The Last Rites of Ransom Pride

---

I was 11 years old

when general Batista

slaughtered half my village.

I watched him

torture my father

and butcher my mother.

The kids that survived,

I took to Juarez.

We roamed the streets

like wolves.

I came back the night

of the general's wedding.

Stole his straight razor.

The general awoke to the sound

of his own throat being cut.

While the general bled,

I sang to him.

"'Tis better to whisper

the sun is rising.

'Tis better to whisper

the sun is rising."

There's two kinds of people

in the world, fellas.

There's the wicked...

And the righteous.

And it's

the wicked man's job

to get

the righteous man's money.

This righteous tool here

is used by the wicked

to get that money.

Sure, they're old.

But they shoot true.

Now, in the hands of a man

such as Louie Chama, well...

it could bring great wealth.

- Huh?

You don't f***

with Louie Chama.

- Amigo mio

The last thing Ransom Pride

said to me was,

''I was always a lover,

despite the killings.''

The body of Ransom Pride

belongs to me.

And I understand there's someone

here who believes otherwise.

Mescal?

You go on and tell

that broke-dick son of a b*tch

he's mistaken.

I stick my dick in you.

Hmm.

Your Ransom...

he killed a priest.

This priest

was my brother by birth.

And although his faith

was misplaced,

he remains my brother

in death.

Therefore, the body

of Ransom Pride will be fed

to the devil's

black vultures,

for there must be

atonement.

He has a brother.

So this is your offer?

A woman willing to buy back

a man's soul...

With the blood

of his brother...

Is beyond salvation.

The puppies could be

coming out tonight.

Maybe I should think up

some names for 'em.

She's taken to me.

Maybe she thinks

I'm like him.

How is it you consider

yourself like Ransom?

I'm sorry, Pa.

I didn't mean

we're the very same.

I just...

- I just think that maybe-

- No, finish what you said.

I want to hear

how it is

you think

you're like your brother.

Whorin'?

Runnin', robbin'?

You're right, Pa,

we're nothing alike.

No, you're not alike.

And you should

get on your knees

and thank the Lord in heaven

you're not like him.

He's coming

to get me, Mama.

Hey, Mama.

I'm sorry.

She had them pups?

She's suffering, Pa.

She...

What's wrong

with you?

You like to watch

that suffering?

What?

Nothing's wrong.

Nothing's wrong.

Come here, sweetie.

Come here, sweetie.

- Pa, please, please.

- Come here. Come here.

You know,

what's wrong with you?

- Pa.

- Don't you let her suffer.

You don't let her

Come here, sweetie.

God damn you.

What's wrong with you?

Where are the dead?

I've often wondered.

The scripture tells us

where the dead are.

Well, see,

my wife...

The scripture tells us

what becomes of the dead.

all those who go

to their graves unsaved

shall know

the torment of hell.

Whore of Babylon.

Ransom's dead.

In Mexico.

Father, I've sinned.

I'm no longer worthy

to be called Thy son.

Proverbs 16:
18.

Don't you dare

quote scripture to me, whore.

Ezekiel 33:
33-32.

''And they come unto''-

Thessalonians 4:
15-17.

Now, I swore

I'd bury Ransom

next to his mother.

We owe him.

You owe him, whore.

You listen to me, b*tch.

You listen to me.

Ahh. Get off me.

Oh. Ow.

Oh, no.

No. I'm sorry.

I'll leave. I'll leave.

I'll get out of here.

Sorry about your ma.

How did he die?

He got shot.

A gun-runnin' deal.

Took the first bullet

in the back.

This walleyed bastard b*tch

claimed the body.

There ain't nobody left

but me and you.

We'll do this for him.

How do we get him back?

I got that worked out.

Come on.

It's time

you got weaned.

This is my father's.

Ransom took him

when he left.

He should have taken

better care of this horse.

Belongs to you now.

See that you earn it.

Champ.

Come on.

Champ.

Champ.

Don't do that.

Well, well.

Welcome back,

Captain.

Or should I say

Reverend?

Ransom's whore got him killed

down in Mexico.

And now she come back

and took his brother.

The one who killed Edna

when he come out?

Graves...

you mention my wife again,

I swear to God,

I'll kill you

with that whore on your lap.

You're the one who put

the blame on him for that.

Whore got a name?

Yeah.

Juliette Flowers.

Goddamn, Captain.

I guess she's growing

a conscience.

Was a time she'd have

murdered y'all in your sleep.

Yeah, in certain parts

of Mexico,

they sing corridos

about that half-breed girl.

Yeah.

Ain't no place in the world

my father hates more

than Mexico.

Quantrill and bloody Bill said

leave him for dead in Kansas.

He was shot up

too bad to ride.

What'd I do?

Did I leave you, Graves?

No.

I didn't leave you.

Stayed right there

with you.

There's a debt here

I guess I come to collect.

Asking for help...

oh, that's

a hard thing to do.

I guess you could ask God

to help you.

And maybe

the Christ Jesus.

I don't need God's help

for this, Graves.

I need a son of a b*tch.

Mr. Graves

wants to see you.

Your uncle

has a job for you.

Captain, behold

the answer to your prayers.

How is it you're

still living, Matthew?

You know, you ain't

the only one that Jesus saves.

Matthew was the toughest

son of a b*tch.

But the meanest

was Early Pride.

He had no conscience

whatsoever.

God damn it,

you f***ing whore.

- Who in the hell are you?

- That's my sister's boy.

Been here since she passed.

Well, he's disturbing.

I don't like the looks of him.

No, neither do I.

Son of a b*tch is uglier

than a three-peckered goat.

But he don't mind

getting his hands bloody

when a man needs killing.

Or a woman.

A half-breed b*tch

name of Juliette Flowers

took my boy to Mexico.

I-I know her.

I know who that is.

That's that

Juliette Flowers.

She-she-she's that girl

This is kin to you?

I don't care

what you do to her.

hell, you can stammer her

to death if you want.

But you just make sure

she ain't breathing

when you finish.

Now, get away from me.

I heard

he was barely 15 years old

when he and my uncle rode

into Northfield with McCluskey.

- What, you heard?

- Yeah.

Hell, me and Early was barely

weaned from the tit

when we got recruited

by Quantrill.

Back then, Shepherd,

he seemed like a man,

but looking at it now, hell,

he wasn't much more

than a boy himself.

Well, we killed every man,

and we killed every chlid,

and we killed

every goddamn dog,

and we rode all the women.

And when they

couldn't ride no more,

we killed them.

Reverend's gonna ride down

on us like some kind of hell.

He'll put a strap to me,

but he'll kill you.

I doubt it.

It felt like

he always hated me.

'Cause of your mama?

It was like I was to blame.

Ransom said

it wasn't my fault.

The old man

would get whiskey-ed up

and start cussin' me.

Ransom would never let him

lay a hand on me.

After he'd pass out,

Ransom would always say,

''It ain't your fault.''

Somebody here to see you.

Have 'em wait.

I'm doing this.

You'll want

to hear this.

Now.

Yeah?

This man tells me that...

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