FADE IN:

EXT. TEXAS PRAIRIE – DAWN
Morning mist clings to the grass.
A lone rider emerges.

TITLE CARD: THE RIGHT LEAN

An OLD MAN.

A weathered derby.

A faded poncho.

Long gray hair.

A Winchester rests in the saddle scabbard.

Twin Colts ride low on his hips.

Behind him…

A stubborn mule strains under two heavy saddlebags.

Every step is work.

The old man glances back.

Satisfied.

He rides on.

CUT TO:

INT. FEDERAL BUILDING – WASHINGTON, D.C. – DAY (1896)
Ink scratches across paper.
Telegraphs click.
Clerks shuffle stacks of files.
A map of Texas hangs on the wall.
A finger lands on it.

TEXAS.

A leather file sits on the desk.

MARSHAL CHARLES “IRONHEELS” LAWRENCE III (40s) is tall, lean, and immaculately dressed, wearing a black Stetson, tailored frock coat, polished riding boots with silver spurs, and twin ivory-gripped Colt Peacemakers in carved Mexican-loop holsters. Nothing about him is flashy. Everything about him is precise.

He opens the file.

One photograph.

An old man in a derby.

One name.

RAYMOND “GATOR RAY” DUPREE.

Lawrence closes the file.

CUT TO:

EXT. UNION STATION – DAY

Steam hisses.

Porters load baggage.

A private Pullman waits at the rear of a westbound express.

Lawrence boards.

The conductor tips his hat.

CONDUCTOR
Houston?

LAWRENCE
Houston.

The locomotive SCREAMS.
Steel begins to turn.

A CAMERAMAN unfolds his tripod.

CAMERAMAN
A portrait, Marshal Lawrence?

Reporters crowd forward.

Lawrence turns.

Poses.

The camera FLASHES.

2ND REPORTER
Marshal Lawrence!
Is it true they call him
Gator Ray?

LAWRENCE
I have heard that appellation
applied to Mr. Dupree.
(beat)
It changes nothing.
He is a dangerous outlaw.
He will answer before the law.

3RD REPORTER
Do you expect to apprehend him?

LAWRENCE
I expect to find him.

Lawrence boards the Pullman.

The locomotive SCREAMS.

Washington disappears into steam.

CUT TO:

EXT. BAJA CALIFORNIA – RIDGE ABOVE A POOR VILLAGE – DAY
Harsh sunlight beats down on the dry hills. Below lies a poor village — cracked adobe, a bone-dry riverbed, and people moving slowly in the heat.

GENERAL TOMÁS MONTOYA (30s) sits motionless on his fine horse at the crest of the ridge, staring down at the village. He wears his immaculate would-be general’s uniform: silver-trimmed sombrero, dark cavalry tunic, polished boots, saber at his side.He speaks softly, almost to himself, voice full of grand vision:

MONTOYA
…Viva el agua… Viva la revolución…

A beat of silence.

His CAPTAIN (late 30s), sweaty, dusty, and unshaven, rides up beside him. Fifteen rough riders follow behind.

A gleaming gold tooth flashes as he grins.

CAPTAIN
Ah… another well to dig, Jefe?

MONTOYA
Thirsty men don’t fight as hard, Red Eyes.

Red Eyes laughs, his bloodshot eyes explaining the nickname.

The men dismount and ready their shovels.

Montoya does not turn.

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, but he maintains his dignified pose.

RED EYES
(chuckling)
A revolutionary who builds wells.
Red Eyes spits into the dust.
The wind carries it away.

CUT TO:

EXT. SAN VICENTE CROSSING – RIO GRANDE – DAY
The wide, muddy Rio Grande flows under a brutal sun.

RAYMOND “GATOR RAY” DUPREE (60s) stands knee-deep in the water, weathered derby pushed back, faded poncho dripping. He quietly waters his horse and the heavily loaded mule. The two saddlebags never leave his sight.He cups water, splashes his face, fills his canteen, then murmurs to the mule:

GATOR RAY
Keep drinking, girl.
Long way yet.

CUT TO:

EXT. PULLMAN TRAIN HEADED TO HOUSTON, TEXAS – DAY
IRONHEELS sits at an elegant poker table with two GOVERNMENT GENTLEMEN.

GENTLEMAN #1
Is it true you’re pursuing the notorious Gator Ray, Marshal Lawrence?

IRONHEELS
I am.

A beat.

The gentlemen exchange glances.

GENTLEMAN #2 lays down two aces and two eights.

GENTLEMAN #2
Beat that, Mister Lawrence.

A YOUNG CIGAR BOY appears beside the table.

Ironheels selects a cigar.

The boy strikes a match.

Ironheels studies his cards as the flame dances.

He leans forward.

The cigar glows.

A thin stream of smoke escapes his lips.

CUT TO:

EXT. SOUTH OF SAN VICENTE ON A TRAIL – DAY
GATOR RAY struggles with a hand rolled cigarette that is canoeing.
The cigarette burns down one side.

GATOR RAY
Ow!

He sucks on his finger.

GATOR RAY
Worthless damn thing.