(men whistling)
(men shouting)
(horse neighing)
(men shouting, whistling)
♪♪
Whoa.
CABOT: Mr. Yates?
Mr. Yates, that Indian pack trailing us,
I got a good look at their leader. Here.
ROWDY: Hmm. He looks white.
That's astonishing.
A white man leading a pack of red savages?
Looks white-- that doesn't necessarily mean he is.
(distant gunshot)
Hold the herd!
-(men shouting) -(cattle bellowing)
Hold 'em up! (whistles)
Hold the herd! Hold 'em up!
-(whistles) - Hyah! Hyah!
(men continue shouting)
♪♪
You all right, Wish?
Oh, fine. Did you get a look at who they are?
They're Chiricahua.
You sure about that?
Well, why?
Chiricahua mean anything special to you?
Yeah. Somethin' special.
Hyah.
It's about time I picked me off
-one of them miserable Chiricahuas. -(cocks rifle)
Hold it, Jennings. Put the gun up.
What are we supposed to do, sit on our hands
while they take potshots at us?
If they wanted to hit us, they'd have done it by now.
Well, I'm not gonna give them the chance.
You'll do as you're told.
We'll make camp at that butte over there.
Where are you going?
Everybody's just full of questions today.
♪♪
(birds chirping)
(gunshot)
(neighs)
Hold your fire. I'm coming in.
-♪ Rollin', rollin', rollin' ♪ -(whip cracks)
♪ Rollin', rollin', rollin' ♪
♪ Though the streams are swollen ♪
♪ Keep them dogies rollin' ♪
♪ Rawhide ♪
-(whip cracks) -♪ Through rain and wind and weather ♪
♪ Hell-bent for leather ♪
♪ Wishin' my gal was by my side ♪
♪ All the things I'm missin' ♪
♪ Good vittles, love and kissin' ♪
♪ Are waiting at the end of my ride ♪
(whip cracks)
♪ Move 'em on, head 'em up, head 'em up, move 'em on ♪
♪ Move 'em on, head 'em up, Rawhide! ♪
♪ Cut 'em out, ride 'em in, ride 'em in, cut 'em out ♪
♪ Cut 'em out, ride 'em in ♪
-♪ Rawhide... ♪ -♪ Rollin', rollin', rollin' ♪
- Hyah! -♪ Rollin', rollin', rollin' ♪
(whip cracks)
- Hyah! -♪ Rollin', rollin', rollin' ♪
- Hyah!
♪ Rawhide! ♪
-(whip cracks) - Hyah! Hyah!
- Hyah! - (Whip cracks)
♪♪
Trail boss ride out to make deal with poor Chiricahua.
Oh, "poor” Chiricahua have been trailing us for three days.
If you're hungry, I can let you have a couple of head.
Chiricahua want white men cattle, they take.
Well, I've got 11 drovers.
You've got six, seven men.
We'll fight you if you want, but...
you're liable to not have enough men to drive out one steer.
I am Jacob Yellow-Sun,
Chiricahua chief.
My warriors do not fear death.
I didn't think the Chiricahua had any white chiefs.
I'm only part white, trail boss.
Part stupid, too. That shot you fired
could have stampeded the whole herd.
Maybe that is what I planned, trail boss.
You planned that?
They could have come this way.
You ever seen a man that's been run over
by 3,000 head of cattle?
So trail boss ride out because he pities poor Chiricahua?
Does not want old men and squaws to starve.
I can help keep you from starving
by offering you and your men work.
You help drive the herd as far as the Little Red
and I'll pay you off in cattle...
for you and your village.
Chiricahuas warriors, not squaws, drive cattle.
Well... that's the only way you'll get any cattle out of me.
We'll be moving out in an hour.
I'll, uh, expect to hear your decision.
♪♪
I say it's crazy.
They're vermin, filthy vermin.
I know these Chiricahua-- you let them hook on with us,
and you might just live to regret it.
(sighs)
Anybody else just loaded with things to say?
Well, let me tell you.
Every one of those steers we don't get to market
is money out of my pocket...
your pockets.
Now, with those Indians riding with us,
we'll get there faster and safer,
and we'll have them where we can keep an eye on them.
Jim?
Well, there's bound to be something
in what Jennings and Wishbone says.
How do you know you can trust them?
I don't know that-- I'm just telling you where I stand.
For all I know, that half-breed's
already scratched the idea.
All right. Well, Purdy, you and Kinnett
take the first night guard, Jacks and... Cabot there
will relieve you for chow.
Take a look coming off that ridge.
All right, everybody just stand easy.
We come, trail boss.
Yellow-Sun will
help white men drive cattle to water.
Yates will give Chiricahua many cattle.
Yeah, I'll be fair.
Smell "em?
Even from here... they stink.
A bunch of mangy dogs.
They looked half-starved, and that's for sure.
ROWDY: This is Yellow-Sun,
the Chiricahua chief.
Your men can put their rifles in the wagon here.
As soon as you tell your men to do so, Mr. Trail Boss.
All right, all rifles in the wagon now.
Now.
All rifles in?
Yes, sir.
(sighs)
Jacob...
I'm running this outfit, and what I say goes.
When I want your men to do something, I'll tell you
and you can pass it on, right?
Whatever you say goes, Mr. Trail Boss.
Wishbone...
make sure there's enough food for everybody.
You making that an order?
That's right.
JACOB: No, Yates.
We make our own fires, cook our own food.
All right, get supplies, uh,
out of the chuck wagon, whatever you need.
Any more orders for poor Chiricahua, Mr. Trail Boss?
No, we'll just move out after we eat.
Mr. Yates?
Yeah?
Yellow-Sun looks like a man who knows where he's going.
- Meaning what? - Meaning you and him
could be running the same trail, but to different places.
Look, right now I need him, Simon.
If the devil himself walked into this camp
and asked to ride drag, I'd...
shake his hand and put him on a horse.
♪♪
(cattle bellowing)
♪♪
Now, look, there's your post,
right there on flank where that Indian...
Well, whatever his name is.
His name is Quadero, Mr. Ramrod.
Among Chiricahua, is brave warrior.
Yeah? Well, you replace him.
You stay on flank until I replace you.
- Now, you savvy? - Oh, yes, Mr. Ramrod.
(grunts)
I'm to take your place, Quadero.
Maybe it is the other way around, Yellow-Sun.
You think this is the time and the place?
I look at Yellow-Sun,
and I see a man whose skin
is as white as the men he says he hates.
I know what is in Yellow-Sun's face...
...but I do not know what is in his heart.
(crickets chirping)
(coyote howls in distance)
Do you know, it's a weird feeling, isn't it?
Being so close to a pack of savages, I mean.
Especially when you know they'd lift your hair
for thruppence. (chuckles)
For free, young fella.
Simon,
what do you think of their leader?
I think he's a man whose legs may soon be stretched further
-than he likes. - Hmm?
(chuckles)
I had a sergeant in the war, talked like that.
Never one word when six would do.
And sometime I fall in the habit.
What I meant about the breed was
that he's part-white,
part-Indian...
and part-nothing.
(coyote howling in distance)
Drinking alone, Mr. Yates?
Just paying a call is all.
(sighs)
Thought you'd like some coffee.
(Jacob sniffs)
(Jacob sighs, sniffs)
That's good.
I pick up white man's ways, mission school.
Warms a man's belly.
Yeah. (chuckles)
Well, if there's any left by morning
you'll have to cut it with an axe.
Mission school, huh?
You... must be mostly...
Trail boss afraid to speak truth?
I'm mostly white.
Only one grandmother Indian.
Chiricahua chief's daughter.
That's enough in place where I was born.
From time I'm two years old, I...
think my name is Indian Brat.
That's all I hear.
So I come to live with Chiricahua where I'm man.
Mr. Yates,
Chiricahua dirty Indian.
Mr. Yates,
Jacob Yellow-Sun
dirty Indian.
ROWDY: Your shoulder ever get tired?
Carrying that chip around on it all the time.
You must spend half your time looking for a fight.
(smacks)
When I'm near white man, yes.
Hmm.
Seems to me you got to judge a man by what he is.
Like your cook does?
Eh, Wishbone.
Well, he's got some reason, I guess.
And Mr. Yates.
Well, you tracked me along
like a pack of hungry coyotes for three days.
You can't blame me for being a little cautious, can you?
This man Simon.
He's a friend of yours?
Yeah, that's right.
WISHBONE: Hey! Get out of there!
What do you think you're doing in my barrel?!
Oh, I knew it was not gonna be any time at all
<ill I caught one of them... - These dogs have rode with us
far enough. I say we string this one up before they get
-a hand all the way. - What's the trouble here?
I caught this one thieving.
- You sure? - Look at his hands.
He was halfway in my flour barrel.
If trail boss say all right,
Yellow-Sun show how Chiricahua punish thief.
Chiricahua hate thief.
But we are kind.
First time, we cut off one ear.
Hold it.
Yellow-Sun forget.
Trail boss job punish Chiricahua. Here.
Chiricahua not cry out.
Knife sharp.
Mr. Yates feel pity for Chiricahua thief?
Bring that, uh, barrel here, will you?
(grunting)
All right, now the show's over.
Every man who's not on night guard get some sleep
'cause we're moving out first thing in the morning.
Now, I didn't go looking for trouble.
- I know that. - Well, then you know
that trouble comes looking for a man sometimes.
Another thing you ought to know is that Chiricahua would have
far rather had you cut off both ears
than to have you shame him like you did.
That's right. That's why I did it my way.
I have a question, Mr. Simon.
Just Simon'll do.
You could be a man among us, among the Chiricahua.
Yet you work for the white man. Why?
You're no longer a slave.
I never was.
Maybe I'm learning the cattle business from the ground up
so I can, uh, own my own ranch.
I have more questions.
Ask away.
Trail Boss Yates, he is tall and strong on the outside.
But on the inside I think he is soft like a squaw.
How can such a man lead other men when he is so weak?
Weak?
Quiet, maybe.
But don't go confusing that with weakness.
Your words honor him.
He honors me.
If you're planning anything-- and I say "if"--
if you are,
don't count on Mr. Yates throwing his hand in.
Seems to me that man's supposed to be riding further up
toward point.
(birds chirping)
Yellow-Sun has remembered he is a Chiricahua.
Perhaps he will accompany Quadero to our village.
There will be many cattle to butcher, many hides to tan.
Quadero has forgotten Yellow-Sun is chief.
It is Yellow-Sun who has forgotten he is chief.
The lion has wedded the eagle,
and the offspring does not know whether to run with the lion
or fly with the eagle, so he does nothing.
Quadero has eaten of the dark mushroom.
His words are without sense.
How long will Yellow-Sun let his brothers be treated like dogs?
No one is treated like a dog.
We will do the white man's bidding until I say we do not.
How long do we do the white man's bidding?
How long?
Believe me or believe the point of my knife.
It is no disgrace to die at the hands of a chief.
Is Quadero ready to die?
Back to the herd.
I have spoken.
Yellow-Sun has spoken.
Where's he going?
Back to the herd.
Yeah? And you?
Mr. Trail Boss have nothing better to do
than watch poor Chiricahua?
Are not cattle more important than filthy Indians?
I asked you where you're going.
Maybe to lie down, rest.
Maybe to hunt up some more of your tribesmen.
White man believe what he wish,
but white man not own Indians.
I told you when we first started
there's only one boss to this outfit.
Maybe I forgot.
Jacob!
Maybe I better refresh your memory, hmm?
No fight to death?
I'm disappointed, trail boss.
(grunts)
(grunting)
I remember now, the trick of seeming to hit
with the left hand when you hit with the right.
I remember from mission school.
I remember much.
Hey, Yellow-Sun!
- What do you need? - Eh, them Indians of his--
they won't cut flank unless he gives them the orders.
You heard him. Get your men working.
(panting)
Sure, Mr. Trail Boss.
While we enjoy ourselves, your cattle may be stampeding.
But maybe we fight again sometime.
Any time.
(cattle bellowing)
(whistling)
(indistinct shouting)
(cattle bellowing)
Five or six head have strayed off into that brush.
I want you to keep a closer watch, now, you hear?
(cattle bellowing)
Hey, Purdy!
Take the wagon and give me that horse a minute.
(cattle bellowing, men whistling)
(bird singing)
(Jacob whistles)
Don't raise the rifle, old man.
This knife would find its mark long before you could shoot.
Throw the rifle down.
Perhaps you have run all out of time, Mr. Cook.
(Jacob sighs)
You go to great trouble to track Chiricahua,
but in your hatred, you forget Chiricahua best trackers.
Fortunate for you, you did not find them.
You're too easy.
What should I do?
Shoot you in the back?
That's what I'm expecting.
It is you who brought the rifle, old man.
Maybe I should make you run, see
how straight this rifle will shoot at a hundred yards.
You won't make me run.
I did not think so.
You are a fool, but brave.
Here. Yellow-Sun does not make war upon the old.
Then you're not gonna kill me?
Tell me, Mr. Cook.
The white men think of Indians as dogs,
or they pity them, which is worse.
But hatred such as yours I do not understand.
Why?
I want to hear.
Well, it goes back a long piece.
I was just nine years old
when I saw my little brother butchered in a Chiricahua raid.
I, too, lost a brother.
Killed by the white men.
But I do not hate you, old man.
In the same way,
not all Chiricahua make war upon children.
Well, that's something I tried real hard to believe.
It don't come easy.
(hoof beats approaching)
Your friends come to look for you.
Mr. Cook came out to help me find the strays.
It was very kind of him, but I tell him he is
needed to make that good coffee
for the men when they come in from the herd.
When I need your help, I will call for you.
I thought Mr. Yates said
that those rifles were to be in the wagon.
What are you two, some kind of a posse or something?
No, Wish, but Mr. Yates can't be everywhere all the time.
Wet nurses, you mean.
Well, you two can just get on back to whatever you were doing.
Whatever I might have had in mind isn't there anymore.
Git!
(cattle bellowing)
Something wrong?
No, I come to say we bring all strays back to herd.
Yeah.
Poor Chiricahua do good job first time herd cattle, no?
Yeah.
We reach the Little Red in the morning.
That's as far as our deal takes us.
Your village near enough to drive the cattle to?
There's going to be ten extra head.
Well, sort of.
Yeah. Well...
guess there's no way of me getting out of saying
that you poor Chiricahua did a good job.
Considering it's the first time out, of course.
(cattle lowing)
Hmm.
JACOB: Good eating, my brothers.
(cattle lowing)
We reach water tomorrow.
The stream the white men call Little Red.
Chiricahua must stampede the cattle,
slaughter white enemy.
What plan has Yellow-Sun?
Quadero is a coyote.
When Quadero barks, coyotes bay at the moon.
Be careful, Yellow-Sun.
I am this careful.
Who is it here who questions my right to lead?
When the time comes for you to know,
I will tell you my plan, not before.
Get all the boys over here one, two at a time,
kind of like nothing's happening.
Powwow, Ian.
Oh, thank goodness. It'll save me from another cup of coffee.
"How use doth breed a habit in man."”
Hmm?
Two Gentlemen of Verona, act five, scene four.
When do you think we're going to reach water?
I figure about sunup, maybe an hour later.
Well, if they're gonna start anything,
it'll probably be at the river.
Wish, uh, pass the boys the rifles out, hmm?
(cattle lowing)
(man calling to cattle, cattle lowing)
MAN: Hyah!
It's just a half a mile over that bluff, Rowdy.
Believe me, that river looks mighty good.
-(whistling) - MAN: Whoa!
Good, good. Well, we'll make camp here.
Tell Wishbone.
And tell Yellow-Sun his men will stay with the herd.
Our boys will take the cattle down
20 or 30 head to water, huh?
Will do.
(cattle lowing)
Eh, it's a good morning, Mr. Cook.
The river runs where it should be.
The first of the herd are already... drinking.
Oh. What are you doing back here?
I came for a cup of coffee.
Thanks. Like I told Yates,
it is white man's custom that I...
I do not forget.
I kind of halfway expected
maybe you'd be telling him about our...
Our little meeting?
Why?
Chiricahua chief is not a squaw
to go running for help when a mouse... squeaks.
Not that you're a mouse, but...
it is a Chiricahua saying.
Guess maybe some times
I am more mouse than grizzly bear at that.
Anyway, I'm much obliged to you
for keeping that just between us.
How's that coffee?
It's good medicine for men who work hard.
A little like the man who made it.
A little hot, but honest.
(cattle lowing)
Quince, how many head we got to water so far?
Oh, about half, maybe a little over.
- You know, it's a funny thing, Rowdy. -What?
Them Chiricahuas.
They're doing exactly what they're supposed to.
And?
Nothing. That's what I don't like about it.
If they're going to start something,
what are they waiting for?
Mr. Yates.
Ambush.
There must be 20 or more of them.
Yeah, and eight more of them back in camp.
That gives them about three to one against us.
There's your Chiricahua for you, Yates.
Give them an inch and see what happens.
Quadero's been gone for many hours.
(distant gunshot)
Wait.
Not Chiricahua.
Put the rifle down.
QUINCE: They're Pawnee.
CABOT: I don't see that it makes very much difference
which tribe gets our scalps. The fact is
we're still outnumbered.
The Pawnee hate the Chiricahuas worse than they hate us.
Those two tribes are blood enemies.
Does that mean that the Chiricahua
will fight on our side?
I think we're about ready to find out.
Mr. Trail Boss, this is none of my doing.
I believe that.
Look, we kept faith with you.
Will you and your men help us fight off the Pawnee?
No.
We will not kill Indians for sake of white men.
I don't have to remind you
that you've got a lot of white blood in you.
Too late for that kind of talk, Mr. Yates.
Go tell that to the town that drove out my mother.
I will remember you kept faith.
Well...
it's gonna take them a few minutes
to figure out what we're doing.
Meantime, maybe we can make a stand
up in those rocks there.
Jim, you and Simon get down to the river.
Start dragging the boys back.
But make it look like it's regular routine, huh?
Ian, hightail it back and get Wishbone.
Get him to get the wagon up there in those rocks.
JACOB: It was Quadero who brought the Pawnee here.
It was not hard to make the Pawnee
follow a single Chiricahua.
Let them Kill each other off.
The Pawnee and the white men.
The Chiricahua will be the gainers.
No man gains from treachery.
What does Chief Yellow-Sun decide now?
What does Quadero suggest?
These cattle are ours to take.
Take only part of the herd?
If Quadero's plan work,
we need only wait, take all.
(speaking Pawnee)
(whooping)
What's all this ruckus you got going here?
Enough ruckus even for you, Wish.
Come on up the hill.
Quince, Simon...
They're coming in, and I guess they figure
we're the only ones they got to worry about.
Jennings was right.
You can't trust them Chiricahua.
Well, if we came across a battle
between whites and Indians, who would we side with?
Yeah, I figure there's about 20 of them.
That's better than two to one.
How's our ammunition?
Not too good.
Well, good luck.
It'll have to do.
Up the hill.
Down there.
Jennings, move!
(shouting in Pawnee)
(Pawnee warriors whooping)
(gunfire)
(screams)
(shouting in Pawnee)
Ian, hand me my medical kit.
(whooping)
(yells)
You know something, Mr. Yates?
Here we are, not far from the river,
and in all the excitement I forgot to fill my canteen.
(sighs)
(clicking)
Not so good, does it?
Not so good today.
Wish, how is he?
Dead.
I tell you, at this rate,
we'll be out of bullets before long.
Just make every shot count.
(screams)
(distant shouting, gunfire)
My brothers, we have not kept faith.
Quadero, the brave Quadero,
says we can have many cattle,
much meat.
But the taste will be bitter.
We gain honor in the death of our enemies.
The honor of coyotes and thieves.
That way lies honor.
That way lies death.
JACOB: Well, then, we die as men.
When honor is gone, nothing remains.
It is better to die in battle against the Pawnee
then to live as coyotes.
My brothers...
we can win this battle.
We can win glory
that will live long after we are dust.
Death to the Pawnee!
Hah!
(whooping)
Look!
(gunfire)
QUINCE: I don't believe it.
I just don't believe it!
A man's got to believe what he sees.
Be careful where you're firing.
(grunts)
(whooping)
(gunfire, shouting)
(shouting in Pawnee)
(shouting fades into distance)
Mr. Yates...
this might be about as close to a miracle
as our little group of sinners is liable to come to.
♪♪
Well, Mr. Trail Boss?
Yellow-Sun does his people proud.
And I'd like to shake Yellow-Sun's hand.
It is welcome, Mr. Cook.
The past is dead.
Dead and buried.
(gunshot)
The bite of a coyote is sharp.
Don't try to talk.
I'll get you fixed up right away.
No...
I'm no child.
I die, I know.
Yates...
I have more white blood in me than I knew.
Wish...
No.
I die.
It is my time.
If we fight again, ...
...this time, my eye would follow
that trick of your left hand.
I think...
maybe I win.
Maybe.
Mr. Wishbone...
...your coffee is the best I ever drink.
Quince, why don't you take a few of the boys
and help them cut out their cattle?
More white than Indian, wasn't he?
No, Wish.
No more white than Indian.