The Hallelujah Trail Page #3

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What's my daughter got to do with this?

- Well, your daughter...

- Please.

I beg you not to hold

Paul responsible, Father.

It was my fault. I was the one who...

She was not. And I refuse to allow her

to accept responsibility. I was the one.

- You were not.

- Yes, I was.

Paul...

- In my own quarters.

- We're sorry, Father, truly we are.

- B-but...

- But what?

But...

But may I point out, sir, that you have

the only private quarters at the fort,

and we didn't expect you back so soon.

It's true that Miss Gearhart

has her own quarters, sir,

but I thought that my presence there

might put her in a compromising position.

Since my own quarters are shared,

sir...

Slater! Answer me.

- I'm trying to, sir.

- He isn't either, not truthfully.

He wasn't keeping me out

of the temperance meeting,

I was keeping him.

I thought he might try to stop

the marching, so this seemed a lovely...

I mean, a way... to divert him.

Louise.

You don't really mind, do you, darling?

I mean, you certainly couldn't have

enjoyed yourself any the less.

Louise!

Well, I'd do anything for

Cora Massingale and her cause.

And if you've hurt her, Father,

I'll never forgive you.

- Slater.

- Yes, sir.

The women, the rally, the cannon.

I'll chalk it all up

to your inexperience.

Thank you, sir.

But you cannot...

you simply cannot use my quarters for...

for this sort of thing.

I'm sorry, sir.

Why don't you just get on with it

and marry the girl?

Stop all this lying around?

Well, the colonel knows

my feelings about that, sir.

The West is no life for a woman.

The West is no life for anyone.

Wind, dust, Indians.

I hate the wind. I hate the dust.

And I hate the Indians.

Yes, I know. And until my transfer

comes through to an eastern post, I'll...

I'll drink to that.

To you and Louise and a transfer.

There you are.

- I can't, sir.

- Why not?

I haven't said good night to Louise yet.

The liquor on my breath...

- She knows you drink, she knows I drink.

- I know that, sir, but...

If you had seen her at that meeting

tonight. She heard Mrs. Massingale.

Her eyes all lit up.

Frightened hell out of me, sir.

All right. Go to her.

Do whatever it is you do.

- Thank you, sir.

- But not on my bear rug!

No. No, sir.

Slater.

Here. Escort for a wagon train.

Fella named Wallingham.

Taxpayer, good Republican.

I want you to figure out how to intercept

the train and escort them to Denver.

Denver? That'll take over a week.

I promised Louise...

I know, I know. She'll cry, of course.

Just tell her duty is a cruel master.

Yes, sir. Duty... is a cruel... master.

Yes, sir. Thank you. Good night, sir.

- Colonel Gearhart?

Colonel?

Colonel?

I, uh...

I don't wish to intrude

on your privacy, Colonel, but...

this is vitally important.

I'm taking a bath.

The sight of a gentleman taking his bath

is not foreign to a woman

who's been widowed twice.

Well... Would you care to have a seat?

No, thank you. What I have to say

is best said standing.

You'll forgive me if I don't get up.

It's not necessary.

Mrs. Massingale,

I've already told Captain Slater

I won't hold him responsible.

In your case, I've written off

the entire incident. So now...

That's not why I'm here.

I have received a telegram from Julesburg

that distresses me deeply.

It says a train of 40 wagons left there

yesterday bound for Denver

and that you are to furnish

military escort for that train.

Is that information correct?

I received a request to that effect, yes.

Were you aware, Colonel, that the cargo

of those 40 wagons is alcohol?

- No, ma'am.

- Well, now you know.

Tell me, Colonel, are you

going to furnish escort?

Yes, ma'am.

I respectfully request

that you reconsider, Colonel.

In the name of suffering humanity,

I implore you to halt that wagon train

and destroy this poison

that they're carrying.

What you ask is... What you ask

is impossible. The cargo is legal.

I have no grounds nor wish

to destroy civilian property.

And now, madam, will you

leave me to my bath?

Is it legal to sell whiskey to Indians?

Who said anything...

Who said anything about Indians?

The cargo is headed for Denver,

for businessmen there.

- How do you know?

- I have the owner's word for it.

Mr. Frank Wallingham,

who is an acquaintance,

a taxpayer, and a good Republican.

Well, in that case,

you force me to take action.

Our movement has many friends

in many high places.

Men such as... Horace Greeley.

Is that a threat?

You can consider it such if you like.

My conscience forces me to make it.

And mine demands that I do my duty.

So be it.

May I impose upon your kindness for

directions to the post telegraph office?

Mrs. Massingale,

I'll do better than that.

I'll furnish you transportation

to the Cheyenne telegraph office,

where your messages are sure

to get out twice as quickly.

Thank you.

Call on me again if there's

anything further I can do.

You're a very generous man, Colonel.

Right turn! Ho!

Three telegrams, sir, just arrived.

Read them.

"The Governor of Colorado is

against liquor and its vicissitudes,

but his position makes it impossible

to take a position

in the matter of whiskey cargo

to Denver."

"The Adjutant General's office is

grateful to Women's Temperance

for the splendid morale factor they have

upon the American soldier. However..."

Whiskey matters must be left

to commanders in the field.

"Respectfully."

"Mr. Horace Greeley

has ever championed the noble cause

of temperance and suffrage,

but is unable to interfere with

constituted authority of the West."

Buell. Give these to Mrs. Massingale

with my compliments

and arrange transportation for her.

Her movement is moving.

Yes, sir.

On the morning of November 16th,

the Wallingham wagon train was moving

along north of the South Platte River.

At the head was its owner,

Frank Wallingham,

and its wagon master, Rafe Pike.

To the rear was

a group of Irish teamsters

under the leadership

of one Kevin O'Flaherty.

The Slater patrol was turning south

towards the course

of the Wallingham train,

and a band of Sioux warriors

was on the move,

led by the great Chief 5 Barrels

and his sub-chief, Walks-Stooped-Over,

who was also known in certain

Indian circles as Sky Eyes,

due to the blue colour of his eyes,

the heritage apparently of some slight,

uh... irregularity in his ancestry.

- Please, Father, be reasonable.

- No.

If Mrs. Massingale wants a farewell

meeting, she may use the mess hall.

But I will not attend.

But we're not asking you

to take the pledge.

Although a bit of temperance

might make you happier.

No red-blooded drinking man

is more temperate than I am.

And I'm happy. I'm damned happy.

If you would only try to

understand Mrs. Massingale,

a woman who's lost

two husbands to alcohol.

They drank themselves

into an early grave.

I can only wonder why.

Do you absolutely refuse, Father,

to attend this meeting?

I do, and I'm beginning

to regret giving you the hall.

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