Once Upon a Time in the West (1968) CD1
If you want any tickets,
you'll have to go round|to the front of...
Well, I suppose it'll be alright.
What the hell am I doing around here?
They walk in here and...
Let's see. I hope I got...
That'll be seven dollars...
..and 50 cents.
Frank sent us.
Did you bring a horse for me?
Well, looks like we're...
Looks like we're shy of one horse.
You brought two too many.
That's enough for now.|It's getting late. Come on home.
What you doing there?
Go inside, quick, and get washed.
And don't touch the apple pie|or the roast.
Patrick's already left|for the station.
He's getting ready, Pa.
- Damn it, Patrick!|- Coming, Pa.
Not bad, I'd say.
Bigger, them slices. What the hell?|We're throwing a party, ain't we?
But these are|the same slices as usual.
Soon, you can cut the bread in slices|as big as a door if you want to.
You'll have beautiful new clothes
and you won't have to work no more.
We're going to get rich, Pa?
Wait a minute!
Look at the filth on your boots.|Clean 'em.
The train'll come in and there|won't be no one to meet your mother.
Our mother died six years ago.
Go now, or you'll really be late.
Just a minute. Listen, Pa.|How will I recognise her?
You can't make no mistake, Patrick.
She's young and she's pretty|and she's a lady.
"For travelling,|I'll be wearing a black dress
and the same straw hat|that I was wearing when we met."
I'm gonna get|some fresh water from the well.
Oh, Danny boy
The pipes, the pipes are calling
And down the mountain side
The summer's gone
And all the roses fall...
What are we gonna do with this one,|Frank?
Now that you've called me by name...
- I saw some fine stock down south.|- That so?
And the prices are good.
- These your valises, ma'am?|- Yes.
- Come, Sarah.|- Bring them other two.
We'll tote 'em for you, ma'am.
Is that true?|The sawmill needs hands?
- Was yesterday.|- Why didn't you tell your brother?
- Hiya, Gramps.|- Hiya, Bill. We're back again.
Come on. Get a move on, will you?
Get the lead out of your asses,|you redskin warriors.
I got a whole train to unload.
Alright,|chuck down those feed sacks first.
What's the name|of the place you wanted to go?
Brett McBain's farm.
McBain? Yeah, sure.
That stubborn redheaded lrishman,
tilling sand for years|out in the middle of nowhere.
Sweetwater! Only a loony like him
could call that stinking piece|of desert Sweetwater.
A little more to the right.
Hold it there.
Here they are.|Even got here with their damn rails.
They caught up with us again,|eh, Lafayette? Let's go!
Slow down.|What's the matter with you?
Watch out down there!
Why are we stopping?|I told you I was in a hurry.
Don't the train stop?
What can I do for you, ma'am?
I would like some water,|if it's no trouble.
Water? That word is poison|around these parts
ever since the days|of the great flood.
- You mean you never wash?|- We sure do!
I'd like to use the same facilities|you people do.
You sure can. Just happen|to have a full tub at the back.
You're lucky. Only three people|have used it this morning.
Used it one at a time|or all together?
I can tell|you're accustomed to fine living.
Bet you come from|one of those big eastern cities.
- New Orleans.|- New Orleans!
- You've been there?|- No.
But I got a cousin down there.|She runs a bar.
You know, she...
Do you only know how to play|or do you know how to shoot?
Do you know|how to blow music from that?
Pick it up.
You don't know how to play.
Try this one.
Cheyenne.|We thought we'd never make it.
It's alright. You're right on time.
To bury my escort.
If I'd waited for you,|I'd be in jail by now.
You interested in fashions,|Harmonica?
I saw three of these dusters|a short time ago.
They were waiting for a train.
Inside the dusters,|there were three men.
Inside the men,|there were three bullets.
That's a crazy story, Harmonica.
For two reasons.
One, nobody around these parts
got the guts to wear those dusters|except Cheyenne's, man.
Two, Cheyenne's, man,|don't get killed.
That surprise you?
Well, you know music.
And you can count.|All the way up to two.
All the way up to six, if I have to.
And maybe faster than you.
Yeah, go on.
Play, so you can't bullshit.
Only, watch those false notes.
This cousin of mine keeps writing me|to come down to New Orleans.
"Come on down. Help me with the bar.|Make a pile of money."
I don't think|I'd get along in a big city.
It's too full|of fast men and loose women.
Begging your pardon, ma'am. No.
Now, I'm too used to|a quiet simple country life.
On the day...
On the very day of your wedding.
Poor little miss.
But we all... We thought...
It was to be a surprise today.
Brett McBain and I were married.
A month ago.
In New Orleans.
I am the resurrection and the life.
He who believeth in me, though|he were dead, yet shall he live.
Whosoever liveth and believeth in me|shall never die. Amen.
- Mr Bennett!|- What's he doing here?
I found this collar|on a nail by the door.
You got no way of knowing,|but this is as good as a signature.
- But why?|- Don't worry, Mrs McBain.
We'll make 'em tell us|before we hang 'em.
Let's get moving.
Come on.|Let's go back to Flagstone.
You go back.
You don't want|to stay out here alone.
This is my home.
You know, Wobbles,...
..I'm kinda mad at you.
Frank wasn't there.
He sent three friends.
I don't know nothing, I swear.
I only arranged the meeting|the way you wanted it.
I don't know why Frank wasn't there.
- I swear to you that l...|- Cos he was at the McBains'.
That's not true.|Cheyenne did that job.
Everyone knows that. We got proof.
That was always one|of Frank's tricks. Faking evidence.
I don't know. I swear.
I only arranged the meeting. I swear.
I don't know nothing.
Did you make coffee?
Didn't sleep a wink.
A pack of turds dressed in black|rode herd on me the whole damn night.
Yeah, but I left them|in the middle of the desert.
If they're lucky,|they'll be home in three days.
I'll do it. You fetch the coffee.
They want to hang me,|the big black crows.
What the hell?
I'll kill anything, but never a kid.
Be like killing a priest.
A Catholic priest, that is.
Yeah, the world is full of people|who hate Cheyenne.
See, I ain't|the mean bastard people make out.
Of course, if somebody|had a mind to kill me,...
..it fires me up.
And a fired-up Cheyenne...
..ain't a nice thing to see.
Especially for a lady.
But you're too smart to make him mad.
So this here's where I was|supposed to do all the killing?
Don't seem the place is worth a shit.
Now, if somebody gets dressed up|to look like me,...
..so they can hang this thing|around my neck,...
..I don't like it none.
But I can understand it.
What I don't understand is why.
Neither do l.
But I see you looked a lot|for the why.
What if there were|a whole heap of whys?
You know the kind.
You rap 'em on a stone,...
..and they go "ding".
But I didn't find them.
By the way,
you know anything about a man|going around playing a harmonica?
He's somebody you'd remember.
Instead of talking, he plays.
And when he'd better play, he talks.
You know, when you've killed four,|it's easy to make it five.
Sure. You're an expert.
Ma'am, it seems to me|you ain't caught the idea.
Of course I have.
I'm here alone in the hands|of a bandit who smelled money.
If you want to, you can lay me|over the table and amuse yourself.
And even call in your men.
Well, no woman ever died from that.
When you're finished, all I'll need|will be a tub of boiling water,
and I'll be exactly|what I was before.
With just another filthy memory.
You make good coffee, at least.
Tell me, was it necessary|that you kill all of them?
I only told you to scare them.
People scare better|when they're dying.
And can you tell me|what good was your stupid massacre?
Now, a Mrs McBain has turned up.
So, I didn't expect that.|It happens in business.
Let's say|this is something I didn't plan on.
I have no time for surprises, Frank.
You know that.
I got on board|in sight of the Atlantic,
and before my eyes rot,
I want to see the blue of the Pacific|outside that window.
I know where you got on board.
I was there, too, remember.
To remove small obstacles|from the track, you said.
Well, there were a few.
But we travelled a long way,|just the same.
Even tuberculosis of the bones|travels fast.
Don't play the sick man with me,|Mr Morton.
I knew you|when you were just barely limping.
I watch that dry rot|rise a little more every day.
Any normal man'd|put a bullet in his brain.
But you,|you just got a little more hasty.
Otherwise you ain't changed any.
I'd say you've changed, Frank.
You used to take care|of certain things personally.
Now, you're keeping|in the background.
You'll end up giving orders.
It's because, now, I don't want|to leave you alone too much.
You're gonna need somebody more|and more every day to stay near you.
- Like a friend.|- Or like a partner.
How does it feel|sitting behind that desk, Frank?
It's almost like holding a gun.
Only much more powerful.
You see, staying with you, l...
..I'm beginning to think big, too.
This McBain business...
..has given me ideas.
I'm sorry for you, Frank.
You're doing your best.
You'll never succeed|in becoming like me.
Because there are many things|you'll never understand.
This is one of them.
You see, Frank,|there are many kinds of weapons.
And the only one|that can stop that is this.
Now, shall we get back|to our little problem?
My weapons might look simple to you,|Mr Morton,
but they can still shoot holes|big enough for our little problems.
Pretty soon the widow McBain|won't be a problem no more.
You wake up one morning and say,|"World, I know you."
"From now on,|there are no more surprises."
And then you happen to meet|a man like this,
who looked like a good man.
Clear eyes, strong hands.
And he wants to marry you.
Which doesn't happen often.
And he says he's rich, too,|which doesn't hurt.
So you think,|"The hell with New Orleans."
"Now I'll say yes|and go live in the country."
"l wouldn't mind giving him|half a dozen kids after all."
"Take care of a house. Do something.|What the hell?"
Well, God rest your soul,|Brett McBain.
Even if he's going to have a job|pulling you out of the devil's grip.
Still, I swear|he'd left money around someplace.
If you can find it,|you're welcome to it.
Mrs McBain goes back to civilisation.
Minus a husband|and plus a great future.
You deserve better.
The last man who told me that|is buried out there.
You know, Jill,|you remind me of my mother.
She was the biggest whore|in Alameida
and the finest woman that ever lived.
Whoever my father was,|for an hour or for a month,...
..he must have been a happy man.
What do you want?
Cheyenne's right. Once you've killed|four, it's easy to make it five.
This isn't the time to leave.
Give me some water.
From the well.
I like my water fresh.
When you hear a strange sound,|drop to the ground.
A sound? Like what?
He not only plays, he can shoot, too.
Morning, Mrs McBain.
- What brings you to town?|- Good morning.
Maybe you don't remember,|but yesterday at the funeral...
I remember very well.
Is there something I can do for you?
See Frank.|And tell him I know everything.
Why is everybody hounding me|about this guy Frank?
I don't know him.|I've never heard of him.
I got my own worries, and all I want|is to be left in peace.
Tell Frank I want to negotiate|with him. Personally.
You were told|not to come here for any reason.
Whatever business you have with|Frank, keep it far away from here.
I know, but when I heard that woman|say she knew everything,
I thought I should come over here|and tell you about it.
You never thought it wasn't a trick?
Sure, but you know|I'm mighty careful.
No one could have followed me.
That's the first thing I learned,|working for you.
To listen unseen|and to watch unheard.
You should learn|to live as if you didn't exist.
You've known me a long time, Frank.
You know you can trust me.
How can you trust a man who wears|both a belt and suspenders?
The man|can't even trust his own pants.
Let's get out of here.
The end of the line.
Get him on board.
Tie him up.
So, nobody followed you?
No. You gotta believe me.
So, this is the way I can trust you.
I can explain.|I didn't know that he...
- Get out.|- No, Frank.
I told you to keep quiet.
Did Logan and Jim|take care of the woman?
Someone took care of them.
We found them out at McBain's place.
Stone dead.|And the woman was gone.
Your friends|have a high mortality rate, Frank.
First three, then two.
So you're the one|who makes appointments.
And you're the one|who doesn't keep 'em.
What do you want?
Who are you?
Dave Jenkins is dead a long time ago.
What's your name?|Benson's dead, too.
You ought to know better than anyone.
You killed 'em.
Who are you?
- Who are you, you...|- Frank!
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