Unforgiven Page #11

Lightning flashes and a horse whinnies and then the thunder

cracks and rolls.

MUNNY:

Well, I guess you're gonna miss your

f***in' roof soon enough.

EXT. BY THE HORSES - NIGHT

The horses, shying and skittish, and The Kid is rubbing his

face tenderly on the Morgan and whispering in a soothing

voice.

EXT. CAMP - NIGHT

Munny and Ned lying near the campfire and The Kid walks up

and starts to fix his blankets.

He looks at Munny thoughtfully. Something's bothering him,

and finally he blurts it out as he climbs into his own

blankets.

THE KID:

Say, Bill. That business in Jackson

County... did that really happen? I

mean how they say it happened?

MUNNY:

What business?

THE KID:

(a frown, a pause,

then...)

An' how there was two deputies up

close pointin' rifles at you... had

you dead to rights... an' how you

pulled out a pistol an' blew them

both away to hell... an' only took a

scratch yourself.

(pause)

Uncle Pete told me he never seen

nothin' like it, shootin' your way

out of a scrape like that.

MUNNY:

(uncomfortable)

Well... I don't recollect.

THE KID:

(amazed and dubious)

You don't recollect!

The Kid doesn't know whether he's been rebuffed or what, but

seeing after a moment that his conversation with Munny is

not getting anywhere he decides to have a try at Ned.

THE KID:

Say, Ned... ?

NED:

(curt)

Yeah.

THE KID:

How many men you killed?

(after a long pause)

Ain't you gonna answer?

NED:

I don't like the question.

THE KID:

(indignant)

Well, I gotta know what kind of fellas

I'm ridin' with, don't I? In case of

a scrape.

NED:

How many you killed, Kid?

THE KID:

Five. I killed five of 'em.

(pause)

That counts a Mexican I killed.

(pause)

He come at me with a knife.

There is a long pause and then a flash of lightning and a

roll of thunder and the nervous whinnies of the horses.

MUNNY:

Get some sleep, Kid.

THE KID:

You boys are crotchety as a couple

of hens.

Just then the rain starts and it sizzles in the campfire and

the horses snort and Ned covers his head with his blankets.

NED:

Aw sh*t!

INT. COUNTY OFFICE - NIGHT

WW:

Actually, then, Mister Corcoran was

faster on the draw than the D...

English Bob?

WW is sitting at Little Bill's desk writing furiously with a

quill pen. It is still night and Little Bill is lounging in

a chair and English Bob is moaning and snoring in the cell.

LITTLE BILL:

Faster? Fast was his mistake. If he

hadn't of been in such a goddamn

hurry he would not have shot off his

toe with his first shot and he would

have killed old Bob.

(lecturing)

See, son, bein' a good shot an' bein'

quick with a pistol... that don't do

no harm... but it ain't much next to

bein' cool.

Little Bill pulls out his pistol very deliberately... not

slowly, but not like a Hollywood fast draw.

LITTLE BILL:

A man who will keep his head an' not

get rattled under fire... he will

kill you like as not.

Little Bill is pointing his pistol, aiming.

WW:

But if the other fellow is quicker

and fires first...

LITTLE BILL:

He will be hurryin' and he will miss.

That there is as fast as I can pull

an' aim an' hit anythin' more'n ten

feet away... unless it's a barn.

WW:

But... if he doesn't miss?

LITTLE BILL:

(laughing and

holstering his pistol)

Then he will kill you. That is why

there are so few dangerous men like

old Bob there... an' like me. It

ain't so easy to shoot a man anyhow...

an' if the sonofabitch is shootin'

back at you... well, it'll unnerve

most fellas.

(struck with an idea)

Look here, let me show you somethin'.

(he reaches into a

drawer in the desk

and pulls out a pistol)

See this here pistol?

WW looks at the pistol uneasily and over in the cell English

Bob's one eye opens and he moves his head slightly because

he senses something is happening.

Little Bill holds the pistols out to WW.

LITTLE BILL:

Take it.

(WW hesitates)

Go on, take a hold.

Nervously WW accepts the gun as though it were hot. Little

Bill pulls some keys out of a drawer and tosses them on the

desk.

LITTLE BILL:

Them's the keys. All you gotta do is

shoot me an' you an' English Bob can

ride out free as birds.

WW:

(shaking)

Is... is it... loaded?

LITTLE BILL:

Wouldn't be no good if it wasn't.

You got to cock it though.

WW looks nervously over at English Bob and Bob's eye says

"Do it, do it, do it."

WW gulps and he pulls back the hammer and stands up and looks

at Bob again and Bob is nodding "Yes, yes, do it."

LITTLE BILL:

An' you got to point it.

(pause)

Go on, point it.

Slowly, with trembling hand WW raises the gun and points it

at Little Bill who looks calmly back at him.

LITTLE BILL:

All you gotta do is pull on the

trigger, mister.

WW gulps and sweat comes off his forehead and he points the

shaking gun and Bob nods "Yes" and WW bites his lip and

then...

WW lowers the gun slowly. He can't do it. He wipes his

forehead.

LITTLE BILL:

Hot, ain't it?

(reaching for the gun)

You never even put your finger on

the trigger.

Little Bill is reaching for the pistol but WW has a

frightening idea and instead of giving up the pistol he steps

backward toward the cell.

WW:

What if... what if I gave it to...

him.

(and he indicates Bob)

Little Bill's eyes narrow like slits and tension fills the

air.

LITTLE BILL:

Go ahead... give it to him.

English Bob's eye lights up in anticipation and he tries to

get up on one elbow.

WW:

(gulping)

R-r-r-really? You r-r-really w-

wwant...?

LITTLE BILL:

(like ice)

Give it to him.

English Bob is sitting up and reaching for the gun and his

eye is on Little Bill and WW reaches out with a shaking hand

and ENGLISH BOB'S hand just touches the gun and...

Little Bill drops his right hand to his own gun and grips

the butt and...

ENGLISH BOB hesitates, his gaze locked with LITTLE BILL'S

and the two men eye each other. Then, furious, ENGLISH BOB

withdraws his hand... empty.

LITTLE BILL:

(grinning)

Guess he don't want it, Mister

Beauchamp.

Little Bill accepts the pistol from the trembling WW and,

looking straight into ENGLISH BOB'S angry eye, LITTLE BILL

ejects five cartridges from the chambers of the pistol.

LITTLE BILL:

You was right not to take it, Bob. I

would of killed you.

WW collapses into a chair and wipes sweat from his brow.

LITTLE BILL'S VOICE (O.S.)

We could use some rain, eh, Mister

Beauchamp?

EXT. CAMP - DAY

BARRRRROOM! THUNDER, LIGHTNING, RAIN IN SHEETS and the Albino

mare rearing and screaming and Munny landing in the mud.

MUNNY:

You f***ing no-good goddamn shitfaced

pig f***ing dirty whore.

It is daylight but the rain is so thick you can't see more

than five feet and Munny crawls up out of the mud wearing a

slicker and looking like hell, already full of remorse for

his outburst.

Ned rides up out of the rain leading Munny's horse and Munny

tries to mount again.

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