Rio Lobo Page #2

- I'll be all right.

- Your neck's broken.

I'm sorry

I can't wait here with you, but...

I know, sir.

Colonel...

- Catch 'em, will ya?

- I will.

Corporal, get up in that car

and take a look-see.

Wyler, get on ahead of us,

see which way they took off.

Probably south.

Colonel, the gold's gone.

They got it, sir.

I thought so.

Here, Colonel.

They had a wagon.

You can see the tracks. They split up.

Part of them went that way

with the wagon and the rest out there.

The wagon was heavy coming in

and heavy when it left.

The load could have come

from this pile of stones.

Maybe that's what

they wanted us to think.

- You mean the gold's on the wagon?

- Well, I'm goin' after the wagon.

You take half the troop

and follow those that went to the east.

Cartel,

you and your squad follow me.

And Lieutenant... If you catch 'em,

I want you to bring a couple back.

- And I want them to be able to talk.

- Yes, sir.

Follow me.

Jenkins. Check that trail.

- Colonel.

- What is it?

Here's a button from a Reb uniform.

Could have come this way.

- Could a wagon get up there?

- Not a chance.

You and Miller come with me

and the rest of you follow that trail.

If the gold was in the wagon,

they're packing it now.

- They came into the water here.

- They went upstream or downstream?

Who can say?

All right. You two go downstream

and I'll go upstream.

Hey, Johnny Reb,

stay right where you are!

Yank, I'm unarmed.

That's what bothers me.

Turn around anyway.

- Don't drown him.

- I won't.

He hit his head, Captain.

Give us a hand here.

He's heavier than a baby whale!

- It's all quiet out there, Sergeant.

- Let's hope it stays that way, Captain.

You'd better leave that bandage alone,

unless you want to start bleeding again.

- How do you feel?

- I hurt.

- You hit your head on a rock.

- I feel like a fool lettin' you take me.

I would, too.

You haven't got a bad leg.

That bandage fooled me.

Bide over there loaned it to me.

It's real blood, too, Colonel.

Made by a Yankee bullet.

- Who knocked me off my horse?

- Tuscarora, here.

I hurt a little, too, Colonel.

You're a big man.

You're the outfit

that's been taking our gold shipments.

- That's the fourth lot you've grabbed.

- The South needs money, Colonel.

I know you from someplace, don't I?

- You do.

- What's your name?

Pierre Cordona.

French mother, Mexican father.

From New Orleans.

Four or five years ago in Abilene.

- That's right.

- Something about a horse, wasn't it?

- Big bay horse. You stole it.

- The hell I did. I won it.

- You won a sorrel.

- The sorrel was lame.

When you play poker, you should know

what you are playing for.

I remember.

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