Hostiles

An adverb modifies a verb

by telling us how something's done,

where something's done,

- or when something's done. - When something's done.

Lucy.

The music played quietly.

And the adverb is?

- Quietly. - Quietly.

Sylvie.

The dog runs through the house.

Is right because...

It's explaining where the dog ran.

Is correct, but if you wanted to say how the dog ran...

- Quickly? - Quickly. Very good, girls.

Rosalie! Girls!

- They're coming. - Oh, dear God!

Mommy, what's happening?

There are people coming for our horses, sweetie.

Lucy, grab Jacob. Remember our plan.

Sylvie, get away from the door!

Grab Jacob's bear.

I'll meet you at the top of the ridge.

- Wesley, come with us. - If I don't,

they're gonna take it all or burn it down.

Let them. Please come.

- Daddy, please come. - Run for the door, girls.

Run for the door.

- Please come. - Rosalie, run.

- Go. Run, girls, run! Go! - Let's go, girls.

- Go! - Run, girls.

- Run! - Run!

Lucy, give me Jacob.

- Daddy! - Come on, girls.

- Wesley. No. - Daddy!

- (SCREAMS) - (ULULATING)

No!

Run. Run, girls.

Lucy! No!

I got it.

Hold her.

- I got him. Got him. - Come on, redskin.

Give up. Come on!

Come on now.

Come on, red.

Get up, boy.

Come on now.

- Get up. - Come on, red. Get up.

- Get him up. - Move now.

- I said move! - Get up.

- Hyah! - Come on.

Come on.

Looks like you got it, Joe.

Yeah.

How far did they get?

- (MAN SHOUTING) - (WOMAN CRYING)

Diablo Canyon.

- Apaches, huh? - Uh-huh.

Get up!

It's gotta be about the end of them, eh?

We think, but, like ants, they just keep coming.

Y'all escape, this is what happens.

Next time, we ain't bothering bringing you back.

It ought not to be this way, Joe.

Is there a better way, Tolan?

Getting tired, Joe.

I think I've reached the end of my sojourn.

They say I'm not fit.

Sort of have the...

The melancholia.

Mmm-hmm.

Well, there's no such thing.

Twenty years I gave this Union.

They took my guns, Joe.

You're out anyway.

Hmm.

What'd you give? Twenty? Twenty-five?

I stopped counting.

You remember that, uh...

That time when Kiowa put his war-lance in your belly?

Yeah.

You remember you were sitting there in the water...

just trying to hold your guts in there.

Hmm.

And I came by and you looked at me,

and you had that look on your face.

You looked so young.

Like somebody had taken something from you.

Like they had taken a Christmas present from you.

They took your fucking horse, yeah?

And we beated the hell out of it.

And you say...

"I see his face

and I'm gonna kill him one day."

And you did.

You did.

You ride him up in that blind path...

and you took that knife of yours

and you cut him from end to end.

Yes, I did.

Those were good days.

Yes, they were.

Those were...

Those were good days.

They were the best, Metz.

Morning, sir. Corporal Molinor here.

The colonel would like to see you.

- (DOOR OPENS) - (CHATTER)

- (KNOCKING ON DOOR) I'll get that.

- Yes? - Captain Blocker's here, sir.

- Morning, Captain. - Colonel.

You know Jeremiah Wilks here, of Harper's Weekly.

Sit down, Joe.

I understand you finally

run that escaped Apache bunch to ground.

- Sir. Mmm. - Well done.

Today, gentlemen, I don't know what we are going to do

with this... these wretched savages.

I have a suggestion.

Why don't you let them all go?

I mean, that would be the humane thing to do.

Wouldn't it? I see the captain disagrees.

Not my place to disagree.

Bet if you had your way, you'd keep them in chains.

That right, Blocker?

Don't matter to me what you do with them.

Now that I'm in your esteemed company,

Captain, I must ask,

it true you took more scalps than Sitting Bull himself?

That's what I hear, anyway.

- I don't care what you hear. Gentlemen.

I think that'll do.

Captain, you do know Chief Yellow Hawk?

You know I know him.

The chief and his family

have been prisoners for nearly seven years.

I'd say that's punishment enough,

wouldn't you?

There ain't enough punishment for his kind.

Is that right? - Damn right, it's right.

Let me ask you, Colonel.

You remember Billy Dixon? Probably not.

Billy was a very good friend of mine.

I knew him very well, as I do all the men here.

And I watched Yellow Hawk take a knife

and cut Billy from stem to stern.

And then he turned to my good friend

- Tully McClain... - Yes, well, Captain...

You're no angel your own self.

Hmm.

You know he's eat up with the cancer.

Mmm.

Well, the chief has asked for his release.

Wants to go home to Montana.

Some place called the Valley of the Bears.

- You know it? - I do.

Sacred Cheyenne territory.

After due deliberation and communication

with Washington, I've decided to honor that request.

Allow him and his people to go.

His release, it has become something of a...

What you might call a cause célèbre.

Back East.

The Department of the Army wants to be certain

that the chief gets there safely, without incident.

Why are you telling me this?

You speak as good a native dialect as anyone.

Know the trails between here and Montana as well as anyone.

- Do you not? - I've been over them some.

I'm assigning a detail

to accompany the chief and his people.

And, quite frankly, you're the only one

I can count on to get the job done right.

So, you will lead the party to Montana.

See the chief back to his homeland.

Arrange the others back on the reservation.

And from there you will cut off East

to Fort Mason for your mustering out.

With respect, sir, I'm not leading that cutthroat

and his brood of bastards and bitches anywhere.

I'm afraid it's an order.

I'm afraid I ain't obeying it. Sir.

You're retiring, are you not?

I'm sure you don't want to tarnish

your record at this late date

with a court-martial.

To tell you the truth, I don't give a damn.

Well, you do give a damn about your pension, don't you?

Let me tell you something, Captain.

Aside from losing one's mind,

there is very little to do for an old captain