7.
SHEA They’ll shoot ‘em anyway. Then the farmer.
The farmer leans out the side with a shotgun, blasts both barrels at an approaching rider, knocking both him and horse over ... WITH THE FARMER -- He is maybe 40. A mustache that was once kept neat is beginning to go wild. The rest of his face saw it’s last shave a week ago. His name is JAMES DILLARD DUTTON. James reloads the shotgun. Watches as the thieves run wide of his wagon and race out ahead of him. They stop their horses and turn back toward James and his wagon ... James pulls his team to a stop. Studies the men just sitting there, horseback. James sets the shotgun on the seat of the wagon, reaches back and grabs a long, leather scabbard ... James steps from the wagon and walks out into the field. WITH THE THIEVES -- They study the man walking out through the field as their horses pant and suck heavy breaths. One thief looks to the other -- a man with a scar running the length of his cheek. THIEF What’s he doing? SCAR CHEEK Don’t know. Don’t give a shit. Scar Cheek reloads his pistol, spurs his horse toward James, who now stands alone in the field of waist high grass. As the riders race toward James, he lays down in the grass. James pulls a rifle from the scabbard -- a long, brass scope runs the length of the barrel. He sits, using his knees as braces for his elbows, and shoulders the rifle. Looks down the scope ... THROUGH THE SCOPE -- James places the cross-wire reticle over scar cheek’s heart, pulls the trigger. Smoke fills the frame, then rises and fades from view, revealing -- Scar cheek’s riderless horse runs wildly through the field.
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