01x15 - Rich Man's Son

[bunniefuu]

♪ [humming]

♪ Wyatt Earp, Wyatt Earp

♪ Brave, courageous,

and bold ♪

♪ Long live his fame

and long live his glory ♪

♪ And long may his

story be told ♪

♪ [humming]

[Narrator]

When Wyatt Earp was marshal

of Wichita, Kansas in ,

one of the serious problems

with which he had to deal

was the runaway boy

from the East.

Hundreds of such youngsters,

incited by lurid dime novels

about cowboys,

Indians, and outlaws,

left their homes

in eastern towns and cities

for the wild, exciting life

of the Western Frontier.

If today's comic books

have a bad effect

on many juvenile readers,

they are mild compared

to the bloody sensationalism

of paperback thrillers,

which lured the youth

of earlier times

to seek adventure

in the brawling violence

of cattle trail and cow town.

[all yelling]

[g*nf*re]

Hold it!

Break it up, there!

All right, hold it!

Get the g*n!

Come out of there!

[g*nsh*t]

Why, you little punk.

Are you using real b*ll*ts?

I got me several

of that Lazy H outfit.

Oh, you did, huh?

Well, they all seem

to be standing up.

You the sheriff, mister?

No, I'm the marshal.

Who are you?

My name's Tim Jones.

I'm with the Bar Ws.

We had our loading

orders first,

then those Lazy Hs

tried to jump our claim.

You took a shot at me.

Well, I didn't

see your star.

I thought you were a Lazy H.

I don't sh**t at the law.

Now that's real

considerate of you.

Come on.

[Men shouting]

Was he sh**ting?

Yeah, without

a license.

This one's sober.

We'll take him back to town

with the rest of them.

Does a cowhand get

a fair trial in this town,

or do they lynch him?

Your size, we spank.

Anybody get hurt?

No. They're too drunk

to get hurt, most of 'em.

I wish people would

keep their kids at home.

I got another Desperate

Desmond on my hands.

Runaway boy, huh?

Yeah.

It's a wonder he didn't

ping somebody or hurt himself.

Is this the kid's?

Yeah.

This is the worst yet.

They're coming west

by the hundreds.

We've had at least

a couple of dozen

in the last few months.

Can't you get something

in the Eastern papers about it?

I've tried, Wyatt.

I think it's just

normal kid behavior.

In fact, they're

rather proud.

Proud? Proud of what?

Young America,

the spirit of the pioneers--

you know the line.

Well, I've got

something to show you.

Sam.

Sam, bring that young

Tim Jones in, will you?

Now the "spirit

of the pioneers" is fine.

But I have yet to see

a runaway kid with a hoe.

They all want

to be gunfighters.

It's those dime novels

they read.

Ned Buntline and his

daredevil of the plains.

Yeah, written by men that have

never been west of Albany.

I wish they could see

what it does

to some of their readers.

Well, take a good look

at him, Mr. Murdock.

Young America.

Hey, are you the judge?

No, that's Mr. Murdock.

He happens to be the editor

of the Wichita Eagle.

Hey, I don't want my name

or my picture in the paper.

Well, don't worry,

you're not that important.

Now go sit down.

Where do your folks live?

Haven't any folks.

Who's your relatives?

No relatives.

Just write it down

that I'm a cowpuncher

working for

the Bar W outfit.

The Bar W outfit

doesn't hire kids.

You jumped off

a freight train.

I don't want any more

fresh talk from you.

I've got to send you home.

Where is that?

None of your business.

Don't get sassy

with Mr. Earp, kid.

Okay.

I'm a homeless

juvenile vagrant.

I'm an orphan without

any means of support.

That's too bad.

We'll, uh, have to

put him up for adoption.

Yeah.

Mr. Bodine at the dairy

would like to have

another orphan.

cows to milk twice a day,

only three kids

to do it.

Think you're tough

enough for that?

Well, I want to be a cowhand.

You know, ride the range,

punch cows.

You can milk cows

at the dairy.

No. If my father

were here, he'd--

You just turn me loose.

You do have a father, huh?

No, I don't.

Bend over the desk.

What?

You heard me.

I said bend over the desk.

No! Ow!

Wait, I'll tell ya!

All right.

My father is

Timothy Jones, Sr.

He lives in

the Fifth Avenue Hotel

in New York City.

New York, huh?

You've come a long way.

I'll send a wire

for you, Wyatt.

Thanks.

We should hear

in a few hours.

My father'll fix you

for using corporal

punishment on me.

No one's allowed

to do that.

You're just a Big Country

Jake Sheriff.

You're a spoiled brat.

At least you might

as well start learning.

Learnin' what?

To be a cowhand,

that's what you came

west for, isn't it?

Yeah.

Where do we go now?

We're going to

a little cowhand school.

I run it just

for boys like you.

Now the first thing

a cowhand has to learn

is how to ride a horse.

I already know.

Oh, you do, huh?

Sure.

Come here.

It's on this side.

Turn him loose.

All right, Mr. Jones.

You all right?

Yeah.

I'll show him.

No, I think

you had enough.

I want to try him again.

All right, but this time,

keep your heels

out of his flank.

[cow mooing]

[grunting]

Stayed on him that time

a longer time.

You want to try him again?

No. That horse

doesn't like me.

Well, we'll forget about

riding for the time being.

Cowhand's got to learn

how to rope.

That's a lasso.

Give it here.

I'll show you

how to bust a steer.

Oh?

First, you tie

one end of the rope

around your waist.

Then, you open the loop

at the end, like this.

Uh-huh.

That's good.

Now you stay right here,

and I'll go get a steer

and let him out of the chute.

You can rope him.

How big a steer?

Oh, just about your size.

Those aren't steers.

Those are calves,

little dogies.

Well, you just go ahead

and try and rope 'em.

I'll show ya.

Mr. Jones, you're aiming

at the wrong end.

Come here.

You go up and climb up

on that fence over there,

and drop the loop

over their head.

That's not the proper

way to do it.

That's the proper way

for a cowhand on foot.

Now you go climb up.

Okay.

Go on.

Are you all set?

Yeah.

I'll shoo one

by for you.

Come on, dogie.

Go on!

Ow, it burns my hands.

[laughing]

Untie the rope.

Whoa, boy.

Now, let's see.

First, you tie the rope

around your waist--

Well, I thought that was

the way you did--

You can't rope

and your can't ride.

What can you do?

I'm tired and I'm hungry.

Well, a good cowhand

can always eat.

But you're a little dirty.

Got to get you

scrubbed up first.

Oh, no.

Oh, yes.

This water's too cold.

I'll catch pneumonia.

It's good for you.

No!

It's too cold!

Aah!

Now you know what that is?

A farm tool of some kind.

In Kansas,

we call it a hoe.

This is what

you do with it.

Now you try it.

Not me.

That's hard labor.

No work, no eat.

But it has nothing to do

with being a cowhand.

They don't chop down

weeds with hoes.

Yes, they do.

And they clean the corrals

with pitchforks, too.

They squat on dirty cows

and burn their hide

with a branding iron.

Hard labor.

Well, you ought to see

what they look like

after a week of riding

in the brush

and alkali dust

on a round-up.

They stink, Mr. Jones.

I got no more time

to waste on you.

Go buy your lunch

from the jailer.

Hi, Marshal.

Hi, Sam.

Message came a while ago

from Mr. Murdock.

Uh-huh.

That New York business.

Well, read it

to me, will you?

"No Timothy Jones registered

at Fifth Avenue Hotel."

Thanks.

Mr. Jones.

Come on in here.

Now we may be Country Jakes,

but at least we try

and tell the truth.

I've even taken the word

of an outlaw k*ller

like Ben Thompson,

and he kept it.

But I can't take yours.

There's nobody registered

by the name of Timothy Jones

at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.

They've never heard of him.

All right, go ahead.

No.

I'd rather be spanked

than listen to you call me

a liar and no-good brat.

All right, then.

What's your father's

real name?

I'm not going to tell you.

Why not?

You'll telegraph him,

then he'll send

detectives after me.

I'm not going home.

I hate it there.

All right,

you hate your home.

I still have to know

where you live.

Look, I obeyed ya.

I took a bath.

I tried to stay on

that horse.

I got dragged by a dogie

and I hoed weeds.

That's more than I did

for anybody else.

Now I'm through with you.

Mr. Jones.

Sit down.

You happen to be a runaway boy,

and the law says

it's my job to get you home.

Do you understand that?

You can't do that if I won't

tell you where I live.

All right.

Take this note

over to the clerk

at the Texas House.

Here's the key to my room.

Get yourself a bite to eat,

and you stay at the hotel.

Tim.

When I get off work,

we'll have a long talk.

When'll that be?

or , maybe later.

Now, I'm trusting you

to stay there.

I'll run away.

No, you won't.

How you figure that?

Well, most kids

want to be good.

You can't be any different

from the rest of them.

Sure, you want

to be a cowhand,

you want to follow

Ned Buntline's wild westerns.

But why run away

from home to do it?

You've got plenty of time

for that when you grow up.

Why make such a secret

out of where you live?

Your father

can't be that bad.

I'll see you

at the hotel, Mr. Earp.

Are you sure you saw

the kid go in here?

Yeah, he ate by himself

and then he went in.

Good evening.

Railroad detectives.

Hannibal and St. Joseph.

What can I do for you?

You got a lad

about years old

staying here?

He's a nice-looking boy.

He's about that tall.

Brown hair, blue eyes.

Oh, yes, Timothy Jones.

He's in care

of Marshal Earp.

Timothy Jones?

Where can we find him?

You'd better talk

to Marshal Earp.

He's usually here by now.

Thank you. We'll be back.

[knocking]

Is that you, Mr. Earp?

No, it's Mr. Davis,

the clerk.

Oh.

Two railroad detectives

were just here.

They asked about you.

What'd you tell them?

I told them they should

talk to Mr. Earp.

But he asked me to make sure

you stayed in the hotel.

Thank you, sir.

I'll stay right here.

[Tim]

Turn me loose!

Mr. Earp'll fix you.

That cow town sheriff

better keep his nose

out of this.

Mr. Earp! Mr. Earp!

Help me!

Hold it! Let him go.

You keep out of this.

We're railroad detectives.

They're kidnapping me.

I don't care who you are,

you're under arrest.

Yeah?

Hold it.

[g*nsh*t]

k*ll 'em both, Mr. Earp.

You get back to the hotel

and stay there. Go on!

Yes, sir.

All right,

go pick up your friend.

Go on.

You'll be sorry for this.

That's Big Tim Callahan's son.

And who is Callahan?

The president

of the Hannibal/

St. Joe Railroad.

You're in trouble,

you stupid Jayhawk.

Yeah?

Start him over

to Doc Fabreek's office.

Hey, where's Callahan from?

Chicago.

He headed here

in his private car.

Or did you refuse

to let his men wire him?

No. They wired him.

Look, this is

serious, my friend.

Look, I happen

to think I'm right.

Morally, yes.

But you rousted

that kid of his around,

buffaloed one of his men

and shot the other one.

Lord knows what Callahan

will accuse you of.

That reminds me.

What?

I promised to have

a talk with his kid.

Now wait.

I think you and I

should have a talk

with Judge Jewett

and Mayor Hope.

This is more important.

Well, I happen to think

that the boy is a lot more

important than the old man.

The boy is the one that's

got the real trouble.

You hate everybody,

don't you?

First you take a shot at me,

then you want

those detectives k*lled,

and now your father.

What has your dad

done to you

that you're so willing

to turn into a little tr*mp?

Everybody's against me.

The old man, most of all.

So I'm against them.

Why do you think

your father's against you?

He don't even know me.

He's never home.

He believes my stepmother.

Everything she says is right.

Your stepmother's

against you, huh?

She hates me.

Every time my dad hires

a teacher I get along with,

she waits until

Dad's on a trip

and then she fires 'em.

Does your dad travel

a good deal?

Most of the time.

Then the servants

keep me locked up

in that big old house.

Well, that's not

enough reason

to go around

hating people, Tim.

It's not, huh?

I thought I wanted

to be your friend, once,

but you're just

like all the rest.

[g*nf*re]

It's the Bar W outfit.

You stay away

from that window.

[g*nf*re continues]

[shouting]

Whoo.

Drive on.

Those hoodlums won't

sh**t at Tim Callahan.

I don't care

about you, mister.

My team is worth $ .

I'll pay for the team.

Go back to the barn.

All right, fine with me.

[whinnying]

[Callahan]

Hyah! Hyah!

[g*nf*re]

Look out, Dad!

Timmy! Timmy!

Are you hurt?

My arm hurts.

Guess it's broken.

When are you guys gonna learn

to work together, you fools?

Put down your g*ns, come on.

I'll take care of this.

You and the boys

hustle those men in.

Go on.

Let me see that arm.

Who are you?

Now try and stand up.

That's it.

Just take it easy.

Watch your leg.

Let me see.

We'd better

go see Doc Fabreek.

I'm Tim Callahan,

and this is my boy--

You almost ran him down.

What are you trying to do,

run those horses into g*nf*re?

Mind your own business!

Don't get sassy

with Mr. Earp, Dad.

Wyatt Earp, I thought so.

You're the cow town genius--

Don't move that arm

more than you have to.

Just keep

your right hand on it.

Doc's office

is just up the street.

Don't you ignore me!

I haven't started

in on you yet!

If you don't stop jabbering,

I'm going to start in on you.

Now pick up the boy's hat

and let's go.

Come on, Timmy.

Take it easy.

I'm the boy's father,

you understand?

I'm his father!

So I arrive in Wichita,

and what do I find?

A g*n battle waging

on the main street,

and my son Timmy

right in the middle of it.

Two of my detectives in jail,

one of them seriously

wounded by Wyatt Earp.

And when I offer

a mild protest,

Mr. Earp threatens me.

Is this the way you

run things in your town?

Your detectives resisted

arrest, Mr. Callahan.

And your son refused to give

his right name and address.

My time is valuable,

and I'm not going to waste it

arguing in a small-time

court like this.

Oh, you're not?

I demand that Earp

be dismissed immediately.

Your wishes

are not law in Wichita.

All right.

Then I charge Earp

with cruel and inhuman

treatment of my son,

if you haven't any

law against that.

And then I'll bring suit

against the city

for civil damages.

I am going to sue you

for $ , .

Hold on.

Cruel and inhuman

treatment of a child

is punishable under

our criminal code.

Well, well.

I'm astonished.

This court is not interested

in your personal reaction.

Have you any testimony to

present against Marshal Earp?

I most certainly have.

Mr. Becker and Mr. Dean tell me

that Earp forced my son

to ride a dangerous horse.

Then he tied him to a steer,

and allowed the steer

to drag him around.

And then forced him to hoe weeds

in the jail yard for hours.

These are the facts,

your Honor.

That's all wrong, Judge.

That's not the way it happened.

It's all a pack of lies.

Now, now, son.

You keep out of this.

[gavel thumps]

Order.

Uh, step over here, young man.

Surely you're not going

to listen to a mere child

and irresponsible lad

who doesn't --

Sit down, Callahan.

Move over.

Uh, sit down here, son.

Now, Timmy, suppose

you tell the court

whether you've been treated

cruelly or inhumanly

by Marshal Earp.

No, sir, I wasn't.

And did he force you

to ride a dangerous horse?

No, it was all part

of the cowhand school.

Cowhand school?

Mr. Earp runs it

for spoiled kids

who leave home and think

they'd like to be cowhands.

[chuckling]

Oh, I see.

The horse and the little calf,

they were all

part of the lesson.

Hoeing weeds was

part of it, too.

But the best part is

after Mr. Earp gives

the acid test,

he treats you like a man.

He trusts ya.

He doesn't let

servants lock you up

or put detectives

on your trail.

Then you have no complaint

for the way you've been treated

since you've been here?

No, sir.

Can I stay here

with Mr. Earp?

Please, Judge.

Couldn't Mr. Earp

adopt me or something?

Timmy, you don't mean that.

Yes, I do.

Mr. Earp doesn't hate me.

I lied to him

and acted fresh,

but he doesn't hate me.

That's all I want--

just not to be hated.

Timmy, I don't hate you.

I love you.

Why would you say

such a thing as that?

All I've ever wanted to do

was to protect you

and keep you from harm.

Mr. Earp,

I don't know

how to say this,

but I hope

you'll forgive me.

I didn't mean what I said.

Sometimes, a man

just doesn't--

Your Honor,

uh, with the court's

permission, I think that

Mr. Callahan, Timmy, and I

can work this out together.

Very well.

Court's adjourned.

I think this horse

likes me now.

That's the secret,

huh, Mr. Earp?

No, the secret is

that you like the horse.

I sure do.

As soon as my arm gets well,

I'm going to learn

how to ride him

just like Mr. Earp does.

I think it's time Dad learned

how to rope little dogies.

Don't you,

Marshal Earp?

That's right.

All right, Timmy.

Uh, just how do you go about

roping one of them,

uh, dogies?

Well, uh, it's simple.

First, you tie the rope

around your waist.

This one?

All right.

Tie the rope

around him, Mr. Earp.

Well, okay.

Now I'll let

a little dogie out,

and you sit on the fence, Dad.

And then, you drop the loop

around the dogie's neck.

Okay?

[chuckling]

All right.

I'll let

the little dogie out.

Right up here, huh?

That's right.

Right up there.

Well, it seems

very simple to me.

Oh, it is.

Very simple.

I'll get him

the first time out.

[laughing]

Turn that dogie loose.

♪ Well, he cleaned up

the country ♪

♪ The old Wild West country

♪ He made law

and order prevail ♪

♪ And none can deny it

♪ The legend of Wyatt

♪ Forever will live

on the trail ♪

♪ Wyatt Earp,

Wyatt Earp ♪

♪ Brave, courageous

and bold ♪

♪ Long live his fame

and long live his glory ♪

♪ And long may

his story be told ♪

♪ Long may his story

♪ Be

♪ Told

♪ [humming]