Sam Whiskey Page #2

You want me to put it back in the mint?

That's right.

Lady, there's two things

I don't mess around with,

one is an Apache squaw,

and the other

is the United States government.

Mr. Whiskey, there is a senator,

a former governor,

and two generals in our family.

We have one

of the oldest names in Oklahoma.

Well, that's wonderful.

Why don't you tell them to bury your dead

bird and I'll just go on about my business.

Because, Mr. Whiskey,

if that gold isn't returned,

I'm the one who will have to go to jail.

And I'd rather die first.

You should've thought about that

before you got yourself involved.

I should have, but I didn't.

If I was the President, lady,

and you stole the White House

and both halls of Congress,

I'd only give you six months.

But if I don't keep myself out of jail,

nobody else will.

Haven't you ever found yourself involved

in things where there was no way out?

You didn't want it,

and you didn't approve of it, but...

...there was just nothing else you could do.

Yeah. But this ain't one of them times.

Can I ask you just one favor?

Let me tell you how it happened

before you say no.

All right. But you're wasting your time.

I married Phillips Breckenridge when

he was a promising young congressman.

He seemed honest and principled,

courageous, clever.

My mother didn't like him.

She warned me,

but I wanted to live in Washington,

see all the excitement of the Capitol.

Phillips was very ambitious.

When the opportunity presented itself

to become famous overnight,

he grabbed it.

He borrowed enough gold from the mint

to finance a rebellion in lower California.

The result would've been a new republic,

the same way Texas began,

with my husband

as first president of that republic.

But the riverboat sank. Now I gotta go.

The agents of Benito Juarez

didn't want another piece of Mexico lost,

and expansion is no longer

a popular word in Washington.

There's a new administration.

Well, we've had a nice talk,

lady, and I hope you get...

No. Mr. Whiskey!

When they start minting coins

in Denver next month,

I don't want them to discover the lead bars

Phillips put back in place of the gold.

Yeah, you have got yourself a problem.

Don't be so hasty!

Look inside, Mr. Whiskey.

What do you see?

Instead of the 5,000,

I'm prepared to pay you $7,500,

if you'll do it.

How 'bout 10,000?

Do you know there's 14 different kinds

of river pirates and bushwhackers

between here and the Platte River?

Pinkerton said you could do anything.

He did?

And now I'm sure of it.

What would happen,

when I got that pile of gold,

if I just kept it for myself?

Uncle Morgan would have you shot.

Uncle Morgan?

He's the General in the family.

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