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“Unrequited love can drive us to ridiculous
extremes, sometimes.”--Marguerite Duras.
1(sound cue) Coronet and harmonica.
2(cut to low medium wide shot) Wallace dragged
the last intruder out onto the boardwalk, and rolled
the broken body into the pig-pile of bloody arms and
3(cut to interior) as Wallace re-enters the jail house.
4(tight four-shot) Buck muttered, Here, holding out
a half-full reddish-brown bottle of Mountain Man
whiskey. Hop took it. The whites of his eyes were
scarlet. Buck stood behind Salina.
Wallace: What are you going to do for a deputy?
Hop: Don’t need one, taking a big swig from the
dark bottle, the whisky-heat masking the pain,
That damned Billy was only half a deputy on his
best days anyway. I should have shot him a long
time ago, as soon as I found out he was on
Salina: Is that water hot yet?
Buck returned to the stove, and stoked some
cedar into its bowels. He liked the feel of the
derringer stuffed down the back of his pants.
Wallace opened the front door, and fanned the
thick sweet-smelling smoke with his derby. The
night had become quiet.
Wallace: Bob Hart might consider deputying for
you for a spell, ‘til you can hire a real one, and
get around a bit better.
Hop: Shut that fucking door before somebody
blows your dick off!
Wallace, chuckling: Well, that’s a pretty small target
these days! He closed the door.
Salina: Pa, shame on you. You shouldn’t lie to the
Sheriff like that.
Wallace: Did you talk to your mother about this?
5(medium close-up) Salina: I’m fixing to head home,
but do me a favor and head over to Doc’s and see if
he needs any more help. But either way, bring back
some iodine. If I’m not here, I’ll be home changing.
6(sound cue) piano and banjo.
7(two-shot) Wallace: Does that meet with your
Hop, looking up, his face sweaty, taking another
scalding swallow of whiskey: Yeah, go ahead, get
some fresh air, and get the lay of things.
8(sound cue) The heavy door closing loudly.
9(three-shot) Hop tipped up the whiskey and gulped
it down. He began to laugh, strangely, low in his
throat, his body barely moving. Salina glanced from
bandaging the Sheriff’s leg wound, and gave him a
Hop: His tongue think with shock and whiskey. Eighteen,
Buck, fucking 18 men deep in blood, and this goddamn
night is not over yet!
Buck said nothing.
Hop: Plus a half dozen more over to the Doc’s.
Buck, quietly: Johnny Eagle says life is a war, and only
Hop, not hearing Buck, After all this, maybe I should just
let Bronson have you. Hell, the horse troughs are over-
flowing with blood tonight--a little more don’t count for
Salina, not looking up, Joe, you already picked a side.
Hop: And now we hear from Miss Innocence, his eyes
fastened on one wet curl that dangled by her pink ear.
10(close-up) the curl.
She pinned the bandage on the front side of Hop’s leg,
then stood up and stepped back, putting an arm around
Buck’s waist. Her eyes were red and tired, with dark
circles beneath them. She folded her arms and stared
at the Sheriff. Hop finished off the last of the whiskey
and tossed the empty bottle at the wall.
11(sound cue) saxophone squawk over glass shattering.
Hop: You fucking bitch!
12(medium close-up) Salina, slowly shaking her head:
Jesus Christ, Joe...not you too?
13(two-shot) Hop: Why not? beginning to tie cross-draw
down on his left leg. Spitting while he snarled,
You were willing to take up with Thor Bronson, but you
never gave me the time of day.
Salina; Hell, Joe, you never asked me. She moved closer
to Buck who was standing in the archway behind them.
Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub