
McLintock!
- APPROVED
- Year:
- 1963
- 127 min
- 3,852 Views
Lord to goodness, not again.
- Howdy, Drago.
- Morning, Curly.
he come home swaggled.
- Only six.
- Seven.
Six. Once was his birthday, that don't count.
Give me my buggy whip.
Didn't have anything for breakfast
but two raw eggs and a mug of honey.
- No.
- Curly.
Yes, Boss?
Don't say it's a fine morning,
or I'll shoot you.
Get out of here, Bunyan.
- Good morning.
- Morning.
Carlos, what are you doing up there?
I hope I get it this time, Mr. McLintock.
My brothers, they got the big hats already.
All right, let them have at it.
Get over.
Ain't you gonna let me drive?
You promised me you would sometime.
No.
Boss, you better watch that turn
on the road!
You're gonna kill both of us
one of these days.
Thank you, Mr. Boss!
You got cattle in the back, Boss.
Give it up.
Keep them going.
Fifteen cents a pound,
all the way to Kansas City.
Now, Boss, there's one old pensioner
I wished you'd pass up.
- Bunny?
- Yeah.
- Wish I knew where I'd seen his face before.
- He ain't an old-timer...
he's just been around town
a couple of years.
You have no milk of human kindness.
Morning, Mr. McLintock.
- Morning, Bunny.
- Well, I can see you're in good health.
Never felt better,
contrary to what you may hear.
Me, my kidneys ain't what they used to be...
- and my liver's being leaving me bilious.
- Drago.
- Hello, Ben.
- Hey, McLintock.
- Drago, throw that in the buggy.
- Yes, sir.
- That's a scrubby bunch of sooners.
- They are, at that.
That ought to make Douglas happy.
Lining his pockets with land fees.
What are we gonna do?
I don't know what you're gonna do, Ben.
Me, I do nothing.
Two hundred families,
a quarter of beef a week for a family.
If they last two years,
that can be a sizeable number.
I've got 20 head to...
one of any other brand on the Mesa Verde.
I'm not hollering.
Some of us haven't got all the money
in the world...
and some of us ain't old and tired,
and feel like being put upon.
You interest me, Young Ben. Go on.
So the first time I find one of our hides
wearing our brand...
hung on one of them settlers' fences,
I aim to kill me a plowboy.
You do what you want, McLintock.
We'll do what we want.
Fellows my age generally call me G.W.
Or McLintock.
Youngsters call me Mr. McLintock.
All right, Mr. McLintock.
Not because I'm afraid of you.
You're the big he-stud of this country...
should call you mister.
He's full grown now, G.W.
He's a half owner of this spread.
I made him a full partner
the day the doc gave me the long face.
Well, you want him to vote the first time
this territory becomes a state, don't you?
Of course I do.
If these settlers get burned out,
there'll be a lot of hollering...
that this country's too wild to be a state.
We'll go on being a territory some more...
with a lot of political appointees running it...
according to what they learned
in some college...
where they think
that cows are something you milk...
and Indians are something
I'm looking to you to hold Young Ben down.
I'll do what I can.
Come on over to the house once in a while,
we'll rack up a few hands of stud.
G. W., that'd be just fine.
It's a nice morning, ain't it, Boss?
Everybody's entitled to their own opinion.
Like that again?
Here's something that'll cheer you up.
About 1,000 head,
I figure they'll bring about $12.50.
They're not as fat as I'd like to ship.
- They all off the North Range?
- Yes, sir.
Settlers. Every one of them with a plow
and a Bible...
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