ethan?
how's california?
but mose harper said.
it was ethan found you squallin' in a sage clump after your folks was massacred.
ben! deborah! bed!
the war ended three years ago, boy!
they gave up.  went back to the cotton rows.  so'd the jamisons.  without martha, i don't know.  she wouldn't let a man quit.
ethan, i could see it in you before the war.  you wanted to clear out!
and you stayed out beyond all need to.  why?
you're my brother.  you're welcome to stay as long as you got a mind to.  ain't that so, martha?
mint fresh.  not a mark on 'em.
time for bed.
night, ethan.  come 'long, martha.
reverend.  come in!
you mean those pure breds he just bought?
ain't goin' volunteerin' after rustlers without my morning coffee, reverend.  drink your own!
ethan, countin' on you to look after things while i'm gone.
now, ethan, i ain't sure.
think i'll see if i can pick off a sage-hen or two, martha.
won't go far.
mind you sweep up them shavin's.
he is walking through the scrub and brush grass, every sense alive and straining. he pauses every three or four strides -- casting each quadrant in turn. once he whips, gun ready, as a sage-hen or quail whirrs up not far from him. he smiles grimly as he watches it fly away. he keeps on.
in the house, boy.  and.
ben, close the shutters.
lucy!
hurry, martha.  moon's fixin' to rise.
now!
child, child!
there's no time.
down low -- go!
here dog.  here!
she reached the ditch.
she'll be all right, mother.  she'll be all right.