12.
Another prostitute, wearing a red and white dress, puffs on a cigar like a man, and eyes James as he walks past ... RED DRESS Forget the bath, baby. You come climb mama like a tree. Seems the whole city knows he is from out of town -- eyes follow him everywhere. James’ gaze shifts from one man to the next, sizing the threat in each of them. A large man slams into him, almost knocking him down. Another man reaches in his coat so quick, James never feels his wallet lifted from his pocket. BIG MAN WATCH WHERE THE HELL YOU’RE GOING. James touches his jacket, feels the emptiness in his pocket. JAMES DILLARD Give it back. BIG MAN Give what back. JAMES DILLARD My wallet. BIG MAN I didn’t take your fucking -- James swings the shotgun like a golf club into the big man’s groin, doubling him over, then swings it again into the big man’s chin, knocking him backward onto the sidewalk. James leaps on him, begins tearing through his pockets yanking wallets, pocket watches, and coin purses, then tossing them on the ground beside him. James looks up, sees a skinny man in his twenties looking back at him. Then the skinny man turns and runs. James shoulders the shotgun and fires a round of buckshot into the man’s ass. He shrieks, falls down, stumbles to his feet and keeps running. A boy points at the skinny man and shouts -- BOY PICK POCKET. A cowboy slams his arm into the skinny man as he runs past, knocking him to the street where the mob begins kicking him as the skinny man curls into a ball. ANGLE ON --
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