image from pinterest.com
“How strange that Nature does not knock, & yet
never is the intruder.”--Anonymous.
1(sound cue) Killdee chirping, cricket & bullfrog duet over a harp
2(wide-shot) the fiery morning sun a few minutes high, with blood
red shafts still dancing on thin ragged clouds hugging the foothills.
A small pond in the foreground, with a soft breeze stroking a stand
of cattails. Smoke from a campfire near the far shore rolls into the
sky in the center of the frame.
3(sound cue) Indian branch flute over campfire embers popping.
4(overhead drone shot) moving across the quiet water revealing
a campsite; the red & white stallions were hobbled & grazing up to
the left of two men.
5(close up) Buck opening his eyes.
6(two-shot) the Eagle was squatting over the fire cooking.
7(close-up) Buck blinking & smiling, his nose twitching.
8(cut to medium close-up) Johnny pushing around bacon in a small
blackened frying pan with a long knife. A pair of scorched coffee cans
were propped up in the fire--one full of steaming black coffee, & the
other brimming with bubbling white beans; several sourdough biscuits
sat in a pan next to them.
9(close-up) Johnny: Good afternoon, boss--you about ready for some
10(medium two-shot) Buck sat up, raising her knees, & folding up a
red flannel blanket. Cheewa, who had joined them last night, got up &
stretched while yawning.
11(sound cue) horses nickering over guitar chords.
12(reverse wide shot) pulling back smoothly revealing the corral trap
& the three horses in it. The pair of mares were down on folded legs,
munching grass. The tall Appaloosa stood alone watching the prairie
13(close-up) the stallion’s eye, the pupil contracting, his head bobbing.
14(cut to medium close-up) a jack rabbit burst out of the low brush near
the Eagle, making a break for it. Cheewa lunged forward, leaping into the
chase, propelled by a growl, jumping over the edge of the fire, spilling the
coffee a little.
15(close-up) Johnny: Besa mi culo, boss, your dog just about trampled
our fine breakfast.
16(two-shot) angle on Buck: Hey, he’s just getting after his own meal. I’m
sure he’s sorry he spilled the coffee.
17(sound cue) both men laughing over sweet piano & juice harp,
& Cheewa barking.
18(medium close-up) the Eagle stood up & said: You need to get
up, my Buck--we got company.
19(sound cue) coronet & snare drum.
20(two-shot) Johnny with his left hand on his hip, the skinning knife
in his right hand. Buck behind him struggling to his feet, one hand on
his saddle cantle & the other rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He rose up
on one knee.
Buck: Can you tell how many?
Johnny: More than four.
Buck: Well, fuck me first thing in the morning.
The Eagle picked up his Carbine & pumped a shell into the chamber.
Cheewa had returned with blood on his muzzle, & he stood next to
Johnny, a growling black ramrod.
21(medium wide shot) a swirling dust cloud out on the flats began to
fill up with five riders.
22(sound cue) horse’s hooves & blues guitar slide.
23(medium close-up) Buck got to his feet, & stretched his long muscular arms,
running his hands through his salt & pepper locks, brushing out some pine
needles. He scooped up his hat & his heavy wide gun belt. He pulled the flat
black hat low over his eyes, letting the chin strap hang down the back of his
thick neck. He strapped on the gun belt, buckling it tight, pistol cartridges
in front, & .50 caliber brass shells on the back side. He slipped on his
battle vest with the red shotgun shells poking out from his chest. He check-
ed the load on the Colt Thunderer & the sawed off shotgun on his left hip.
He levered a big shell into the firing chamber of his Sharps & leaned it up
on the edge of his fancy saddle. He was wide awake now.
24(medium close-up) Johnny: I count cinco culeros, riding hard down on
us out of the dawn darkness. A pack of pendejos.
25(cut to a medium wide shot) In the corral, Chattawa stood as a dappled
statue, the yellow lariat still dangling from his arched neck. The mares were
up now, all of them still in partial shadow silhouette, with the red sun blinking
through their scanty manes.
26(sound cue) guitar, violin & drums.
27(two-shot) angle on Buck, shading his eyes as the riders approached out
of the sun in the east, When they were two hundred yards out, strung out in
a Cavalry picket line, he asked: Who is it? Can you tell yet?
28(close-up) Johnny: It’s Cash Bronson.
Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub OLN