image from westernpulp.com
“People who have never had a broken heart will
never understand dead roses, sun breaks, truffles
Albinoni’s Adagio, neat brandy, the moon or drizzle.”
1(sound cue) piano and harmonica.
2(medium close-up) Bronson: his head down, his big
hands on his hips--Goddamn it, Mr. Buck, I swear, you
are a magnet for death. You are more trouble than my
town has ever seen.
3(close-up) Buck: Your town?
4(three-shot) Bronson: Blackthorne is going to take a
long spell to recover from a case of you.
Wallace: Truth be told, Cash, you’re the locust, not
him. He was born here. He belongs.
5(medium wide shot) Bronson stepped in closer to the
Sheriff: Where you hit, Joe?
Hop: In the pride.
Bronson: I doubt anyone ever died from that.
He said this without emotion, then turned on his heel,
and pushed his way back out to the street.
Hart, the blacksmith: We got to get you over to Doc’s.,
helping the sheriff to stand up.
Hop: NO! jerking himself free from the burly blacksmith.
He shook his head, squinting, swallowing hard.
No, you bring the sawbones to me. No one is going to
get to my prisoner--no one.
Wallace: Sorry, we can’t do that, Joe. You know how
busy he is right now. Christ, he’s got patients lying on
his damn stairs.
6(two-shot) Salina had both arms around Buck.
7(close-up) From her hand bag she pulled out a snub-
nosed Derringer, and stuffed it into the back of his pants.
For Buck the cold steel felt comforting.
8(medium close-up) Hop: Then someone let him know
to come over when he can. He waved his pistol at the
group in the doorway. Clear the hell out of here, all
9(close-up) Salina: I’ve got disinfectant and some
bandages in my bag, plunking the bag onto Hop’s
desk, and starting to rummage through it.
10(sound cue) loud gunshot.
11(cut to medium wide shot) Hop fired his Colt
into the ceiling, and the bullet ricocheted off a
cell steel bar.
Hop: Henry, you and Salina stay, and everyone
else get the hell out of here!
People left quickly. Hart lingered for a moment
at the door, then closed it. Silence was sweet.
Buck sat down on a chair next to the pot-bellied
stove. He picked up two hunks of firewood from
an adjacent box, and stoked the dying embers
in the iron belly.
12(sound cue) The squeak of the stove door over
harmonica and banjo.
13(two-shot) Salina ripped hop’s bloody shirt sleeve
back, and dabbed cotton on the wound in his
14(cut to a wide-shot) Buck put a pan of water on the
stove, and Wallace stood by the window, watching
the street. Hop loaded his pistols.
Buck: Got any whiskey?
Hop: In the cupboard behind the coffee.
Wallace: What do you want to do with these bodies?
standing over the dead deputy.
Hop: Strip them of their hardware, and stack it on
my desk, then drag all four bodies outside onto the
boardwalk. They can be collected tomorrow. His
voice sounded raspy.
Salina: Untie your holster--the large cotton swab
matted with purple-black blood.
Hop did as he was requested, sliding his holster to
the side. He placed both .45s on the desk in front
of him. Wallace dropped four gun belts alongside
Salina: You got another pair of pants?
Hop nodded, watching Wallace check the load on
Billy’s shotgun. The Sheriff’s cheeks fluttered, but
his jaw was set and he never winced in pain. Salina
cut the pant’s leg around the thigh wound, cutting
small pieces, and working them carefully out of the
torn swollen flesh, like peeling a peach with tweezers.
Wallace: This has been some goddamned night, as
he dragged the last intruder out of the door.
15(sound cue) saxophone and guitar.
Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub OLN