Lone Star Page #2

PILAR:

(Mutters)

He's going to wish he was dead.

EXT. STREET -- DAY -- CU VAQUERO PICTURE

On the door of a deluxe pickup truck is an airbrushed picture

of a Pancho Villa-looking vaquero with bandoliers crossing

his chest and a gun blazing in each hand. We hear LOUD MUSIC --

AMADO (O.S.)

Luis! Give me that Phillips-head

back--

WIDER:

A small group of teenage Chicano BOYS hang around the truck

in the bed, on the hood, leaning against it. A BOOMBOX placed

on top of the cab blasts RANCHA MUSIC out at the neighborhood.

Somebody's legs are hanging out the open passenger-side door.

The kids suddenly look as a Sheriff's Department car slides

into the f.g. A Deputy Sheriff, TRAVIS, gets out

KIDS:

Trying to look tough and unworried as we TRACK across the

street toward them. Travis's hand reaches out from behind

the camera to flick the MUSIC OFF.

INT. PICKUP

Amado CRUZ, Pilar's 15-year-old son, lies on the front seat

installing a compact disc player into the dash slot.

He reaches up to the dash, can't find what he wants

AMADO:

Somebody hand me the CD player--

damelo pendejos--

He looks up and we TILT to see Travis leaning in the window,

examining the new radio

TRAVIS:

They come a long way from those

old 8-track jobs, haven't they?

AMADO:

Something wrong?

TRAVIS:

(Waves radio)

This is stolen property. Alla

you fellas are coming down to the

station.

INT. CAFE SANTA BARBARA -- AFTERNOON -- ENRIQUE

Sweat beads the forehead of a thin, tired-looking recent

immigrant, ENRIQUE, as he delivers platters of chile rellenos

to a booth. MEXICAN MUSIC plays on a jukebox in the b.g.

We HOLD on the booth, where HOLLIS POGUE, in his 60s

entertains two GOOD OLD BOYS--

HOLLIS:

So Buddy walks up to the porch

and there's old Fishbait McHenry,

cleanin' the dirt out his toenails

with a pocketknife--he was the

most hygienic of all the McHenrys--

The breakfast companions are laughing already--

HOLLIS:

"Fishbait," says Buddy, in that

quiet way of his, "what you know

about them tires that went missing

from markets?" Fishbait thinks

for a minute, then he lifts up a

loose board from the porch floor

and calls down into it, "C'mon

out, Pooter, they caught us!"

FENTON:

(Laughing)

Buddy Deeds. He had a way.

HOLLIS:

He known who it was onnaconna the

tire tracks in the dirt from the

back of the garage to where they

loaded up. "Old Fishbait," he

says, "never lifted a thing in

this world if there was a way he

could roll it."

More laughter--

FENTON:

Won't be another like him. That

boy of his doesn't come near it.

You ask me, he's all hat and no

cattle

SAM (O.S.)

Fellas--

We WIDEN to see Sam standing by their booth. No telling how

long he's been listening, Fenton is embarrassed.

Rate this script:3.5 / 2 votes