Dead Man

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?