No Country for Old Men Page #5

He turns and goes.

The proprietor watches him.

EXT. DESERT AIRE - NIGHT

It is full night.

Moss is pushing open the door to his trailer. We see Carla

Jean inside.

CARLA JEAN:

Llewelyn? What the hell?

Moss enters and the door closes.

INT. MOSS' TRAILER - LATER

Carla Jean is finishing bandaging his arm.

MOSS:

Odessa.

CARLA JEAN:

Why would we go to Odessa?

MOSS:

Not we, you. Stay with your mother.

CARLA JEAN:

Well -- how come?

MOSS:

Right now it's midnight Sunday. When the courthouse opens

nine hours from now someone's gonna be callin in the vehicle

number off the inspection plate on my truck. And around nine-

thirty they'll show up here.

CARLA JEAN:

So... for how long do we have to...

MOSS:

Baby, at what point would you quit

botherin' to look for your two million

dollars?

Carla Jean stares, thinking.

CARLA JEAN:

What'm I supposed to tell Mama?

MOSS:

Try standin' in the door and hollerin:

Mama I'm home.

CARLA JEAN:

Llewelyn --

MOSS:

C'mon, pack your things. Anything

you leave you ain't gonna see again.

Carla Jean begins peevishly tossing things into a bag:

CARLA JEAN:

Well thanks for fallin' all over and

apologizing.

MOSS:

Things happened. I can't take 'em

back.

EXT. CATTLEGUARD ROAD - NIGHT

POINT-OF-VIEW THROUGH WINDSHIELD

It is night. No other vehicles on this paved road.

Our car turns off and rattles over a cattleguard.

Parked on the other side is a Ramcharger. Its passenger door

starts to open.

Outside:
Chigurh emerges from his Ford.

The man emerging from the truck wears a Western-cut suit.

MAN:

Mind ridin' b*tch?

EXT. BASIN - NIGHT

THE RAMCHARGER:

Bouncing through ungraded terrain.

It stops and discharges the three men-the driver and his

partner, both in suits, from either side, and then Chigurh

from the middle seat.

They have pulled over at Moss's truck.

CHIGURH:

This his truck?

He is opening the door and looking at the plate riveted

inside.

MAN:

Mm-hm.

CHIGURH:

Screwgie.

The man reaches into a pocket and hands over a screwdriver.

As Chigurh works it under the plate:

CHIGURH:

...Who slashed his tires?

DRIVER:

Wudden us.

EXT. BASIN - NIGHT

A flashlight beam picks out the dog carcass.

DRIVER:

That's a dead dog.

CHIGURH:

Thank you.

Chigurh plays the flashlight around the scene. Dead bodies

on the ground.

CHIGURH:

...Where's the transponder?

MAN:

In the truck. I'll get it.

DRIVER:

These are some ripe petunias.

Chigurh gives his flashlight to the driver.

CHIGURH:

Hold this please.

He bends down and takes a 9 mm. Glock off of one of the dead

bodies and checks the clip. The other man is returning from

the truck. He hands Chigurh a small electronic receiver.

CHIGURH:

...You getting anything on this?

MAN:

Not a bleep.

CHIGURH:

All right...

Chigurh stands and holds his hand out for his flashlight.

The driver hands it to him. Chigurh shines it in his face

and shoots him through the forehead. As the man falls Chigurh

pans the light to the other man who has watched his partner

drop. He looks up, puzzled, and is shot as well.

EXT. BELL'S RANCH - MORNING

A horse trailer is backed up to a small stable with its gate

down.

Sheriff Bell, sixties, in uniform, slaps a horse on the ass

and gives it a "Hyah!" to send it clattering up the ramp and

into the trailer.

His wife, Loretta, appears. She wears a heavy robe and holds

a coffee mug.

LORETTA:

I thought it was a car afire.

BELL:

It is a car afire. But Wendell said

there was something back country

too.

LORETTA:

When is the county gonna start payin'

a rental on my horse.

BELL:

Hyah!

He is sending a second horse up into the trailer.

BELL:

...I love you more'n more, ever day.

LORETTA:

(unmoved)

That's very nice.

Sheriff Bell puts up the gate and pins it. She watches.

LORETTA:

...Be careful.

BELL:

I always am.

LORETTA:

Don't get hurt.

BELL:

I never do.

LORETTA:

Don't hurt no one.

BELL:

Well. If you say so.

EXT. CATTLEGUARD ROAD - DAY

The pickup with horse trailer rattles up next to a parked

squad car. Just beyond the cattle guard the Ford sedan is

blazing. Sheriff Bell gets out of the truck and joins his

deputy, Wendell, looking at the car. After a beat of staring:

BELL:

You wouldn't think a car would burn

like that.

WENDELL:

Yessir. We should a brought wieners.

Sheriff Bell takes his hat off and mops his brow.

BELL:

Does that look to you like about a

'77 Ford, Wendell?

WENDELL:

It could be.

BELL:

I'd say it is. Not a doubt in my

mind.

WENDELL:

The old boy shot by the highway?

BELL:

Yessir, his vehicle. Man killed

Lamar's deputy, took his car, killed

someone on the highway, swapped for

his car, and now here it is and he's

swapped again for god knows what.

WENDELL:

That's very linear Sheriff.

Bell stares at the fire.

BELL:

Well. Old age flattens a man.

WENDELL:

Yessir. But then there's this other.

He nods up the ridge away from the

highway.

BELL:

Uh-huh.

He walks back toward the trailer.

BELL:

...You ride Winston.

WENDELL:

You sure?

BELL:

Oh, I'm more than sure. Anything

happens to Loretta's horse I can

tell you right now you don't wanna

be the party that was aboard.

EXT. BASIN - DAY

The two men on horseback pick their way through the scrub

approaching Moss's truck. Sheriff Bell is studying the ground.

BELL:

It's the same tire tread comin back

as goin'. Made about the same time.

You can see the sipes real clear.

Wendell is standing in the stirrups, looking up the ridge.

WENDELL:

Truck's just yonder. Somebodies pried

the inspection plate off the door.

Bell looks up, circling the truck.

BELL:

I know this truck. Belongs to a feller

named Moss.

WENDELL:

Llewelyn Moss?

BELL:

That's the boy.

WENDELL:

You figure him for a dope runner?

Bell sits his horse looking at the slashed tires.

BELL:

I don't know but I kindly doubt it.

BASIN - DAY

BY THE BODIES:

The two lawmen are dismounting.

WENDELL:

Hell's bells, they even shot the

dog.

They walk towards the near truck.

WENDELL:

...Well this is just a deal gone

wrong.

Sheriff Bell stoops to look at casings.

BELL:

Yes, appears to have been a glitch

or two.

WENDELL:

What calibers you got there, Sheriff?

BELL:

Nine millimeter. Couple of .45 ACP's.

He stands, looking at the truck.

BELL:

...Somebody unloaded on this thing

with a shotgun.

WENDELL:

Mm.

Bell opens the door of the truck. Looks at the dead driver.

WENDELL:

...How come do you reckon the coyotes

ain't been at 'em?

BELL:

I don't know...

He shuts the door softly with two hands.

BELL:

...Supposedly they won't eat a

Mexican.

Wendell is looking at the two corpses close together, wearing

suits.

WENDELL:

These boys appear to be managerial.

Bell walks back toward the bed of the truck as Wendell

appraises:

WENDELL:

...I think we're lookin' at more'n

one fracas.

A gesture toward the scattered bodies.

WENDELL:

...Wild West over there...

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