir.

I'm very grateful to you.

It's more other way
around, Hannibal.

You ever wanna take up cattle
driving, you know where to come.

Of course, if there are any,
complications with Hey Soos

why, repeat the same procedure,
keep him moving, force liquids.

Beyond that, of course, no man
born of woman can escape his destiny,

be it toxic poisoning...

Or an unmarked grave
on an unmapped trail.

You call it destiny,

and I'm learning not
to disagree with you.

But, uh, still seems to
me, it's just a piece of luck.

You and Hey Soos just dealt
the right cards at the right time.

And a good card player knows
precisely the right moment

to rise up and go home.

Just keep hauling, boys.
Don't let up on the strain.

All right, just
stand clear, boys.

I swing this, the wind is
likely to flatten half the town.

Whoa!

Mr. Wishbone, I thought you said
this town was dead and past burying.

Looks like it got
itself resurrected.

Hey, Ef, ain't you
getting tired yet?

Seems to me you can
find something better to do.

All right, all right.

You know what Judge Hogan said,

this hanging's
gotta go by the book.

That means we need
a real hanging tree.

Come on, I'll buy you a drink.

What's going on?

It look like a taffy pull?

We want any smart mouth,
we'll just take in the stage show.

Yeah, that's just about what
I'm beginning to look like.

And feel like, friend,

a hammer-swinging stage show.

You'd think these people never
saw two boards being nailed together.

This is being built for him.

At least, so, uh, old
Judge Hogan says.

He set the stretching
for 3:00 tomorrow.

You see something wrong?

This lumber could've
been cured longer.

Yes, it'll do, it'll do.

Where I come from, a
man sentenced to hang

don't usually
wander the streets.

Jud ain't wandering,
he's going to lunch.

You don't think he's gonna
take his meals in jail, do you?

Yeah, Jud Hammerklein
may be a lot of different things

but he's all the same
when it comes to his word.

And that's what he gave Asa.

- Asa?
- Yeah, Tanner. Sheriff Tanner.

He told him he's gonna
do just like the judge said,

stay put and not try to
break loose. At least until

after the time set
for the hanging.

After the hanging?

Now, you don't think
there's anybody in Deadhorse

gonna spring a trap on
Jud Hammerklein, do you?

Well, he not only owns this
town, but half the territory,

and, uh, every
second cousin in it.

Plus which, he's
got a couple of sons

and a range crew that don't
take no, not from nobody.

No. Jud ain't gonna hang.
Not here, not nowhere.

Then why build the scaffold?

Uh, you heard what he said.

Jud said everything's
got to go by the book.

Judge Hogan says he's gonna stay
in jail and hang at 3 sharp tomorrow.

And we're gonna do
just what the judge says,

except for the hanging.

Won't do. Never do at all.

Just what do you
think you're doing?

I say it won't do.

What won't do?

You men were kind
enough to drive me into town,

the least I can do is stand
you for a round of libations.

- Libations?
- That's drinks.

Name your own poison,
as the saying goes.

Like I said, what won't do?

What do you think, Mr. Wishbone?

Well, the supplies can
wait. After you, Hannibal.

Okay, all right.

For the last time,
what won't do?

You think you're
some kind of an expert?

An expert is the one who knows
more and more about less and less.

I only know one thing, that that scaffold
might do for hanging laundry, perhaps.

But a man? Never.

Excuse me.

Here you are, gentlemen.

The biggest steaks in the territory,
burned tasty black all the way through.

Better be, otherwise I'm gonna
park your backside on that stove there.

All right. Belly up, boys.
The drinks are on me.

I seen quieter stampedes.

Maybe that's because
they weren't so thirsty.

Excuse us, please.

Hey.

- A bottle of your best, if you please.
- Yes, sir.

- I'll take that, uh...
- You'll take what's put in front of you.

That don't make sense, Pa.

A condemned man's
supposed to have a bad appetite.

Condemned or not,
I'm a growing boy.

Gentlemen, to your health.

Jake.

It's him.

- No, can't be.
- I'm telling you, it's him.

You can't be.

Sheriff Tanner? TANNER: Mm-hm.

My name is Plew.
Hannibal H. Plew.

A Judge Hogan telegraphed the
Territorial Governor for my services.

Three o'clock
tomorrow, I believe.

Then you're the hanging man.

I'm afraid your
scaffold won't do.

The drop is far too short and
the trap is far too unreliable.

I shall need some equipment
and some assistance.

- Hannibal, why didn't you tell us?
- Well, well, well. What do you know?

A real live hangman,
right here in Deadhorse.

Take a good look, boys.

You don't often see a
professional man in these parts.

Tell me, how many
scalps you got in your belt?

Ten, twenty?

No, you don't look like much.

But in your profession, looks
don't count for much, do they?

It's a shame you had to
come all this way for nothing.

There's nothing I enjoy more than
watching a professional man work.

But life is full of disappointments,
we got to live with them.

All right, Mark. Pay him off.

With what, another 30-30 slug?

Who the heck are you, fella?

My name's Wishbone.
He answers to Mushy.

We're with a drive
a few miles south.

Mr. Wishbone.

As for Hannibal, there, we
found him under a pile of rocks.

Somebody put him
there with a rifle.

- I said no trouble. I gave my word.
- That was here in town, Pa.

I mean, what happened, that
was maybe 20 miles south of here.

Well, maybe
somebody's rifle slipped.

Oh, and that pile of rocks
just happened to rain down?

Maybe you'd like
some of this in writing.

The county line, that's as
far as my jurisdiction goes.

You got any complaints, why
don't you see a Federal Marshal?

All right. All right.

It shouldn't have
happened but it did.

I'll make it easy by upping the
ante. That way nobody gets hurt.

Hey, hangman,

what will you take to, uh...

To forget what you're here for?

The Territory's compensation is
more than adequate, thank you.

All I need from you, sir,
is your age, your height,

and your weight.