The Searchers Page #13

MARTIN:

(miserably)

I can't help it, Laurie...I

just gotta catch up with Ethan...

He runs out and she slams the door, then rests her head

against it.

113-AINT. JORGENSEN KEEPING ROOM - FULL SHOT - EARLY MORNING

Mrs. Jorgensen quietly enters the room and sees Laurie with

head pressed against the door. She wants to offer some

word of sympathy, but doesn't know what to say. She

crosses to the stove to pour herself a cup of coffee. Then

we hear the drum of horses' hooves, the sound of Martin

riding away. Laurie flings open the door, almost as though

to call him back.

113-BEXT. PLAINS COUNTRY AND LAKE BEFORE JORGENSEN HOUSE -

EARLY MORNING:

ANGLING from behind Laurie in the doorway as Martin, riding

one horse, leading another, goes galloping away.

114EXT. FUTTERMAN'S TRADING POST - WIDE ANGLE - DAY

A low, squat adobe structure, with a crudely lettered sign-

board proclaiming it:

'JEREM. FUTTERMAN, TRADER'

There are adjacent outbuildings and corral. Four horses

are tied outside, two being pack animals. A surly-looking

white man or breed sits in a stool tilted back near the

door, whittling with a long-bladed knife, eyeing the horses

covetously. He glances aside and glares as a squaw

shuffles along bearing a clumsy load of faggots on her

bowed back.

MAN:

Andale! Andale!

Fearfully she quickens her step. The man gets up, shoves

knife into belt and heads into the post.

115INT. FUTTERMAN'S TRADING POST - FULL SHOT - DAY

It is a grimy establishment with some dusty trade goods on

shelves; a counter which serves as a bar; a few plank

tables and benches.

The breed seen outside enters and crosses to a side table

where another mean-looking hombre sits preparing to play

a game of solitaire with a deck of limp cards.

Ethan and Martin are at a table in the center of the room,

examining a dirty, rumpled child's dress -- Debbie's.

Martin nods soberly in answer to Ethan's inquiring look;

yes, it's hers. Both look up as FUTTERMAN crosses from

the bar, carrying a whisky jug and two dirty glasses --

his fingers thrust inside the glasses. Futterman is a

squaw man and a killer -- dead eyes in a white face.

FUTTERMAN:

Drink?

He sets the jug down, picks up one of the glasses -- so

grey and thumb-printed it is almost opaque. Both Ethan

and Martin regard it with disgust. Futterman gives a

slight shrug, takes the dress and starts to wipe the

dirty glass with it. Martin snatches it out of his hand.

ETHAN:

(harshly)

How'd you come by this?

FUTTERMAN:

You said there'd be a thousand

dollar reward.

ETHAN:

That's what I said.

FUTTERMAN:

You got it with you?

Ethan looks at him and beyond toward the two men.

116INT. FUTTERMAN'S - CLOSE SHOT - THE TWO PLUG-UGLIES

The solitaire player has a card in mid-air -- frozen,

watching. The other man has the same buzzard-watchful

look.

117INT. FUTTERMAN'S - FULL SHOT - THE GROUP AS BEFORE

ETHAN:

Reward'll be paid when I find

her -- an' if she's alive...

Futterman uncorks the jug, prepares to drink.

FUTTERMAN:

Man's got a right to expect some

kind o' payment...I laid out for

the dress an' sendin' you the

writin'...

He tilts the jug to his mouth as Ethan reaches for his

heavy leather pouch. Futterman watches greedily as Ethan

lets a gold piece slide out. He tosses it onto the table.

ETHAN:

Twenty Yankee dollars.

Futterman puts the jug down. His hand inches -- as though

pulled by a magnet -- toward the gold piece.

FUTTERMAN:

...an' a man's time is worth

somethin'...

Ethan's big hand clamps over Futterman's and he starts

squeezing as a man would squeeze a lemon. Futterman's lips

whiten.

ETHAN:

Talk!

FUTTERMAN:

A young buck fetched it in late

last summer...

(Ethan eases the grip)

Said it belonged to a captive chile

of Chief Scar...

ETHAN:

Scar? Never heard of any Chief Scar.

FUTTERMAN:

Me neither...But this buck claimed he

was a big war chief with the Nawyecky

Comanches.

ETHAN:

Keep talking.

FUTTERMAN:

Scar's band was headin' north...to

winter in at Fort Wingate...eatin'

agency beef. That's what this buck

said...Maybe he lied.

ETHAN:

And maybe you lie...

FUTTERMAN:

In that case you won't find her --

and I won't get my thousand dollars.

Ethan stands. Martin follows. Martin takes the dress and

folds it carefully.

FUTTERMAN:

(too casually)

Stay the night if you want...

(Ethan shakes his head)

Cards?...A jug?...If you'd like

some company, we got a few squaws

on the place...

Ethan and Martin head for the door.

ETHAN:

No thanks.

The two plug-uglies stand -- mean ready to do their master's

bidding.

FUTTERMAN:

Don't forget to come back with

my thousand dollars.

ETHAN:

Ain't yours yet.

They leave. The CAMERA holds on Futterman as he slowly

rubs his bruised hand. His henchmen drift toward him.

FUTTERMAN:

(slight smile)

Bad manners...He shoulda said 'good-bye.'

DISSOLVE TO:

118EXT. HILLY COUNTRY - MED. SHOT - ETHAN - NIGHT

They have set up camp near a cluster of cottonwoods to

which the horses have been tied. One of the horses is

restless, possibly nickering. Ethan strokes its neck,

looking out thoughtfully into the night -- listening.

MARTIN'S VOICE

Acts like somethin's out there.

ETHAN:

(heading toward

campfire)

Smells a change in the weather...

CAMERA PANS him to where Martin is spreading his blanket

some little distance from the small fire.

ETHAN:

Wouldn't surprise me if we didn't

have a frost 'fore mornin'...Here...

(he picks up a

saddle and puts

it close to fire)

Whyn't you bed down closer to the

fire, boy?

Martin is a bit surprised as Ethan takes the blanket and

spreads it near the saddle -- making the saddle serve as a

pillow. Then Ethan tosses a few more heavy pieces of dry

wood on the fire, making it blaze up.

MARTIN:

Hey! What's the idea...?

ETHAN:

Maybe I'm gettin' like Mose Harper

-- my bones is cold tonight...

He spreads his own blanket as Martin wraps into his bedroll,

and when Martin turns, he casually arranges the blanket to

suggest it is over the figure of a man. During this:

MARTIN:

Funny...When we passed through

Fort Wingate last winter, we didn't

hear mention of any Nawyecky Comanche

there...

Ethan steps back -- and studies the "dummy."

ETHAN:

Not so funny...if you recollect what

'Nawyecka' means...

MARTIN:

What's that?

Ethan studies Martin's back -- the light on him -- and looks

around figuring the range of fire.

ETHAN:

Sorta like 'roundabout' -- like a

man says he's goin' one place when

he means to go just the reverse...

MARTIN:

(drowsily)

Oh...

ETHAN:

You all settled an' comfortable now?

Martin just grunts and snugs deeper into his blanket. Ethan

nods his satisfaction -- sure Martin isn't going to change

positions. Then he takes off his hat and boots and uses them

to complete the dummy. He picks up his rifle then and

quietly walks out of the camp.

CUT TO:

119EXT. HILLY COUNTRY - A RAVINE OR ARROYO - FULL SHOT - THREE

MEN - NIGHT

Three shadowy figures -- Futterman and his two henchmen --

are quietly dismounting, taking rifles from saddle scabbards.

At a hand signal from Futterman, they quietly fan out

afoot.

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