Rio Grande Page #2

- Go ahead. Tell him, Reb.

This fella here spoke real derogatory

about the boy's pappy.

He said he was the teacher's pet

of a chowder-headed Mick sergeant.

What's that mean, Doc?

- Did you say that?

- Yes, I did.

- You did, did you?

- Yes, I did.

- Did you mean it, did you?

- Yes, I did.

We'll settle this tonight behind

the picket lines. Soldier fashion.

Marquess of Queensberry Rules.

Chowdered-face... Chow...

What was it he said?

- Chowder-headed Mick sergeant.

- Chowdered-headed Mick...

- And you meant it?

- Yes.

Nine o'clock tonight, boys.

Get it done, Johnny Reb.

Come on, boy!

Pull him up. Put some water on him.

- You're winning. Like a mountain lion.

- You're doin' good.

But don't forget to keep your left up.

Twist it like this.

- You're doing good.

- You'll get busted for this, Quincannon.

You're doin' all right, but use that right.

Keep throwing that right in there.

Hit him with the right.

It's a lovely fight, Heinze,

but watch them fouls. None of that.

And when you come out of the clinches,

none of that.

Well, Quincannon? Talk fast.

- Soldiers' fight, sir.

- What caused it?

I refuse to answer, sir. Respectfully, sir.

- Heinze?

- I refuse to answer, sir.

York?

No, sir.

Soldiers' fight, eh?

Carry on.

You heard what the colonel said.

Carry on with the fight.

Thanks, Heinze.

- Sorry, soldier.

- I apologise.

Now, sonny, let me have a look

at that eye. You'll be all right.

You little rascal. It's the left

you should have been watching. The left.

The left like that.

Good morning, sonny.

Why, that's castor oil.

Two hours and 20 minutes late.

Whoa.

That's the colonel's quarters, ma'am.

Well, Trunkett. When did you

take unto yourself a wife?

I ain't yet.

Beggin' your pardon, but unauthorised

ladies are not permitted on this post.

I am not unauthorised.

I am Trooper Jefferson York's mother.

I... I'm afraid

we have no accommodations...

...no quarters for mothers

of the enlisted men.

I have a pass

signed by General Sheridan.

May I help you, ma'am?

- I'll handle this, Captain.

- Thank you, sir.

Good evening, Kathleen.

Good evening, Kirby.

Sergeant, see that Mrs York's bags

are unloaded and taken to my quarters.

Yes, sir.

Welcome home, darling.

I see you still have that arsonist with you.

If you mean Quincannon,

he is a sergeant major in the US Army.

Anything he may have done

long ago in the line of duty,

he did in obedience to my orders.

- Reluctantly, I may add.

- Oh.

The reluctant arsonist.

The safest way to start our conversation

would be for you to just say,

"To what do I owe the honour

of your visit?"

I saw the reason for your visit today.

- How is he?

- He's grown considerably, I thought.

Right now he's bruised up a little.

Had a fight.

A fight? With another soldier?

Hardly an officer.

Hardly with an officer.

He's not gentleman enough for that.

Soldier - that's enough for me.

Not for me. Jeff was boyishly ashamed

when he was expelled from West Point.

He shouldn't have enlisted.

I could have sent him to Lexington.

He could have tutored in mathematics

and got his commission.

But he did enlist and he's here.

Here he'll stay and here he'll serve.

Ramrod, wreckage and ruin!

Still the same Kirby.

Special privilege to special born.

Still the same Kathleen.

Kirby, I've come to take Jeff home.

He signed enlistment papers.

He took an oath.

Oath! Jeff can be

released from the army,

bought off honourably

for the sum of $100.

I brought that amount with me

in Yankee gold.

You forget one

very important detail, Kathleen.

Such a release requires my signature

as commanding officer.

You've overlooked

several other important details.

Number one:

You're a fine figure of a woman.

Number two:
You probably haven't eaten.

There's a box of silver in that chest.

I'll send someone over to set the table.

- You will dine with me?

- Of course.

The regimental singers.

Probably to serenade you.

That is... very gracious of them.

- With Mrs York's permission.

- Thank you.

I'll take you home again, Kathleen

Across the ocean wild and wide

To where your heart has ever been

Since first you were my blushing bride

The roses all have left your cheeks

I watched them fade away and die

This music is not of my choosing.

I'm sorry, Kirby.

I wish it had been.

And tears bedim your loving eye

I will take you back, Kathleen

To where your heart will feel no pain

And when the fields are fresh and green

I'll take you

To your home again

- Goodnight, Kathleen. Sleep well.

- I'm sorry to dispossess you.

I dispossessed you

more forcibly 15 years ago.

You've grown more thoughtful.

Pleasant dreams.

Goodnight, Kathleen.

- Who's that?

- Sergeant Major Quincannon, ma'am.

Johnny!

Sergeant, tell them Indians

to stop that yowling.

And make them put them fires out!

Would you like to have me

carry you across?

I would not!

What was that verse you used

to sing about the Alamo?

Trooper York.

Fellas, this is my mother.

I'm deeply honoured, ma'am.

- Glad to make your acquaintance.

- Howdy, ma'am.

You don't have to hide your bruises, Jeff.

Your father told me all about them.

What kind of man is he, Mother?

He's a lonely man.

He's a very lonely man.

They say he's a great soldier.

I suppose he is, but...

...what makes soldiers great

is hateful to me.

I've come to take you home, Jeff.

I can't leave, Mother. It'd be quitting.

You're stubborn and proud, Jeff.

Just like he is.

Just like you are, Mother.

- I'll buy you out.

- No.

I failed at West Point.

I'm gonna work this out my own way.

I'll take you home as soon as

your father signs your papers.

Maybe they didn't tell you, Mother,

but the application

requires my signature, too.

I refuse to sign it.

I'd like to... Them blasted coyotes.

What coyotes, sir?

- Them ain't coyotes, sir.

- How long have you been out West?

Long enough to know a coyote

when I hear it, sir.

Watch it.

Jeff! Jeff! Put out that light.

Call the alarm.

Yes, sir.

This is an attack, Prescott.

Order a skirmish.

Skirmishers! Follow me!

Uncle Timmy! Uncle Timmy!

- How's Mrs York?

- Mrs York is not in her quarters.

Trooper York, take your mother

back to her quarters.

Yes, sir.

I will see you later, Captain.

Chiricahua.

Mescalero.

Chiricahua.

Mescalero.

White Mountain.

They've concentrated three tribes.

This means real trouble, gentlemen.

Unless we can stop them

before they cross the Rio Grande.

Captain St Jacques,

you will form Troop A.

Two bandoliers of ammunition

per trooper, four days' rations.

- Is that clear?

- Yes, sir.

- Sergeant.

- Yes, sir.

Ready to move out in 30 minutes.

I suppose I'm under arrest

for being out of bounds, as you call it?

No, but we can't have

the colonel's lady fainting

every time there's a little shooting.

Kirby...

I'll take them.

Thank you.

Attention.

Column of twos, Captain.

Right by twos!

Singers! Give us a tune.

Water, Sandy.

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