Silverado Page #6

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INT. SALOON/HOTEL - DAY

The newcomer is a lithe, strong, black man -- MAL. He has no

other weapon besides the rifle. Mal looks around the room

and walks wearily to the registration desk, although there

is no one behind it. He RINGS a bell for service.

At the sound of the bell several of the patrons look up and

spot Mal for the first time. The three Tough Men are instantly

displeased at the sight of the black man. Paden, returning

to his meal, notes their attitude and glances over at Mal.

Mal leaves his saddlebags at the registration desk, but takes

the rifle as he walks across to the bar. The nervous Waitress

is working there. The sight of Mal only adds to her agitation.

WAITRESS:

(cold)

What do you want?

MAL:

(friendly, tired)

I haven't had a drink of whiskey or

slept in a bed for ten days. Give me

a bottle.

The Waitress hesitates, uncertain. She places a shot glass

and a bottle on the bar beyond an elaborate, brass, nude

statuette whose upraised arms hold dishes full of hard-boiled

eggs. Mal has leaned his rifle against the bar and must now

move a few steps to stand before the whiskey.

The three Tough Men exchange looks as Mal uncorks the bottle

and slowly, lovingly fills his shot glass. He puts the bottle

down and regards the glass for a long moment of pleasant

anticipation. Mal's hand has started for the glass when the

saloon's PROPRIETOR appears from a back room.

PROPRIETOR:

(sharply)

Hey! What are you doing, buck?

Mal draws his hand back and straightens slightly. A different

kind of weariness comes into his face.

MAL:

Having a drink.

PROPRIETOR:

No, you're not. Get out of here.

The Proprietor shoots the Waitress a withering look; she

shrugs helplessly and hurries away. At the tables two of the

three Tough Men quietly rise and separate, moving toward the

two ends of the bar. Emmett and Paden watch.

MAL:

(flat)

I haven't had a drink of whiskey or

slept in a bed for ten days.

PROPRIETOR:

You ain't getting them here.

MAL:

(gravely)

I'm real sorry to hear that.

At this, the First Man steps forward quickly, snatches Mal's

rifle, and slides it down the bar. Mal looks across the

distance at his only weapon.

PADEN:

(quietly, to Emmett)

Doesn't look quite fair.

EMMETT:

(watching carefully)

Which way do you mean?

The Second Man lurches up to the bar and pins Mal's arms

behind him. The First Man moves quickly, cocking back his

arm for a punch square in Mal's face. As the blow is

unleashed, Mal bends forward with terrific speed and force,

pulling the Second Man onto his back. The Second Man's face

is suddenly where Mal's was an instant ago, and the First

Man's punch lands hard on it. Mal slams the Second Man's

back against the edge of the bar; he falls to the floor. Mal

blocks a blow from the First Man and steps in with a flurry

of body blows.

Back at the Tough Men's table, the Third Man pushes back his

chair as if to rise. Emmett has just picked up a chicken

leg; now he waves it ever so slightly at the Third Man: "Stay

out of it". The Man looks at Emmett and Paden, then settles

back into his seat.

Mal sends the First Man crashing down through a table with a

final blow. He turns in time to see the Second Man, back on

his feet, grab Mal's whiskey bottle and break it against the

bar. Mal looks for a frustrated moment at the splashing

whiskey -- what a waste. The Second Man lunges with the sharp

glass. Mal lifts the heavy statuette easily with one hand

and uses its upraised arms to catch the Man's wrist and twist

the bottle painfully from his grasp. Mal's other hand hits

the Man once in the throat, and he is down.

The Proprietor rises from behind the bar, a sawed-off shotgun

in his hand. Mal spins, swinging the statuette brutally

against the Proprietor's arm. The shotgun clatters to the

floor as the Proprietor recoils in pain, crashing into a

shelf of glasses. The fight is over.

Suddenly, standing in the doorway holding a leveled gun is

an enormously tall figure -- SHERIFF LANGSTON. Dressed rather

elegantly in suit and bowler, he dwarfs the man at his side,

DEPUTY KERN. He surveys the scene as the three injured men

stir back to life. When he speaks, it is, surprisingly, with

a British accent --

LANGSTON:

What's all this then?

PROPRIETOR:

This n*gger's breaking up my place,

Sheriff Langston.

LANGSTON:

I don't like that word much, Carter.

PROPRIETOR:

We don't serve them here and you

know it. I asked him to leave and he

went crazy on us. He owes me money

for this damage.

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