The Fighting Kentuckian Page #4

I'll go see about the horses.

Excuse me, ma'am.

Your friend is a tactful man.

My friend is a Kentuckian, ma'am.

And how about

those surveying instruments?

They belonged to someone I knew.

He surveyed most of this country

before the French arrived.

Where is he now?

Gone. He lost his life

when his cabin burned down.

Oh.

Drunken negligence

was the verdict by Hayden's jury.

Well, that's too bad, ma'am.

It is, considering

he never took a drink in his life.

We met in Kentucky.

We were to be married in Mobile.

When I didn't hear from him,

I came to Demopolis.

George Hayden had these instruments

and turned them over

with the story of the fire.

I didn't believe the way he told it.

I stayed around to find out

what really happened.

And doesn't Hayden ever suspect that...

When he's with me, no.

At other times, there's a man

named Beau Merritt who is his watchdog.

The man on the stairs at the Hog and Horn?

- Yes.

- Uh-huh.

But as his name implies,

Beau has his weakness.

I manage to slip away occasionally.

Perhaps the presence of another surveyor

will bring the truth out in the open.

It's likely to, ma'am.

But if what you suspect is true,

I'm in a little trouble.

I realize it isn't your fight.

If you'd rather not help, I'll understand.

I didn't mean it that way, ma'am.

You rescued me and my friend

from a very unpleasant situation tonight.

The least we can do is

repay that obligation.

And besides, as Mr. Hayden says,

we do need a job.

Thank you, John Breen.

Good night, ma'am.

- Good night, ma'am.

- Good night.

You reckon you've got a weakness?

- If I have, I don't know what it is.

- Well, I do... women.

We don't know enough about them things

to fool anybody.

Well, sure we do.

You've seen army surveyors work.

You grab that stick and go out that way

and I look through this thing

and wave at you.

Why don't you grab that stick

and I'll look through here and wave at you?

- Kind of silly, isn't it?

- Kind of.

Well, I still don't like Hayden.

How much longer

have we got to do this?

Till something happens.

Whoa!

Well, it happened.

Aaargh!

I'll get out. Go on.

Did you know Breen is surveying

the French grant?

Of course.

I've got Beau keeping an eye on him.

Who's he working for?

That should be plain enough - Geraud

found him a house, gave him horses.

- Drink?

- Uh, no, thanks.

You came to me with a great idea.

"Let's move the boundary stakes

on the Frenchmen," you said.

"Let them settle on the wrong land,

clear it and build.

"And we'll take it away from them."

Yes, but I changed my mind.

But I didn't change mine.

It's still a great idea.

And I'm ready to move in.

I don't want to cause

you any trouble, Blake,

but if Geraud and Breen get together,

you'll have trouble.

I'll be out in the cold.

Now, look. I promised

you wouldn't lose anything by waiting.

I meant it.

Soon Alabama becomes a state

and I'll see that the French get title

to the land they've settled.

And in the meantime?

In the meantime, I'm paying you to make

sure that nobody finds out what happened.

- Better?

- Some.

Where's the regiment?

They'll be at Catawba

for the next three or four...

- Why?

- Oh, I was just thinking about Kentucky.

The grass is knee-high to a yearling.

The blue jays are pecking

at the persimmons

and everything is peace and quiet.

Ma's baking bread and you can smell it

all through the house.

Down in the barn, Pa's sitting up

with an old red mare

that's groaning way down deep.

Tomorrow morning, the neighbors

will come riding in to see the new foal.

It's no use, Willie. I got my neck bowed.

Well, can't we just stop this foolishness

and sit under a tree?

The sun ought to feel

mighty good on a bowed neck.

Now you're making sense.

I'll go gather up the tools.

Now what?

Some kind of a marker.

- Good thing you had your neck bowed.

- Yeah.

A fella oughta carry a gun around here.

- Hi, wrestler.

- Hello, Kentucky.

Hunters.

Papa, Papa! What is it?

It is nothing, child. Go inside.

Your arm, monsieur. Papa, he is wounded.

Come. Come, monsieur. This way.

Mademoiselle Fleurette! The gown

for the wedding - she didn't forget.

But, Marie, you forget -

my arm, my sore little wound.

Oh, monsieur.

Mademoiselle Fleurette, poor John Breen

has the wound, but I can fix him up.

I'm sure you can.

- Here's the dress I promised you, Marie.

- Mademoiselle!

Itll have to be altered.

Go in the cabin put it on.

I'll be there in a few minutes to help you.

It's beautiful. Thank you, mademoiselle.

So, you turned little Marie's head, huh?

As she says, I have the wound.

Oh, you're hurt.

- How did this happen?

- I fell down a hill.

You must be careful, John Breen.

I tried to see you last night.

I told you it would be difficult.

My father and Blake Randolph

are settling the marriage contract.

You can't marry him!

Marriages have been arranged this way

in France for hundreds of years.

But think of the road outside Mobile,

the carriage, the festival.

- You can't marry him.

- But I must, unless...

Oh, Blake Randolph!

- You were going to tell me something.

- No, not now, please.

Perhaps my mother...

Have a shot?

Had one.

That is wonderful.

That's nothing, ma'am.

Sometimes I take just a pinch of s...

- Oh, good afternoon, Monsieur Breen.

- Good afternoon.

Your friend and I are exchanging recipes.

Go ahead, Monsieur Paine.

After the pinch of salt.

You mix it good, put it

in the oven and bake.

Leave out the wheat flour, fry on

the stove, and you've got cornpone.

Excuse me, Madame De Marchand.

May I talk to you? It's important.

Of course, Monsieur Breen.

- Well, go look after the horses.

- I'll go look after the horses. Excuse me.

Fleurette was going to tell me something

when Blake Randolph rode up.

She said that perhaps you would...

You will admit that Blake Randolph

is an exceptional man.

- Wealthy, considerate...

- Yes, ma'am.

For instance, tonight he's bringing

some fiddlers to the house

just because I happened to like

the American music at the festival.

By the way, Monsieur Breen,

what is the difference between

a violinist and a fiddler?

I don't know, ma'am,

except a violinist tucks it under his chin

and a fiddler braces it against his arm.

Are you a fiddler or a violinist?

Neither, ma'am.

I don't know one note from another.

Willie's a fair hand with a bow. Fiddled

his way through the last five years.

- Too bad we won't be seeing you.

- But, ma'am...

Please, my daughter and Blake Randolph

are ready. Excuse me.

- We'd better pick up that surveying stuff.

- Sure.

I wonder who's chasing who.

You reckon somebody's trying to scare you?

Huh! You're acting like a hooked trout,

flapping your tail and getting no place.

Why these Frenchies got you

hog-tied and kitty-holed.

They do things different in their country.

Maybe. But they ain't in their country.

Now, if you was in Kentucky

and you sure enough wanted that girl,

what would you do?

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