- I'm here! - Where? I can't see.
I can't move!
I'm coming!
I got you now.
You're doing good.
We're going home.
God, no!
Goddamn you, God!
Tristan, it's me.
March 20, 1915.
Dear Father and Susannah:
I am being discharged from the Army, but I cannot come home yet.
I will ask Grandfather Ludlow in Cornwall...
to let me join him at sea.
As for our beloved Samuel...
all I can send home is his heart.
Alfred will bring it back.
He should be buried up in the box canyon...
where he used to draw the birds.
Your son, Tristan.
He certainly was the best of all of us, wasn't he?
Good night.
What you saw before Samuel left--
Please, don't--
No, I want to.
It is Samuel I loved.
All right.
Tristan will be back someday.
Your father will be pleased.
Susannah was to return to Boston on the morning train...
but a norther blew for three days...
and drifted over the tracks.
The Colonel insisted she stay on until spring.
The house was too empty, he said.
This was still her home, he told her.
He should have let her go.
But how could he have known what would happen?
She was not to blame.
She was like the water that freezes in the rock...
and splits it apart.
It was no more her fault than it is the fault of the water...
when the rock shatters.
You know how much I --
You know how much I loved Samuel.
And I think you know--
Out of respect for him, I wanted to say it here.
I think you know that...
I'm in love with you.
From the first moment I saw you...
like in a novel.
That's my mother's overblown romantic imagination coming out in me.
You're not making this very easy for me.
Sorry.
Is there any hope that you could learn to love me?
Not the way you love Samuel, of course...
but enough to--
We could make a life together.
A happy life.
I don't think so.
Sounds like you're not sure, though. Maybe there's a chance?
- What? - I can only cause you pain, Alfred.
Why not let me be the judge of that?
I didn't break it, but I can fix it.
I can put the damn wheel back on and take it off myself.
Go take a nap.
- What? - Look!
I'm going into town if--
Welcome home, son.
I couldn't save him.
Of course you couldn't.
It's all right.
Have a nice ride today?
Excuse me, Father.
Tristan, please.
When are you planning to be married?
Good morning.
Damn you.
You will marry her.
- Make an honest woman of her? - Yes!
God damn you to hell.
Yes, I will marry her, if she'll have me.
If she'll have you?
Do you love her?
Or did you seduce her just to spite me?
That's not what I did.
- What about Samuel? - What?
You tell me about Samuel.
We all loved Samuel. Samuel is dead.
How convenient for you.
Because you love her, I will forgive you for that.
Once. You say that again, and we're not brothers.
You know you can't make her happy.
I'm gonna try.
You will fail.
I'll be leaving today.
I wish you both all the best.
- Good-bye, son. - Wish me luck.
Good luck.
September 7, 1915.
Dearest Mother:
I think I may have found my place in this world.
Helena is a city turned modern overnight...
bursting with all the energy and vitality...
of our times.
I feel alive here.
There is much opportunity for anyone...
who dedicates himself to his labors.
Already, I have acquired a reputation for honesty and fair dealing...
and I am pleased to call some of Helena's most influential citizens...
my friends.
They are determined to see this city grow, as am I.
We're proud of you.
Mother, thank you for your kind letter.
You knew my hopes.
That you understand my disappointment is a great comfort to me.
Every night I pray for the grace to forgive Tristan.
I know you understand.
Your loving son, Alfred.
Quit it!
Goddamn it!
If we have a boy, I'd like to call him Samuel.
And if it's a girl, Isabel.
I'll still love you.
You'll tolerate me because of how much I love you.
Nothing.
I heard from your mother.
She says Alfred has hooked up with those damn O' Banion brothers.
- He's doing well. - Alfred will do well wherever he is.
- Except here with us. - That's my fault.
- I didn't say that. - Couldn't save Samuel either, could I ?
Don't you dare say that. That was in God's hands.
Was it?
Colonel! Lost a couple calves near Camas Canyon.
- Might be a grizzly. - My grizzly?
- You take him, Tristan. - Damn right I will.
I don't know why Tristan did not kill that damn old bear.
The Old Ones say:
"When a man and an animal...
have spilled each other's blood...
they become one. "
I said four beers, Mr. Sachtleben.
And I said no Indians.
- He's quite civilized, I assure you. - Yeah?
- Give him a beer. - Stay out of it.
- My father said four. - He heard me.
We're about to reach an understanding.
Just give him a goddamn beer!
Stay out of it!
Damn you. You're a damn fool.
You're spoiling for a fight with a man who outweighs you.
As we speak, he's sear ching for some kind of a weapon.
Isn't that right?
To split your stupid skull and kill you and good riddance.
Leave it!
- Yes, sir? - I want four beers, now.
The lousy owner says he doesn't want to serve Indians.
Get back.
Do you see this man?
Do you? His name is One Stab.
He's a venerated Cree elder and has counted coup on hundreds of his enemies.
He's our friend. He's thirsty.
I think it was the bear's voice he heard deep inside him...
growling low of dark, secret places.
Were you going to say good-bye?
How long will you be gone?
Not long. A few months.
I can make it better for you.
If we'd had a child...
or if I were pregnant, would you still go?
Yes.
Just give me a chance.
Don't do that.
Look at me.
Please, look at me.
I'll wait for you.
However long it takes.
I'll wait for you forever.
Will he come back?
I don't know.
Stab says yes.
April 20, 1918.
Dear Tristan:
It has been months now, and still no word.
The only sign that you are alive...
is a tattered parcel that arrived today from New Guinea...
covered with strange writing...
and containing what appears to be a native bracelet.
Meant for me, I presume.
But perhaps not.
Do you still care to know what is happening here?
Cattle prices continue to fall...
and winter seems never ending.
Why don't you write?
Are you afraid to tell me you're never coming back?
Alfred continues to do well.
His business has expanded to include financial concerns in Chicago...
and Washington.
I don't pretend to understand.
He wants us to send Isabel Two to boarding school in Chicago...
but she adamantly refuses to leave the ranch.
I think she, too, is waiting for you.
I have nowhere to send this letter...
and no reason to believe you wish to receive it.
I write it only for myself.
I will hide it away with all the things left unsaid and undone...
between us.
December 1 2, 1 9 1 9.
Dear Susannah:
I have become a hunter.
Tell Stab there are creatures here that cannot even be found in books.
I have killed them all.
All we had is dead.
As I am dead.
Marry another.
Colonel, it looks like we've got company.
- I have come to ask for your blessing. - My blessing?
You see, these gentlemen and--
And a great many others, I might add.
They're urging me to run for office.
- What office? - The United States Congress.
That's how highly we think of your son.
And what do you gentlemen hope to get out of this?
I beg your pardon?
I've spoken plain English, sir. What do you want for yourselves?
Father, I don't think that these gentlemen--
Did you ask that question or do you believe these gentlemen...
would back you out of patriotic duty and your inestimable worth?
You forget yourself, Father. I am no longer a child.
Colonel, the Congress--
Congress is government, sir. I worked for the government once.
The issues that we--
Indians! Indians were the issue in those days.
There is nothing as grotesque...
as the meeting of a child with a bullet...
or an entire village slaughtered while sleeping.
That was the government's resolution of that particular issue.
I've seen nothing since then to persuade me it's gained...
in wisdom, common sense or humanity.
Gentlemen, my father, for whom I have the deepest respect...
says that the government has neither wisdom nor humanity.
I will then consider it my absolute duty as my father's son...
to bring both wisdom and humanity to the United States Congress.
I thank you for your blessing. Gentlemen.
- Gentlemen, wait for me in the cars. - Yes. Certainly.
Are you all right? What's wrong?
I don't know what to say. Tristan's always been wild.
- You love him for that. - Do I ?
I suppose I do.
He does love you.
She's to be your brother's wife.
Yes, though you better remind him of that fact.
He's not here to defend himself.
No, but I see you are here to defend him and what is his...
even though he's abandoned her and you.
I won't even speak of who else he abandoned.
Damn you, boy.
Don't you blame my son for Samuel's death!
Samuel chose to be a soldier, and soldiers die...
sent to their slaughter by men in government.
Parasites like you!
Damn and blast you!
Damn you. And damn you too!
Shut your mouth. Leave her out of this!
Get out of my house and get off my land.
Why? Because I want to serve my country as you did?
Or because, like you, I love a woman who doesn't love me?
He used her and deserted her, your darling Tristan.
Alfred, don't. Please.
I loved her!
I love her still.
He stole her from me. If you want to know the truth...
he stole her from Samuel before the war.
God help me, I'll kill you.
Here. Read your darling Tristan's letter.
You deserve to be happy.
Late that night we found the Colonel on the floor...
beside a cold fire.
He could not move.
His hair turned white overnight...
and he became an old man.
And after that, Tristan sent no more letters.
As the years passed by...
we would hear that someone had seen him on a ship...
going up some river no white man had gone up before.
Stories came to us.
Strange stories.
And then, for years, there was nothing.
He was lost to us.
That was all we knew.
But every year, in the Moon of the Falling Leaves...
I would dream that the bear's voice inside him had grown silent...
and that Tristan might again come to live in the world.
But then the winter would come.
And then another spring.
And still he stayed away.
What the hell is he doing?
She's a mean old bitch, but she's yours.
Welcome home.
Old man! Where's Father?
He had a stroke some years ago.
He can't talk now.
Hello, Father.
He wants to celebrate.
I'm happy too.
Father, this is for you.
" Colonel William Ludlow, from his son Tristan."
I didn't know.
These are boars' tusks, made by a Javanese warrior.
He, too, was a great man.
I have other things for Mother and Little lzzy and Susannah.
What is it?
Alfred and Miss Susannah...
were married several years ago.
Your brother's a congressman now.
They have a big, new place in Helena.