The Man from Laramie

We'll make camp here for the night.

I'd go a couple more

miles before sundown.

- We'll camp here.

- You're the boss.

Come on, Mr. Lockhart, grub-time.

All right, I'll be along.

Standing here thinking about

it won't bring him back.

No, but it reminds me of

what I came here to do.

Hate's unbecoming

in a man like you.

On some men it shows.

- Come on, let's have some coffee.

- All right, I'll be along.

Here we are.

You want something?

I got three wagonloads of

supplies outside, from Laramie.

From Laramie? How did

you get through?

- We were lucky. Where do we unload?

- I don't know.

Who does? Where's the boss?

Upstairs.

Anybody home?

Excuse me, ma'am.

I'm looking for the owner

of the mercantile.

I'm the owner.

I see.

I have three wagonloads of

supplies for you outside.

I was hoping those supplies

would never arrive.

I thought you'd be anxious

to get these goods.

They're paid for, you

seem to need 'em.

I was all sold-out and was hoping

I could stop being a storekeeper.

I'm sorry to disappoint you, ma'am.

Where do you want the

supplies unloaded?

Would you like a cup of tea?

What?

It's a long time since

I've had tea with a lady.

That'd be kind of nice.

- Pull up a chair.

- Thank you.

- What's your name?

- Will Lockhart, ma'am.

Mine's Barbara Waggoman.

- Do you take sugar?

- Yes, when I can get it.

I've been in rooms like this before,

but not in this part of the country.

My father brought these things

from our home in Connecticut.

A man of very fine taste, I'd say.

Father had an appreciation for fine

living, but he wasted it in this store...

emptying flour barrels and

measuring cotton cloth.

I see.

There must be more to life than

emptying barrels of flour.

Yes, I'd say so.

I've wanted to leave Coronado

ever since my father died.

But the stage for Santa Fe stopped

running because of the Apaches.

- Did you have any trouble getting here?

- No, we came from Laramie.

- Is that your home?

- No, ma'am.

No, I can't rightly say

any place is my home.

But everybody should have someplace to

remember and feel like they belong to.

I always feel I belong where I am.

It must be wonderful

to feel like that.

Is there anyplace around town

my men and I can find rooms?

- Right over the caf.

- Fine.

I guess I'd better start

unloading those supplies.

We'll unpack them all and get

them into the shelves for you.

- Thanks for the tea, Miss Waggoman.

- You're welcome, Mr. Lockhart.

- Bye.

- Bye.

- Do you sell many of these repeating rifles?

- No, too much money.

- Where'd you get this one?

- Indian traded it for supplies.

I wonder where an Indian

would get a rifle like this.

He don't say. I don't ask.

Suppose you come out and help

the fellas unload this stuff?

- They tell me you're from Snake River.

- Yeah.

We expect an honest deal here.

We've just had one,

I hope we get another.

I do, too. We can work the drive.

Pass.

I can't open.

See you in a minute.

'Evening, Miss Waggoman.

- Good evening, Mr. Lockhart.

- Nice evening.

You're the only one in town I know

to talk to. Maybe you can help me.

How can I help you?

I just hate to make that trip

back with three empty wagons.

I thought maybe you could tell me

where to pick up a load of freight.

- There's some salt lagoons nearby.

- That's all?

- They're awful close to Apache land.

- Is this salt free for the taking?

It always has been.

We could harvest it ourselves

then, couldn't we?

You were lucky to get this

far without Indian trouble.

If I were you, I'd head back to

Laramie while the trail's still clear.

I guess you're right about that.

- Good night, Mr. Lockhart.

- Good night, Miss Waggoman.

Miss Waggoman...

Yes?

That shipment I delivered to

you:
Is everything all right?

Yes, everything was there.

I just wanted to make sure.

- Good night, again.

- 'Night.

Visitors!

Do we fort up or run?

Just keep digging salt.

They're from town,

they're not Apaches.

- Who's running this bunch of thieves?

- These men work for me.

- What's your name?

- Will Lockhart. What's your name?

- That's the only introduction you need.

- That's fancy, what's it mean?

We're Barb riders and that's

Barb salt you're stealing.

- I was told this salt's free for the taking.

- It ain't. Not to strangers.

I was told wrong. If there's

any charge, I'll pay for it.

You can't buy your way out of this.

It's only salt they're taking.

It'd be different if it was cattle.

If we don't teach him a lesson, how

do we know what he'd steal next?

Any man says I'd rustle

cattle is a liar.

No need for that, Charlie.

And no need for your

gun either, mister.

Spud, let's see how good

you can use that rope.

Go ahead, Spud.

Jerk him down again if he needs it.

Burn his wagons!

I'll try your new model gun on your mules.

A man without wagons don't need mules.

- You want me to shoot those mules?

- Anybody invite them on Barb land?

Hold it, Dave!

- Come on, boys, let's finish the mules.

- Hold it, Dave.

I don't need any

help to finish this.

- You were told to stay out of trouble.

- I'm in no trouble, he is.

Trespassing and stealing salt.

You burned his wagons and

killed his mules over salt?

- Get out of here.

- Give me that gun.

Now get back to the ranch!

You're forgetting your place, Vic.

You work for my father. That

means you work for me, too.

I don't want to cross you.

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