Silverado Page #2

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He stops his walking horses and squints out into the distance,

seeing something. We see it too, but just barely: a distant,

horizontal smudge on the glaring sand.

Emmett reaches the smudge. It is a man, barefoot and dressed

only in longjohns, his head propped on a rock, eyes closed.

The man's skin is burned red and beginning to blister, his

lips parched. Yet there is a curious ease to his repose. If

he has lain down here to die, he has done it in peace. This

is PADEN.

Emmett lifts Paden's head and puts the canteen to his lips.

Paden's eyes struggle to open in the glare. He takes a few

sips of the water. His lips crack with a slight smile at the

taste. He looks up at Emmett, takes another sip, and tries

to speak. Emmett must lean down to hear his raspy whisper as

he tries again.

PADEN:

Pleased to meet you.

EXT. NIGHT CAMP - DESERT - NIGHT

The terrain here is more hospitable. Paden, wrapped snugly

in a blanket, lies with his head against the saddle from the

pinto. Emmett is preparing his bedroll across the fire.

EMMETT:

Two of the horses ran off, but that

pinto you're riding hung around.

PADEN:

You got no idea what they were after?

Emmett shakes his head "no".

PADEN:

Offend anybody lately?

EMMETT:

Not for five years.

Paden understands.

PADEN:

Jefferson City?

EMMETT:

No, Leavenworth.

PADEN:

I've never been in there. They just

jumped you out of the blue?

EMMETT:

I had to get up anyway.

PADEN:

(smiles)

Me, I'm riding along, minding my own

business. Four cowboys come by and

we decide to ride together for a

while, friendly as can be. I always

figure you might as well approach

life like everybody's your friend or

nobody is... don't make much

difference. We get out in the middle

of that frying pan and suddenly

everybody's pointing their gun but

me. I guess they admired my horse.

She's a great one, a sweet little

bay.

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