Klondike Page #33

Off Belinda-

EXT. DAWSON CITY STREETS - MOMENTS LATER

Belinda rounds the corner, spitting mad. Condon behind her.

BELINDA MULRONEY

Don't ever pander to me about

conscience, you ledger-lovin' son-

of-a-b*tch.

Condon stops her. For the first time fighting back.

DAN CONDON:

And don't you go that way with me,

Belinda. I am this close to

walking.

BELINDA MULRONEY

Where you gonna go?

DAN CONDON:

Where do you think?

He looks back at the Count. Who nods to him--and Belinda-from

afar. Like he’s enjoying this. Belinda: shocked her arch-

foe has made inroads with her inner circle.

DAN CONDON (SOTTO) (CONT’D)

He's offering me twice what you're

paying. But out of fidelity--out of

heart, Belinda--I've been saying

no.

Which stops Belinda briefly. Condon continues, dead serious:

DAN CONDON (CONT’D)

You have hired me for a reason. To

keep you on your business plan. I'm

just a facilitator. If you don't

want the things you told me you

want, let me know, and I'll stand

down.

(beat)

(MORE)

53.

DAN CONDON (CONT’D)

But you're the one who told me in

the very beginning, it isn't about

the mines. Mines are just a bunch

of mud with maybe a year's worth of

payback in em.

He motions at all the construction. The commerce around them.

DAN CONDON (CONT’D)

But Dawson--Dawson's a town.

Beginning of a city. Paris of the

North. Meant to last not a

year...but centuries. That's where

the money is. You know it and I

know it.

(re Miners)

What those guys pull out of the

ground just paves our streets.

INT. BOARDING HOUSE - DAY

Belinda & Condon, moving up a poorly-lit stairwell. Low-end

whores pass. Someone’s got morphine in their arm in an

adjacent room-

DAN CONDON:

Haskell can recover. Hell, hire

him. Let him tend bar. Let him mill

wood. I guarantee it'll be higher

paying than that fool’s errand he’s

currently on.

On the next landing, they push open a door--revealing Soapy

Smith. He’s got a young Tlingit girl with him. Enough booze

and drugs to sedate an army.

SOAPY SMITH:

Ms. Mulroney. I trust you've come

to consummate the deal.

He approaches, half-clad. Sees the paperwork in Condon’s

hands. Trying to be amusing-

SOAPY SMITH (CONT’D)

Not ‘consummate’ in that way, but

you do get my point-

BELINDA MULRONEY

Shut it, Soap. Don't make this any

more sordid than it already is.

Off Soapy, eyeing her, knowing he’s on the verge of deal-

EXT. BILL’S CLAIM - DAY

CU:
The new load of wood, having shorn up Bill’s sagging

bench mine. Widen.

54.

Bill, the rebuilt superstructure above him. Pleased. Back in

business. The superstructure’s given the site stability. Now

allows him to clear away the constant seep, the unstable,

soupy mud on the mine’s “floor”. Below, a hollow space has

been revealed. He puts his hand into it...feels a flow of

water. Not stagnant, but a constant flow, unseen til now

beneath the surface. Visible through that limpid water:

placer. Gorgeous. Untouched for millenia. As he marvels at it-

--Meekor appears. A conflicted look on his face.

MEEKOR:

Goods news is I got walking

pneumonia.

BILL:

Not a whole lot of people’d qualify

that as good news-

MEEKOR:

When it means I don’t got typhoid

it is.

BILL (HONESTLY HAPPY)

Well now, congratulations.

(further excited)

You’ll also be elated to know...I

figured out why the site's been

fillin' in on itself. There's flow

under the surface. Small

subterranean creek, river. I don't

know. Placer soft as clouds.

He takes a scoop of that beautiful, light gravel.

BILL (CONT’D)

Meaning, if there's science to any

of this...that...is optimum, gold-

bearing soil.

MEEKOR (STRANGELY RESERVED)

Might want to hold up on that.

I started with the good news.

Bill looks up at him. Sensing something bad’s coming. Meekor

takes a deep breath. Almost funereal:

MEEKOR (CONT’D)

Ready for the bad?

Off Bill, knowing another shoe’s about to fall--CUT TO-

INT. MILL - DAY

--Bill, busting in on Belinda. Glares at her. She pretends to

go about paperwork, unfazed.

55.

BILL:

It true? You sell up that claim

from beneath me?

Belinda shakes her head dolefully, finally looks up at him.

BELINDA MULRONEY

Told you there weren’t no

civilization in me.

She gets up. Goes to the window. Matter-of-factly:

BELINDA MULRONEY (CONT’D)

Sold your note to Soapy. He’s not

gonna give you the week I was to

pay back the loan. He’s gonna

foreclose. Today.

She can’t bear to look at him.

PRE-LAP:
Over Bill--his dream shattered-

JACK LONDON (V.O.)

Sometimes a man’s dead on his feet

and he doesn’t know it.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. LANDSCAPE - DAY

--that desiccated corpse, a little further along in its decay-

INT. CONSTABLE’S OFFICE - DAY

--and the Tlingit in their cell, mournful, drained looks on

their faces. Steele watching. Cavendesh entering, surprised

to see the Tlingit still amongst the living.

CAVENDESH:

Thought we had an understanding.

STEELE (MATTER OF FACT)

I’m formally requesting a judge be

sent up to Dawson. So a proper case

can proceed. ’Cause if you want

justice up here...then we’re gonna

need a justice.

Cavendesh:
silently enraged.

CAVENDESH:

You don’t want to do this.

STEELE (CALM RESISTANCE)

Don’t tell me what I want to do.

(beat)

(MORE)

56.

STEELE (CALM RESISTANCE) (CONT'D)

I can call for the judge or you

can. Up to you.

Cavendesh:
incredulous. You dumb son of a b*tch!

CAVENDESH:

Government’ll eat you for lunch,

you know that don’t you?

STEELE (NODS)

Reckon it’s likely. Still want the

judge.

Cavendesh shakes his head with quiet ire.

CAVEDESH:

Wrong fight to pick, constable.

Wrong fight. But you picked it.

He lays the stink-eye on Steele, departs. Off Steele, slowly

looking back to the Tlingit...

EXT. BILL’S CLAIM - DAY

Meekor--rolling up his horrible painting of the polynesian

dream girl. Getting ready to fold up shop.

MEEKOR:

Man puts his shovel in the ground

that many times, God’s gotta reward

him. Just got to.

Then, shifting to his labrador-optimism:

MEEKOR (CONT’D)

We’ll just find another one.

Bill shakes his head. Knows all the claims are staked. Knows

he’s broke. This one was the one. Meekor moves down the road

to pack up the wagon.

Bill simmers. Finally snaps, rages with his shovel against

the injustice of nature, of Belinda, of fate. He smashes the

windlass. Smashes all his hard work. Beams and frames.

He drops in the mud in huffing frustration.

As he looks on at the muddy, collapsing mess of his mining

operation--something about his expression draws us in...

ANGLE. MEEKOR. 70 yards away. Finishing packing up the wagon.

Soapy approaching.

SOAPY SMITH:

Don't give me that look. I gave you

a chance. You coulda cashed in;

(MORE)

57.

SOAPY SMITH (CONT'D)

instead, you threatened me with

pugilism.

MEEKOR:

Nah. I just wanna kick yer ass.

(no love for the man)

Fer being a leech.

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