squalor
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               TITLE CARD:

               WYOMING TERRITORY, 1885



               EXT. OPEN FIELDS   DAYTIME

               Two men, HANK SAWYER and JACK BRYANT, watch as a herd of
               cattle is driven through.  A galloping rider, STANZ, breaks
               off from driving the herd.  SAWYER is a slim young man with
               long sideburns.  BRYANT is older, has a mustache and piercing
               eyes.  STANZ is barely more than a boy.

                                   STANZ:
                         Bryant!  Word's just come in!  Come
                         outta Rock Springs.  There's been a
                         massacre.  Chinamen up and killed
                         some of our boys.

                                   BRYANT:
                         I don't have no boys in Rock
                         Springs.

                                   STANZ:
                         Whites.  They's immigrants, mostly,
                         but they ain't from China.

                                   BRYANT:
                         Well good for them.  Frees up more
                         land.

                                   STANZ:
                         They ain't got no land.  They's
                         miners.

                                   BRYANT:
                         Well that's a pity.
                             (looks to SAWYER)
                         Should we send them a funeral
                         wreath?

                                   SAWYER:
                             (focusing on the cattle)
                         Mmmmm.

                                   STANZ:
                         But we gotta do something!  Those
                         Chinamen-

                                   BRYANT:
                         You're giving your family a bad
                         name, Stanz.  Your pop and I go way
                         back. 
                         And I'm tired of saving your ass,
                         let alone some damn miners in Rock
                         Springs.

                                   STANZ:
                         Well, maybe I was misinformed.

               SAWYER casually stamps out a cigarette on his gloved palm. 
               STANZ rides off.

                                   BRYANT:
                         I just wish the boy would act
                         right.  I think he could have
                         potential.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Mmmmm.

                                   BRYANT:
                         You've been in a rut lately, you
                         know that?

                                   SAWYER:
                         That's what happens when you go in
                         a circle long enough.

                                   BRYANT:
                         Is it Eleanor?  She done something?

                                   SAWYER:
                         She's not doing so well.  Got the
                         TB.  But I got no complaints.

                                   BRYANT:
                         Well, I reckon we own one of the
                         most prosperous towns in the
                         territory.  So maybe you could try
                         to be happy.

                                   SAWYER:
                         People just think you own it.  Once
                         they stop thinking it, you stop
                         owning it.  

                                   BRYANT:
                         You're supposed to keep everyone
                         thinking it.

                                   SAWYER:
                         You know I don't like thinking.

                                   BRYANT:
                         Well, fix to start thinking then,
                         Hank.

                                                                CUT TO:



               EXT. THE DISTANT TOWN OF SQUALOR IN THE DISTANCE

               A lonely piano clinks out discordant notes as we glide
               towards the town.  It features a few saloons, a whorehouse, a
               hotel, a billiards parlor, and a few homes scattered off of
               the main street.  Cast and other titles run over this
               sequence.

                                                                CUT TO:



               INT. BRYANT'S OFFICE  AFTERNOON

               SAWYER stands at the bar, carefully selecting a bottle of
               booze.  BRYANT sits at his desk, before the window,
               listening.

                                   PATTERSON:
                             (o.s.)
                         I'm buying cattle off the K Ranch
                         up Cheyenne Falls.  Don Brubaker's
                         outfit.  I know it's risky to move
                         cattle through some parts of the
                         territory and that's why I hire
                         local boys to help.  Because local
                         is loyal, I don't need to tell you
                         that.  And the Stanz family name
                         carries weight in Squalor and
                         Pissagua and every other burg
                         between here and Cheyenne Falls. 
                         The father was a Marshall for the
                         territory before the war.  So I
                         have every reason to expect that
                         the boy will carry on the good
                         faith, you see?  That's why I hire
                         him.  And I pay my men well.  Don't
                         I, Drysdale?

                                                            REVERSE TO:



               INT.   BRYANT'S OFFICE  AFTERNOON

               PATTERSON, a respectable white-haired man in an impeccable
               suit, sits in the chair opposite BRYANT. 
               His henchman, DRYSDALE, is a tall and muscular brute with a
               keen intelligence in his eyes.  DRYSDALE nods his head.

                                   PATTERSON:
                         That's right, I pay them damn well. 
                         I don't care how they spend it,
                         whores or billiards or what have
                         you, but I pay them for loyalty. 
                         And I think a businessman should be
                         able to expect loyalty from his
                         employees.  But every time that kid
                         Stanz goes on a drive, suddenly
                         half my herd didn't make it. 
                         They've got hoof and mouth disease. 
                         They got held up by a flooded creek
                         and some got away.  I know that
                         driving is a chance business, so I
                         expect some sport.  But not this
                         much sport.  Not a 50% loss on my
                         investment.  You understand what
                         I'm saying?

                                   BRYANT:
                         Sure.  You want all your cattle.

                                   PATTERSON:
                         That's how I see it and how
                         Drysdale sees it, too.  Not only do
                         I invest in the drive, I invest in
                         the handlers.  And this kid Stanz,
                         well, he ain't as trustworthy as
                         his name.

                                   SAWYER:
                         How many did you lose from the
                         drive that came in today?

                                   PATTERSON:
                         One hundred out of five.

                                   BRYANT:
                         Why don't you just stop paying him?

                                   PATTERSON:
                         That's the part I was just getting
                         to.  You know everything in this
                         town, and you oughtta, but maybe
                         you don't know some things and it
                         is up to me, begrudgingly, to shed
                         some light on these certain things. 
                         Stanz has a bastard.

                                   BRYANT:
                         Yeah?

                                   PATTERSON:
                         He's got several of them.  He's
                         been banging the whores all the way
                         up and down the territory and he's
                         in a fix for money.  Now, his
                         father don't want no bastard
                         grandchildren and he don't want
                         none from whores.  And, like I
                         said, his father carries weight. 
                         He's the guy that could shoot an
                         eye out of a crow at three hundred
                         yards, while it's raining.

                                   BRYANT:
                         I know his father, I know all the
                         Stanz's in the territory.  They
                         draw water.  You don't.

                                   PATTERSON:
                         I want to settle this reasonably. 
                         But that old man Stanz just won't
                         listen to reason.  That son is
                         robbing me blind and his daddy's
                         laughing at me.  So part of the
                         payoff that should be in my pocket
                         lines theirs.  The whole situation
                         ain't right, Bryant.

                                   BRYANT:
                         He's sticking his tongue at you
                         from behind his father's shadow?

                                   PATTERSON:
                         That's about the short of it.  I
                         know, it seems complicated.  But
                         I'm not the one that started this
                         mess.

                                   BRYANT:
                         So you want to kill them?

                                   DRYSDALE:
                         And five minutes ago is too late.

                                   PATTERSON:
                         So you can see why I can't just
                         stop paying him.  That's all that
                         stands between us and the abyss.

                                   BRYANT:
                         What do you want me to do?

                                   PATTERSON:
                         That's what I'm doing here for. 
                         You're the law in Squalor.  Nobody
                         craps in this town without your say
                         so.  So you're the one that can
                         make eliminations.

                                   BRYANT:
                         This smells like a giant
                         elimination.  Why don't you just
                         move on to another town?  

                                   PATTERSON:
                         I like it here.  The population is
                         colorful.

                                   BRYANT:
                         And you got a long eye on you.  You
                         like the view from this window.

                                   PATTERSON:
                         Let's get back to basics.  Stanz
                         ain't gonna run me out of my own
                         town.

                                   BRYANT:
                             (looks at SAWYER and then
                              back to PATTERSON)
                         Sorry, Patterson, I can't let you
                         do it.

                                   PATTERSON:
                         Well, Bryant, I ain't exactly
                         asking here.  Don't worry, it won't
                         come back to bite you on the ass.

                                   BRYANT:
                         Yeah?  You got out of town talent
                         riding in for this?

                                   PATTERSON:
                         I'm a businessman.  I do what I
                         must.

                                   BRYANT:
                         You came here to see if I'd bite
                         your head off and I think you've
                         got your answer.  There's the
                         newspaper out here, now.  They can
                         put a story on the telegraph.

                                   DRYSDALE:
                         Well maybe after we've written off
                         Stanz, we'll come back and do a
                         little story on you.

                                   PATTERSON:
                         That's enough.  He don't mean what
                         he says, Bryant.  His head's bigger
                         than his britches sometimes.

                                   DRYSDALE:
                         Balls.

                                   PATTERSON:
                         Hey, come on.  We're all friends
                         here.

                                   BRYANT:
                         You make a move on Stanz and
                         there'll be two graves out there,
                         Patterson.

                                   PATTERSON:
                         It ain't a meeting with you if it
                         doesn't end with you threatening to
                         bury someone.  Or so I hear.

               PATTERSON and DRYSDALE exit.  SAWYER throws himself down on a
               couch against the wall.  He pulls his hat over his eyes and
               sits for a few seconds.

                                   SAWYER:
                         You fell for it.

                                   BRYANT:
                         You think so?

                                   SAWYER:
                         I do.

                                   BRYANT:
                         You'd like to be the smartest guy
                         in town, Sawyer, but did you ever
                         think that I win either way?

                                   SAWYER:
                         But he's bringing gunmen.  Hired
                         killers for a grudge.

                                   BRYANT:
                         You haven't followed through.  You
                         need to work on that.
                             (beat)
                         No, this is the best play. 
                         Patterson can't take Stanz, we'll
                         see to that.  Patterson's becoming
                         a burr under my saddle.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Love the horse metaphor.  How
                         confident are you that you can go
                         toe to toe with a man like
                         Patterson?

                                   BRYANT:
                         I reckon I can take on any man in
                         the territory.  Hiring guns ain't a
                         hard prospect in this region.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Holding a town ain't as easy.  You
                         start to look weak and they'll gang
                         up on you.  I don't care about the
                         Stanz's but-

                                   BRYANT:
                         Well I care.  And that's all that
                         matters.

                                   SAWYER:
                         You think they're off jerking each
                         other over the kill now?

                                   BRYANT:
                         Patterson, maybe.  Drysdale doesn't
                         come until the blood's flowing.



               INT. SAWYER'S ROOM  AFTERNOON

               ELEANOR, a startling brunette beauty, lies prostrate on the
               bed, only half conscious.  DR ABNER, a short man in a bowler
               hat and collar with no tie, is pulling bottles out of his
               kit.

                                   DR ABNER:
                         Miss Eleanor, it's three bits you
                         owe me already.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         Is that all of my credit?

                                   DR ABNER:
                         Singing in the show don't buy you
                         much.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         What about being Sawyer's Saturday
                         night gal?  That do anything?

                                   DR ABNER:
                         I would, of course, have to consult
                         with-

                                   ELEANOR:
                         Then forget it.

                                   DR ABNER:
                         As you like.  This will make five
                         bits.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         I can pay you on Tuesday.

                                   DR ABNER:
                         It is Tuesday.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         Then on Thursday.

               There is some COMMOTION outside the window and DR ABNER looks
               out.  He sees PASTOR DAVE giving a speech on the wooden
               sidewalk across the dirt street.



               EXT. OUTSIDE THE CAJUN  SAME TIME

               PASTOR DAVE, a poorly dressed man with long hair, covered
               with dust, is TALKING LOUDLY.

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         And the hand of God will come down
                         on this town if the men of bad will
                         do not leave their fortunes.  For a
                         camel shall sooner pass through the
                         eye of a needle than a rich man
                         shall enter the paradise of heaven.

                                   AUDIENCE:
                         Amen!

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         We are a community living in the
                         midst of sin.  There are lynchings. 
                         There are shootings in the very
                         streets we walk with our children.

                                   AUDIENCE:
                         Amen!

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         Who among you will stand up to the
                         test of the Lord?  Who among you
                         will take the Lord's challenge to
                         live free from all sin?  Would you
                         die as he died, so that others may
                         live?

               The crowd CLAPS.

                                                                CUT TO:



               EXT. THE STANZ RANCH   NIGHT

               The former Marshall, EWAN, is carefully hanging a lantern
               from a hook on the front porch.  He is old, long white hair,
               a beaten old duster on his back.  He has no hat.  After the
               lantern is placed, he draws up a Spencer rifle and sits in an
               old rocking chair.  He stares at the moon over the hills in
               the distance.  Somewhere far away, a dog BARKS.  There is a
               SCRAPING noise.  EWAN focuses his eyes but sees only
               darkness.  He lays the rifle across his lap and pulls a
               bottle of whiskey from beneath the chair.  Finally, he
               speaks.

                                   EWAN:
                         If you mean me harm, come up to me
                         like a man.

               A RUSTLING sound in the bushes.  EWAN waits.  Eventually, a
               figure appears, silhouetted by the moonlight.  It is a man
               and he drags a small cart behind him. Very quick, EWAN has
               aimed the rifle at the figure.

                                   EWAN:
                         Identify yourself.

                                   CARR:
                         It's me, Marshall.  It's Benny
                         Carr.

               EWAN LAUGHS.

                                   EWAN:
                         I was about to put a hole through
                         your chest.

                                   CARR:
                         I just brought along your weekly
                         dry goods.

                                   EWAN:
                         Why you making a visit so late at
                         night?

                                   CARR:
                         Seemed right.  'ts not that late.

                                   EWAN:
                         Is there anyone with you?

                                   CARR:
                         You'd know better than me.

               CARR has now emerged into the dim light cast by the lantern. 
               EWAN places his rifle back on his lap.

                                   EWAN:
                         Iff'n you were followed, they're
                         quiet.

                                   CARR:
                         Well, like I says, there's just
                         some dry goods for the week.  Some
                         whiskey.  Where's that son of
                         yours?

               EWAN makes a dismissive gesture.

                                   CARR:
                         Right.  Well.  I'll leave the cart,
                         you can return it tomorrow.  Mayhap
                         day after.

                                   EWAN:
                         How's my credit?

               CARR makes a so-so gesture with his hand.

                                   EWAN:
                         Mark it in the ledger.  I'll send
                         the boy with some money tomorrow.

                                   CARR:
                         What time, you think?

                                   EWAN:
                         He sleeps the morning.  Maybe the
                         afternoon.

                                   CARR:
                         Before lunch, or-

                                   EWAN:
                         He'll be in when he's in.  I'll see
                         to it.  How much whiskey did you
                         bring?

                                   CARR:
                         Three bottles.

                                   EWAN:
                         That'll do.

                                   CARR:
                         Then I'll expect him tomorrow.

               CARR starts to walk away.  EWAN casually lifts the rifle and
               draws a bead on his back.  He stares at him walking for a few
               yards and then softly says:

                                   EWAN:
                         Bang.

                                                                CUT TO:



               INT. THE CAJUN   NIGHT

               SAWYER sits at the bar keeping a careful eye on a poker game
               in the corner.  The bartender, REISS, pours another shot for
               him.

                                   REISS:
                         You got Patterson's five hundred?

                                   SAWYER:
                         He can carry me another day.

                                   REISS:
                         He won't like it.

                                   SAWYER:
                         He ain't Jesus on the throne.

               A cowboy, DALTON, enters the bar.  He appears drunk.  SAWYER
               seems to recognize him.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Reiss, you keep that shooter under
                         the bar still?

                                   REISS:
                         What's it to ya?

                                   SAWYER:
                         Trouble just walked in.

               REISS looks at DALTON.

                                   REISS:
                         Looks harmless enough.

                                   SAWYER:
                         He's carrying.  And not just one
                         hip.

                                   REISS:
                         No law against it.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Just keep the shooter close.

               SAWYER walks towards DALTON.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Are you Dalton out of Moorehead?

                                   DALTON:
                         No, I'm Chase.  Don't know any
                         Dalton.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Where did you ride in from?

                                   DALTON:
                         Pissagua.

                                   SAWYER:
                         You meet any whores up that way?

                                   DALTON:
                         Nothing but whores, near be.

                                   SAWYER:
                         There's one in particular.  She's
                         got a nose rotted away by syphilis.  

                                   DALTON:
                         Wouldn't cotton to that.

               SAWYER notices that DALTON is taking furtive glances at
               BENDER, the local tough.

                                   SAWYER:
                         You see something that interests
                         you?

                                   DALTON:
                         How's that?

                                   SAWYER:
                         You're not from around these parts. 
                         You got a bit of a Minnesota
                         accent.

                                   DALTON:
                         I said I wasn't from no god damn
                         Moorehead.

                                   SAWYER:
                             (leaning in)
                         He's only got one.

                                   DALTON:
                             (irritated)
                         Mister, you got a point?

                                   SAWYER:
                         We only tolerate fair fights in
                         this town.  Hand over one of yours.

                                   DALTON:
                         I didn't come for no fight.  I just
                         want a drink after a long day on
                         the trail.

               SAWYER reaches out and flips open the man's coat.  He grabs
               one of his revolvers and withdraws it from its holster. 
               DALTON jerks away but the gun is already gone.  He begins to
               draw the other but something in SAWYER'S eyes stops him.

                                   SAWYER:
                         If you're ready to draw down, you'd
                         best do it now.  I'm as drunk as
                         I'm going to get tonight.

               DALTON stares at him, his hand still frozen on his other
               pistol.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Reiss, I'd like to buy this man a
                         drink.

               He hands the gun over the counter as the drink is poured.

                                   SAWYER:
                         And keep this until the gentleman
                         is ready to leave.

                                   DALTON:
                         Thank you, stranger.

               DALTON sits down on a stool at the bar and takes the drink
               down in one gulp.  SAWYER begins to walk away.

                                   REISS:
                             (to DALTON)
                         It's smart to listen to him.  He's
                         the most dangerous man in the
                         territory.

               SAWYER has made his way over to BENDER.

                                   SAWYER:
                         That man is gunning for you.

                                   BENDER:
                         I seen him.

                                   SAWYER:
                         It's nothing to do with me but he's
                         wanted.  They say he's pretty fast
                         with a pistol.

                                   BENDER:
                         Faster than me?

                                   SAWYER:
                         Don't you find out.

                                   BENDER:
                         What if I should want to collect
                         the reward?

               SAWYER considers.

                                   SAWYER:
                         You want it real bad, don't you? 
                         You ever killed a man, Bender?

               BENDER looks away.

                                   SAWYER:
                         No, of course not.  You just like
                         to scare people.  And he's one you
                         can't scare.  So take your friends
                         and ride.

               BENDER pushes past SAWYER and slurs:

                                   BENDER:
                         Come on, fellas.  I wanna see a man
                         about a horse.

               DALTON notices their exit and starts to slide away from the
               bar to follow them but SAWYER is suddenly there with him,
               wrapping an arm around his shoulder and keeping him there.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Another drink for my new friend.

                                                                CUT TO:



               EXT. FOOT OF A MOUNTAIN  SUNRISE

               EVERS, a common looking man, is dead.  He is sprawled out on
               rocks at the foot of the mountain, apparently having fallen
               off.  SARAH, a pathetic drunken woman, is going through his
               pockets.  As she hears a HORSE APPROACHING from around the
               bend, she leaps up and starts running towards the sound.  She
               finds NEWMAN, a deputy, approaching.

                                   SARAH:
                         That you, Newman?

                                   NEWMAN:
                         Sure as can be.  What you doing at
                         the ridge, Sarah?

                                   SARAH:
                         Evers is down here.

                                   NEWMAN:
                         Well tell him that Bryant's been
                         lookin' for 'im.

                                   SARAH:
                         I don't think he's gonna hear it.

               NEWMAN pulls past her and sees the body.

                                   NEWMAN:
                             (to himself)
                         Holy shit.

                                   SARAH:
                         I wasn't looting him or nothing.  I
                         moved his head to see if I could
                         feel a pulse. 
                         You reckon we should move him
                         before the buzzards get to picking?

                                                                CUT TO:



               EXT. MAIN STREET OF SQUALOR  MORNING

               NEWMAN is riding up the street on his horse, EVERS' body tied
               across the rear.  People make way, stop talking, gaze at
               what's passing.  We see PATTERSON standing on top of the
               Cajun, watching as the body passes.  SAWYER, having just
               woken and dressed, pulls his horse alongside NEWMAN.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Where did you find him?

                                   NEWMAN:
                         Devil's Ridge.

                                   SAWYER:
                         You reckon he fell?

                                   NEWMAN:
                         That's what the signs indicate.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Did Pascal tell you to watch over
                         Bryant last night?

                                   NEWMAN:
                         No, sir.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Is anyone posted at Bryant's?

                                   NEWMAN:
                         Don't think so.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Would you mind sticking around?

                                   NEWMAN:
                         This guy keeps farting.  You don't
                         think he's still alive, do ya?

               SAWYER looks carefully at the skull wound.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Nah, I reckon not.

                                                                CUT TO:



               INT. BRYANT'S OFFICE  MINUTES LATER

               BRYANT SLAMS his hand on the desk.

                                   BRYANT:
                         This is unacceptable.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Doc says that he probably fell.

                                   BRYANT:
                         You ever known Evers to drink on a 
                         job?

                                   SAWYER:
                         No.

                                   BRYANT:
                         His shoulder was dislocated.  Like
                         he'd had his arm pushed up his
                         back.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Yep.
                             (beat)
                         So?

                                   BRYANT:
                         So I had Evers out following
                         Patterson's henchmen last night.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Oh yeah?

                                   BRYANT:
                         Don't give me the babe in the woods
                         routine.  You'd have done the same
                         thing if you were a thinker.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Maybe Patterson's more than just a
                         burr under your saddle.

                                   BRYANT:
                         Patterson doesn't have the brains
                         to put one over on me.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Then why is one of yours dead and
                         nobody was here protecting you last
                         night?

                                   BRYANT:
                         Protection?  I didn't ask for any.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Well I did.

                                   BRYANT:
                         I want you to get me Pascal and the
                         mayor in here.  We'll straighten
                         this out.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Yeah.  I'll get 'em.  And then you
                         can find me at Rudy's.

                                                                CUT TO:



               INT. RUDY'S   LATER

               SAWYER has just attempted sex with a Hispanic prostitute,
               ESPERANZA.  She lays in bed in a corset, watching him collect
               items and return them to his pockets.  His shirt is still
               unbuttoned.

                                   ESPERANZA:
                         How long have you been seeing me,
                         Sawyer?

                                   SAWYER:
                         I don't know.  Couple years?

                                   ESPERANZA:
                         And in all that time, have you been
                         in love with someone else?

               SAWYER turns to her and stuffs a bill in her mouth.

                                   SAWYER:
                         I don't come for the conversation.

                                                                CUT TO:



               INT. BRYANT'S OFFICE  AFTERNOON

               PASCAL, the town's Sheriff, and LEAKE, the town mayor, are
               being given their orders by BRYANT.  SAWYER enters the room.

                                   BRYANT:
                         That was fast, Sawyer.

                                   SAWYER:
                         She started talking.

                                   LEAKE:
                         Mr. Sawyer, I just wanted to hand
                         along my condolences for the
                         unfortunate-

                                   SAWYER:
                         It's not unfortunate so much as
                         inconvenient.

                                   BRYANT:
                         They took out his gold tooth. 
                         Christ, that's strange.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Maybe it was a dentist.

                                   BRYANT:
                         Gold digger, more like.  How did
                         Patterson get his start in this
                         town again?

                                   SAWYER:
                         Mmmmm.

                                   PASCAL:
                         If it's not about me, I got nothing
                         to say.  But I think Patterson is
                         most dangerous when cornered.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Then you've got nothing to say. 
                         Why wasn't anyone watching over
                         Bryant last night, Sheriff?

                                   PASCAL:
                         There was a brawl at the Beerson. 
                         All my deputies were required
                         there.

                                   SAWYER:
                             (to BRYANT)
                         You really want to go man to man
                         with Patterson when he's got a
                         whole army behind him?

                                   BRYANT:
                         I don't step down from a fight,
                         Sawyer.

                                   SAWYER:
                         But you also don't start swinging
                         every time you find a hornet's
                         nest.

                                   BRYANT:
                         It ain't even about that no more. 
                         He killed Evers.  We've got to do
                         something.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Patterson's been playing you like a
                         fiddle and now he's drawing you
                         into a fight.  Just when you look
                         weak.  He's bringing in out of town
                         muscle-

                                   BRYANT:
                         Then tell me what to beat him with,
                         Sawyer!

                                   SAWYER:
                         You beat him by not fighting him at
                         a time and place of his choosing. 
                         What do you think he'll do after
                         he's killed Stanz?

                                   BRYANT:
                         He won't get that far.  Tell him,
                         Pascal.

                                   PASCAL:
                         Yes, well.  It seems that Mr.
                         Patterson is some months in arrears
                         of property tax payments.  And he's
                         also been providing spirits in his
                         establishment with a license that
                         expired a week ago.

                                   BRYANT:
                         That's right.  It seems a clerical
                         error voided his right to serve
                         whiskey in the township.

                                   SAWYER:
                         When did you start needing a
                         license to serve whiskey in
                         Squalor?

                                   BRYANT:
                         Oh, maybe three weeks.  When did we
                         do that vote, Joseph?

                                   LEAKE:
                         Yeah, about three weeks.
                             (to SAWYER)
                         Most of the votes came from Pastor
                         Dave's flock.  They're part of the
                         temperance movement, wouldn't you
                         know.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Funny, this business with Patterson
                         started up about three weeks ago.

                                   LEAKE:
                         I just do as I'm told, Mr. Sawyer,
                         you know that.

                                   SAWYER:
                         You sure that's the right move,
                         Bryant?

                                   BRYANT:
                         Sure, why not?  Put a fucking knife
                         in his side.  You got a problem
                         with that?

                                   SAWYER:
                         My opinion used to count for
                         something but it looks like your
                         mind's made up.

                                   BRYANT:
                         Hey, come on.  Not like that.

               SAWYER SLAMS the door as he leaves.



               INT. THE GULCH   DAY

               A beaten older man, SPARSKI, walks in and inquires at the
               bar.  The bartender, JIMMY, points out SAWYER having a drink
               at the far end of the bar.  SPARSKI approaches him.

                                   SPARSKI:
                         Be'n you Mr. Sawyer?

                                   SAWYER:
                         Yup.

                                   SPARSKI:
                         I'm Sparski.  I was told you're the
                         man to buy a lot from.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Yup.

                                   SPARSKI:
                         What's the going rate?

                                   SAWYER:
                         Depends on location.

                                   SPARSKI:
                         If I was to open a dry good store
                         on the main street here-

                                   SAWYER:
                         I'd need two thousand in payment
                         and 'nother two hundred in
                         insurance.

                                   SPARSKI:
                         That's pretty steep.

                                   SAWYER:
                         If you don't like it, you can move
                         on.

                                   SPARSKI:
                         No, no, this is the spot.  Is there
                         any chance-

                                   JIMMY:
                         I'll give you twenty-five hundred
                         for that spot, Sawyer.

                                   SPARSKI:
                         Twenty-six.

                                   JIMMY:
                         Twenty-six and fifty.

               SPARSKI considers for a second.

                                   SPARSKI:
                         I'll give you twenty-eight hundred. 
                         Final offer.

                                   JIMMY:
                         Too rich for me.  I'd have to sell
                         the saloon to finance that.

               SAWYER makes a motion and JIMMY pulls out a deed from under
               the bar.

                                   SAWYER:
                         How's your scribbling?

                                   SPARSKI:
                         I can write my name real good.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Then do it here.

               SPARSKI signs the deed and lays down a stack of bills and a
               bag of gold.  SAWYER nods.  SPARSKI exits, shouting that he's
               just bought a claim as soon as he's out the door.

                                   SAWYER:
                         That was dangerous, Jimmy.  He
                         might not have gone for it.

                                   JIMMY:
                         Well, life in Squalor's all a risk,
                         in'it?  You think I could get a
                         percentage?

                                   SAWYER:
                         No percentage in losing.

               SAWYER takes the money and walks off.



               INT. PASTOR DAVE'S CHURCH  AFTERNOON

               PASTOR DAVE is in the office, carefully writing out the words
               of his next sermon.  ELEANOR appears at the door.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         I'm not disturbing, am I?

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         Of course not.  You can help me
                         with my ciphers.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         You read the Bible so fluently.

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         I've got the best parts memorized. 
                         Nah, I was raised to believe, not
                         to read.

               ELEANOR stumbles a bit.  PASTOR DAVE rushes over and sits her
               in the chair.

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         Miss Eleanor, are you sick?

                                   ELEANOR:
                         I'm not well at all.  Can I ask
                         you: Does Bryant have something on
                         you?

               PASTOR DAVE is spooked.

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         Now why would you ask that?

                                   ELEANOR:
                         He's a scheming murderer.  And you
                         defer to him.

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         Sometimes you have to go along to
                         get along.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         What would the Lord say about lying
                         down to evil?

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         This is not a wasted town.  I have
                         fostered a flock here.  You could
                         say I brought Jesus to these
                         people.  And I turn more every day.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         You made a deal with the devil to
                         do so.

               PASTOR DAVE does not respond.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         The thing is, I'm with child.

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         Oh, I see.
                             (long pause)
                         How long?

                                   ELEANOR:
                         Two months, at most.

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         And why are you telling me?

                                   ELEANOR:
                         To ask you something.

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         There's a tea sold by that snake
                         charmer Finsmore.  If it acts as
                         advertised, you will have shed this
                         burden.

               ELEANOR is near tears.

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         But I can't sanction that no how. 
                         I am talking not as a Pastor now
                         but as a man helping a woman in
                         need.  If you are serious about
                         this, then take the tea.  But if-

                                   ELEANOR:
                         That's not what I was going to ask.
                             (beat)
                         I want you to bless the child and
                         take it away from here.  Find it a
                         family that will care for it and
                         provide.

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         I don't know how to answer that.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         Because if I raise this child with
                         Sawyer as his father, he will go
                         the way of him. Sawyer corrupts
                         everything he touches.

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         How will you hide the child?

                                   ELEANOR:
                         I have money saved.  I will go to a
                         mission in Texas.  I've made it
                         known that I have the TB.

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         Then why don't you make
                         arrangements in Texas to-

                                   ELEANOR:
                         Because, Pastor, I want you to come
                         with me.

               He becomes agitated, fidgety.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         I know it's a lot to ask.  But if
                         you say that you're training
                         missionaries in the Kansas
                         territory-

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         This town needs my guidance.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         This town will shed blood, soon
                         enough.  And I'm offering a way
                         out.  For the both of us.

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         Let me think about it.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         Can you pray for me?



               INT. A TRAIN CAR   DAY

               "MEAN" MIKE GRISSOM, a slovenly drunkard, sits by the window,
               blowing smoke out it as the train barrels onward.  He is
               nothing much to look at.  He appears to have a paunch and his
               clothes are eaten up, disintegrating.  Across the aisle, a
               dapper older man, EDWARD NEWGARDEN, is cleaning his glasses
               while his partner, JONATHAN WAITS, pontificates.

                                   WAITS:
                         It is precisely because PT Barnum
                         chose to name the elephant Jumbo
                         that the word has worked its way
                         into our lexicon.  And what a name
                         for the beast.  I saw him in
                         Boston.  Tall as three men stood
                         end to end.

                                   NEWGARDEN:
                         Standing on each other's shoulders
                         or stacked like pancakes?

                                   WAITS:
                         A query with a sense of mocking
                         sarcasm.  That's okay, Edward,
                         that's okay.  But had you seen the
                         animal, this Jumbo the Elephant,
                         you would be a true believer in the
                         pioneering use of invention by
                         Barnum. 
                         It wasn't enough that he found the
                         largest elephant, he also had to
                         give it the biggest name of the
                         day.  And what was that name?  Did
                         not exist, of course.  So he coined
                         one.

                                   GRISSOM:
                         Are you ladies going to talk all
                         the way to Cheyenne City?

               WAITS looks to NEWGARDEN.

                                   WAITS:
                         Well, we had planned to converse a
                         good part of the trip, to answer
                         your query on one level.  But you
                         expanded the issue by inquiring
                         about a time parameter.  Now, can
                         we honestly say that we will be
                         talking the entire time?

               GRISSOM tosses his cigarette out the window.

                                   GRISSOM:
                         Are you on your period?  That why
                         you're jawing at each other?

                                   WAITS:
                         Now that is laughable.  My partner
                         here has barely entered the
                         conversation.  As for a menstrual
                         cycle, I'm afraid that is a
                         biologic impossibility, much to our
                         delight.  It appears to be a
                         dreadful monthly ritual for the
                         fairer sex.

                                   NEWGARDEN:
                         What's your name?

                                   GRISSOM:
                         What's yours?

                                   WAITS:
                             (in stunned disbelief)
                         This is Edward Newgarden!  The
                         Pistoleer of St. Louis!  The Earl
                         of the East Plains!

                                   GRISSOM:
                         Yeah?  Well what are you doing
                         heading to Wyoming territory?

                                   WAITS:
                         If I may answer for him: Mr.
                         Newgarden has been contracted by an
                         agent to provide a legal service to
                         a community.

                                   GRISSOM:
                         You're guarding someone's gold?

                                   WAITS:
                         Well, we would prefer not to get
                         into specifics.
                             (beat)
                         What is your name, sir?

               GRISSOM BELCHES.

                                   WAITS:
                         Was that with one "t" or two? 
                         Joking, joking.

                                   GRISSOM:
                         I've heard of Newgarden.  I've
                         heard he's a swish.  Thinks his
                         shit don't stink.

                                   WAITS:
                         I'm not qualified to speculate on
                         the scent of offal.

                                   GRISSOM:
                         I also hear that he can shoot a man
                         twice and return to holster before
                         the other man has drawn.

                                   WAITS:
                         That, dear sir, is the truth.

               GRISSOM stands and moves close into WAITS.  WAITS leans back
               and shoots NEWGARDEN a plea for help.  NEWGARDEN throws his
               long hair back over his shoulder and lets his coat hang open. 
               A revolver peeks out.

                                   WAITS:
                         If there is a feud that I am not
                         aware of, or in any way connected
                         to-

                                   GRISSOM:
                             (to NEWGARDEN)
                         How much for your friend here?

                                   WAITS:
                             (laughing nervously)
                         Oh, I am not property, sir.

               GRISSOM withdraws a revolver and puts the barrel against
               WAITS' cheek.

                                   GRISSOM:
                         He'd look real funny sucking my
                         dick with no teeth.

                                   WAITS:
                         I'm afraid, sir, that my partner
                         will intervene soon and you will
                         find yourself in a, uh, dire
                         predicament.

                                   GRISSOM:
                         He won't because he recognizes me. 
                         And he don't want to get involved
                         in nothing I'm involved in.

                                   WAITS:
                         Edward.

               NEWGARDEN stands, a hand on his pistol.  GRISSOM cocks the
               pistol lodged into WAITS' cheek.

                                   GRISSOM:
                         I'll ask again: How much for your
                         friend?

                                   NEWGARDEN:
                         Would you be "Mean" Mike Grissom?

               GRISSOM nods.

                                   NEWGARDEN:
                         I'd be willing to let him go for
                         $150.

                                   WAITS:
                         Edward, what are you-

                                   NEWGARDEN:
                         But he won't be much good to you. 
                         There's no bounty on his head.

                                   GRISSOM:
                             (to WAITS)
                         You're not a gunslinger?

                                   WAITS:
                         Me?  Oh, lord no.  I'm, I'm an
                         accountant!  The Agency has
                         provided me as a, well not
                         particularly an escort, but-

                                   GRISSOM:
                             (to NEWGARDEN)
                         You got a price on your head?

               NEWGARDEN suddenly flashes his pistol out and FIRES A SHOT. 
               But GRISSOM was anticipating it and he drops to the floor
               before it is fired.  In a flash, he has his other pistol out
               and, without taking aim off WAITS, has put a shot right up
               the scalp of NEWGARDEN.  There is SCREAMING as the four or
               five others in the car make a run for the exit.  NEWGARDEN is
               stunned, frozen.  There is smoke rising from his hair and an
               ugly gash from the top of his forehead into his hair.

                                   GRISSOM:
                         Damn. You got lucky, Newgarden. 
                         Lost my aim in the fall.

               NEWGARDEN falls backwards.  GRISSOM becomes aware of a puddle
               of water creeping in on him.  He turns and looks.  WAITS has
               wet himself.

                                   GRISSOM:
                         Sorry to bust your cherry.

                                   WAITS:
                         You just shot Edward Newgarden!

                                   GRISSOM:
                         He drew on me first.

               GRISSOM stands and walks to the prostrate body.  He takes the
               guns and pulls out a small bag of gold nuggets.

                                   WAITS:
                         Did you kill him?

                                   GRISSOM:
                             (after a pause, as though
                              inconvenienced)
                         He'll live.  Write down in your
                         ledger that I'm taking his gold. 
                         If he wants it back, he can come
                         find me in Squalor. 
                         But you let him know: If I see him
                         coming, I'm just gonna start
                         shooting and assume it's self
                         defense.

                                                                CUT TO:



               EXT. THE CAJUN   DAY

               The town's deputies are gathered in strength around the
               saloon.  Gunfire rings out from the windows upstairs and the
               deputies return fire.  PASCAL is standing behind a cart a
               little down the street.  SAWYER walks up to him.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Afternoon, Sheriff.  Breaking up
                         the joint?

                                   PASCAL:
                         You knew we'd have to, Sawyer.  I
                         remember you being in the room at
                         the time.

                                   SAWYER:
                         What's the news on Evers?

                                   PASCAL:
                         They're building a coffin his size.

                                   SAWYER:
                         How's a man that doesn't drink
                         going to fall off the ridge?

                                   PASCAL:
                         Hell, I don't know, Sawyer.  Late
                         at night, maybe he didn't see it.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Moon was full last night for me. 
                         Didn't you get the same?

               The SHOOTING escalates.

                                   PASCAL:
                         Jesus!  Bryant's cutting off his
                         nose to spite his face here.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Mr. Bryant will do what he wants,
                         when he wants.  You still take your
                         marching orders from him.

                                   PASCAL:
                         I just don't want to see nobody
                         killed is all.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Thing about killing is: Once you've
                         done enough of it, it stops.  Cuz
                         there ain't no one left to kill.

               A prostitute runs out of the saloon and is shot square in the
               head.  She collapses backwards onto the wooden sidewalk.

                                   PASCAL:
                         Damn, that was Rosy.  We'll catch
                         hell for that.

               A strange contingent appears at the end of the street.  It is
               PASTOR DAVE and a dozen or so of his followers.  They are
               marching up the street coldly, solemnly.  As they get near
               the saloon, the deputies hold their fire.  There is no fire
               from the saloon either.

                                   PASCAL:
                         Pastor Dave!  What are you doing
                         here?

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         Sheriff Pascal, we are here in the
                         name and spirit of the lord Jesus
                         Christ.

                                   PASCAL:
                         Well, I guess we all are.  But why
                         are you interfering with-

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         Look at this poor, dead woman on
                         the ground.  You are all murderers.

                                   PASCAL:
                         Hell, Pastor Dave, they're just
                         doing their job.  Nobody meant to
                         shoot her.  And what's one whore,
                         more or less?

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         I regret that I was not able to
                         make a greater impact on Rosy's
                         life and turn her away from the sin
                         of prostitution.  But was Mary
                         Magdalene not a prostitute?  The
                         intent of the Lord is to heal and
                         give comfort. 
                         To put to rest hatred and discord. 
                         You are opening fresh wounds here,
                         Sheriff.

               PASCAL does not know how to react.  Finally, he says:

                                   PASCAL:
                         You people are all in danger.  You
                         should go home and lock the door.

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         Go home?  We ARE home, Sheriff. 
                         This is our town.

               SAWYER decides to intercede.  He gets between PASTOR DAVE and
               PASCAL.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Maybe he's right, Sheriff.  Maybe
                         your boys should pick up and head
                         back to the jail.

                                   PASCAL:
                         We're right in the middle of-

                                   SAWYER:
                         The point's been made.  Only thing
                         that can result now is more blood.

                                   PASTOR DAVE:
                         Jesus shed his blood to save you,
                         Sheriff.  Will you honor his
                         sacrifice?

               PASCAL stares at him for a second and then turns to face his
               men.  He turns back to SAWYER.

                                   PASCAL:
                         You sure we can go?

                                   SAWYER:
                         Yes.

                                   PASCAL:
                             (to his men)
                         C'mon boys!  We're done here!
                             (back to SAWYER)
                         You'd better square this with
                         Bryant.  I'm not being reamed on
                         account of you.

                                   SAWYER:
                             (loud enough for PASTOR
                              DAVE'S flock to hear)
                         I didn't save you this day, the
                         Lord did.

                                   FLOCK:
                         Praise Jesus.

               The deputies and PASCAL begin to filter out.  People walk out
               of the Cajun.  SAWYER enters it.  He finds PATTERSON sitting
               on a stool near an overturned table.  Two armed men flank
               him.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Sorry for the mess, Patterson.

                                   PATTERSON:
                         Sorry ain't gonna bring nobody
                         back.

                                   SAWYER:
                         You lose any in here?

               PATTERSON makes a dismissive gesture with his hand.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Don't you care?

                                   PATTERSON:
                             (looking deep into his
                              eyes)
                         I wasn't the one that come in and
                         start shooting.
                             (beat)
                         How much you owe me now, Sawyer?

                                   SAWYER:
                         I'm paying you off, aren't I?

                                   PATTERSON:
                         Mayhap that pretty young thing
                         you're with could pay some too.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Then again, it might be easier to
                         give you the big payoff.

               He taps a finger on the butt of his revolver.  The armed men
               pull their pistols and aim at him.

                                   SAWYER:
                         I didn't come in here to get shot.

               SAWYER turns and begins to leave but PATTERSON stops him.

                                   PATTERSON:
                         Son, you're in a whole heap of
                         trouble.

               SAWYER notices that the whole front of the building is
               riddled with bullet holes that let the light in.  He turns
               back to PATTERSON.

                                   SAWYER:
                         You're in it with me, Patterson.

                                                                CUT TO:



               EXT. THE CAJUN   DAY

               SAWYER walks out of the hole-ridden door and pauses on the
               wooden sidewalk.  He looks around.  The sun is beginning to
               set.  There is still a crowd milling around.  He decides to
               address them.

                                   SAWYER:
                         By the order of Mayor Leake, this
                         establishment is closed.

               Some stay and watch him, others straggle off to the next
               saloon, the Gulch.

                                                                CUT TO:



               INT. SAWYER'S ROOM  AFTERNOON

               ELEANOR lays on the bed, a wet washcloth over her forehead. 
               SAWYER is staring out the window.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         It's a special sort of place.  They
                         treat the TB there.  It's in west
                         Texas, near New Mexico Territory. 
                         So it's a desert climate.  That's
                         good for-

                                   SAWYER:
                         Did you even think to ask me to go
                         with you?

               This freezes her.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         It will be for several months.

                                   SAWYER:
                         There's dangerous men coming to
                         town.  If I didn't owe Bryant my
                         life-

                                   ELEANOR:
                         There's killing coming.  You're
                         good at that.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Yeah, well, I've always been good
                         at that.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         Are you drunk?

               He turns on her.  Sees the empty glass next to the bed.

                                   SAWYER:
                             (just as mean)
                         How's the headache?

               There is a long pause.

                                   SAWYER:
                         I'm sorry. I know Doc Abner
                         wouldn't give you nothing that you
                         don't need.  You're not like the
                         others, Eleanor.  There's something
                         special about you.  And sometimes I
                         get scared of how I feel.  It
                         brings out...

                                   ELEANOR:
                         The dark side?

                                   SAWYER:
                         A man's only got one side.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         What about Pastor Dave?

                                   SAWYER:
                         You can't change who you really
                         are.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         I love you, Sawyer.
                             (beat)
                         What are you thinking about?

                                   SAWYER:
                         A dream I had.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         Yeah?

                                   SAWYER:
                         I was up near the ridge, roasting
                         potatoes over a fire.  And a spark
                         jumped out and lit my coat.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         So you threw it off.  But when you
                         did, you saw it wasn't a coat no
                         more.  It was something else. 
                         Something dangerous.  A snake
                         maybe.

                                   SAWYER:
                         No.  I didn't throw it off.  And it
                         wasn't a snake.  I just burned up
                         there.  Half the town was out
                         watching me.  They just let me
                         burn.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         Is Bryant going to look after
                         Stanz?

                                   SAWYER:
                         Mmmmm.

                                   ELEANOR:
                         Don't ever let on more than you
                         half to.

                                   SAWYER:
                         Now's a good time to go.  It'll
                         spare you what happens here.
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