The Scalphunters Page #3

I wonder what he's after.

Mighty fine, boy.

Sego lily, Mr Howie. Just like an onion.

Finest thing you ever saw.

- What the hell are you after?

- After, Mr Howie? After?

He just likes to serve quality folk.

Quality folk!

Coddamn.

I don't wanna hear

that mushmouth, honey.

I got a rope burn on my neck where they

tried to hang me one time in Sacramento.

And the first time I met you

was in Ma Hogan's tent, remember?

And you weren't exactly sewing canvas.

- You hush your mouth now, Howie.

- Quality folk!

And I never worked no tent.

Dammit, can't you say

I'm pretty or somethin'?

You're the prettiest woman that ever

wore garters and crossed her legs.

Howie, stop chewing that tobacco.

Come on, honey. Let's dance.

You look mighty elegant, Miss Kate.

Bailemos, compadre.

Come on, Joseph Lee. Fight him.

- Co on, boy. Let's see you fight.

- Punch him again.

Come on, boy.

You can fight him, boy.

Move in on him. Bust him one.

Come on, boy.

Look out, Yuma, he'll hurt you!

Come on, Julius Caesar. Fight him.

- Cet up, boy.

- Hit him again. Hit him!

The old daddy wolf does the cutting here.

You don't wanna damage

our $1500 property.

You go soak your head, boy.

Cimme back my feathers.

Crab your partner!

Julius Caesar, you're a hell of

a dancing man, but you sure can't fight.

See that guard over there by the horses?

Co over there and give him

some of that fancy talk.

I'll sneak up and bust him one.

Then we'll load up my furs and get out.

The both of us.

Damn you, Lee, aren't you listening?

- I'm not sure if I am or not, Mr Bass.

- What?

I like you, Mr Bass.

You treated me decent.

And you're a religious man.

Know all about Ham, the black man

in the Bible. Adam and Eve.

- What the hell are you talking about?

- These people are going to Mexico.

You mean... you mean you're

going to stay with these heathens?

Well, you see, Mr Bass...

Mr Bass, you'd better consult Mr Howie.

He owns me now.

- Why, damn your black hide, I traded...

- Shh!

Oh, Mr Bass. Well, then, you'll understand.

A slave has no choice of masters.

Just goes to the highest bidder.

Mr Howie's bidding Mexico.

Fine country, Mexico. I think I'll like it.

No slavery there.

I oughta kill you...

I'll show him.

That damned ungrateful black Comanche.

You stay here and be quiet.

And stop eating that tree.

Unless you're gonna double-cross me too.

Co get Yancy some food.

All right, I've got you.

Easy does it. There you go.

Whoa, boy.

Easy, boy. Easy.

Shh!

Hey, Yan...

Hey, Yancy!

Howie!

Howie!

Come on, jughead.

This is no time to quit on me.

- All right, what was it?

- A renegade Apache.

Joe Bass, you socialise with these people,

you're gonna get yourself scalped...

Miss Kate.

The night air's chill.

You need a wrap.

? In our lovely Deseret

? Where the saints of Cod have met

? Tea and coffee and tobacco we despise

? We've no liquor, yet we eat

? Just a very little meat

? We are seeking to be

great and good and wise

- ? We should not forget to pray

- Please, Kate.

- ? Night and morning every day

- Will you stop singing Mormon songs?

Cet out of that bed, you lazy bum.

It's Sunday morning.

? And we always be polite

? And treat everybody right

Now, Kate, you ain't even a Mormon.

So will you shut up?

? Hark, hark, hark, 'tis angels' voices

Anything funny?

Cet me some water, boy.

Yes, sir.

Don't reach for nothing, mister.

Walk up here, mister,

or I'll kill you where you stand.

Easy.

I knew it. It's the law.

No, ma'am.

I mean, I hope not, Miss Kate.

That's close enough. Take your hat off.

Now reach up and scratch your ear.

"Scratch your...?"

You want to keep that ear, turn that

packhorse loose and get on your way.

- Them beaver skins is mine.

- Yours?

I risked my life for them pelts.

I fought me a dozen Kiowas.

You slaughtered 'em,

you scalphunting bastard.

Now, hold on.

That's no cause to dry-gulch a man.

Steal his furs. Wreck his water barrel.

You know, that ain't fair.

Cut loose that packhorse!

I ain't gonna kill you, but I ought to.

Now go on back there and keep moving.

Walk!

You crook!

Let's get outta here!

That bushwhacking half-breed.

We'll give him his furs back.

Dead. Let's move it out.

Frank!

Cet Yuma and flank that half-breed.

Hold it here.

Keep that first wagon moving.

Oh, Mr Bass. Those furs aren't worth it.

- What did you say, boy?

- Nothing, Mr Howie. Nothing.

Hey, bushwhacker.

Set your gun down.

- Howie, we gotta...

- Will you shut up, Kate?

Looking for me, scalphunter?

Lay that gun down.

Damn. Frank's got him!

There he is! Come on, get him.

Renegade Apache.

Renegade Apache, my ass!

Hey, Howie!

Jim!

Clear them rocks away.

Hey, mister!

Cut loose that packhorse and furs.

Move that wagon or I'll roll

half this mountain down on you.

Whoa! Hold on, friend.

You've got me.

Kate, get off that wagon.

- Howie, be careful.

- Now, you, Kate, hush up.

All right, move that wagon on down.

All right. Hold on, we're going.

OK, boy. Cimme a hand.

Mount your horses.

Cet in that wagon. Cit.

- Virgo's passed Jupiter in the third phase.

- What?

Sagittarius and Cassiopeia

are in the ascendancy.

That's right. How'd you know that?

Miss Kate, when is Mr Howie's birthday?

He's a Leo. July 27th.

July 27th. I was afraid of that.

You sure Virgo is passing Jupiter?

Mr Howie is a strong, powerful man.

A Leo. A natural leader, right?

Did you know that Napoleon Bonaparte

was a Leo too, Miss Kate?

The same birthday as Mr Howie.

And when he met Waterloo...

Destroyed. Virgo had passed Jupiter

in the third phase.

That's gonna happen now.

Did you really study

all about reading the stars?

Well, as far back as

the, um, Egyptian Pharaohs.

And the Hebrew prophets. Down through

Persia, Babylon and Mesopotamia.

Shalom, abi gezunt, aleph, beth, gimel.

Tell me, how's it gonna be for Virgo?

I'm a Virgo.

Pythagoras.

I see a cloud. A threatening cloud.

Travelling. Travelling.

- Miss Kate, I hate to tell you this...

- Tell me, tell me.

Something evil following us.

Has been following us for days.

Something covered with, um... hair.

The Indian scalps.

That packhorse with those damn fur pelts.

Right! An evil combination.

The spirit of the dead Kiowas...

and the zodiac configuration of the stars.

What do you mean?

Look.

Jupiter moving in on Pluto.

Disaster. Death. A man killed.

- Mr Howie.

- Jim?

Listen, I've read the stars.

I didn't see all that happening.

- But where did you look?

- Right here. Page...

Oh, Miss Kate!

I mean here. Pisces, Libra, Capricorn.

And here. Those furs...

and that man out there...

are the Scorpio satanic configuration

of death for Jim Howie.

And the stars never lie.

But Howie don't believe in all...

He don't believe in anything.

But we do.

And we know it's true.

Don't we?

Then it's up to us.

You.

Me? How?

Cut loose that packhorse.

Cet rid of those evil furs.

Tonight.

I'll do it.

Damn, that's good and vile.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes