Bad Company

---

One to the right, one to the left.

Let me go! Let me go!

Let me go! Let me go!

Take it easy.

The army'll make a man outta you.

Get on!

One man around the back.

Your boy was supposed to report

for conscription. He never showed up.

It isn't right.

This family's done its part.

We lost our eldest at Chickamauga.

Sergeant, look.

This is all that's left of him.

Hasn't this family sacrificed enough?

Well, I'm sorry, ma'am,

but the law says

that every able-bodied man

has got to join up.

I just have to do my job.

He isn't here. I swear it.

- No sign of him, Sergeant.

- Davis?

All right, search the barn...

and don't forget the privy.

If I find him, ma'am,

he just goes into the army.

If somebody else does, they're

liable to hang that boy of yours.

Stay put till I tell you. They may

come back and look some more.

Ma? Did they get Fred Chennelworth?

Yeah, I'm afraid so.

- Drew!

- I'm sorry.

It's all right. They're gone.

Now...

We ain't got any time to waste.

When you hit St Joe, book on the

first wagon train to Virginia City.

Once you're out of the Union,

the army can't get you. Now, here...

This is $100. It's all I could get.

- Joe!

- I don't need all that.

Just take it.

And write regular, hear?

You keep in touch.

Once this blasted thing is over,

why... we'll see you then.

Yes, sir.

Well...

I guess I better go saddle up Dinah.

Give me this. What a mess!

Don't know the first thing

about packing, do you?

I don't know what you're gonna do

without your poor mother to...

- Ma...

- Now, Drew, when you get to a town,

you seek out the Methodist church,

and you ask the preacher

where you can find a good cheap meal.

Most likely, he'll direct you.

Methodists know food.

That's your father.

- Goodbye, Son.

- Bye, Ma.

Wait a minute.

Take this. And don't ever forget

your precious brother.

Don't ever forget him.

September 30th 1863.

Arrived in Saint Joseph, Missouri,

after an uneventful trip.

I have found clean lodgings

in a respectable hotel

and will book passage

on a wagon train west,

where I hope to flourish

in my career.

The sun is shining - a suitable sign

for my high expectations.

Excuse me, sir.

Is this line for the wagon train?

Thank you.

Mornin'.

- Hey, you!

- Me?

- You new in town?

- Yes.

What you runnin' from? I saw you

there with them recruiting boys.

- I don't know what you mean.

- Hey, I'm in the same boat.

- Oh, yeah?

- Not that I'm runnin'.

I done a year with 'em.

God damn their miserable souls.

I locked horns with this sergeant -

big tubby bastard named Egan.

Time and time again, he had me

pulling shit-sweeping details.

One fine day, I broke his nose.

I been running from 'em ever since,

the whole kit 'n' caboodle of 'em.

- Well, excuse me...

- Where you headed?

- Virginia City.

- Gonna be a silver baron, huh?

- How are you getting there?

- Wagon train.

Not unless you stick around

for six months.

- Six months?

- That's the waiting list.

Them army boys won't nod politely

every morning, neither.

- What about the stagecoach?

- It's worse.

And the riverboats, they're all

plugged up account of the war.

- Say, you got that kinda money?

- Well...

You better be careful.

This town's the armpit of America.

Man'll rob you blind

soon as look at you here.

You don't know where

to find a Methodist church, do you?

Why... Why, yes, sir. I do.

As a matter of fact,

I know a short cut. Right this way.

- Are you a Methodist yourself?

- Not exactly.

Right here. Right here.

Here, stop that this minute!

Get off of him! You big bully!

Poor baby. There, there...

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