WAY OUT WEST

THE SANGRE DE CRISTO MOUNTAINS –

are blood-red and purple under white snow caps. The desert sparkles in the sunshine as the DEADWOOD STAGE climbs the dusty trail to the heights, then sweeps by to reveal...

LUSH VALLEY BELOW

A sparkling stream shimmers in the distance, rimmed by cottonwood trees. The stage jangles down a winding trail toward a tiny hamlet surrounded by peaceful ranches.

A stirring Bernard Hermann western theme rides over a strange metallic minor chord reminiscent of spaces and voids.

INT. STAGECOACH

Bouncing and lurching, an older woman, FREDA, flirts shamelessly with a handsome younger man. JAKE McCORD, 29, is naive but clever. He wears an eastern suit and a bowler.

FREDA

...well you're certainly right, Mr. McCord, this Wild West of yours is beautiful!

JAKE

It's Jake, Ma'am. And it isn't wild at all. Nothing much ever happens except...oh...your occasional gunfight, your drunken violence... stampedes, flash floods, or, of course, your range wars...

FREDA

(amused, smiles)

Oh, you are having fun with me, aren't you, Jake?

(He grins, then turns, looks pensively out the window.)

Been in the east long?

JAKE

Thirteen years.

FREDA

A lot can happen in thirteen years.

JAKE

Yeah, well, there was boarding school, college, med school.

FREDA

No.I mean here. Things can change for the better in that long a time. Progress, you know.

JAKE

Yeah. Sure.

FREDA

So, you're a doctor?

JAKE

No. I was a month short of graduating when...

He breaks off, looks pensively out the window.

FREDA

When what, Jake?

JAKE

What...oh, Got a telegram, from my brother. Some kind of emergency. Didn't say what.

FREDA

Well, I always look on the bright side. Whatever it is, I'm sure a smart young man like yourself can handle it.

JAKE

Yeah, I'm sure.

END MAIN TITLES

as the stage rumbles into a picturesque western town.

DEADWOOD SPRINGS

Jake gets out, tips his hat to Freda as ZANE, the gruff hand riding shotgun, hands down his valise.

JAKE (CONT'D)

Thanks. Bye Ma'am. Hope you get to Tombstone safe and sound. Sounds like a real nice town.

FREDA

Thank you, Jake. Looks like a nice little town you have here too, after all.

Zane SNORTS. Jake grabs his valise, looks at the idyllic village.

JAKE

Can't be as bad as you say.

ZANE

Nope.

(spits)

It's worse.

JAKE

I grew up here. It's a lovely town. Has a library and all.

DRIVER

Well, if you change your mind...

JAKE

I won't...

DRIVER

...we'll be back in two days. Happy hunting. Yehaw!

Snaps his whip, door slams as the stage pulls away. Jake watches curiously. He turns, looks at the town. Looks fine.

JAKE'S POV - MAIN STREET

Mostly adobe. It ends at a small church with a belltower. He walks down the street in Philadelphia suit, squeaky shoes. It's peaceful. Townsfolk stare. He nods to the men, tips his hat to the ladies. They gawk as if he's from outer space.

THE STANSBURY

An edifice of adobe construction including a casino, saloon, dancehall. Upstairs are girls and the offices of Stansbury Enterprises. Jake walks up, looks at it in awe.

JAKE

This... is new.

Several people lounge around chairs on the wooden sidewalk at the entrance. One is LOLA, a heavily made-up dance-hall girl, early twenties, with swept up hair and low-cut gown. On her neck; a gold locket with the letters H/L intertwined.

LOLA

You look familiar. You new around here?

JAKE

Live here. Been away.

LOLA

Away?

JAKE

At school.

(She is familiar in a distant way.)

Do I know you?

LOLA

No.

He turns, walks to the swinging saloon doors, turns back.

LOLA (CONT'D)

Why'd you come back.

JAKE

Got a telegram...

He shows it to her. She reads it, goes white, backs away.

LOLA

Has the stage left yet? When it does, you'd best be on it.

JAKE

That's not a very friendly attitude.

LOLA

It sure is. You don't belong here. Not anymore.

He looks at her strangely. She turns, bangs through swinging doors. He stuffs the telegram into his pocket, follows.

INT. SALOON - BAR

A long bar under a mirror and portrait of a lady. Beyond the bar; a gaming room. Low card tables are filled with a cross-section of western scum. Light streams through windows.

A BIG SQUEAK. Jake stands in the swinging doors, taking in the scene as all eyes turn to him. He strides to the bar. Lola follows him in. A bar girl snickers at his clothes.

GIRL

What, the circus in town?

ANGLE - BARTENDER

A crusty type. Jake steps up, gawking at the elaborate bar.

JAKE

This wasn't here before.

BARKEEP

Five years old.

JAKE

New Hardware. Very nice.

BARKEEP

Gotta stay up with the times.

JAKE

Must have cost a lot.

BARKEEP

That's Mr. Stansbury's business.

JAKE

Who's Mr. Stansbury?

A sudden chill. All turn to a powerful-looking man who glances up from his newspaper and fixes Jake with a merciless stare. Something in the way the others glance at him tells us this is STANSBURY. A long beat as the room holds its breath. Then Stansbury looks back down to his newspaper. The others turn back to their games.

BARKEEP

What'll you have, mister?

JAKE

Ahhh...let me see...

He turns. Down at the end of the bar a tough hombre, SHORTY, is cleaning his nails with a Bowie knife. He glares at Jake.

BARKEEP

You...passing through?

JAKE

(staring at Shorty)

Uh...No. I live here. Got a place north of town.

BARKEEP

Ya don't say? How come I never seen you before?

JAKE

Been away. Philadelphia. Say, I was supposed to meet my brother here. Don't suppose you've seen him?

BARKEEP

Don't know. What's his name?

JAKE

Luke...I guess I'll have a beer. Uh, Luke McCord.

Barkeep starts to draw it when the name sinks in. He stops in mid-pull, sets the half-full glass down in front of Jake.

BARKEEP

Maybe you ought to make it a short one.

The piano player stops. Some eyes turn to Jake, some turn to BART, a rough character at the faro table. Bart glances at Stansbury. Stansbury's eyes could burn holes through Jake's eastern tweeds. Imperceptibly, Stansbury nods. A nearby drunk, BARNEY, hops up, scurries out the swinging doors.

The bar goes quiet. Some gulp their drinks and get out of the way. Bart puts the deck down and stares at Jake. He gets up and slowly, spurs chinking, walks to the bar. He nods to the bartender who pours him a shot and withdraws.

BART

Have a drink. For the road.

JAKE

You going someplace?

BART

No.

JAKE

Then no point in drinking for the road. I live here. My family owns the Lazy R.

Shorty moves next to him.

SHORTY

No they don't.

JAKE

Yeah, you must know it. North of town. On the right fork.

SHORTY

Oh, I know it, alright.

Scattered snickering.

JAKE

Name's Jake McCord.

He puts out his hand to shake. But THE FIST is faster. It comes right into his face.

Bart knocks him across the room. Jake's legs catch the edge of a table. He catapults across, scattering cards and landing on top of REG, a big, bearded cowpoke. Reg picks him up and throws him, skittering, back. Bart waits, timing a round-house right. Jake skids up, sees the punch coming, ducks under it. Bart whiffs. His momentum carries the punch into Shorty, who goes down in a clump.

Bart screams at his fractured hand. Enraged, he charges Jake. Jake sidesteps the charge. Two quick jabs and Bart slams against the bar. They gape. Jake defends himself well. This guy in a stupid suit is a trained boxer.

Jake steps back, lets Bart up. Bart comes at him low. Jake jukes right, slips left and nails Bart with a hard down-snapping right as he charges past. Bart smashes into the bar, scattering glass. Bart turns, a fractured beer mug in his hand. But Jake has followed up. Bart meets three quick lefts and a right cross that turns his knees to jelly. But as Jake follows through, he steps into a cannon right that Shorty launches from his blind side. Jake drops. The barkeep looks down.

BARKEEP

You fight pretty well.

Jake staggers to his feet.

JAKE

Came in second. Intramural boxing. University of Pennsylvania.

Reg punches him from his other blind side. Jake goes down. The barkeep looks down.

BARKEEP

Who came in first?

The cowboys laugh at him as he staggers to his feet.

BART

Watch out, Reg, he's innermural runner up, Pennsylvania.

REG

Well, that's alright. I'm first place champ, Deadwood Springs.

Reg charges, Jake counters, knocks Reg down. But Bart steps in, then Shorty. Outnumbered, Jake is beaten, knocked down.

SWINGING DOORS

SLAM OPEN. EARLE, a big tough guy with a scattergun, enters, followed by Barney. Earle levels the gun casually at the bar. He looks around at the destruction, the broken furniture, the bleeding patrons. His eyes find Stansbury. A slight nod in Jake's direction and Earle has his marching orders. He turns to the bar. The barkeep is dry.

BARKEEP

Howdy Earl, what brings you around?

EARLE

Thought I heard something Ernie. Annoying sound. Like rats scurrying in the barnyard. What's new?

The barkeep looks at Jake, picking himself up, staggering, sinking back, trying to get the roundness back in his derby.

EARLE (CONT'D)

Get up, mate.

JAKE

And who the hell are you?

EARLE

I'm what passes for law in these parts.

He pulls back his vest to reveal a badge.

JAKE

About time! Where you been?

EARLE

Indisposed. Now you, look what you've done.

He indicates the destruction.

JAKE

Had some help.

EARLE

No doubt. That you under all that blood, Reg?

REG

Uuuughh.

EARLE

I guess you're just going to have to keep on fighting until you get good at it.

(turns to the others)

What happened?

JAKE

(cutting in)

I've no idea. Totally unprovoked, your honor. I just introduced myself and...

EARLE

And who might you be?

JAKE

Jake McCord.

He looks up. the last thing he sees is the stock of the scattergun slamming into his face.

DESERT - SOME WAYS OUT OF TOWN - DUST

He wakes, choking on it. He rolls over. He's apparently been dumped from a horse. The sheriff and others loom over him, still mounted. Shorty throws down his coat, his hat.

JAKE (CONT'D)

What happened?

EARLE

Just saved your life. You ought to thank me.

JAKE

Well, then...thank you, Sheriff.

EARLE

You're welcome.

Jake moves his head to see if his neck still works.

JAKE

Goodness of your heart?

EARLE

Uh uh. Budgetary considerations. Would have killed you in the old days. Killed you and set down to lunch. Them days are gone. Fiscally irresponsible. There's the burial fee, the undertaking fee, the permit, body removal. Breakage to property. And the bullets, of course. They all add up. Getting too damn expensive to kill a man. Wild West going all to hell.

JAKE

What's going on, here?

EARLE

You're leaving.

JAKE

But it's my home. I'm in the right.

EARLE

I'm Sheriff. I decide that. Now, I done you a favor. Do me one. Don't come back.

JAKE

But I live here.

EARLE

You die here if the boys see you again. Get outta town and stay out. Stay out of the Territory or I'll kill you, myself.

The Sheriff and Shorty ride off. Jake calls after him.

JAKE

Hey, Sheriff! What'd I do?

Another rider remains. Lola. The Sheriff looks at her hard as he rides past. She throws down Jake's valise.

LOLA

Forgot your kick.

JAKE

I got distracted...Thanks.

LOLA

You okay?

JAKE

Compared to what?

(picks up the valise, dusts it off. Dust chokes him.)

Friendly town.

LOLA

Used to be. Guess they just didn't take a shine to you.

JAKE

Something I said?

LOLA

Your name.

JAKE

My family's lived here for three generations. Never had any trouble before.

LOLA

You got it now.

(He opens his valise. Books tumble out.)

What's that?

JAKE

Books.

LOLA

Books!? What the hell good are books in the desert?

He hands her one. She looks at it curiously. He babbles as he tries to clear his head.

JAKE

More valuable than guns on the frontier. Lot fewer of them. The newest thing. Science Fiction. Poe... Jules Verne. Here, SteamMan of the Prairie. I think you'd like this one.

LOLA

Really?

JAKE

Or this. Horatio at the Bridge. One hero stood against a legion.

LOLA

(sardonic)

Great. I like fairy tales.

JAKE

Not a fairy tale. History. Roman history.

LOLA

(a beat)

What about food, a blanket? What about a gun?

JAKE

Didn't think I'd need that stuff.

LOLA

Jesus!

She reaches under her skirts and pulls out a forty-four.

LOLA (CONT'D)

Take this.

JAKE

What for?

LOLA

They may come after you.

JAKE

Why?

LOLA

Just take it and go.

JAKE

Go? Go where? This is my home.

LOLA

Not anymore.

(She hops down, unties her bedroll)

A blanket. Some food. Not much, but it's all I got.

JAKE

Why are you doing this?

(She doesn't answer.)

I'll pay you back.

LOLA

Do it by not coming back. Stage'll be by tomorrow. Just pick a trail and go.

He turns, walks off in the wrong direction, toward town. She swings into the saddle, spurs her horse, cuts him off.

LOLA (CONT'D)

Hey, where are you going?

JAKE

My family's ranch. The Lazy R.

LOLA

No. Don't go there.

JAKE

Why not?

LOLA

Your family's not there.

JAKE

What?

LOLA

(a beat)

Look, Stansbury...and the others...these are real bad men. Stansbury's vicious, a killer...

(a beat)

He stole your ranch.

JAKE

How can he do that? My brother...

LOLA

(cutting him off)

Your brother's dead. Bart killed him. Stansbury's orders.

JAKE

No!

LOLA

I'm ...very sorry.

Her expression makes him believe. He turns away, suddenly overcome. She looks down. He turns back, angry, determined.

JAKE

How'd it happen?

LOLA

They called him out in the street. Luke must have thought there were rules. They shot him down. That's the last time anyone stood against Stansbury.

She swings her horse around, stops, stares down at him.

LOLA (CONT'D)

He thought he could take them on alone. He couldn't. Don't you make that mistake. No one's gonna help you. I'm sorry. Now go. Go. Don't look back.

Jake walks right past her down the trail.

LOLA (CONT'D)

Hey, where are you going?

JAKE

I never ran from a fight.

LOLA

Now would be a good time to start.

JAKE

I'm a McCord.

LOLA

That's what I'm afraid of. Look, there's nothing you can do. I don't want to see you killed. I don't want you to get anybody else killed. The best thing you can do is leave.

JAKE

Why do you care?

LOLA

You..remind me of someone.

JAKE

Who?

(She doesn't answer.)

Lola spurs her horse, then pulls up, turns back)

LOLA

Oh... What happened to Horatio?

JAKE

Oh, he got killed.

She shakes her head, rides off.

THE LAZY R RANCH - DUSK

An isolated homestead. A low ranchhouse, stables, corrals.

Earle and Shorty ride up, dismount, tie reins to the hitching post. Earle starts to walk in, but STANSBURY rushes out to meet him. Bart trails...watching. Without a word, Stansbury grabs Earle by the neck. Earle's eyes bulge, his veins pop, his arms grab Stansbury's hands, but they are clamped on his throat, choking the air and life out of him. Stansbury draws him closer, studying his face.

STANSBURY

How did McCord get here?

Earle can't get a word out. His throat is clamped, his face is turning blue.

STANSBURY (CONT'D)

Why wasn't I ...informed?!

Earle's mouth opens, his tongue pops out.

STANSBURY (CONT'D)

I don't like surprises. They make me...cross.

He studies Earle a little longer. Earle's eyes roll up. He passes out. Stansbury studies this reaction for a moment, then releases him. Earle drops to the ground in a heap. Stansbury looks up as Lola canters in, staring at Earle.

Earle gasps. His eyes open. He starts to breathe again. Stansbury stands over him...all concern. We don't know if this is an act for Lola or if he's just weird.

STANSBURY (CONT'D)

You remember the question?

EARLE

McCord... I...I don't know how he got here or why. He just got off the stage.

STANSBURY

But...I want to know who's on the stage.

EARLE

What do you expect me to do, meet every stage?

STANSBURY

(almost a whisper)

I could bury you, face-up in the road. That way, passing teams could kick you alert.

EARLE

I'll...I'll bribe the driver. I'll... I'll put the stage operators on the payroll.

(Stansbury waves him off.)

No problem. Consider it done.

Stansbury turns back...a threat.

STANSBURY

I do.

He escorts an apprehensive Lola inside. Lola moves on ahead. Stansbury stops at the door and turns back.

STANSBURY (CONT'D)

Ah...Earle. You didn't happen to kill him for me?