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Blackthorne
Cinemagenics 52-53
Review Part X
“Thank-you all for the patience & persistence it takes
in trying to keep up with, & fully grasp, the scope of
this poetic cinematic saga. We’re close to a wrap now
on the requested review of the previous episodes. On
the next OLN, I will post the original Cinemagenic 54,
and (smile), we will be current.”--Glenn.
Fifty-One: Intruders--The scene opens at the men’s
campsite, as the fiery morning sun, a few minutes high,
has blood red shafts still dancing through the ragged
clouds that hug the foothills. Buck is waking up to the
smell of frying bacon, steaming coffee, bubbling white
beans & sourdough biscuits. Johnny, “Good afternoon,
boss--you about ready for some vittles? Buck nodded
as he stood up & stretched. Behind him was the corral
trap. The Appaloosa stood watching him. The pair of
mares were down on folded legs, munching grass. A
jack rabbit burst out of the brush near them. Cheewa
lunged to the chase. jumping over the fire, spilling
some of the coffee. “Besa mi culo, boss, your dog
nearly trampled our fine breakfast.” Yawning, Buck
said, “He’s just getting after his own meal. I’m sure
sorry he spilled the coffee.” Both men laughed, then
Johnny became silent, “You need to wake up, my
Buck--looks like we got company.” 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 & jacked a shell into the chamber.
Cheewa returned with blood on his muzzle, and he
stood next to Johnny, a growling black ramrod. A
swirling dust cloud out on the flats began to fill up
with riders. Buck scooped up his black hat & his
heavy gunbelt--pulled his hat down in front & buckled
the gun belt tightly, 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 heaving chest. He checked the load in his
Colt Thunderer & the sawed off shotgun. He levered
a big shell into the firing chamber of his Sharps, and
leaned it up on the edge of his fancy saddle. Johnny,
“I count cinco culeros riding down on us out of the
darkness--a pack of pendejos.” The Appaloosa stood
as a dappled statue. The mares were on their feet
with the red sun blinking through their scanty manes.
The riders approached out of the sun in the East.
When they were two hundred yards away, strung out in
a Cavalry picket line, Buck asked, “Who is it? Can you
tell yet?” Johnny, “It’s Cash Bronson”.
Fifty-Three; Red Riders--The riders emerge over the rim
with swirling dust rolling over them. Buck & Johnny stood
stiff-backed, facing the horde. Johnny, “Cocked & loaded,
boss.” Buck. “Fucking boy rowdy.” We hear the fire
popping & the dog growling over a slide guitar riff. The
riders come in at full gallop, the sun rising behind them,
their faces in red shadow. They pulled up hard and fast,
as their horses snorted, nickered & pranced--heaving and
steaming. Johnny recognized all them, his eyes hardening.
Buck thought, “Alright, the honcho in front has to be
Bronson.” That man sat on a golden palomino. His gear
was Vaquaro-ornate. with wide silver-studded stirrups,
chest halter & skirts. He wore a wide-brimmed white hat
with the sides rolled up perfectly, a stark white shirt--now
dust-smeared, a thick leather string tie pulled through
a silver stallion head bolo, a weathered buckskin vest,
tight brown denims, and fancy knee-high well-polished
boots--complete with cruel silver spur, the rowels still
spinning. A .44 Smith & Wessen hung on his left hip.
Perfect white buckskin gloves covered his small hands.
He was a big man, nearly as tall as Buck, but heavier.
He was clean shaven & had pasty pale skin, with thick
eyebrows, soot onyx eyes, & a prominent patricians'
nose. On Bronson’s left were three wire-thin jumpy
wranglers--to his right was a very tall lean fellow on
a coal gelding, whose icy green eyes waited for Buck
to notice him. He had a long thin face with dark circles
under his eyes. Buck thought, “Now this piece of work
has to be Thor”. An awkward minute ambled by, Buck
& Johnny were taunt & ready. Finally someone spoke.
Glenn Buttkus
