Showdown

"A Short"

written by

Warren Hiebert

ã 1995 Warren Hiebert

All rights reserved.

Showdown : "A Short" - 1995

Showdown

FADE IN:

1. INTERIOR- COWBOYS BEDROOM - HOTEL - EARLY MORNING 1.

A lone COWBOY sits on the edge of his bed in a small room. The room is shaded and dimly lit. The bed is plain and the bedspread is a simple design. It has not been slept in.

The cowboy removes a folded picture from within his shirt. He carefully unfolds the picture. At each fold he pauses, caresses the crease, and continues. Finally when the picture is flattened he takes the image by its tattered edge, stands up, walks to the window and examines it.

The cowboy opens an ordinary, tattered curtain allowing a beam of sunlight to illuminate his precious possession. He stands fixated. He moves the yellow, netted curtain further apart to obtain more illumination. Finally he refolds the picture and places it within his shirt next to his breast. He turns from the window and surveys the room.

The bolts of light reveal a sparsely furnished room. An adequate, battered, oaken dresser with scratches deeply embedded in its surface lies against the wall opposite the bed. Upon the dresser a porcelain washtub sits beside a pitcher and beside the pitcher a Colt 45 six shooter. A mirror reflects a greying brown leather, ornately decorated, holster suspended from a dresser post. A spittoon rests against a dresser leg.

The cowboy walks to the bed where he retrieves his broad rimmed hat and places it upon his head. Then, from beneath the bed, beside a white enamelled chamber pot he retrieves his boots. He stuffs his feet into them and with the spurs resonating throughout the room he moves to the dresser while adjusting the hats rim.

At the dresser he pauses, looks at his image with dissatisfaction, and picks up the pitcher and pours its contents into the washtub. With some of the liquid overflowing the washtub's edge he scoops and splashes his face. Lifting up his face from the wash basin he spots the reflection of his gun in the mirror. He picks up his weapon. Gingerly he turns it over in his hands. He opens the gun, spinning the chamber upon his palm, and sights down the barrel. Recovering the holster from its sitting place he remove six cartridges from the belt and places them into each vacant chamber with cautious determination.

The cowboy then places the holster upon his hips. Adjusted, he snugly ties the leggings of the holster. Satisfied with the holsters position he then rams the six shooter home against his leg.

The cowboy exits his room. As he opens the door he stops, turns around, and sights his room one more time. He smiles to himself. He shrugs his shoulders and removes the picture from within his shirt. He ambles over to the dresser, throws the picture down, turns around and exits the open door.

2. INT. HOTEL STAIRWELL - EARLY MORNING 2.

Through muted, dusky, shadows the cowboy descends the stairs, his spurs clanging with each progression of the steps. His hand guides his journey, firmly along the banister.

3A. EXTERIOR HOTEL - EARLY MORNING 3A.

Stepping into the morning sun the cowboy exits the hotels' front door. All is quiet.

He is breathing heavily as he cautiously surveys the deserted street. Beads of perspiration hang from his nose and fall to the dusty boards beneath his feet. His breath hangs, suspended, from his mouth in the cool, damp morning sun.

As the cowboy moves forward to the dirty street he reaches into a shirt pocket and withdraws a leather pouch. From within the pouch he retrieves a wad of tobacco and rolling paper. He rolls himself a cigarette. The cowboy locates the cigarette between his sun cracked, weathered lips. He again reaches into his shirt pocket. He searches but no matches are found.

With the roughly rolled cigarette in his mouth the cowboy moves forward, a few steps, in front of the hotel door. Something is amiss. His eyes dart back and forth and centre on the street. He stands still. Abruptly his glance is stolen by the creaking of a wooden chair. His hand slides to his pistol as he turns to face a WEATHERED COWBOY, his hat drawn over his face, sitting in a chair, leaning against an exterior wall. The weathered cowboy does not move.

As the cowboy walks toward this intruder the stranger lifts up his head causing the cowboy to stand still with his hand at the ready position. The old cowboy reaches into his shirt pocket, withdraws one wooden match, lights it on the wall behind him, and offers it. The cowboy bends over, cigarette momentarily passing through the flame, and straightens. He inhales deeply and blows a cloud of smoke. Relaxed, the cowboy looks to the stranger who moves his head sideways to better look at him. Somewhat at ease the cowboy sees something familiar in this older mans eyes.

The old cowboy slowly lifts his head higher and with moisture in his eyes nods to the cowboy. Immediately afterwards he shields his face once again with his hat. The old cowboys chin soon rests upon his chest with his arms crossed.

The cowboy moves forward a few feet to a railing, hanging suspended upon two weathered wooden posts. He looks out into the inactive street and then downwards at the pebble strewn road. Relaxing with one elbow upon the railing he takes another long drag of his cigarette and in a long drawn out motion blows out the smoke.

Tipping back his broad rimmed hat he again looks to the street. Nothing is moving. He glances backwards, over his shoulder, to an empty chair where the old cowboy was sitting. As he returns his gaze to the street he straightens, throws his cigarette down with a delft flick of his fingers, walks to it and crushes it with the heel of his boot.

He ambles to the edge of the street where he lifts his head and ponders the sky. As he adjusts his hat with both hands he steps onto the street. His trigger hand drops down to his side ... it is clinched into a ball.

3B. EXTERIOR - STREET - EARLY MORNING 3B.

The cowboy lingers momentarily as he as he steps onto the street. Splaying the fingers of his trigger hand he repeats this motion. Fingers open then close, open then close, open again and rest on the leather on his thigh.

Sauntering down the street his taut eyes display no emotion. His eyes and his head appear frozen. He does not look to the side. With echoing spurs his progress is slow and deliberate. Dust clouds arise from his boot imprints as his confident stride takes him further down the street.

Suddenly with recognition displayed on his face he abruptly halts. He has seen his adversary. Sweat trickles from his face. His right hand, fingers stretched outward and palm spread wide, hovers ready at his side.

As the cowboy's breath increases laboriously his left arm rises to his coat. His hand brushes the coats dusty material from the reach of the six shooters protruding handle. For a moment he clenches his left hand into an angry fist and then slowly lets it slide to his side. His shoulders tense and rise as his eyes, for a fleeting second, drift downward then with lightning speed turn upwards. He continues a couple of more steps, stops, then looks to his opponent.

3C. EXTERIOR - STREET - EARLY MORNING 3C.

A smoke belching CITY BUS, its head lamps on high beam, stands at the end of the road. With infrequent belching its internal combustion engine spews clouds of black carbon into the air shrouding its rear quarters.

The cowboy takes several steps forward towards his fate. At each step his monstrous opponent volcanically explodes. Closer, and closer the cowboy closes the gap between them.

With lightning speed the cowboy's hand draws his gun. The bus, rubber burning, squeals its tyres in response. Several shots ring out in rapid succession and then ... all is quiet.

3D. EXTERIOR -STREET - EARLY MORNING 3D.

At the end of the street the bus, its rear end bearing retreat, stands silhouetted against the rising sun. It stops for only a moment then resumes its journey soon leaving only a dusty, black, cloud as evidence of its existence.

3E. EXTERIOR - STREET - EARLY MORNING 3E.

All is quiet on the dirty street bisecting the town into two. Element defying buildings resonant the winds journey as a screeching crow proclaims his territory. The transparent glass of several stores resists visual intrusion with reflections of the buildings opposite to them.

In the middle of the street, etched into the soft grey, rutted soil the cowboy lies. With his six shooter in his hand at his side and his hat on his head he has been ... flattened.

FADE OUT.

THE END