image from westernpulpcovers.com
“If you want to know who your friends are, get
yourself a jail sentence.”--Charles Bukowski.
1(sound cue) harmonica.
2(medium wide shot) The lath-thin deputy nodded,
and the great steel door slammed.
3(sound cue) the clash of steel echoed across
4(medium close-up) Hop leaned the Sharps up
against the adobe wall behind the desk, resting
against the gun rack
5(two-shot) Buck: Is it actually necessary for me to
be behind bars?
Buck: You got a plan?
Hop: I’m fixing to bake one right now. I’m not happy
that you blew up my original idea. If we could have
met with Bronson, with the whole town watching, we
might have forced him to be somewhat civil.
Buck: That’s down the crapper.
Hop: No shit. I should have kept you on a leash.
Buck: Bronson would have cut it.
Hop: You didn’t have to go into the CHINA DOLL
with that Indian and pull on the whole crowd.
Buck: Do you understand that I didn’t have a choice?
I was after Ramos. He walked into the cantina and shot
Mateo in cold blood.
Hop: Even more of a reason to have waited for me.
Buck: In the blood of the moment, that’s not the way
I saw it.
Hop: shaking his head, That’s why you find yourself
incarcerated. You given me a lot to sort out.
Buck: after a pause: Tell me something, Joe--why
were you with Bronson?
Hop: No mystery there. We both arrived at the same
time, and stood there until the gunfire died down.
Buck: I’d be obliged if you tell me where you stand.
Are you Bronson’s shill?
Hop: Christ, does it look like it? I’m standing between
you two, upholding the rule of law. He smiled, his teeth
white but irregular. He jerked his thumb toward the
small cell in the corner. Buck remained seated, and
he began to move slightly toward the Sheriff,
Hop: Try it and you’ll gather lead
Buck: I’m still pretty angry. I’d feel better if you were
pointing iron at me. He still was not moving.
Hop: anger now in his voice. Pardner, I don’t care
about your feelings. This time you’re going to do what
I’m telling you, no margin for error. Get your butt into
Buck: tense as a coiled spring: I could overpower you.
Hop, still smiling: You wouldn’t live through the
6(sound cue) banjo and piano.
7(cut to medium wide shot)
Buck stood up, then smiled: I was just fucking with you.
He walked toward the iron bars, his face still red, and
then stood in front of the small cell.
Hop, cheerfully: It’s open--make yourself to home
Buck pushed the barred door open with the toe of his
boot, and stepped into the cell. A plank bed hung from
chains on the mud wall. The bedding was clean. The
floor smelled of soap. He sat on the bunk, with his broad
back against the wall, staring at the Sheriff. The cell door
was left wide open. Hop rolled himself a smoke.
8(close-up) Buck: Seems to me, you’re leaving a lot
9(wide two-shot) Hop: It’ll work out.
Buck: I don’t think Bronson will wait a week for
the judge. He’ll crack this jail like an axe on a coffee
can He’s still got a dozen guns.
Hop: You let me worry about that. I am not giving
Buck: When the nut-cutting commences, let me have
a gun. I promise not to try and escape.
Hop: I won’t be doing that.
Buck: Why in hell not?
Hop: It wouldn’t be prudent, and besides being illegal,
it would make me look weak.
Buck: Weak is better than dead.
10(sound cue) blues guitar slide.
Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub OLN