Lone Star Page #6

ATHENA:

I know that, Sergeant. We were

just dancing. There was a bunch

of us there. Shadow just come

down looking for trouble.

CLIFF:

It's not our job to get involved

in your personal life, but when

it interferes with the training

here--

ATHENA:

I'm sorry, Sergeant Major. There

wasn't anything I could do. Shadow

gets crazy--

A silence as the sergeant lets her stew for a moment. She

works up her courage--

ATHENA:

Sergeant Major? How is Richie

doing? Private Graves?

CLIFF:

He'll live.

PRISCILLA:

He'll be transferred to a military

hospital as soon as he's stabilized--

CLIFF:

He'll probably be getting a medical

discharge--

ATHENA:

Out of the Army?

CLIFF:

He's going to lose a lung.

This is not good news for Athena--

ATHENA:

Will this go on my record?

Cliff considers for a long moment--

CLIFF:

If the incident happened the way

you say it did, there hasn't been

an infraction.

ATHENA:

Thank you, Sergeant Major.

CLIFF:

You're dismissed.

ATHENA:

Thank you, Sergeant Major.

Athena steps out of the room. Cliff sits on the desk--

PRISCILLA:

You spoil 'em, Cliff.

CLIFF:

Hey--she's in a tough situation.

I cut her some slack--

PRISCILLA:

But I'm the one in charge of her

sorry ass.

CLIFF:

She's pulled herself out of a

pretty rough neighborhood

Crossing to the door--

PRISCILLA:

And if she isn't careful she's

gonna slide right back into it.

EXT. BLEDSOE HOUSE -- DAY -- ROCKER

We start on a CU of a rocker creaking back and forth on an

old wooden porch. A WOMAN HUMS

MINNIE:

MINNIE BLEDSOE, in her 60s, sits on her porch in the old

Black section of town, playing with a Gameboy. She has very

thick glasses on. Sam walks up to her from his car--

SAM:

Mrs. Bledsoe?

MINNIE:

That's me.

SAM:

I'm Sheriff Deeds--

MINNIE:

Sheriff Deeds' dead, honey--you

just Sheriff junior.

SAM:

(Smiles)

Yeah, that's the story of my life.

MINNIE:

You ever play one of these?

SAM:

I've seen 'em.

MINNIE:

Well, don't ever start up on 'em,

cause once you do you can't stop.

I tell myself I'm gonna play just

three little games after breakfast,

and here I sit with half the day

gone.

SAM:

You mind if I ask a few questions

about your husband? Roderick?

MINNIE:

I won't say nothing bad about the

man, but you can ask away.

SAM:

He had the club out on the old

trail road--

MINNIE:

We run that twenty-odd years.

Give it over to Otis Payne in

1967. April.

SAM:

So you must remember Sheriff Wade.

MINNIE:

Not if I can help it.

SAM:

You had to deal with him in running

the club.

MINNIE:

Them days, you deal with Sheriff

Wade or you didn't deal at all.

First of the month, every month,

he remind you of who you really

workin' for.

SAM:

He squeezed money out of you?

MINNIE:

Wasn't legal to sell liquor in a

glass back then unless you was a

club, see. Roderick used to say,

"Buy yourself a drink, you get a

free membership." But Sheriff

Wade, he could shut you down

anytime.

SAM:

And my father?

MINNIE:

Sheriff Buddy was a different

story. Long as Roderick throw

his weight the right way on

election day, make sure all the

colored get out to vote-we was

called colored back then, if you

was polite--maybe throw a barbecue

for the right people now and then,

things was peaceful. That Sheriff

Wade, though, he took an awful

big bite.

SAM:

People didn't complain?

MINNIE:

Not if they was colored or Meskin.

Not if they wanted to keep

breathin'.

SAM:

Do you remember the last time you

saw him?

Minnie thinks, puts down the Gameboy--

MINNIE:

I seen him in our place the last

week before he gone missin'.

We TRACK in to a close-up of her. R&B MUSIC FADES UP slowly --

MINNIE:

He used to come in whilst we was

in full swing, make people nervous.

Had him a smile like the Grim

Reaper--

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. ROADHOUSE --

The joint is crowded, people drinking, talking, laughing, a

few dancing, all trying to avoid locking eyes with Sheriff

Wade, who sits with his legs stretched out at a table. Young

Hollis sits by him, smiling uncomfortably. Sax-wailing R&B

blasts from the jukebox. YOUNG OTIS, a slick, confident

character with straightened hair and a silk shirt on, in his

early 20s, stops to talk with a MAN on his way to bring a

tray with a couple beers and glasses over

MINNIE (V.O.)

--just sit back with his hand on

that big ol' gun and act the

kingfish with everybody. Otis

Payne had come to work for us by

then, and that boy had him some

attitude--

CU WADE:

Watching Young Otis with narrowed eyes--

CU WADE'S POV -- OTIS

A man puts a slip of paper in Otis's pocket, pats his back.

Otis winks to acknowledge the bet, turns, makes eyes at a

PRETTY WOMAN sitting at the bar, who is eyeing him back. He

lays the beers and glasses on the table, starts away

WADE:

Pour it.

OTIS TURNS, CUPS HIS BAND AROUND HIS EAR-

WADE:

Pour it.

Expressionless, he starts to pour the beer into Wade's glass.

The Sheriff looks up into his face--

WADE:

I know you?

YOUNG OTIS:

Name's Otis.

WADE:

Otis what?

YOUNG OTIS:

Payne.

WADE:

One of Cleroe Payne's boys?

YOUNG OTIS:

Uh-huh.

WADE:

I sent your Daddy to the farm

once.

YOUNG OTIS:

I know that.

WADE:

Why you think that was?

Otis feels people watching. He doesn't want to lose face--

YOUNG OTIS:

Some crop needed pickin' and the

man was shorthanded.

A very insolent answer for the time and place--

WADE:

As I remember it was because he

had a sassy mouth on him. Must

run in the family--You wouldn't

be runnin' numbers out of this

club, now, would you, son?

YOUNG OTIS:

Runnin' numbers illegal.

WADE:

Runnin' numbers without I know

about it is both illegal and

unhealthy You remember that.

The beer is poured. Otis starts away--

WADE:

Whoah, son. You're not finished.

Pour his.

YOUNG HOLLIS:

I prefer it in the bottle--

WADE:

Shut up, Hollis. Pour.

Otis meets Wade's look now, pours the other beer--

WADE:

How come you don't took familiar?

YOUNG OTIS:

Been away. Up to Houston.

WADE:

Houston, huh? I hear they let

you boys run wild up there.

No response. Wade deliberately pushes the glass away so

beer splashes on the table and drips into Hollis's lap--

WADE:

Aw--look what you done now. Better

get something to wipe it up, son.

Half the people in the room are watching now, the other half

moving away to relative safety. Otis tries to keep a lid on

his temper, looks around the room--

YOUNG OTIS:

You spilt it, you wipe it up.

Wade stands, steely-eyed, and looks at Otis nose to nose--

WADE:

I told you to do something. Are

you gonna hop to it, or are we

gonna have a problem?

Otis is starting to shake, but holds his ground--

WADE:

Don't want to turn tail in front

of your people. I understand.

He starts to turn away then WHAP! brings the butt of his

pistol up under Otis's chin, knocking him to the floor A

woman SCREAMS and Otis, enraged, grabs the chair he has fallen

over, starts to get up -- but Wade has the pistol levelled

at his face--

WADE:

Come on, Houston, give it a try!

Come to Poppa--

RODERICK is out on the floor now, hands held out in a gesture

of peace, as YOUNG MINNIE watches from behind the bar,

petrified--

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