The River Runs Red By Coby Dominus

INT. SALOON. NIGHT. Late 1800’s: The saloon is crowded. There’s people at the bar, the tables, and a piano player. In addition, there are four people sitting at a Poker table, cards in hand. A Kid (early 20’s, innocent) walks in. His face contorted with rage, his fingers on the handle of his holstered revolver. THE KID: Which one of you sorry sons of bitches is Abraham Jessa? The whole bar turns to look at the poker table. POKER PLAYER #3 (grizzled, black hair, mid-30’s) clears his throat. POKER PLAYER #3: I do believe that there’s my name. State your business. THE KID: Two weeks ago, you shot and killed my father. ABRAHAM: And what is it you’re lookin’ for regardin’ that? THE KID: Vengeance. ABRAHAM smirks, and shakes his head. ABRAHAM: Boy, you wanna tango, I’ll tango. But if you’re trying to act a big man with something to prove and ain’t willing to back it up, you’ll be wasting everybody’s time here, including your own. Now, my "dancing shoes" are in the back room. I’m to go fetch ’em. Abraham gets up. Noticeably, there’s nothing around his belt. ABRAHAM: If you’re here when I get back, you best be ready. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

2.

Abraham walks off frame. THE KID: (to everybody) How come he don’t wear a gun. POKER PLAYER #2: He’s ahABRAHAM (O.S.): Impulsive. He walks back into frame, holster now on his waist. ABRAHAM: Wouldn’t wanna do anything in the spur of the moment I’d later regret. Abraham and The Kid now stand across from each other. They stare each other down. ABRAHAM: You’re still here. You’re ready, then? The Kid nods. ABRAHAM: Son, have you ever been in a duel before? THE KID: Once. ABRAHAM: I’ll give you one last chance to leave. THE KID: Not until you get what’s comin’. ABRAHAM: Boy, you don’t leave now, you ain’t leavin’ at all. THE KID: Don’t. ABRAHAM: Fine. *clears throat* (MORE) (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: ABRAHAM: (cont’d) Now this here’s an old saloon, and here we will follow the rules. You draw early, every motherfucker in this joint will pull on you. Y’understand? The Kid nods again. ABRAHAM: Then I’ll be as clear with those guidelines as I can. Now I’m gonna have that there Piano Player play three notes. When he hits that third note, we draw. You got any questions? The Kid shakes his head ’no’. ABRAHAM: (to Piano Player) Piano Player! Play them notes! FIRST NOTE... Fingers stroking the handles of their guns. They stare each other down. Abraham’s gaze doesn’t waver. The Kid starts to blink repeatedly. SECOND NOTE... Abraham looks cool as a cucumber. Sweat’s now pooling across The Kid’s brow. THIRD NOTE. Before The Kid can get his gun he’s hit, a gaping whole where his right eye used to be. He falls.

3.

Abraham’s standing across, his stance wide, holding his gun out, Smoke oozing out of the gun’s barrel. Abraham holsters his gun and goes back to the poker table, his face emotionless. He picks up his cards, looks at them, then places them back down on the table. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

4.

ABRAHAM: I’m all in. POKER PLAYER #1: Who was that? ABRAHAM: Him? Abraham gestures to the corpse. POKER PLAYER #1: Yeah, him. ABRAHAM: Dunno. POKER PLAYER #1: You know his father. ABRAHAM: Can’t say I do. POKER PLAYER #1: Then how come you just accepted a duel, if you ain’t aware of the grounds on which said duel completely relies on? ABRAHAM: Look Charlie, what do you do for fun? CHARLIE: I can’t quite see how that relates toABRAHAM: Just answer the question. CHARLIE: I got a German Shepard. I teach it tricks. ABRAHAM: Well Charlie, I ain’t got no dog. I got a gun, a last I checked, a gun is an inanimate object, so I can’t exactly teach it tricks. Now in my humble opinion, ain’t no more satisfying feeling in the world then shooting another man, so s’not like I’m ’bout to turn down a free (MORE) (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

5.

ABRAHAM: (cont’d) invitation to do just that. You got yer dog, I’ve got my Colt. POKER PLAYER #1: Well, I fold. POKER PLAYER #4: As do I. ABRAHAM: That leaves you an’ me, Charlie. What’s your play? Charlie stares at his cards, unsure. CHARLIE: Fold. I goddamn fold. Abraham reaches out to the chips in the center, and drags them across the table towards his haul. ABRAHAM: Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. The body still lies where it fell, blood pooling out, seeping into the wooden floorboards. EXT. TRAIN. DAY. A train moves across the track, silhouetted against the sun. It passes on bridges over rivers and ponds. The wheels turn and sparks fly. The Engine lets loose a pillar of black smoke into the clear air. Passengers stare out at the great West, their jaws agape in awe. TITLE CARD We swoop in through an open train window, passing by people sitting and chatting about god knows what. On the last bench on the left of the train car, there’s a man asleep, his hat tipped downwards, covering the top half of his face in shade. His feet are up on the bench in front of him. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

6.

There’s an old white, and from the looks of it religious lady on this bench, and the man’s "posture" displeases her. She scowls. OLD WHITE LADY: (coughs) Ahem hem. The man doesn’t move an inch. OLD WHITE LADY: (coughs, but this time louder) AHEM HEM. The man groans. He’s awake now, but barely. OLD WHITE LADY: Sir? Excuse me, sir? The man groans again. He spits. OLD WHITE LADY: Sir? MYSTERIOUS MAN: What. OLD WHITE LADY: Could you move your feet? Please. I can’t get no rest if when I lay my head down, it comes into contact with your heel. The man mumbles. He moves his feet. OLD WHITE LADY: Thank you. The man once again mumbles inaudibly. A conductor walks into the train car they’re currently in. CONDUCTOR: We will be arriving at SUICIDE SPRINGS in five minutes. This trains gotta be at the other side of state by midnight, so pack now. We won’t be stopped for long.

7. EXT. TRAIN PLATFORM. DAY. The train pulls away, revealing the Mysterious Man (late 30’s, blue eyes, clean shaven), the Old White Lady and two others standing on a crude platform, atop which a lone, shittily painted sign reading SUICIDE CREEK stands. You can see a town in the distance behind them, about a mile away. The Old Woman looks at the sign. OLD WHITE LADY: What a horrible, horrible name for a town. She looks past the sign, at the town in the distance. OLD WHITE LADY: That’s it, I assume. MYSTERIOUS MAN: Yup. OLD WHITE LADY: How far do you reckon that there town is? MYSTERIOUS MAN: ’bout a mile. OLD WHITE LADY: And I’m expected to walk? The Mysterious Man smirks. MYSTERIOUS MAN: You’re ah, not from ’round these parts, are you? OLD WHITE LADY: Certainly not. The Mysterious Man walks off the platform and begins to stroll towards the town. OLD WHITE LADY: Don’t leave me. I can’t get there on my own. MYSTERIOUS MAN: (without turning back) Welcome to the West. He walks off towards the town, the lady left on the platform to her own devices.

8. EXT. STREETS OF SUICIDE CREEK. DAY. The Mysterious Man walks through the streets. There’s a fair amount of people scattered around them, all minding their own business and talking amongst themselves. The town looks plain and dull, stereotypical of the Old West down to the last nail, sans a grand old town hall at the center, its Victorian Architecture completely out of place. The Mysterious Man stops in front of a Saloon. He looks up, at the sign, as if to confirm the building’s purpose, and walks in. INT. SALOON. DAY. We’ve been here before. Not a week ago, Abraham Jessa shot and killed some kid who came in and challenged him to a duel. The Mysterious Man looks down at the floor at a faded blood stain. He mumbles to himself. He walks up to the bartender (early 40’s, balding and bespeckled). MYSTERIOUS MAN: Got rooms? BARTENDER: Sure do. Twenty five cents a night. The Mysterious Man reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small gold coin. MYSTERIOUS MAN: I don’t know how long I’m to be staying in this here town, but this should cover it. He tosses the coin to the Bartender. BARTENDER: Jesus. Hell’d you get this? MYSTERIOUS MAN: It matter? BARTENDER: Suppose not. The Mysterious Man turns and begins to walk towards the stairs. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

9.

BARTENDER: Wait. MYSTERIOUS MAN: Hmmm? BARTENDER: You’ve eh, gotta sign in. MYSTERIOUS MAN: Last I checked this a saloon, not a hotel. BARTENDER: It’s policy. He pulls a pen out from under the bar and holds it out. BARTENDER: What’s it gonna hurt? The Mysterious Man walks up to him and takes the pen. He signs the document that’s now on the desk, then hands back the pen. The Bartender looks down at the sheet of paper, reading the Mysterious Man’s signature. BARTENDER: Samuel Boone. Go up the stairs, any room that don’t have somebody sleeping in it right now is yours. Samuel walks up the stairs to the rooms. He opens the first door on his right. finding it unoccupied, he walks in, removes his holster, jacket and hat, and lies down on the bed. INT. SALOON. NIGHT. The Saloon is now crowded, like it is every night. The bar’s full, as is the poker table. The Bartender’s leaning against the bar, cleaning out a glass with a washcloth. Samuel walks down the stairs and takes a seat at the lone open bar stool. BARTENDER: Beer?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

10.

SAMUEL: Whiskey. The bartender pours him a drink. SAMUEL: Couple days ago, kid came in here and got shot, right? BARTENDER: Came here to avenge his father. SAMUEL: I know that. BARTENDER: How? SAMUEL: That kid was my little brother. He die well? BARTENDER: Lost a duel. Noble way to go. SAMUEL: He get his gun outta his holster? BARTENDER: No. Samuel takes his drink and downs it. SAMUEL: ’nother. The bartender refills his glass. SAMUEL: Dumb bastard. BARTENDER: Why him? Why’d you send your brother. Don’t seem like no coward, butSAMUEL: I didn’t send ’im. I he and my Ma got the time I knew what was fucker was a hundred was away when news. By the going on, that miles away.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

11.

BARTENDER: Didn’t chase after? SAMUEL: Ma ain’t well. Can’t be left to her lonesome, so somebody’s gotta stay. Just hoped for the best. BARTENDER: But you knew he was a dead man. SAMUEL: Soon as he stepped West. Samuel downs his drink. SAMUEL: ’nother. The Bartender refills his drink. BARTENDER: And yer father? SAMUEL: Dead. BARTENDER: Well I already’ve got that much. You know how he died? SAMUEL: Shot in the back. BARTENDER: What makes you say that? SAMUEL: I beg your pardon? BARTENDER: Well, you obviously wasn’t there, what makes you say he got shot in the back? SAMUEL: My father provided security for a railway. The train on the night he was killed was carryin’ two thousand dollars worth of gold. Train got robbed. No survivors.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

12.

BARTENDER: You didn’t answer my question. SAMUEL: Outlaws ain’t honest people. Outlaw oughta shoot somebody facing away, they wanna be good at their job. BARTENDER: You know who killed ’im? SAMUEL: The exact man? No. But the gang? Yeah, I know the gang. BARTENDER: How you know that? SAMUEL: Said as much in the letter. Call themselves THE INNOCENTS. Stupid fuckin’ name. BARTENDER: You know the leader of that there gang? SAMUEL: One Abraham Jessa. Other three are Bart Hayes, Charlie Finneman and Buck Arnold, but Abraham Jessa’s the leader. BARTENDER: That what brought you here? SAMUEL: Knew he, or they for that matter, frequented this town. Got themselves a reputation. BARTENDER: It’s earned. Samuel shrugs, clearly tipsy. BARTENDER: What you gonna do about it, then? SAMUEL: Me and Abraham gon’ have ourselves a little talk.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: BARTENDER: So you just gonna kill the one, then? SAMUEL: All four bastards set to die. This just decides the order. BARTENDER: So you needa talk to him? SAMUEL: Correct. BARTENDER: Well, tonight’s your night. You feelin’ lucky? SAMUEL: Suppose I am. Why?

13.

The bartender points to the Poker Table, and sure enough, there’s Abraham, along with two other (currently unknown to us) players. BARTENDER: The one, right there. That’s your man. SAMUEL: Well, I’m gonna go have myself a little talk. Samuel stumbles over to the poker table.

He stands in front of it, looking straight at Abraham. Abraham notices Samuel standing over them. ABRAHAM: And you are? SAMUEL: Name’s Samuel Boone. ABRAHAM: Well, Samuel Boone... Abraham gestures to the open seat at the Poker Table. ABRAHAM (CONT.): Why don’t you join us? Samuel takes a seat. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: Abraham begins to shuffle the cards. ABRAHAM: This here’s a game of Texas Hold ’Em. You know the rules? Samuel nods. Abraham deals. ABRAHAM: What brings you round these parts? SAMUEL: Came here to avenge my shootings of both my brother and father. Abraham picks up his cards. He sets them down and raps his knuckles on the table (checks). The other three player check as well. ABRAHAM: And who was it that shot ’em?

14.

Abraham burns one, then flips over the first three cards of the river. The Queen of Hearts, the Ten of Spades and the Three of Hearts. SAMUEL: I do believe it was you. Samuel throws two chips in to the pot. Poker Player #1 calls. Poker Player #2 folds. ABRAHAM: Well, ain’t that just peachy? Who was your brother? SAMUEL: His name was Daniel, but I bet you didn’t know that. You shot ’im in a saloon. ABRAHAM: I’ve killed nineteen people in saloons. You’re gonna hafta specify.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

15.

SAMUEL: It this here saloon. Not three nights ago. Abraham calls. He burns one, then flips the next card into the river, the Jack of Spades. ABRAHAM: Ah, him. He challenged me to a duel, you know. SAMUEL: An’ he had every right too. You killed my father too. ABRAHAM: Duel? SAMUEL: Doubt it. ABRAHAM: Then I doubt I’d remember. Ain’t nothing personal. SAMUEL: Don’t change the fact that he’s not coming around any more. ABRAHAM: Fair enough. You gon’ try to kill me too? SAMUEL: Yer whole damn gang. ABRAHAM: I bet fifty. He throws his chips into the pot. SAMUEL: Call. Samuel does the same. SAMUEL: Truth of the matter right now though, I’m not quite in the best state to be duelin’.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

16.

ABRAHAM: You did seem fairly inebriated when you stumbled on over. SAMUEL: Don’t worry though. Yer time will come. ABRAHAM: Well, I look forward to it. Abraham burns one, then lays out the final card, the Five of Diamonds. ABRAHAM: ’s to you. Samuel looks at his cards. SAMUEL: I’ll bet. Twenty. He throws his bet into the pot. ABRAHAM: Call. He does the same. ABRAHAM: Flip ’em. Samuel flips his cards, revealing the Queen of Spades and the Ten of Clubs. SAMUEL: Two pair. Abraham flips his, revealing a Three of Diamonds, and the Ace of Hearts. ABRAHAM: That’s a flush. Abraham reaches out, collecting his winning. ABRAHAM: Boy, when the river runs red and you ain’t got none, you fold. Got yerself enough for the next hand? Samuel looks down at his measly pile of chips.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

17.

SAMUEL: Barely. Abraham tosses him a small stack of chips. ABRAHAM: For yer troubles. SAMUEL: Thanks but, I’m out. ABRAHAM: Have a good night, then. SAMUEL: Be seein’ you. ABRAHAM: I’ll be ready. Samuel walks back to the bar. BARTENDER: How’d it go? SAMUEL: S’not bad. BARTENDER: You find out who killed yer father? SAMUEL: They wouldn’t know. Killed too many. BARTENDER: You eh, decide on an "order" then? SAMUEL: Abraham dies last. I want th’ fear to sink in before he goes. BARTENDER: And the other three? SAMUEL: Order’ll be determined at convenience. BARTENDER: You know how you plan on doin’ it?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

18.

SAMUEL: No, but I’m workin’ on it. Pour me a drink? BARTENDER: Whiskey? SAMUEL: You already know me so well. The Bartender pours the drink. Samuel downs it. He gets up. BARTENDER: You have yerself a good night, then. SAMUEL: You too. He walks up the stairs into his room for the night. EXT. PLAINS. DAY. A rider rides across the frame, silhouetted against the sun. Samuel’s riding through the plains, hunched over his horse. Hooves thunder in rapid succession over the barren, yellow ground. Samuel stops on the edge of a cliff. He reaches into his jacket, and pulls a pair of binoculars. He looks through them. Through the binoculars, we see a small wooden shack. Bart Hayes (long blonde hair, bearded) opens the door and steps out. Samuel lowers his binoculars.

19.

INT. SALOON. DAY. Samuel’s sitting at the bar, conversing with the Bartender. They each have a beer in their hand. SAMUEL: Found Bart. Some shack in the middle of nothingness. No clue why’s he held up in the’ middle of nowhere, but maybe I just lucked out. BARTENDER: Cheers. They toast, then drink. BARTENDER: What’s the play? SAMUEL: That’s where you come in. BARTENDER: I ain’t killin’ anybody, nor leaving town. SAMUEL: You won’t have to. BARTENDER: Then how can I be of service? SAMUEL: You keep bar atta Saloon. You hear things, have access to people in their most eh, "honest state". There will be blood, but I don’t want any unnecessarily spilt. Find a night where he’s alone. No whores, no friends, just Bart. BARTENDER: That’s all you need? SAMUEL: That’s all I need. BARTENDER: I’ll see what I can do. Beat.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

20.

BARTENDER: What you reckon you’ll do ’til then? SAMUEL: Practice. EXT. PLAINS. DAYS. Samuel is standing opposite a fence. Behind the fence is only land, far as the eye can see. There’s a glass bottle sitting on top of the fence. Samuel’s gun is holstered. He draws and shoots. The bullet hits the fence, and from the vibrations it causes, the bottle falls. It shatters. SAMUEL: Fuck. He holsters his gun, then reaches down and pulls up another glass bottle. He walks over to the fence and places it down on top of it. He walks back to where he was previously standing. He draws, then shoots. The bullet hits closer, and once again, the vibrations that it makes cause the bottle to fall, then shatter. A wry smile starts to creep onto Samuel’s face. INT. SALOON. LATE AFTERNOON. Samuel and the Bartender are talking to each other. As per usual after sundown, the Saloon’s packed. SAMUEL: Find anything of note?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

21.

BARTENDER: Might’ve. How was practice? SAMUEL: Startin’ to get the hang of it. BARTENDER: Startin’? SAMUEL: Been a while. BARTENDER: Boy, you’re looking more fucked then a cheap whore. You plan to kill off the four members of the slickest gang this side of Mexico, and you’re startin’ to get the hang of it? Shit. SAMUEL: Them’s my troubles. What’d you get? BARTENDER: He’ll be alone tonight. You ready? SAMUEL: Tonight? BARTENDER: Tonight. SAMUEL: How? BARTENDER: How what? SAMUEL: How do you know he’s alone tonight. BARTENDER: You said it best in a conversation we had a couple days ago. I tend bar atta Saloon. I hear things. SAMUEL: You reliable? BARTENDER: What reason would I have to lie?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

22.

SAMUEL: What reason would you have to tell the truth. BARTENDER: Last year, we had six people die in this bar. This year, we ain’t halfway through and we got four. SAMUEL: ’s bad for business? BARTENDER: Last I checked, people prefer their drinks with a high percentage of alcohol, not blood. SAMUEL: So, tonight? BARTENDER: Tonight. SAMUEL: Well, shit. BARTENDER: You ain’t ready? SAMUEL: Hardly. SAMUEL: Weren’t you just practicing? SAMUEL: After three hours, I can shoot a can offa a fence. Don’t mean shit. Any chance you heard he gonna be alone another night soon? BARTENDER: Ain’t heard nothin’ like that. Wouldn’t take no chances. Samuel grumbles. SAMUEL: Tonight? BARTENDER: Tonight.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

23.

SAMUEL: Well, wish me luck. BARTENDER: (smirks) Good luck. Samuel tips his hat to the Bartender and walks out. EXT. NIGHT. GROUNDS AROUND BART’S HOUSE. Samuel is hiding behind a bush, with Bart’s shack in front of him. The shack window’s dark, it’s clearly empty. A shadowy figure on a horse approaches the clifftop, and stands, contrasting the moon and stars behind it. The figure rides down the path to the level on which the cabin stands and the moonlight reveals him. It’s Bart. He dismounts his horse and enters his cabin. He lights the lamp, and sits down on the cot. Samuel gets up, and begins to slowly tiptoe towards the cabin, his gun draw. BART (O.S.): Who goes there? Samuel stops in his tracks and mumbles something to himself. BART (O.S.): Are ya here to kill me? Beat. BART (O.S.): Look, I believe a man has the right to know why he’s being killed, and who’s doin’ the deed. State yer name, and state yer business. Beat. BART (O.S.): Look, none of this gon’ make a difference in the end. You step in (MORE) (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

24.

BART (O.S.): (cont’d) an’ succeed, what difference does it make. You step in an’ fail, that don’t make no difference neither. Beat. SAMUEL: My name is Samuel. BART (O.S.): I’m not gonna state my name, as I presume you know me. What I don’t know is why yer here t’ kill me. SAMUEL: Might? SAMUEL: One of yer gang. Y’all deserve to die anyways. BART (O.S.): An’ why’s that? SAMUEL: Yer Outlaws. BART (O.S.): Then what does that make you? SAMUEL: I’m a teacher. BART (O.S.): Then put the gun down. SAMUEL: Why? BART (O.S.): Since when does a teacher know how t’ shoot? SAMUEL: You will suffer. BART (O.S.): Y’open this door, you will get winged. Samuel takes a deep breath and begins to slowly walk towards the door of Bart’s shack (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

25.

He swings the door open and a bullet hits the frame, sending off splinters. Bart is sitting on the bed, gun in hand. Samuel shoots, hitting Bart in the arm, causing him to drop his pistol. BART: ARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH! YOU CUNT! Bart grabs his now bloodied arm and begins to rock back and forth in pain. Samuel stands in the doorway, smoke still rising out of his gun from his first shot. He fires again, this time hitting Bart in the jaw. Bart mumbles in pain, no longer able to speak. SAMUEL: Goddamn it. He steps forward. He places the gun at Bart’s forehead, grimacing with his finger on the trigger. Bart begins to flail about, trying to say something, anything. BART: MMMRRMMMPH. Samuel shoots, spraying the contents of Bart’s skull against the wall. The body slumps down on the cot, the blood quickly turning the red sheets white. Samuel looks down at the gun in his hand, then around the interior of the shack. The once drab and plain, yet clean shack has been transformed into something more likely found in hell. Brains on the wall, blood on the floor, and a corpse on the bed. Samuel lowers his gun, and looks down, almost conveying a sense of shame. Not for the kill, but the brutality.

26.

EXT. NIGHT. GROUNDS AROUND BART’S HOUSE. Samuel sits on the ground, cross legged and practically dripped in blood. Across from him, the shack is on fire. Samuel sits, gun still in hand, watching it burn, basked in an orange light from the fire’s effervescent glow. The smoke from the flames blocks out the stars. EXT. STREETS OF SUICIDE CREEK. NIGHT. Samuel walks the middle of the street, brandishing a lit torch. The town is dark, sans the saloon. The Victorian Town Hall looms over everything, it’s shadow cast far by the moonlight. Samuel enters the saloon. INT. SALOON. NIGHT. The Bartender is speaking with a whore named Mary (late 20’s, brown hair, beautiful). They seem to be having a good time. They hear the sound of a door opening and the turn their heads, Mary’s smile quickly transformed into a look of shock and disgust, the Bartender’s merely into a solemn stare. Samuel stands in the doorway, blood pooling at his feet. BARTENDER: Jesus. Samuel begins to walk towards the bar, and as he does so, Mary backs away in fright. MARY: (to Samuel) Who are you? Sameul sits down at the bar and sighs. BARTENDER: (to Mary) His name is Samuel.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

27.

Samuel reaches over the bar and grabs a bottle of Whiskey. He takes a swig. BARTENDER: (to Samuel) How’d it go? SAMUEL: How do you think? The Bartender smirks. BARTENDER: I think you killed him. MARY: Killed? Killed who? BARTENDER: Bart. MARY: Which Bart? BARTENDER: How many Barts do you know that are worth killin’? MARY: That Bart? BARTENDER: That Bart. He’s set to take down the whole gang. MARY: And how is it exactly, that this here one man plans to take down the Innocents. SAMUEL: By picking them off one at a time. Samuel takes another swig. BARTENDER: He’s dead, then? Samuel looks down at his attire. SAMUEL: Well this sure ain’t my blood.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

28.

BARTENDER: Well, what happened? Did you forget to bring your knife n’ gun, and decided to elbow him to death instead? SAMUEL: No, I’m just not the best shot. BARTENDER: Whatta you mean, you’re not the best shot. MARY: What happened. Samuel turns on the stool, now facing Mary. SAMUEL: The fuck are you? MARY: Name’s Mary. SAMUEL: Well Mary, why are you here? BARTENDER: Mary works this here saloon. SAMUEL: What do you mean, works this saloon. BARTENDER: What do you fuckin’ think? SAMUEL: Ah. MARY: You’re the one who just committed murder. Don’t fucking judge me. SAMUEL: I ain’t judgin’. BARTENDER: Answer the question. SAMUEL: What question?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

29.

BARTENDER: The question Mary asked you not a minute ago. SAMUEL: Repeat it. BARTENDER: What happened? SAMUEL: I killed Bart. BARTENDER: How? SAMUEL: Shot ’im. BARTENDER: It don’t look you just shot ’im. SAMUEL: Told you, I’m not the best shot. BARTENDER: Tell what happened. Tell it like a story, and we’re all sittin’ around a campfire. Samuel takes a swig. SAMUEL: So, I go down to his shack and hide in the bushes. I wait, bout an hour or so. I see ’im on the ridge. He comes down, he enters his cabin. I got up and tiptoed over there, gun in hand. I open the door, Bart’s sittin’ there on his bed, don’t know what’s happening. I shoot. Samuel taps his own arm. SAMUEL: First shot hits ’im in the arm. He starts to scream and cuss, and I walk closer so as to finish ’im off. I shoot. Samuel taps his own jaw.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

30.

SAMUEL: Second shot hits ’im in the jaw. He’s still alive, but he’s inna helluva lotta pain. He’s flailing about, blood squirtin’ from him like a fountain. I can’t take no chances with this third shot, so I just put it against his forehead, steel against flesh. He tries to beg, but he can’t speak. Pull the trigger, and bang. He’s dead. It’s a fucking mess. MARY: You just left it? Body’n’all? SAMUEL: No. Threw a torch on it, watched it burn. Then came here, and well, here I am. MARY: You ever killed a man before? SAMUEL: One. BARTENDER: And what is it that you did before you came here to avenge yer family? SAMUEL: Was a school teacher. BARTENDER: How does a schoolteacher end up killin’ a man. SAMUEL: Tell you tomorrow. I should rest, wash up. MARY: There’s a bath inna back. Samuel walks off frame, taking the bottle with him. MARY: (to Bartender) Why’s he doin’ this?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

31.

BARTENDER: Both his brother an’ father died at the Innocent’s hands. He’s here for revenge. MARY: You think it’ll end well. BARTENDER: Usually don’t, but lots stepped up to The Innocents before. Don’t think anyone’s ever killed one yet. We’ll see, though. We’ll see. EXT. BACK ALLEY. NIGHT. Samuel sits in a bathtub, his face solemn and emotionless. The blood drips into the water, and he submerges his head. He opens his mouth (still submerged) and a stream of bubbles begins to flow out. He opens his eyes. INT. SAMUEL’S ROOM. NIGHT. Samuel stands still wet from the bath, but bereft of the blood that once covered him. He stares at the wall that his bed lies against. He takes out his knife and stabs the wall. He begins to carve. Some time later, he removes the knife and stands back from his handiwork to admire it. It’s a list that reads: BART HAYES CHARLIE FINNEMAN BUCK ARNOLD ABRAHAM JESSA He sticks his knife into the wall once again, and etches a horizontal line through Bart’s name.

32.

INT. SALOON. MORNING. It’s barely morning, the sun can’t have been up for more then an hour. The Bartender’s cleaning glasses at the bar, whistling to himself when he hears footsteps. He looks up. Samuel (now clean from last night’s bloodshed) is walking down the stairs. He yawns. BARTENDER: Morning. Sameul mumbles and makes his way to the bar. SAMUEL: That woman at the bar last night, sheBARTENDER: She’s my sister. Her name is Mary. SAMUEL: Ye got any breakfast round here? BARTENDER: I can throw some bacon on a skillet, but that’s about all I can offer. SAMUEL: That’ll do. INT. SALOON BACK ROOM. MORNING. Bacon sizzling. The Bartender stands, making Breakfast. Samuel sits behind him on a barrel, smoking. BARTENDER: So, what happened? SAMUEL: What happened with what? With Bart? I don’t really think I can go inta more detail then I already did last night andBARTENDER: No. I understand that. You said that before you killed Bart you’d killed one before, an’ you also (MORE) (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

33.

BARTENDER: (cont’d) said yer a school teacher, or used to be, and that before you shot Bart in the arm, jaw and brain, you’d killed one before him. I’m curious as to how that was? SAMUEL: Ah. That. BARTENDER: Yes, that. Beat. BARTENDER: Well? SAMUEL: When I found out about my brother, in addition to my father, I decided to come here to avenge them, but y’already know that. What I didn’t tell ya, is how I came here. Now, sure enough I came ’ere by steam engine, but this town’s in the middle of nowhere, and the only way real way here is by train, so y’already know that. What you don’t know is that I taught, and lived for that matter, in a really small town, and when I say small, I don’t mean one thousand or something like that, I mean two hundred people. I was a teacher, my brother farmed the land, an’ you already know what my father did. But that aforementioned small town was around forty miles from any railway, and I couldn’t just bloody walk, so I needed a horse. Now, in that there small town, animals were just about the most valuable thing there, so nobody’s gonna lend you a horse, don’t matter how long you taught them kids, or how liked you are. I needed one, and that night, I just kinda saw somebody atop there steed off in the distance, by luck.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: BARTENDER: But not by their luck, I take it. SAMUEL: Some’re lucky, some ain’t. BARTENDER: But you killed that man, up on that there horse? SAMUEL: Didn’t mean to. Snuck up on the fucker, hit ’im on the head with a rock. Just meant to knock ’im out some. Wasn’t until I had my ass in the saddle that I looked down an’ saw blood poolin’ from his head. At that point, it was just mercy. BARTENDER: So Bart was the first man that you’d ever shot, then? SAMUEL: I’d fired a gun before, but that’d the man I’d ever shot. BARTENDER: Explains the shit aim, then. SAMUEL: Y’ever shot a man. BARTENDER: Just one. SAMUEL: Then you know s’not the same as shootin’ a rabbit or deer. BARTENDER: Bart deserved what he got. That man musta shot twenty who didn’t deserve none of it. SAMUEL: I never said I felt guilt, nor any remorse, but nonetheless, it ain’t the same. BARTENDER: Fair enough. Food’s ready. He brings Samuel a plate full of Bacon.

34.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

35.

BARTENDER: Drink? SAMUEL: Might as well. The Bartender grabs a bottle off the counter and hands it to Samuel. SAMUEL: ’ppreciate it. He takes a drink, and eats. SAMUEL: (with food in mouth) I’ve just about told you my whole damn life story. Samuel swallows. SAMUEL: What’s yours? BARTENDER: You want my life story. SAMUEL: A summary of it, at least. BARTENDER: Well, alright. ISAMUEL: And yer name. I still don’t know yer name. BARTENDER: My name is Richard. SAMUEL: Were ya born here, Richard? RICHARD: Was not. Born inna city, bout fifty miles west. SAMUEL: Which city? RICHARD: The one fifty miles west.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

36.

SAMUEL: Get back to yer story. RICHARD: How I got here? SAMUEL: That, and how you killed a man. RICHARD: Came here to meet a man. He had some sorta new drink, a concoction of some sort. That drink was gettin’ a whole lotta hype, an’ I hadda Bar I tended to in the city, so I figured I’d some buy some of that drink. Came here to buy some. That day, the man who’d made that concoction died, or rather, dissapeared. Nobody found his body, but nobody heard from him neither. There was an empty bar, and I stepped up. Saloon fulla empty people, needed a drink. I didn’t have nothin’ in the city, ’sides Mary, but she came out here. Nodoby else, nothing for me there. Never left. SAMUEL: And the killin’ RICHARD: I keepa Winchester under th’ counter atta bar. Only one man’s ever tried to stick me up. Richard makes a gun with his fingers. RICHARD: Bang. One shot, he fell. Never got up. SAMUEL: And that’s it? RICHARD: By my hand, yeah. That’s it. People learn ’round here. Primary reason ain’t nobody’s really tried to take down The Innocent before you. All who’ve tried’ve failed.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

37.

SAMUEL: I don’t plan on failin’. RICHARD: None do. They hear the sound of a bell ringing. Richard looks out the window, trying to determine the source of the noise. SAMUEL: What is that? RICHARD: It’s Sunday. SAMUEL: So? RICHARD: Town meetings on Sunday. SAMUEL: You goin’? RICHARD: Everybody does. Richard begins to walk towards the door. RICHARD: Tag along. EXT. DAY. GROUNDS AROUND BART’S SHACK. The top half of a burnt skull stands atop of pile of bones and ashes. This is Bart’s body, or what’s left of it anyways. His charred skeleton is surround by wooden embers, the remnants of his shack. Abraham, Charlie (ragged beard, late 20’s) and Buck (early 30’s, lazy eyed) are standing around the shack. Charlie and Buck are grimacing, but a perverse smile starts to find its way on to Buck’s face. BUCK: Fuck ’appened ’ere?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: CHARLIE: Damned if I know. ABRAHAM: Well, it would appear that our beloved Bart has joined the dearly departed. CHARLIE: We fucking know that. BUCK: Didn’t burn down ’is own shack. Wadn’t that kinda man. CHARLIE: No. Look at this. Charlie picks up the skull. CHARLIE: First offs, the bottom halfa th’ skull’s missin’. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly...

38.

Charlie blows that ashes off the skull, revealing a bullet hole in the center of it’s forehead. CHARLIE (CON’T): It’d appear he was shot in the head. ABRAHAM: He actually did it. BUCK: ’Scuse me? Who done did what? ABRAHAM: Couple a days ago, man sat down to play a hand with me. Charlie, you remember when that kid came an’ challenged me? CHARLIE: Yeah, I remember. Well he and man come t’ and his take us ABRAHAM: came to avenge his father, who sat down to play ’ad avenge him, his brother, father. Said he was gonna out, one by one.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

39.

CHARLIE: And you didn’t tell us? ABRAHAM: Didn’t think nothin’ of it at the time. Plenty a people wanna kill us, usually we can handle it ourselves. Come to think of it, I wonder if Bart put up much of a fight. CHARLIE: We’d been drinking. The man couldn’t fucking stand straight, lettalone hold ’is own inna fight, even less inna shootout. You know this man, the one who did’im in. ABRAHAM: I know his name, and I believe I know where he resides. BUCK: Whatsit? ABRAHAM: His name’s Samuel. Samuel Moon ’r somethin’. It’s that same saloon. Only one in Suicide Springs. BUCK: Well he’s gon’ hafta answer to me now. ABRAHAM: I’m sure he’s lookin’ forward to it. EXT. STREETS OF SUICIDE CREEK. DAY. Samuel and Richard are walking and talking. The streets are crowded, all heading to the town hall, which looms over the town, casting a shadow as wide as two buildings and as long as ten. RICHARD: Mary’ll worked the night, but she’ll meet us there. SAMUEL: And yer fine with that?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

40.

RICHARD: Whadya mean? SAMUEL: Don’t take no offense, but most folk likely to be ashamed when their sister’s involved in that kinda work. RICHARD: I’m not a judgin’ man. Didn’t know her, but my mother’s a whore. SAMUEL: And your father? RICHARD: Marshall. Beat. They continue to walk towards the town hall. SAMUEL: (gestures to Town Hall) What’s the story with that there? RICHARD: What do you mean? SAMUEL: It’s granduer, ’n architecture. Seems completely outta place with the rest of the town. Victorian like. RICHARD: Victorian? SAMUEL: Olden times. RICHARD: Well, that’d make sense, then. See, long time ago, people came and decided they watned to settle. They built the town hall first. It was big enough fer them t’all sleep in, so they figured they’d put all their resources inta the hall first, figured they build the hall ’n go from there. Well, they built th’ hall alright, but afther that, things didn’t go so well. Unbeknownst to them settlers, these (MORE) (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

41.

RICHARD: (cont’d) here lands belonged to some Indians. They’re all dead now, but they were a fierce bunch. One night, when all’re holled up in th’ town hall, the Indians came down. They went apeshit on ’em, scalping and such. Killed ’em all. ’Cept one. Last man shot ’imslef, preferrably to facing the Indians. Shot ’imself in the face, hence the town’s name. Rumor is, they faced somethin’ on to the Indians, so by the time new settlers came about, th’ Indians had died out. They didn’t have the same level of resources, so when they built the resta the town, it wadn’t quite up to par. That’s our town. SAMUEL: That’s a solid yarn. RICHARD: ’snot bad. INT. SALOON. DAY. It would appear as if the Saloon is completely deserted. The doors burst open with tremendous force, kicked in by Charlie, who storms in. Furious he walks in, almost oblivious to the fact that there’s nobody there. CHARLIE: Come out now, boy. Don’t make this harder then needs be. Abraham walks through the saloon door. ABRAHAM: It’s Sunday, Charlie. CHARLIE: So? ABRAHAM: So there’s a town meeting goin’ on.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

42.

CHARLIE: How long? ABRAHAM: Not more then an hour, maybe two. He’ll be back, you can count on that much. CHARLIE: I’m gonna make his life a fucking hell. The devil gon’ seem like a saving grace after I’m through. ABRAHAM: That may be, but don’t take no chances. We ain’t never seen this man shoot anybody, we don’t know what he’s got. All we know is that he’s already killed one of us, and that ain’t the easiest thing to do. CHARLIE: Bart couldn’t walk straight, and probably got caught unawares. That ain’t the state here. He walks through them doors, he’ll get one helluva surprise. ABRAHAM: What ya gon’ do to him, then. CHARLIE: Still figuring that out. Where would you say the most painful place to take a bullet would be? ABRAHAM: Well, lotta fellas say the gut, but I’d go fer the kneecaps m’self. CHARLIE: Left or right? ABRAHAM: Don’t think it matters much. Whichever legs he steps in with first. Shoot that one. CHARLIE: Will do. You gon’ stick around, watch the show?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

43.

ABRAHAM: Nah, I’ve got business to attend. Have fun, though. CHARLIE: Will do. Abraham walks out the door and off frame. Charlie looks around, unsure of what to do with himself while he waits. He sits down on a bar stool, and spins until he faces the door. With his gun out and a grimace on his face, he waits. INT. TOWN HALL. DAY. The people of Suicide Springs sit in the town hall on wooden benches. They’re a fairly plain looking lot, and they all seem to be scowling at nothing in particular. In the middle of a row on the left sits Samuel, with Richard on his right, and on Richard’s right sits Mary. There’s a man (round, mustached) addressing them on a podium. He seems to be giving it his all, with extravagant hand gestures, but nobody in attendance seems all that interested. His voice rings faintly in the background. Samuel turns to Richard: SAMUEL: What’s he goin’ on about? RICHARD: Don’t know. MARY: Not much usually happens at these meetings. SAMUEL: Then why come? Why leave their homes? RICHARD: This ain’t exactly the most secure of places, but I suppose you already know that.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

44.

MARY: Look, people don’t go out much. This gives people a chance t’ see each other. This here’s a safe place. RICHARD: You threaten someone in here, you’ll be Swiss Cheese before you hit the ground. MARY: Swiss what? RICHARD: Cheese. Some European guy brought it in to th’ bar one night. MARY: How was it different from American cheese? RICHARD: It doesn’t matter. The point is that if anybody tries shit here, they will perish. MARY: How does this relate to Swiss cheese? RICHARD: It has holes. Swiss cheese has holes in it. SAMUEL: I’ve got a question. MARY: For me, or for Richard? SAMUEL: Both, I suppose. RICHARD: Ask away. SAMUEL: Where is the law? MARY: Sheriff’s office.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

45.

SAMUEL: Let me specify. What’s the deal with the law in this town. As to why they don’t do anything ’bout none of this? RICHARD: You don’t think they’ve tried? MARY: Past’ve tried. Failed too. RICHARD: Now they just don’t bother ’n the Innocents reward them fer it. MAN AT THE PODIUM: Thank you, and have a good day. Everybody claps. INT. SALOON. DAY. Charlie is still sitting on a stool, gun in hand, waiting. He hears voices and perks up. The voices and footsteps get louder. The door opens and Mary walks in, only to be shot in the face. Blood splatters on to Richard and Samuel, who both stand shocked. After a second, Richard reacts. RICHARD: Mary? Richard runs down and cradles the practically headless body. RICHARD: Nononononononono... CHARLIE: I’m gonna go out on a limb here, and assume that wasn’t Samuel. Charlie snickers and beckons to one of the tables. CHARLIE: Sit. The both of ya. They sit.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

46.

CHARLIE: So which one of you is it, then? SAMUEL: Which one of us is what? CHARLIE: Saint Nick. The fuck do you think? Which one of you cunts is Samuel? RICHARD: Might just kill us both. Don’t seem you care much fer innocents. CHARLIE: Don’t give me no ideas, boy. He points the gun directly at Richard. CHARLIE: Is it you? Sammy boy? He shifts the gun over to Samuel. CHARLIE: Howsabout you, Cowboy? You kill my friend. Shifts gun. CHARLIE: You wander into his abode and murder him in the night? Richard just stares at him, his eyes black with hatred. CHARLIE: Neither of you motherfuckers gonna speak? Have it yer way. He begins to point at them, one after the other. CHARLIE: Eenie. Meenie. Minie. Moe. Samuel looks at Richard. CHARLIE: Catch a. Tiger. By the. Toe. Richard’s lips begin to quiver, sliding into a grimace.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

47.

CHARLIE: If he hollers. Let ’im. Go. Samuel begins to strum the tabletop with his fingers. CHARLIE: Eenie. Meenie. Minie. Moe. His gun is pointed at Samuel. CHARLIE: It’s you then. SAMUEL: He killed myCharlie pulls the trigger, shooting Samuel in his left kneecap. Samuel falls off the stool, clutching his knee in pain. CHARLIE: (to Richard) If he’s Samuel... Who the hell ’re you? RICHARD: I’m the man who’s gonna spit on your grave once you’re lying in a wooden coffin under two feet of dirt with a bullet in yer skull. CHARLIE: Ain’t that foreboding. Samuel screams out in agony. RICHARD: You killed my sister. Had no bone to pick with her, but you shot her dead on her doorstep. CHARLIE: Look, I had not been informed that Samuel kept company. All I knew was that he resided in this here Saloon. She stepped in first. Was I supposed to say "hi"? Introduce myself? No, I did what any man in my situation would’ve done. Thought I had a target, pull the trigger.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

48.

RICHARD: That don’t change nothing. CHARLIE: If you don’t mind, I do believe I’ve gotta date with this here kind fella. SAMUEL: You bastard. You cunt. You spineless coward. Richard gets up out of his seat, and begins to walk towards the bar. CHARLIE: I never did catch yer name. RICHARD: Fuck you. CHARLIE: Well fuck you, where is it that yer goin’? RICHARD: Just held my sister in my arms as chunks of her skull fell to th’ ground. I’m going to get a drink. CHARLIE: Whatcha gettin’? RICHARD: My sister was shot dead in front of me, and ya just busted out my friend’s kneecap. I’m gonna get a drink, the fuck you thing I’m going? CHARLIE: What’re ya gettin’? RICHARD: Whiskey, probably. CHARLIE: Well, get me one. Richard glares at him.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

49.

CHARLIE: If you’d be so kind. Richard continues to walk towards the bar. CHARLIE: Try not to spit in it too much. Charlie kneels so he’s at a more even level with Samuel, who’s still reeling in pain. Charlie holsters his pistol, and from his back pocket, removes a knife. CHARLIE: You should not have my friend. This ain’t gonna be quick, and this ain’t gonna be painless. He brings the knife to Samuel’s face. CHARLIE: I’m going to cut off your balls, rip out your fingernails, toe nails too, I suppose. Also, I’m gonna pull your tongue out. Not cut, pull. There’s gotta be pair of pliers somewhere ’round here. Charlie smirks, the sick fuck. CHARLIE: Now, the order in which those three or four, depending on if you count the removal of toenails and fingernails as separate things, is up to you. What’s it gonna be? SAMUEL: I’m going to rip your throat out. CHARLIE: Balls it is. He starts to undo Samuel’s belt. There’s a gunshot and suddenly Charlie’s brains fly out of his head. His body slumps down. Richard is standing at the bar, a smoking rifle in his hand.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

50.

RICHARD: Always keep a loaded gun under the bar. Never know what kinda cunts gonna come in. SAMUEL: Is there a doctor in this town? RICHARD: He’s dead, boy. SAMUEL: I don’t know if I’ll ever walk again, because there’s a bullet in my knee. The doctor’s for that. RICHARD: I’ll be back. Richard walks out, spitting on Charlie’s corpse as he passes it. Samuel is left to his own devices, clutching his knee, his face contorted in pain. After around four minutes, Richard runs back through the door. Behind him is Marlon, a thin, thirtysomething mustached man. RICHARD: This is Marlon. SAMUEL: Does it look like I give a fuck about your name? MARLON: Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Marlon gets down on one knee over Samuel. MARLON: If you wish me to fix the problem, I’ll first need to examine the wound. Take your hand off your knee. Samuel obliges. MARLON: Ouch.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: SAMUEL: Just get it out. MARLON: I’ll do my best. SAMUEL: Very reassuring. How long have you been a doctor, exactly? Marlon takes a pair of pliers out of his bag. SAMUEL: You’re not going toMARLON: (to Richard) Get something for him to drink, and bite down on. Richard runs off frame. MARLON: It’s funny you ask that, actually. SAMUEL: Funny how? That shouldn’t be funny. MARLON: Because technically, I’m not a doctor.

51.

Richard comes back, now holding a full shot glass, and a stick. MARLON: I’m a vet. RICHARD: All we had. SAMUEL: Are you fucking kidding me? RICHARD: Drink this. He holds the shot glass up to Samuel’s lips, and he drinks. SAMUEL: Do it. Richard puts the stick in his mouth, and Marlon moves the pliers to his knee. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

52.

Samuel’s eyes begin to water with anticipation. We hear the sound of flesh and bone ripping, and the stick falls out of Samuel’s mouth. He screams. INT. SAMUEL’S ROOM. DAY. Samuel is lying on his bed, his knee wrapped in (bloody) bandages. Richard is leaning against the wall on the other side of the room, with a bottle in his left hand. SAMUEL: Now what. RICHARD: Hrm? SAMUEL: What in the fuck do we do now? RICHARD: Calm down. SAMUEL: I can’t fucking stand and there are still men to kill. I’m not going to calm down. RICHARD: Calm down. SAMUEL: Why don’t you calm down, you fucking cunt? RICHARD: Look, whining won’t to fuckall, so if ye can shut your trap for a second, we can figure it out. You keep blabbering though, nothing will get decided. SAMUEL: Fine. I’ll stop. What shall we do now, then? RICHARD: Kill them.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

53.

SAMUEL: And how? RICHARD: They shot my sister. They killed my love in broad fucking daylight, and she wadn’t even holding a gun. Wrong place, wrong time, then bang, headless. I want this as much as you do now. SAMUEL: You can shoot? RICHARD: I can shoot. SAMUEL: Prove it, then. RICHARD: I haven’t a gun. SAMUEL: Rifle under the bar came in use before. Might as well let it come in handy again. RICHARD: You saw me shoot a man in his forehead in one go already. Ain’t that enough? SAMUEL: Lucky shot. RICHARD: Fuck you. Wasn’t. SAMUEL: Prove me wrong. RICHARD: How. SAMUEL: Put me in my chair, and roll me out back. Hand me one of those bottles you’re so seemingly fond of now. I’ll throw it in air, you shoot it outta the sky.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

54.

RICHARD: Fine. EXT. BEHIND THE SALOON. DAY. Samuel is being wheeled out of the back door by Richard. There are three bottles in his lap, and a gun on Richard’s back. There’s nothing behind the saloon for what feels like miles, just endless, lonely desert. Richard stops pushing Samuel, and steps to the side of the chair. He takes his gun off his back, putting it into his hands. SAMUEL: You ready? RICHARD: Pull. Samuel throws the bottle in the sky as high as he can. Richard follows it for a little bit, then pulls the trigger. The bottle shatters, showering whiskey down on the ants below. RICHARD: Again. Samuel throws the second bottle, and Richard shoots it out of the air not a second after it leaves his hand. Samuel is splashed by the drink. SAMUEL: Watch it. RICHARD: You convinced? SAMUEL: I brought three bottles. We’ll use three bottles. RICHARD: Then do it. Samuel throws underhand this time, and the bottle hits the floor before Richard can hit it. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

55.

It rolls across the barren desert floor, eventually coming to a stop after it hits a rock, breaking a hole in the base of the bottle. Alcohol begins to spill out. A spider crawls into the hole, and sits, for just a second. Then, the sound of a gunshot echoes, and the spider inside the bottle explodes at the touch of a bullet. SAMUEL: Goddman. Yer good. RICHARD: I ever say I wasn’t? SAMUEL: How many people died at your hand? How many? RICHARD: Already toldSAMUEL: Ferreal. Don’t bullshit me. Nobody who’s only killed one man’s can shoot like that. RICHARD: Could be for sport. SAMUEL: It’s not fer fucking sport. How many? Richard looks down at the ground, almost ashamed. RICHARD: Seventeen. SAMUEL: Goddamn. How come you lied before? RICHARD: Nothing to proud of. SAMUEL: I’m inclined to disagree. RICHARD: Are you in this for vengeance, or for pride?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

56.

SAMUEL: You say it like they’re exclusive. RICHARD: You’re a schoolteacher. SAMUEL: Was. RICHARD: I’ve never been proud of any of that. It brings no positive feelings upon me. Not a single one. SAMUEL: And what about this whole charade, then? What about the men responsible for yer sister’s death? Killing them won’t bring any joy, no matter how minuscule an amount? RICHARD: It will bring peace. That’s all. SAMUEL: This feels right? RICHARD: It feels just. Beat. RICHARD: So you’re with it, then? SAMUEL: Done with what? RICHARD: Being a teacher. SAMUEL: I don’t know. This kind of thing doesn’t just fade away once it’s done. This kinda thing sticks with you. But that’s not important. I can figure that out later. RICHARD: After we’re done?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

57.

SAMUEL: When Abraham Jessa and Buck Arnold lie in the ground, the life completely gone from their eyes, I’ll think about what I’ll do. Until then, I got one thing on my mind, and one thing only. Let’s get to work. INT. DUSTY ROOM. NIGHT. Buck and Abraham sit at a large round table, across from eachother. The room they’re in is dimly lit, and deserted, apart from them. BUCK: CharlieABRAHAM: Charlie’s dead. BUCK: How do you know that? ABRAHAM: He’d be back by now. No reason not to be. BUCK: You think they killed him, then? ABRAHAM: I do. BUCK: How? ABRAHAM: If I had to go ahead and guess, I’d presume that Charlie’s sadistic nature got the better of ’im. BUCK: Whaddya mean? ABRAHAM: I mean, that he’s a torturin’ sadistic motherfucker. You shoot somebody in the head, or the heart, they’re dead like that (*snaps fingers*). Now, the job’s done, but chances are, they didn’t feel much (MORE) (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

58.

ABRAHAM: (cont’d) on the pain side of things. Now Charlie hated that, the fact that it was over so quickly. He took enjoyment in people screaming for it to be over, people beggin’ for mercy. So yes Bart, if I had to guess, I’d say Charlie took his sweet time, and suffered for it. BUCK: But you don’t know thatABRAHAM: He’s fucking dead. I’m sure of it. BUCK: So what do we do then? ABRAHAM: I don’t know. BUCK: I’m not a fucking coward. ABRAHAM: I didn’t say you were. BUCK: We’re going to get them. ABRAHAM: We will. BUCK: I ain’t running. ABRAHAM: Nobody’s said nothing aboutBUCK: I will stand my ground. ABRAHAM: You need toBUCK: Until these cunts have a bullet in their brains, I ain’t through. Y’understand? Beat.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: ABRAHAM: They’ve already killed Charlie and Bart. You’re not half the shot Charlie was, and you ain’t near as tough as Bart. What makes you think you stand a chance? BUCK: Got lucky? ABRAHAM: Both times it would seem. Who’s to say they won’t get lucky once more? BUCK: You wanna flee? You wanna just turn your back to your brothers, your kin? ABRAHAM: You need to pick your battles. BUCK: Well, I’m pickin’ this one. ABRAHAM: It’s not the time. BUCK: Well, when will that time come? I’m not a patient man. ABRAHAM: No, but you’re not a dead man either. BUCK: What, you just gonna hop on a train to Mexico? ABRAHAM: Might. BUCK: Yer a bastard, through and through. ABRAHAM: Always have been. BUCK: Always will be. Beat.

59.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

60.

BUCK: When’s the next time I’ll see you? ABRAHAM: Who knows. I’ll be around. BUCK: When you leave? ABRAHAM: Soon. BUCK: You’re not one for talkin’ much. Abraham smirks. ABRAHAM: First piece of bullshit that’s come outta your mout all night. Buck’s attitude has changed. He now seems to harbor a seemingly eternal disdain for Abraham. BUCK: You come back, our ties are cut. We’re through. ABRAHAM: Nothing personal. BUCK: Well I’m taking it quite personally. ABRAHAM: You resent me, Buck? BUCK: I think you’re a cunt. ABRAHAM: You wanna shoot me down? You wanna face off, I’ll face off. BUCK: ’nother time, perhaps. ABRAHAM: You look hurt.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

61.

BUCK: This ends tonight. ABRAHAM: You just saidBUCK: Not you. Them. I’m going to go t’ that Saloon, and scalp the fucker. ABRAHAM: I wish you the best of luck in yer endeavors. BUCK: Fuck you. Abraham’s now annoyed, his "impulsiveness" starting to shine through. ABRAHAM: You think I care what you think? You’re a disciple. You mean nothing to me, and neither did Charlie, or Bart. Yer a means to a fucking end. Men like you come ’n go daily, but a man like me? Man like me only comes across every ten years or so. You’re nothing. We see Buck brandishing a knife under the table. BUCK: Back off. ABRAHAM: You inbred cunt, you couldn’t kill me if you tried. BUCK: Last chance. Abraham seems annoyed now, irritating that Buck is gracing his prescence, let alone speaking to him. ABRAHAM: You’re nothing. I will fucking crush you like ’n ant. He slams his hand down on the table.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

62.

ABRAHAM: You are less then nothing. Buck brings the knife out from under the table, and raises his arm high above it. He brings the blade down. Steel runs through flesh, and Abraham’s hand is now impaled to the table. A little blood starts to squirt out of the wound. ABRAHAM: Goddammit it, that fucking hurts! Abraham reaches for his holster but Buck swats his hand away. BUCK: You think y’ can just disrespect me like that? ABRAHAM: You’re a hillbilly rat, and I respected you accordingly. Abraham lashes out, punching Buck in the face, causing him to stumble back, letting go of the knife. Abraham reaches for the blade, wraps his fingers around the hilt, and pull it out. He grunts with pain as it exits. Abraham now lunges at Buck, knife brandished and bloody. He swings, slashing in a repetitious motion. Buck dodges the knife with a surprising amount of agility and fineness, almost as if he’s dancing. He grabs Abraham’s arm, and twists it until the knife is dropped. Then he keeps twisting. Abraham screams audibly this time, and Buck just continues to twist. Abraham finally shakes him loose, only to get hit in the face. Blood now runs from Abraham’s nose to his chin. He lashes out, hitting Buck in the jaw. Buck spits a tooth out, and they stare each other down. Buck hits Abraham. Abraham hits Buck. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

63.

This repeats, but they keep their stance, trading blows for what feels like eternity, a cloud of blood emerging with each hit. Finally, Buck falls to the ground. Abarham leans over him, and keep pummeling, unrelenting in his assault. Soon, skull is indiscernable from tooth, and the red mush that’s left starts to seep in to the floorboards. Abraham gets up, and walks (stumbles) to the door. He exits the room, and we fade to black. INT. SALOON. DAY. Samuel is sitting at the Saloon bar, fiddling with an empty shot glass. Behind the bar stands Richard. They both look tired, and perhaps a little frustrated. SAMUEL: It’s been three days? RICHARD: Three days. SAMUEL: Nobody’s said a word about Abraham or Buck? RICHARD: Not one. SAMUEL: They’re the two most feared and well known bandits this town’s ever known. How the hell is that possible. RICHARD: I haven’t a clue. SAMUEL: They fled, then. RICHARD: It’s a possibility. SAMUEL: Then what do you reckon we do? You wanna catch a train to Mexico?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

64.

RICHARD: It’s a possibility, but I say we wait. SAMUEL: For what? RICHARD: He’ll be back. SAMUEL: And why’s that? I think he saw what we did to his fellow gang members, and decided that he’d rather avoid a similar fate. RICHARD: He’ll be back. SAMUEL: Doubt it. RICHARD: He’ll be back. SAMUEL: You keep sayin’ that, but I see no good reason for him to return. He saw what happened, and though I do truly believe he’s a bastard, there’s been nothing to suggest he’s an idiot. RICHARD: It’s not about safety or well being. It’s about reputation. If it hasn’t already, word will soon spread of him high tailin’ it out to Mexico, and his reputation will be tarnished. He don’t want that. SAMUEL: He’s egotistical, then? RICHARD: Very. He’s not in it for the money, and the law ain’t ever done nothing to wrong him. He just wants the fame, the status. He wants to be the next Billy the Kid.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

65.

SAMUEL: You think he’s got that title? RICHARD: I don’t know, but he’s got something. Beat. RICHARD: Let’s here a tale. SAMUEL: Excuse me? RICHARD: I want to hear of one with you an’ yer brother, and yer father. SAMUEL: I eh, don’t really have many. RICHARD: It doesn’t have to be captivating, but they obviously meant a lot t’ you. Show me why. SAMUEL: Eh... I’m not sure if I have one that qualifies. RICHARD: You can’tSAMUEL: We weren’t that close. RICHARD: The fuck you mean, youSAMUEL: I didn’t really knowRICHARD: You’ve been killing men, risking your life about somebody who ain’t that close to you? SAMUEL: I resent that.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

66.

RICHARD: Like I give a fuck? You think this makes we want to trust you, to go hand in hand? SAMUEL: I wanted something to fight for. RICHARD: Well, did you find it? SAMUEL: I think so. RICHARD: You’re a fucking teacher. SAMUEL: Was. RICHARD: Well you ain’t gonna make it out here. Not if you don’t fucking stand for anything. Beat. SAMUEL: It’s family. That means something. RICHARD: No I don’t. That word is nothing. SAMUEL: It’s enough. Are we done? RICHARD: What do you mean, are we done? SAMUEL: With this. This whole endeavor. RICHARD: Look, I pity you. Don’t fucking forget that, but I’m not about to turn down your help. Just don’t expect me to trust you. SAMUEL: I don’t see why-

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

67.

You you You you

RICHARD: go around, masquerading like have something to fight for. were bored with your life, so saw an out, and you took it.

SAMUEL: They’re myRICHARD: It’s a word. Your family ain’t decided by your blood. SAMUEL: What do you know? RICHARD: Is that a serious question, asshole? I know loss, loss mind you of somebody that actually matters to me, some some tall stranger who happens to share the same the name. SAMUEL: Blood’s enough. RICHARD: For some. SAMUEL: For me. Look, why does it matter so much do you. Don’t fuckin’ tell me that my aim ain’t true or something, because that’s bullshit. RICHARD: It’s the principal. SAMUEL: I want the men dead that you do, and I’m willing to help it get done. All that means anything. Beat. RICHARD: Well it don’t matter much anymore anyways. SAMUEL: And why would that be.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: RICHARD: Abraham hopped on a train ’cross the border. Been confirmed. SAMUEL: When were you gonna tell me? RICHARD: Just now. What difference does it make? SAMUEL: We need to figure this shit out. RICHARD: If he comes back, he’ll get what’s comin’, but I ain’t leaving this country. SAMUEL: I thought you said he’ll come back. RICHARD: He might. SAMUEL: You had certainty notRICHARD: I don’t know. I’ll keep you posted. SAMUEL: Then we’re done here? RICHARD: I think we are. Samuel walks out of the bar, as Richard glares at him. EXT. TRAIN STATION- MEXICO. DAY.

68.

Abraham is standing on a platform in Mexico (exact location unknown), and the train pulls out behind him. He look around, at the people around him (a man, a mother holding a baby, and a cripple), and then look out ahead. The sand is pear white, with only the shadows of cacti providing some shade. There’s not a down in sight. Abraham looks back to the other people on the train station (they’re speaking to each other in Spanish, a language Abraham doesn’t understand, and thus there are no subtitles). (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

69.

Abraham takes a hand rolled cigarette out of his jacket pocket, and puts in his mouth. He reaches back into his pocket, searching for a light. He doesn’t find one. ABRAHAM: (to other people on the platform) Any of you happen to have a light? They look at him, perplexed. ABRAHAM: Fire, match. No? They keep staring, and Abraham tries a gesture or two, but their confusion is unwavering. Giving up, he places the cigarette back in his pocket. He sighs, and begins to walk. As he wanders, time passes, faster and faster (lapse). The sun begins to go down, and still he’s found nothing. The sun has now fully set, stars filling the night sky. He looks out south, and finally sees something in the distance, a small orange spot, almost like an ember. He grins and continues to walk. EXT. CAMPFIRE. NIGHT. There’s a lone figure sitting adjacent to a campfire, his hat brim pulled low. His bag is beside him. Abraham appears out of the darkness. ABRAHAM: Hello there, fellow traveler. The man jumps, startled. FELLOW TRAVELER: I didn’t see you there. ABRAHAM: May I join you around this fire? FELLOW TRAVELER: Please. Just give me a second to move my bag.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

70.

He picks up his bag, and tosses it left. As the bag hits the floor, a small jingle emerges from it. Abraham notices, but doesn’t react. FELLOW TRAVELER: Have a seat. Abraham sits down next to him. FELLOW TRAVELER: Your name? ABRAHAM: Abraham. And you? FELLOW TRAVELER: Call me Lyle. ABRAHAM: A pleasure to meet you, Lyle. LYLE: Likewise. You hungry? ABRAHAM: Famished. Lyle reaches behind him, and pulls out a dead Rabbit, fur and all. ABRAHAM: Allow me. Abraham pulls a knife out from his back pocket, takes the Rabbit, and begins to skin it. ABRAHAM: So, what brings you to this side of the border? LYLE: It’s a long story. ABRAHAM: I ain’t goin’ anywhere. LYLE: I’d rather not, if that’s alright. ABRAHAM: Suit yourself.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

71.

LYLE: And you? What’s your story? ABRAHAM: Had some, ah, complications arise regarding business. Nothin’ all that interesting. He rips the fur clean off. ABRAHAM: You gotta stick? LYLE: No, but I’m sure there’s one around. I’ll be back. He gets up, and wanders off. Abraham stares at the bag. He picks a rock up, and tosses it. As it hits the bag, the "jingle" emerges again. Lyle comes back, stick in hand. LYLE: Got one. He hands it over, and Abraham begins to whittle the tip, sharpening it. ABRAHAM: At the very least, enlighten me to where you’re from. LYLE: Arkansas, actually. And you? ABRAHAM: Small town in Texas, with the name of Suicide Springs. LYLE: Haven’t heard of it. ABRAHAM: Most haven’t, and those who have ain’t heard nothing good. LYLE: So it’s one of those towns, then?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

72.

ABRAHAM: One of those towns. Seem to be less and less of ’em, but after all the turmoil, Suicide Springs remains. Somehow. He continues to whittle away, making the stick sharper, and sharper. LYLE: I suppose it won’t be around much longer. ABRAHAM: I suppose so. Beat. LYLE: You got a family, Abraham? ABRAHAM: No, and I don’t intend to start one anytime soon. Never wanted the kinda life anyways. What about you? LYLE: Had, I guess. ABRAHAM: That’s why you’re here, then? Lyle nods solemnly. ABRAHAM: Well, I’m not one to judge, nor do I give a damn. You’re company, and right now, that a godsend. The stick is now sharpened far beyond what’s necessary. ABRAHAM: I never mentioned what I did, did I? LYLE: I don’t believe you have, no. ABRAHAM: Well Lyle, I used to rob people, kill ’em too.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: LYLE: You were an outlaw, then? ABRAHAM: One of the finest, and I still am. LYLE: Still what? ABRAHAM: An outlaw. LYLE: Then why’d you leave? ABRAHAM: A complication or two. An adversary’s come an’ I don’t exactly have the manpower any more, courtesy of a bastard or two. LYLE: You came here for men, then? Lost souls looking to join yer cause. ABRAHAM: I came here to find men who’re willing to point their gun where I say to point, and pull their trigger when I say pull. I couldn’t give less of a fuck regardin’ the state of their soul, or their troubles. LYLE: Well, if you’re looking for menABRAHAM: Are you interested in joining my gang? You need money? LYLE: That’s not an issue. What I need is a posse that can protect me. ABRAHAM: You join me, you won’t be pickin’ daisies. You do realize that, right? LYLE: I want protection from the law, and a place to stay wouldn’t hurt.

73.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

74.

ABRAHAM: Then I think we might be able to help eachother out. Can you shoot? LYLE: Somewhat. Abraham reaches out to the fire, and pulls out a piece of wood, still flaming (more akin to a torch). Abraham walks out around forty meters and places the stick in the ground, still burning. He comes back, the flaming stick out of the ground behind him, clearly visible. ABRAHAM: Show me. You gotta gun? LYLE: I have a pistol. ABRAHAM: Then you got six shots. If there’s one thing that ain’t hard to find south of the border, it’s ammunition. Lyle gets up, draws, and hold his pistol out. LYLE: It’s dark. ABRAHAM: Hence, why it’s on fire. LYLE: It’s far. ABRAHAM: You’ve never been in a gun fight, have you boy? Lyle shoots, but the bullet seems to disappear into the night. ABRAHAM: You got five more. Steady, now. Lyle shoots again, but the flaming wood still stands. Abraham sighs.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

75.

ABRAHAM: Four. Lyle raises his hand, and the gun starts to shake. Before he can shoot, the whittled stick is through his jugular. He staggers, gargling. ABRAHAM: I am sorry, Lyle. Lyle falls, and starts thrashing around on the floor. Abraham takes his gun from his hand, holds it over his chest, sighs, and pulls the trigger. ABRAHAM: Three. Lyle gasps, still struggling, as Abraham now moves the gun up to his head, and pulls the trigger. ABRAHAM: Two. He looks out at the torch in the sand, and raises the gun in it’s general direction. He pulls the trigger, and the flaming point shatters, splintering into oblivion. ABRAHAM: One. Abraham walks over to Lyle’s bag, crouches down, and unzips it. The bag is filled to the brim with small gold coins, and Abraham grins. He looks back to Lyle’s corpse (now utterly motionless), his eyes focusing on the stick through his neck. ABRAHAM: I’m gonna need a new stick. He wanders off to find a new stick to skewer the rabbit.

76. INT. MEXICAN SALOON. NIGHT. The place is packed, with "lost souls". It’s kind of quiet though, with most seeming to keep to themselves. The sip their drinks, grimace, and move on. The place is filthy, and there are stains everywhere, but whether they’re blood, mud, or shit is unknown. Abraham enters with a grin on his face. He walks to a table in the center, and places the bag he snatched not a day ago on it. with all the attention now on him, he clears his throat. ABRAHAM: That there bag is full of gold coins. Now, I look around, and I can already tell, that a whole damn lot of ya are running from something, or someone, point is that you’re running. Well, I can help with that, but before we get any further, I suppose I should take the time to introduce myself. My name is Abraham Jessa, and I am the leader of a little gang in Texas known as the innocents. Now, I’ve gotta thorn an my side, and needless, to say, I need it pulled out. You assist me with this, and I am more then happy to share my--my spoils with you. Pledge your gun to me, and you can stop yer running. Come north, help me kill two men, and I can offer you a level of notoriety that you’ve only imagined. So I ask you, you long, lost souls, who’s willing? He looks around, hoping for someone to speak up. People continue to stare, but not a word is uttered. He looks around again, hope and happiness draining from his face with every ocular circuit. Still, nothing. His grin has now fully morphed into a grimace. He moves on, and makes he way towards the bar. All five of the stools are occupied. He stops in front of the second one from the left, and clears his throat.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

77.

MAN AT THE BAR: Excuse me? ABRAHAM: I’d like that stool. MAN AT THE BAR: Why this one? ABRAHAM: You’re lucky. Now git. MAN AT THE BAR: Fuck off. Abraham removes his gun from its holster, and holds it against his temple. ABRAHAM: I said git. The man gets up, and Abraham takes his seat. The Bartender walks over. BARTENDER: Nice speech. ABRAHAM: Mention it again, I’ll rip your throat open. Get me a shot. BARTENDER: Shot of what? ABRAHAM: Does it look like I give a fuck? The Bartender comes back with a glass, and Abraham downs it. He gets off the stool, and walks to a table. There are two people currently at the table playing Poker, a man and a woman. ABRAHAM: May I? He sits down before either have a chance to answer. ABRAHAM: Deal me.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

78.

MAN AT THE TABLE: We’re in the middle of a hand. Hold your horses. Abraham looks displeased as he watches the table, waiting for the hand to finish. He discretely reaches into the bag full of coins, and transfers a couple to his back pocket. Some chips are tossed, cards are shown and the man reaches out to the table to collect his winnings. MAN AT THE TABLE: (to Abraham) Alright, have a seat. He sits, and immediately places the bag on the table. Both other players stare at it. WOMAN AT THE TABLE: That was ah, that was a nice speech you gave back there. ABRAHAM: Mention it again, I kick your teeth down your throat. MAN AT THE TABLE: Calm yourself. We’ve got no need, nor desire for conflict right now. The man shuffles the cards. MAN AT THE TABLE: Your name is Abraham, I take it? Abraham nods. MAN AT THE BAR: Mine’s Ray. That there’s my wife, Lillian. LILLIAN: Charmed, I’m sure. Ray deals out the cards. Abraham looks at his, the two of hearts, and the eight of diamonds.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

79.

RAY: I completely forgot. Everyone anti up. ABRAHAM: No blinds? RAY: My table, my rules. Now anti up. Abraham reaches into his bag, takes out a singular coin and throws it to the table center. LILLIAN: No chips? ABRAHAM: These are my chips. Lillian smiles at Ray. RAY: Fine by me. It’s to you, Abraham. Abraham looks down at his cards. ABRAHAM: Five. He reaches into his bag, takes the coin, and bets. LILLIAN: Call. RAY: I’ll call as well. Ray lays down the river. The Jack of diamonds, the ace of spades, and the six of hearts. LILLIAN: I’ll bet three. She bets. RAY: Raise to eight. He bets. Abraham smirks, looks at his cards and reaches into the bag.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

80.

ABRAHAM: Eleven. Lillian looks down at her cards. LILLIAN: Fold. She throws her cards to the table center. Abraham looks at Ray, who stares right back. RAY: I’ll call. He places his chips in the center. ABRAHAM: Well then, turn it. Ray flips over the two of spades. RAY: I’ll check here. ABRAHAM: The same. Ray turns over the Ace of Spades. ABRAHAM: Everything. LILLIAN: I beg your pardon? ABRAHAM: The whole damn bag. He moves the bag to the table’s center. Abraham stares at him, seemingly exuding confidence. RAY: I can’t possibly hope to match that. ABRAHAM: Just put in whatcha have. I’ll call it even.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

81.

RAY: If that’s the case, then I’m all in. He pushes his chips to the center, though the shadow cast by the bag looms over them. ABRAHAM: What’ve you got? Ray smirks. RAY: Trip aces. ABRAHAM: You’re tellin’ me you had pocket aces? RAY: Right ’ere. Ray flips his cards over, and sure enough, it’s the ace of hearts and the ace of club. RAY: I been playing this game my entire life. I know a cheat when I say one. You rigged the shuffle. LILLIAN: Then how come you didn’t say nothing? RAY: What’ve you got. ABRAHAM: Fuck you. LILLIAN: Flip ’em. Abraham stares dead ahead, his face beginning to contort with rage. INT. BEDROOM. NIGHT. It’s near pitch black, with the blinds closed over the windows not allowing any moonlight to shine through.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

82.

There are footsteps behind the door, growing louder and louder, and they stop, only to be replaced by the sound of heavy breathing. The doors opens, and the light from the hallway shines on the bed, revealing Ray and Lillian under the covers. The doors opens wider, and the light hits Lillian on her (still closed) eyes. She lifts her hand to shield them. The door swings open, hitting the back wall, waking them both. Abraham stands in the doorway, a gun in his hand. He fires, and the bodies sink back into the mattress. Abraham stands silhouetted against the door frame breathing heavily, the pistol still smoking. He turns, and sees a teenage boy standing behind him. ABRAHAM: What’s your name boy? TEENAGE BOY: Michael. I didn’t see nuthin. ABRAHAM: I’m not about the shoot ya. Abraham reaches into his back pocket for the gold he still has left. He shows it to Michael. ABRAHAM: You want this? MICHAEL: Well, sure. ABRAHAM: Then come back over the border with me an’ deliver a message. You’ve got my word. INT. SALOON. DAY. Samuel and Richard sit far from eachother, both occasionally stealing a angst filled glance or two, for the most part though, just staring into nothingness. Suddenly, the door opens. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

83.

Richard bolts out of his chair, his rifle now in his hands, his eyes looking down the sights. Michael stands in the doorway, clearly surprised by the circumstances. He’s not entirely sure what he was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. MICHAEL: I ain’t armed. I got no intent, nor reason. RICHARD: Intent or reason to what? MICHAEL: To hurt you. Either of you. SAMUEL: Then why are you here? MICHAEL: I’ve got a message. I’d merely like to deliver it, then be on my way. SAMUEL: And who might this message be from. MICHAEL: From a man I met not too long ago. His name was Abraham. RICHARD: Out with it. Samuel looks over at Richard, particularly focusing at the barrel of the rifle pointed right at him, and swallows his tongue. MICHAEL: Look, I ain’t never had no gun pointed at me before. Can you please lower that thing? RICHARD: If you ain’t never had no gun pointed at you before, how the hell’d you end up errand boy for Abraham Jessa? MICHAEL: Right place, right time I suppose.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

84.

SAMUEL: You speak of it as if it’s a positive. MICHAEL: It’s easy money. Samuel and Richard look at each other. SAMUEL: Put the gun down. Richard lowers his rifle. SAMUEL: But boy, you try anythingMICHAEL: I won’t. Swear it. SAMUEL: I believe you. Now what is it that you got to tell us? MICHAEL: Not a whole lot. RICHARD: Well spit it. MICHAEL: Only that he wants to put an end to it. All of it. He’ll be by the river, tomorrow at dusk, just north of the iron bridge. Beat. MICHAEL: You won’t try to shoot me now if I leave, will you? RICHARD: You’re good. Now get the hell off my property. Michael walks briskly out the door. RICHARD: You think he’s tired of running?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

85.

SAMUEL: You value my stance now? RICHARD: Call it a curiosity. SAMUEL: I haven’t a clue. Doesn’t seem a whole lot like him from the little I know, but then again, that ain’t a whole lot. You? RICHARD: I guess we’ll wait and see, won’t we? SAMUEL: I guess so. EXT. FOREST. DUSK. Richard and Samuel are on their horses, headed north. After maybe ten paces after me pick them up, Richard gentley tugs his horse’s reigns. RICHARD: Stop. SAMUEL: We here? RICHARD: I think we are. How’s the knee. SAMUEL: I’ve wrapped it just about as tight as I possibly could. Still though I need crutches. RICHARD: Ain’t no place for those things here. SAMUEL: Suppose not. They get off of their horses, and begin to walk down. As they walk further, the sound of rushing water gets louder. Suddenly, Samuel looses his footing, stepped on a rock, or caught his toe in a branch. He falls.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

86.

SAMUEL: Help me up. Please. Richard just stares at him. SAMUEL: Richard, give me a hand. RICHARD: I-- I can’t. SAMUEL: Whatdya mean, you can’t? The fuck you mean, you can’t? RICHARD: Jessa needs to die by my hand. I can’t risk youSAMUEL: And what if you fail. What if he challenges you to a duel, and you loose. RICHARD: I reckon if it gets to that point, it’s no longer my concern. SAMUEL: You’re a bastard. RICHARD: And you’re a tourist. Richard walks away, to the river. Samuel sighs, and begins using the foilage around him (roots, rocks, ect) to bring him self to the river. EXT. RIVER. DUSK. Abraham is standing in the middle of the river, the water up to his ankles. His back is turned, his focus on the setting sun. He hears footsteps behind him, and he turns around to see Richard. ABRAHAM: The fuck is Samuel?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: RICHARD: That’s doesn’t matter. ABRAHAM: The fuck I ever do to you? RICHARD: One of yours boys, Charlie I think, murdered the only person I actually cared about. You set the dog off it’s leash, you’re responsible for her death. That, Abraham, is what you did to me. ABRAHAM: Fair enough. RICHARD: Charlie’s dead. Bart’s dead. But I want the lot of you gone. I kill you here, where am I off to next? ABRAHAM: Are you attempting to assertain Buck’s location? RICHARD: Maybe. ABRAHAM: Then I got good news for you. He’s dead. RICHARD: You know this how? ABRAHAM: Because I pummeled his skull into some saloon floorboards. RICHARD: Why? ABRAHAM: That’s neither here, nor ther. You kill me, you’re done. RICHARD: Well then, why don’t we get to it? ABRAHAM: Why don’t we. You ever been in a duel before?

87.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

88.

RICHARD: Not personally, but I’ve sure as hell witnessed plenty of them, a fair share on your behalf. ABRAHAM: Five paces? RICHARD: Fine by me, but how do I know you won’t just turn around and shoot on three. ABRAHAM: Because that’s no fun at all. You have my word. RICHARD: Your word is shit. ABRAHAM: You want to do this like a man, what choice do you have. RICHARD: Fine. Five steps? ABRAHAM: Five steps. They turn around, their backs to eachother. They take their first step. They pause, just for a second, almost trying to see if they’re about to be cheated. They aren’t. They take their second step, then their third. EXT. FOREST. DUSK. Samuel keeps pulling himself, his attire completely covered in dirt. Ahead of him lies a mound, beyond it, the far edge of river visible. He grabs hold of it, and begins to pull. As he does so, he hears the distinct sound of not one, but two gunshots. His head now over the mound, he witnesses Abraham fall, a gaping hole in the middle of his left eyebrow.

89.

Ricahrd is bleeding from the chest, stumbling about in the water. He falls. EXT. RIVER. DUSK. Samuel crawls to the edge of the riverbed. SAMUEL: Richard. Richard turns his head, as he does so, a bit of blood dribbles out of his mouth. SAMUEL: You got him. RICHARD: I got him. SAMUEL: You’re not going to make it. RICHARD: I’m not going to make it. Samuel stares at him, waiting for more. SAMUEL: Before he died, did he- Did he say anything about Buck? He looks at Richard, waiting, begging for an answer. SAMUEL: I can’t go back. I can’t. Richard looks at him, looks into his eyes, and in that moment, sees somebody bereft of purpose. SAMUEL: I need something to go off of. Anything. Richard just keeps on staring. SAMUEL: Richard, IRICHARD: West. He went west.

90.

INT. SAMUEL’S ROOM. DAY. Samuel’s knife tears through the name "Abraham". He hobbles back, to admire his handiwork. The list now has every name crossed. All except one. BUCK ARNOLD lies untarnished. EXT. THE WEST. Samuel rides like hell, silhouetted against the blood orange sun, carried west by the thunderous hooves of his steed. And Abraham’s lifeless corpse is carried east, carried by the pull of the ravenous tides. CUT TO BLACK FIN

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