Original subtitles

Hyah! Hyah!

That make it official, Marshal?

Official enough, I guess.

Fine.

Last job I had was good for 20 years.

I figure this one will do me till they, uh,

measure me for one of those.

They're empty, aren't they?

Oh, yeah. Yeah, they are now,

but they never stay that way long.

Tom Flighty. Who?

Tom Flighty. He's the local mortician.

Well, Tom gets sort of embarrassed when he runs short of the necessary thing.

We used to call that attempted murder in the last place I worked.

So, get on your feet. Who, me?

That's right, mister.

Get on your feet.

It's a short walk to the jail.

Get on your feet.

You'll be eating that tin badge on your chest before my family

gets through with you, Marshal.

You're new here, Marshal. So, let me tell you somethin' for your own good.

You just don't put no Fergusons in jail here.

Not Joby or any of his brothers.

They'll have me out of that tin can of yours before tonight.

As I was sayin', it's a short walk to the jail.

Look, Marshal,

speakin' for myself I can tell you it ain't good for business

to have the kind of trouble in town that you're askin' for.

Now anybody with half a brain could tell that you couldn't put

one Ferguson in jail and get away with it.

Even if he did take a shot at the Indian.

I see.

Just happens that the Lord never whispered in my ear

that one kind of human life is worth more than another.

Move.

Well?

No sign of anyone yet.

So, Murphy talked you into it, huh?

Gave you a badge and a rifle,

and the right to be remembered as a hero.

Nobody talked me into anything.

I closed up the office,

and came over here because I thought I might find one or two of you

with enough self-respect

to help us stand against the Fergusons.

Any other reasons, George?

Could be.

Maybe I don't wanna see Murphy murdered by the Fergusons

while the rest of us sit around on our hands.

Well now, if Murphy had the brains of a housebroke cat,

he wouldn't have to get himself killed.

All he'd do is let Joby Ferguson out of jail,

just like any other Marshal we ever had around town would do.

You know Joby picked on the Indian.

He started the fight.

When it began to go against him, he went for his gun.

I'm not arguing that.

All I'm sayin' is that Marshal Murphy pinning a badge on you

isn't gonna change anything.

I was here long before you or Wells Fargo.

Fergusons made the law around here then and they're gonna keep right on makin' it,

as long as they own half the cattle in these parts in this whole town,

including the building we're standin' in.

Another drink? No, thanks.

I guess the kind of help I need right now

doesn't come in bottles.

HARDIE: I'm Jim Hardie, special investigator for Wells Fargo.

I always figured that when I got to paradise,

if and when that is,

there's be a choir of angels singing congratulations.

I guess it couldn't have been Paradise, California. That the Good Book had in mind.

It was only midday and yet the

town was closin' down like the jaws of a giant clam,

the Wells Fargo office included.

I'd never met George Guinness, our local agent in charge.

In fact, my destination was another town,

a good 20 miles from here.

Howdy.

What's going' on around here?

You fellas expectin' an earthquake?

Yeah, you could call it that.

Earthquake might not be a bad name for it.

Any idea where I might find the Wells Fargo agent?

George, George Guinness? That's right.

You might try the Heavenly Rest Salon.

The only place you'll find open this afternoon.

Thank you.

Alec.

Benson.

What happened to my brother? To Joby?

I'm not talkin' about a side of beef, Benson,

and you know it.

Your store is right next to the jail and you got a pair of eyes.

I wanna know if they still got Joby locked up in there.

Well, I uh... I think so, Alec.

I've seen them going in with Murphy but I didn't see them come out.

And the Indian?

Well, I... I don't know about the Indian.

They... they both went in with Murphy, and neither one of them come out.

Uh... you do better askin' him.

Wells Fargo man.

Ain't you a little too grown up to be playin' games?

I haven't heard about any games.

But you're one of Murphy's deputies.

As far as I can see, I'm the only one.

Why?

I asked for it.

Mr. Guinness,

I'm gonna tell you somethin'.

My brothers are just a couple of minutes behind me,

Dan and Amos and Luke and Tom,

besides any other men that Dan decides to bring.

Now we're gonna hang that Indian who raised hands against Joby,

and we're gonna pull that jail down brick by brick.

Unless Murphy turns Joby loose within an hour.

Only one another thing I have to say to you,

we don't like to kill a Wells Fargo man if we can help it.

My advice to you is to take off that badge

and drop it on the floor.

Keep in mind,

we own every inch of ground that this town's built on.

Mr. Guinness...

we don't expect the situation to change.

I said take off that badge.

You and your brothers may own this town, Alec...

but you don't own any part of me.

Well, I guess that take cares of Wells Fargo.

Not quite.

And just who you happen to be, mister?

The name's Jim Hardie. I'm with Wells Fargo too.

I heard about you, Mr. Hardie.

I bet you have.

And I've heard about you, Mr. Ferguson and your brothers.

I never saw Guinness till today

but I wouldn't trade the blood off his lips,

for you and your brothers, and your ranches,

and all the cattle that you managed to steal in the last ten years.

You got anythin' more to say, Mr. Hardie?

Yes.

If that Murphy they're talkin' about

is the same little jackrabbit of the man I knew down in Arizona,

you can bet your boots he's not gonna be standin' alone.

As far as your skill with your fists goes,

I suggest you put your gun on the bar alongside mine,

and we'll see just how skillful you are.

Thanks, Mr. Hardie,

for the invitation and the opportunity.

Get up, you pig.

From what I seen and what I heard,

we ain't won a fight today.

Luke, Amos,

Pick 'em up.

You.

Come here.

JOBY: Let me out of here, you clown.

I'll break in you half with my bare hands.

You mean your big mouth, don't you, Joby?

That's the only real weapon you've got.

You say Dan Ferguson slugged him with a gun butt.

GUINNESS: That's right.

MARSHA: This boy's got a head like an anvil.

Yeah, I think he's gonna be all right.

Jim?

Hello, Murph. Hello, Jim.

Take it easy.

How did I get in here?

As a matter of fact, how did we get over here?

The Fergusons.

They delivered you like two sacks of grain

and dumped you at the door.

They hitched the two of you to a team of horses

and dragged you from the salon to here.

He sounds like a nice fellow.

When that team dragged you over here,

this note was pinned real neat to the seat of your pants.

Dan Ferguson wrote the note.

Dan Ferguson is the educated member of the family,

reads and writes real good.

"To Mr. F.X. Murphy, U.S. Marshal,

"it is my intention to hang the Indian

"whose part you took against my brother today.

"Beyond this, you have until two o'clock

"to release my brother from your jail.

"If you fail to do this,

"we will take care of the matter ourselves.

Very truly yours, Daniel J. Ferguson."

That's how it is, Jim.

I've heard of Dan Ferguson.

Couldn't live within a 100 miles from here

without feeling the pressure of his power.

About three-quarters of the freight we handle,

we ship out to the Ferguson ranch.

Dan is a king.

Meatheads like his brother here

supply the muscle to keep him in power.

The situation's very simple, Mr. Hardie.

What the Fergusons can't buy,

they beat to death.

What about the people in this town here?

Good ones don't last very long.

Only the sheep manage to survive.

People like Benson, who runs a general store,

and Healey, who operates the salon.

Oh, they're not bad fellows,

but they just sold out for the sakes of their skins.

They pay their rent on time, they keep their mouths shut,

and they wag their tails in obedience

every time a Ferguson goes by.

Only law this town's ever seen is Mr. F.X. Murphy here.

That's the state of affairs in Paradise, California.

Paradise...

I sure picked a fine spot for my old age, eh, Jim?

Sounds like it.

And what about the Indian boy?

Oh, I let him go, of course.

I can only pray that the boy had a good head start.

He was walloping the daylights out of Joby in front of him.

DAN: Murphy!

You got exactly five minutes.

I'd say Mr. Ferguson's watch is one minute slow.

Got any more guns, Murphy?

The best I've got is two .45s in that drawer there.

Nuh-uh. Uh-uh.

But they're not for your or George.

I said

they ain't for you and they ain't for George.

Fergusons are my job, mine alone.

Now, back up, both of ya.

There's a cell behind you, nice and cozy and comfortable just like Joby's there,

and out of the line of fire.

Have you lost your mind? That's possible, Jim.

Fact, when a man gets my age, he's apt to be sentimental too.

The fact is, I don't see no sense or profit in gettin' you two killed.

Don't be ridiculous, Murph.

You can't hope to handle all of 'em alone.

Can't I, really?

Now that's a funny thing, Jim.

Ain't nobody South, an old fool like myself

especially when you're the Marshal of the town.

He's entitled to die alone.

All right, get up on the roof.

How much time the old man got left, Dan?

He's got a minute and a half.

He'll get exactly that and not a second more.

Murphy, you can't be serious.

I said get in the cell.

Mr. Murphy.

Huh... Jim! INDIAN: Mr. Murphy.

It's the Indian boy.

I thought I told you to get out of town.

Here.

This is no time for me or your friends to hide.

Looks like we're in business after all, Murph.

You think Murphy will fight?

He'll fight.

But why?

I mean, he hasn't got a chance.

Why would a sane man decide to get himself killed?

Maybe the reason is cause everybody ain't like us.

Maybe the reason is,

when we all go home tonight we're...

gonna feel so small.

All right, boys.

Now!

The Indian!

Now!

They got Tom and Amos! I know.

Dan, did you hear me?

They go Tom and Amos. They picked 'em off like crows.

Get up there on the roof and replace 'em, you and Cassidy.

Dan, I'm... I'm a big man.

I'm heavy-footed. I don't work... Shut up!

Two of your brothers are dead.

Cassidy! Yeah.

Get up on the roof with Alec.

Leech, Luke and I will cover you from here.

I don't like it, Dan.

I'm not askin' you to like it.

There's Luke there. Why don't you send Luke?

Luke!

Yeah, Dan?

I want you to get around the side of that jail, one way or another.

Get going!

Now, Cassidy,

you get up on the roof with Alec.

You hear me!

What's the answer gonna be? Yes or no?

Murphy's got that Jim Hardie in there,

a man that can shoot the warts off a toad like everybody tells me.

You gotta understand, Dan.

A fellow like myself...

there's my wife home, Dan.

I guess the answer's gotta be no.

Well, you said it was gonna be easy enough...

Leech, get up on the roof with Alec.

You think he's dead? I don't know.

You got anythin' we can use for bandages?

We'll keep 'em busy.

Give me your pistol.

Careful, Jim.

It's all right.

You lie still. I'll be back.

Benson,

take that rifle and get up on the roof.

This isn't in my line, Dan. I-I've never killed anyone.

I said take the rifle!

They killed four of my brothers.

Ted, you get up there on the roof with him.

Fire at anythin' that moves and don't you forget, either one of you,

I still own this town

and I can still move you out like a cattle from a pen.

Drop the rifle, Ferguson.

Turn around.

You get up on that roof, Benson, and do as you're told.

You too!

For a long time, Dan, you've had everyone scared in this town,

me included.

And I still am, even now,

but I see no difference in dyin' up on the roof than dyin' in here.

This way at least I can die looking like a man.

You draw, Dan, and there's two of us.

One of us will get you.

Hardie! Don't shoot!

Dan's in here and he's coming out.

For a long time, Dan, everybody's been scared of you

because you always had an advantage.

Now I'd like to see what you do when you don't have an advantage.

Turn around.

Now.

Let's see you back Hardie down. Move.

BENSON: It's your move, Dan.

Get your hands up, Ferguson, and don't touch that gun.

Lettin' little old man do your work for you now, Hardie?

It's his job, not mine.

You wouldn't have got from the porch to where you are now

if Wells Fargo had been involved.

I'll tell you for the last time, Ferguson.

Put up your hands. For what?

I'm gonna lock you up alongside your brother,

till some court decides to hang you

or let you spend the rest of your life in jail.

I'll run you out of the territory first.

I can kill you, Ferguson for resisting arrest

and be completely within my rights.

What's the matter, Marshal?

Didn't you have the guts to kill me?

Like I told you,

I'd like to see you hang or rot in jail.

Benson, get the doctor.

Ted, take him over to the jail.

HARDIE: Well, that was Paradise, all right, but in name only.

Seems to me that I can come across more trouble accidentally

than most folks can on purpose.

Well, anyway, it's past now, and I managed to live through it.

So did the young Indian boy, Joe Flower, and George Guinness.

But not Dan Ferguson.

He and his brother were convicted on ten other counts of murder,

and duly hung.

When they hung Dan and Joby Ferguson,

only one man was there, a little fellar named Murphy.