All language subtitles for Tales of Wells Fargo-S4E8 -Tom Horn

Hyah! Come on!

Sometimes a man has
to lie to save his own neck,

and sometimes to
save somebody else's.

Well, I had to lie once to
save another man's life,

and I don't know to this day

whether I did right or wrong.

It was on the Tucson run

between Membrey Springs
and Cow Creek Station.

We were a day and
a half late already

and in no need to further delay.

But on a stage run
in Arizona Territory,

trouble is always as close
as the next bend in the road.

I'll only be a minute.

JIM: It was trouble,
all right. The worst kind.

The only question was,

was it my trouble or
just the other fellow's?

And I had to find out.

What's he done to earn this?

Take a look for yourself.

That's a single iron, mister.

It fits under his saddle.

Satisfied?

No. You can't hang a
man for changin' a brand.

Not these days.

I can, mister.

I'm J.K. Russell,
Managing Foreman,

Hash Knife Land
and Cattle Company.

Now, how about you?

Well, I'll tell you about me.

I'm against hangin' a man for
any reason without a fair trial.

You know him?

The kid was caught on my land.

We didn't wait on no
formal introductions.

Well, I know him,
and I want him.

What's more, I'm gonna take him.

And who might you be?

Name's Hardie. Jim Hardie.

Special Investigator
for Wells Fargo.

This man held up one of
our stages two summers ago.

I've looked for him a long time.

We're tired of chasin' him.

So?

So I'm takin' him into Tucson

where he's gonna stand trial.

You know range law. You know
you have no call to mix in here.

We have the kid dead to rights.

I know range law, all right.

And I know regular law, too.

I'm turnin' this man over
to Sheriff Bates in Tucson.

Now, if you want to press
cow-stealin' charges against him,

that's where he'll be.

You! Get him down from there.

Tie that horse to the stage.

You better have
him in the Tucson jail

when we come
after him, Mr. Hardie.

He'll be there, safe and sound.

It's a long ways yet.

With him, you may never make it.

See you in Tucson, Mr. Russell.

He'll still hang.

Range law or regular,
he'll end on a rope.

Remember that!

Giddy-up.

Hyah. Giddup.

JIM: We had to lay over
that night at cow Creek

to reset a wheel.

I was still watchin' the boy,
not able to get out of my mind

the Hash Knife foreman's
warning about him.

There was something
else about him

sticking in my mind, too.

I kept thinking that I ought
to know him from someplace,

that I'd seen him or his
face somewhere before.

After supper, I asked
him if he wouldn't

like to stretch his legs
before we turned in.

He said he would be mighty
obliged for the opportunity.

And that's when he paid
me back for savin' his life.

Hardie? You trust me long
enough for one good stretch?

I give you my word.

All right, boy. I'll
take you at your word.

Ahh.

Oh, that's wonderful.

Thanks.

Sorry, Hardie,

but I only gave you
my word for one stretch.

Now, move steady and quiet.

I don't wanna have to shoot you.

Stand up.

Throw me your gun.

I'm beholden to you
for your trouble, Hardie,

and I won't forget it.

But for your information,
I didn't steal no cow.

Cause if I'm ever
gonna steal something,

it's gonna be a whole
lot more than a cow.

Whether you stole a cow or not,

doesn't change the
fact that I gave my word

to deliver you to
the Tucson jail.

You tried, but
you didn't make it.

I'll make it, one
way or another.

Maybe. Some other time.

I didn't catch your name.

I didn't throw it.

However, in case
you want to send me

a picture postcard
of that Tucson jail,

just mail it to General
Delivery, Arizona Territory,

in care of Tom Horn.

JIM: Tom Horn...

one of the most fantastic
men the West ever knew.

He didn't look a
day over 18 years old

and already had a reputation

for cold nerve and
audacity next to no one.

I'd rather have gone
blindfolded into a gopher hole

after a diamondback sidewinder

than to set out
after that fellow.

But I had told a deliberate
lie to save his life,

and I had used Wells
Fargo's name in the bargain.

It was a bad bargain,

and it was up to me,
to make good on it,

all the way.

Tom Horn headed
straight into Apache land,

a bad place anytime, and
especially bad just then.

Broken Hand, called
Manarotto by the Apaches,

and by any name,
the poorest friend

the white man
ever had in Arizona.

He and his Mimbreno band

were feuding with the
United States Army again,

and the old chief
had let it be known

that any soldier or civilian
caught in his country

would be given a real welcome.

In Apache talk,

that meant that they would
entertain a man all night,

then... Well, you
could put it this way.

That man's first sunrise
with Broken Hand

and his Mimbreno wolf
pack would be his last.

Tom Horn was down
there somewhere,

and that left me no choice.

In my business, a
man's got to be ready

to live by his
word or die by it.

Hyah!

Whoa!

You're a little
bit late, mister.

So were we. I can see that.

Apaches? Apaches.

JIM: Were their
mother and father killed?

They were, both of them.

What Apaches were they?

Bronco Mimbrenos.

They left that little sign.

Broken Hand's bunch.

Broken Hand?

You know him?

Somewhat.

Then you know well
enough to turn right around

and follow us back to the fort.

That depends.

I'm looking for a man
ridin' sorrel horse,

wearing a dark outfit
with a beaded hatband.

You seen him?

We might have seen him. Why?

He's a wanted man.

You a bounty hunter?

No. Special Investigator
for Wells Fargo.

We seen your man, all right,

not more than 20
minutes down the road.

I don't know what he's done,

but I hope you never catch him.

Why do you say that?

He's the one who saved the
youngsters in the wagon there.

He rode right into
the Apache ambush,

made his way to the
house, and held 'em off

until we got there.

Then he lit out pert near
as fast as the Indians

once he seen us.

Which way did he head?

A way I'd advise you
not to go, Wells Fargo.

Right smack dab in the
tracks of those Apaches.

Thank you, Sergeant.

You know me?

You white man, you know me?

Yes, I know you.

Broken Hand, Manarotto
of the Mimbreno.

Yes... me Broken Hand.

You know how me get sick hand?

White man.

White man own store.

Him say me steal.

I say I no steal.

Apache chief no
steal from white man.

White man say I lie.

He take knife.

He cut arm deep many time.

He say go.

You steal no more.

White man wrong.

I come back. I
take both his hand!

Soldier find him that way.

Soldier chief say,
"Death to Broken Hand."

Broken Hand say,
"Kill soldier chief!"

So... long time war now.

Apache people have no peace

till last soldier gone.

Last soldier no gone
till last white man gone.

So kill all white man!

Does that mean
you're gonna kill me?

I can no help you.

Apache law.

You brave man,
good heart, strong eye.

Mimbreno law say you die.

When?

When sun come back.

First light in day.

How?

I no cut you. You brave man.

You not afraid.

You die quick with many bullets

like soldiers do
Apache warriors.

Hyah!

Uh, you figure we lost them yet?

I don't know.

We haven't seen a sign
of them this morning.

If I didn't know 'em better, I'd
say they quit and went home.

Yeah. We both know they never
quit, and they ain't got a home.

Ah, but there's always
first time for everything.

And a last. Lets
get out of here.

TOM: Hold on!

Hyah.

Thanks.

Double or nothin'.

Take my horse. Try to
make it back to the fort.

I'll hold 'em off
till you get back.

Well, hurry up, boy!
One hero is enough!

Like you said,
double or nothin'.

Well, I think we lost 'em, boy.

Now I can thank
you for saving my life.

Unfortunately, it can't
change what I've got to do.

I'm still gonna take
you to jail in Tucson.

Oh, that.

I understand.

A man's gotta stand by his word.

That's right.

Now I'm gonna ask you
to give me your word again

that you're not gonna try
anything if I take you back.

Well how about
it? I got your word?

All right, you got my word.

And this time you can
count on me all the way,

I swear it.

Good.

Give me your gun.

Won't be needing this, either.

Let's go.

Sheriff, I'm Jim Hardie
from Wells Fargo.

I thought you was.

Sure pleased to meet you.

Thank you. This is Tom Horn.

I brought him in on a complaint

of the Hash Knife outfit,
a cow-stealin' charge.

Tom Horn.

I've heard enough
about him, too.

Well, he deserves a break.

He saved my life when he
had a chance to get away

and save his own.

He promised me he'd
come in without any trouble,

and he did it.

I hope you'll remember
that when his trial comes up.

Don't worry, Jim.
He'll get a fair trial.

Thank you.

Well, so long, Tom.
Good luck to you.

Don't you believe in
saying goodbye, boy?

Oh, I will, when the time comes.

Come on, boy.

Hardie, better
throw me your gun.

Now, boy, you made me a promise.

I sure did, and I kept it, too.

But I didn't make no
promise to that sheriff in there.

Throw me your gun.

You made a promise to
bring me in, and you did.

But you didn't make no promise

to sit with me till they
got here, now, did you?

No. No, I didn't.

Well, if you don't
have any objections,

I'm gonna be movin' on.

I can't very well object

when you've got two
guns, and I haven't got any.

However,

I said somethin' a
while ago I meant, boy.

Good luck to you.

Thanks.

The same to you.

JIM: They can say what
they want about Tom Horn,

and it's true, he did wind
up on the end of the rope.

But that was twenty
years later, and for my part,

I'll always think
of Tom Horn as a...

as a fellow with a
grin bright enough

to make you feel
warm on a cold day,

and more pure nerve
than a train robber

with a toy pistol.

I don't know for
sure to this day

whether I did right or wrong

to save his life that time.

But I'll tell you one thing,

I got a pretty good idea.