White Feather

---

This is the northern range country of Wyoming.

The year is 1877.

What you are about to see

actually happened.

The only difference will be

that when the Indians speak...

they will speak in our language

so that you can understand them.

My name is Josh Tanner.

I'm taking a shortcut

to Fort Laramie.

I shouldn't be here.

This is Cheyenne country.

Whoa.

Whoa, boy.

Easy, boy. Easy.

He is either a fool

or he has courage.

The blood is new.

He is a fool to think we are gone.

No. He thinks we are here...

and he wants us to know this.

This is a good game.

But if he crosses our river, shoot.

We will see if his gods

are with him.

It was a good game.

Perhaps next time he will not win.

Look what's coming.

- Where did you find that body?

- At 20-Mile Creek.

- That's in Cheyenne country.

- I know that.

- What were you doing there?

- I was on my way here.

Take him to headquarters.

Oh, I, uh-

I found these with him.

Well, anybody who's getting impatient,

take a good look.

He couldn't wait.

The peace commission was too slow for him.

So he crossed over into Indian territory

and got what he deserved.

I'm warning you.

From now on...

any man who crosses over

and gets back will wish he hadn't.

The gold you're after will still be there

when the treaty is signed.

But until then, the agreement is...

we stay on our side of the river

and they stay on theirs!

So far, they've stayed on theirs.

But how long they will if violations like this

go on I can't promise you.

- Are any of you friends of his?

- His name is Judd Smith.

Take him and bury him.

Oh. Here's what he died for.

Anybody claiming it?

You can start explaining yourself.

Whatever you need to know, sir, is in here.

There's, uh, not much to explain.

For your information, we're trying to get

a new treaty signed with the Indians.

The Sioux, the Crow and the Blackfeet

are discussing it with us...

but Chief Broken Hand and his Cheyennes

are holding out.

I have no idea what they're gonna do.

We're sitting on a powder keg here.

And people like you and that prospector

seem to be doing your best to blow the lid off.

You can save the speeches, Colonel.

I'm not a private in your army.

No, but you're at Fort Laramie

and I'm in charge here.

Josh Tanner, huh?

Why did you come here, Mr. Tanner?

- It says there.

- Answer the question.

I have a contract with some businessmen

from St. Louis.

- You mean gamblers?

- Because I dress like this? I happen to prefer it to buckskin.

You can't judge a man

by his clothes, can you?

You should have had more sense

than to come alone...

through Cheyenne country

at a time like this.

I traveled at night

until the last day out.

I certainly didn't want to go north,

then east down the Missouri...

just to make a big, safe swing

through Pawnee country.

You seem to know the territory.

One of the reasons I got the contract.

My father was with a trading outfit.

Until I went east to school,

I walked every foot of this country with him.

- You're authorized here to stake out Black Hills country.

- That's right.

- Another gold syndicate?

- Real estate.

The gentlemen who hired me figured where

there's gold there will be a city sooner or later.

And you intend to bypass gold

for real estate?

I'm not a prospector, Colonel.

I'm a surveyor...

hired to lay out a town site.

Oh, a town builder.

Just a public-spirited citizen, is that it?

Not at all.

I'm being paid for it.

- Hmm?

- The commissioners are waiting for you at the council tree.

- Any sign of Broken Hand or any of the Cheyennes?

- Not yet, sir.

- And the government's new gifts are on display?

- They are, sir.

All right, I'll be right down.

I hope you enjoy your stay in Laramie.

It may be a long one.

Broken Hand should have more consideration

for the gentlemen from St. Louis.

Yes, and for the prospectors

of thieves and gamblers...

that are just waiting to crawl all over

his territory the minute the treaty is signed.

- You blame him for staying away?

- I never thought much about it.

To me, Indians are Indians.

I have no feeling about them.

I envy you that, Mr. Tanner.

Good-day, Mr. Tanner.

- Is the detail ready, Sergeant?

- Yes, sir.

The colonel will be out in a minute.

- Oh, Mr. Tanner.

- Yes?

You know that all civilians are restricted

to this side of the river...

till the council is finished?

I believe the colonel

mentioned that fact.

This here's a white man's store.

And if I never see another Injun around here,

it'll be soon enough for me.

Run 'em off the land

is what I say...

like we should've run Red Cloud

off eight years ago...

when he sat right in this room signing

that half-baked, misbegotten treaty...

the one that's keeping

you prospectors tied down here...

instead of out there where there's enough

gold laying right out on the ground...

to pay for the whole Civil War.

I beg your pardon.

I'm looking for a room.

See the daughter at the back.

If I was you, I'd just buy repeaters

and enough ammunition.

What are you doing here?

- I'm sorry. I-

- Get out.!

Get out of here!

- Your father sent me.

- He sent you?

Yes, it was about a room.

He said to see the daughter at the back.

This is a store, not a hotel.

We have no rooms.

Well, anything with a roof

over my head would do.

- Even a nice empty shelf someplace.

- You a faro dealer?

You and the colonel.

I'm a surveyor.

I'll even call myself

a topographical engineer...

if it'll get me

any closer to your bathtub.

But, uh, since there's no room,

I'll run along.

And I apologize for breaking in on you like this.

There... is the storeroom.

That's where the tub is.

Bean sacks.

This is the best bunk in the world.

They shift when you turn over.

Say, this is a beauty.

Did my father say anything to you about me

when you talked to him?

No. No, he didn't.

Only that I was to ask you about the room.

Many days we have waited...

and Broken Hand and his Cheyennes

have not come to sit with us.

I ask now

that our friends, the Sioux...

the Arapahos and the Blackfeet

sign the treaty without him.

Indians!

Cheyennes!

Take cover!

Colonel! Colonel,

those Indians should be hanged!

Every last one of'em

should be hanged!

- What charges would you file?

- Charges?

Well, the- the brazenness of this whole-

the indignity of it!

Is your lost dignity worth a war?

No, I guess you're- I guess you're right.

We've lost so much face

around here now...

I guess this little

bit more won't kill us.

Arapaho.

Blackfeet.

And not a Cheyenne in sight.

Do you come here often?

Whenever I can.

- I feel sorry for them.

- Why? Because your father hates them?

It hasn't anything to do with him.

It's the way they're pushed around.

They haven't got a chance really,

and I think they know it.

It must be like being all alone.

I guess you'd know about that.

Please behave naturally, Ann.

And don't feel too sorry for this outfit.

They're Cheyennes.

Don't turn around, Ann.

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