Green Grass of Wyoming

Synopsis: "Thunderhead," a roving, big white stallion, causes problems for the Wyoming ranchers when he leads their blue-blooded racing mares off to join his wild horse herd in the mountains. Escaping gunfire, he runs off one night with a young rancher;s mare, a possible winner of the Governor's Stake trotting race. The mare is recaptured and entered in the race against the horse owned by the father of the young rancher's sweetheart, and this puts a damper on their romance.
Genre: Drama, Family, Western
Director(s): Louis King
Production: 20th Century Fox Film Corporation
  Nominated for 1 Oscar. Another 1 nomination.
89 min

# There were two wild stallions

on the mountain

# Only one could rule the land

# The son's mighty hoofs

come a-thunderin' down

# Great Albino lay dead in the sand, poor boy

# Great Albino lay dead in the sand

# Thunderhead then was

the king of the mountain

# Where he lived, nobody knew where

# He would steal to the ranches

in the valley below

# Now and then to take a new lady fair,

great lover

# Now and then to take a new lady fair

# At night many fillies broke for freedom

# At his feet another stallion lay dead

# Like a thief in the night

he would fly out of sight

# Mighty clever

# The valley people said

"Shoot that stallion"

# They were sure it was

the great Thunderhead

Yes, sirree. Old Thunderhead

was a mighty tough customer.

He kept getting bolder and bolder,

like the night when he struck

at Beaver Greenway's place.

Early next morning, Beaver's granddaughter

found out what had happened to their mare,

and things sure started popping.


Grandpa, get up. Get up, Grandpa.

- Another mare's gone.

- Huh?

- Another mare's gone. It's Lady Hanover.

- Lady Hanover?

She was run off by some stallion.

His hoofprints are all over the place.

By ginger, it's that Thunderhead.

- Well, don't stand there. Let's go after her.

- It's too late. She's dead.


She tried to jump that gulch in the upper

pasture. I found her lying down at the bottom.

Lady Hanover.

The finest trotting mare a man ever had.

Why, it was only last spring

we bred her to Willie D.

I was counting on her colt.

- I'm sorry, Grandpa.

- Don't you feel sorry for me!

By ginger, I'm going to tell those

McLaughlins a thing or two. You just wait.


Tell me, was I very?


- What day is it?

- Tuesday.


You've been that way since Sunday.

I'll put the coffee on.

Oh! Carey...

Pump for me, will you?

Honest, ducky, this is the last time.

- Yes, I know. Put your head down.

- Ohh!

Hey, what are you trying to do? Drown me?

Ouch! Ouch, you're scalping me!

I came here to look after you,

and I'm going to, even if it hurts.


Thanks for leaving my head on my shoulders.

Wash your hands.

I'll have breakfast ready in a minute.

All right.

Never mind breakfast.

I just remembered I'm mad.

- You're not going to start a fuss.

- I'm not, eh?

Thunderhead has stolen two of my mares and

if Rob McLaughlin won't do something, I will.

I'll not have you fight with Mr

McLaughlin. It's not neighbourly.

Grandpa, please wait till you feel better.

If I didn't feel as well as I do, I wouldn't

stand here arguing with you. Now scat.

I hope Ken doesn't forget those skillets.

This one's impossible. Just look at these eggs.

That kid should've been back last night.

It's a long pull from Los Angeles,

especially dragging a trailer.

I know, but that boy's got a genius

for getting into trouble.

If you fight with the McLaughlins,

no one in 20 miles will talk to you.

No man's stallion's gonna

steal my mares and get away with it.

- Well, Carey, Beaver, come on in.

- McLaughlin, I've lost another mare.

- Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.

- He's sorry, he says.

It's the second mare Thunderhead has stolen.

Wait a minute.

How do you know it's Thunderhead?

Nobody's even seen him since

we turned him loose a couple of years ago.

It's Thunderhead. You know what I'm gonna

do? I'm gonna hunt him down and shoot him.

You got a perfect right to shoot him

- if you catch him at it. You haven't even seen him.

- Are you calling me a liar?

- Please excuse him, Mr McLaughlin.

- No man calls me a liar and gets away with it.

- Will you be reasonable?

I'll get word around

to watch out for a mare-stealer...

That's all I want to know. I come here for a

little action and all I get is a lot of talk.

I'll handle this thing my own way.

- I'm sorry. He doesn't really mean it.

- It's all right. Don't worry about it.

- Carey!

- Coming, Grandpa.

Goodbye, Mr McLaughlin.

Come on, Sundown, let's get outta here.


Huh! Calling me a liar

and sticking up for Thunderhead.

- Why do you have to fight with everybody?

- Me?

- If only you'd stop drinking.

- Stop drinking?

I only take a thimbleful

just to settle my nerves.

If only you would, and start training Sundown

again, then everything would be different.

You took the words right out of my mouth.

That's exactly what I'm gonna

start doing tomorrow - you watch me.

Hello! Pull up a minute.

I got a surprise for you.

- You're the one who's got a surprise coming.

- Hey! Wait a minute!

- I'll see you later, Ken.

- You keep away from those McLaughlins.

Do you think Thunderhead stole the mares?

If he's alive, I'm afraid so. A lot of mares

have been stolen lately besides Beaver's.

What are you gonna do?

If we pick up his trail soon after a mare's

been stolen, we've a good chance of catching him.

Then you'll have to shoot him?

- Yeah.

- I'm afraid that'll break Ken's heart.

- Kenny!

- Hi, Gus!

- How are things in the city?

- Great. I got a surprise in the trailer.

Surprises I like don't come in trailers!

- Ken!

- Hello, Mom. Your skillets.

- Thank you, son.

- Hiya, Dad.

The horses come through in good shape?

Mr McNulty pay you?

- Yes, sir. And have I got a surprise for you.

- What is it this time?

The most wonderful thing happened.

- I met a friend of yours, Whitey Eaton...

- A friend of mine?

- He let me in on a terrific deal.

- Whitey Eaton did?

- He's the crookedest horse-dealer this

side... - You've mixed him up with someone else.

- Take it easy, baby.

- She looks fine, Kenny.

What have you got in that trailer?

Did you let Whitey Eaton sell you a horse?

Sure. And is she a beauty.

Hey, let's get her out, Gus.

Just a minute, young man.

Did you take the 2200 McNulty paid you

for the polo ponies

and give it to Whitey Eaton

for some broken-down piece of crowbait?

- Why, Mr Eaton says she's a sure winner.

- I told you, Whitey Eaton is a crook!

I can't agree with you, Dad. I think this

mare is a very sound business investment.

- Come on, take a look.

- What...

- What is she, Kenny?

- A trotter. Let me get this blanket off.

- There you are.

- Rob, she's beautiful.

Yeah, I've seen Whitey's

beautiful horses before. Come here, son.

Telephone him and tell him

I don't want this mare,

and after breakfast tomorrow,

you're going back to Los Angeles with it.

- I don't think so, Dad.

- You... you what?

You said that on my next birthday

I'll be a partner.

If so, I'm gonna have something to say.

You'll never be a partner

pulling stunts like this.

At least you can let him show her. All Ken

knows about horses is what you taught him.

She's by Bolomite out of

Margaret Castledon - both champions.

You can't beat that breeding.

Well, all right.

Trot her out. Let's see her.

Come on, baby.

Come on, baby, trot. Come on.

- Buying a horse without consulting me.

- I'm sure she'll be all right.

Here. Here, stop that.

Down, girl!

- Uh-oh.

- Ken, be careful.

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Martin Berkeley

Martin Berkeley (August 21, 1904 − May 6, 1979) was a Hollywood and television screenwriter who collaborated with the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) in the 1950s by naming dozens of Hollywood artists as Communists or Communist sympathizers. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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