Come on here, Cim. Atta boy.
My son, you're going to see more Indians
then you ever thought of.

I never heard of such a thing.
What do you mean, Sabra?
You're not going.

Why a Venable should ever
marry such a man, a buffalo hunter.

- Quite right.
- Annie.

A quart of whiskey a day,
living in that dreadful Cimarron country.

- What is Cimarron?
- Savage, Cousin Hewitt.

It means wild, unruly.
Yancey's idea of a name for the boy, Cim.

You don't like anything Yancey does.
You never have.

And that newspaper of his,
Wichita Wigwam.

Editorials about Indian's rights.
You might think Yancey
was an Indian himself.

Who knows?
Some half-breeds are no darker.

- Don't you dare say that.
- I heard he killed a man.

I won't listen to you any longer.
I don't care about Yancey's past.

I married him because I loved him,
and I'm going with him.

- Sabra.
- I never heard of such a thing.

Yancey, where's that iron skillet?
I can't find it anywhere.

- Right here, sugar, with the stove.
- Why didn't you tell me?

Cim, honey, get up off the ground.
It's too damp.

You know, I think we ought to
get out that old rag rug...

and put it down here for supper.
Right you are, honey.