FADE IN:

EXT. WOODS

The Rangers plunge into thick woods. Branches slap at them,

but the sound of gunfire keeps them going. Captain Malcolm

is still in the lead, flanked by two young men who are

obviously brothers. The big, handsome one is COLE YOUNGER;

the skinny one with the lopsided hair is BOB YOUNGER.

EXT. WOOD'S EDGE

They break through the other side of the woods, emerging

behind a rickety set of fence-post fortifications. Instantly

GUNFIRE tears apart the trees around them. The Captain's

horse goes down, and the Younger brothers dive and roll to

hide beneath the palisade.

The Captain, still alive, has fallen beyond the wooden

shield. Cole scrambles through the savage rifle fire, grabs

Captain Malcolm, and hauls him behind the fortification.

CAPTAIN MALCOLM:

(bellowing)

Fall back into the woods! Out of

your saddles before you're shot out

of 'em!

The Rangers leap from their saddles as a new sound starts

-- a dull roar that grows and approaches and BBRRRRAPPPPP

as, unbelievably, trees EXPLODE INTO SPLINTERS and horses

and men go down in a heap!

COLE:

Gatling! They've got a Gatling!

BOB:

Dammit, this stopped being fun

about two years ago!

Some men are crawling to the fortifications, others are

staying in the woods. The Captain pokes his head up to take

a look. With him WE SEE

EXT. ANOTHER HILLSIDE

At the top of which, about a hundred fifty yards off, is a

three man Gatling crew. Squads of Union soldiers are

beginning to make their way down the hillside. And just to

their right is an EIGHT INCH CANNON with a burning fuse --

EXT. FORTIFICATIONS

CAPTAIN MALCOLM:

DOWN!

BOOM! And with a whistle the cannonball TEARS THROUGH the

forest and EXPLODES just behind the Rangers. Some of the men

are screaming from injury and panic.

CAPTAIN MALCOLM (CONT'D)

Cole! Bob! You boys okay?

COLE:

Hell, take more than a cannon to

kill the Younger brothers, sir!

BOB:

I think the cannon's doing a pretty

good job, Cole.

A full-blooded Indian, COMANCHE TOM, crawls up next to them.

COLE:

Some Indian tracker you turned out

to be, Tom.

COMANCHE TOM:

You pay me to find you Bluecoats.

There they are.

ANOTHER ROUND from the Gatling chews up the trees and

fencing, driving their heads down.

CAPTAIN MALCOLM:

They're using the Gatling and the

cannon to cover their advance. We're

pinned unless we take them out!

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