(The police-station interrogation room. The outlaw, LUTHER HARLOW, confesses.)

LUTHER HARLOW
You want me to talk?
I’ll talk. I’ll hang no matter what I say.
But you should know I suffered a blow.
I hit my head hard enough
to blur
the edges of remembering.
Half way to Fossil Mine,
I look up.
I see a man leading a girl on a horse,
making their way towards me.
Strangers.

(The man and woman appear in his memory.)

Out of place in these parts,
A breeze blows up,
the girl’s hat flies off—
Her face—
Her eyes—
I wanted her.
There. And then.

“Greetings,” I call out.
“There’s a grove
beyond the entrance to the mine,
where folks buried a small fortune.
Moonstones, silver,
pretty trinkets for the lady.”

The girl’s eyes are far away.

“The trove,” I keep on.
“I could use some help digging it up.
Just a few steps out of your way.”

The man nods,
but the girl isn’t sold.

LEONA
“Ambrose—”

LUTHER
She urges them on.

LEONA
“Ambrose, let’s go.”

LUTHER
Down the road.

LEONA
“Ambrose—”

LUTHER
She tries again.

LEONA
“Ambrose, no.”

LUTHER
She isn’t sold.

AMBROSE
“Why not?
What’s the harm in looking?”

LUTHER
She sighs.
He just nods at me.
And we head towards
the blackened husks of fir
beyond the ridge—

But as we approach the turnoff
to the grove, she pulls on the reins.

LEONA
“I’m not going in there.”

LUTHER
She says.

LEONA
“You go. I’ll wait.”

LUTHER
The mare roots and shies.

AMBROSE
“I can’t leave you here, alone.
It’s not safe.”

LUTHER
He insists. The girl holds her ground:

LEONA
“You think it’s safe
to follow god knows who—?”

AMBROSE
“I just want to give you something—”

LEONA
“How do you know that he’s telling the truth?”

AMBROSE
“I just want to give you something—
I just want to give you something
beautiful.”

LEONA
“Just go.”

LUTHER
“Come, through here,” I say.
“The treasure awaits.”

He turns from her,
he takes my bait,
follows me in,
leaving her there, alone—
As we go crashing through the thicket
and into the grove.

(As LEONA waits, LUTHER seizes AMBROSE. They tussle.)

AMBROSE
“No! Please! I—” (under his breath) “My heart—”

(LUTHER ties AMBROSE with a rope to a tree and gags him with fallen leaves. LUTHER returns to LEONA, waiting, alone, humming to herself to shut out her fear.)

LEONA
“Ambrose!? No!”

LUTHER
She’d followed us in.

LEONA
“What have you done to him?”

(LEONA draws a knife and slashes at LUTHER.)

LUTHER
She lunges at me with a knife.
I knock the weapon from her hand.

(She tries to tackle him.)

The girl is wild, fierce, lit.
Overcome,
I throw her in the brush—
blistered by
her burning eyes,
the heat of her,
the glare of her disgust,
as sharp as desire.
I don’t know how or when—
She slips from my hold,
disappears straight out from under me,
leaving me like a pile of dirt on the ground.

(LEONA picks up a stone and flings it at LUTHER.)

A rock cracks against my skull.
Blinding, shooting pain.
Blackness.

When I can see again—sky spinning,
lights flashing—
she’s slashing at his ropes,
slapping the fallen blade into his freed palm.
I pull myself up, unsteady. I stand.
She murmurs something
too quiet for me to hear.

LEONA
“Ambrose, please do something.
Please, Ambrose, why don’t you
do something?”

LUTHER
He pales, then he thrusts at me.

(As they fight, LEONA grabs the rifle, aiming it at the brawling men.)

Still stunned— The blow—
I am not myself.
The trees tilt.
The man holds his own.
The girl, she—
Picks up the gun, aiming it at us both.
She picks up the gun.
She picks up the gun and—

(LEONA points the gun into the sky and shoots. As AMBROSE turns towards her, confused as to whether he’s been shot [he hasn’t], LUTHER stabs him. AMBROSE collapses. LUTHER looks up. LEONA is gone.)

The grove, as quiet as the grave,
save for the gasps of the dying man,
the rifle left lying on the moss.
I took the gun and fled.
Found the mare on the road.
The rest you know.
I’m as good as dead.
Might as well tell the truth.
I killed him. I snuffed him out.

The girl—?
How should I know where she’s gone?