Klondike Page #28

BELINDA MULRONEY (CONT’D)

Reach in there. The compact. Pull

it out.

Sabine slowly does. Retrieves Belinda’s pocket mirror.

BELINDA MULRONEY (CONT’D)

Now look. See. See what you are.

As Sabine slowly holds it up, looks upon herself--sees the

disheveled whore looking back at her--she recoils.

SABINE:

You...go to hell.

BELINDA MULRONEY (COOLLY)

Might get to it one day...but I

reckon you’re already there.

SABINE:

You righteous b*tch. Righteous rich

b*tch-

Wham! Belinda suddenly slaps her. Sabine looks shocked.

BELINDA MULRONEY

You watch how you talk to me.

Righteous is one thing. You call me

rich again...

(holds up money)

This right here is a lifetime to my

family, you understand? Every red

cent. Every red cent matters. But

you, you just blow through cash

every night, like it grows on

goddamn trees. How’s that? Tell me

how’s that? How’s it you disrespect

money so much?

SABINE:

Better’n worshipping it like you-

BELINDA MULRONEY

Oh no. I respect it. ‘Cause if I

got it...I don’t got to do what you

do. Ever again.

She pauses, as if she’s spit something out she didn’t mean

to. Sabine sobers at the inference. What?

27.

BELINDA MULRONEY (CONT’D)

That’s what men got over you.

Money. Once they don’t, they got no

sway. And you get to keep your

integrity. Which is worth more than

all the gold in this goddamn,

frozen shitbox.

SABINE:

I’m...sorry.

BELINDA MULRONEY

Don’t say sorry to me. Say it to

yourself-

SABINE (LONG BEAT)

I...I...can’t.

She nears Belinda, breaks slightly. All of this drama. The

rain and the cold. She starts to cry.

SABINE (CONT’D)

I can’t say sorry to myself...not

for the things I’ve done...

because I wouldn’t be able to

forgive myself if I did...

She moves to be comforted. Belinda dithers. Doesn’t want to

go to the hugging place. She nevertheless embraces the broken

woman. As her eyes drift to Judge’s makeshift chapel across

the street-

BELINDA MULRONEY

That’s a bigger sorta problem.

INT. JUDGE’S CHURCH - NIGHT

Belinda marches Sabine in. Surprises Judge.

BELINDA MULRONEY (CONT’D)

Where’s the sermon?

FATHER JUDGE (COOL SHRUG)

Need a flock for a sermon.

Otherwise may as well talk to God

directly.

BELINDA MULRONEY

You wanna flock? Well you got one

now.

She pushes Sabine forward. Then, in a silent aside to Judge:

BELINDA MULRONEY (WHISPER) (CONT’D)

God may be bullshit. But the fear

of God ain’t. You put that into

her, understand?

28.

Off the two of them--an understanding--CUT TO-

INT. CONSTABLE’S OFFICE - NIGHT

Steele. Looking up to see a Canadian Government Official

enter. CAVENDESH. Expensive furs. Bureaucrat through and

through. Not made for this land.

CAVENDESH:

You look vaguely surprised.

CONSTABLE STEELE

Just a long way for a deputy

minster of the interior to come,

that’s all.

CAVENDESH:

We do tend to hibernate in Ottawa

at the first sign of winter. But

the Dawson problem's apparently too

pressing to let wait til Spring. At

least according to my superiors.

Steele eyes him a beat.

CONSTABLE STEELE

The Dawson Problem?

INT. CONSTABLE’S OFFICE - LATER

Camera rises from the 2 Tlingit, sleeping in their cell, to

Cavendesh, pacing slowly and calmly before Steele.

CAVENDESH:

...as you know, the Yukon's a

serious boon for Canada. The

government’s encouraging

Canadianing companies to come up,

develop the land. Her resources.

But said companies are uneasy about

committing capital to a lawless

region. Word’s gotten back-justified

or not--that the “natives

are restless”.

(nods to Tlingit)

You wanna scare a white guy in a

corporate board room? Tell him he’s

investing in a land full of angry

brown people.

(meets gazes with Steele)

So, obviously, they need to

understand that the Klondike is not

lawless.

He surveys the sleeping Tlingit impassively.

29.

CAVENDESH (CONT’D)

If they're killers...they need to

die.

CONSTABLE STEELE

Granted. But as of yet, I’m not

100% certain that they’re the ones.

Cavendesh looks to him. Come on, that’s not what this is

about. Have you heard anything I’ve said? Coolly:

CAVENDESH:

Then get 100% certain.

A long beat as they eye each other. Cavendesh, trusting his

point’s gotten across, collects his coat somewhat cheerfully.

CAVENDESH (CONT’D)

We'll sup tomorrow night. I

understand there are some

remarkable restaurants in Dawson.

Lobster from the Pacific, Angus

from Winnipeg, which you wouldn’t

think, given the godforsaken landlocked

nature of this place. No

offense.

Steele smiles--all decorum, but still--you’re a dick-

CONSTABLE STEELE

None taken.

Cavendesh gives a final nod to the Tlingit.

CAVENDESH:

I trust this matter will be dealt

with in an...expedient fashion.

Which will allow us to discuss more

pressing matters. Like the

expansion of your force. Over a

tawny port, of course.

He exits. Leaves Steele there, torn, his eyes drifting back

to the sleeping Tlingit...

Over this, we hear Latin--a plaintive liturgy-

INT. JUDGE’S CHURCH - NIGHT

We find Judge, preaching to his flock of one: Sabine. Doing

it Catholic Old-school: his back to congregation, the mass

conducted in Latin toward the pulpit. Extraordinarily

impersonal. Sabine, uneasy.

CU:
Judge as he intones the dry Latin...fully aware of the

echoing gap between the two souls in this place. Finally, he

stops. Drops the formality. Smiles inwardly, steps down:

30.

FATHER JUDGE:

Probably enough of that, isn’t it?

Don’t wanna give you the sense that

a love of God requires a man to

have a stick up his ass.

The frankness catches Sabine unaware. She smiles uneasily.

FATHER JUDGE (CONT’D)

How can I help you?

SABINE:

Who says I need help.

FATHER JUDGE (WRY SMILE)

That mascara running down your face

does.

He retrieves a beer. Opens it. Offers it to her. Again,

informality. Which surprises her. She takes a sip.

SABINE:

Guess I’m wondering if God hates

me.

FATHER JUDGE (TAKES BEER BACK, DRINKS)

Why’s that?

SABINE:

Cause I hate me.

(beat)

And if I hate me, He must hate me,

right? For being a whore...

Judge takes a long pull of beer, thinks.

FATHER JUDGE:

Ain’t no such thing as hate in this

world or the next. Only love and

fear.

He hands her back the beer. Nods assiduously:

FATHER JUDGE (CONT’D)

You just got to ask yourself which

of those two places you’re

operating from.

EXT. BONANZA CREEK - NIGHT

Half the claims lie empty in the rain. Miners have fled the

weather; run out of resources; sought shelter in Dawson. And

through this come the thieves, stealing everything in sight.

31.

EXT. ENCAMPMENT - NIGHT

An old, semi-infirm miner shivers. GOODMAN. Pressed up close

to the dying embers of a fire. Easy pickings for the “wolves”

out there. He looks up, damp and scared.

Someone’s on the claim. Coming at him through the shadows.

He raises his small-bore shotgun. Calls out with fear:

GOODMAN:

Shoot you down right there you so

much as take another step.

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