Bone Tomahawk Page #2

Are you sure you're able to--

Please continue.

What's your

predilection, mister?

You look like you could

use something potent.

Or omnipotent.

My brother makes this.

It's like a tree fell on you.

Redwood.

Sheriff, it's quiet

enough in here

without the two of

you comin' in here

and scarin' everybody off.

-We got business.

-Important.

Good evening.

You aren't mute, are you?

No.

In civilized towns,

places like Bright Hope,

you look a man direct in the

face when you talk to him.

I didn't do nothing wrong.

I'm just sat in here

having a drink.

I didn't say you did

anything wrong.

What's your name?

- Buddy.

Took a moment to recall that,

didn't it?

My name is Buddy.

Why are you here?

I'm going to meet someone.

What's today's date?

It seems like if you had

a rendezvous scheduled

you'd know what day it was.

Let me give you an

easier question.

Who did you steal

those clothes from?

I ain't stole nothing!

Why, you're pretty angry

for a guy named "Buddy".

You've been squirting

lemon juice

in my eye since

you came in here.

I didn't commit no crime.

And why are you talkin'

about crime now?

Are you carrying a weapon?

A gun, knife, a letter

opener with a sharp point?

Dynamite?

Nope.

-Deputy.

-Raise your hands.

If you move in a hasty manner,

I'll put a bullet in you.

That's the only thing.

Like I just told you,

I ain't got no weapon.

Because you put 'em

in that hole you dug?

-You alright, old man?

-Oh, yeah.

Oh, I thought I had him.

Grab an arm.

Brooder,

rouse Doc Taylor.

Put coffee in him

if he's liquored.

It's supposed to be elevated

above your heart.

Is this why you buy

so many pillows?

I buy pillows because

they're pretty.

This isn't comfortable.

Well, it's not supposed to be.

So it's correct.

How does it look?

The same.

You know, once the

hellish burnin' stops

feels almost nice. Thank you.

You are very welcome.

You're takin' good care of me.

Anything I can do for you?

Yes.

Would you read this out loud?

It's the poem that you

wrote in Wyoming.

Oh, it ain't a poem.

It's just some things I was

thinking and some emotions.

Would you read it to me?

Well...

Feel stupid if I

read it out loud.

It will not. It's beautiful.

Whenever I was alone

I would read it

and I would feel better.

Please?

I can't think of a

polite way out of this.

- That's because there isn't--

What time is it?

- Half past ten.

Mr. and Mrs. O'Dwyer.

It's John Brooder.

I'm here regarding

a medical matter.

Good evening, Mrs. O'Dwyer.

Are you hurt?

Oh, I'm not the injured

party, there was...

A drifter that got quick

with the sheriff.

Shot in the leg?

Shot in the leg.

And, Doc Taylor's in his cups?

Rate this script:4.0 / 1 vote