The Burrowers

It's about... Maryanne.

I... I'd like...

Mr. Stewart, I'd like to talk to you.

I've come... I've come to Washburn Creek

to talk to you... oh, good Jesus.

To your home. I've come to your home

to talk to you about Maryanne. I'd like...

I'd like very much to ask...

Maryanne... I'd like to talk to you

about Maryanne.

It's about... it's about Maryanne.

Maryanne?

Hold still.

I don't want to go to bed yet, not now.

Oh, stop your fussing. Come on.

The splinter already hurts more than pulling it out.

Okay?

Mary...

- I'm not sleepy. - We'll store you to bed.

You need to take your rest too, Mary,

if you want to look pretty when your Irish comes courting tomorrow.

You hush.

Hold still.

What's that?

Get him over there.

Aster, come. Come here.

- What's happening? - They were in the Williams house.

- Indians? - Stay with the women.

Down into the root cellar, get.

Let's go.

- Come on now. - Come on.

Come on down.

Keep your lamp low and this door locked.

You don't open it no matter what.

Ma! Ma!

- Ma, Ma. - Quiet.

Mind your brother now. Hush.

Josh.

Don't cry. Be brave for me.

Josh! Josh!

Maryanne? Mary?

Anybody home?

Mr. Williams, sir,

the Stewarts aren't home.

Oh, God.

Oh, Jesus.

The Stewarts are gone.

Easy. Did Mary say anything to you about leaving?

No.

What about the Williamses?

No, you gotta...

Oh, God.

Damn it.

Indians took 'em.

God help 'em.

We've got to get them back.

I hit three men up there.

Really?

Indians, anyway. I hit them dead.

Don't feed Dobie your horseshit, Mr. Parcher.

That ain't horseshit. That's history.

Boy ought to learn where he's come from.

Mind the cursing in front of my boy.

Yes, ma'am.

Great God Almighty, is that coconut cake?

Mom got it special.

Baked it.

Coconut cake from back East.

10 years back, not a mile from here,

I had to eat a horse to survive.

That's disgusting.

It wasn't my horse. The point is

we're here now eating coconut cake.

Right civilized country.

There's chicken and cornbread.

I know it. I'll attend to that cornbread directly.

There's a rider.

Listen, cowboy, how about you take your mother in the house?

He's wearing a funny hat.

I think it's your ranch hand, Mr. Coffey.

Anybody can wear a funny hat. That ain't Sunday riding.

Go on, take your mother inside.

Let's go, Dobie.

Go on.

Coffey, God damn it, I was having a picnic.

Indians... they killed...

There. It's from Mr. Clay.

They took Maryanne, took the whole family.

I can read.

Oh, Jesus.

Did the Indians kill them little Williams girls too?

No, looks like Mr. Williams did.

That's a hell of a thing to say.

If we're dealing with Crow or Ute,

Dobie could see things a boy shouldn't have to.

I've made up my mind, Will.

You've already lost a man to the Indians.

I don't want to risk another.

I don't have a man in this house.

I've got a boy.

Take him to Washburn Creek and bring him back.

Maybe then I'll have two.

- Them horses ready? - Yes, sir.

We're all set, Mr. Parcher.

Then let's get to it.

Mr. Parcher's lived through everything

this country could throw at him.

You stay close and mind him.

You'll be fine.

She should have bled out more.

Same with the girls.

Ida and Daphne.

I think those were their names.

You want to wait outside?

No.

Good.

I wonder

what kind of weapon makes a wound like that.

No scalping knife I know of.

Maybe some kind of chisel.

That gun only fires twice.

He would have had to have reloaded it

if he wanted to kill everybody.

Any Christian woman would prefer dying to capture.

Mr. Williams had time to reload

because his wife gave it to him.

If it came to that,

I hope you'd be strong enough

to take care of your mother.

I suppose a wild buffalo could have done this.

Looks like you've found yourself a hole in the ground there, Will.

That and four corpses

and six missing,

most of those being women and children.

I'll get the horses.

Hold up now.

It's in my command.

I gotta know who we're hunting.

How long have the Indians had them?

Near a day now.

Mm, well,

that's more than enough time for those women to have been...

Yes, so why aren't we on the trail?

You want to go face an Indian war party on your lonesome?

Those blanketheads will peel you like an orange, boy.

Follow along. We'll do this thing right.

Don't worry. We'll find them.

Hey, you all right?

We should be going after them.

You knew these people?

I do.

The Stewarts anyway.

That's Maryanne.

She yours?

I was working on her.

Alas! And did my Savior bleed

And did my Sovereign die?

Would He devote that sacred head

For such a worm as I?

Thy body slain

Sweet Jesus, Thine

And bathed in its own blood

While the firm mark of wrath divine

His soul in anguish stood.

Christ.

Who's Henry Victor's Indian?

That's Ten Bear, a Crow Indian.

The man's paid for his worth.

Hey, Walnut, Mr. Victor's canteen's dry.

He called you Walnut.

Yeah, he did.

Is that your name?

The name's Callaghan.

Callaghan.

You Irish?

That man that calls me Walnut believes he's better than me

'cause nobody ever owned him.

But I'm not enlisted.

I cook for Fort Lincoln, but I'm paid.

I can leave anytime I want. You understand?

Sure.

I'm Fergus Coffey.

Coffey.

You black?

Damnation.

What?

We're not gonna find any kidnapped wives at a reservation.

I know it.

We could set off on our own.

Might could, though it would only be four of us

to we don't know how many 'skins.

We have to find the Stewarts.

If we can do that with Henry Victor's help... fine. If not...

I guess you've had every chance to and ain't killed us yet.

Mr. Parcher.

Sorry, Dobie.

It must have stepped in a prairie-dog hole.

Listen, cowboy,

why don't you hump on ahead

and see how much further we're gonna press on before camp?