Blackthorne--Scene 49

painting by paulus potter

Blackthorne

Cinemagenic Forty-Nine

Intrigue

“Perhaps the habit of intrigue is infectious--in the

air or the walls--like secret passages in the mind.”

--Susan Kenny.

1(cut to medium wide-shot) The two men riding double on the big Red,

with the white stallion limping slowly behind them--on a tether held

fast by the Eagle.

2(sound cue) banjo & guitar.

3(two shot) the pair riding at a walk toward the camera as it moves

ahead of them.

4(tight two-shot) angle on Buck: We need to take it easy on Jesus, but

that’s fine; probably get back to the ranch after dark.

--Johnny: Damn, I feel estupida; almost busted my culo.

5(close-up)angle on Buck: Consider your self twice-lucky, old man, that 

no bones were broken. If my big ass had hit the ground that hard, we’d be 

pulling me home on a fucking travois.

6(angle on Johnny)--Nice idea, but what would you have made it out of--

cactus & horse shit?

--Buck: Hell, we probably would have tied your arms & legs to a couple of

brush poles, & I would have laid out on top of you.

7(sound cue) harmonica & piano. 

8(medium close-up) a pair of prairie dogs standing tall watching the riders

in the near distance.

9(two-shot) angle on Buck: So what about the Appaloosa? Should we hunt

him down, & bring him to ground with a .50 caliber slug of pure vengeance?

--Johnny: Oh, maybe not this time. I got an Apache hunch that one fine day

he will wear the ABuck brand.

10(close-up) Buck: Christ, wouldn’t that be something! But, sombitch--catching

him is like roping a daydream.

11(cut to a two shot) angle on Johnny: I hate to stomp your spit-bubble,

Boss, but I tell you, I really don’t think we can ever run him down. We will

never catch him.

12(close-up) Buck’s face; a wrinkled brow--Does the mighty Eagle, the

grande horse master, the maldito wrangler just give up so easily?

13(sound cue) Indian seed rattle.

14(cut to CU of Johnny) smiling, with his dark eyes twinkling: Chinga that

notion, my Buck. This great mancha will be yours. It’s just that we will need

to trick him, you know, appeal to his cock, & not stir up his fear & pride.

15(angle on Buck)--You mean pony express him--bring fresh mounts with

both of us & hop aboard them mid-gallop when our stallions are blown out?

16(angle on Johnny) --Sure, sure, that might work, but I think that

even then that spotted stud might still run them, or himself, to death.

--Buck: Then how should we do it? Smoke & mirrors don’t impress

a flying demon.

--Johnny: You know that our bad boys are swift; goddamn fast, as

quick as any hammerhead in these parts--until today. That devil

ran our studs right into the ground, race over--& I got the hijo puta

bruises to prove it. He runs like a crazy mountain puma with his

prick on fire, he leaps into the air, flying with his hooves off the ground,

like something out of shaman legend. He gallops like the firewinds

of hell. He is Chatawa.

17(sound cue) harmonica, coronet, & Indian tom-tom.

18(close-up) Buck: Yes, Chatawa--nothing faster, nothing stronger. 

--Johnny: Hey, we’ve got some sexy brood mares back at the ranch--

especially that pretty little palomino bitch.

1(cut to an overhead drone shot) The Appaloosa was loping smoothly,

not in a rush now, halting at the head of a deep gulch.

2(sound cue) a horse herd milling about, hoofbeats, snorting, whinnying

sweet & low over some guitar riffs.

3(cut to a medium wide shot) POV over the heads of a herd of spirited

mustang--fifty strong. In the distance we see the Appaloosa galloping

out of the dim gulch toward them. Several mares see him approaching

& they let the others know.

4( medium close-up) a fat diamond back rattlesnake that’s wrapped around

the gray dusty branches of some sagebrush.

5(sound cue) blues guitar slide & harmonica huffing.

6(cut to medium wide shot) as the Appaloosa gallops past the snake, over

the top of a stationary camera.

7(cut to an overhead drone shot) above the stallion as it rushes to rejoin

its herd.

8(sound cue) snare drum beat over horse’s hooves.  

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub OLN