Ghosts of Elkhorn
by
Rachel Singer
 
 
 EXT. DENVER STREETS - EVENING -
 
 A black Buick glides down city streets. The driver, ROMAN 
 PHILLIPS, is tall, broad-shouldered, handsome, around twenty. 
 His eyes flit nervously to the rearview mirror, to his 
 passenger in the back. HARRY LEIGHT, is small, blocky and 
 tough, a streetbred Limey in an expensive suit. He checks 
 the chambers of a heavy Webley service revolver and slips it 
 back under his coat. He thinks better of it, puts it in a 
 side pocket of the car.
 
 ROMAN
 ...So...might makes right...
 
 HARRY
 No, might is right...
  (He pats Roman's 
 shoulder.)
 Stick with me, kid. You'll have 
 more than you ever dreamed of.
 
 ROMAN
 More what?
 
 HARRY
 More...everything.
 
 Roman looks more unnerved than pleased. He's late reacting 
 to another driver making a dumb move but he maneuvers around 
  him expertly, banging on the horn and cursing. Harry smiles.
 
 HARRY (CONT'D)
 Chip off the old block, you are.
 
 ROMAN
 ...Harry...uh, I was 
 thinking...about...things and...
 
 HARRY
 Here! Pull into the alley.
 
 Roman swerves into the alley and stops at a gesture from 
 Harry. Harry leans over the seat, angry.
 
 HARRY (CONT'D)
 Don't be thinking about "things" 
 when you're working. You'll end up 
 having no use for them. You'll be 
 dead. Now, let's go.
 
 He gets out of the car. Roman stays put. Harry leans in 
 the front passenger window. The paternal air has disappeared.
 
  HARRY (CONT'D)
 (threatening) Don't disappoint me, 
 Roman. It wouldn't sit well.
 
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
  2.
 
 
 Harry heads for the back door of a speakeasy. Roman starts 
 to follow. The DOORMAN blocks him with a massive arm.
 
  DOORMAN
 Ain't you gonna wait in the car, 
 kid?
 
 Harry puts a gloved hand on the Doorman's arm.
 
 HARRY
 He has to learn the social graces 
 sometime.
 
 Roman shifts uncomfortably. The Doorman scowls, unsure if 
 it's an insult. They push past him into the smoky bar.
 
 INT. SPEAKEASY - HARRY, ROMAN
 
 Harry focuses on the BARTENDER. The man sees him and looks 
 around nervously. They reach the bar. Harry stares straight 
 at the Bartender.
 
 BARTENDER
 Harry...Mr. Leight. Good to see 
 you.
 
 HARRY
 Good to see you, Fred.
 
 BARTENDER
 What'll you have?
 
  HARRY
 Mr. Moran if he's around.
 
 BARTENDER
 He's on the way. Something to drink?
 
 Harry turns around and scans the room warily. Couple of 
 guys in the corner have hard stares. He turns back. The 
 Bartender is pouring him a drink.
 
 BARTENDER (CONT'D)
 Scotch whiskey. The real thing. 
  Just off the boat.
 
 HARRY
 The boat comes to Denver?
 
 The bartender laughs nervously. Harry lifts the glass, sniffs 
 it, puts it down without drinking.
 
 BARTENDER
 Something for you, kid?
 
 ROMAN
 I'm no kid.
 
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 3.
 
 
 Roman glances at Harry nervously. But Harry is watching a 
 man approach. Tall, rugged, tough; the owner, JIM MORAN.
 
  MORAN
 Harry. Good to see you.
 
 HARRY
 You kept me waiting, Jim.
 
 MORAN
 Ah...you know, business.
 
 HARRY
 This...is business.
 
 Moran is looking Roman over, frisking him with his eyes.
 
 HARRY (CONT'D)
  He's with me. Roman Phillips.
 
 Moran leans past Harry and shakes Roman's hand. He looks 
 into his eyes, hard and scary. Roman tries to meet his stare.
 
 MORAN
  New line of work for you, Roman?
 
 Roman tries to withdraw his hand but Moran keeps hold of it.
 
 ROMAN
 I...drive for Mr. Leight.
 
 MORAN
  So you do.
 
 Moran looks down at Roman's hand in his. The difference is 
 unsettling; Roman's soft, youthful hand in his enormous paw. 
 He looks at Harry. Harry is outwardly calm but his eyes 
 have scaled over.
 
 MORAN (CONT'D)
 What else he do for you, Harry?
 
 Harry's stare is response enough.
 
 MORAN (CONT'D)
  He take care of those fine English 
 clothes?
 
 HARRY
 You do have a point to make, Jim...
 
 MORAN
  I do. It's...progress. It's the 
 new West now, Harry. Men don't 
 operate alone anymore.
 
 HARRY
 I started this place, Jim.
 
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 4.
 
 
 MORAN
 And I'll always be grateful.
 
 HARRY
 I started you.
 
 MORAN
 But you can't stop me. We have to 
 move on. Try this...
  (He lifts a glass of 
 whiskey.)
 It's really quite good.
 
 HARRY
 It's not scotch.
 
  MORAN
 No. It's not scotch. But it is 
 good. You see, Harry, these 
 folks...they don't care about scotch. 
 They don't care about English 
  suits...or the War. They're 
 Americans. They like things American. 
 They fought for what they got. And 
 they don't like some, well, some 
 foreigner, with his foreign ways, 
 comin' in here with his suit and 
 his...boy, taking away their good 
 money.
 
 The crowd starts to edge away. The men in the corners stay 
 put.
 
 HARRY
 They don't like it?
 
 MORAN
 I don't like it. I don't like your 
 attitude.
 
  HARRY
 You don't.
 
 MORAN
 I run this place. I make it work. 
 Why should I pay you? For what? 
  Because you're so tough?
 
 HARRY
 Because I set you up and you owe me.
 
 MORAN
 I've paid you enough.
 
  HARRY
 Because I'll break you.
 
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 5.
 
 
  MORAN
 Who, you and the kid?
 
 HARRY
 Just me.
 
 MORAN
 Well, okay. Let's see what you really 
 learned in the trenches.
 
 HARRY
 You may just do that.
 
 Moran moves back down the bar, revealing a pistol...lying 
  between them. Harry looks at it, looks around him. It's 
 just what they want him to do.
 
 HARRY (CONT'D)
 The kid leaves.
 
 MORAN
  You both do. You're a smart guy, 
 Harry.
 
 Harry looks around, looks at the kid...the crowd, the gunmen. 
 He picks up his homburg and puts it on. He lifts the glass, 
 sips...
 
 HARRY
 It's not good stuff, Jim.
 
 He turns and pushes through the crowd. Roman, red-faced 
 with fear and embarrassment, follows him. The piano rags 
  them out.
 
 MORAN
 (yelling)
 Harry...
 (Harry turns.)
 Come back sometime...for a drink.
 
  HARRY
 I'll do that. Real soon.
 
 He turns to go, followed by two gunsels.
 
 ENTRANCE - LOBBY
 Harry steps through the door first, 
  steps to the side. As the others 
 step through, he cold-cocks one man. 
 The other tries to bring his gun to 
 bear but Roman's in the way. Harry 
  steps around Roman and beats him 
 unconscious with three vicious blows. 
 Roman is terrified.
 
 Harry grabs their guns. The Doorman puts his hands up in 
 silent plea. Harry smashes him in the head.
 
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 6.
 
 
 He slumps to the floor.
 
 Roman starts to beat it out the door. Harry grabs him back. 
 He wedges the unconscious men in the doors, hands a gun to 
 Roman and takes off down a side corridor fast. They take a 
 left, through a door and come out in the alley a hundred 
 feet down from the car.
 
 EXT. ALLEY