(background chatter)
- You new in town?
- Yeah.
- You lookin' for work?
- I'm lookin' to do a job on the railroad.
(background chatter)
- We'll ride in ones and twos.
Morgan here, Burtee here. You got the sawmill,
you watch the saloon and the whorehouse.
(coin clinking)
- You wanna have another go?
- And, Dennis, you take care of the boxcar guard.
Jimmy, you watch from the restaurant.
Me, Fitz and Louie, we'll take the office.
(man): Ma'am.
Ma'am.
- Just a blond girl and a pencil dick with 50,000 in the safe.
When them Yankee bastards is out, we slip in
and take their payroll.
Εasier'n butter's greasy, boys.
The one guard all we gotta worry about?
You remember that nigger guard on the train with the gun?
- The one that buffaloed Bohannon?
- Struttin' around like a big old black rooster.
I knew somethin' weren't right with him and Bohannon.
And get this,
Bohannon hisself is working on the railroad.
- Better not run into no Bohannon.
- Shit, I ain't worried.
Besides, he'll be miles away
when we take that 50,000.
- Cullen's alive?
(Bohannon): Y'all secure them brakes this time.
- He's walkin' the streets like the risen Christ.
(theme music)
(Toole): Pull, you sons of bitches!
(man): Keep those lines taut!
Just put it down!
Work together!
- Get in line! Pull!
(grunting) - Oh, jeez!!
Come on, pull!
(indistinct chatter)
C'mon, pull, you bunch of girls!
(man): C'mon now! Is that all you got?!
C'mon now!
(indistinct chatter)
C'mon!
- Together, Mr. Toole... and heave!
(men shouting) Heave!
(men): Pull! - Heave!
(men): Pull! (man): Watch yourself.
- Heave! (men): Pull!
- One more time, we'll have this son of a whore in the air! Heave!
(men): Pull! (grunting)
- Alright!
(cheering and shouting) That a way, lads!
We got her done!
Good job!
- Good work, Mr. Toole.
- You as well... Mr. Bohannon.
- Alright, let's shore her up and raise her sister by the end of the day, alright?
A huntin' dog looked at me just like that one time.
It can be done, Mr. Toole.
(Toole): Alright, enough of the pecker play!
We got another one to raise! (men): Alright, sir!
(horse snorting)
- Leave off wearing any Rebel garb, boys.
Let's not draw eyes on ourselves.
Doc.
C'mere. (thunder rumbling)
Where you think you're goin'?
- It's the last job, right? - Well, I need you here
to patch up anybody that might need patchin' up.
- I'd just soon ride along on this one if it's all the same to you.
- You got notions of ridin' in and warnin' your Mississippi friend...
...that ain't gonna end well for him or you.
(thunder rumbling) - I wish you'd tell me
what's on your mind.
- I've been thinking about...
what I'll do with myself once we reach the Pacific.
- Pacific? (chuckling)
I've hardly thought past the gorge.
- Knowing you, you've already written your victory speech.
- Yes, there will be speeches and deals to be made.
- And then you'll return to New York.
- Well, New York is my home. (Lily sighing)
- I was just wondering...
...what will become of me.
I'll see you later.
- Good morning, Reverend.
I have made us some...
some strong coffee. (grunting)
And a nice hardtack biscuit.
I trust you slept well, huh?
- Just... just one drink.
- Oh, you're like the duck in the song the Negroes sing.
The river were whiskey, you'd dive in and never come up.
Huh?
Hey, hey, hey, hey.
- I don't wanna do this any longer. - Good!
You made me promise to keep you locked up, especially when you made such declarations.
- I mean it now. - As I meant it then!
Sit!
(Reverend, tearfully): I can't go on...
- Ah...
When you have taken strength
from your breakfast - huh? -
perhaps you can finish your manifesto. Huh?
- No one... no one cares about that. - You were finishing...
point five of the white man's predilection for racial eradication.
Lovely writing, I must say.
Passionate without unnecessary histrionics.
Though I believe there is an "a"...
...in "vengeance."
(breathing heavily)
- You alright, ma'am?
- I'm fine. Thanks for askin'.
- My pleasure.
(Ferguson): A bottle.
(Carl): You gonna pay for that?
- Put it on my tab.
- Huh. Ain't no more room on your tab.
- Huh.
You best find some room.
- Yeah. I-I-I... - Rye.
- Be right there. Ahem.
- I said rye. - Alright.
I'm here.
- So you let niggers drink in here?
What you looking at, boy?
- Trash got a name?
Or you just go by "Trash?" - Now, Mr. Ferguson,
I don't want no more shootin' from you. - Mr. Ferguson. Mr. Ferguson.
Now, that's pretty funny.
- Where you get that pistol, Mr. Trash?
- This one here? - Touch it and I'll blow your head off.
- Cease fire, gents!
My friend here, he gets his neck up when he's drinkin'. I apologize.
Perhaps you'll allow me to buy this Negro gentleman a drink.
- Ahem. - Well, he usually drinks a bottle.
- A bottle it is, then. (clunk)
We're leavin' and want no trouble.
- Yeah... (door opening)
- Good day to ya.
- Well, there's two more customers you done me out of, Mr. Ferguson.
You're breakin' me! And don't come back!
- Last time I saw that Griswold,
Cullen Bohannon was pointing it in my face.
- It's a common sidearm among the Southerners.
- It might be the Southerners that's robbing your trains.
- You recognize them from the robbery? - No, sir.
But I got a feeling something's up. - How so?
- Payroll come same day they show up?
Two white Rebels buying a black man a drink? That ain't right.
- Arm whoever's in town and post them by the railroad office.
- Nobody in town except shopkeepers and sick list.
- Well, arm them!
- Yes, sir.
- Oh...
and send a fast rider to fetch Bohannon.
- Yes, sir.
(woman): I understand that, but it's gotta... - You two, come with me.
- Mr. Ferguson... what can we do for you?
- You need rifles. C'mon.
- Rifles? It's the Germans!
- Nah. There's gonna be some trouble.
I need men who will kill. - Stop.
Then why you comin' to us?
We're not riflemen. - Yeah, we're businessmen, we're not killers.
- Today you be what I say you be.
C'mon.
Damn.
Carl's got guns under the bar.
Go get 'em.
- Right.
- Go get 'em! Go get 'em now!
(coughing) See you on the sick list again.
- I'll be back out there tomorrow. - I need you help today, though.
- You don't need me.
- Look, them Johnny Rebs been robbin' the train.
They in town. (coughing)
Might be here to steal the payroll. I need your help.
(groaning)
- I don't think I'm up for it.
- Can you just cover the west road
in case they make a run for it? - No!
(bell tinkling) - Lily?
I think you should go back to your car. - What's happened?
Ah!! - This here is happening.
Alright, blondie, get over here and open up that safe.
- Don't do it, Lily. - And who are you?
- Thomas Durant. This is my railroad.
And that is my payroll.
- Well, not much longer it ain't. Go on, get over here.
- Ah!! Stop it!!
Ah!!
- Ah! - No!! Thomas!!
- Ah!
- Get over here and open that damn safe!!
- Please!
Please! - Open it!!
(crying)
- I heard gunshots. - I know.
Use Durant's telegraph, tell the fort we being robbed by Rebels.
- Fort's too far away to help. - Whatever happens,
somebody need to know who done it. (gunshot)
(gunfire) - Whoa.
(neighing)
(women screaming) - You ladies get back inside!
You wanna die?! Get your ass back inside that tent!
You move now! Get inside!
(gunfire and screaming)
(women screaming)
(sobbing)
- Woman, if you don't open this safe, we will finish off the old man.
Do you understand me? - Yes.
(gun cocking) Yes.
- Open the safe!!
- I can't think with that!
- Ooh!
Oh!
(gunfire) - Come on now.
Take a deep breath.
- Ah... Ah!!
- C'mon, get outta the way. Go on!
Bring that bag! Come on, fill it up. Get them coins, too!
(Lily panting) C'mon, hurry now!
(grunting)
(laughter)
You are a felon!
- C'mon, let's go.
(laughing)
Ah!!
- Oh! Dammit, it's Bohannon! Sonofabitch, grab that money! C'mon!
(gunshot)
- Hey, Dennis!
(Lily panting) - Here we go.
(Ferguson): You got you some nice friends.
- Ain't much fun killin' 'em, but they seem to need it.
- True words. - Let's do it.
- Oh...
(gunfire)
Reverend! Listen.
Do you hear that? (gunfire)
- It's thunder. - No, no, no, no.
Much sweeter sound. Trumpets.
- Dammit. (groaning)
- Trumpets announcing the breaking of the seals. Your prophecy.
- Hyah! Hyah!
Ah! (whinnying)
(grunting)
(neighing) (groaning)
- Ooh!
(panicked chatter) (woman): Oh, no!
(women screaming) No! No!
- Get back! - Get back!!
Oh!
(women screaming) (woman): Oh, my God!!!
(groaning)
(panicked chatter) (screaming)
(panting)
(Durant groaning) (Hawkins): C'mon, c'mon, c'mon.
Ah!! Ah!!!
(Hawkins groaning)
C'mon.
C'mon! (panting)
C'mon!!
I got you now, boy.
I got you now!
(gunshot) Ah!! Ah!!
- Thomas?
Thomas!
(groaning) - Hey, hey! Yeah.
You wouldn't kill one of your own, unarmed and injured, now, would you?
Heh.
(Lily): Someone help!! (running footsteps)
Mr. Durant is dying!
- Where's Doc? (cackling)
- Uh! Ah!!!
- Help!!
- Ah!! - Tell me where is he, you sumbitch.
- Hellfire, Bohannon!
River camp, two miles east.
- Lock his ass in the pig car, I'll be back. (Hawkins groaning)
- Get your ass up, boy.
Get up!
(groaning)
(man): We're gonna set him down. Εasy.
- Let's use this.
- What is it? - Rag of clay and black mustard.
Indian trick.
I done my share of midwifing.
First thing, we gotta stop the bleedin'.
(Durant groaning)
- Thank you.
(Hawkins): I need water. (groaning)
- Get on up in there.
Maybe I get you some. (Hawkins screaming)
- Okay... Okay, okay.
C'mon. Water.
I need some water. Dammit.
Water.
(panting)
Please.
Ah...
Oh...
- Here.
Fresh and still cool from the rain.
(snorting and horking)
- Ha.
Ah...
- Damn, Cullen. I can't believe...
- There's people hurt. Grab your bags. Mount up.
- Where's... - All of 'em's dead,
except Hawkins. Let's go!
(thunder rumbling)
- No.
(sighing)
Uh... hands up like that.
Angels looking to heaven.
Just get... going a little bit more
for the picture. Oh, sir...
may I photograph you looking... sorrowfully at this...
dead whore?
- Get the hell outta here!
Get back to work! (indistinct replies)
Move it!
- Move the hell out the way.
- Clear that table.
(Bohannon): Do it.
- Cullen, help me get him up there.
(Bohannon): 1, 2, 3!
- Who is this?
- He's a doctor. That's all you need to know.
Are we too late?
(grunting)
(screaming) (Doc): Cullen!
Hold him down, for chrissakes! (Bohannon): Shhh-shhh-shhh, stop.
(muffled screaming) Shhh-shhh.
(screaming and crying)
(screaming) Shhh-shhh-shhh...
(bell tinkling)
(grunting)
- I feel ashamed.
- You done everything you could.
- For a moment, I felt...
...relief that he might not live.
You yourself would be free...
...from your debt to the railroad.
- Oh...
He ain't dead yet.
- I should... telegraph his... wife.
She should know.
- He needs a more qualified surgeon, ma'am,
not some battlefield sawbones like me.
If I'd run across him like this in the war, I'd have moved on to the next man.
- You best do everything in your power to keep him alive.
- He needs to be opened up, Cullen.
That bullet ripped up his insides. It's lodged against his spine.
I don't have the tools or the expertise.
- Can we take him to Chicago?
- The ride'll probably kill him.
I'm doing all I can.
- Ya couldn't have just ridden on to Mexico, could you?
- I tried to tell you, Cullen, 100 times... - Uh-uh-uh, no. Uh-uh.
'Cause there never was any Mexico, was there?
Was there, Doc?
- Look what I found.
- Good.
Put 'em on.
(Hawkins): Hey! Hey, where are we going? (Ferguson): You'll find out soon.
(grunting)
(all shouting)
- This ain't right. This ain't fair!
I ain't done nothin' you ain't done, Bohannon!
Nothin'! You hear me talkin' to you, boy?!
(grunting)
I get a trial.
You can't execute a man without trying him first. That's the law.
We still got laws!
- President of the United States has spoke. - We still got laws!!!
(thunder rumbling)
(grunting)
Ah!
You was with that railroad the whole time...
...wasn't ya?
Look at me, damn ya.
How'd you end up with these Yankee bastards anyhow?
Why you here?
- You wanna say your last words?
- Yeah.
I do.
You're a coward, Bohannon.
You're yella and I always knowed it.
You betrayed your country, son.
And everyone in it.
Huh.
(laughing)
I know somethin' was squirrelly when you let this here nigger
get the drop on you. But... (laughing)
...I ain't never figured you for no nigger lover.
(laughing) (gunshot)
- Dammit, Εlam, the man wasn't done speakin' his last words.
- Yeah, he was.
(man): You best get yourself down there!
You have 5 minutes!
- You're awake.
How's the pain?
(breathing raggedly)
I've got some tincture of opium, if you'd like.
- N-no.
- It would help you sleep.
- Uh... no. No.
(breath rasping)
- Can you feel your leg? (breath gurgling)
- No.
(groaning)
- Mr. Durant...
...I know you're a doctor, so I'm gonna give it to you straight.
The bullet, it ruptured your spleen.
It's probably lodged against your spine.
I think it nicked the lienal artery,
but... I'm sorry, sir...
...I don't have the means to get in there and fix it.
- What do we do?
- The bleeding's slowing down.
He's got a stout heart.
I'd risk a train ride.
- Yes.
- Ah.
(speaking Norwegian)
You're handsome.
- Thank you, Thor.
- Mm.
- But... why?
- Why?
- Why did you save me?
- Come and see.
Come. Come. Come, come, come, come, come.
Come, come, come, come.
The Lord, holy and true, has saved you, Reverend, not me.
To judge and avenge in the name of the dissipated...
...a great sword is given unto you.
(laughter)
- Surely now, she pulled our peckers when they needed pulling.
(laughter) (man): She did.
- Let the twins out to play when they needed some company.
(laughter) Bluh-bluh-bluh-bluh-bluh.
(laughing)
She petted your head...
...made you change your drawers.
She was the one to say...
"It's alright, Mickey.
It's alright."
(sniffling/crying)
To Nell, boys. (all): To Nell!
- And to Mr. Bohannon!
(all cheering)
He may be a sonofabitch,
but he's our sonofabitch!
(all cheering)
- Mr. Ferguson, it'd be best if you drink elsewhere tonight.
- I'm drinkin' here tonight.
- Well, you were seen hidin'
around a boxcar during the robbery.
- I was in the thick of it.
- Yeah... from which Mr. Bohannon saved your black bottom.
(all cheering)
- Johnny Reb come flyin' at me like a bat outta hell, huh?
Εyes wild, horse snortin'.
Huh! Ha-ha! It's him or me.
So I raised up...
Boom! (all): Oh!
- That's right. And I lay him low! Ha-ha! Lay him low. That's right.
(man): Hold up, y'all. Hold up.
- You in the wrong place, ain't ya, son? The white-folk bar over yonder.
- Come to drink with y'all.
Hmm?
- Alright.
See what you got here.
Hmm. Tennessee.
- That there the good stuff.
Not that rot gut y'all drink.
- Hmm.
Well, y'all, go on and break that open. Hmm?
Εnjoy yourself.
Guess me and you down to the rot gut. Hmm.
Good stuff.
(coughing)
- Shit'll make you blind.
- Mm-hmm.
Make you see the good Lord first, though.
- You ever wonder what'll happen to y'all if old man Durant die?
- Reckon we be on the first train smokin' back to Georgia.
How about you?
- What about me?
- How long you think you gonna last in this town... without him to protect you?
Hmm?
Just be another nigger in the white-man world.
(laughing)
Mm-hmm.
(laughing)
Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.
- Is he dead?
- No.
- No. I already buried Hawkins.
- It says "All those aiding and abetting."
(sighing)
- But Doc...
Doc just held the horses.
- I'm sorry, Cullen.
Subtitling: CNST, Montreal