Plot
A drifter named Hogan spots and saves a naked woman from being gang-raped by several bandits whom he shoots and kills. He later learns that the woman, Sara, is a nun working with a group of Mexican revolutionaries who are fighting the French. When Sara requests that Hogan take her to a Mexican camp, he agrees because he had previously arranged to help the Mexican revolutionaries attack the French garrison in exchange for a portion of the garrison's strongbox if they are successful.
As the duo heads toward the camp, Hogan is surprised that the nun smokes his cigars and drinks his whiskey. When he attempts to detonate a charge to destroy a French ammunition train, he is shot with an arrow in the shoulder. Sara is able to bandage him, but he is still unable to shoot the charge to disable the train. Sara assists him in angling his rifle, and the two are able to destroy the train together. Eventually the two reach Juarista commander Col. Beltran's camp and Sara reveals the layout of the French garrison. She then reveals to Hogan that she is not a nun but a prostitute posing as a nun, and the two team up, infiltrate the fortress and open the gates for the Mexican revolutionary forces to swarm through.
An epic battle ensues; Hogan demonstrates great bravery in the battle by singlehandedly gunning down several French soldiers. The French retreat and the Mexicans capture the fort. As promised, Hogan receives a big portion of the riches in the fort. Now wealthy and his job completed, Hogan and Sara set off together for further adventures.
Read more about this topic: Two Mules For Sister Sara
Famous quotes containing the word plot:
“Those blessed structures, plot and rhyme—
why are they no help to me now
I want to make
something imagined, not recalled?”
—Robert Lowell (1917–1977)
“Morality for the novelist is expressed not so much in the choice of subject matter as in the plot of the narrative, which is perhaps why in our morally bewildered time novelists have often been timid about plot.”
—Jane Rule (b. 1931)
“James’s great gift, of course, was his ability to tell a plot in shimmering detail with such delicacy of treatment and such fine aloofness—that is, reluctance to engage in any direct grappling with what, in the play or story, had actually “taken place”Mthat his listeners often did not, in the end, know what had, to put it in another way, “gone on.””
—James Thurber (1894–1961)