01x05 - Trapline

[bunniefuu]

♪ Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie

♪ He was a bold, adventurin' man ♪

♪ Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie

♪ Battle for right with a powerful hand ♪

♪ His blade was tempered and so was he ♪

♪ Indestructible steel was he

♪ Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie

♪ He was a fighter, a fearless and mighty adventurin' man ♪

- [Narrator] This is Cajun country, the heart of Louisiana.

Here the French Acadians,

driven from their homes in Nova Scotia,

cling to their ancient customs.

Now, 20 years after the American purchase of this land,

and 20 miles into the wilderness, it is still French.

And it looks as though it will remain French forever,

for Americans are looked upon with suspicion,

and enter Cajun country at their own peril.

[g*n firing]

- [Man] Come out, monsieur.

- Careless shootin', mister.

You coulda spoiled a good pelt.

- The only pelt I will spoil, monsieur, will be yours.

Drop them.

- Why, aren't they for sale?

- You're not a Western Company man.

- No, I'm nobody's man.

I'm Jim Bowie from Opelousas, howdy.

- You come to Cajun country to buy furs?

- Why not?

It's good fur country.

- I do not sell to outsiders, monsieur.

- Not even if I pay you top prices?

In gold?

Save you a little trip,

you won't have to go to the rendezvous.

- I sell only to the Western Company, monsieur.

You go to rendezvous yourself, perhaps you can buy furs,

but not from me.

Now drop them. [tense music]

- [Narrator] Everywhere in the Cajun country,

it was the same.

The trappers refused to deal with anyone,

but the Western Company.

Why?

Bowie was determined to trade in furs,

so he went for an answer

to the spiritual leader of these simple folk.

The parish priest.

- You are wasting your time, Monsieur Bowie.

You will have to do business with George le Gon,

of the Western Company. - But why?

- Sit down.

They have a charter granted by the King of France

a hundred years ago.

- Well, this is 1829,

Louisiana isn't under the rule of any French king.

It's America.

That charter isn't worth the piece of paper it's written on.

- The Western Company claim exclusive rights

to all furs taken in this region.

- Well that's wrong, Father.

It's wrong.

Trappers can sell their furs to whoever they want to,

whoever gives 'em the best price.

- I have told them so.

- This rendezvous, it's an open market?

I mean the trappers go there to sell their furs

to the highest bidder, don't they?

- [Father Michel] Yes.

- Alright.

I'll be at the rendezvous myself, with a sack full of gold.

- I do not think that would be wise, monsieur.

- Wise or unwise, Father, I'm goin' in the fur business.

It's time the Western Company had a little competition.

- Yes, but-- - Thank you, Father.

Good bye.

[light music]

[crowd chattering]

Hi.

Howdy, folks.

Well, I'm open for business,

here's my sign, these are my prices.

And I'm paying gold.

And a $10 bonus to the first one of you who sells.

And I'll better any offer you can get elsewhere.

Prime pelts or not.

What's the matter, you don't speak English?

[speaking in foreign language]

- [Man] We speak English alright.

[approaching footsteps]

- That sign, it spoils the front of the shed.

- Hmm?

No more than the Western Company sign

spoils the front of that building.

- The Western Company sign is permanent,

you better take yours down.

- Oh I thought I'd keep it up here 'til the rendezvous ends.

- For you it's ended now, take it down.

- Well I don't think my family would like that.

- Family?

I don't see any family.

- Well here's my brother.

And here's my uncle.

They say the sign stays.

And they're both faster than you and your p*stol.

- No one sells him anything.

Huh?

No one!

- Whoa.

Look, Father, $6 for minks.

- A good price, Daughter, but not good enough.

- It will do no harm to talk.

Whoa.

Monsieur Bowie?

- Howdy, Miss.

- [Jean] You have permission from Monsieur Le Gon

to trade here? - I don't know Mr. Le Gon.

- [Paul]] If you stay here, you will.

A good price, I am sorry we cannot sell to you.

- These are the best bunch of pelts I've seen yet.

Hmm.

For you I'll raise my price a dollar.

- Perhaps no one has told you,

you cannot buy furs from Cajuns.

- A hundred minks is $700 dollars.

- Your daughter has a good head for figures, Sir.

- We have otters and muskrats too.

- Name your price, I'll buy the lot.

- You'll buy nothing, monsieur.

Drive on, Jean, please.

- But Father, we could pay off our debt.

- [Jim] My money's good, I assure you.

- Keep your money, it is no good to us.

Drive on, Jean.

Le Gon will not like it if he sees us talking to this man.

- I'm not worried what Le Gon likes or dislikes, Sir.

- I'm sorry, monsieur. [light music]

- Mug of ale, please.

How about a little company, Father?

- Please.

- Thank you.

Who're they?

- Paul Brasseur and his daughter Jean.

She is a better trapper than he is.

- Come, Jean, we must go to the blacksmith.

- Go on, Father, I will join you.

- She spoke about a debt to her father.

What'd she mean by that?

- The trappers, they are all in debt to Le Gon.

He owns the store.

The furs never quite get them even.

- [Le Gon] Ah, bonjour Father.

- Le Gon, take care.

- And whose soul you trying to save now?

- The saving of souls, monsieur Le Gon,

is in the hands of heaven.

Should you ever come to my church we could discuss it.

- You want to grapple with the Devil, eh?

First this way, and then that.

[wood thudding]

Tearing down your sign was much easier.

Give him back his sign, Brissak.

- Voila.

- It is only because you're a stranger,

I excuse your ignorance.

Put the sign on your mule and go.

- Well, Mr. Le Gon, you tear down signs, you break chairs,

what else do you do?

Cheat these frightened people?

- Do not try my patience, monsieur.

- When will your patience be tried, when my back's turned?

[chair clattering]

- Your back is not turned now.

- Have a drink. [metal clanking]

Drop it!

Go on.

Now, Le Gon, you tore down my sign,

you're gonna put it back again.

Go on, pick it up.

- This sign will be part of your coffin, boy.

- Come on.

Go on, move.

You too.

Hurry up.

[light music]

Father Michel tells me that you're

a better trapper than your Papa.

- Well, I have a better reason to be.

- Yeah?

- I want to live in New Orleans.

Do you think I like these clothes?

I want silk and lace, I want to wear furs, not trap them.

[Jim laughs]

- You wanna trap a husband, huh?

- Yes.

- An American husband?

- Why not?

- Jean, what are you doing?

- I have sold to Monsieur Bowie.

- But you cannot, put those pelts back on the wagon.

- If your daughter says so.

- Jean, tell him you have made a mistake.

You do not wish to sell.

- I do want to sell.

I have sold.

- They're $50 dollar Spanish gold slugs, 30 of them.

- Look, Father, we pay Le Gon what we owe,

and we have enough for next rendezvous.

No more debt, we're free.

- No more debt.

Hyah.

- Yes, Mademoiselle.

- Monsieur Bowie.

- Hello Father.

Look, prime pelts.

The ice is broken.

- Don't do this.

Sell them back, I beg of you.

- Sell 'em back?

I'm gonna buy some more.

- Monsieur, you are an outsider here.

The Cajuns know only this land.

Trapping furs is their living.

Please do not bring harm to these simple people.

- I'm not bringing harm to 'em.

I'm giving a good price.

And I'm not an outsider, Father, I'm an American.

So are you Cajuns, you know that.

Why haven't you told them?

- I have told them.

I have reasoned with Le Gon.

From them, silence.

- But, she came to me.

She wanted to sell the furs.

- Sell them back.

Let me bring Brasseur here with his money.

- Well.

[g*n firing] [tense music]

- Paul, Paul, what is it?

[all talking]

- Who did it?

- [Man] You did it, American.

[intensifying music]

- It's not your fault, monsieur.

It's mine.

- Take her to my home, Amy.

- Well, who did it?

What's the matter with you people?

Don't you realize you're free men in a free country?

What are you so scared of?

You know the man who did this, name him.

Father, you tell 'em.

- They all know it was Le Gon, or one of his men,

yet their tongues are tied.

- Give this to the girl.

She may need it.

Well, I'm in and out of the fur business fast.

Wasn't my fault, you heard what the girl said.

What do you want me to do, Father?

- What did you want to do, my son?

- Go home to Opelousas, and that's just what I'm gonna do.

[light music]

Oh no, it's not your fault.

I came down here, didn't I?

I stirred things up, didn't I?

Just to make a few dollars.

Alright then, I gotta take the,

I mean I've got to assume the--

- The moral responsibility, monsieur?

- That's it.

Alright, I take it.

I assume it!

I don't like to feel like this but I do,

and I wanna do something about it.

Well it's nothing to laugh at.

Where's that $50 gold slug?

- The gold slug?

- The one I picked up in the street.

- Oh, oh!

I did not give it to her, yet.

- Oh.

- Here it is.

A $50 gold piece.

There are probably no others like it

in the whole of Louisiana.

- Why yes there are, there are 29 others.

Were they found in your father's pocket?

- No, they were stolen.

- So if Le Gon has them he'll find it mighty hard

to explain how he got them, won't he?

- What difference will it make?

No one will dare accuse him.

- I'll accuse him.

- Ah, to accuse him is one thing.

To convict him, another.

- Mademoiselle, would you be willing to swear

that your father had 30 of these?

- Of course he had them.

- But would you swear it in court?

- Yes.

- Can you ride a fast horse? - I can.

- My horse is back of the church.

I want you to take this letter

to Captain Marsh in Natchitoches.

He'll know what to do.

- Your other knife, monsieur, it is underneath those papers.

- Oh, thank you.

- One more thing, my son.

- Yeah? - I was not laughing at you.

It always makes me happy to see a man

get on the side of the angels.

- I'll keep this for now, Mademoiselle.

Now, if Le Gon has the gold,

where do you think he'd keep it?

- I don't know.

- Does he have a safe or a strongbox?

Anything like that in the store?

- I never saw one.

He wears a belt, with pockets.

- A money belt?

- He gave us some money from it once.

- Hmm.

Then first thing tomorrow morning,

we're gonna have to take a look.

[light music]

Come on, Jezebel [clicks tongue] come on.

Atta girl.

Howdy!

What's your price on mink?

- 10 cents to you.

- 10 cents?

That's kinda low, can't do better than that?

I'm selling.

- You are not selling here, so keep going.

- Well they're prime pelts, I paid a high price for 'em.

But I'm willing to take a loss if you pay in gold coin.

- Boy, I'm a busy man.

Get that mule out of here.

- Alright.

Come on, Jezebel.

Now, Jezebel, come on.

Jezebel!

Come on, be a good girl.

Jezebel!

Well.

It's no good.

Jezebel's in one of her stubborn moods.

You can't move her when she's like this,

not even if you put a fire under her.

Well, while Jezebel's makin' up her mind,

maybe you'd like to take a look

at one of these $50 gold slugs.

Ever see one of these?

- If you don't move that mule, I will.

- [laughs] I wish you would.

- Brissak, if that mule is here in 10 seconds, sh**t it.

- Aw, Brissak, you wouldn't sh**t Jezebel, would you?

- [chuckling] Just wait 10 seconds and see, monsieur.

- Alright, tell you what I'll do.

I'll bet this $50 gold piece that Brissak doesn't sh**t.

- It's a bet.

- Alright, you tell him to drop the g*n.

Go on!

- Brissak, drop your g*n.

[g*n thuds]

- Take off your shirt, Le Gon.

- You take it off.

Now I will crack your skull open.

Come closer, monsieur.

We'll see how expert your knife hand is now.

- After the buttons of your shirt.

- Stand still!

- The shirt, and then the money belt,

and the gold you took from a dead man's body.

- You will never get it from me, boy.

Never.

Let me get my hands on you, boy, just once.

[fist thudding]

- And now the money belt.

Well, now, look at this.

It's the gold I gave Brasseur.

Only the m*rder*r could have this.

Stop him!

- Get a rope!

Let's hang him! - Now wait a minute,

there's gonna be a no lynch rule here.

Come on, on your feet.

There.

Father Michel's on his way from Natchitoches

with a representative of the law.

They may be guilty, but they've gotta have a trial.

Go on, lock 'em up.

- Come on. [tense music]

- Alright, Jezebel, you beauty.

You've earned yourself an extra special feed.

[intensifying music]

- I have asked you to assemble here today

to meet Captain Marsh.

He has something to tell you.

- The Western Company has been operating

in violation of the law.

Its claim to an exclusive right to your furs,

under a French charter, are false.

You have the right, as American citizens,

to sell your furs anywhere you please.

To anyone you please.

You don't have to forget your French heritage,

it's a great one.

Liberty, equality, fraternity.

Just another way of saying you're American.

- Thank you, Captain.

I'll be here at your next rendezvous,

and if anyone outbids me you sell to him!

- [Man] I will do that, yeah.

[all laughing]

- Oh, I was almost forgetting.



$1500.

[crowd gasps]

That oughta take you to New Orleans.

- Thank you, monsieur.

I'll be going there soon.

- Good trapping.

[light music]

- Au revoir, monsieur!

Au revoir!

[all chattering]

♪ Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie

♪ He was a fighter, a fearless and mighty adventurin' man ♪