Rawhide

Yes, sir. That's it. The Overland Mail.

San Francisco to St. Louis in 25 days.

2,700 miles in 25 days and 25 nights-

when the weather and Injuns behave.

A lot farther and longer when they didn't.

People said it couldn't be done.

They laughed, called it theJackass Mail.

But when mail

and passengers and gold...

began coming through

from California day in, day out...

the whole country sat up

and took notice.

San Francisco to St. Louis::

The shortest, fastest, "backbreakingest"ride

you could buy for $200 gold...

meals included.

Yes, sir. That's it.

The Jackass Mail.

This is the relay station

at Rawhide Pass-

one of many strung along

the 2,700-mile route.

Here, while a fresh team

of mules was hitched to the stage...

the driver and passengers

could wash, have some food...

and go on to the next station

many miles away.

Doggone it, Tom.

It ain't been no picnic for me neither.

I'm just gettin' mule skinner wages...

and that don't include no bonus

for learning you the business.

I've knowed your old man

for 40 years.

There weren't nothin'

too tough for him.

That's why when he cracks the whip, men and

mules just lay back their ears and take orders.

Why, if any man was to talk to him

the way I'm talking to you...

he'd poke both fists

right in their whiskers.

Well, can't you even talk back?

Hey.

The trouble with you is

y- you just don't listen.

Here I've been trying for five, six months

to learn you the business...

and you're-you're still

shaving, taking a bath.

Well, it's no wonder them mules

don't take to you kindly.

See here. What's your old man

gonna think of me...

if I send you back lookin'just as much

of a dude as when you first come out here?

Well, doggone it! Can't you say something?

Yeah, Sam. Bugle's blowing.

That's the trouble. You get me so riled up

I can't even attend to business.

Try 'em again, Billy.

Now do it like I learnt ya. Then come out

and help me with them mules.

Ho, ho. Ho.

Hyah! Hyah!

Hyah!

Get! Hyah!

Hyah! Ho!

- Whoa!

- Hello.

You still here in this center

of civilization, Tom?

I won't be much longer, Mr. Scott.

I finally got my pardon.

- So you're going back east, huh?

- Yes, sir.

- When?

- One week.

He hasn't half learned

the business yet.

What's the baby's name, Mrs. Holt?

- Callie.

- Callie? I never heard that name before.

Short for California, Sam.

Born there, wasn't she?

- Placerville.

- In a mining camp?

- That's right.

- Poor little thing.

- That's tough.

- It's tough to be born anywhere.

Little more coffee, Mrs. Holt?

No, thank you. And please stop calling me

Mrs. Holt. I'm "Miss. "

- Miss Holt?

- Yes.

Have a little more coffee,

Mr. Slade?

Coffee? This stuff tastes like burnt corn

boiled in branch water.

Well, could be.

We don't run no fancy hotel here.

You couldn't get it down

with a swig of whiskey.

Back wherever you came from I'll bet you

were glad to get a drink out of a sluice box.

But it didn't cost

$200 in gold, it didn't.

That's the price of the

stage ticket, Mr. Slade.

- The company throws the food in extra.

- You call this food?

Mule boy here seems to like it.

Mule boy doesn't.

But it's eat or starve, so I- I eat.

Just wait till I get back to Missouri.

I'm a-gonna take it up

with the fella and raise hob with him...

whoever's runnin' this here company.

Looks like trouble for old J.C.

J.C. Can take care

of any trouble that comes his way.

- Who's J. C?

- J.C. Owens.

It's his father, superintendent

of the eastern division.

I'll give you his address in St. Joe if

you'll throw in a couple of complaints from me.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes