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Old?! Come look at this! She has wounds. Wounds on her head. Like thrashes. Or bites. |
Maybe an animal. |
An animal? What kind of animal? A goddamned TRex, or what? |
Let me guess: Another short circuit? |
Hi, darling. |
During the Middle Ages people were executed at every corner. What's your point? |
This house, the whole damned area around here is one mass grave... Now you might call me crazy, but there is something negative about the place. |
Okay, so the house has a history and there might still be a couple of corpses in the moors. "There is something negative about the place..." What the hell are you trying to say? Come on! Spit it out! |
Will you finally cut it out? Just in case you haven't noticed, I am trying to write a book here. And maybe even with your birdbrains you can figure it's a pretty tough job. So why can't you just leave me alone? |
Damn it, look at you! Don't you see what's happening with you? We need to get out of here, don't you understand? Out of this house! |
Martin, what |
It's simply too dangerous here! But no, you always have to have it your way. |
You know what I have to do now, and believe me: I don't enjoy doing this. |
Martin, damnit, what are you up to? Let go of me! |
Of course you'll give me the blame again. Like back then. Just a tiny cut and he could still be alive today isn't that right, Ellen? |
What are you talking about |
Oh, Ellen. My sweet Ellen... Of course I knew. |
We loved each other once. Have you forgotten that? |
I told you, there is no way out. He won't let you go. |
'HE'? Whom do you mean |
It's important he knows the last chapter. |
Your book that's why you were always in the cellar! |
You know, Tommi wants me to become the man I used to be. |
...So he's dictating you a new bestseller? Whatever that is, it's not our son. |
What? |
I have a yearning for... smog, cars and many, many people... A real dirty... big city. What do you think? |
How did you get me out of there? |
I wouldn't have made it by myself. |
For God's sake, what happened to me? |
You don't remember? |
She'd be about thirteen now... |
We got two around that age... |
Where? |
You'll have to wait until we reach the agency...Fall in behind the column... |
But couldn't you...? |
Sorry... Keep the column moving!..Close ranks there! |
Don't go takin' that stuff... |
Ain't worth the mendin'... |
What you gettin' redintheface for?...I have brothers, haven't I? |
Well I ain't one of 'em! |
I'm a woman, Martie... We wash and mend your dirty clothes all our lives...When you're little we even wash <U>you</U>....How a man can ever make out to get bashful in front of a woman I'll never know... |
You talk like a feller might just as leave run around nekkid... |
Wouldn't bother me... I wouldn't try it in front of pa, though, was I you... |
Might at least have left me my pants! |
Shush!...Time for bed anyway... Likely these'll need some takin' in...Oh, Martie, you're that gaunted! ...Ma's havin' a turkey for dinner tomorrow and... |
Futterman!...He's got a little tradin' post on the South Fork o' the Brazos...Laurie, I just got to get me a good horse! Think yer pa would... |
Finish your breakfast... |
I gotta catch up with him, Laurie! |
Go on then! Pa's in the barn saddlin' the Fort Worth stud... an' you can take the light gelding with the blaze... |
But that's Sweetface your own good horse. |
Take it and welcome...but don't count on finding me here when you get back...I've been dallying around this godforsaken windscour almost two long years waitin' for you...I ain't cut out to be an old maid! |
I can't help it, Laurie...I just gotta catch up with Ethan... |
I...I wrote you a letter...Reckon you didn't get it... |
One letter in five years...I read it till the paper dried up and the writing faded out... |
It wasn't much of a letter... |
No, it wasn't...You mighta said you loved me...You mighta asked me to wait...At least that'd have been something... |
But I allus loved you...You know that, without my sayin' it...I couldn't bring myself to ask you to wait...the little I had... not knowin' how much longer until we found Debbie... |
It isn't fair... |
Don't cry, Laurie...I understand how it is...I'll just go 'way... |
You do and I'll die, Martie...I will! I'll just die! |
Martie...don't go! Not this time. |
You crazy? |
It's too late...She's a woman grown now... |
I got to fetch her home... |
Fetch <U>what</U> home?...The leavin's of Comanche bucks sold time an' again to the highest bidder?...With savage brats of her own, most like?... |
<U>Laurie</U>! Shut your mouth! |
Do you know what Ethan will do if he has a chance?...He'll put a bullet in her brain! And I tell you Martha would want him to! |
Only if I'm dead! |
Oh, all right! Well...Martin says... |
From the beginning... |
'Dear Miss Laury'...He spells it with a Y instead of an I...E...Wouldn't you think he'd know... |
Who cares what he spells it? Read the letter. |
Dear Miss Laury...I take pen in hand to let you know Ethan and me still are trying to catch up with them Com anches the late Mister Futterman told us about... |
The <U>late</U> Mister Futterman? |
That means Mister Futterman is dead, by golly. |
Every young man should at least once...Go on, Laurie! Read! |
A little Comanche squaw SQUAW! |
They never find that girl. |
Yours truly... And he even has to write his full name...Martin Pauley...not even just <U>Martie</U>!... I don't care if he <U>never</U> comes back! |
I'd be obliged if you'd get to the point, ma'am. |
I am...I am...It's just that I know Martha'd want you to think of her boys as well as her girls...And if the girls are...dead...Ethan, don't let the boys waste their lives in vengeance! |
Well, you did all a body could, Ethan. |
I got your boy killed. |
Don't go blamin' yourself... |
Why it's just a snip of calico... |
You ever see it before...like mebbe on a dress Debbie wore? |
Yes!..Yes, I remember!..Have they found her, Ethan? |
No...not yet... |
She's not a little girl any more. |
You've seen her!...She's alive? |
I've seen her...and she's alive. |
Was your niece about their age? |
Not far from it... |
Hard to realize they're white, isn't it... |
They're not white any more they're <U>Comanche</U>!...Let's see the bodies... |
Well, we only got the one lead Scar...And where we begin to look, I don't know... |
There's one thing. We recovered a bushel of trinkets in that camp... cheap stuff...trade goods...Couldn't help noticing that most of it was Mexican...Maybe if you could talk to some of those Mexican traders along the border...What do they call themselves? |
Comancheros... |
That's the breed...Course it might take time. |
Time's running out...But I'm obliged to you. |
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