Klondike Page #30

He doesn’t say anything. But his eyes do: Goddamn me.

No...Goddamn God. For given man a conscience. Gonna be the

death of me. As he perseveres--CUT TO-

INT. MILL - NIGHT

Meekor, pale, sick, relaying Bill’s need to Belinda:

MEEKOR:

He’s expecting the wood.

BELINDA MULRONEY

(looking out window)

In this weather.

(head shake)

Half-wit’s got way too much faith

in fellow man. Thinkin’ someone

like me’s just gonna saddle up and

ride out into that. To deliver him

wood. That he wants on credit.

MEEKOR:

Was thinkin’ the same thing. But I

figured he didn’t wanna hear it,

and if I did say it, your ears’d be

burning somewhere. So I didn’t say

it.

BELINDA MULRONEY (BEAT, DECIDING)

I ain’t doin’ it.

MEEKOR:

Plenty of men’ve died in the Yukon

outta the wrong kinda courage. Be a

shame, though. He’s a good one.

BELINDA MULRONEY

Don’t you put this on me, Meekor.

MEEKOR:

I don’t put nothing on no one. I

just talk.

BELINDA MULRONEY

How much firewood does he have?

MEEKOR:

Not enough.

Belinda shakes her head. Eyes the storm. Knows this is all on

her. She has every right to say no. And still. With quiet,

knowing chagrin:

37.

BELINDA MULRONEY

Why couldn’t I have been in the

goddamn rubber business?

EXT. MILL - NIGHT

Belinda, in the rain, prepping horse-and-wagon. The load of

wood on the back. Meekor follows her:

MEEKOR:

Reckon I oughta tell all those

people that say you ain’t got a

heart...that you really do.

BELINDA MULRONEY (SMILES INWARDLY)

Man do you got a way with words,

Joe.

As she mounts the cart.

MEEKOR:

I’ll come with you-

BELINDA MULRONEY

Hell no, if that’s typhoid on your

breath, I don’t wanna be sucking

the same air as you. Get to the

hospital. Do one thing smart.

(snaps reins)

HA!

The wagon lurches forward, heads out into the storm, leaving

Meekor behind in the muddy street. As her wagon passes a

window--lit up in the night--camera pushes in, find-

INT. CONSTABLE’S OFFICE - NIGHT

--Steele. Contemplative in the night. Looking at those

sleeping Tlingit. He grabs his rifle. Awakens them.

CONSTABLE STEELE

We’re going for a walk.

As the Tlingit awaken, mobilize uncertainly...

EXT. BONANZA CREEK - NIGHT

Bill struggles back to the creek with his last reserves.

There’s a shriek up ahead of him. A WOMAN coming out of her

tent, recognizing the fallen man on Bill’s tarp-

WOMAN:

My husband--! What...what-

38.

Bill pauses. Sees beside her, 2 terrified children. Not your

typical “frontier” family--but instead an 1897 version of

suburban yuppies that have bit off more than they can chew in

the wilderness.

Bill looks back to the fallen man with new eyes. He pulls the

semi-lucid man to a sitting position.

BILL:

He’s still with us, ma’am. Don’t

you worry-

But the woman and the kids are already on him--hugging him,

wiping away the blood-

WOMAN (PANICKED)

What happened? How’d he get hurt--?

(to miner)

You okay, baby? You okay?

Bill doesn’t answer her, because no words serve. Instead,

seeing the meager, fading embers of the fire inside their

shelter...he pauses, separates out some of his newfound wood,

crosses to the fire, and tosses them atop the dying flame.

The moment is not lost to the woman. The children. They look

at him, somewhere between shocked and confused.

Then he takes his muddied, weary frame and disappears into

the night, pulling the remainder of his wood behind him.

EXT. BILL’S CLAIM - NIGHT

Bill, thoroughly soaked, exhausted, gets back to his claim...

...and finds it’s been looted. Some of the better equipment,

gone. Yet...all that matters in this moment is fire.

As he vainly tries to ignite his “haul” from the hillside, it

becomes clear that no matter what he tries--carving away the

wet bark, etc.--it won’t light. It just produces taunting

swirls of smoke.

BILL (FREEZING)

Light...you son of a b*tch...

But it will not. We’ve seen Bill in many a miserable state,

but this:
the worst. He sinks to the mud. Hope and will

fading...then...

Someone appears at the edge of his claim. A wagon-load of

dry, tarped wood behind her.

Bill looks up...and sees through the rain...Belinda.

END ACT THREE:

39.

ACT FOUR:

EXT. BILL’S CLAIM - NIGHT

As Bill and Belinda hurried shuttle the wood to his claim

through the increasingly nasty weather-

BILL:

If I were a bit more of a religious

man, I'd say you were an angel.

BELINDA MULRONEY

Been called a lot of things, but

never that.

She looks surprised when Bill marches some of that dry wood

down to the suburban couple’s claim.

BELINDA MULRONEY (CONT’D)

What’re you doing-

BILL:

Gave em wet wood before.

EXT. ADJACENT CLAIM - MOMENTS LATER

Bill drops a stack of wood at the feet of the suburbanites.

The man--his erstwhile foe--looks up incredulously. Belinda

observes from the periphery.

BILL:

This oughta burn right.

MINER:

Can't believe...you’d do this...

BILL:

Need more, you come find me.

He’s out the door. Off Belinda, lingering behind, ever so

briefly-

EXT. BILL’S CLAIM - MOMENTS LATER

Belinda follows Bill through the rain as they move more wood-

BELINDA MULRONEY

The man tried to take an axe to

you?

BILL (CONTINUING TO WORK)

Wasn't him swinging it.

(beat; as much about

himself)

Was something inside of him.

Something the weather put there and

he’d rather not of seen.

40.

They’re interrupted by whinnying. Groaning wood. The wagon-on

the unsteady mud of the hillside, its cargo balance now

shifted with the offloading of wood--starts to slide.

Bill & Belinda rush to it. Try to arrest it-

BELINDA MULRONEY

Oh no you don’t-

But it’s inexorable. Too much weight. The slope too muddy.

The horses snap free.

Bill and Belinda struggle to stop the cart’s slide--their

feet slipping in the mud-

The cart drives them downward, tipping, threatening to crush

them-

Bill yanks Belinda away just as the wood crashes over the

edge of the cart-

--and smashes down into the creek in a thunderous roar of

splashing water, tumbling rocks, and splintering wood--the

wheels and frame of the cart cracking, collapsing.

Beat. Bill & Belinda regard the broken vehicle in the rain.

The wood strewn about the bank and stream. Not good. Not at

all.

INT. BILL’S CLAIM / SHELTER - LATER

Belinda looks out at the weather. Both of them: wet, muddy.

BELINDA MULRONEY (PISSED)

Son of a goddamn. Goddamn son of a.

Man, you are one stupid, stupid

woman.

(re weather)

Thinking you could get back before

it went 100% to sh*t.

BILL (EYES WEATHER)

May be stupid, but like I said, you

saved my ass. Wish I could offer

you something.

Belinda looks around at the damp, rudimentary shelter that

houses Bill and Meekor. Knowing full well the impossibility:

BELINDA MULRONEY

Hot shower’d be good. Dry bedding.

BILL (YEP, NO SH*T)

Like I said:
wish I could offer you

something.

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