California Frontier

General Wyatt:
Captain, you've heard, of course, that California may be admitted into the Union as a state?

Buck Pearson:
I've heard some Congressional rumblings, sir.

General Wyatt:
Well, we're getting a lot of troublesome reports from out there. The Constitution of the United States guarantees protection for all people within its borders, but there are unscrupulous men at work creating a reign of terror against the Mexican landowners.

Buck Pearson:
There's always disorder where there's gold and fertile land involved, sir, and that country has both.

Buck Pearson:
I'd like to get a room.

Bartender:
All right. Sign here.

Buck Pearson:
How much are they?

Bartender:
Thirty dollars.

Buck Pearson:
Thirty dollars is pretty steep for a week, isn't it?

Bartender:
Thirty dollars a day!

Buck Pearson:
The room ought to be big enough to hold my horse.

Bartender:
Oh, two in a room? That'll be ten dollars extra.

Buck Pearson:
I was here a while ago, but the office was closed.

Land Agent Barclay:
I know. I was at a funeral.

Buck Pearson:
Oh, I guess you don't feel any too much like working today, then.

Land Agent Barclay:
Oh, I don't know. It wasn't my funeral.

Buck Pearson:
Isn't he the land agent here?

Land Agent Barclay:
He was. I told you I was at a funeral.

Buck Pearson:
Oh. What happened?

Land Agent Barclay:
Poisoning.

Buck Pearson:
Ptomaine?

Land Agent Barclay:
Lead.

Mal Halstead:
And in case you should happen to find any Mexicans camping out on the place, you know what to do.

Buck Pearson:
Why, no. Just exactly what do I do?

Mal Halstead:
Throw 'em off! They don't belong there. And if they holler, gun 'em off! This land is for Americans.

Buck Pearson:
Ohh, I throw 'em off?

Mal Halstead:
That's right... and you might let me know how you make out.

Juan Cantova:
Maybe you'll suffer a little bit before you die.

Mal Halstead:
They'll hang you, Mexican!

Juan Cantova:
But you will not live to see it.

[last lines]

General Wyatt:
Captain Pearson!

Buck Pearson:
Yes, sir!

General Wyatt:
Your orders are to return to California to cement our friendship with our new Americans. Of course, I shall be the best man at the wedding.

Buck Pearson:
Is that an order, sir?

General Wyatt:
It is, Captain.

[to Dolores]

Buck Pearson:
That's an order.

Dolores Cantova:
Orders are orders.

[Buck bends to kiss Dolores]

General Wyatt:
Captain Pearson!

Buck Pearson:
Yes, sir!

General Wyatt:
One mile from the flagpost.