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WEBVTT
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♪♪
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♪♪
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Official newspaper files of the early West record many stories of famous and notorious characters of that period.
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Among them, Quantrell's Raiders, a phrase that struck terror to the hearts of Kansas and Missouri families during the Civil War years of 1860 to 1865.
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It meant Quantrell, a polished but depraved ex-school teacher who led his bloodthirsty horde through five reckless, ferocious years of murder and pillage.
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♪♪
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Union troopers.
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Thanks for the bed and board, Mr. Wilson.
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It's a pleasure meeting a Union sympathizer in Missouri.
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It's a pleasure to serve you, sir.
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Have you seen Quantrell or any of his cutthroat guerrillas? Tell him he better watch out. General Lane's boys are on his tail.
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Good day, sir.
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Back up, Yankees.
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Bushwackers.
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Your dirty secessionist, you informed on us.
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Would you mind telling us who we have the pleasure of meeting?
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Not at all. Charles Quantrell.
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What's the matter? Did that name scare you?
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We've heard things.
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As prisoners, we're entitled to certain rights.
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You wouldn't, sir.
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We're surrendering peacefully. We...
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Gunshot.
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Wilson.
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Yes, sir.
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Get them out of here.
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Are you sure you'll get their boots and their guns?
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They won't need them anymore.
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And, uh, Wilson, we're taking over your ranch's headquarters.
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You can have it and welcome, sir.
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Anything that will help beat them. No good lowdown, no count Yankees.
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We'll pitch our headquarters tent over there. Move the rest of the troops up immediately.
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Yes, sir.
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Found this one spying on us from the woods, Captain.
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Get down.
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Who are you? What are you doing around here? Come on, tell me the truth.
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All right, sir. I'm Mrs. John Clements. I'm trying to find my husband.
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Yankees burned our home last week and I got nowhere to go.
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I've got to find him. I've just got to find him.
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Why are you dressed like a boy?
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I... I thought I'd be safer.
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Among the Federals, yes.
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I'm a woman. I'm a woman.
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I... I thought I'd be safer.
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Among the Federals, yes. You're in Southern country, ma'am.
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Where a gentlewoman is always safe.
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You're free to go. My compliments.
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Thank you, Captain.
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Do you believe it, Captain? No.
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Why turn her loose? What would you have done, Todd?
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Well, I would have... Listen, we don't take prisoners. We don't war on women.
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What else is there to do?
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I'm Matt Clark, railroad detective.
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Now serving with the Union Army as a spy.
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Division headquarters had sent me down here because as a railroad man, I knew the country.
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I was told to report to Colonel Marsham in charge of intelligence for the border command for further instructions.
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He wasn't in when I arrived, but I didn't have long to wait.
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Matt Clark? That's right, sir.
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Colonel Marsham. Sit down. Thank you.
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You know why you're here? In general, sir, not specifically.
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We want some information concerning Quantrell, the guerrilla leader.
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You've heard of him, I imagine.
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There isn't a man in the West who hasn't, sir.
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He's a border butcher who never takes prisoners.
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That's your man. If you care to change your mind, of course, there's still time.
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I didn't expect a better roses, Colonel. Of course, there's a few questions.
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First, do I work alone? No.
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We have definite ideas on that.
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You'll work with a woman who's just come from Missouri.
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A woman? You'll be a young couple from Missouri whose home has been burned by the Jayhawkers.
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You want revenge. You will meet Quantrell personally.
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Wow. As I said, there's still time to change your mind.
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I said wow, Colonel. I didn't say no.
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Frankie Adams. Matt Clark.
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Oh, am I glad to see you, Matt.
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I take it you two have met before.
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We've worked together for years.
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We hear about this all the time, Colonel.
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Let's say there's very little we don't know about the people we deal with, friend or enemy.
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I've been telling Matt the object of the mission.
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Oh, exciting, isn't it? I should have known you'd be the lady in the case.
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Sit down, both of you. Frankie met Quantrell last week.
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He's holed up across the line at the Wilson Ranch.
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He's using the Civil War as an excuse to write his personal history in blood.
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A little Napoleon with visions of empire.
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He's preparing something big, something that will give him the military glory he craves.
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It might mean an invasion of Kansas, an attack on one of our towns.
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It might even mean this very post.
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That's where you two come in. That's your job.
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Get me the information, and then I can demand and get the men I need.
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Here, I'll give you what details I can.
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Now, here we are.
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In order, we crossed the Confederate lines into Missouri.
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We were both aware that as spies we were on our own
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and could expect no help from Colonel Marshal or anybody else.
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Up to now, our traveling had been done at night.
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But nearing Quantrell's camp, we came out into the open.
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For two days, we hadn't met a living soul.
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The area had been abandoned since 1854
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because of the constant raiding back and forth across the border.
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How much farther?
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We're almost to the farm now.
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See what's in their packs. Get off your horses.
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I was wondering when this was going to happen.
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Just don't be nervous, that's all.
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Don't be nervous?
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I'm not nervous.
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I'm not nervous.
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I'm not nervous.
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I'm not nervous.
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I was wondering when this was going to happen.
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Just don't be nervous, that's all.
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Don't even remind me of it.
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Where are you going?
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No place, just moving along. Who are you?
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If you're Yankees or Union sympathizers,
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start making your peace with the Lord.
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I'm Bill Anderson.
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Bloody Bill?
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Some folks call me that.
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Well, I'm sure proud to know you, Bill.
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This is my missus.
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Wandering around these parts can be mighty dangerous, Clint.
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Or maybe you ain't heard.
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I heard Charlie Quantrell was looking for fighting men, that's what I heard.
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Sure would like to join up.
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Follow me.
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You and your missus wait here, Clemens.
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Not to leave till the captain talks to him.
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Come in.
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Sit down, you're just in time.
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I told the secretary how I felt about these stupid rules of war.
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He asked me what I'd do.
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I told him I'd wage such a war as to make surrender impossible.
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I'd cover the armies of the Union with blood.
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I would invade, I would exterminate,
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and I would keep right on killing until I was the victor, complete and unquestioned.
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We're fighting a holy war of vengeance.
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Right now, sitting over there in Lawrence is Jim Lane and William.
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A hundred more mad dog Yankees just like him.
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They're the men who burned your ranches, who insulted your mothers and your sisters.
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Stand at attention.
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Have your men check their guns and their saddles.
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We'll hit Lawrence tonight.
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We'll wipe it off the face of the earth.
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Yes, sir.
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They'll be ready at sundown.
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Well, I picked up a man on the way in, Charlie.
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Oh, Eleventh Hour recruit, huh?
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Where is he?
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I'll get him.
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Clements?
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Yes, sir.
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The captain will see you now.
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Right here.
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No.
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If anything happens, I want to be with you.
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Here's the new recruit, Captain.
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His name is Clements.
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Anderson says you want to sign up.
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That's right, sir.
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Well, who's the girl?
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My wife, sir.
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You're leaving a pretty girl like her at home?
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The South needs every man it can get, sir.
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I want to fight.
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All right.
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You'll do.
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Anderson, see that he draws his provisions
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and gets his ammunition.
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He'll ride with us tonight.
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Come on, Clements.
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Just a minute, miss.
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I want to talk with your wife.
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It's all right, honey.
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Go on.
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All right.
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Now, just what do you plan on doing with your husband away
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fighting a war?
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Oh, I can nurse.
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Or I can smuggle ammunition from Kansas City
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just like the other woman.
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Mighty pretty to be wasting undangered work like that.
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These are cruel times.
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Everybody has to take a chance.
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A woman as pretty as you should make or take her own chances.
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Don't talk to me like that.
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I don't like it.
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Hey, wait a minute.
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You're that little spitfire I was talking to you last week,
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aren't you?
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I told you.
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I was looking for my husband.
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And I found him.
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And I'm staying by him.
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Loyal little kitten, aren't you?
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No wonder.
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Oh.
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How long you been married?
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Three years.
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Three years married to a clod of a farmer.
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Hasn't even enough to buy you a gingham dress or a bonnet.
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You deserve better than that.
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I love him.
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That's worth more to me than a dress.
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Is it worth more than silk gowns?
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Trunks full of them?
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More than you can wear in an entire year?
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Is it worth more than three hot meals a day?
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More than a feather bed to spend your nights resting on?
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Not even you have that much these days.
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But I will have.
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We all will.
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After Lawrence, we'll have luxury like we had it before.
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Lawrence?
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I'm a big man on the border.
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Not that big.
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What do you think I'm gathering all these men together for?
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To raid a whistle stop?
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After tonight, my name will be spoken of with respect
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throughout the entire South.
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You ride along with me to Lawrence tonight,
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and I'll show you.
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Lawrence tonight.
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You know something?
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I just might change my mind.
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I just might do that little thing.
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I trust Mrs. Clemens.
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I sincerely trust this is some kind of a joke.
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Though in extremely poor taste.
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No joke, Quantrell.
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Turn around.
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You fire that thing, once the whole camp will come around it.
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Be one sure way of getting you, though.
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Now, if you'll just oblige by stepping over there,
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we'll both have a chance.
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John?
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Oh, John!
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Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?
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Huh?
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I got the information.
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Where's Quantrell?
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I had the pistol with him.
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The Yankee Smurries!
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They've taken the camp.
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They've warned the Yankee troops.
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But too late.
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Too late.
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Charlie!
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Charlie, you two!
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Charlie, you two!
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Charlie!
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Charlie!
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He's going to get you!
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We'll have to ride in Lawrence herself and warn the townspeople.
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Well.
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We reached Lawrence an hour after midnight.
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As we rode down the street, the town was asleep and as still as death.
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Hot trails coming, man! Get your guns! Hot trails coming!
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Get the women and children in the courthouse.
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All right, Matt.
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Hurry up with that band game! You never got a turn on a burning ride!
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Here they come! Look to your guns, Matt!
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Hold your fire until you get a target!
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Save that war, Captain! That's a bunch of farmers! Charge!
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Employee men, use the torch! Burn the town!
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Yes, sir!
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It began to be a losing fight.
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Two thousand citizens, mostly women and children and untrained men,
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against three hundred hardened ruffians at the border.
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Fire the dragon! Set it against the barricades!
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Ontrell had time to murder, loot and burn.
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He wrote his name that night in the Kansas history with fire and blood.
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He achieved his inhuman and evil ambition and then as suddenly as he came,
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he has suddenly went away, leaving chaos and ashes and a thousand broken hearts.
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Frankie and I were amongst the lucky ones that survived that night.
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Quatrelle's raiders were pursued and sections of his band were cut off and destroyed.
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I was personally detailed by Colonel Marshall to take as many men as I needed
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and pursue Quatrelle himself until I killed or captured him.
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During the months we spent tracking him down, he was declared an outlaw by the Confederate Army,
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the very forces he had been pretending to serve.
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In 1865, we got word that he was down in Kentucky at Wakefield's Ranch not far from Louisville.
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Quatrelle's in that barn. We don't want to get caught like sitting ducks.
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This mountain, take cover.
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We must have been seen as he rode up, or as it turned out.
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We can't do any good in here. We'll do like we've always done.
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We'll cut through somehow, boys. We'll cut through.
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Don't surrender while you still have a chance.
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Get on your horses. We'll run for it.
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Open the door.
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On your horses and after them, men, and I'll take Quatrelle.
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I'll say one thing for Quatrelle. As long as he could move, he never quit.
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I'll get you to a doctor as soon as possible.
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Never mind. I know what it's like to die.
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I've always wanted to kill him. I've killed many men.
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I regret nothing. Not even this.
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No, Quatrelle, the mad dog of the border, wasn't dead yet.
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But he was through.
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The towns of Kansas and Missouri would never again be pillaged,
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nor would his victims ever again hear that terrible rebel yell.
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About a month later, Frankie and I were summoned to the colonel's headquarters.
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Good afternoon, Colonel.
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Hello, Frankie. Matt.
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Howdy, Colonel. You sent for us, huh?
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Yes, I did. I want to thank you both for a job well done.
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Here's something that might interest you.
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It's a telegram from Louisville, Kentucky.
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William Clark Quatrelle, born in Canal Dover, Ohio, but known in Missouri as Charlie Quatrelle.
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You see, Frankie lied to people.
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Said he'd come from Maryland to make them think he was a southerner.
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He even changed his name to Charlie Quatrelle.
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Died here at the hospital of the military prison the sixth day of June, 1865.
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Signed, W.L. Sloan.
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Well, I guess that's the end of the border raiders.
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More than that, Frankie. It looks like the end of this terrible war.
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It can't last much longer.
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By the way, I've arranged with Central Intelligence for a two-weeks leave of absence for both of you.
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Oh, thanks, Colonel.
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Well, get out of here before somebody changes his mind.
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Last one out is a no-good, low-down, no-count Yankie.
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♪♪♪
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♪♪♪
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♪♪♪
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♪♪♪
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