Charlie
You know, Thel. . . I never wanted to go away. I know we said it was, er, it was all over and everything, but. . . you were always in my heart, Thel. Always. I, er, I brought you a. . . Well, it’s a present.
Thel
A present?
Charlie
Well, I, er. . . I’m, I’m going. And, er. . . I’m, I’m sorry, Thel. . . for, er. . . for intruding.
Thel
Well, I never really loved you, anyway. No, Charlie.
Charlie
I never stopped loving you. . .
Thel
Don’t!
Charlie
. . . Thel.
Nobody
(Mumbling). There’s white man’s metal next to your heart. I tried to cut it out, but it’s too deep inside. A knife would cut your heart instead and release the spirit from within. Stupid fucking white man. Do you have any tobacco?
Blake
I don’t smoke.
Nobody
(Ranting in native language).
Twill
Hey, Wilson, you got any extra tobacco? Well, of course you wouldn’t have any extra tobacco. How ’bout you? Shit. You ain’t even old enough to smoke.
Schofield
Mr John Dickinson.
Dickinson
Last night, my youngest son, Charlie, God bless his soul, was gunned down in cold blood right here in our own hotel. The gutless murderer, one Mr Bill Blake, also shot to death Miss Thel Russell, the fiancée of my beloved son. Not only that, but he stole a very spirited and valuable horse, a beautiful young pinto that belonged to my personal family stable.
Twill
A pinto ain’t rightly a horse to fret much about, if the truth be told.
Dickinson
Shut up! You three are supposed to be the finest killers of men and Indians, in this here half of the world. Cole Wilson, your reputation is already a legend. You I know I can trust. Conway Twill, you’re a real good killer, but be sure you keep that goddamn trap shut. And Johnny ‘The Kid’ Pickett. I hear tell you killed fourteen men. I doubt you’ve seen that many years, and I ain’t even gonna tell you what I really think of you.
Wilson
I always work alone.
Twill
Excuse me there, Mr Dickinson, but, er, rightly I never have worked with anyone else, either. I never have.
Pickett
Yeah, m. . . me neither.
Dickinson
Shut up! My boy Charlie is dead! Now, I ain’t asking this time. I’m telling. And if somebody don’t like it, I’m prepared to do a little killing of my own. Now, that bastard couldn’t have got far yet.
Twill
Well, let me just say here, Mr Dickinson, sir, I think we ought to start fresh in the morning. I mean, it’s well after noon now, and by the time we get finished, all packed up. . .
Dickinson
I want him brought here to me. Alive or dead don’t matter, though I reckon dead would be easier. I’m hiring you boys on an exclusive basis, and I’m willing to pay more money then you’ve ever seen before. Boys. . . the hunt is on.
Nobody
(Singing in native language). Stupid fucking white man. (Singing in native language).
Dickinson
I want this out over the wires. Post a five hundred dollar reward from here to hell and back. Notify every marshal, deputy and possum-skinning lowlife in the goddamn territory. Bring everybody in. I want that bastard’s head. And make sure you include a full description of my pinto. I want that horse back.
Twill
Goddamn pinto is a stupid damn animal. Stupid as the day is long. Got himself all up in a twist. He got his heart so set on one. Buy yourself a sorrel horse and paint some white spots on it as far as I’m concerned. Jesus Christ. Of course, you can’t put much stock in a man who spends the most part of a conversation talking to a bear. Talking to a goddamn bear.
Nobody
The round stones beneath the earth, have spoken through the fire.
Blake
What?
Nobody
Things which are alike, in nature, grow to look alike, and the speaking stones have lain a long time looking at the sun.
Blake
The speaking stones?
Nobody
Some believe they descend with the lightening, but I believe they are on the ground and are projected downward by the bolt. Did you kill the white man who killed you?
Blake
I’m not dead.
Nobody
What name were you given at birth, stupid white man?
Blake
Blake. William Blake.
Nobody
Is this a lie? Or a white man’s trick?
Blake
No, I’m William Blake.
Nobody
Then you are a dead man.
Blake
I’m sorry. I don’t, I don’t understand.
Nobody
Is your name really William Blake?
Blake
Yes.
Nobody
‘Every night and every morn, Some to misery are born, Every morn and every night, Some are born to sweet delight, Some are born to sweet delight, some are born to endless night.’
Blake
I really, don’t understand.
Nobody
But I understand, William Blake. You were a poet and a painter. And now, you are a killer of white men. You must rest now, William Blake. ‘Some are born to sweet delight, Some are born to endless night.’
Twill
Making biscuits, Mommy. She’s just staring out of the window. Sweetheart. You didn’t touch it, did you?
Pickett
No.
Twill
You swear to me.
Pickett
I swear.
Twill
Get your hand out, and swear to me you’re telling the truth.
Pickett
Yes, I swear I’m telling the truth.
Twill
Not a goddamn word to no one, ever. You understand? Don’t ever ask me no questions.
Blake
Where are we?
Nobody
You are being followed, William Blake.
Blake
Are you sure? I mean, how do you know?
Nobody
Often the evil stench of white man precedes him.
Blake
Why don’t we, er. . . Maybe we should. . . What should we do?
Nobody
The eagle never lost so much time as when he submitted to learn from the crow.
Twill
Ever wish you were the moon? Jeez, my henry’s cold. Oh, come on. My britches been open like that how long? Only been riding a couple of days together, but Jesus, one of you fellows could’ve mentioned the fact that. . .
Wilson
Unsaddle your goddamn horses.
Twill
Unsaddle your goddamn horse. Go on.
Wilson
An Indian dug this fire pit.
Twill
Oh, an Indian. We ain’t tracking no goddamn Indians, Cole. I mean, er, hell, Dickinson didn’t say nothing about tracking no goddamn Indians. I mean, the boy’s name is William Blake. You know a lot of Indians, do you, named William Blake? I mean, ‘Howdy, Chief. . .’
Wilson
Did you hear something? Huh? Did you? I guess it was nothing.
Twill
You know about Wilson?
Pickett
What?
Twill
Do you know about Cole Wilson?
Pickett
What kind of question is that? Of course I know about Cole Wilson. Everybody knows about him. He’s a living legend.
Twill
Fucked his parents.
Pickett
He what?
Twill
He fucked his parents.
Pickett
Both of them?
Twill
Yeah. Mother. Father. Parents. Both of them. Fucked them.
Pickett
Oh.
Twill
And you know what I heard? After he killed them, he cooked them up and ate them.
Pickett
Are you telling me he killed both his. . .
Twill
I’m telling you he killed them. He fucked them. He cooked them up. He ate them. He ain’t got a goddamn conscience. You understand what I’m saying? He’d just as soon slit our goddamn throats in the middle of the night as walk. Of course, someone your age, Jesus. . . If you was to put one in him, “Johnny ‘The Kid’ Pickett slays Cole Wilson.”
Nobody
William Blake, do you know how to use this weapon?
Blake
Not really.
Nobody
That weapon will replace your tongue. You will learn to speak through it, and your poetry will now be written with blood.
Blake
What is your name?
Nobody
My name is Nobody.
Blake
Excuse me?
Nobody
My name is Exaybachay. He who talks loud, saying nothing.
Blake
He who talks. . . I thought you said your name was Nobody?
Nobody
I prefer to be called Nobody.
Blake
Nobody, erm, shouldn’t you be with your own tribe or something?
Nobody
My blood is mixed. My mother was Ohm-gahpi-phi-gun-ni. My father is Abso-luka. This mixture was not respected. As a small boy, I was often left to myself. So I spent many months stalking the Elk people, to prove I would soon become a good hunter. One day, finally, my Elk relatives took pity on me, and a young Elk gave his life to me. With only my knife, I took his life. As I was preparing to cut the meat, white men came upon me. They were English soldiers. I cut one with my knife, but they hit me on the head with a rifle. All went black. My spirit seemed to leave me. I was taken east, in a cage. I was taken to Toronto, then Philadelphia. And then to New York. And each time I arrived in another city, somehow the white men had moved all their people there ahead of me. Each new city contained the same white people as the last, I could not understand how a whole city of people could be moved so quickly. Eventually, I was taken on a ship, across the great sea, over to England, and I was paraded before them, like a captured animal, an exhibit. And so I mimicked them, imitating their ways, hoping that they might lose interest in this young savage, but their interest only grew. So they placed me into the white man’s schools. It was there that I discovered in a book, the words that you, William Blake, had written. They were powerful words, and they spoke to me. But I made careful plans, and eventually escaped. Once again, I crossed the great ocean. I saw many sad things as I made my way back to the lands of my people. Once they realised who I was, the stories of my adventures angered them. They called me a liar. Exaybachay. He who talks loud, saying nothing. They ridiculed me. My own people. And I was left to wander the earth alone. I am Nobody.
Twill
Ain’t you glad the sun kind of sets? Prepares you like? What if it, like, went out sudden, like blowing out a candle or something? I mean, one minutes we’re riding along, we can see everything and each other and the next minute it’s just. . . You’re in total darkness. That’d scare the bejesus out of me.
Sally
Once upon a time, there were three bears in the forest. A big bear, a medium mummy bear, and a tiny little baby bear. One morning they were going to eat their breakfast porridge. They had a big bowl, a medium bowl, and a tiny little bowl. That porridge was too hot.
Nobody
Stupid white man.
Sally
So they went to take a walk.
Nobody
William Blake, you go to them.
Sally
Along came this girl.
Blake
What? Alone? Why don’t we just go around them?
Nobody
No! You go. It’s a test.
Blake
I don’t know those people, and they don’t look very friendly. What if they kill me?
Nobody
Nobody will observe.
Sally
She went into their bedroom. There was the big bed, medium bed. . .
Blake
All right. I’ll go. I’d rather not, but I’ll go.
Sally
The bears got home. Papa said, “Somebody here ate all our porridge”.
Blake
What’s the best way to get down there?
Nobody
Be quiet and go.
Blake
All right.
Sally
And he tore her head off her body. He took that golden hair and he made a sweater for baby bear.
George
That’s terrible.
Sally
Tonight we’re reminded of the evil emperor Nero Augustus. He was the scourge of all the Christians.
George
What’s a scourge?
Sally
It’s like when something real bad happens. Like when everybody gets killed and you can’t do anything about it. Like a swarm of locusts. For the entertainment of his guests, Nero would illuminate his whole garden with bodies of live Christians covered in burning oil, strung up on flaming crosses, crucified. And at dinner, he would have the Christians rubbed by his guards with aromatic herbs and garlic, and sewn up into sacks, And then they’d throw these sacks to the wild dogs.
George
Well, that’s terrible.
Sally
It’s horrible.
George
Terrible’s what it is. You know, I just, I can’t drink whiskey like I used to could. My old belly just ain’t no account. I get the shits every time, don’t you know?
Sally
I’m sorry, Big George. I got some food here that even Goldilocks never tasted. I think this is gonna fix up your old gut.
Benmont
These beans are shit.
George
Why don’t you shut your goddamn trap and just eat your beans?
Sally
Them are. . . There’s possum in these beans, and spices, too. I tried hard.
George
Well, Sally, I don’t give a pig’s ass what anybody says. I still say you make a hell of a pot of beans. Now, why don’t you say us a grace out of the Good Book, would you?
Sally
Thank you, Big George. I’d be delighted to do that. ‘This day will the Lord deliver thee into mine hand, and I will smite thee, and take thine head from thee, and I will give the carcasses of the host of the Philistines this day unto the fowls of the air and to the wild beasts of the earth.’ Amen.
George
Amen.
Benmont
Amen.
George
What’s a Philistine?
Sally
Well, it’s just a real dirty person.
Blake
Hello. I. . . smelt. . . beans.
Benmont
Who are you traveling with?
Blake
I’m with Nobody.
