All language subtitles for Winterhawk.1975.720p.BluRay.H264.AAC-RARBG

I grieve...

for you...

and for the loss of your son.

Oh, he may be another victim
of my people.

It could be smallpox.

It ain't for sure.

Smallpox?

Now, you're gonna have to burn
everything this boy has touched.

Burn his blankets, his clothes.

And you're even gonna
have to burn down this tipi.

It's possible
that the white man's discovered

some kind of remedy, cure.

Remedy?

Something to make
your people strong.

You will have to trade
with the white man.

I have never traded
with the white man.

Well, I ain't asking you to trade
for trade's sake.

I'm asking you to save your people.

Who will save us
from the white man?

In the summer of 1840,

a smallpox epidemic wiped out
over half of the Blackfoot nation.

I was a young woman then,

and this country was known
as the Indian Territory.

49 years later,

after the wagon trains
had moved westward,

and the cowboys arrived
with their herds of cattle

and pushed the buffalo
off of the grasslands,

it was to become
the state of Montana.

But in my youth,

this big sky country
belonged to the eagle, the elk,

the buffalo, and the bear.

The people here
were as much a part of the land

as the wind and the sun.

Looking north is Canada,

where the aloof and proud
Blackfoot Tribes

blended like shadows
into the landscape.

There, for generations,

they have told
around their campfires

the legend of a great, young chief
of the Blackfoot

and of a white girl.

I was that girl.

And the Blackfoot chief
was called...

Winterhawk.

Because his people
were in deadly peril,

Winterhawk was forced to ride
to the white man's camp.

The only white people
in this country then

were mountain men
and a few missionaries.

Some of the mountain men,

like Winterhawk's friend
Elkhorn Guthrie,

married Indian women

and built strong bonds
of friendship with the tribe.

Back then,
Winterhawk was probably

the most mysterious Indian
in the West.

Even to the Indians.

No white man but Guthrie
had ever seen him.

We'd heard of Winterhawk,

but there was some doubt
he really existed.

It was said by the Indians

that this legendary
and mysterious young chief,

riding like the wind
on his spotted white horse,

was a messenger of the spirits.

That he could smell like a wolf,

run like an antelope,
and see like an eagle.

The furs he trapped were said
to be the finest in the land.

Amazing Grace

How sweet the sound

That saved a wretch...

I am Clayanna Finley.

My brother Cotton and I
had come West with our uncle,

Will Finley,
who was a missionary and a trader.

He was taking us to join our father.

The yearly fur rendezvous
was a big event in our lives.

And all the people
for a hundred miles around

gathered to trade
and enjoy each others company.

That-a-way!

Amazing Grace

How sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost

But now am found

Was blind

But now I see

Hello!

Okay.

Welcome.

Okay.

I don't know what he is.

But if my guess is right,
he's Blackfeet.

Anybody here speak Blackfeet?

Anybody here speak Blackfeet?

Yeah, I know a little of the tongue.

Okay.

I come... to get... medicine.

Trade.

For cure.

Medicine.

Remedy.

Well, now, the cure and the remedy
for what?

Small...

Smallpox.

Oh, my God!

Well, uh,
we can't help you here,

but him and me, we know a man
that lives over there

that maybe he can help you.

If you'll just come with us,

we'll take you over
and talk with him.

That'd be all right?

You just follow along behind us,
kind of.

But hang back a little, though.

Come on! Get! Move!

Get off!

- Scoby!
- What are you up to?

Shut up and watch me!

Get over there!
Get over there!

Get over there.

Let's go, let's go!

- One of 'em got away!
- It don't matter! Go get them first!

From the sound of gunfire,

we knew something had happened
in the woods.

Watching the young chief
on his magnificent horse

as he raced away,

I heard someone say,

"It's got to be the one
they call Winterhawk. "

Now, long after the sound
of his hoof beats

had faded in the distance,

and the shock of those
murderous shots had passed,

the sight of him, riding away,
stayed in my thoughts.

Bits of stories I had heard
about Winterhawk came to mind,

and I wondered,

"How did this man exert such power
by his mere presence?"

It gave me a very strange feeling.

Clayanna, I don't want you going out
no more at night alone,

especially after
what happened today.

I'm all right.

Uncle Will, who is Winterhawk?

I don't know.

He's the son of Chief Red Calf,

and that gives him
pretty high breeding.

So...

So, if it means
what I think it means,

he'll be back.

You mean, he'll be back
for Gates and Scoby?

I figure he'll locate us
long before he does Gates or Scoby.

When you found
those two dead braves,

was there any sign which way
Gates and Scoby headed?

It looked like to me
they headed down the river.

From the smell of him,
I wish he was heading down wind.

Son, then I say
we go after Gates and Scoby.

And turn them over to Winterhawk.

That might work,
but I don't think Winterhawk's

gonna be too particular
about who he gets even with.

Sis, do you believe in God?

Of course I do, Cotton.

You don't believe He's an old man
with a long, white beard, do you?

No, I don't.

Then, what is He?

Oh, gosh, Cotton.

That's gonna be hard
for you to understand.

He's everything,
and He knows all about you.

He judges what's in a man's heart.

Like our Pa?

No. No, not exactly like our Pa.

Although our Pa
is a great man of God.

But God is a force, He's...
He's a power.

He's the creator of everything
that's good.

But does He protect us?

Well, of course He protects us.
Come on.

Oh, my God, Cotton, run!

Run, Cotton!
Please, hurry!

Ow!

Let me go! Let me go!

Please!
Cotton!

Help me, somebody!
Help me!

Please!

Please! Please, let me go!

Winterhawk

Slowly you can sail

Borne upon the winds

Where gods play

And the sacred stone's
spirits speak

Of the passing sounds

To all their dreams

Winterhawk

Hear your people cry

With their tears recall

Great men die

From the morning mist

Trouble came

Heals the bleeding land

Once again

He's a hawk, he'll fly

None will see him now

Winterhawk

Tastes the wide stream

Walks the pathless woods

Lost in dream

And the bird of prey

Soars in flight

Cross the mists of time

Till star-bright

Oh, my God!

Oh!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa, damn it!

Holy Jesus.

Someone comes.

I ain't asking you
to do this for nothing.

I've got a little money,

and I'm willing to pay you
for the loss of time.

Now, what do I need with money?

What could money possibly buy me
that I ain't already got?

You just look around you here.

I got shelter,

I got fresh meat on this table
almost every day,

and all the loving a man my age
could possibly stand.

No, you ain't lookin'
at a man in want, Mr. Finley.

And, besides, he's my friend.

What does that mean?

Who's your friend?

Winterhawk.

You think he's out to hurt him,
Guthrie?

No, no, I think
they're gonna be well-treated

and be raised as Blackfeet,

most likely become members
of the tribe.

Well, Clayanna's a mature woman.
Besides...

- Is she ugly?
- On the contrary.

Well, then, you got no problem.

Winterhawk don't like her,

some big buck
will take a shine to her,

make her his squaw.

You are an Indian lover!

That's right.

You knew that
before we brought you up here.

Looks like what we got here
is, uh, matter of pride.

Pride? Pride, hell.

Everyone of you knows
that Finley's got a little money,

and you just think
you might have a chance

to get your hands on some of it.

You ain't worried
about no boy and girl.

All right, I'll go with you.

But not because of your damn pride
or because of your money.

Pale Flower,
get me some more stew.

Now, I'm going with you because...

I kind of feel responsible
for all this.

I sent Winterhawk down there
to trade for the cure.

And I didn't have sense enough
to go along with him

to see there would be no trouble.

And that's why I'm going.

We leave at first light.

What does he want with us?

My uncle will pay you
in trade goods to get us back.

Why don't you quit, sis?

He don't understand nothing.

Come on.

Winterhawk not steal for money.

What, then?

He take you and boy
because white man steal from him.

What's the matter with him?

The white man is following.

But he must turn back.

Don't you worry, Cotton.

They're coming.

They'll catch up to us.

Way before he can get us
into that high country.

Now, weeks had passed

since Cotton and I
had been taken captive.

I had expected the worst.

But so far,
we had been treated fine.

Of course, the hard riding
from dawn 's first light

to evening's darkness,

and the rough food,
which was normal for them,

was very hard
on little Cotton and me.

Whose cabin is that?

It don't make no difference
if you want to eat.

Besides, it might be Guthrie.

He's the only I know
with a place in these parts.

Now, keep it quiet.

Well, will you lookie here!

Yeah.

Get her! Get her!

Come, Gates!
Get her! Get her!

Go get her, Gates!
Hold on to her!

Get her!

Get her, Gates!

Get her, Gates!

Whoa, watch it, Gates!

Whoo! Get her, Gates!

Get her! Get her!

Get her, Gates!

Don't let her get that gun!
Grab her!

Don't let her get that gun!
Get her, Gates!

Ah, get her, Gates!

Whoo!

Yeah?

Oh, you a wild one, ain't ya?

Yeah, now, what are you?
Huh, Flathead?

Little Blackfeet?
Crow, maybe?

Oh, I think Blackfeet, huh.

Yeah.
You know how to cook, do you?

Yeah, well, why don't you just
fix us up a little meal,

'cause, uh, I like to eat first.

Yeah.

Now, let's see.

I've eaten, smoked.

Now, what ain't I done?

Scoby?

Scoby!

How come you had to do that?

What ain't I done, Scoby?

You ain't had no lovin'.

That's right, ain't it, Gates?
That's right, ain't it?

That's right.

I knew I had overlooked something.

Guthrie ain't gonna be back.

If he ain't back before now,
he won't be back.

It's just you, me, and her.

Ain't it, Gates?

No!

Whoo-hoo-hoo!

Get that loaded.

All right, let's move it, jughead!

Move. Here, boy.

Move, move.

Here, boy.

You didn't have to kill her.

I said, let's go.

Cotton, stop it!
Please, stop it! Stop it!

Cotton!

Cotton, stop!

Honey, please, stop it, stop it!

I ain't scared of you.

If my hands weren't tied, I'd...

Untie my hands!

Arkansas!

Hold 'em there!

I kind of thought you'd be there.

Guthrie still comes.

- How many?
- He is with five.

Two others follow.
One day behind.

We will fight.

Guthrie is wise man.

He will not bring white man
on our land.

Guthrie, he thinks like a Blackfeet.

He is still a white man.

He will follow.

Should man fight his brother?

I do not listen to myself.

I listen to Winterhawk.

Take two.

Stop Guthrie.

And if Guthrie dies?

Then, it is the way it must be.

I ain't never seen anything
like this before.

No, no, me neither.

Maybe it's a trap.

Gotta be.

We had become
so burned by the wind and sun,

it was hard to tell Cotton and me
from the Indians.

Weeks of hard travel
had left us bone weary.

How I was frightened and worried

that Uncle Will or some of the men
might be injured or killed,

because it had been several days

since Winterhawk had sent
his braves to stop them.

Suddenly, there was
one of the braves

coming down the river.

I have lost two brothers.

- Guthrie?
- He has lost one.

- Help me!
- Sis, come back!

- Somebody, please!
- Sis!

There is no way
to describe how I felt

when I watched him
cut little Cotton 's hands free.

But time kept passing,
and now it was November,

in the moon of the freezing rivers,

and we kept moving deeper
into the wilderness of Canada.

Great flights of geese
often darkened the sky

as they flew southward.

And the chill winds that moaned
through the trees at sunset

warned us of a cold winter coming.

I was determined to try once more

to persuade Winterhawk
to let us go.

I want to talk with him.

If he will let my brother and me go,

he will be rewarded.

If Winterhawk does not free us,

more white men will follow him.

He must understand.

There are many more white men
than Blackfeet.

As Chief, he must not allow
two white men's mistakes

to bring such suffering
to his people.

Winterhawk must be greater
than his enemies.

He must forgive them.

Send us home.

He says you speak well
for a white woman,

but he does not believe
in your words,

as the white man has strangled
the Indian with words.

Well, I'll tell you,

there ain't nothing to equal
a full stomach.

Wouldn't you say so, Finley?

- Nothing's happening out there.
- Good.

Finley, you enjoy this
while you can.

You trying to tell me something?

Which way we heading?

North.

Well, I'll be.
Now, that's a good guess.

Hey, we're heading north,
we're following Winterhawk,

and his people are migrating south
after their food supply.

It's coming on the end of fall,
it'll soon be winter.

That means less food
and a hell of a lot of snow and cold.

Could be spring
before we overtake Winterhawk.

Hey, now,
there's another good guess.

Unless Winterhawk decides
to turn around and overtake us.

He already lost two braves,
maybe even a third.

So, from now on,
anything that moves

is more than likely a Blackfeet.

Let's get some shut eye.

Oh, Little Smith.

Would you mind sleeping
down wind?

Why?

Why?! Well, because,

I have smelled this damn thing
you got around your neck

about all I intend to smell it,
that's why.

Well, Mr. Guthrie,

you might do well by yourself
if you was to wear one.

This here's my life bag.

And it's kept me alive
in these mountains all these years.

Little Smith,
would you mind telling us

just what in the world
you've got in that thing?

Well, I couldn't do that.

Well, you see, it's kind of...
it's kind of personal.

All you gonna know is
I ain't gonna take it off.

And I'm gonna keep
right on living and surviving

in these here mountains.

Well, you sleep down wind
so we can survive the night.

Whoo!

Wow! Oh, oh!

Ahh!

Hey, you see what I see?

There's a man what calls himself
taking a bath.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Whoo!

Hi.

What you doing?

I just finished my bath,
and I'm gonna dry off

and go finish my breakfast
and take a nap.

You know something, Little Smith?

You just flat out stink.

Surely, you ain't talking about me.
I just finished my bath.

Now!

Can you see?

You haven't been clean in 30 years!

Well, he's clean now!

Rude!

The bag!

Rude!

The bag, Rude!

Bring the bag!

Mr. Finley...

You want to say something?

I don't know what to say.

Your springs shall be less green.

Your winters more severe.

Your enemy shall grow strong.

For a great strength
has gone out.

He was a...

hell of a mountain man, sir.

We had learned
that the warrior believes

that the plains are afloat
in mysterious space

and that the winds
blow straight from heaven.

This boundless land
inspires visions and dreams.

Enwrapped in a cloak of mystery
as he retreated into his thoughts.

They watched, fascinated.

But a little fearful of what action
would follow his meditations.

The persistence of Elkhorn Guthrie,

who we now knew led Uncle Will
and the mountain men,

was obviously giving him
grave concern.

He seemed to be staring
across the mists of time,

listening to whispered voices
writing on the long winds

that stirred the thousands of
miles of grasslands

with the changing seasons.

Hey!

- Hey!
- What?!

A couple more days,
and we'll be in snow country, huh?

Sure looks that way.

And we can sell these furs,
find us a place,

and hold up for the winter.

In Blackfoot country?

Why not?
It's on the other side.

- The other side's Canada, ain't it?
- Yeah.

You're in trouble there, ain't ya?

Yeah, but, uh, I'm gonna forgive them
if they'll forgive me.

Ya!

Howdy.

Been after that boy all summer
to fix that.

Yeah.

Fine quality.

The best.

Where'd you get 'em?

I didn't.

He did.

Where'd you get 'em?

He can't talk, he's a deaf mute.

I don't suppose he can write either?

No.

They all say I pay top dollar
in this country.

That's why we're here.

Pass is still open up north?

Bridges had some snow.

Johnson's still clear.

Crossing into Canada?

Well, I don't know.

I'm with him,
and he ain't told me yet.

Let's do business.

We ain't heading north.

That's right,
we're going to McClusky's.

Come on, Mr. Finley!

Come on, go! Go ahead!

Ah, McClusky.
It has been a long time.

Been expecting you all day.

Expecting me? How's that?

When I buy a bunch of furs
with your wife's mark on it,

I reckon you're not far behind.

My wife's marker...

What the hell are you talking about?

Two white men.
Come in early this morning.

Not only had them furs,
but this pack and a pinto.

And I swear it looked
like a twin to Pale Flower's.

One of 'em is short.

One of 'em be kind of tall.

One of 'em didn't have much to say.

Guthrie.

One of them was meaner than hell.

Which way?

I told them Johnson's Pass
was clear.

I watched them pull out for you,
Guthrie.

That's where they was headin'.

Where's he headed?

Johnson's Pass.

Johnson...
We just got here.

McClusky, my name's Will Finley.

I'm looking for a band of Blackfeet
led by one they call Winterhawk.

They took my niece and my nephew.

Have you seen or heard of 'em
in these parts?

Heard of 'em.

But I ain't see 'em.

Very few white men have.

What are you trying to do, Guthrie?
Kill us and the horses?

- I'll start a fire.
- No fires.

- It's freezing.
- Fires can be seen.

You wait here.

Try to put it in the cup
and not on me this time.

You reckon we got a good price
on those hides?

Yeah, just think we got enough
for that pinto.

Yeah.

Easy.

Elkhorn Guthrie?

That's right.

I seen your fire.

I thought I might join you.

I could sure use
a cup of that coffee.

Well, you must be part Indian,
sneaking in on us like that.

Oh, thank you.

Hey, Gates who's your friend?

Scoby.

Scoby Glass.

I got separated from my party.

I've been tracking
a couple of thieves.

You two, you're pretty far north.

What you doing?

Oh...

Just kind of minding our business.

Huh, meaning I ain't?

Oh, no, don't mean anything.

Unless your business
is my business.

God, please, please!

He did it!
He did, I swear to God!

- I swear to God, he did it!
- Did what?

I don't know what he did.
I didn't see him.

I didn't touch her.
I didn't even look at her.

I swear on my mother's grave!

You never had a mother.

You, pick him up.

I said, pick him up.

What are you going to do with me?

I don't know.

But it'll be something special.

That Guthrie's crazy!

We're getting so far back
in these mountains,

if we don't starve to death,
we'll freeze!

Well, I don't even have a fat squaw
to keep me warm.

Well, even those Indians
are better off than us.

I hear they've got
a good-looking woman with 'em.

Don't you talk about my niece
that way, you scoundrel!

Let me take care of this for you,
Mr. Finley.

Ow, God!

He smarts off at you one more time,
you'll be preaching at his funeral.

- Sis!
- Cotton!

Help him!

My pony gonna be all right?

Your pony be fine.

Snow make pain go away.

Your pony strong.

Winterhawk?

You got a wife?

Winterhawk have no woman.

Died many seasons ago.

Winterhawk say, tell you,
with hair like snow.

He once had son
who was fast like the wind

and curious like you.

He, like his mother,
died of white man's disease.

Winterhawk...

I'm sorry.

Hey, I'm glad you're back.

Just in time for evening prayers.

Dear Lord, we thank Thee
for Thy bounties

and for seeing us through
another day without harm.

We ask Thee to be merciful,
for those...

Sis?

He ain't married.

Cotton Finley.

Now, you be quiet
and finish your prayers.

Dear Lord,

we ask You to watch over us,

deliver us from evil,

and return us safely home.

Amen.

Now, come on.

Go to sleep.

How did you know?

Hm?

How did you know
he wasn't married?

I told you, he was my friend.

So, I asked him for it.

Young man, from now on,
I'll do my own asking.

Good night.

This was a bitter
and endless cold.

The icy winds cut like a knife

and the creeping numbness
of our bodies

made going on almost unbearable.

For the life of me,

I don 't see how little Cotton
kept going.

We were lost in a white world.

And I watched horses struggle
through the deep snow,

gasping for breath in the thin air.

Hunger hovered over us
like a dark vulture.

And I wondered when -
when will it all end?

What do you suppose happened
to Big Rude?

Been away a long time now.

Never known him to get lost before.

He knows the country,
he'll be along.

What I'd like to know
is why you doing this.

Well, Gates is my friend!

- Well, I got a right to know!
- You got no rights at all.

Well, you could've given him
a decent burial.

I give him nothing!

Better keep moving, Guthrie.

You look tired, my son.

Guthrie follows.

Guthrie?

Well, I don't understand.
He is your brother.

The white man not trade.

Take furs.

We have no medicine.

Now, Guthrie leads them against us.

Guthrie, he follows
because of woman and boy.

People are dying.

They have white man's sickness.

They need your strength, my son.

Do not bring more trouble.

I not give back boy and woman.

Well, what you do with them?

Trade, for medicine.

Now, they are my strength.

This will not save face.

It will only lead to more killing.

It is not my wish.

You have said many times,

it is better for man to die in battle

than die of old age or sickness.

When I was young like you, my son,
I said many things.

Now that I am old,

I have many scars to show
for my quick words.

Rest, my son.
We will talk later.

Don't move, old man,
or I'll cut your throat!

Now, I got something to trade.

Come on, old man.
Come on!

Keep walking.
Come on.

Straighten up.

Winterhawk!

I got something you want.

You got something that I want.

Stand up, old man!

Stand up!

Old man! Stand up!

God!

They're burning him alive!

Guthrie, that Indian wants us
to turn back.

We better do it, Guthrie,
before they burn him any more.

You get Little Smith's long rifle,
and you try a shot at him.

I'll never reach.

You get it, man! You fill
that long rifle full of powder!

You try! At least try, man!

You can do what you want to me,

but you bother Miss Clayanna
and that little boy,

I'll come out of here and get you!

You gone loco?
How come you just sit there?

Don't you see
those Indians out there?

The children!
I see the children!

Thank God they're alive!

- Scoby, you come with me.
- Me?

Why me?
I ain't no good at talkin'.

Mr. Finley's a talker.
Take him.

You pick up that pack horse,
you bring your friend with you.

I'm coming, I'm coming!

Cotton! Come back!

Please, come back!

Winterhawk!

Winterhawk,
Chief of the Blackfeet,

not speak to the white dog
who was once his brother,

but who betrayed him.

I have not betrayed him.

I bring him the two men
who cheated him.

Guthrie, you ain't human!

No white man would turn over
one of his own kind to...

a bunch of savages!

Boy and woman, for medicine.

No medicine, no trade.

Well, I ain't leaving without 'em!

Then, we fight.

Stop! No! No!

Cotton!

No!

- Winterhawk!
- Go back!

Cotton! Cotton! No!

- Oh!
- Winterhawk!

- Cotton!
- Winterhawk!

Cotton! Cotton! Cotton!

Cotton!

Oh, God, Cotton!
Oh, God!

Oh, Cotton!

Get out of my way!

Easy.

- You're gonna be all right.
- Cotton!

Bye, Winterhawk.

You want him?

My warriors will not honor him
with death.

I don't want him neither.

Scoby, hand me the range
on that pack horse.

Come on.

Well, now you're throwing him off.
Get him off.

- Give me your coat.
- What?

I said, give me your coat!

Sis! Come on, sis!

Hurry up!

Sis!

Sis, come on!

Mr. Finley!

Winterhawk!

Come back, we'll talk!

I can get you
white man's guns, reins.

I'll get you whiskey!

Guthrie!

You can't leave me out here
just to die!

Winterhawk!

Come back, we'll talk!

Suddenly,
I realized what I had to do.

That it was my life,

and only I could choose the path
I would travel.

I knew Cotton would be all right.

I was not to see my brother again
for many years,

until he was grown
with a family of his own.

I and Winterhawk melted
into the forest in the mountains.

And the howl of the coyote
echoing in the moonlit canyons

became our music.

And the wail of the wind
and the cry of the winter hawk,

our song.