1923

Vod2srt by Blue-Bird™

Wait!

Wait, just wait.

Hell is where you'll go if you do this, ma'am.

All right, take me to the nearest sheriff

and let him hang me.

That way you'll get your justice

without closing the gates of Heaven.

What do you know about Heaven?

Violence has always haunted this family.

It followed us from the Scottish Highlands

and the slums of Dublin.

It ravaged us upon the coffin ships of Ireland.

Stranded us on the beaches of New Jersey,

devoured us upon the battlefields

of Shiloh and Antietam.

And it followed us here--

lurking beneath the pines and in the rivers.

And where it doesn't follow, we hunt it down.

We seek it.

Hey.

Yep.

He is the one?

He's the one we tracked.

He is the one.

My father had three children.

Only one would live to see their own children grown.

Only one would carry the fate of this family

through the depression

and every other hell the 20th century hurled at them.

Upon my father's death,

my mother wrote to his brother

begging that he bring his family

to this wild land and save hers.

We should move 'em.

Move 'em where?

A year later he arrived to find my mother

frozen in a snow drift,

her two boys half starved and barely able to speak.

He raised them as his own,

then took my father's dream and made it into an empire.

Then the empire crumbled.

Prohibition now! Prohibition!

Don't go in there, sir. Don't drink that devil's drink.

Prohibition now! Prohibition for Montana.

Join us in our cause, ladies.

I pray you're here to shut down this den of degenerates.

- Sign says "soda shop". - Mm-hmm.

And the sign over the whore house says "dance hall".

You don't say.

Step inside those doors and your wife

will be the wiser, Commissioner.

She will be the wiser, sir!

Hey.

Guess it ain't started raining since I came in here.

Only thing it's raining is locusts.

Root beer for you?

I think I'll have a cola.

What if I did want a root beer, a real root beer?

Well, uh, then I'd say go to the drug store.

I'll have one of yours, then.

Them sheep herders are getting pretty worked up.

Only got themselves to blame.

Can't run sheep across another man's ground.

Lucky they didn't kill the sheep herders, as well.

Try to find a softer way of saying that in Town Hall, Jake.

How many deputies you got?

Not enough.

There's three hundred of them sons of bitches in the street

watching the boxing.

And taking notes, if you know what I mean.

Ain't worried about being boxed.

I'm worried about getting shot.

Bullies.

Bullies whining about the consequences

of the rules they broke.

Come on.

Let's get this over with.

Okay, fellas, let's go.

They killed our fucking sheep.

Littered the forest with 'em.

Left 'em to rot.

And what have you done about it?

Nothing!

We don't know who did it.

Everyone knows who did it.

It's those mick bastards right there.

Come say mick to my face, you fucking Jock.

I will, you paddy swine.

This is going well.

Sit down!

Or spend the night in a jail cell.

Sit down.

I deserve an answer.

You know the bastards who murdered my sheep

because you know who has the lease to where their bodies lay.

So, you admit you were on someone else's lease.

Sheep, they wander.

They don't know where one lease ends and another begins.

Then why have leases at all?

Sheep eat to the root.

They ruin the grass for cattle or anything else to eat.

One could argue you killed his livestock too,

it just took them longer to die.

Until it rains, there will be no grazing in the valley.

What grass there is in the mountains is all we have.

If you got too many sheep for your allotment, sell some.

Sell some?

Sell them to who?

The war's over. There's nobody to buy them.

We're all in the same boat.

I suggest we work together or that boat is headed back

to Britain with all of us.

We are all bunched together here

fighting for every blade of grass

while you have a whole mountain range to yourself.

You have the land, you have the lease, you have everything.

I have what my family fought for.

You want to fight me for it, too?

I didn't think so.

If you wanted more land you should have leased more.

Thought the goal was to calm them down, Jake.

That was your goal.

My goal is not to have a range war.

The sheepherder's waiting outside.

What do you want to do, Banner,

duke it out in the middle of the street?

Sheep are stock, too, don't you forget.

I'm a member just like the cattlemen--

Membership does not mean ignore the rules.

You grazed down all your grass then pushed your flock

on another man's grass.

The locust ate my grass.

The locust ate everyone's grass.

We're all suffering. Take your flock higher.

Then it's bears killing 'em instead of cowboys.

What can I say, Banner?

That's ranching for you.

Come on.

Four can't beat twelve, Jacob.

I'm not worried about the other eleven.

Just you.

Hey! God damn it.

I will not have this in my town!

That man is an agent of the state.

Threaten him again and you sleep on concrete for a month.

Understand?

Stealing a man's grass is like stealing his steers.

You graze another man's lease again

and I'll have your whole flock. And I am a man of my word.

Stealing grass.

Man doesn't own the grass.

The mountains own the grass.

God owns the grass.

And you're no god, Jacob Dutton.

You're no god!

I'd like to see what would happen

if cattle grazed his land.

He'd shoot 'em where he find 'em.

And bill the rancher for the bullet.

The McCloud moved most its horses into the Crazies.

Ain't a blade of grass from here to Miles City.

Can't sell 'em with these prices.

I don't see how a war ending

can cause such hell on the market.

Hell, all those soldiers came home.

They don't eat here, only overseas?

They're eating their own beef. They don't need to buy ours.

Why don't we graze the homesteader land?

Hell, bank owns all of that now.

I doubt they'd care.

I doubt they'd even know.

The bank always knows.

I've got the ground. It's high.

Bears and wolves will be plaguing us.

We'll have to sit with 'em all summer.

I say let's push the herds together, take 'em up there,

sit with them till the fall.

You know how many cowboys it's gonna take

to babysit a herd that size all summer?

I am aware.

I'm short of cowboys as it is.

You're gonna be short cattle if you don't get 'em to grass.

How we gonna feed 'em in the winter?

Let's get 'em through the summer, first.

I won't charge a lease,

but y'all band together and, uh, contract some hay.

I hear Oregon is free of the locust... for now.

I don't know, Jake. Half of mine are too weak to make the trip.

We'll push 'em slow.

Graze them along the river.

Push 'em up by the park.

Yeah. Well, if it weren't for the easy years

I wouldn't waste my time with the tough ones.

I been here since 1894, Clive.

I do not remember an easy year.

Do you?

No.

Yeah, all right! Whoa!

- Stay with him! - Woo!