The Son

Tom Sullivan was family to me,

to us.

I grew up being rocked on his knee,

sitting in front of him on his horse.

And daddy was gone most of the time,

so it was tom who taught my brothers and... and me

how to ride and shoot.

And I can't think of a single good time

I ever had on this ranch that didn't involve that man.

I mean, he was there when... When Sally and I got married...

Amen.

...was there when the kids were born.

I watched you guys grow up on his knee just like I did.

He was there for all the bad times as well.

Yes, he was.

He was there that day

the apache killed my... My mother and my brother.

He was the reason Phineas and I survived.

He fought like a mother bear to protect us.

Quite a soldier.

He saved us...

Nobody better.

...and I couldn't save him.

And some of you might say to me, "well, Peter, he forgives you."

Right now he's living in a place

where the streams run clear...

...and the grass is up to your chest,

- the horses never get tired. - That's right.

That's right.

I don't know if any of that is real.

I used to think someone was watching over us,

but these days, when I look around,

I'm not sure about that.

I'm finished.

Please, carry on, brother.

Of course. Can I go, too?

No, you give me a moment with your daddy.

There's a good girl.

A reading from revelation.

"And I heard a voice from heaven saying,"

blessed are the dead

"who die in the lord from now on."

Perhaps you should go away for a spell.

Go up to Austin, see your wife.

I don't think that's a good idea.

I'm not a source of comfort for her.

It ain't her I'm worried about.

Your children need a daddy.

This ranch needs a leader.

So whatever it takes to get your head right,

you better do it.

Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.

Indians, right?

Apache.

You know this story?

Daddy says I'm not allowed to hear it all till I'm older.

Well, you look old enough to me.

¶¶

It was 1881.

Your daddy was about 4 or 5.

There hadn't been an Indian raid for a long while,

so I thought we were safe.

I'd gone up to Wichita on some cattle business,

and when I'd got back,

Sullivan had buried your grandmother and your uncle Everett.

However...

He did save your daddy and uncle Phineas.

I took some vaqueros, and we hunted down

that band of apaches and killed them.

All of them?

Well, not exactly.

There was one survivor, a young boy.

The last of his kind.

After it was over, we headed back home.

When we got to the river, we saw that that apache boy

had been following us with his bow.

For 20 miles,

he kept up with men on horseback.

For 20 miles, he'd been running to his death.

A child like that...

A child like that

would've been worth a thousand men today.

Where is he now?

I left him standing at the riverbank.

Far as I know, he's looking for me yet.

¶¶

We are living in a historic moment, gentlemen.

You will tell your children and grandchildren

about this terrible time of violence.

No, thanks. No, thank you, darling.

So the piano player turns out to be her husband

and he had a shotgun.

Tom busts out of there, buck naked,

and ran all the way back through the ranch.

Oh, I must've spent half the night

picking burrs out of that man's ass.

The mark of a true friend.

To tom Sullivan, may he rest in peace.

Hear, hear.

How are you holding up?

Ah.

Not great, obviously.

Do you wanna talk about it?

Maria...

Sí, papá.

Sorry for your loss. Thank you, sir.

Our house is destroyed,

our brother's gunned down, and yet, we prevail.

We must mourn tom Sullivan

as we find strength in ourselves.

We all have a responsibility

to ensure this never, ever happens again.

Excuse me.

Damn shame what those sediciosos did to this find house of yours.

I'm more worried about my brother.

Like I said, damn shame.

Which one is Ramon?

He's right there.

What'd Ramon do?

He helped the sediciosos.

Led them to this very doorstep.

He's having a high old time, ain't he?

He shouldn't be here. Well...

Maybe somebody oughta tell him that.

Hey, Ramon, y'all probably ought to get goin'.

What's wrong?

Do I gotta spell it out?

I've known Sully a long time, Charles.

If I could take that bullet for him, I would've done it.

Bullshit.

Browns stick with brown.

The sediciosos held me at gunpoint.

I led them in circles until we ran into the colonel.

Of course that's what you say now.

Hey, this is the whiskey talkin'.

Let's all stay calm.

It's okay. His house.

I know you ain't walking away

from colonel McCullough's grandson

when he's talking to you.

Out of the way, Louis.

I prefer "sir."

I don't say "sir" to your kind.

You better watch yourself, son.

¶¶

Hey! I said knock it off.

Step back! Get back! Keep your place!

What the hell's going on here?

We were set upon by your men.

Your son showed great potentiality for heroism.

Niles!

Time to go.

He should be rightly lauded.

I want you to apologize to Ramon.

That's not necessary, Mr. Pete. It was an accident.

Oh, no. Our men are family.

That's... that's how we treat 'em.

I want you to apologize.

Now.

Listen to your daddy.

I apologize, Ramon.

¶¶

Shit.

Help! Help me!

Help me. What the hell's going on here?

The comanches got me. They killed my family.

Are they still around? They following you?

No. I left them a few days ago. They think I'm dead.

Don't worry, kid. We'll keep you safe.

You hurt?

No.

All right, well, come on.

You're welcome to join our little camp.

Take a load off your dogs.

This'll be ready in a few minutes.

Come on, sit down, get some food in you.

Don't worry, kid. It'll be all right.

¶¶

You're safe now.

Mister, you better run.

I'm serious.

Oh!

You little son of a bitch!

Grab your rifles!

Aah!

I'm a Christian. I have god on my side.

What're you doing?

Goddamn savages.

¶¶

You've earned this, tiehteti.

We eat this winter because of you.

You did good.

No. What are you doing? What are you doing?!

No! Please, no. No!

I'm Eli.

People here call me tiehteti.

It means "pathetic white boy."

You should eat something.

Starving yourself just makes it worse.

Whether you eat or not, they expect you to work.