True Grit

People do not give it credence that

a young girl could leave home

and go off in the winter time

to avenge her father's blood,

but it did happen.

I was just fourteen years of age when a coward

by the name of Tom Chaney shot my father down.

And robbed him of his life and his horse

and two California gold pieces that he carried

in his trouser band.

Chaney was a hired man.

And Papa had taken him up to Fort Smith

to help lead back a string of mustang ponies he'd bought.

In town, Chaney had fallen to drink

and cards, and lost all his money.

He got it into his head he'd been cheated

and went back to the boarding house

for his Henry rifle.

When Papa tried to intervene,

Chaney shot him.

Chaney fled.

He could have walked his horse.

For not a soul in that city could

be bothered to give chase.

No doubt Chaney fancied himself scott-free.

But he was wrong.

You must pay for everything in this world,

one way or another.

There is nothing free.

Except the grace of God.

Is that the man?

That is my father.

If you would like to kiss him

it would be all right.

He's gone to heaven.

Praise the Lord.

Why is it so much?

The quality of the casket.

And of the embalming.

The lifelike appearance requires time and art.

And the chemicals come dear.

The particulars are in your bill.

If you'd like to kiss him it would be all right.

Thank you, the spirit has flown

Your wire said $50.

You did not specify he was to be shipped.

Well, $60 is every cent we have.

It leaves nothing for our board.

Yarnell, you can see to the body's transport to

the train station and accompany it home.

I'll have to sleep here tonight.

I still have to collect father's things and

see to some other business.

Your Mama didn't say nothing about you

settling no business here.

It is business Mama didn't know about. It's all right

Yarnell, I dismiss you.

I am not sure.

Tell mama not to sign anything until I return home

and see that Papa is buried in his mason's apron.

Your terms are agreeable, if I may pass the night here.

Here, among these people?

- These people?

- I'm expecting three more souls.

Sutherland, Smith, and His-Tongue-In-The-Rain.

Ladies and gentlemen beware

and train up your children in the way

that they should go!

You see what has become of me

because of drink.

I killed a man

in a trifiling quarrel over a pocketknife.

If I had received good instruction as a child

Could you point out the sheriff?

Him with the moustaches.

I would be with my wife and children today.

I do not know what is to become of them.

But I hope and pray that you will not slight

them and compel them to go into low company.

Well.

I killed the wrong man is the which-of-why I'm here.

Had I killed the man I meant to. I don't

believe I would a been convicted.

I see men out there in that crowd

is worse than me.

...Okay.

Before I hang, I would like to say.

(Chanting in Indian tongue)

Naw, we ain't arrested him.

Ain't caught up to him, he lit

out to the Territory.

I would think that he has throwed in with

Lucky Ned Pepper, whose gang robbed a

mail hack yesterday on the Poteau river.

Well, why are you not looking for him?

I have no authority in the Indian Nation.

Tom Chaney is the business of the US marshals now.

When will they arrest him?

Not soon I'm afraid, the marshals are not well staffed.

And I'll tell you, frankly, Chaney is at the

end of a long list of fugitives and malefactors.

Could I hire a marshal to pursue Tom Chaney?

You have a lot of experience with

bounty hunters, do you?

That is a silly question. I am here

to settle my father's affairs.

- All alone.

- I am the person for it.

Mama was never any good at sums.

And she could hardly spell 'cat'.

I intend to see Papa's killer hanged.

Well, nothing prevents you from offering a

reward and so informing ae marshal.

It would have to be real

money, though, to be persuasive.

Chaney's across the river in the Choctaw Nation.

I will see to the money.

Who's the best Marshal?

I have to weigh that.

William Waters is the best tracker.

He's half Comanche, and it is something

to see him cut for sign.

The meanest one is Rooster Cogburn.

He is a pitiless man, double tough and

Fear don't enter into his thinking.

Hmm, he loves to pull a cork.

The best is probably L.T. Quinn.

He brings his prisoners in alive.

Now he may let one slip out.

Now and again, but he believes that even the

worst of men is entitled to a fair shake.

Where can I find this Rooster?

The jakes is occupied.

I know it is occupied Mr Cogburn.

As I said, I have business with you.

I have prior business.

You've been at it for quite some time,

Mr Cogburn.

There is no clock on my business!

The hell with you. How did you stalk me here?

The sheriff told me to look in the saloon.

In the saloon they referred me here. We must talk.

Women ain't allowed in the saloon!

I was not there as a customer.

I am fourteen years old.

The jakes is occupied.

And will be for some time.

Good evening.

If you would like to sleep in a coffin,

it would be alright.

How much are you paying for cotton?

Nine and a half, for low middling

and ten for ordinary.

We got most of ours out early.

Sold to the Woodson Brothers in

Little Rock for eleven cents.

Then I suggest you take the balance of it

to the Woodson Brothers.

We took the balance to Woodson.

We got ten and a half.

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