True Grit

People do not give it credence that a young girl could leave home

and go off in the wintertime to avenge her father's blood.

But it did happen.

I was just 14 years of age when a coward by the name of Tom Chaney

shot my father down

and robbed him of his life and his horse

and two California gold pieces he carried in his trouser band.

Chaney was a hired man

and Papa had taken him up to Fort Smith

to help lead back a string of Mustang ponies he'd bought.

In town, Chaney had fallen to drink and cards

and lost all his money.

He got it into his head he was being cheated

and went back to the boarding house for his Henry rifle.

When Papa tried to intervene, Chaney shot him.

Chaney fled.

He could have walked his horse,

for not a soul in that city could be bothered to give chase.

No doubt Chaney fancied himself scat-free.

But he was wrong.

You must pay for everything in this world, one way and another.

There is nothing free, except the grace of God.

All right!

Is that the man?

That is my father.

If you would like to kiss him, it would be all right.

He's gone home. Praise the Lord.

Why is it so much?

The quality of the casket and of the embalming.

The lifelike appearance requires time and art.

And the chemicals come dear. The particulars are in your bill.

If you'd like to kiss him, it would be all right.

Thank you. The spirit has flown.

Your wire said $50.

You did not specify that he was to be shipped.

Well, $60 is every cent we have. It leaves nothing for our board.

Yarnell, you can see to the body's transport to the train station

and accompany it home. I will have to sleep here tonight.

I still have to collect father's things and see to some other business.

Your mama didn't say nothing about you seeing to no business here.

It is business Mama doesn't know about. It's all right, Yarnell. I dismiss you.

- I'm not sure... - Tell Mama not to sign anything

until I return home and see that Papa is buried in his Mason's apron.

Your terms are agreeable if I may pass the night here.

Here? Among these people?

These people?

I'm expecting three more souls.

Sullivan, Smith,

and His Tongue In The Rain.

Ladies and gentlemen, beware and train up your children

in the way that they should go.

You see what has become of me because of drink.

I killed a man in a trifling quarrel over a pocketknife.

If I had have received good instruction as a child...

- Can you point out the sheriff? - Him with the moustaches.

...I would be with my wife and children today.

I do not know what is to become of them.

But I hope and pray that you will not slight them

and compel them to go into low company.

Stop whimpering, boy!

Well, I killed the wrong man is the which-of-why I'm here.

Had I killed the man I meant to, I don't believe I'd have been convicted.

I see men out there in that crowd is worse than me.

Okay.

Before I am hanged, I would like to say...

No, we ain't arrested him.

Ain't caught up to him. He lit out for the Territory.

I would think that he's throwed in with Lucky Ned Pepper,

whose gang robbed a mail hack yesterday on the Poteau River.

Why are you not looking for him?

I have no authority in the Indian Nation.

Tom Chaney is the business of the U.S. marshals now.

- When will they arrest him? - Not soon, I'm afraid.

The marshals are not well staffed, and I'll tell you frankly,

Chaney is at the end of a long list of fugitives and malefactors.

Could I hire a marshal to pursue Tom Chaney?

You have a lot of experience with bounty hunters, do you?

That is a silly question. I am here to settle my father's affairs.

- All alone? - I am the person for it.

Mama was never any good at sums and she could hardly spell "cat".

I intend to see Papa's killer hanged.

Well, nothing prevents you from offering a reward and so informing the marshals.

It would have to be real money, though, to be persuasive.

Chaney is across the river in the Choctaw Nation.

I will see to the money. Who's the best marshal?

I would have to weigh that.

William Waters is the best tracker.

He's half Comanche and it is something to see him cut for sign.

The meanest is Rooster Cogburn.

He is a pitiless man, double tough, and fear don't enter into his thinking.

He loves to pull a cork.

The best is probably L.T. Quinn.

He brings his prisoners in alive.

He may let one slip by now and again

but he believes that even the worst of men is entitled to a fair shake.

Where can I find this Rooster?

The jakes is occupied.

I know it is occupied, Mr Cogburn. As I said, I have business with you.

I have prior business.

You have been at it for quite some time, Mr Cogburn.

There is no clock on my business!

To hell with you! How did you stalk me here?

The sheriff told me to look in the saloon.

In the saloon, they referred me here. We must talk.

Women ain't allowed in the saloon.

I was not there as a customer. I am 14 years old.

Well, the jakes is occupied.

Will be for some time.

Good evening.

If you would like to sleep in a coffin, it would be all right.

How much are you paying for cotton?

Nine and a half for low middling and ten for ordinary.

We got most of ours out early.

Sold it to the Woodson Brothers in Little Rock for 11 cents.

Then I suggest you take the balance of it to the Woodson Brothers.

We took the balance to Woodson.

We got ten and a half.

Why did you come here to tell me this?

I thought we might shop around up here next year,

but I guess we're doing all right in Little Rock.

I'm Mattie Ross.

Daughter of Frank Ross.

A tragic thing.

May I say your father impressed me with his manly qualities.

He was a close trader but he acted the gentleman.

Well, I propose to sell those ponies back to you that my father bought.

That, I fear, is out of the question.

I will see that they're shipped to you at my earliest convenience.

We don't want the ponies now. We don't need 'em.

Well, that hardly concerns me.

Your father bought the ponies and paid for them

and there is an end of it. I have the bill of sale.

And I want $300 for Papa's saddle horse that was stolen from your stable.

You'll have to take that up with the man who stole the horse.

Tom Chaney stole the horse while it was in your care. You are responsible.

I admire your sand

but I believe you will find I'm not liable for such claims.

You were the custodian. If you were a bank and were robbed,

you could not simply tell the depositors to go hang.

I do not entertain hypotheticals. The world as it is is vexing enough.

Secondly, your valuation of the horse is high by about $200. How old are you?

If anything, my price is low.

Judy is a fine racing mare.

I've seen her jump an eight-rail fence with a heavy rider. I'm 14.

Well, that's all very interesting.

The ponies are yours. Take them.

Your father's horse was stolen by a murderous criminal.

I had provided reasonable protection for the creature

as per our implicit agreement.

My watchman had his teeth knocked out and can take only soup.

- I will take it to law. - You have no case.

Lawyer J. Noble Daggett of Dardanelle, Arkansas may think otherwise,

as might a jury, petitioned by a widow and three small children.

I will pay $200 to your father's estate

when I have in my hand a letter from your lawyer

absolving me of all liability from the beginning of the world to date...

I will take $200 for Judy,

plus $100 for the ponies and $25 for the grey horse that Tom Chaney left.

He was easily worth $40.

That is $325 total.

The ponies have no part in it. I will not buy them.

Then the price for Judy is $325.

I would not pay $325 for a winged Pegasus!

As for the grey horse, it does not belong to you.

The grey horse was lent to Tom Chaney by my father.

Chaney only had the use of him.

I will pay $225 and keep the grey horse.

- I don't want the ponies. - I cannot accept that.

There will be no settlement after I leave this office. It will go to law.

All right, this is my last offer.

$250.

For that I get the release previously discussed

and I keep your father's saddle.

The grey horse is not yours to sell.

The saddle is not for sale. I will keep it.

Lawyer Daggett will prove ownership of the grey horse.

He will come after you with a writ of replevin.

- A what? - A writ of replevin.

All right, now listen very carefully, as I will not bargain further.

I will take the ponies back, and the grey horse, which is mine,

and settle for $300.

Now, you must take that or leave it and I do not much care which it is.

Lawyer Daggett would not wish me to consider anything under $325.

But I will settle for $320 if I am given the $20 in advance.

Now, here is what I have to say about that saddle.

Frank Ross's daughter.

Oh, my poor child.

My poor child.

Are you gonna be stayin' with us or are you hurrying back home to your mama?

I'll stay here if you can have me.

I just spent last night at the undertaker's in the company of three corpses.

I felt like Ezekiel in the Valley of the Dry Bones.

Well, God bless you.

You'll be rooming with Grandma Turner.

We've had to double up,

what with all the people in town come to see the hanging.

This was in your poor father's room.

That is everything. There are no light fingers in this house.

If you need something for to tote the gun around,

I can give you an empty flour sack for a nickel.