Shane

Somebody's coming, Pa.

Well... Let him come.

Hope you don't mind|my cutting through your place.

- No, I guess not.|- I'm heading north.

Didn't expect to find|any fences around here.

Hello, boy.

- You were watching me, weren't you?|- Yes, I was.

I like a man who watches|things goin' around.

It means he'll make his mark some day.

Long time since I've seen a Jersey cow.

You'll see a lot more.|Jerseys and Holsteins...

...and the like.

- Can I offer you some water?|- Thanks.

You're a little touchy.

Joey!

- You know not to point guns at people.|- I wasn't pointing at anybody, Mother.

Sure had me snortin', son.

I just wanted you to see my rifle.

Bet you can shoot.

- Can't you?|- Little bit.

Looks like your friends are a little late.

What are the Ryker boys up to this time?

- Rykers?|- That's what I said.

I wouldn't know a Ryker|from your Jersey cow.

Don't forget to close the gate|on your way out.

Would you put down that gun?|Then I'll leave.

What's the difference?|You're leaving anyway.

I'd like it to be my idea.

Howdy, Starrett.

Expectin' trouble?

I don't want no trouble, Starrett.|I came to inform you.

I got that reservation beef contract.

- So many to tell me that?|- I mean business.

- Then, tend to your own.|- That's just what I'm doin'.

I'm gonna need all my range.

Now you've warned me,|get off my place.

Your place?

You'll have to get out before the snow.

- Supposin' I don't?|- You and the other squatters.

- Homesteaders, you mean.|- I could blast you outta here right now.

Listen to me. The time for gun-blastin'|a man off his place is passed.

- They're building a penitentiary...|- Joe, that's enough.

Who are you, stranger?

I'm a friend of Starrett's.

Well, Starrett, you can't say|I didn't warn you.

All right, you've told me.|Now get off my claim.

Supper'll be ready in a little while, Joe.|Won't be very long.

Wait, mister, I...

I swear, I... Wait a minute, please.

I take that back, what I...

Look, this... this thing ain't even loaded.

- Not loaded?|- No, Joey's too young to go loaded.

That's his gun.

If this don't beat all!

My name is Starrett, Joe Starrett,|and this here's Joey.

You heard what my little woman said.|Come on in, I feel like eatin'.

- You can call me Shane.|- Guess I spook kinda easy these days.

Hello, Joe.

My place ain't very much yet,|but my wife sure can cook!

It won't be long till supper.|You can wash up right here.

In case you wanted to know,|that's Ryker's spread all over there.

He thinks the whole world|belongs to him.

The old-timers can't see it yet,

but runnin' cattle|on an open range can't go on.

It takes too much space|for too little results.

Those herds aren't any good,|they're all horns and bone.

Cattle that is bred for meat and fenced in|and fed right, that's the thing.

You gotta pick your spot,|get your land, your own land.

A homesteader can't run but a few beef,|but he can grow grain,

and then with his garden|and hogs and milk, he'll be all right.

We make out, don't we, Marian?

Of course.

It's that calf again.|Joey, chase her out of there.

Joey! Run on, son.

Don't forget to shut that gate.

Joey!

Come on, shoo!

I wouldn't ask you where you're bound.

One place or another.|Some place I've never been.

- The only way I'll leave is in a pine box.|- What do you mean, Pa?

I mean they'll have to shoot me|and carry me out.

- You shouldn't talk like that.|- It's the truth.

You love this place.|We've got our roots down.

- I wish you wouldn't talk that way.|- Our first real home.

- What did you mean...?|- Joey, be quiet. The men want to talk.

There's just more work here|than I can do.

If I could hire me a man that...

I had one once,|but the Rykers roughed him up,

so he lit out, cussin' me...

They knocked his teeth out.

Ready for pie?

If nobody else is gonna eat this biscuit,|I guess I'll have to.

- We're kind of fancy, aren't we?|- What is, Pa?

Good plates, an extra fork...

What about me, Ma?

- What's the matter, Marian?|- Nothing.

That was an elegant dinner, Mrs Starrett.

Excuse me.

Where's Mr Shane going?|He didn't even say goodbye.

He's not going, Joey.|He wouldn't go without taking that.

I'm going outside with him.

- Did you ask him to stay the night?|- I'll do that right now.

Well, I'll be doggone.|Come here a minute.

Joe, why don't you hitch up the team?

Marian, I've been fighting this stump|off and on for two years.

Use the team now,|this stump could say it beat us.

Sometimes nothing will do|but your own sweat and muscle.

All right.

Bang! Bang!

I wish they'd give me|some bullets for this gun.

- Good morning, Joey.|- How did you know it was me?

Well, I figured the cow|couldn't work that latch.

- Why are you up so early?|- You're to stay for breakfast.

Oh... Well, thank you.

- Then where will you go?|- Where would you say, Joey?

I wish you'd stay here.

- Would you teach me to shoot?|- You'd like to learn to shoot?

Pa wishes you'd stay, too.|I heard him tell Mother.

He said he didn't want you|to fight his fights for him,

just help with the work.

I bet you wouldn't leave|just because it's dangerous.

Joey!

Joey, come here this minute.

I hope you'll stay, Mr Shane.|Coming, Mother!

Close the gate, Joey.

What are you doing in your nightshirt?|Come in and put your clothes on.

Would you like to hitch up the team|and haul that wire from Grafton's?

- Anything you say.|- Get off the bed. Go on!

He's holding it for me at the store.

While you're there, you might as well|get yourself some work clothes.

- What can I bring Joey?|- Soda-pop!

You don't need anything, Joey.

Be careful. I don't want my troubles|to be none of yours.

Aren't you wearing your six-shooter?

I didn't know there was|any wild game in town, Joey.

Come on, son.

Joey, come back here!

Bang!

Bang!

- Who are you shootin' at?|- Rykers. Bang!

- Did you get many?|- Missed one.

Well, can't stand for that.

Pa, do you guess|Shane will teach me to shoot?

I'll teach you myself|once I get the time, Joey.

- Can you shoot as good as Shane?|- I've never seen him shoot.

But I doubt it.

He didn't wear his gun today.|Why's that, Pa?

Well, he's tradin' at the store,|not holdin' it up.

But why, Pa? Honest, why didn't he?

- I don't wear one myself.|- It goes with him, though.

- Somebody's coming, Joe.|- I know. It's Ernie Wright.

Could you whip him, Pa?|Could you whip Shane?

- Can't you ask nothing but questions?|- But could you?

Oh, maybe.

No call for that though, Joey.|Shane's on our side.

Howdy, Joe.

How are you, Ernie?

- No good.|- What's the matter?

I'm pulling stakes.|No use of your talking.

- Now what's the matter?|- My wheat. Them Rykers raided it.

Fence cut, steers drove in.|It's just stubs now.

- When?|- Last night.

I'm leaving, and don't try|to talk me out of it.

- You can't...|- Just don't try, that's all.

- I listened to you too much already.|- Go ahead, nobody's holding you.

You wouldn't leave|your home and land, and...

Oh, Ernie, you...

I'm wore down and out. Tired of being|insulted by them fellas.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes