The White Buffalo (1977) Script

What the hell is going on?

I had a dream.

If there'd been anyone in the upper, you'd have sent him to hell on a shutter!

I'm sorry, Mr. Bixby.

By God, Mr. Otis, you will stow those damned irons in your carpetbag, or I'll stop this train and set you out in Wyoming on your boots!

In September of 1874, Wild Bill Hickok came back to the old west.

I didn't place him then because he was wearing a different name and he had a strange bee in his bonnet.

A deadly dream that was eating out his soul.

A nightmare that he had to hunt down and face up to before it turned him into a raving maniac.

I ought to know. I was there.

Morning, Mr. Otis.

Good morning.

I regret the flummery of last night.

Well, at least now I understand why it happened.

I wish I did.

You don't have to kick chips with me, son.

Time back, you caught yourself a cold in the pants that just wouldn't let loose of you, right?

It's a scar that never heals.

First it gets into your eyes.

They can't stand the daylight, even the bright moon.

Then it rattlesnakes into your brains.

You start dreaming nightmares.

All bad.

This white buffalo keeps charging me, real as rain.

Well, son, that dream is safe enough.

The last white spike was put down by Prairie Dog Dave Morrow last month.

Way the hell and gone on the Cimarron.

Where you headed?

Mr. Otis, a tenderfoot like you isn't thinking of staking a claim in the Black Hills?

Says there, "New land of promise." lt don't promise nothing but a quick grave in a Sioux boneyard.


Jesus, Mary and Joseph!


Where is the Little One?

She's gone to the stars.

Crazy Horse, my son. lt is not fitting that the war chief of the Oglalas weeps like a young woman.

Therefore, l take away your true name.

You shall be called "Worm."

Where does her body lie?

At Enchanted Mesa, above the lake.

We placed her far from the Whites and safe from wolves.

It is time you sought out the holy bull.

The Little One will be forever tortured in the other world until you wrap her in his white robe and cleanse her spirit of its pain.


Hear me, Holy One above!

With a sacred voice, l call you!

With a weeping heart, l ask this.

Help me to find the white buffalo.

My voice is on the smoke.


l thank you, holy grandfather.

Cheyenne!

Ten-minute stop, folks.

Ten minutes!

What's that contraption?

Buff bones.

All that's left of 60 million spikes that once roamed the coast of Kansas.

My God!


God Almighty!

Hello, Pete.

Sweet Jesus, Bill.

James Otis is the name, Pete. l heard you were back in Gotham playacting on the stage with Billy Cody and making a barrel.

Making a jackass out of myself, you mean.

You! Tinhorn!

There's no open seat in this town!

Back on board.

You scramble-brained son of a bitch!

Are you trying to commit suicide?

You think the Sioux have forgot how you shot the head off of Whistler the Peacemaker? l'm money-bound, Pete. lf you think a new handle and specs are gonna hide you, you're snaffled.

You're up shit creek without a bullboat.

You're clean out of friends.

That include you, Pete?

That's a hell of a thing to say to me.

You better walk soft in Cheyenne.

Tom Custer and a troop of his toospots are in town on an lndian scout.

He's made brag he'll turn your lights out if he ever sees you again.

Well, l'll peel an eye.

Guess l won't see you this side of again, Pete.

That won't wet my eyes none.

So long, Mr. James Otis, and good luck. lf there's any left.


Where's Captain Custer? Back room, sonny.

Captain Custer, sir.

For Christ's sake, Corporal Kileen, stand at ease.

Hey, Paddy, bring us anotherjug back here.

What is it, Kileen?

Captain, sir, Sergeant Scott reports that he just saw Wild Bill Hickok come in on the Overland Limited.

God damn!

He's using a different handle, James Otis, and hiding behind a pair of dark specs.

Wonder what the hell he's doing here.

Well, sir, the sergeant thinks he's here after gold or on the trail of that white buff we sighted in the Black Hills last August. l don't give a damn what he's after.

But him and Paddy being old friends, sure as sun up, sooner or later he'll head right for here and find me.

By damn! At last l have that hair-triggered bastard in my sights.

Kileen, get your ass over the depot and tell Sergeant Scott to hang on to Hickok's trail. l wanna know exactly where he goes.

Shake it up!

What's the ruckus, Captain?

Back in Hay City in '69, he caught and killed my horse from under me.

He back shot two of my best soldiers.

That's a bucket of hot air.

Bill never back shot nobody, not in his whole life.

You calling me a liar, Paddy? l'm saying you were blind drunk.

Since l was bartender that night, l ought to know.

You're looking to wear a marble hat.

The truth is, it was your two sots who tried to back shoot Hickok and lost.

Then he killed your nag to keep it from killing one of us.

What with it jumping up on the billiard table and all.

You want me as an enemy, Paddy?

You never did give me goose bumps, Tom.

Captain, you're right, sir. Hickok's coming here now.

He's just outside.

Got him. You hug that bar and keep your trap shut unless you want to die like him.

Miles, take Kileen and jump that son of a bitch when he comes through the door.

Miles. You and the boys make him dance before l knock him off.

Yes, Tom. Come on, men, we're gonna have a little fun.

Let him dance to the tune!

Bill!

Again, Bill!


Tom Custer tried to brace you.

He's lit out hell for hades.

You took a chance, Paddy. l owed you.

Not that much.

l heard Poker Jenny works here.

She's the widow Schermerhorn now.

Gone north to a wolf roost called Fetterman to open her own place.

Well, l happen to be going that way myself.

Bill, the word is out the Sioux are riding the Bozeman Trail like lrish banshees.

So keep your pistol cocked.

Thanks, Paddy.

Hit the collars, you swayback shad bellies!

Giddyap, there, you lazy bastards!

Yes, sir, Mr. Otis, old hard ass Custer has tossed the bear into the beehive this time.

You got a case against gold?

Why do you think l'd be bouncing around in this bone-breaker on my way to that shitty little rat hole called Fetterman if l didn't succor after gold, huh?

Well, watch your tongue, Mr. Coxy.

You know, when that boy general done planted his boot down in the Black Hills, why he invited those frigging feather headers out on the warpath!

And by the time those scalp hunting sons-of-bitches are through, there's gonna be a thousand bloody nightcaps betwixt here and the Missouri.

You have a filthy mouth.

There's a lady at hand.

You mean her?

Any more hard tongue from you, you'll settle with me.

Taken kindly, Mr. Otis.

You mind your manners, Mr. Coxy.

God damn this shitty weather!

Give me that!

Damn your lazy hides! l'm getting just as wet as you are!

What in hades hell is that?

Yeah, green.

Green from horn to hocks.

l wouldn't try it on, Coxy.

Oh, God, no, man!

You wouldn't push me out on Red Cloud's big open.

For the love of heaven, no, you wouldn't!

No!

Otis! Otis!

Otis, not here!

Otis! Otis!

Otis, wait for me!

You wait! Wait!

Don't leave me alone out here!

You can't maroon a white man in this country!

You can't!

l told him.

You're about as green as snow.


Come on, old boy.

Come on around.

Hey, dude.

Give me a hand!

Help me tie these chowderheads off to the boot.

We have more important business over here.

Oh, hell!

This one here is Jim Hanley.

The other one's Pokerdeck Baker.

They had a mine up yonder on the hill.

Come on, let's get 'em inside.

Get a hold of old Jim's boots before he catches his death of cold.

l'll get them horses.

Boy.

Lord Almighty!

You think you got him?

Well, at least ways you sprinkled a little pepper on him.

Jesus sakes, if you ain't Old Lightning!

And all the time l's a thinking you didn't know B from bullshit!

This lady's walking the streets of glory.

God damn!

Blue Whistler must have caught her right in the third eye.

Maybe you'd better ride up on the box with me.

Doesn't make any sense.

No sane lndian would ride the warpath in this kind of weather.

No sense at all, not even for a Sioux.

Well, they ain't worried about it none. Why should you?

Giddyap there, come on. Giddyap. Come on. Giddyap.

Well, there she is, partner. Fetterman!

Metropolis of the Bozeman Trail!

Prettier than a nine teat sow, ain't she?

Giddyap up there!

Giddyap, there.

...up there, Amos.

What in hades hell you hauling back there?

Couple of buff hunters.

Who beefed them?

Each to other.

After they made glass out of two quarts of Old Crow.

This one with the grey socks, said he'd been charged by a white buff, back in the Black Hills near the Elk Mountains.

This one with the moccasins, allowed as how this one was a fork tongue lying asshole.

Well, the last white spike was put in a hole down on the Cimarron last month.

Amen.

When you get through planting them two, l got three more customers for you inside the coach.

And l believe they've got enough money to pay for their own boxes.

Right kindly of you, Abel.

You better lay 'em out in the snow till l get back.

Keep 'em fresh.

You think that buff hunter really did see a white spike?

No! Most likely just Sioux smoke to keep the whites from gold hunting in them hills.

Will you look after my plunder while l find a place to roost?

There's only one place to roost.

Mrs. Schermerhorn's.

God Almighty, the cats!

Hope they're all right.

Yeah. You know, this bad-eyed geezer gave me ten dollars to scare up all the stray cats l could find in Cheyenne.

Would this geezer sporting a bad eye go calling himself Charlie Zane?

Yeah, that's the bastard. You know him? l know him.


You can warm your behind at the stove.

Like some coffee? lt's strong enough to float a Colt. l'd be forever in your debt, ma'am.

Never mind the fancies. l'm Mrs. Schermerhorn.

My pleasure.

Do l know you?

James Otis, ma'am.

Don't know any Otis.

But you sure as sin remind me of...

Turn around!

Poker Jenny, l believe.

Bill!

You four-flushing son of a bitch!

You cold decked me. lf you ain't a sight for a widow in weeds!

l always could get you mounted fast, couldn't l?

Such talk!

How long ago was it when we pleasured in Hays City, huh?

Seems like forever, Cateyes. lt's been that way for me, too, Jen.

Well, tell me, what brings you up in this neck, huh?

Custer's gold.

Yeah.

Well, there's a heap up in those Black Hills.

l'm starving you to death, Cateyes.

You wait right here.

Guess you heard about me and Lucas Schermerhorn getting noosed, huh?

Just about the same time l heard you were a widow again.

Don't be a bastard.

Lucas was a lucky man, Jen.

Thank you, Cateyes.

Why do you always call me Cateyes?

Ain't you ever seen those wild eyes of yours when you're loving it up, or when you're hitching your pistols on for a shindy? l'm a man of comity, l've always dodged a fight.

Comity? Sure.

You're the most politest shootist who ever blew a man's brains out. l'm too done in to even argue about it, Jen.

Why don't you let me put you to bed in my room?

Jen, l ain't got the gumption for it.

That'll the day.

Truth.

You just lie still there. l'll fly the eagle.

No, Jen.

Some time back, one of your scarlet sisters dosed me proper.

l'm not about to ride the high horse.

Hell, l probably gave it to you myself. l'll take the chance.

But l won't.

All right, Cateyes.

You take yourself a sound snooze.

But since you're a gambling man, l'll bet you 6-2 and even that when you wake up, l'll talk you into it.

We'll see. l'll leave the door open, in case you need anything.


Dear Mother of God!

Dear Mother of God! lt was like you were fighting Armageddon with Satan himself! lt's all right. lt's all right.

But you damned near drowned me!

Where the hell did that thing come from?

When Bill Cody was shooting meat for the railroad, they thought it'd be a good stunt to pass out buff heads to all the nabobs.

And they gave you a white buff head?

You, a doxie? That's worth 2,000 gold. lt ain't real. l mean, l had it painted. l put in the pink eyes.

Jesus. l'm sorry, Jen. l'll get it mended. l don't ever want to see it again!

Well, hell spawn. lf the time's come for neck or nothing, you've found your man.

Bill. Has that sickness gone to your head?

This damn dream, Jen, hangs on like a low water leech. lf l don't kill this buff, the dream will kill me. lt's like my own fate was chasing me into the grave.

You have to turn away from it, Bill. l got to call it out.

Call out a dream?

The only way.

But don't worry, Jen, l'll be gone in the morning.

Frozen Dog's a hellhole.

Keep a wall at your back.

You're alone up there. l'm used to that.

Bill. l lost my bet.

No, Jen. l did.


Now be gentlemen. Now give the ladies some room here. lt's ten dollars for one minute, gents.

One golden eagle for sixty seconds!

And then ride that horse forjust as long as you can pay or there'll be a short funeral at sunup!

Come on, boys, line up over here.


All right, come on, let's get over there, you silly peckerwood.

Now be gentlemen. Give the ladies some room.

Now don't fret about it, Charlie.

Come on back when you got some iron in your barrel, and it'll be my treat.

Yeah. Well, thank you kindly, Frieda.

Jim, you in good luck today 'cause you gonna meet my beautiful Frieda!

To the Republic.

Well, old timer.

All curried and tame?

Name's James Otis.

Old timer, l'm looking for a glass-eyed goose hisser named Charlie Zane.

Princely fellow.

This fella Zane wears a snow white mane, which got that way 'cause he's scared of redskins.

He's been known to puddle his britches at a Kiowa war whoop.

You old fiddlefoot!

Charlie, you sure Custer found gold up there and not a field of dandelions?

He struck it.

Then what's a backshooting claim jumper like you doing here instead of there?

You need gear to dig a mine. l had to raise a bankroll.

The cats!

All right, gents, come now. Line up for the...

Place your bets.

You figuring on marshaling in this one-dog town?

No, l'll never wear the tin again. l know why you're here.

You're on a scout for the white buffalo.

Old timer, l thought you were too ripe for fairy tales.

Well, would you believe it from an eyewitness?

Depends which eye.

Don't cornhole me, young sass! l was with General Custer when we hit the nuggets at French Creek and that lollygagger of a buff challenged the whole goddamn Seventh Cavalry to a showdown!

lt's all coming true.

What're you prattling about?

Old timer.

Straight tongue.

You really saw a white spike?

Saw him?

Son-of-a-bitch threw half a mountain down on me.


Barkeep! Two stiff horns of gin.

And mind you, none of that pig pee you spigot out to these swill bellies. l only sell the fizz, friend. l don't make it.

Five dollars a bottle.

You insinuating we're shortshirks in this camp, Mr....

Brady is the name.

There was a defalcating son-of-a-bitch down in the nations named Brady.

He sold six barrels to Chief Mo-Wi and his Comanches.

And after them stinking redskins got lubricated up, they made a little war and wiped out half of my outfit.

That's a hell of a thing, Mr...

Kileen.

Whistling Jack Kileen?

Well, now, look, Mr. Kileen.

The name Brady's as common as hen shit back in the old country. l ain't your man. l'm only an old damn harp out from the States trying to make a roll.

And to show you the good faith,

gin is on the house.

That's mighty generous.

Maybe too damn generous.

All right, you jaspers, you've had my table long enough.

Skedaddle. Yeah, you don't say. l just did.

Aaron! Yup!

Watch those hide hunters.

Sure enough.

Mr. Otis, l'll pay you 500 in gold if you'll back me in any play made here tonight.

Who are they?

Where?

Behind your glass eye.

The long bean is Whistling Jack Kileen.

He's the meanest son-of-a-bitch alive. l was in Julesburg when l saw him cut an lndian trader into 300 pieces for selling a Winchester to Roman Nose.

And the sprag's name is Kid Jelly.

A grease spot, and l mean hot grease.

No, thanks, Mr. Brady. lt's not my fight.

Well, it damn well might be if Kileen knows who you really are.

Hey, what kind of tattle you talking about? l'm talking about what happened down in Cheyenne City two days ago!

You're talking yourself to death.

Tom Custer and some of his larrigans tried to brace me at Paddy Welch's.

Kileen's kid was one of them.

How'll it go?

Brady'll send the kid over with a couple of free bottles of "Oh Be Joyful."

When he gets there, he'll drop the word like a buffalo chip.

l just heard the plop.


Keep your shitty boots outta my way, old man, unless you wanna be buried in 'em!

Now, now, sonny boy.

Didn't your ma never tell you your mouth wasn't made for breaking wind?

.36 is my caliber.


l was brought up bad.

You crazy son-of-a-bitch.

Nine's the winner.

Pay the nine.

Place your bets.

This one's found his mark.

And here comes the kid. Jiggers.

Mind the Texan.

Make your play, you glass-eyed gasbag!

Cover my back, old timer.

This is your night, Hickok.

But there's gonna be another time.

Don't let me see you again.

l hope you don't think l had anything to do...

You peached. l swear by Sweet Jesus l didn't.

You swear yourself to Hell! lt's Wild Bill Hickok himself!

He got 'em both with one shot.

He got 'em both with one shot!

Well, Captain, your new name didn't last long.

You sure used this town up fast.

We'd best show a heel in these parts.

Question is, which way?

New camp forming up north.

Place called Deadwood Gulch.

Charlie, you know what l hate more than anything else in this world?

More than lndians?

Even more than dying.

What?

Being afraid.

What, you mean in there? l mean out there.

Easterly?

That's Sioux land.

There's nothing out there but the Big Open and the Black Hills.

And the white buffalo.


How many men you rubbed out, Captain?

Mostly lndians.

You really got no gut for lndians, do you?

Like Phil Sheridan said, "l ain't never seen a good lndian that wasn't dead."


Take it easy, old timer.

He's out of range.

Looks like he's on his own.

We'd best get out of here.


Use the long gun. l'll take the Winchester.


Rein up, Captain. Ain't our fight.

Look down below.


lt's an lndian hullabaloo.

But she's a daisy!

Troop ofAbsarokes chasing one flea-bit Sioux egg-sucker.

What are Crows doing in Sioux country?

Yeah. Probably heard about the white buff on the Moccasin telegraph.

Fifteen, l count.

Listen to that red nigger take on!

He's madder than a wet mouse and don't scare worth a hiccup!

No chance, though.

Fifteen to one.

Fifteen to three.

You're gonna take a hand?


l'm gonna flank them.


Peel an eye, Captain.

Hello, White-eye.

My heart is good. l thank you for helping me kill my enemies.

Friend. You are very brave.

Come to my council. lt cannot be done.

Father sun climbs high.

And it's far to the lodges of my people.

But l will not forget you, White-eye.


Want l should splat him, Captain?

Nervy rooster, ain't he?

You must be wearing hard bark to turn your back on that scratch cat.

You know damn well brave men don't back shoot.

And that redskin's all sand.

You gonna let him march out and raise troops?

You're prating like a farmer, Charlie!

He's after the white buff, same as us.

Well, let me finish him now.

Then we'd never find out. What?

Whether or not he knows where that white spike is.


lndians?

No. Thought l heard buffalo.

Wait. l got a peeper.


By heaven!

Old timer, shake out a round!

l see him! l see him!

What the hell!

He walked into solid rock!

No, there's a cave up there.

That's where we'll camp tonight.

What about old Nicodemus?

He won't hang around.

You damn sure? lt's not in my nightmare.


Break out some tallow.

Make some more of these, Charlie.

You really going in that Black Hole of Calcut? l've got a friend.


Hell spawn's gone.

There's another hole back there.

He knows his way back. lt's not in my dream.

There has to be snow.

Heavy snow.

l sure as hell wish you hadn't said that.

Mare broke loose.


That scurvy spike has killed the mare.

He's hightailed it to the other side of the mountain.

For God's sake, Captain, wait up!


Charlie!

Keep your noodle down!

This is between Hickok and us.

Hickok!

Here l am, Hickok!

Go ahead, take a couple of shots! lf you think your short guns will reach that far!

Well, come on!

What's the matter, Hickok?

Hey! Here l am up here!

Well, come on!

What're you waiting for, Hickok?

Come on!

Damn you, Hickok!

Make your move! l don't wanna have to put a bullet in a frozen carcass.


Hang on, Captain! l'll get you home!

Stay put, Charlie!

Gyp, where's Ben?

He's gone to hell in a hurry!

All right, then, you make your move before the storm gives Hickok cover!


For God's sake, Captain, put down roots!

The Colts will never cut it!

There's snow on the wind. Wait it out!

Get out of here, you damn lobo, before l skin you alive!

By heaven!

The red dandy's joined the Brigade.


Captain.

You want l should foreclose on his mortgage?

Wasichu! The demon is dead.

My thanks to you!

What are you whites doing in this land?

This is Pa Sappa, the country of the Lacotas.

These mountains belong to me!

Now the thunderbird is eating the sky.

Soon, plenty of snow.

Come to my council, my brother.

We will make good medicine.

Wahi cola! l am coming, my friend.


Pretty slick, Captain.

What?

The way you suckered him.

You try hanging a wooden suit on that child, you'll answer to me!

That snow ossify your brain? l gave him my word.

Your word to a redskin? Come on, Captain.

That's like shoveling fleas in a barn.

Just get the hell back there, grow a fire and make some grub.

Washtay. Welcome, friend.

Are you the wasichu we Sioux call Okute, the Shooter?

The one who killed Whistler the Peacemaker?

What kind of a question is that between friends?

Are you the murderer called Hickok?

The Cheyenne call me Pahaska.

Longhair?

Longhair.

Come on back when you're ready.

Let me tell you something, sonny.

Trusting Jehovah himself can be a touchy business.

But when you start betting your poke on that red cat-skinner, you are drawing to an inside straight.

Something about him.

Just another buck on the warpath.

No, he's not. He's not just an ordinary buck.

Can't you see the way he wears that eagle feather?

Like a chief!

Jiggers!

Washtay.

Come in. Come in.

Longhair. l saw that you do not own a long gun.

This l took from the demon. lt is yours.

Many thanks.

But the long gun my friend's been shooting, this one belongs to me.

He doesn't own one.


Dognation!

Well, thanks, sonny, but the fact is l ain't got nothing good enough to swap you.

You give me shelter and you share your food.

That ain't foofaraw. Wait.

But wait! Hanging up! l got a proper geegaw!

What do they call you?

Nadonaissioux myeyelo. l am small snake. l don't think so.

You are Little Snake?

Worm? Worm.

Worm. Yes. l am called Worm.

How is the old one called?

The Cheyenne call him Ochinee.

One Eye?

The same.

The great white warrior of Sand Creek?

You speak crookedly.

This cannot be true.

He thinks your glass eye is real.

Watch.

Who says l'm not Ochinee, eh?

Who says l'm not the great One-Eye?

That's enough, Charlie!

My friend's a clown. There's no magic.

This is glass, like beads. lt's not real.

But is he truly Ochinee?

He's truly One-Eye.

Fix the grub. l'm gonna fix us up a real pea warmer of a breakfast.

Buff steaks and flapjacks.

When it comes to belly cheating, l really shine.

Start shining because l have a feeling our friend Worm has a wolf in his belly.

Longhair, we must make our water on these stones. l don't figure that white buffalo's gonna turn tail at a little sprinkling of pee. lt is the way brother wolf marks his hunting grounds.

And the buffalo respects the wolf.


Tatanka!

Sing your death song!

Soon l will slay you as you slew the Little One.

Soon l will wrap her in your holy robe!

These are my words!

This buffalo is mine!

The hell you say!

The buffalo will belong to the hunter who kills him.

Mine, alone!

Well, Captain, seems like we found ourselves a porcupine to play with.

Just ride easy, Charlie.

Let's fix that wall.

Longhair. Why are you whites in my country?

We did not ask the whites to come here.

The Great Spirits gave us these hills as a home.

You say, why do not we become civilized?

We do not want your civilization.

You've spoken red truth.

Tell me then white truth, Longhair.

ln the first place, the Great Spirit did not give you these hills.

You took this land by force.

You took it from the Cheyenne, the Shoshone and the Arapaho.

You took it with the lance and tomahawk.

And now the white man makes war on you. What's the difference?

The whites have no honor.

Where white man walks, death comes out of season.

That's a thing called progress. lt's a thing called greed.

Tell me this.

Am l evil because my skin is red? ls it a wicked thing that l was born where my father was born? ls it a bad thing that l would die for my people? lt's still red truth and not real truth.

Tell me this true truth, then.

Give Red John the word!

Tell the little rooster he's extinct!

Worm.

When Sitting Bull was a boy, the Sioux could throw 10,000 warriors into battle.

Today it's the white man's turn.

Those that you have seen on these hills and on the plains are like a handful of beads.

There are many!

They are more than the blades of spring grass, more than the buffalo when they smothered the earth in their great herds.

There's no way to stand against the white man!

Their weapons are terrible!

They have the power!

You will bend to the long knives or be broken.

You will live as they say, or die on their bayonets.

That was straight tongue, Captain. lf such is the true truth, then l will sing my death song.

No. l'll not have your death.

Why not? You are white.

First, l am your brother and your friend.

Longhair. Between us...

There shall be no war.

Bullshit.


Jesus!

Charlie, light a torch.

So goddamn dark in here, couldn't find my own pizzle if l had to pee.

ls he in?

He's gone.

Jesus Christ!


Well, Captain, snow's stopped, wind's done, and our cock-a-doodle was holding aces behind his knee.

Friend Worm has seen fit to ride off on the scout without...

...cutting our throats, which was mighty white of the red ragamuffin.

Yeah. Didn't even leave a mouse sign to point the way.

For a moment there was a chance, just a chance, maybe one more day.

Hell, l guess there never will be an answer.

Well, it all depends on the question, Captain. Come on, let's go.

lt's Worm telling us to clear off.

Well, l sure as hell can't wait to argue that point with him.


What is it?

Take a whiff.

Yeah, that's buffalo, by God!

Coming from right down there.

Yeah. Yeah, it's gonna go dark fast.

Better find ourselves a stand.


By heaven!

Charlie, this is the place!

This is Armageddon.

This is the place in my nightmare.

The place where l fought the white buffalo. l'll be a Dutchman!

First time l ever saw hokum come true.

We'd better fort up in that piney grove and keep the trees at our back.

Captain, you sure you wanna play this hand?

You wanna make tracks, Charlie?

Two thousand dollars don't much pleasure a dead man.

Hell or heaven, if this is the night l was born for, so be it.

Amen.

Better take the Winchester.

You only got one shot in that.

All it takes.

Don't freeze.

Colder than a hooker's heart. l'll back you up from here.


Captain!

Captain!

Captain, you awake?

There to your left! lt's a wolf!

lt's Worm.

You want l should rub him?

No, the sharp might scare away the spike.

Maybe that demon horned bag of tricks has flimflammed us.

He's here. l know he's here.


Jesus sake's, Captain, put him down!

Shoot! Shoot!

Captain!


Pteska!

Captain, for the love of God, peel an eye!

He's on the charge again!

Captain!


Worm, use the gun!

Captain! Captain!

Captain, for the love of Jesus, what are you doing?

Captain!

Use the gun!


You all right? ls the wanagi dead?

Hell, no, he's run off.

He's clear to Christmas by now.


Why didn't you use your gun? l am war chief of the Oglalas. l could not use the white man's iron.

This bull had to be taken in the old way.

Until l slew this bull in the old way, l could not wear my own name again.

You're Crazy Horse.

Pahaska, my friend, truly we have suckled at the same mother.

Truly we are brothers born from the same belly.

Will you look at that mountain of meat, huh?

Who got him?

Cahoots.

He'll never even know he's dead.

The robe belongs to Worm.

God damn you, Hickok!

Damn you and your red rooster!

You can't do it! You can't throw $2,000 gold on a maggot meal papoose!

Charlie, l'll make it up you in Cheyenne.

So you went and got yourself some red religion, huh?

Well, you can tell your blood brother to shove it up his ass!

We're quits.


Don't try it on, old timer.

Stop scaring me, Captain. l only got one clean pair of drawers left.

You sanctimonious son-of-a-bitch!


You have lost a friend.

So it seems.

And found one.


ls everything done? lt is done.

When l cover the Little One with the robe, she will be healed and well and whole in the other world.

Will you have the right to wear your own name again?

Then l'll be saying goodbye, Crazy Horse.

Hickok.

You heard One-Eye call my name.

Yes.

You are Okute the Shooter.

The one who killed Whistler the Peacemaker.

That was another time when l was young and headstrong. lt was a bad thing.

Can't be undone. l will tell no others.

But, Longhair, though you and l are brothers, we must never meet again.

Hear me, my friend. These are my words.

We must never cross paths in the tomorrow.

For if we do, l will see only a white enemy.

And you will see only an lndian.

And we will both solve the Great Mystery.

Ohinyan, Longhair.

Ohinyan forever.