Blackthorne--Review: Part IV

image from my archives.

Blackthorne

Cinemagenics 26-30

Review--Part IV

“Good news, the treatment for my new screenplay, RIDE

VALIANT, is completed, as now I blue-pencil it & type it

up. Meanwhile, we’ll continue with the review of my first

Western, BLACKTHORNE.”--Glenn.

Twenty-Six: Ambuscado--Cheewa growled, & Buck dove out of

the barber chair, while Barnes just stood there, staring sadly.

Horsemen rode by, & there were three shotgun blasts--the front

plate glass window exploded. Buck: Did you get elected? 

Barnes: No, but I got nominated real good. He was gut shot.

Buck rushed outside, Thunderer in one hand, & sawed off shotgun

in the other. The street was empty, but Cheewa noted dust in the

adjacent alley. As Buck checked out the now vacant alley, someone

behind him got the drop on him. It was the town sheriff. Buck is not

pleased being disarmed.

Twenty-Seven: Detainment--The sheriff was Joe Hop, his deputy was

Marcus. Buck, of course, extolls his innocence. Hop checked out the

Colt .41--This weapon has been fired recently. Buck admits to a

“little scuffle” over at the China Doll; Fellow named Ramos gave me

no choice in the matter. There were a dozen witnesses. Hop asked

straight up: Did you shoot our barber? Buck replied: I had no call to

do that. Buck introduces himself, but is still angry & sarcastic. Things

are interrupted by the storekeeper, Henry Wallace: He’s innocent, Joe,

so back off. I wasn’t the only person who saw that bunch gallop by &

blast out Barnes’ window. Hop tries to keep things calm. Wallace

demands to know where Hop was earlier that day when the ruckus

broke out in the China Doll. Irritated, Hop explained that he had been

out of town, journeying to the county seat to see a judge, & had just

returned. Wallace gave his eye witness account. He had been loading

provisions on Buck’s horse when things lit up. He then hears that the

stranger is named Rod Buck.

Twenty-Eight: Release--Wallace asks if the stranger is any relation to

Bill buck--I’m his son. Hop asks who Bill Buck was. Several of the

townspeople gathered around explained, old Bill had been the town

“character”, & that he used to own that sweet ranch up in the foothills

near Bronson’s place. Hop decides to let Buck go for the moment, but

warned him not to leave town. Hop vows to look into the incident in

the saloon as well. Buck: I never go looking for trouble, but it seems

to jump in front of me whenever it pleases. Hop returns Buck’s

weapons, as the stranger & Wallace walk back across the street

over to the General Store.

Twenty-Nine: Aftermath--Buck was charged four dollars for his

groceries. Buck: What’s happened to this town? Wallace: Cash

Bronson. Wallace flashed on the last time he saw Bill Buck. Old

Bill had stood right there in the store, years before. Wallace tried

to get him to eat some breakfast. Bill: Eating is overrated; it gets

in the way of my drinking. Wallace gives him some money, &

instructs him to go to the cafe for a meal. 3 hours later, Wallace

was told that Buck had gotten drunk again, & was on his way

back to the store, when he passed out in the street, right under

the wheels of a moving stagecoach. Wallace then looked at

young Rod Buck, in front of him. He offered Buck a sip of some

“tanglefoot”. They drank together but Wallace’s eye reflected

the old sadness.

Thirty: Whiskey Words--Buck gulped at the home-distilled shine,

& remarked at its mule kick. Buck: Damn your eyes, this juice

could kill ticks. They discussed the shooting at the barber shop.

Wallace figured it was Bronson’s men trying to silence Barnes.

Buck disagreed: Pretty sure they were gunning for me. I had

quite a row with his little brother, Paully, over at the pig wallow.

Wallace considered this, but contended “Shit like that happens

over there way too often. Young man, you’ve only been back in

town for a couple of hours, & already got scorpions in your boots”.

Wallace assumes this all means the stranger will “ride on”. 

Buck assures him: No, I think I’ll be sticking around for a piece.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub OLN