Lone Star Page #2

HOLLIS:

So Buddy walks up to the porch

and there's old Fishbait McHenry,

cleanin' the dirt out his toenails

with a pocketknife--he was the

most hygienic of all the McHenrys--

The breakfast companions are laughing already--

HOLLIS:

"Fishbait," says Buddy, in that

quiet way of his, "what you know

about them tires that went missing

from markets?" Fishbait thinks

for a minute, then he lifts up a

loose board from the porch floor

and calls down into it, "C'mon

out, Pooter, they caught us!"

FENTON:

(Laughing)

Buddy Deeds. He had a way.

HOLLIS:

He known who it was onnaconna the

tire tracks in the dirt from the

back of the garage to where they

loaded up. "Old Fishbait," he

says, "never lifted a thing in

this world if there was a way he

could roll it."

More laughter--

FENTON:

Won't be another like him. That

boy of his doesn't come near it.

You ask me, he's all hat and no

cattle

SAM (O.S.)

Fellas--

We WIDEN to see Sam standing by their booth. No telling how

long he's been listening, Fenton is embarrassed.

HOLLIS:

Sam! I was just telling a few

about your old man.

FENTON:

He was a unique individual.

SAM:

Yeah, he was that.

We sense a little strain when Sam has to talk about his father--

HOLLIS:

Big day coming up--I wish we'd

have thought of it while he was

still living. But he went so

unexpected

FENTON:

Better late than never. Korean

War hero, Sheriff for near thirty

years--Buddy Deeds Memorial P---

SAM:

I heard there was a bit of a fuss.

HOLLIS:

Oh, you know, the usual

troublemakers. Danny Padilla

from the Sentinel, that crowd.

FENTON:

Every other damn thing in the

country is called after Martin

Luther King, they can't let our

side have one measly park?

HOLLIS:

King wasn't Mexican, Fenton--

FENTON:

Bad enough all the street names

are in Spanish--

SAM:

They were here first.

FENTON:

Then name it after Big Chief

Shitinabucket! Whoever that

Tonkawa fella was. He had the

Mexes beat by centuries.

HOLLIS:

There was a faction pulling for

that boy who was killed in the

Gulf War--Ruben--

SAM:

--Santiago.

HOLLIS:

Right. But nobody here ever

noticed him till they read his

name on the national news--

FENTON:

They just wanted it to be one of

theirs--

HOLLIS:

That's not the whole story. The

Mexicans that know, that remember,

understand what Buddy was for

their people. Hell, it was

Mercedes over there who swung the

deciding vote for him.

Sam looks to the register where Pilar's mother, MERCEDES

CRUZ, whacks rolls of change apart on the counter. She seems

to be avoiding looking toward him.

SAM:

That so?

HOLLIS:

She put it even at three to three,

so as the Mayor I get to cast the

tiebreaker. The older generation

won't have any problem with it.

They remember how Buddy come to

be Sheriff, that it was all 'cause

he took their part.

FENTON:

Tell that one, Hollis--

HOLLIS:

Hell, everybody heard that story

a million times.

SAM:

I'd like to hear it. Your version

of it.

Something about the way Sam says it puts Hollis on guard.

FENTON:

Go ahead, Hollis.

CU HOLLIS:

Hollis is hooked into it now --

HOLLIS:

The two of us were the only

deputies back then me and Buddy--

it's what--'58--

FENTON (O.S.)

'57, 1 believe--

HOLLIS:

And the Sheriff at the time was

Big Charley Wade. Charley was

one of your old-fashioned bribe-

or-bullets kind of Sheriffs, he

took a healthy bite out of whatever

moved through this county.

He looks down at the table--

HOLLIS:

It was in here one night, back

when Jimmy Herrera run the place.

Started right here in this booth.

We PAN down to the table, The food has changed. The tortillas

are in a straw basket instead of plastic. The jukebox changes

to ANOTHER SONG and the LIGHT DIMS slightly. A hand with a

big Masonic ring on one finger appears to lift a tortilla --

underneath it lie three ten-dollar bills. The hand lifts

them up and we TILT to see the face of SHERIFF CHARLEY WADE,

a big, mean redneck with shrewd eyes

It is 1957 --

WADE:

(Grins)

This beaner fare doesn't agree

with me, but the price sure is

right.

WIDER:

Wade sits across from his young deputies, YOUNG HOLLIS (30s)

and BUDDY DEEDS (20s). A chicken-fried steak sits untouched

in front of Buddy. Hollis has the anxious look of an errand

boy, while Buddy is self-contained and quietly forceful for

his age.

BUDDY:

What's that for?

WADE:

Jimmy got a kitchen full of

wetbacks, most of 'em relatives.

People breed like chickens.

BUDDY:

So?

WADE:

I roust some muchacho on the

street, doesn't have his papers,

all he got to say is "Yo trabajo

para Jimmy Herrera."

Wade folds the money and stuffs if in his pocket--

WADE:

You got to keep the wheels greased,

son. Sheriff does his job right,

everybody makes out. Now this is

gonna be one of your pickups,

Buddy. First of the month, just

like the rent. Get the car,

Hollis.

Wade and Hollis slide out of the booth to stand.

BUDDY:

I'm not doing it.

Hollis stops a few feet away, shocked. Wade just stares

down at Buddy.

WADE:

Come again?

Buddy looks Wade in the eye, seemingly unafraid.

BUDDY:

It's your deal. You sweated it

out of him, you pick it up.

WADE:

There's gonna be some left over

for you, Buddy. I take care of

my boys

BUDDY:

That's not the point.

WADE:

You feeling bad for Jimmy? Have

him tell you the size of the

mordida they took out of his hide

when he run a place on the other

side. Those old boys in Ciudad

Leon--

BUDDY:

I'm not picking it up.

WADE:

You do whatever I say you do or

else you put it on the trail,

son.

The CUSTOMERS are all watching now, nervous.

Buddy thinks for a moment, not taking his eyes off Wade.

BUDDY:

How 'bout this--how 'bout you put

that shield on this table and

vanish before you end up dead or

in jail?

Wade rests his hand on his pistol. It is dead silent but

for the MUSIC on the box

BUDDY:

You ever shoot anybody was looking

you in the eye?

WADE:

Who said anything about shootin'

anybody?

Buddy has his gun out under the table. He slowly brings it

up and lays it flat on the table, not taking his hand off it

or his eyes off Wade.

BUDDY:

Whole different story; isn't it?

WADE:

You're fired. You're outta the

department.

BUDDY:

There's not a soul in this county

isn't sick to death of your

bullshit, Charley. You made

yourself scarce, you could make a

lot of people happy.

WADE:

You little pissant--

BUDDY:

Now or later, Charley. You won't

have any trouble finding me.

Wade feels the people around him waiting for a reaction. He

leans close to Buddy to croak in a hoarse whisper

WADE:

You're a dead man.

He turns and nearly bumps into Hollis. He gives the Deputy

a shove.

WADE:

Get the goddam car. We're going

to Roderick's.

CU BUDDY:

He watches till the screen door shuts behind them, then

holsters his gun and begins to saw at the steak as if nothing

had happened. He calls softly--

BUDDY:

Muchacho--mas cerveza por favor.

He looks up at somebody and we PAN till we see Sam, still

standing over the booth, listening.

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