All language subtitles for woman-walks-ahead-2017-720p-1080p-bluray-x264-rovers

Dear sir,

my name is Catherine Weldon
and I live in New York City.

I studied portrait painting as a young woman,

but when I married,

it was deemed unsuitable for me
to pursue a profession.

Recently, I visited an exhibition

of George Catlin paintings
of American Indians,

and my breath was taken away.

It was the freedom that struck me.

Even inside the paintings,
the people were free.

I discovered that no portrait of you,
the great Chief Sitting Bull, exists

in any of our public galleries,

and I intend to rectify the situation.

Almost one year ago, my husband died,

and I've been in mourning ever since.

No.

Please stop here.

Now my deep grief has finally passed.

And I can find consolation in my work.

I've not sought the permission
of my father or my husband's family,

so you may think
I am something of a renegade.

I assure you, this is not by nature
but by circumstance.

I've written to the Agent
to say I'm on my way.

"Dear Mr. McLaughlin,

I have painted many portraits
of senators, congressmen,

and even a vice president.

But lately I took a decision to head west,

with the intention of painting portraits
of Indians

who've made their own mark on history.

In particular, I'm keen to capture on canvas

the last of the great Sioux war chiefs,
Chief Sitting Bull."

Tell her, "Hell, no."

She's also enclosed a letter
addressed to Sitting Bull

to be delivered in person.

New York liberals stoking the flames.

When she gets here, arrest her.

Hello?

- Fresh linens, ma'am?
- Oh, yes, please.

- How long till we get to Omaha?
- Half a day.

- You're an Indian, aren't you?
- Yes, ma'am.

- Which tribe?
- Presbyterian.

I'm heading to Standing Rock Reservation.
I'm going to paint Sioux Indians.

Have you ever been to Standing Rock?

The Sioux hunted my people like rabbits,

cut out their hearts and fed 'em to the dogs.

You call me if you need any more towels.

Ma'am.

Thank you.

Forgive me, ma'am, but, uh...

very few unaccompanied ladies
travel beyond Omaha.

Then they are missing some rare beauty.

- You're not a soldier's wife?
- No.

Soldiers' wives don't see the beauty
of the prairie, only its hazards.

Well, are you gonna make me guess?

You seem very good at it.

You're a missionary.

Oh. No, unfortunately,
I don't have the certainty.

Well, the only stop left
is Standing Rock Reservation.

If you're not a soldier's wife
and you're not a missionary,

what other business could you possibly have?

- I'm a painter.
- A painter?

Yes, a full-time painter.

I'd guess you came out here
from New York City.

Why?

'Cause New York is the headquarters

of the National Indian Defense Association.

From time to time, they send
their political agitators out west

to stir things up on the reservations.

I guess that's closer to the truth.

I just told you, I'm a painter.

Painters can be agitators, too. Often are.

So, now I'm a spy?

I'd guess you're traveling to Standing Rock

to promote opposition
to the Allotment Act treaty.

Sir, if I knew what the Allotment treaty was,

which I don't, I probably would oppose it.

You sure as hell couldn't paint it.

I met you two minutes ago,

and already you have accused me
of being a spy and a liar.

I work for the War Department, darling.

I didn't mean to be presumptuous,
but you do have that certain look.

What look is that?

The look of someone
filled with good intentions.

Oh!

And that's bad?

West of Missouri, it can be lethal.

Would you mind if I gave you
some practical advice?

I don't really care for practical advice

from someone who's such
a poor judge of character.

May I take your order, ma'am?

No, I'll eat in my compartment. Thank you.

- Yes, ma'am.
- Ma'am.

Porter!

Hey, not her. I need you here.

Yes, sir.

- I'll give you a hand with that.
- Oh! Thank you.

- Sounds good, Charlie.
- Colonel.

This lady here, she came all the way
from New York to paint Indians.

Is that a fact?

- Oh!
- I hope they fuck you.

Cut the baby out,
like they did the Robinson girls.

Indian-loving bitch.

I'm sorry, Colonel. My blood boils.

If you had any sense at all,
you'd get back on that train,

return east with it today.

Hello.

Do you know somewhere maybe I could...

hire a wagon?

Oh.

This is really very kind of you.

So, is the weather often this bad?

Or is this unusual?

Please be careful.
There are bottles of turpentine in there.

Wait!

Slow down!

Good afternoon. Agent McLaughlin?

Colonel Groves. War Department.
Special Envoy for General Crook.

Where's the rest of it?

Yeah, General Crook's ordered
a 50 percent cut in rations

of flour, bacon and sugar

to take effect immediately.

When a new treaty needs to be ratified,

it's our experience that hunger
concentrates the Indian mind.

This is my wife, Susan. Susan?

Do you find that hunger
concentrates your mind?

We don't encourage the use
of the old language on the reservation.

Thank you, dear.

Hot as hell out there.

You fucking idiots in Washington
want to start another war?

No, sir.

Mr. McLaughlin, did you give permission
to that crazy woman

to come onto the reservation?

Agent McLaughlin.
It's a pleasure to meet you.

Sorry. I look a mess.
It's kind of dusty out here.

Well, we're in the middle
of a three-month drought.

Sorry if it inconvenienced you.

You got my letter?

Didn't wait for a reply?

Why would you refuse?

Mrs. Weldon, I order you to be on the train

when it returns east tomorrow morning.

You order me?

Find her a cabin for the night.

Escort her back to the train in the morning.

Can I help you with your luggage?

Her luggage was stolen.

Mrs. Weldon, I hope you made a sketch
of the thief before he got away.

If I gave you money,

would you get word to Sitting Bull I'm here?

I'll be back tomorrow morning at dawn.
You'll be here, right?

- Who is it?
- It's me.

Go away. I'm writing to my congressman.

You really should lock this door.

Lot of thieves around.

I'll be upcountry in the morning,
so I came to say goodbye.

Maybe arrange to meet for dinner,
next time I'm in New York.

Why would I want to have dinner with you?

I don't know. We might get along.

I paint a little myself.

Landscapes.

You're an admirer of George Catlin.

- You know his work?
- You bet.

I can't look at these
the way most people do, though.

The scalp dance.

Saw my first scalp dance
in the Black Hills back in '75.

But when I saw it,
there were little blonde scalps.

The warriors had stumbled across

some Swedish immigrant children
walking to school.

The little girls had blue ribbons
tied up in their hair.

Mr. Groves, I've no doubt...

terrible things have happened here
in the past.

The past?

You ever wish you were young again,
Mrs. Weldon?

I mean really young. Eighteen.

No mistakes. Still strong, still free.

Well, on this reservation,
there's a whole nation

wants to be young again.

But their youth isn't in the past.

Their youth lives in a log cabin
20 miles west of here down a dirt road.

Their youth is called Sitting Bull.

This is my other reason for dropping by.

- I'm afraid there's a little blood.
- Blood?

That old Indian stole your trunk,
drank the turpentine,

so when the police went to get your stuff,

he was drunk, pulled a gun, so they shot him.

Maybe you want to put that in your letter
to your congressman.

Mrs. Weldon! Time to go.

I'm not leaving.

Oh!

Did Sitting Bull even get the letter
I sent him?

No. Agent burnt it.

He burnt it?

Well, naturally.
He's God Almighty here, right?

I read it, though, before he burnt it.

Is it true you've painted senators?

Before I married, I used to paint
commissions for the Smithsonian.

I wanted Sitting Bull to know
that I've painted important people before.

This isn't the way I came from the station.

Where are we?

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

He's in the fields, digging potatoes.

- Who is?
- My uncle. Sitting Bull.

There he is.

My name's Catherine Weldon.
I'm deeply honored to meet you.

What happened?

Don't I get an explanation?

I had this stupid idea
you might be able to help us.

Help with what?

I've got friends from Indian school,
Kiowas, Comanches,

and last summer
a new treaty took half their land.

And this winter it's our turn,
but no one here gives a damn.

The young ones just get drunk,
and the old ones,

they dance a ghost dance.

My uncle? He says his day is done.

He'd rather dig damn potatoes.

What good do you think I could do?

I thought you could get a message
to your senators.

Maybe they would listen
if it came from Sitting Bull.

Let's go.

I want to speak to him.

So speak to him.
He speaks English well enough.

When he wants to.

Excuse me.

I have traveled many miles from the east,

across many...

rivers and hills

for the honor of speaking with you.

You got a train from New York, right?

Did you get a Pullman?

- Yes.
- Nice.

They gave me free cigars, too.

I have a proposition.

So, who have you painted before?

Oh, Congressman Tom Ochiltree from Texas

and Senator Eamonn Brooks from Idaho.

- So, how much?
- How much for what?

For painting someone's picture.

Oh, I usually charge $40, but in this case...

I mean how much would you pay me?

I'd be happy to pay you $50.

One hundred dollars.

Five hundred dollars.

One thousand dollars.

That's a lot of money. I...

I don't have that kind of cash with me.

There's a First National Bank in town.

One thousand dollars it is.

Do we have a deal?

What?

It's raining.

How long has it been since it rained?

When Lakota first meet,
we don't speak for a while.

Oh.

Words get in the way
of getting to know each other.

Sorry.

You could throw some wood
on the fire, though.

Lakota like a woman who works hard.

That's not firewood. That's furniture.

Maybe I could make some coffee?

Well, to make coffee, you'd need coffee.

The children want to see the woman
who brought the rain.

- I've cleared this cabin for you.
- Oh!

What will you tell McLaughlin?

That I put you on the train.
You climbed off again.

He trusts you?

He thinks I spy on my uncle for the Agency.

But it's the other way around.

What do you want?

You are dancing with the ghosts now?

I spoke to the spirit of your father,

and your mother, and your brothers,

and your son, and Crazy Horse.

They said the Bull must choose...

between being a warrior or a farmer.

Who was that?

Shell King.

This used to be his cabin,
until I told him to leave.

He looked so...

magnificent.

Do you always walk this fast?

Why?

I'm trying to get ahead of you
before someone sees us.

You don't walk ahead of a chief.

Should I walk behind?

Side by side is fine.

Are you all right?

Walking so fast has loosened my bullets.

What bullets?

I have four bullets still in my body.

They move around.

What does your husband think
about you coming here?

I'm a widow.

- I'm sorry.
- I'm not.

Mrs. Weldon. May I speak with you in private?

- What do you want?
- I'm here to rescue you.

- Rescue me?
- Hear you got yourself kidnapped.

These gentlemen are gonna
escort you to Cannon Ball,

catch the next train heading east.

That's very kind of you, Mr. Groves.
Go to hell.

Mrs. Weldon, Dakota territory is hell.

Since I've been here,
I've seen deplorable conditions,

and I hear the treaty you're here to serve
will only make things worse.

Look here, it's time you get on that train

and report back to your seditionist friends

in Greenwich Village.

Well, If I take the train, I can be
in Washington DC by Thursday.

The editor of The Post is an investor
in my father's shipping business.

From his office,
I will go direct to the Senate,

then to the Bureau of Indian Affairs,

and finally accept
a long-standing dinner invitation

with former Vice President Buckley.

It'd be kind of unfortunate to meet all
those important people without all the facts.

So, the truth is important
to both of us. Good.

Maybe you should stick around
till General Crook gets here

and I have the final draft of the treaty.

Mrs. Weldon, do not give him reason to hope.

No one here's forgotten or forgiven,

least of all General Crook
and the 7th Cavalry.

Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse
massacred the 7th at Little Bighorn.

- I don't need a history lesson.
- It's not history till it's over.

And for the 7th, this isn't over
until Sitting Bull's dead.

And if they kill him, half the Sioux Nation

will throw themselves
against the American Army,

and Little Bighorn will be avenged.
You follow?

I'm just here to paint a painting.

Whoa!

Welcome to Fort Yates, General Crook.

Mr. McLaughlin.

- Where's the Bull?
- A painter came from New York.

Seems to appeal to Sitting Bull's vanity.

He's having his portrait painted
while his people dance with ghosts.

He's not gonna be a problem, sir.

He's shown no interest
in opposing the commission.

Get a message to this painter

and tell him I'd like him
to join me for dinner.

It's a woman, actually.

Man, those New York ladies
love a bad man, don't they?

Invite her to dinner anyway.

This is the suit I wore

to meet the President of the United States.

It's beautiful.

But I was hoping for something
a little more traditional.

The Agent doesn't like us to wear buckskins.

If the white farmers around here
see an Indian in skins,

they get scared.

Well, okay, then. The suit's fine.

The Agent said we should burn
all the old stuff.

Some we burnt.

Some we hid.

For $1,000, you should get what you want.

You're gonna need a horse.

No.

- I don't ride.
- What?

In New York City,
we don't need to ride horses.

This is Rico. Buffalo Bill gave him to me.

He's a circus horse.

It'd be just like sitting on a chair.

When you click your tongue...

he paws the ground.

When he hears a gunshot...

he dances.

Come on, stroke him.

No, I don't want to stroke him.

Wherever it is we're going, I'll walk.

- Your shoes.
- My shoes are walking shoes.

I paid $1,000.
If I want to walk, I will damn well walk.

Does the snow stay
on the mountains all year round?

It's not snow. It's bones.

Buffalo bones.

When the buffalo hear a gunshot,
they don't run. They stand.

So the white hunters
could just shoot and shoot

until they were all dead.

We used to spend our lives
following the buffalo herds.

Now they've all gone,
and we have to live in one place

and ask the earth to grow potatoes.

You'll never be free on the prairie
if you don't ride.

Freedom's in the head.

And in the feet.

My feet are just fine.

Try these.

My old ones, soft buckskin.

You got big feet for a woman.

You got small feet for a man.

It means "big feet."
Maybe that could be your Indian name.

They called George Catlin
"Mystery Spirit Painter."

Think of something like that.

Whoa.

She getting on that damn horse yet?

You walk behind me,
looks like I've taken you prisoner.

Behind. In front.
So many rules about walking.

Can't I just walk?

Rico's taking it pretty badly
you don't like him.

It's okay, Rico. She's from New York.

I thought you liked New York.

Too many people with too much.

Too many people with nothing at all.

Your society values people
by how much you have,

ours by how much we give away.

Soft. Feel.

We used to use the buffalo's brains
to soften the hide.

Every animal has exactly enough brains
to tan its own hide.

Never too much.

Never too little.

You can look now.

You think you could wear your feathers?

Why not?

Same reason you don't wear
your wedding dress.

I need you to come outside, though.

You can paint me in here.

There's no light in here.

You can't see my face?

When you've smoked, you'll come outside, yes?

Mrs. Weldon, don't talk to me
like you don't know who I am.

I'll be outside.

So, Mrs. Weldon,

how come you're scared of horses?

I got locked in a stable.

My dad's best saddle horse, called Sultan.

I was eight years old.

My father...

locked me in there on purpose.

Since then, I haven't ridden horses.

Why would he do that?

Decided I needed to be taught to obey,

broken like a horse,

because I wasn't... behaving like a lady.

It was the way I wiped my mouth...

at the dinner table,
our country place, and some...

some grand people came to dinner.

I was eight years old, and...

I wiped my mouth with my sleeve.

I was traded from father to husband.

I've decided to change.

I'm trying... not to care
what people think of me.

That's why I'm out here on my own in the...

middle of nowhere.

At my age, it's kind of stupid.

It's damned hard being brave.

So, anyway,

I'd really prefer to work outside,
if that's okay with you.

You're not good at keeping still, are you?

Shoot me, then I will be still.

What would be the point of shooting you?

Bullets don't seem to have any effect.

Goddamn. She really is a painter.

The eagle is telling Sitting Bull we're here.

What?

You're gonna paint me now?

In New York,
I draw naked people all the time.

I can see without looking.

So, would you take your clothes off
in front of me?

- You're not a painter.
- No?

I've painted a painting
for every year of my life.

This was the first man
I ever killed in battle,

a Crow on the Powder River.

My name then was Hunkesni. It means "slow".

Slow?

I thought before I spoke.

And on this day I became a man.

You became a man by killing someone?

Someone who would have killed
my mother and sister.

- How old were you?
- Thirteen.

This is the death of my father.

And this is how I killed the man
who killed him.

This is the year when the measles first came.

Half our village died.

Is that General Custer?

I met with Tashunka Witko, Crazy Horse.

We decided we needed to all be together
if we were to survive.

The Hunkpapa, Oglala, Blackfeet,

Minneconjou, Cheyenne, Arapaho.

Crazy Horse was a religious man.

He said the people needed a sign
for them to believe in their own strength.

I went to seek a vision that year.

This was my vision:

White soldiers falling from the sky.

Two days later, Long Hair, Custer,
came with his army.

We didn't leave a single one of them alive.

After that year,

they tracked down every chief
who fought in that battle,

killed them all.

Except for you.

So, you see?

I am a painter, too.

This is one of the most exquisite
pieces of work I've ever seen.

Then why does it make you sad?

Because you've lived all this

and turned it into something beautiful.

The only battle I ever fought against
is insignificance.

So live more.

Live more. Yes.

That's what I want to do.

Must have been hell to be in jail
after living like this.

I was never in jail.

This body full of bullets was in jail.

But I was out there.

The guards thought I was sleeping.

But I'd made myself into an eagle.

Is there something wrong?

It's cold. Why are there no fires?

Where is everyone?

This morning at Fort Yates,
they issued copies of the new treaty.

Then they announced the new winter rations.

Everything's cut in half: beef, flour, sugar.

They're gonna starve us into signing.

When people heard the news,
they came running here asking for you,

even Arapahoes and Cheyennes.

The Shell King came.

He asked where was Sitting Bull
when his people needed him.

He said you were off with the white woman,
a government spy,

who arrived on the same train
as the man who cut the rations.

He said you abandoned them.

When Shell King left,
most of the villagers left with him.

They went off to join the ghost dance.

What's... What's the ghost dance?

An Indian from the south had a vision.

He said if the Lakota wear certain clothes
and dance a certain dance,

then the old ways would return.

The buffalo will come running,

scattered across the prairie,
like they used to.

The Indians who died of hunger
and measles, they will return,

and the white man will leave us alone.

They dance until they fall.

There's nothing left for them but to dance.

Uncle, while you have been digging potatoes,

the people have split into 100 factions.

Enough.

Uncle, we need you to be our leader again.

Grandfather.

How should we behave?

Mrs. Weldon,
last night I asked the spirits for help.

What did they say?

They told me it was time for you
to go into town, do some shopping.

People get scared when Indians dance.

Dancing was scalps and war.

They see dancing, they want soldiers.

By the way, General Crook and McLaughlin
are having a dinner.

They told me to tell you
you're invited to the party.

I can only give you 32 sacks
of white flour, ma'am. That's it.

The rest is earmarked for the Army.

Very well, then. Thirty-two will have to do.

And beans, I've only got black beans
in that quantity.

Black beans is fine.
One hundred large sacks, please.

And 50 barrels of molasses.

All set.

All right, keep 'em coming.

Whoa, whoa.

And this is all for
the Sioux police barracks?

So, how come the white woman's paying cash?

No English. Hup.

Catherine Weldon.

There you go, whore.
Now you're red, just like him.

You'd better go. They're looking for rope.

We give thanks to you for the food.

Woman Walks Ahead.

- Right, we all ready?
- Yeah.

Good morning.

Yeah, we'll see. Right.

Number 21, please.

Yeah, wait, she does understand

that her beef and flour rations
have been cut in half, doesn't she?

What did she say?

She said she already has enough flour.

From where?

She said from the Great Spirit.

General Crook.

We have a problem at Standing Rock.

Mrs. Weldon is buying food for the Indians,

thereby... thereby undermining
the ration system.

I recommend we arrest her,
keep her locked up until after the vote.

Thought you said I didn't need
to worry about Sitting Bull.

I was wrong. She's agitating him.

She has him wearing buckskins and feathers.

You can't arrest someone
for spending their own money.

Sir, with all due respect, our job here

is to deliver a ratification
of the Allotment Act.

I bet my old friend Sitting Bull
feels about potatoes

the way I feel about you, Mr. Groves.

She's agitating the Bull, sir.
She's agitating him to act.

No, she's a painter painting what she sees.

When she sees the Bull, she sees a warrior.

I, too, am a warrior.
Our destinies appear to be entwined.

Sir, I fear that for some
among your regiment,

this return to Dakota is about revenge.

Vengeance is for the Lord to take.

But maybe our good Lord sent us Mrs. Weldon.

Sir...

Permission to issue
an arrest warrant is denied.

Do you remember who did this?

The whole town.

I guess I really made them mad, huh?

The local paper...

seems to have gotten the idea that...

you and me are somehow
romantically connected.

Some joke, huh?

They also think that...

you and me are planning
some kind of uprising.

Imagine.

A painter of a certain age
and an old potato farmer.

Once, I would have taken 100 warriors
and finished that whole town.

But I've learned to swallow it,
like swallowing rocks.

If we fight, they'll massacre us all.

We can fight it in an election.

They have to put the treaty to a vote.
There won't be any need for violence.

Where are you going?

To get someone to saddle Rico.

Take care of her.

Sometimes, the sadness I feel
for the passing of the old days

is such that I find it hard to swallow.

The Dakota wind, the smell of buffalo
and churned-up grass,

smoking pine, burning fat, tobacco,

Indian girls wearing cut sage,
sleeping on soft furs.

But, you see, it is time.

Time cannot be resisted.

Change comes the way the rain comes.
Those days cannot return.

But, still,

there are rocks inside a man
that the rain won't wash away.

- Meaning what exactly?
- Meaning debts remain.

You reckon you're owed something?

Should we serve the soup?

General Crook, since the arrival of your men,

I must say there's been an air of sourness
about the place.

Yes. Because debts remain.

Those beautiful days are not quite gone.
Not quite.

Yes, Susan, why don't you bring the soup?

I got your invitation. Sorry I'm a bit late.

I have decided to help
with the democratic process.

What happened to you?

I've already written to Senator Fracks
about my presence here at the reservation.

I posted the letter in Cannon Ball,

where certain wild rumors about me
led to a very violent reception.

Mrs. Weldon, if you have been assaulted,

I will take the matter up
with the police and the military.

I've decided to help the campaign
against the treaty.

I have a democratic right to do this
as part of the political process.

Any violent move against me
or any of the people I campaign with

will be reported to the Senator by wire.

You really should see a doctor about that.

I have been to a doctor. Good evening.

Sitting Bull.

He is...

what he thinks.

This...

is what he thinks.

Sitting Bull.

Maybe you should begin by
explaining what the allotment is

and show them how much land
will be taken away if they agree.

I can't be seen taking orders from you.

Now we will have to wait.

This treaty

is completely unjust.

Even the Comanche and Shoshone

wouldn't sign it.

How's it going?

These elders,
they don't care to be told what to do.

How do we convince them to vote?

With food. I hope it's good.

This white woman cooks well.

Also she's got a good body.

I heard she is a spy.

You heard wrong.

Can she read?

Mm-hmm.

Has she read the treaty?

She says it is plain robbery.

You should be with her.

Okay, maybe I will be,

someday.

Fathers, we must tell all
the people to vote...

I say forget the vote.

We should meet General Crook in
the red earth valley by the Powder River.

We can ambush him

and cut off his...

Actually, I was hoping

to discuss the vote.

What are they saying?

The older ones, the new ways
of resisting may take some time.

My relatives,

white people are trying to take our land

and make us live like they do.

If we do that we will die like the buffalo.

The Great Spirit

owns the land and the sky.

And that is how it's been

since the beginning of time.

The crowds are getting bigger every time.

Getting angrier, too.

They've been angry for a long time.

Are we here for the night?

You are here for the night.

Where are you going?

Can't you hear?

The thunder spirits have returned.

I read that the thunder spirits bring war.

They will vote for us.

What's happening?

My campaign committee.

People of the Sioux Nation,

I declare this commission open
for submission.

Let me introduce the commission's mediator,

Colonel Silas Groves.

Good afternoon.

Before I ask the General to give
his own testimony to his commission,

I have a list of council elders

who've all agreed to share
their opinions with us.

And, to begin, I'd like to start

by calling Sioux Chief Black Bear
of the Sans Arc Sioux.

The white people

have brought something good to us.

We will not own the land as a group.

Instead we will...

Chief Black Bear,
please carry on with your testimony.

He's saying that's all he has to say.

Guess the cat got his tongue.

Next we'll hear from, uh...

Chief Yellow Hand.

Yellow Hand?

Then can we hear from John Grass
of the Minneconjou?

Come on, John!

Sir, maybe we should call this off.

I thought you bribed these people.

I have a list of six more chiefs
who gave me their word

they'd speak here today
in favor of the Allotment Act.

Are any of them prepared to stand up?

We have a real chance here.
Maybe we should adjourn till tomorrow.

- I would like to speak.
- No, you won't.

He's not a registered member
of any tribal council.

- We have the power to say no.
- Power?

- You wanna speak, Bull? You go ahead.
- General.

Let the man speak, for Christ's sake.
This is a free land.

What do you have to say, my old friend?

Since the white man came

and broke up the grassland with his ploughs,

the earth has turned to dust.

In this dust,
there is the body of Crazy Horse...

American Horse...

Spotted Tail...

Black Kettle...

Sword...

Two Moons...

Rain in the Face.

When the wind blows...

it blows our heroes in our faces.

Our diplomats.

Our doctors.

Our priests.

Our dead children.

The Great Spirit speaks to us
in clouds of dust.

You cannot sell...

pieces of the earth...

because the earth belongs to God.

We must tell these people to go home...

back to Washington,

and not hurt the earth anymore.

Enough. Enough.

We will give no more of our land away.

Not even this much.

Anybody else care to speak?

Why are you not helping me, General?

- We have to adjourn.
- Adjourn?

Why don't we go straight to a vote?

Sir, if we vote now, they'll vote against.
You know that.

It's called democracy, Colonel Groves.

This is a mistake, General.

All those in favor of the Allotment Treaty,

line up at the red circle.

Those against it, line up at the blue.

What the hell are they doing?
They're handing us a victory.

You don't get it, do you?
Don't you understand?

This is what the General wanted all along.

If we lose the vote,
they'll have an excuse to go to war.

And deep down,
that's what the Bull wants, too.

To find our way on the open prairie,
we stop sometimes

and look, remember.

With people, too.

You stop sometimes and look and remember.

It's called cantognake.

To place and hold in your heart.

This moment.

Our power returning.

Young again.

Hold it in your heart.

You are already in my heart.

So, you should know...

the spirits have told me
that this is the winter

I'll cross over into the spirit world.

No. I don't want...

Don't tell me that.

Cantognake.

I've finished it.

Come and see.

You've made me look too old.

Congratulations.

It's a beautiful painting.

Get out of my house.

I came to warn you.

Tomorrow morning before dawn,

they will be coming to arrest you.

What did he say?

Sedition. Intimidation of witnesses.

Ghost Dance religion.

Doesn't really matter a damn.

I remember your face.

We were hiding in the Killdeer mountains.

It was snowing

when the soldiers came.

Half the women and children surrendered.

You gave the order to open fire.

You killed them all.

That's why I'm here.

I hoped perhaps there wouldn't be
any more blood on the snow.

Hoped that for once

history would go in a straight line,

not in a circle.

You think I forgive you?

No.

But if it means anything,

I haven't really slept since that day.

When they come for you,
they will kill her too.

If you care about her,

send her outside when the moon rises.

What is it?

Don't forget about our dinner
in New York City, Mrs. Weldon.

Jesus, it's so quiet.
I wish a dog would bark.

They really can't charge you with sedition.

And I'm a witness
you never took part in any violence.

When does the river freeze?

When the geese fly.

We have to leave before then, or...

we'll be stuck here all winter.

We'll leave tomorrow.

And when we go to New York,
we can stay in my apartment.

My parents will have a fit.

There's lights in the streets now
since you've been there.

It never really gets dark anymore.

Fire needs more logs.

I'm warm enough.

Go. The Lakota like a woman who works hard.

Woman Walks Ahead.

Hold and keep me in your heart.

No! No!

What's happening?

Corporal? Where are you going?

We're off the reservation.
You're free to go. You're safe.

Mrs. Wel... Mrs. Weldon,
you'll never make it!