Blackthorne Episode 138

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Blackthorne

Cinemagenic 138

Reprisal

“If you won’t take a stand for fear of reprisals, 

you are just feeding the crocodile, hoping he

will eat you last.”--Ronald Reagan. 

1(sound cue) harmonica and bass guitar.

2(medium wide shot--low light) Buck stood to one

side in the corner of the building. There was a wide 

aisle down the center, with ten horse stalls on each

side. Most of the stalls were occupied. Some of the

horses stirred and whinnied softly.

  At the opposite end, near the tall barn doors, there

were two larger stalls, both with a tin water tub, and

big feeding troughs. Buck slid back a dirty muslin

curtain off a small window. Pale moonlight wafted in.

Bronson’s palomino was in the stall to the right. A

dappled stallion was in the stall on the left, an

Appaloosa--Chatawa.

3(sound cue) soft piano and violin.

4(medium close-up) Buck held his hand out, and the

stippled stud put his wet nose in it. The hunter 

scratched behind the marbled ears, and Chatawa

rubbed his big head against Buck’s chest. Buck

began to look for a rope or a bridle. He heard a door

open, but he turned too late.

5(sound cue) Coronet squawk.

Don’t move, a dark figure in the doorway said, his

face in shadow, a long barreled Colt pointing at

Buck, the moonlight shining on the barrel.

6(two-shot) How you doin’ ? Buck asked, his hands

in the air. The intruder struck a match. The sulphur

flash lit up his face. It was Ryker.

I don’t know who the hell you are, the crusty foreman

said, but if you move, I’ll plug you.

Ryker reached behind him, and pulled a lantern off the

wall, and lit it. Buck stood quietly as the light from the

flaming oil revealed who he was.

7(medium close-up) Buff hunter, goddamn, exclaimed

the foreman, his Navy Colt .36 leveled at Buck’s chest.
You are one crazy sonofabitch to show up here.

8(close up) Buck: I came after what’s mine.

9(two-shot) Ryker: What might that be?

stepping closer, his Colt in one hand and 

the swaying lantern in the other.

This horse, Buck said.

Ryker laughed, braying like a mule, showing

his yellow teeth: I think we need to march over

to the big house and discuss this with Mr. Bronson.

10(traveling shot) Buck’s flat black hat flew off his

head and into Ryker’s face. 

11(sound cue) snare drum Bap.

12(tight two-shot) For half a moment, the foreman

stepped back, stunned and confused. Springing

like a ferret, Buck slapped the pistol out of Ryker’s

hand and smacked him on the chin. The foreman’s

eyes enlarged with fear as he spun around and tried

to run. Buck tackled him before he got three steps.

The lantern dropped and hit the floor, shattering and

writhing with new flames. Ryker thrashed about, 

screaming like a girl. Buck held him down with one

hand and drew the Thunderer with the other. He

pistol-whipped the old wrangler, thunking him twice.

Ryker stopped his struggling. 

13(cut to exterior of the barn) Buck stood up and

closed the barn door. No one else was outside.

14(sound cue) Voices carried across the yard from

the white Victorian ranch house.

15(medium close up) the flames sputtered as they

struggled to take hold midst fresh mud-soaked hay

and manure.

16(sound cue) banjo and fiddle.

17(medium wide shot) the sputtering flames provided

Buck with needed light, as he swooped up his black

hat and stepped into the Appaloosa’s stall. A lariat

was coiled up on a tool box. He unraveled it, and 

with his skinning knife he sliced off two lengths of

rope. He made a loop and passed it over the head

of his stallion, draping it on an arched neck. With the

other piece he roughly bound Ryker’s hands as he

twisted his arms behind him. Then he lashed him to

the stall gate, and stuffed a cleaning rag into his

mouth. Buck nodded at his work, and began walking

Chatawa toward the rear door. 

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub OLN