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As Words Grow Wings (WIP)
by Ronnie Maszk

Rated: R   Genre: Westerns   User Review:
NOT YET
RATED

After his father is killed, Cort Seward is unsure of whether he should pursue the killer, or let the old, bitter ways die and transcend to a higher understanding of life, family and, ultimately, vengeance.


This screenplay is copyrighted to its author. All rights reserved. This screenplay may not be used or reproduced without the express written permission of the author.



FADE IN:

EXT. PLAINS - NIGHT
                                                            
We see flat, open terrain. Desert-like. The wind howls, and
then dies down. Starts and stops, over and again.

A man sits cross-legged on the cold, hard ground. The last
streaks of light dying on the horizon behind him. He stares
down the barrel of a rifle at something we don't see. He
waits for a long time. He fires.
                                                            
LATER
                                                            
He walks slowly, darkness swallowing him. A few rabbits
dangling from his right hand. He breathes heavily, continues
walking.
                                                            
EXT. SHACK - LATER
                                                            
He approaches the beaten up shack sitting out in the middle
of nowhere.
                                                            
INT. SHACK - MOMENTS LATER
                                                            
The door opens, and he steps in. He sets his things down
before noticing a DEAD MAN sitting in a chair in the corner.
He stares for a long time before speaking.
                                                            
                       MAN
Pa?
                                                            
No response. We ZOOM on the ragged, festering face of the
old, dead man. His eyes sit open, staring off a thousand
yards. A half-smile on his face. Two oozing bullet holes in
his stomach.

The MAN searches for something in the worthless clutter that
engulfs his one-room shack. He pulls out a LANTERN.
                                                            
EXT. SHACK - MOMENTS LATER
                                                            
He carefully examines the dirt outside the door, and around
the front of the house. Several pairs of footprints lead in
and out. He hunkers down to examine them closer.
                                                            
INT. SHACK - LATER
                                                            
The MAN has wrapped the DEAD MAN in an old blanket, and has
closed his eyes and cleaned his face off.
                                                            
LATER
                                                            

2.

He sits and roasts the skinned rabbits over an indoor fire,
staring deep into the flames. He pulls a pack of crumpled
tobacco out of one of his many pockets, rolls a cigarette
and lights it up.
                                                            
LATER
                                                            
He hastily eats the rabbits, spitting often. He stares over
at his dead father often, as well.
                                                            
LATER
                                                            
He smokes another cigarette on a bedroll. He kills it, and
lays his head down.
                                                            
 
INT. BAR - DAY
                                                            
The MAN enters, the door dinging, nodding at the BARTENDER
that sits quietly behind the bar. He turns to the corner,
where another MAN sits with his heels on the table, guns sit
next to his feet.

As he approaches, the man stands and speaks.
                                                            
                       MAN 2
Well, hell, Cort. You finally show
after
leavin' me sittin' for almost an
hour and a
half.
                                                            
                       CORT
Sit the hell down, Buford, and
finish your drink.
After that we can talk, and then I
won't feel so sorry for having to
hit you a couple times to settle
you down.
                                                            
BUFORD smiles. CORT doesn't reciprocate.
                                                            
                       BUFORD
Goddamn, if you ain't lookin' like
a Mary that just dropped her ice
cream.
                                                            
                       CORT
Had to bury Pa.
                                                            
                       BUFORD
You what? What the hell are you
talkin' about?
                                                            

3.

                       CORT
I said I had to bury Pa.
                                                            
BUFORD frowns, all color, and humor draining from his face.
                                                            
                       BUFORD
How did he go? Time just catch up
to him?
                                                            
                       CORT
Fella's name mighta been Time, I
'spose. He had a few friends.
                                                            
                       BUFORD
So he was killed?
                                                            
CORT nods, removing his hat and setting it on the table.
                                                            
                       BUFORD
Jesus Christ. No idea who?
                                                            
                       CORT
If I had one either you'd still be
waitin' or I'd have an end to this
story.
                                                            
                       BUFORD
Goddamn it. What do we do?
                                                            
                       CORT
I don't know. I don't know if
there is anything to do.
                                                            
                       BUFORD
Where were you?
                                                            
                       CORT
Getting' supper. Came back, he was
twice gutshot, still sittin' in
that damn chair he never leaves. I
couldn't find anything of use then
or this morning. Whoever it was
seems to have gotten away clean.
                                                            
                       BUFORD
So that's it?
                                                            
                       CORT
What do you want? If "Time" didn't
do it I woulda after a couple more
weeks with that bastard. If I do
find him, might just thank him.
                                                            

4.

                       BUFORD
Don't say that. He was your
father, for chrissakes.
                                                            
CORT stands, and sighs.
                                                            
                       CORT
I forgot to get a drink. Excuse
me.
                                                            
 
EXT. PLAINS - DAY
                                                            
A group of riders in triangle formation ride across the
flatland toward us. We HOLD for what seems like forever
until their features are visible. There are five.

The lead rider, a bearded, weathered man wearing a duster
with several marshal badges fastened in it, raises his hand.
They come to a fast halt.

He pulls his hat off, wipes his brow and spits. His name is
URIEL AUGUST.
                                                            
                       URIEL
      (to riders)
What do you say? Stop to stave
thirst, perhaps make a few
acquaintances?
                                                            
The man directly to his left, ABE, answers.
                                                            
                       ABE
I don't know, Uri.
                                                            
                       URIEL
You goin' female on me, Abe? You
do know what these boys would do
to a nice proper lady, especially
with hair as nice as yours?
                                                            
The other riders laugh dryly, nodding to each other. URIEL
guffaws. ABE can only crack a smile.
                                                            
                       ABE
I know you like a drink. Hell, we
all do. But we stop at every
saloon we come by, and every
time...someone dies.
                                                            
Everyone goes silent. URIEL turns to face ABE, bringing his
face closer.
                                                            

5.

                       URIEL
Come on, now, Abe. I don't always
start the fights. I just end 'em.
                                                            
More wheezing laughter from the other riders.
                                                            
                       ABE
We aren't bad people, Uri. We
aren't supposed to be bad people.
                                                            
                       URIEL
Jesus, Abe. I am getting a damn
drink. You don't have to join.
                                                            
                       ABE
Of course, Uriel.
                                                            
They start to trot slowly toward the settlement.
                                                            
                       URIEL
And Abe? I won't touch anyone. You
have my word.
                                                            
They nod endearingly to each other.
                                                            
                       URIEL
No one will.
                                                            
 
INT. BAR - DAY
                                                            
BUFORD and CORT sip drinks, and converse.
                                                            
                       BUFORD
Perhaps we mention somethin' to
Burress?
                                                            
                       CORT
He don't know shit.
                                                            
                       BUFORD
I still might.
                                                            
                       CORT
Well, I won't stop you.
                                                            


FADE OUT.


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