The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp

Though the war ended in 1865,

there were sections of the land

where passions were still flaming in '74.

And Wyatt Earp, as Marshal of Ellsworth, Kansas,

finds himself embroiled with cowmen

of strong, strong views about that war.

Marshal Earp! Marshal Earp!

- Here, here! - Wait a minute!

Stop it, stop it!

Stop it!

Hold it!

I'll shoot the next man that moves.

You're all under arrest.

There's a law that says you got to check your guns, and you know that.

Mike, take their guns and send 'em to jail.

Everybody put their guns on the table here.

Move. Move!

I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Earp.

Five minutes more, and they wouldn't have left me anything.

They'll have to pay for it, Mrs. Danaher.

- Help Mike take 'em to jail. - Yes, sir. Let's go.

A Sherry, Mr. Larsen.

I know you don't drink, Marshal,

but a bit of wine would calm my Irish temper.

What started all the trouble, Ma'am?

They're still fighting the War between the States.

All those cowhands were Southern men.

They wanted me to move General Lee from my parlor in here.

- General Lee? - A picture of him.

They called her a traitor.

- You better clean up. - Yes, Ma'am.

I can't understand it, Mr. Earp.

My dear departed husband was a Confederate veteran.

He died last year. God rest him.

Len wanted to forget the war.

So do I.

Well, Ma'am, folks aren't all that sensible.

These men that drive the cattle up from the South,

they still carry the Stars and Bars.

Why is that?

Some of our Yankee politicians weren't good winners.

They rubbed it in every way they knew how.

Give a cowhand a pint of whiskey,

and, well, he starts remembering his grievances.

But am I the one to pay on that account, Mr. Earp?

No, Ma'am. I'll collect the damages for you.

- Mr. Larsen. - Yes, sir?

How much do you think it'll cost to put this place back into order?

Two or three thousand.

- Three thousand, huh? - Don't be asking a Swede.

1,500 is the Irish of it.

Mrs. Danaher, this is business.

1,500, Mr. Earp.

I'll see that you get it. I'll have a talk with Judge Miller.

Lord love you, Mr. Earp.

Good day, Ma'am.

All right, men, stand up. Judge Miller.

Take your hats off.

You men are charged with drunkenness

and malicious destruction of property.

I suppose that's your idea of fun...

Wrecking a poor widow's only inheritance.

Just a minute, Judge. We got something to say about this.

Order in the court.

Marshal Earp, what's your recommendation here?

I think between them they ought to be fined $1,500,

and stay in jail until they pay it.

Sure, that's Yankee justice.

Order.

The court fines you $1,500, prorated.

You'll be held in jail until payment.

Deputy Teague, remove the prisoners.

All right, men. This way.

Go on.

Marshal Earp...

This is Marsh Murdock, a newspaper man from Wichita.

- We've been friends for a long time. - Hello, Mr. Murdock.

Glad to know you, Mr. Earp.

I came here on business.

Mighty important business for you, Wyatt.

It's such an opportunity that I can't stand in your way.

I'll see you later, Marsh.

- And I hope he turns you down. - I hope not, Ed.

Miller seems to think you're going to be the best Marshal in the west.

Well, Ed's my friend.

Your friend, but also a newspaper man.

We learn to size up men pretty well.

I'll come to the point. How would you like to be Marshal of Wichita?

Wichita?

That's a... That's a mighty big job.

Too big?

Well, I don't know, uh...

Wichita ranks with Dodge City for size and trouble.

It'll be worse when the railhead moves in.

I'm laying all my cards on the table.

How'd you happen to hear about me?

You're better known than your modesty allows you to think.

What really brought me here was a chance remark in Ed's last letter.

- Oh? - He said you know

how to handle Southern cowhands.

Well, I have had to make quite a study of 'em,

but I...

Uh... Mr. Murdock,

I always think better when I'm walking.

Would you mind getting a little sun?

Not at all. Good idea.

You know, getting along with Southerners is our big problem.

Bill Hickok let some Texas men

run in over him last week and had to quit.

And with Sheriff Smith retired,

we have to start all over.

I heard that Hickok's a might too quick on the trigger.

Wild Bill didn't have the intelligence to reason with cowhands.

He shot 'em.

They take a lot of patience.

I can't say I'm any too well liked by 'em.

No Northern peace officer's going to be liked.

The best he can do is convince the Johnny Rebs

that he means to be just and fair.

That and understanding their pride.

Pride?

Yeah, it seems to me that's the key to it.

Just about all the war left them was their pride.

That's true.

You've heard folks speak about it as a foolish pride,

but I've never held for that.

You see, I got two brothers that fought for the North,

and they tell me that Southerners have every right to be proud.

They fought real well.

They sure did.

When I took this job here, I made up my mind I'd never shoot a cowhand

if there was any other way out of it.

You mean there are other ways?

Well, I hit 'em with my fists a little,

or buffalo 'em over the head with my gun barrel.

It's a lot more effective than shooting 'em.

You take an awful risk, though.

You buffalo a cowhand, and all he has is a headache.

But if you shoot him, well...

A lot of fellows can say to themselves it wasn't a fair fight,

and then they lay in for you.

You're right.

What happens if the cowhands decide to stay in jail?

Who's going to pay for that work?

Well, then we'll all chip in.

But I think they'll pay for it.

What makes you so sure?

Well, a cowhand hates to spend much time in jail.

It hurts their pride.

What happens if they can't raise the 1,500?

Well, then their bosses will pay for it.

- Hurts their pride, too. - Pride?

I never thought of the cowhand problem in just that way.

You're the man for the job in Wichita.

We can pay you $250 a month.

Nominally, you'll serve under the new sheriff Todd,

but you'll be in charge of law enforcement.

Well, what do you say?

Well... Bat Masterson will want to come with me,

but he's going to have to go to school.

Ed Miller isn't too happy about my leaving.

No, but he realizes, with the railhead moving on to Wichita,

this town will change from a cowhand whoop-de-do

to a normal community.

Well, I'd...

- Are you Wyatt Earp? - That's right.

- Where's Judge Miller? - Who are you?

Ramser's the name. Kirby Ramser.

You got some of my men in jail.

We want to talk to you and the Judge in private.

All right.

First, ride over to the jail and check your guns with my deputy.

I think not, sir.

How is that for Yankee impudence?

There's nothing Yankee or impudent about it, Mr. Ramser.

It's a City Ordinance.

Why, of all things,

- aren't you Captain Ramser? - Madam.

You wouldn't be remembering me?

I'm Mary Danaher, Len's wife.

Ah, yes. Running this tavern, I believe.

I was, Captain, but a bunch of pesky cowhands

just about put me out of business this morning.

Heard about that. Turned Yankee lover, didn't you?

Why, Captain,

you and my husband were great friends.

You were his captain.

You know I wouldn't...

Very welcome you are,

you and your friend. I'd like to honor...

No, thank you. Good day, madam.

Hold it.

I meant what I said about the guns.

All right. Find Judge Miller.

We haven't any time to waste.

I'll be apologizing for the captain, Mr. Earp.

He never used to be like that.

It's the captain that should apologize to you, Ma'am.

I got to go find Ed Miller,

see what this is all about.