Screen 1

Behind the STEAM ENGINE, on DRAKE and DRUM, as DRUM drops back down, looking to DRAKE.

SHOTS are continuing to ping off the metal crate behind them.

1. DRUM: People do take a powerful dislike to you, Miles.

2. DRAKE: Just my nature, I guess.

3. SFX: spak tk-KOW tnk

On PAYNE, crouched behind his own crate. He’s pulling the SIDE from the crate off, opening it, as he shouts.

4. PAYNE: Marshal!
5. PAYNE: Must we continue this?

6. DRAKE/off: I ain’t in the habit of repeating myself, Mister Payne.

Past PAYNE, crouched, as he removes his TOPCOAT.

Inside the CRATE is a strange-looking APPARATUS of BRASS and LEATHER, a harness of some sort; a GAUGE or TWO attached to it, as well as some small LEVERS.

6. PAYNE: It was the Judge who sold your honor, Marshal, not I.
7. PAYNE: I would think that he should be the object of your ire.

Screen 2
Angle, DRAKE and DRUM, each checking their respective sides of the STEAM ENGINE.

The remaining GUNMEN – if visible – are moving for new position.

1. DRUM/small: Man has a point.

2. DRAKE: Stow it, Keyton.

DRAKE, calling out over the engine.

3. DRAKE: You jaw just to hear yourself, or you taking this somewhere,
Mister Payne?

On PAYNE, now in the harness. He’s pulling a LEVER on one of the STRAPS. Slight grin.

4. PAYNE: Mostly to buy time, Marshal.