Unforgiven Page #10

VIEW on the empty sky. There isn't any hawk.

VIEW on Munny who is right beside them is looking up and he

doesn't see any hawk and he looks at Ned like he thought Ned

was crazy and he frowns.

The Kid just looks up and squints and looks ahead at the

trail and keeps riding.

THE KID:

Hell, I could hit it too if I didn't

mind wasting a shot.

And Munny looks up again, amazed, because they must be crazy,

both of them.

And Ned reins his horse hard.

NED:

There ain't no hawk up there, Kid.

And the Kid reins and turns and he locks eyes with Ned. He

knows he's been found out.

NED:

Can't see worth a sh*t, can you?

The Kid is furious, his eyes flick around and he spots

something and he pulls out the Schofield.

THE KID:

See them f***ing turtles?

VIEW ON THREE TURTLES

Making their way up the stream bed ten yards away.

VIEW ON THE KID:

His Schofield spitting fire and smoke BLAM, BLAM.

VIEW ON THE TURTLE

BLAM, the third turtle exploding and following the other two

to oblivion.

VIEW ON THE MEN:

MUNNY:

(impressed)

Sh*t.

NED:

(impressed but holding

back)

How far kin you see?

THE KID:

Far enough.

NED:

We ain't goin' to Nebraska on no

turtle hunt. A hundred yards?

THE KID:

More.

NED:

(testing)

See that scrub oak yonder?

THE KID:

(furious)

F*** you.

NED:

(to Munny)

He's blind, for Chri...

THE KID:

(pointing his pistol

at Ned)

I ain't blind, you a**hole.

MUNNY:

Now hold on, boys, hold on. Now,

Kid, you kin see fifty yards, can't

you?

THE KID:

Bet your ass I kin see fifty yards

an' I kin shoot this sonofabitch...

MUNNY:

Easy, Kid, easy.

(looking Ned in the

eye)

Now, you hear that, Ned? The Kid can

see fifty yards fine, hear?

NED:

(under his breath)

Jesus.

MUNNY:

Fifty yards ain't bad.

(glancing at the

horizon)

Guess we better get along.

EXT. SKY - DAY

STORM CLOUDS building behind them on the horizon.

INT. COUNTY OFFICE - NIGHT

CLOSE ON A BOOK:

The lurid cover, "The Duke of Death" by W. W. Beauchamp.

Little Bill is looking at the cover, his feet propped on his

desk in the county office. It is night and the office is lit

with an oil lamp.

LITTLE BILL:

(referring to the

book)

Them boys look like real hard cases.

Did you kill all seven of 'em dead,

Bob... or did you just wing some of

'em?

English Bob is lying on his back on a cot in the little cell

a few feet away. He turns his head toward Little Bill and

his swollen face is horrible to behold. Of course, he doesn't

answer except with the nasty eye.

LITTLE BILL:

That is you there, ain't it, Bob?

The Duck of Death?

WW:

(daring)

Uh... Duke.

WW is in the little cell next to English Bob's.

LITTLE BILL:

Oh yeah... Duke. Well, Bob, you always

was hell an' Jesus with a pistol...

but seven of 'em, an' you protectin'

the lady too... How'd you do it?

English Bob just turns his malignant stare away but WW screws

up his courage and asserts himself... sort of.

WW:

Uh... It's... uh... generally

considered desirable in the publishing

business to... ah... take certain

license in depicting the cover

scene... for... ah... purposes

involving the... ah, market place.

LITTLE BILL:

Well, Mister Beauchamp... from what

I read of this here book, I'd have

to say the writin' ain't a whole lot

different from the pitcher.

WW:

(sweating, but with

dignity)

Uh... I can assure you, Mister

Daggett... the events described within

are based... on the accounts of eye

witnesses and...

LITTLE BILL:

(opening the book)

Meaning the duck himself, I guess.

WW:

Duke.

LITTLE BILL:

(harshly)

Duck, I says.

(reading badly)

"You have insulted the honor of this

beautiful woman, Corcoran," said the

duck. "You must apologize." But Two

Gun Corcoran would have none of it

and, cursing, he reached for his

pistols and would have killed them

but The Duck was faster and hot lead

blazed from his smoking sixguns."

(he tosses the book

on the desk, disgusted)

WW:

(with dignity)

I believe that to be an accurate

description of the events, sir...

albeit there is a certain poetry to

the language which...

LITTLE BILL:

(standing up)

Well, Mister Beauchamp, I was at the

Blue Bottle Saloon in Wichita the

night English Bob killed Corky

Corcoran... an' I didn't see you

there... nor no woman, nor no twogun

shooters nor nothin' like that.

WW:

(amazed)

You were there?

WW looks to English Bob for confirmation but Bob's stare

just gets nastier.

Little Bill is warming to the subject though, standing in

front of the cell.

LITTLE BILL:

First off... Corky didn't carry two

pistols, though he should of.

WW:

But he was called...

LITTLE BILL:

Some folks did call Old Corky "Two

Gun" but not because he was sportin'

two pistols but because he had a

dick so big it was longer than the

barrel on that Walker Colt he carried.

An' the only insultin' he done was

stickin' that big dick of his in

some French Lady that Old Bob was

sweet on... Well, one day Corky walked

into the Blue Bottle and before he

knows what's happening Bob takes a

shot at him... and misses on account

of he's drunker than hell.

WW is fascinated and he looks to Bob and BOB'S eye is blazing

and he looks back at Little Bill who is beginning to act out

the scene.

LITTLE BILL:

Well, that bullet whizzin' by panicked

Corky, an' he done the wrong thing!

Pulled his gun in such a damn hurry

he shot off his own toe. Meantime,

Bob aims good and squeezes off

another... but he's so drunk he misses

again an' hits the thousand dollar

mirror behind the bar. Well, now the

Duck of Death is good as dead 'cause

this time Corky does right an' aims

real good, no hurry...

WW:

(beside himself)

And?

LITTLE BILL:

Bam! That Walker Colt blew up in his

hand... which was a failing common

to that model. Now if Corky would

have really had two guns instead of

just a big dick he could have defended

himself to the end.

WW:

You... you mean...

(looking at Bob)

English Bob killed him while...?

LITTLE BILL:

Well he wasn't gonna wait for Corky

to grow no new hand. He walked over

real close, bein' drunk, an' shot

him through the liver.

WW stares first at English Bob and then at Little Bill,

appalled.

EXT. WOODS - NIGHT

Night in the woods and Ned fussing around with his blankets

not far from the campfire.

NED:

(irritably)

No sir, I did not give up robbin'

an' stealin' on account of I got

religion. I give it up 'cause I got

too old for all this here nature.

Munny is lying in his blankets a few feet away, exhausted

and dirty and not a bit interested in Ned's complaints.

NED:

I give it up 'cause I hate sleepin'

out in the air... f***in' sticks in

my food... an' f***in' bugs in my

food... an' f***in' rocks under my

back...

(crawling into the

blankets)

Sh*t, I sure do miss my f***in' bed.

MUNNY:

(irritably)

Yeah... you said that last night.

NED:

Last night I said I missed my f***in'

wife... tonight I just miss my f***in'

bed.

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