MOONSHINE COUNTY

SCREENPLAY BY

JARED BATTAGLIA

EXT. RURAL KENTUCKY - DAYBREAK

Miles of sun-soaked hill country unfold across the horizon. Specked with drought battered farmland, sawmills and coal mines. Welcome to Moonshine Country, late-1950s.

EXT. BOURBON COUNTY - ESTABLISHING

A hardscrabble community built against the backdrop of Civil War battlefields where bootlegger blood runs deep. The kind of place dreams get pissed on.

Locals made up of farmers and mill workers, impoverished yet industrious Appalachian mountain people. Uneducated but self-sufficient, descended mostly from Scots-Irish Protestant blood.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - EARLY MORNING

Sirens blast in the distance. Rusty car carcasses sunk into tall weeds litter the roadside. Construction cranes raze condemned flop houses against an abandoned rail yard in the foreground.

EXT. SHOTGUN HOME - SIMULTANEOUS

A house in disrepair, busted screens hang off paint warped windows. An ELDERLY MAN with a snowy beard stands at the porch in a broken down hat.

His cataract clouded eyes and sallow face watches a jet black STANDARD FORD COUPE race by at a breakneck pace. Its engine roaring, cutting through clouds of dust like a mad bull.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - REVERSE ANGLE

Two Police Cars rip into view, scattering up gravel in their wake. In pursuit of this souped-up coupe as it blows past a faded stop sign.

INT. FORD COUPE - MOVING

Behind the wheel, a YOUNG DRIVER in a soiled wife beater, jams his boot down on the gas pedal. A lit cigarette dangles off his lips.

DRIVER Come on. Come on...

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

He checks his rearview. A Police Car charges off a side road into frame, swerving back and forth behind him.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - CONTINUOUS

The Driver speeds up like a jet-propelled demon. Crashes through a railroad crossing, smashing the wooden barrier into pieces as it zooms over rusty tracks.

INT. FORD COUPE - DRIVER POV

Ahead, a police barricade is setup in the road. The Driver shakes his head and holds the wheel tight.

EXT./INT. FORD COUPE - FAST MOVING

The Driver spins his wheel and makes a hard turn, fishtailing onto a dusty side road, shifts gears and rips through a barb wired fence, pedal to the metal.

EXT. ROADWAY - CONTINUOUS

Dust whirls haze the air. The Ford Coupe reappears, hard turns into a cotton field and rockets ahead onto a wood bridge over swelling headwaters from a muddy river below.

INT. FORD COUPE - FAST MOVING

The Driver glances in his rearview mirror. A devil-may- care smile. As Two Police Cars blast off the bridge after him, rattling across the rutted road.

EXT. BACK ROADS - CONTINUOUS

The Ford Coupe burns tire ahead. Breaks through a construction barrier. Leaps over a ditch and crash lands onto another drag.

Right when a Police Car spins out of control and tumbles into slow water below.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - SIMULTANEOUS

An old Chevy Pick-up Truck crests a hill, driving through the rolling countryside.

EXT. COUNTRY CROSSROAD

The Ford Coupe hurtles back into frame on an unpaved road and swerves into a gauntlet of Police Cars, narrowly avoiding the oncoming Pick-Up Truck.

A COP CAR violently broadsides the Ford Coupe, ramming it into a drainage ditch.

INT. FORD COUPE

Windshield explodes. The Driver’s head smacks the dashboard. The car overturns. Crack! Blood spits out his nose. Smears the wheel, chewing up shattered glass.

EXT. COUNTRY CROSSROAD

Two Cop Cars clash in the air. Hit the ground upside down. Rattle and rolling into mangled metal.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - TOP SHOT

The Pickup Truck dodges past piles of smashed wreckage, safely swiping onto a dust-encrusted road.

PAPPY (O.C.) God damn, devil drivers.

INT. PICK-UP TRUCK - MOVING

PAPPY THOMPSON drives hands tight on the wheel. Rough- hewn average-framed man. Long beard, wears a raggedy button-up patchwork shirt.

PAPPY Try and earn a decent living for once in your life.

LISBETH That was crazy!

His angel-faced daughter LISBETH (14), bouncy curls of strawberry-blonde curly hair, sits next to him and flips her eyes back at the crash.

LISBETH (CONT'D) Jacob, almost just got killed! Aren’t you gonna say somethin’?!

She looks at her brother, JACOB THOMPSON, 20, tucked in the backseat.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

Quietly reserved, kind of face that gets mistaken for a choir boy but shouldn’t. Pale blue eyes, Rockabilly hair. Some stubble on his sunburnt face.

JACOB Don’t be a priss, Lizard.

Lisbeth’s eyes widen in protest.

LISBETH I’m not a priss!

Pappy locks eyes on Jacob in the rearview mirror.

PAPPY Watch it now.

She shakes her finger at Jacob.

LISBETH Yeah. Watch it now.

Jacob reaches out, grabs Lisbeth’s finger and twists it back playfully. Lisbeth screams and finally lurches her hand away.

LISBETH (CONT'D) Oh, you’re gonna get it...

INT. TABERNACLE - SHORT TIME LATER

At the foot of the hills stands a turn-of-the century rural Pentecostal Church going to seed. A cheap-plastic cross stuck in a plot of dead-weeds, Jesus Saves lit with phosphorescent letters.

INT. TABERNACLE - NAVE

Jacob sits rigidly at the edge of a pew sprinkled with downtrodden parishioners. Well-worn shirt, copper-colored slacks and rough shoes.

The enlivened PASTOR stands at the pulpit, adjusts his reading glasses and addresses the small congregation with strong command.

THE PASTOR ...And he said the thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy but I have come that they may have life and have it to the full...

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

Jacob's eyes drift ahead, rapt on a local girl, SADIE RATHBONE (17) clutching a hymn book up front in a chartreuse dress. A pleasant-faced beauty with striking eyes. Said to have a bit of Cherokee in her.

Jacob takes her in. Hair long, profile delicate. She can feel his stare, Sadie slowly turns and gazes back at Jacob. Anxious, Jacob redirects his eyes at the pulpit.

EXT./INT. THOMPSON & SON SERVICE SHOP - LATER

The shop name is scripted on the side of the building in faded paint. Rundown filling station cluttered with junk parts. Roof is falling in. There’s dirt on the floor.

Garage Doors flung open wide in defense against a brutal heat waging an assault on Bourbon County this summer.

Jacob sedulously works side-by-side with Pappy on a Kaiser car badly in need of repair. Father and son have always bonded over mechanics. It’s the lifeblood of their relationship.

Pappy shambles around the car with a limp, on account of his knee being riddled in pieces of Japanese shrapnel leftover from the war. Former World War II jet mechanic, taught his son everything he knows about how to build and juice up engines.

PAPPY Gonna have to do these adjustments twice.

He looks at his son, cleans oil off his work-thickened hands with a rag.

JACOB Old Jasper keeps letting it overheat sitting outside his house all damn day.

Jacob wipes sweat off his forehead against the sleeve of his coveralls, unable to hide his frustration.

PAPPY He’s out of work. Business is slow, gotta keep the lights on. Need all the customers we can get. We look out for each other in Bourbon. Way it’s always been.

JACOB No one’s looking out for us. Eisenhower sure ain’t.

EXT. THOMPSON HOME - SOON AFTER

Jacob hustles up the porch steps of his family’s tar paper house which hangs behind the shop surrounded by steep woods sloping down from the lush mountainside.

INT. THOMPSON HOME - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

Lisbeth leans by the doorway mixing a heap of biscuit dough. She flips a look at Jacob as he enters.

LISBETH No hot water again.

JACOB Can’t do nothing about it today.

Lisbeth bites her lower lip.

LISBETH Jacob, we been living off corn bread and beans the last month.

JACOB Folks always got it worse, Lizard.

LISBETH Can’t get much worse than this.

Jacob gives her a reassuring smile.

JACOB I’ll figure something out.

EXT. THOMPSON HOME - LATER

Pappy rests against a tree drowsed in shade, takes a long pull from his flask. Exhales then finishes off the rest.

EXT. THOMPSON HOME - LATER

Jacob raises an ax over his head in the hot sun and splits a piece of wood against a white oak stump next to wheelbarrow loaded with firewood.

INT. KITCHEN - SAME TIME

Lisbeth washes a bowl of turnips, eyes drift outside to a scattering of pine trees. Sees Pappy pour more whiskey into his flask.

INT. UPSTAIRS BEDROOM - NIGHT

Jacob picks off a dingy stuffed poodle from the top of a bureau. An old photograph is taped to the mirror, shows his parents in their twenties before the war.

LISBETH He’s always drinking. That’s why no one brings their cars anymore.

JACOB Hush.

Jacob sits at the edge of the mattress, places the stuffed poodle in her arms.

LISBETH You think I’m too old for this thing?

JACOB I mean, you’ll always be a big baby.

Lisbeth whacks his arm with the stuffed poodle, giggles and turns her sleepy eyes towards the window.

LISBETH You gonna be okay by yourself with daddy when I move to Louisville?

JACOB Yeah. I’ll be all right. But you still got time. Get some rest.

Jacob stands up. Right before he gets to the door --

LISBETH Hey Jacob, where you go at night? See ya sometimes from my window, slip out the garage in your coupe with the lights off.

JACOB Must be dreaming. I’m always right next door in my room.

From the expression on Lisbeth’s face she believes it.

INT. SERVICE STATION - SERIES OF DISSOLVES

The sky grows dark. Jacob meticulously works under the hood of a midnight black V-8 valve ‘51 FORD COUPE with a Cadillac engine.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

The beast is an impressive display of horse power and aerodynamics capable of reaching 140 mph speeds.

EXT. BOURBON COUNTY - LATE NIGHT

The Ford Coupe rockets down a winding country road, hurtling into dead darkness.

EXT. RAIL YARD - NIGHT

Headlights shine over swarms of YOUNG LOCALS gathered at this clandestine drag race. Mix crowd of good old boys and country girls from surrounding towns, taking side bets on a fresh crop of drivers.

They sit on hoods of beat-up trucks, smoking, drinking and ready to catch a new driver gaining fans for his lead- foot prowess.

INT. JACOB'S COUPE

Jacob steers his nitro-fueled FORD COUPE into lines of cars. Raucous bystanders cheer, smacking his car windows in anticipation. He keeps a steady eye on the road, uneasy with attention.

EXT. FREIGHT YARDS

At the start line, Jacob pops a cigarette in his mouth, lights and fires up his high-horsepower engine. Right as, a gun shot blasts the air and the drivers take off.

INT. JACOB'S COUPE

Jacob's quiet reserve switches to steely confidence as the cars lunge forward onto the strip side-by-side.

He quickly bang shifts and drives with one-hand like a bat out of hell. Endorphins pumped, buzzing on adrenaline as a Freight Train appears, chugging on the track alongside the cars.

EXT. FREIGHT YARDS

The Coupe speeds up, spitting dirt across the road surface -- burns tire for a half-mile down the fog-choked drag, bullet-like along the rails.

All of a sudden, an avalanche of scrap iron tumbles onto the road from the passing Freight Train. Clang! Clang!

INT. JACOB'S COUPE

Sparks fly as Jacob swerves to avoid pieces of scrap iron shooting out in front of his car, blasting ahead of the other car with astonishing efficiency.

The crowd roars with excitement. The Coupe blazes ahead and crosses the finish line.

EXT. FREIGHT YARDS - SOON AFTER

Afterwards, Jacob tucks a wad of bills into his back pocket and makes his way through the liven crowd. All of a sudden, a YOUNG MAN sneaks up behind him and pounces on his back, slides off and puts Jacob in a choke hold.

MICKEY (gleefully) Jake Thompson! What a show-off!

Jacob breaks free and bucks him off. He flips around to find MICKEY CRAIG (20s), standing by in a leather bomber jacket with a big shit-eating grin streaked across his face. Sandy-haired. Merry of face with roguish charm and an air of careless abandon.

JACOB Mickey, been some time.

Mickey grabs Jacob and picks him up in a mighty bear hug.

MICKEY Some time?! By Jacks, been years son!

He drops Jacob back on his feet.

MICKEY (CONT'D) What you doing out here? You gone country?

Jacob half-smiles.

JACOB Always been country.

Mickey nods, slaps his arm.

MICKEY Jes' giving you shit. But O’ Lawd, I saw you race, you becoming one helluva fella! What's your secret?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

JACOB Faster the tires spin, faster I go. ‘Suppose, if you wanna call that a secret.

Mickey breaks grin.

MICKEY I’ll take it! Let’s go get a bite. Catch up.

JACOB. Can't. Gotta get back home.

Mickey pops an eyebrow.

MICKEY Oh, have a girl waiting on you?

JACOB Nope.

MICKEY Then come on, let’s get a bite!

INT. SHORTY’S BRICK PIT BBQ - LATER THAT NIGHT

A mom and pop on its very last legs. Jacob and Mickey sit across from each other in a tattered vinyl red booth. The waitress, Sadie from church, hair back in a pink apron dress, heads over to their table with two hot plates of briskets and collared greens on a plastic tray.

SADIE Dig in boys, got two briskets here and cokes.

She looks over at Jacob. He acknowledges her with a shy smile. Mickey picks his brisket sandwich off the plate and starts eating.

JACOB Thank you, ma’m.

Mickey checks her name pin.

MICKEY (mouthful) Miss Sadie, this is good eating.

Sadie nods, Mickey seems to make her a little bit uneasy.

SADIE A’right, lemme know if you need anything else.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

MICKEY Will do, hon’.

She turns, smiles and heads back behind the counter. A cheeky grin creeps across Mickey’s face.

MICKEY (CONT'D) (to Jacob) You got it bad for that girl.

Jacob makes a face.

JACOB Don’t even know her.

MICKEY Good looking. Nice smile, pearly white teeth. But she’s the Sheriff’s daughter.

Mickey wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

MICKEY (CONT'D) Pickin’ up a lot of money racin’?

Jacob shrugs, greasy sandwich in both hands.

JACOB Few bucks, here and there.

Mickey’s eyes Sadie as she attends to a row of customers at the counter. He leans forward, conspiratorial.

MICKEY See a girl like that? Takes money to get a girl like her. Even more to keep her around. They like nice things, like to be taken out. So, what if I said I got a proposal for you, bit of a job prospect, could say...

JACOB. Already got a job. Work at the shop with my daddy.

MICKEY Could be a part-time thing. Some extra income to line your pockets, help keep your pop’s shop up. Talking bout the kind of job pays real money to talented drivers like you.

Jacob sits back, studies Mickey for a moment.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (2)

JACOB What would that be?

Mickey lowers his voice, taps his knuckles on the table.

MICKEY ‘Shine.

JACOB Don’t want nothing to do with it.

MICKEY A’right, a’right I git it. Got a bad rap. But there’s big opportunities for newcomers like you, Jake.

JACOB Just not interested, Mickey. All there is to it.

Mickey nods his head.

MICKEY Hear me out, been leading a team of whiskey drivers for my uncle Dean Turner.

JACOB I’ve heard his name.

MICKEY They call him the Baron of Moonshine in Bourbon. Been doing it bout a year. Going well but our top driver got pinched with a trunk full of shine. Got too cocky. Could really use your talents, Jacob. We’re starting up the season. Work from spring ‘til leaves fall off the trees and blow our cover. That’s when we take down the still.

JACOB Can’t do it, Mickey.

MICKEY One run. I’ll pay more than you’d ever get at any drag race. Just need to transport some whiskey from Bourbon to the outskirts of Louisville. You’d be unstoppable with that souped up car yours.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (3)

JACOB Like I said, already got a job.

Mickey leans back, takes a breath. After a beat --

MICKEY Jacob, my boys are making serious fistfuls of cash. Know yo' family could use help. Guys like us? We know these roads. Can outrun the law, trust me we du it ever' time.

Sadie smiles at Jacob from the counter. Mickey notices and locks eyes with him.

MICKEY (CONT'D) See the way you look at that waitress, Jacob. You jus’ plumb charmed. You could have her. Jus’ gimme a chance. One run.

A long silence.

JACOB Lemme think it over.

MICKEY Get your ass out of church an' you’ll learn it feels good to have a lil’ money in your pocket. Cash on the spot. Running white liquor down mountain roads at ninety miles an hour. That’s easy money for a driver like you, Jacob.

Jacob crosses his arms.

JACOB Won’t say a word about it to no one?

Mickey shakes his head.

MICKEY Not one word.

INT. RATHBONE HOME - LIVING ROOM - NEXT DAY

SHERIFF RATHBONE, a tall, broad tree of a man with shit- kicker boots and greying hair against a roughly hewn armchair. A mixed-breed lays at his feet.

The Pastor, a pot-bellied LOCAL OFFICIAL and a pasty- faced DEPUTY are gathered around him on split-bottom chairs by a coal-burning fireplace. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

LOCAL OFFICIAL Can't turn a blind eye to this any more, Sheriff. Need to take action. Being made fools of by the Turners and I got re-election coming.

Sheriff Rathbone narrows his eyes, packs tobacco shreds into a pipe.

SHERIFF RATHBONE Your election is the last thing on my care list, Coyne.

LOCAL OFFICIAL Stunt that Keller kid pulled caused thousands of dollars in damage to public property.

Sheriff Rathbone clenches his pipe stem to his teeth, lights a match to it and takes a puff.

SHERIFF RATHBONE Also put two of my men in the hospital. Doubtful they’ll walk right again, legs crippled bad as they are. Moon shiners gotta be dealt with.

The Pastor wipes his brow with a handkerchief.

THE PASTOR Need to reach out to the Revenuers. They’ve brought God’s justice to the other counties. Get this devil sauce Dean Turner and his kinfolk been providing out of these hills.

SHERIFF RATHBONE At a price. Feds are risky business. We handle our own in Bourbon.

LOCAL OFFICIAL Let em’ get it done. Best for everyone. Have Uncle Sam carry the weight of our problem on his shoulders. Done all you can.

Sheriff Rathbone empties his pipe in an ashtray. Considers the proposal.

INT. THOMPSON HOME - KITCHEN - NEXT DAY

Jacob places a stack of cash on the kitchen table next to Pappy seated in a cane-bottomed chair peeling an onion with a bending pocket knife.

JACOB Last month’s utilities.

Jacob grabs a glass from a cabinet, sticks it under the faucet and has a drink of water.

PAPPY Where’d you get this money Jacob?

Pappy stares down at the billfold, pops a slice of onion between his teeth and chews in the corner of his mouth with a silent grimace.

JACOB Raced my car an' won.

PAPPY Don’t want it.

Thrown, Jacob glances back at him.

JACOB What do you mean? We can barely eke out a living at the shop. Jes’ take it, get the bank off our ass.

PAPPY We put our trust in the Lord an' we deal with what we’re given.

JACOB Well, He hasn’t been giving us much lately so I’m doing something about it.

Pappy slams his fist against the kitchen table.

PAPPY Won’t be living under my roof much longer if racing is how you gonna be spending your nights.

Jacob straightens defiant.

JACOB I’m damn good at it.

PAPPY I need you up helping me in the garage everyday at dawn.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

JACOB I’m always there. And you know it.

Lisbeth steps into the room, shoots a look at Jacob and her father.

LISBETH Will you two stop going at it?

PAPPY I’ll be in the garage.

Pappy rises from his chair and leaves the room. Lisbeth glances back at Jacob, sees money on the table.

LISBETH Heck was that about?

Jacob picks the cash off and puts it in her hands.

JACOB Order some vegetables and groceries from Ms. Bartholomew. We gonna start having real meals around this house.

Jacob brushes past, leaves through the kitchen side-door.

EXT. SERVICE STATION - LATER

Harsh sun beats off the hood of Jacob's Coupe parked outside. Jacob walks out of the house, looks up and sees his father, polishing off the side of his car.

PAPPY Jacob, I don’t want you losing sight of your future.

JACOB I’m trying to help this family.

They both stare off at the dirt road as a flat bed truck rattles by, packed with soot-covered MINE WORKERS. Pappy points at the truck.

PAPPY See em’? Didn’t want my son to grow up to be a coal face. You work in the shop. That’s how you help us.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

JACOB Racing ain’t gonna change that. Town knows no one takes care of cars better than us. Just don’t wanna see Lisbeth suffer anymore.

PAPPY I’ve been going cross county all spring trying to drum up business. This shop is keeping us out of the mines. Now I’ve said my piece an' that’s all there is to say.

Pappy heads back into the garage.

INT. SERVICE STATION - TIME CUT

Jacob modifies his engine from acquired junk yard parts to make his car run even faster. Mixes more nitro into the tank, adds additional carburetors and bigger pistons to build a more powerful engine.

INT. JACOB'S COUPE

Jacob jerks the ignition and fires his COUPE up, roaring back to life.

EXT. REDBONE RIDGE - ESTABLISHING

Jacob's Coupe follows Mickey’s Gasser onto an old wagon trail, parking their cars behind thickets of brush.

EXT. BACKWOODS - NIGHT FALL

Jacob and Mickey trawl on foot through dense forest, down a rocky trail en route to a well-hidden moonshine still beneath a grove of great trees. Equipped with a warning system strings of barbed wire and trenches.

EXT. DISTILLERY

The pair move into the tree shrouded whiskey operation lined in copper stills slicked with evening dew.

MICKEY An' this here’s our little operation...

Mickey smiles, opens his arms up to their surroundings. Jacob scans his eyes around and takes inventory of everything around them. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

JACOB Never seen anything like it.

MICKEY Something ain’t it?

In the brush, tall wooden mash boxes hold fermenting corn kernels. Water passes through flake stands into steel vats lined up where fruit soaks in liquor for a mellower taste. Along the perimeter, sugar sacks and canning jars of steamer moonshine await retrieval. Even more clear whiskey is hidden under lumber and in cotton sacks.

JACOB Don’t you worry someone might find it?

Jacob digests the scenery before his eyes.

MICKEY If they do, we start a new one. Always one step ahead of the law. Now, lemme getcha a sample.

JACOB I’m a’right.

MICKEY Know you’re a’right but you gotta taste dis.

Mickey moves to a crate packed with empty mason jars and pops one open, dips it into the sweet mash and hands the brew to Jacob.

MICKEY (CONT'D) Drink up.

Jacob takes a sip and winces hard, the moonshine hits like a bucket of hammers.

JACOB Damn, Mickey.

Mickey smirks, starts picking off blackberries from a tree branch and eating.

MICKEY That’ll make the hair stand up on yer head. One-hundred proof. Potent ain’t it? Most high quality product in the region.

All of a sudden, Mickey steadies his hand on a heavy pistol tucked in his belt. Hears the sound of foot steps coming closer, twigs snapping and branches breaking. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (2)

Jacob throws a quick glance, tenses up. THREE FIGURES emerge from a shroud of chestnut trees carrying pounds of sugar. Two scruffy-faced rough-hewn men in patched ragged overalls with a younger bony boy.

MICKEY (CONT'D) An' now lemme innerduce the boys. These are my moonshine drivers.

He points everyone out, starts with BYRON MCTEAGUE (28) crew’s muscle. Hard-bitten, hot-headed local heavy with sleeves of tattoos covering his hulking arms and a watchdog at his side.

MICKEY (CONT'D) Byron McTeague, got a bad temper but love ever' inch of that hard- headed hillbilly.

Byron rolls his eyes, mean mugs Jacob.

BYRON Stop flirting, Mick.

MICKEY Next, got Skillet.

SKILLET DRISKILL looks over, African-American, bad eye that doesn’t slow him down behind the wheel. Strong and reliable, squirrel gun over his shoulder.

MICKEY (CONT'D) Gives us a direct link to our segregated neighbors in Bourbon.

FROG MCTEAGUE (15) a freckled-face, rail thin boy appears next to Byron, wears a brown snake around his neck and anxious to please. Rat tail runs down his back. Barefoot in dirty overalls where he keeps a .30 pistol tucked.

MICKEY (CONT'D) An' that critter there is Byron’s brother Frog, warns us when the police are close. Plus, kid knows how to roll tobacco like no other.

Skillet regards Jacob.

SKILLET An' who’s your new friend, Mickey?

MICKEY Oh, Jacob? Jacob ain’t a new friend. He’s my oldest friend.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (3)

Mickey smiles big. The Whiskey Drivers study Jacob with distrustful stares.

BYRON Said you know him frum where?

MICKEY This is Jacob Thompson! Heck, we used to play Indian wars right here in these woods as younguns.

Byron gives Jacob a rotten look.

BYRON He look soft.

MICKEY No need to be rude, Byron.

BYRON Don’t trust soft men.

Byron spits out a rope of tobacco juice and phlegm on the ground by Jacob's feet. Mickey shakes his head.

MICKEY Jacob, excuse Byron. Just likes quibbling.

Jacob steadies his gaze on Byron. Skillet studies Jacob.

SKILLET You the one racing at the rail yard, right?

Jacob nods.

JACOB Done it a couple times.

SKILLET Heard you’re fast.

JACOB Do okay.

Mickey chuckles, slings his arm over Jacob.

MICKEY Okay? Kid’s a monster on the road.

Jacob averts his eyes, takes a breath. After a beat --

JACOB I can't get caught, Mickey. Can’t go to jail.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (4)

MICKEY No one’s goin’ to jail. Tole ya, police won’t outrun you. You’re fast, Jacob. Whole life’s gonna change. All you gotta do is drive.

Mickey pats him on the back.

JACOB Mean, could give it one run, goes a’right.

MICKEY Attaboy! Simple, jus' like a milk run. We get the shine in the hands of Dean Turner’s pick-up men an' onto market. No one gets hurt. Now les get the white lightnin’ in yer car for that inaugural run.

Mickey’s eyebrows go up, smiles big. TIME CUT the Drivers carry whiskey jugs and crates of mason jars, packing them tightly into the stripped backs of their Ford Coupes.

On his way, Jacob trips on a thick root and a half-dozen mason jars go shattering out of his crate.

BYRON Hell, ain’t that a bite.

MICKEY Manners.

Byron wheels back fist up, goads Jacob then fakes him out. He titters, cocks a look back at Mickey.

BYRON Gawd damn church boy.

Mickey draws out a pistol tucked in his belt and points it at Byron, right between the eyes.

MICKEY Need I remind you this ain’t no democracy?

Byron stares down the gun barrel. Mickey slowly tucks his gun back behind his belt, jerks his head around.

MICKEY (CONT'D) Les get back to work.

Byron shakes his head.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (5)

BYRON Yeah, real tough Mickey, havin’ an uncle like Elder Dean Turner.

MICKEY Keep that hillbilly mouth shut.

EXT. BACK ROAD - TIME CUTS

Mickey and Jacob remove the backseat from his Ford Coupe. Skillet, Byron and Frog finish loading jars of high-proof white-lightning into their baffle-plated trunks. After everything is packed, Jacob addresses the crew.

JACOB Know yawl don’t think much of me but I will finish this run.

BYRON If ya don’t I’ll get myself locked up again jus’ so I can kill you.

SKILLET Give the kid a break.

Mickey snaps his fingers.

MICKEY Local enforcement units have been makin’ a big push into our territories. Jacob, all you gotta du is run those tires fast jus' like you du on the drag strip and you’ll be golden.

Jacob nods, makes his way to the driver’s side door. Mickey claps his hands together.

MICKEY (CONT'D) Les do this boys. Get er’ done.

EXT. ROADWAY - FAST CUTS

The Whiskey Drivers take off and fire down the mountain roads in their coupes at incredible speeds.

Working down through moonlit hills like a well-oiled machine. Headlights-off, moving elusively through mountain passes.

INT. COUPE - MOVING

Jacob clutches the wheel. Takes a long breath. Nervous as hell. Checks his rearview. Nothing. Eyes steady ahead.

EXT. BACKWOODS

Frog points a telescope through a patch of branches. The roads are empty. But Frog knows better.

After a moment, an Unmarked Cop Car rounds a bend, headlights glowing through the fog.

INT. COP CAR - FAST MOVING

TWO POLICE OFFICERS sit in the front seat, eyes peeled on the road, listening in on a two-way radio.

OFFICER Saw a tripper last week comin’ down hauling hooch.

DEPUTY How’d you know he was a tripper?

OFFICER Headlights off. Could’ve caught him but only had a half tank.

The Deputy eyes his fuel gauge.

DEPUTY Looks like you full ternight. Betta be faster. Or get smarter.

OFFICER Mountain boys ain’t that smart. Bunch of inbred good ol’ boys.

The Deputy gives him a look.

DEPUTY Like you one to talk. Man, you er straight up country.

The Officer presses down on his gas pedal. Smiles.

DEPUTY (CONT'D) Damn right.

EXT. BACKWOODS - CONTINUOUS

Frog drops his telescope on the ground, grabs a 12-gauge shotgun at his feet. Cocks and quickly fires off a shot in the air. He starts running through the forest in leaps and bounds, firing off his gun.

INT. POLICE CAR - FAST MOVING

Officer hears, throws his eyes up at the rearview mirror.

OFFICER They’re here. Fuckin’ bred like maggots all over these hills.

Jacob's Coupe surges ahead down the narrowing road.

DEPUTY Jesus, see how fast he goin’?!

OFFICER Car’s hopped up. Hell, Henry Ford don’t make em’ like that.

Deputy speeds after Jacob. Headlights bright as day.

INT. JACOB'S COUPE

The Police are hot on Jacob's trail, shooting out onto another back road as he plunges ahead into darkness. Jacob swerves his Ford in and out of lanes as the Police Car keeps tight. Sirens flashing.

EXT. BACKWOODS ROAD

Mickey’s gasser appears off a side road and accelerates behind Jacob as his blocker, running interference against the police.

Mickey turns on a bright rear-facing light to blind the pursuing Police Car which sends them spinning off course into a guardrail.

INT. MICKEY’S GASSER

Mickey wails with laughter and watches impressed as Jacob takes a hard right through a long stretch of cornfields.

MICKEY Gawdam!

EXT. CORNFIELDS

Jacob's Coupe rips ahead through dense patches of tall corn stalks.

INT. JACOB'S COUPE

Headlights off, Jacob can’t make out the car behind him. Soon, he sees Mickey at the wheel. A relieved smile spreads across his face.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD

Coupes shoot onto a dirt road, roar off into the night.

EXT. OPEN FIELD - SEVERAL MILES AWAY

Jacob tails Mickey’s car steering into a vacant grassy lot where another car awaits. Jacob stays in his car.

Mickey gets out to meet with PHOEBUS TURNER, Dean’s younger brother, a lanky wire of a man.

PHOEBUS Right on time for once.

Mickey flashes a grin.

MICKEY Got a new driver an' he’s fast.

Phoebus arches an eyebrow, glances over and sees Jacob in the driver’s seat of his coupe. They lock eyes.

PHOEBUS Open up the back.

Jacob gets out of the car, looks around and pops the trunk. Phoebus walks over, removes a canvas tarp and admires the moonshine packed underneath. Mickey takes a drag of his cigarette, walks up next to him.

MICKEY Twelve half-gallon fruit jars in each case. Bout one hundred an' thirty two gallons in there. That’s ten dollars a gallon.

PHOEBUS We’ll take it from here.

INT. JACOB'S COUPE - MOMENTS LATER

Mickey joins Jacob in the front seat, counts out fifteen twenty-dollar bills and hands the money over to Jacob.

MICKEY Three-hundred for a night’s work.

Jacob stares at the cash in disbelief.

JACOB Tho't you said it was a hundred.

MICKEY Consider this yer bonus. You done good, Thompson.

Mickey extends his hand to Jacob. He takes it.

JACOB Wasn’t half bad.

Jacob stares ahead, smiles a little.

MICKEY Keep it up. You gonna be well- taken care of. Won’t have to worry about cash flow no more.

INT. SHORTY’S BRICK PIT BBQ - LATER

Sadie makes black coffee at the counter. Jacob is seated at the same table in a sweat-stained shirt, enduring the summer night heat. Sadie comes over.

SADIE Hi, Jacob. Gonna go with the brisket again?

Jacob nods, a smile on his face.

JACOB Yeah. I think so.

SADIE Nothing wrong with sticking to what ya like.

JACOB Do like that brisket ya got.

SADIE Oh, you’re not alone there.

They trade smiles. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

SADIE(CONT’D) (CONT'D) Gotta warn ya though, kitchen’s a little slow tonight.

JACOB I can wait. Got a crossword.

He regards a newspaper clipping crossword puzzle on the table in front of him.

SADIE I’ll make sure you get extra mash.

JACOB Appreciate it.

Sadie smiles warmly, about to turn back towards the kitchen. Before she goes --

SADIE Hey Jacob, why you hanging out with Mickey Craig? Never seen you around with him before.

JACOB Oh Mickey? Mean, known him since we were kids, just haven’t seen much of each other lately.

SADIE He’s kind of a trouble maker ya know? Don’t like bad mouthing any body but you’re nice, Jacob. Hate to see you get caught up in anything.

JACOB I’ll be a’right.

SADIE Sorry, it’s none of my business.

JACOB Don’t worry ‘bout it.

Sadie nods. Smiles.

SADIE Lemme get that brisket going.

INT. SERVICE STATION - LATER

Jacob creeps his grimed-up black coupe into the garage.

INT. JACOB'S COUPE

A smile forms across his face. Hands sweat-ripe, blistered. He shuts off the engine, releases a whoop.

INT. THOMPSON HOME - JACOB'S BEDROOM

First rays of sunlight slip through the curtains. Jacob eases into bed, pulls out three hundred dollar bills from his pocket and marvels at the cash in his hands.

INT. THOMPSON HOME - KITCHEN

A portable AM/FM radio is turned up on the counter. Lisbeth dances by the sink to an American Bandstand broadcast. Jacob throws on an undershirt and comes in from down the hall.

JACOB Quit blastin’ that crap, Lizard.

LISBETH It’s American Bandstand, Jacob! Come on, dance with me.

She reaches out and takes his hand, pulls him towards her. He resists.

JACOB I’m not dancin’, especially to no bebop whatever you call it.

LISBETH You no fun. Cain't wait til’ I get out of Bourbon and move to Louisville. Bet ever'one there likes to dance.

JACOB Oh, I’m sure they do. You order those groceries?

LISBETH Yep. Miss Bartholomew brought some by from the store.

JACOB Then let’s make breakfast.

INT. THOMPSON HOME - KITCHEN

A frying pan crackles on the wood-burning stove. Jacob flips bacon with a spatula. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

Lisbeth and Pappy are seated around the kitchen table with a loaf of bread. Pappy pushes white grits on his plate with a fork.

PAPPY ‘Nother race, Jacob?

Jacob nods.

JACOB I won.

Beat.

PAPPY Races are on Sundays.

JACOB Had some money left over. Can't you just enjoy it?

PAPPY You lying. Never been good at it.

Jacob lowers his eyes.

JACOB Not lying. But don’t need you coming down on me for trying to put food on our table.

PAPPY Oh, think you so smart, huh?

JACOB Enjoy the meal Daddy. I’ll eat outside.

Jacob takes his plate and leaves the kitchen. Lisbeth turns her eyes at her father.

LISBETH Why’d you do that, Daddy?

PAPPY Lisbeth, you ain’t gonna take any money from Jacob. Hear me?

LISBETH Fine.

INT. POLICE STATION - MEETING ROOM

Sheriff Rathbone stands at the front of the room before a group of LOCAL POLICE OFFICERS in rows of chairs. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

SHERIFF Turners have evaded the law for years an' built a fortune on illegal whiskey without payin’ a dime in taxes. Got local boys running whiskey for em' in the hills an' it’s time we put a stop to it in Bourbon County.

The Sheriff throws a glance to the back corner of the room where BIG SIX HENDERSON, a tall, well-groomed man in a dark suit with slick-backed hair. The Elliot Nest of Moonshiners. He stands with colleagues.

SHERIFF (CONT'D) Want ya to meet Special Investigator Henderson from the Federal Alcohol Tax Unit. Been stampin’ out bootleggers throughout the country and is gonna help us deal with our moonshine problem.

Big Six makes his way up to the front of the room.

BIG SIX Thank you, Sheriff.

He looks out at the team.

BIG SIX (CONT'D) My men and I are here to rectify failures and hold the Turner family accountable. These people have been defrauding the government and robbing the country of ample revenue.

Big Six takes a glance at SIX REVENUER AGENTS lined against the back wall, postures straightened, faces stoic and expressionless. A mixed group of former college athletes, Ivy League graduates, ex-soldiers and state troopers. Young, handsome and debonair in brown suits.

BIG SIX (CONT'D) These are my officers from the Whiskey Task Force, graduates of the Treasury Training School For Enforcement. Agents Mitchell, Winton, McNearney, Bays, Pearl and Harrison.

The WHISKEY TASK FORCE remain silent as their names are called out, quietly sizing up the good old boys that make- up the local police in attendance.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (2)

BIG SIX (CONT'D) We don’t know the roads like these country drivers do, so we’ll need the help of local law enforcement, sharing information on car models, points of activity that can help us identify drivers. (then) ‘Cause rest assured, we will find them and wipe out illicit whiskey in Bourbon County. I believe this is all very achievable an' we’re ready to get started. So, that’s all for now.

Big Six nods, steps away.

INT. SERVICE SHOP - SERIES OF DISSOLVES

Jacob installs suspension enhancements into his car to level heavier whiskey loads, puts in mudguards studded with reflectors, secures new fender skirts and paints fresh enamel on the hood. He mixes a nitro-methane brew and pours it into a dump tube.

EXT. DIRT TRACK - ESTABLISHING

Sunday night races are growing in popularity. Working class locals fill rickety wood stands of a newly opened red dirt track.

There are huge stacks of racing tires, portable cans of gasoline and compressed air hoses set-up alongside the dusty track.

INT. JACOB'S COUPE - CONTINUOUS

Jacob pulls into rows of automobiles next to seasoned, hard-looking drivers with powerful engines. A gun fires. The Drivers explode from the start line.

CUT TO:

MONTAGE

... At the wheel, Jacob looks behind him as curve around the track, hurtling into their first lap.

... He gains momentum, slinging mud as his car begins to get ahead of other vehicles on the short-track.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

... Cars wreck behind him at every angle, flipping on their side. Tires tear from wheels, flying into hollow trees encircling the track.

... Jacob's Coupe rips over the chaotic track, moves around curved sideways. Reams of red dirt shower up.

INT. JACOB'S COUPE

Jacob's windshield is blinded by a dust cloud. He grabs hold of the wheel. Ahead, Jacob narrowly avoids two colliding cars as mayhem unfolds on the track.

The car sputters and smashes into a wooden fence post. Jacob quickly regains control of the wheel and charges ahead of the pack in a quick burst of speed.

EXT. DIRT TRACKS

Jacob’s Coupe blasts past his competition, lap after lap, finally finishing a ten-lap sprint to victory.

EXT. DIRT TRACKS - TIME CUT

After dust settles, Jacob steps out from his Coupe and receives floods of rousing cheers from the grandstands.

EXT. DIRT TRACK

Cameras flash everywhere. Jacob receives one-hundred dollars in cash, motor oil, cigars and beer from track owner, JAKE CLANCY. A brash, ruddy complexioned slab of beef man with and a cigar in his mouth.

CLANCY Congratulations, just won your first purse.

Jacob smiles.

JACOB Thank you, sir.

CLANCY Now let’s get a picture.

They stand together as a NEWSPAPER PHOTOGRAPHER snaps another picture. Clancy extends his hand.

CLANCY (CONT'D) Name’s Clancy. Jake Clancy.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

Jacob takes his hand.

JACOB Jacob Thompson. Some crowd you got today.

Jacob walks along the empty track with Clancy as the stands begin to clear out.

CLANCY Only gonna get bigger. See, the fans like the track cause they get to watch the cars they drive every day in action.

Jacob smiles.

JACOB They do seem to enjoy it.

CLANCY An’ you got a lot of potential boy. You heard about NASCAR?

JACOB Guys on the track chatter, must be heck of an organization.

CLANCY NASCAR’s ain’t that big yet but they’re growing. Should think about joining the ranks of stock car racing. Make it to Daytona some day.

Jacob gazes out at the track.

JACOB Would be nice but cain't leave my family. Have a lot of things to deal with in Bourbon right now.

CLANCY Got some connections in the city. This offer don’t expire. Three dollars a mile. Six hundred miles in a single day. Not a bad life.

JACOB Thanks Mr. Clancy, I’ll keep it in mind.

Clancy gives him a magnetic smile.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (2)

CLANCY Good ‘cause that was some hell drivin’ out there. Promised Land’s awaiting you.

Clancy walks off, leaving Jacob to ponder the possibilities.

EXT. POLICE STATION - DAY

Big Six comes down the concrete steps with the SIX AGENTS who make up his Whiskey Task Force. Lights a cigarette.

BIG SIX Got our work cut out for us boys. This town is in Dean Turner’s pocket. Police payoffs, judges taking bribes from his men. There’s millions of gallons flowing out of Bourbon into the bootleggers’ hands.

Big Six takes a drag of his cigarette.

BIG SIX (CONT'D) Want us to keep tabs on the tracks poppin’ up outside Louisville and attend races. Start asking the right questions around town.

Agent Mitchell stretches his eyes ahead at the sparsely- populated mountainous landscape before them.

MITCHELL Locals are loyal to locals, these Briers won’t trust us.

BIG SIX Someone’s gonna talk. We get names, connect dots, one by one. People in these hills are starving to death. Protecting their own won’t work when you have babies to feed. We increase the rewards. Things will swing in our favor once they have money in their hands. So, let’s get to work.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - LATER

FOUR AGENTS step from an Unmarked Ford, stalking down a backcountry road scattered in rows of dilapidated Shotgun Homes.

EXT. SHOTGUN HOME - MINUTES LATER

Agent Schulz stands on the porch step. Agent Winton is by his side. At the door, a snaggle-toothed YOUNG MOTHER cradles a TODDLER in a cloth diaper.

YOUNG MOTHER Who’d y’ say you work for?

WINTON The revenue service, ma’m.

YOUNG MOTHER Don’t got much use for the law. Don’t know nawthun about no whiskey drivers neither.

She holds her baby steady.

SCHULZ If anyone comes to mind, we could help put a little more food on your table. ‘Cause those shine drivers sure are making sure to be helping themselves, and not helping you much.

WINTON See, people gotta make up for what the takers keep from the government. They get rich, honest citizens like you get poorer.

SCHULZ All off the record, of course.

EXT. LOG TOBACCO BARN - DAY

Next, a shaggy-haired SKINNY BOY stands against a wooden fence in a straw hat. Sucks on a blade of wheat, staring blankly at Agent Bays.

SKINNY BOY Ain’t no snitch.

Bays removes his wallet from his coat pocket.

BAYS Little cash on the spot, get a nice reward for helping out the United States government.

He arches an eyebrow.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

SKINNY BOY Yeah? Whut kind of money?

Agent Bays clasps his hands together.

BAYS More than you’ve got now.

The Skinny Boy’s face lights, considers his proposition.

EXT. RATHBONE HOME - ESTABLISHING

Pappy walks up the steps of a rustic wood-framed house and knocks on the frame of a screened door. Sadie comes to the door in a frayed cotton dress, smiles through the screen wire, knows this is Jacob's father.

SADIE Hello, Mr. Thompson.

PAPPY Your daddy home?

Out of uniform, Sheriff Rathbone approaches from behind Sadie. She steps aside as he moves onto the porch.

SHERIFF RATHBONE Thompson, what can I do for you?

Sheriff Rathbone studies his face, seems cautious and wary of him. Pappy gives a sidelong glance, stumbles over his words a bit.

PAPPY Wanted to come by. Been goin’ round the hills remindin’ erbody got my shop in th' area. Can take care of your cars, give ya real cheap prices.

SHERIFF RATHBONE Know about your shop, Pappy.

PAPPY See ya got your car on the cinder blocks, keepin’ the tires from rottin’ but could getcha a good rate for a new set.

Pappy regards a Nash-Rambler car placed atop four cinder blocks at the side of the house.

SHERIFF RATHBONE Know I don’t like solicitations at my door, Thompson.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

PAPPY Apologies, Sheriff. Been a little slow, doin’ ever'thing I can to bring in some new bidnis. Maybe you could talk amongst your friends, know lots of folks. Would certainly prechate it.

He steps off the front porch. Sheriff Rathbone looks at him, a hint of compassion.

SHERIFF RATHBONE See what I can do but y’know your histery done you no favors.

PAPPY I know. But the Lord forgives. Thank you, Sheriff.

Pappy starts to leave, takes pause as Sheriff Rathbone calls after him.

SHERIFF RATHBONE Thompson, can smell the booze on yo' breath. ‘Reckon you put down that bottle, might do your business a world of good.

Shamed, Pappy nods and gets back into his pick-up truck at the end of the driveway.

INT. GAS N’ GIT - COUNTRY STORE - NEXT DAY

Mickey strolls down the aisles, picking up Red Man chewing tobacco, potato chips, canned goods, peanuts and dried sausages from the racks, tucking each item under his arm with a whistle.

He notices AGENT WINTON in a brown suit purchasing a pack of cigarettes at the register from a gaunt STORE CLERK standing behind the counter with a crinkly face, gloomy gray eyes and toothless gums.

EXT. GAS N’ GIT - MOMENTS LATER

A CHEVY FLEETMASTER is parked at the pump, several Revenuers in crisp suits and Agent Winton stand by -- watching Mickey exit the store’s front porch carrying a tow-sack under his arms, lit cigarette in his mouth.

AGENT WINTON That Mickey Craig?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

Agent Winton smiles and calls out to him. Mickey glances back, raises an eyebrow.

MICKEY Who wants to know?

From the driver’s seat, Agent Winton cool eyes Mickey.

AGENT WINTON Got our eyes on you Mickey. Gonna catch you. That’s a promise.

MICKEY Donno what you’d be ketchin’ me doin’. I’m a law abidin’ citizen.

Mickey tips his hat.

MICKEY (CONT'D) Now you Yankees have a fine day.

Agent Winton keeps his gaze steady on Mickey.

AGENT WINTON Just biding time. Think twice before stirring your next batch.

Mickey flicks his cigarette on the hardened ground and stamps it out.

MICKEY Wastin’ your time, fellas. Might as well move on frum Bourbon...

He smirks, keeps going.

EXT. BACKWOODS - LATER

In the brambles at two o'clock in the morning, Mickey cuts at the underbrush with a wood-handled ax, leading Jacob through thickets of rhododendrons.

THE STILL

Fire punches up, bundles of hickory sticks under a boiling cooker-pot. Mickey plucks on the strings of a banjo, squatting down next to a shrub of honeysuckle.

MICKEY Time to move the stash. Got some city-bred Revenuers in town. (MORE)

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

MICKEY (CONT'D) But see they still stuck with those government-issued economy cars that jes’ pale in comparison to ours.

Mickey raises a finger.

MICKEY (CONT'D) An’ yawl know a dog don’t be ketchin’ no foxes...

He smiles over at the crew.

MICKEY (CONT'D) An' ain’t we a bunch of foxes.

BYRON Ears and eyes sharp as a fox.

Mickey nods.

MICKEY That’s right. So, raise a glass now to that one-hundred proof ‘shine, water of life.

Skillet raises a mason jar.

SKILLET Here, here.

MICKEY The night is still young boys an' we got work to do. Keep Mr. Turner happy an' we could be fetchin’ anywhere from five-hundred to one- thousand dollars on our next runs. ‘Member boys, dis is our Gawd- given right, our American dream an' ain’t nobody gonna take that from us...

They hoot and holler like wolves in the night. Jacob follows suit, holds up a mason jar to his lips and takes a sip, watching the crew with a newfound admiration.

EXT. PINK SHOTGUN HOUSE - NIGHT

Parked cars dot the uncut grass surrounded by torn-down shanties in an unassuming rural neighborhood. Barking dogs pounce on chains hooked-up to a pair of dead trees.

INT. PINK SHOTGUN HOUSE - CONTINUOUS

Lights down low at a secret Nip Joint popular with the local segregated communities. An illegal watering hole where a bell-cheeked HOUSE LADY named BRIGHTIE WILLIAMS (30s) charges a fee for entrance at the door.

She’s a lively mixed-race woman, fake diamond studs in her ears and a bandana around her head holding back an explosion of curls.

The vibrant house is clogged with people going all night long. Smoking cigarettes, gambling on slot machines, drinking half-pints of whiskey and dancing to live jazz musicians performing from the CHITLIN’ CIRCUIT.

SWISH PAN TO:

The Drivers slip past the front door, carrying boxes of moonshine through the packed tight crowd. Brightie leads the way, smiles over at Skillet. Their eyes light up at the rocking scene unfolding at hand.

BRIGHTIE Better be on yo' best behavior.

SKILLET Always am. Now, boys, this is Miss Brightie.

Byron smiles large.

BYRON Know much about Miss Brightie.

Brightie puts her hands on her hips.

BRIGHTIE Oh, what’d you hear?

BYRON That you the most beautiful woman in all Bourbon an' now I know that wuz no exaggeration.

She looks at him and chuckles.

BRIGHTIE Oh, you’re a charmer. I like yo' friend Julius.

Byron bites his lower lip and smiles. Skillet rolls his eyes. Byron slings his arm around Skillet, raises an eyebrow as they jostle through the rollicking crowd.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

BYRON That yo' real name Skillet? Julius? Like Caesar?

Skillet nods.

SKILLET Guess. What you know ‘bout Julius Caesar?

Byron reflects with a smile.

BYRON When I wuz in county prison for two years, had dis purty redhead frum a girls’ college, used to come read to me. Hadda thing for Shakespeare. Supposed to rehabilitate me an' got quite generous with her passion for literature an' love.

Byron’s eyebrows go up with a smirk. Jacob watches Brightie float through the room.

BRIGHTIE Boys, I got friends of mine you oughta meet...

She guides them over to a GROUP OF LEGGY GIRLS in sequin short-shorts and tank tops set cross-legged along a plastic-covered couch. They smile flirtatiously at the boys. Byron swallows, stares forward.

BYRON Oh, now we jes' died an' been sent to heaven...

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - SIMULTANEOUS

An Unmarked Ford creeps along the street, closing in towards the Pink Shotgun House.

INT. UNMARKED FORD

Big Six sits in the passenger seat as Agent Winton drives at the wheel, accompanied by Bays and McNearney in the back with a Chevy Fleetmaster trailing behind them.

BIG SIX Looks like we got a nip joint open for business in the neighborhood.

Agent Winton nods. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

AGENT WINTON Got a tip, been goin’ on here for the last year. Local police never busted it up.

Big Six glances in the rearview, makes eye contact with the agents in the backseat.

BIG SIX Let’s shut it down.

INT. NIP JOINT - CONTINUOUS

Jacob and the crew jitterbug in the living room with Brightie and her girls, twirling them back and forth in their arms in front of the gut bucket jazz band.

EXT. NIP JOINT - SECONDS LATER

The WHISKEY TASK FORCE rush towards the house on foot up onto a rickety porch, guns readied and kick in --

INT. NIP JOINT

The front door breaks down off its hinges. The Task Force throttles inside and everyone around the house flees like a flutter of flushed quail. Big Six holds up a warrant, shakes the paper in his hand and shouts --

BIG SIX Federal investigators, we’re here to execute a search warrant for the illegal sale of alcohol and gambling --

The Task Force Agents holds up their guns, pointing stone- cold in every direction.

BIG SIX (CONT'D) Get back. Hands on your head!

All hell breaks loose, scantily clad GIRLS dart around as screaming GUESTS jump over furniture and break out of open windows. Big Six and the Agents get to work, seizing alcohol, turning over gambling tables and making arrests.

EXT. PINK SHOTGUN HOUSE

The crowd swarms outside on the grass, hopping up over backyard fences. Jacob and the crew take off on foot, running hand-in-hand with Brightie and her girls, laughing and shouting into the night.

INT. FLEETSIDE PICK-UP TRUCK - MINUTES LATER

Byron spins his tires down the road. Truck is jam-packed the Whiskey Runners and girls on their laps, legs hanging out windows.

Brightie has her arm around Jacob and plays with his hair in the passenger seat. The car takes off into the night.

EXT. REDBONE RIDGE - SWIMMING HOLE

Clothes scatter across the dirt under a Yellow Moon. From high above a rocky ledge, bodies jump off the edge and hurtle into the air. One after the other.

EXT. UNDERWATER - MATCH

Splash beneath the surface. Jacob sinks to the bottom. Closes his eyes, swims back towards the moonlit surface.

MICKEY (V.O.) These hills er our lifeblood...

INSERT CUT: Mickey swerves into a bridle side path, one tire lurched up against an embankment, escaping a Revenuer car hot on his tail.

MICKEY (V.O.) We get to know ever' curve.

INSERT CUT: Skillet’s car whips across an open field, running ragged over the grass.

MICKEY (V.O.) Rehearse our routes.

INSERT CUT: Byron’s car waits in an Abandoned Barn, ignition off as a Law Car rushes by on the road.

MICKEY (V.O.) Memorize our safe spots.

INSERT CUT: Jacob switches out his license plate and installs out of states plates.

MICKEY (V.O.) Find new tactics to evade the law.

INT. MICKEY’S GASSER - DAYBREAK

Mickey drives at a moderate pace down a state road. He wears a business suit, clean white shirt and tie. A pencil hangs behind his ear. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

There are sample cases. A clipboard on top of a briefcase next to a catalog; “The Fuller Brush Man - America’s Most Famous Visitor, For Healthy Beauty & Home.”

EXT. COUNTRY CROSSROAD - EARLY MORNING

Byron pulls up to a stop sign with Frog in the passenger seat. He sticks a fishing rod out the window and holds a tackle box in his lap, pretending to be tourists. A police car hangs across the street without giving notice.

EXT. TURNER HOMESTEAD - NEXT DAY

Jacob and Mickey’s cars bounce onto a graveled driveway curling around a big white clapboard home at the edge of a mountainous expanse laid out before them.

They step out of their cars and meet in front. Jacob notices, a brand-new copper-colored Chevy Bel-Air hardtop parked in the driveway that glistens in the sun.

INT. TURNER HOMESTEAD - SERIES OF SHOTS

Several PICK-UP MEN work around the house, including Phoebus who helps cram gallons of whiskey product to hide in the ceilings and secret rooms accessed by trapdoors. There are false walls where 250 high-proof gallons of whiskey are being stored.

INT. TURNER HOMESTEAD - SMOKY DEN

Mickey guides Jacob into the room where DEAN TURNER (40s), a smooth-talking oonshine kingpin, sits behind an antique oak desk in a tufted leather arm chair.

DEAN This Big Six Henderson. Know his name. He’s persistent as hell.

Dean chuckles at Phoebus, looks up from his paperwork and raises an eyebrow as Mickey waltzes in with Jacob.

DEAN (CONT'D) Mickey, you’re late.

MICKEY Apologies, Uncle Dean.

Dean pierces his eyes at Jacob.

DEAN Who’s yo' friend?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

MICKEY This is Jacob Thompson, our new driver.

DEAN Jacob Thompson, huh? Good to have this driver I’ve been hearin’ so much about in my home.

Jacob crosses over to Dean’s desk and extends his hand dutifully.

JACOB Pleasure to meet you, sir.

Dean grasps his hand.

DEAN Pleasure’s all mine. Mickey, why don’t you excuse Jacob an' I? Like a word with him.

Mickey nods.

MICKEY I’ll let yawl get acquainted.

Mickey steps out of the room. Phoebus and the Pick-Up men follow Mickey, closing the door behind them. Jacob looks over his shoulder as Mickey leaves, feeling instantly uneasy. Dean stands up from his desk and goes to a shelf, pulls out a calfskin cigar case and offers one to Jacob.

JACOB Thank you. You have a very nice home, Mr. Turner.

Dean lights his cigar, hovers his eyes around the room.

DEAN Too much home, maybe. Wife died few years back of tuberculosis, bless her heart. Never remarried. No kids. So now it’s jes’ me. But you know Jacob, you’re as entitled to a house like dis as anyone else. Don’t let nobody tell you otherwise.

JACOB ‘Suppose I’ve always lived pretty simple. Just what I’m used to.

Dean sits back down and reclines in his arm chair, narrows his eyes on Jacob.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (2)

DEAN Cause you been tole to. See I grew up lot like you Jacob, came foum nawthun. Real salt of the earth family, married into ‘shine. Didn’t have a cent to my name ‘til I learnt how to build somethin’.

JACOB Well, ever'one does seem to know you and respect you, Mr. Turner.

DEAN ‘Cause I got good instincts. Know when to make an investment. You’re quite a driver I hear. Frankly, best one my nephew has been able to produce for me. Would be a good thing for you cuttin’ your teeth with us full time and in turn we’d help you, be like kin to us.

Jacob contemplates his next words.

JACOB Honestly, didn’t think I’d be doin’ many more runs cause I help my father during the day. He owns a service station next to our house. Really does need me there.

Dean nods.

DEAN I understand family loyalty, believe me I do. That’s good you du honest work with your daddy.

Dean smiles at Jacob.

DEAN (CONT'D) But honest work don’t feed families, Jacob. All got bills to pay. You see an opportunity in dis world that’s gonna better yo' situation in life an' you gotta take it my friend. Or you gunna stay with the peasantry.

JACOB It is nice havin’ a lil’ bit of money ‘round.

DEAN That it is. Now you gotta taste this. (MORE) (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (3)

DEAN (CONT'D) Grand Daddy used to char the barrels himself to get this rich red color.

Dean removes two mason jar of red whiskey from the windowsill, pours them both a drink and hands one to Jacob. He takes a sip, ruminates over the proposal.

JACOB That is some fine Kentucky whiskey.

DEAN You know why they call it Bourbon County?

JACOB Don’t I reckon I do.

DEAN Bourbon was the family name of King Louis XVI. He helped us during the revolution against the Limeys. See, loyalty is rewarded. Keep givin’ us yo' nights fer the rest of the season. I’ll increase yo' wages if you come onboard full- time with the operation. The way you drive, got nawthun to lose.

Jacob makes a smile.

JACOB Have been good ‘bout out runnin’ revenuers.

DEAN Course you have, got a gift. Now look around. You deserve dis kind of life. You can have it too. This is America. That’s why we’re here. We don’t live under no kings or no lords, we become kings. ‘Country’s all one big house o’ lords!

INT. SHORTY’S BRICK PIT BBQ

Big Six Henderson sits alone at a large booth in a dark suit and a thin black tie with a newspaper in his hand. Morning coffee with a serving of fried side-pork, a soggy biscuit and gravy on his plate.

At this time, RED SAM (30s), a tall, slender built man, steely cold eyes and ghoulishly pale-skin, enters the pit and walks over to join Big Six. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

He sits down across from Big Six at his booth and opens up a menu, quietly studying the slim offerings.

RED SAM Didn’t think you’d mind if I joined you. And what would today’s specials be Mr. Hilderbrand?

Big Six lowers his newspaper and looks over.

BIG SIX Menu stays the same.

He folds his newspaper up, eyes drift at Red Sam who we now see has an unusual birth mark descending down his forehead like blood letting from his skull. Red Sam slides a toothpick over his lips with his tongue then chews, gives Big Six a dead-serious look.

RED SAM Haven’t been able to catch your moonshine drivers have you?

BIG SIX We’re working on it. Building our case. These things take time.

RED SAM But don’t got all the time in the world now do ya? I can get it done. And you know dis place loves its stump likker and I know how to think like a moonshiner. Know the way of ‘dem hills...

BIG SIX Know about your way, Ray. You follow the terms of the deal and you’ll be compensated with what was offered. Clear and simple.

RED SAM Then we’re on the same page.

BIG SIX Terms are set. No further negotiations needed. If you don’t like it, I got a guy in Rockcastle that can do the job.

Big Six pulls money from his pockets, picks up his bill.

BIG SIX (CONT'D) Enjoy your breakfast.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (2)

Before he goes, Red Sam’s beady eyes drift over at the mountain views from the window.

RED SAM Way I see it, got a fire burning in those hills. Needs puttin’ out.

Big Six stands, tips his hat before moving on towards the screened door.

BIG SIX Why I called.

EXT. LOWLANDS - LATE DAY

Mickey moves nimbly through piney woods, clears off growth hanging from drooping branches, hacking away with a gnarled walking stick. Jacob follows, lugs a moldy cardboard box filled with auto-parts.

MICKEY Feds are getting desperate, bringin’ in new drivers. My uncle’s got people on the inside hearing chatter.

JACOB Cars’ll still be slow.

Mickey nods with a grin.

MICKEY Oh yes, an' nawthun they throw at us is gonna stop moonshine from thriving in Bourbon County. See, these folks take comfort in their sips. Simple supply and demand economics. And us? Well, we got natural ingenuity.

Jacob and Mickey continue on through the sassafras and over felled trees, rotten from within, towards the SERVICE STATION peeking out in view from beyond the dogwoods where a deep stream ends.

INT. SERVICE STATION - LATE DAY

Jacob works under the hood of his FORD COUPE in a speckled white cotton shirt, hopping up his engine to carry heavier moonshine loads.

Additional race carburetors stack on a work bench. Mickey peers over from a backless stool. Playboy in his hands.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

MICKEY Modify that suspension?

Jacob nods, puts his grease rag over his shoulder.

JACOB Put in new eight point twenty tires too to carry more load. Offenhauser engine doin’ ‘bout one- hundred twenty-five miles per hour. Be faster than any tripper out there.

Mickey smiles wry, walks over and pats the hood.

MICKEY And you keep it plain n’ simple on the outside so thar's no tellin’ what's underneath.

JACOB Registered under a fake name, new plates. No one’s gonna know who’s drivin’ either.

Mickey taps his head.

MICKEY Gettin’ smart, boy. Gettin’ real smart. Then ya jes' drive down that mountain like yer ass on fire. Dis girl’s gonna make us rich an' Dean’s quite pleased you committin’.

Mickey scrunches down, kisses the bumper.

JACOB Jus’ gonna give it some more time.

Jacob cocks his head, hears footsteps shuffling towards the shop and shoots a look at Mickey. Pappy appears at the doorway, stares over, full of suspicion. Mickey smiles, goes over to shake his hand.

MICKEY Mr. Thompson, good to see ya.

Beat. Mickey’s hand is left hanging, he smoothly puts it to his side.

PAPPY Mickey, what you doin’ here?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (2)

MICKEY Jes’ in the neighborhood, figured I’d pay Jacob a visit.

PAPPY Been a long time.

Mickey nods, smiles.

MICKEY Yeah well, friends like Jacob an' I can always pick-up right where we left off.

PAPPY From what I remember wasn’t too keen on where that was. Gettin’ Jacob into trouble, lucky he turn'd it ‘round after you disappeared.

Jacob throat knots up.

JACOB Daddy.

MICKEY Mr. Thompson, we were young an' youngsters get into trubbil once n’ awhile. You know that. Heard you was sum trouble y’self back when. But hey, I should get goin’.

Mickey presses past Pappy, who narrows his eyes distastefully at his son and barks hoarsely.

PAPPY You workin’ with that son-of-a- bitch, Jacob?

JACOB He’s my friend.

PAPPY Don’t need friends like Mickey Craig in your life, Jacob. He’s a piece of shit kid.

INT. REDBONE RIDGE - DUSK

A Chevy Fleetmaster parks behind brush against a rutted road. Big Six and the REVENUE MEN step out in raiding clothes, dark green jumpsuits that blend into the woods. Big Six stares off at the scenery with an M-1 Rifle slung over his shoulder. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

BIG SIX Let’s get in there.

EXT. THE RIDGE

REVENUE MEN move discreetly into tangled branches and over fallen trees and trample broom sage, searching the hills. Big Six dances his eyes ahead at the mountain scape unfolding before them.

BIG SIX They call it the Ridge. Gonna be working through the night, every night if we have to. Long as it takes to know these hills like a bobcat and break this whiskey ring apart.

A poisonous copperhead snake slithers across the ground. Big Six lifts his foot and stomps his boot down on the snake’s head, digs his heel into the earth.

SLAM TO BLACK.

MICKEY (PRE-LAP) Motha tole me to watch the still in case the Revenooer comes up o’er the hill...

INT. NEWLY ESTABLISHED STILL - SERIES OF DISSOLVES

Frog is building a fire as Mickey separates grains by hand nearby on a stump.

MICKEY Gotta be doublin’ it an' get rid of bad oil. Need to larn this, boy.

Hot water pours into the container, breaks up sweet mash.

MICKEY (CONT'D) Heads is bad, tails is pizen, middle’s good.

Mickey shakes out a brown bag of sugar into the fresh mash and stirs it good. The mash is sifted, strained and carefully dipped out into charred barrels.

MICKEY (CONT'D) Gotta listen to it. Know when it’s ready to run.

EXT. BACKROADS - FLASH CUT

A Ford Coupe blazes into view and maneuvers across moonlit road, around unprotected curves with stunningly controlled speeds. Hair-raising turn after turn.

INT. FORD COUPE - FAST MOVING

The car races farther up the mountainside. The headlights reflected in misty night reveal: RED SAM.

Steely-eyed focus, shifting gears and getting acquainted with the local country roads, mastering every twist and turn, a careful predator in new hunting grounds as he rips across the whiskey belt into the night.

INT. SHORTY’S BRICK PIT BBQ - EARLY EVENING

Jacob hustles up steps at the side of the building. He smooths his hair and pushes through the screened door. Plaid button-up short sleeve shirt and blue jeans on.

Sheriff Rathbone and a DEPUTY turn from the register, heading towards him. Jacob moves aside at the vestibule, makes room for them. They eye Jacob on their way out.

JACOB Sheriff.

Sheriff Rathbone doesn’t respond. The lawmen continue towards a police car in the parking lot.

SADIE Hey Jacob.

Sadie glances over at Jacob from the counter.

SADIE(CONT’D) (CONT'D) Haven’t see much of you ‘round lately. You been hidin’?

Jacob makes a smirk.

JACOB Nah. Been busy, ‘suppose.

SADIE Racin’ that gasser?

JACOB Here and there. Should come to the track sometime.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

SADIE Yeah, my daddy would love that.

Jacob blushes a little.

JACOB Donno about that.

Sadie titters.

SADIE Kiddin’? He’d go crazy if he caught me at that track. Hear you’re pretty fast though.

JACOB Do okay. Thinkin’ maybe we could go for a ride?

SADIE A ride? Cain't. Still gotta finish my shift.

JACOB I can wait.

Sadie smiles.

SADIE A’right, why not? Nice night. I’ll grab you a coffee and pie in the mean time.

JACOB Sounds like a fair deal.

INT. JACOB'S COUPE - LATER THAT NIGHT

Jacob and Sadie hit the open road together in his car, taking off through a tunnel carving into a mountainous parkway. He looks over in the passenger seat, furtively takes a gander at her, wind blowing in her hair.

EXT. LOOKOUT POINT - NIGHT

The Coupe scatters dead leaves into the air as it pulls up to a foggy scenic overlook at the top of the ridge jutting across the smoky mountain range.

INT. JACOB'S COUPE - CONTINUOUS

Jacob turns his headlights off. Sadie gazes ahead, out upon the opposite ridge. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

JACOB Don’t got much around here but what we do have sure is nice, must be a thousand stories in these hills never even been heard.

He gives her a smile.

SADIE Maybe, they like to keep em’ to themselves. But sometimes it’s nice to tell those stories and share em’ with people. Make you realize we’re not all that different from each other.

Sadie sits back against her seat, cocks her head and thinks for a moment.

SADIE (CONT'D) Ya know, I used to see you in church a lot. Always wondered what you were thinkin’.

JACOB Felt like I was stuck there for a minute. I guess. But things have started to move fast. I like it.

SADIE Ever think of gettin’ out of Bourbon? Goin’ somewhere different?

JACOB Lisbeth always talks ‘bout Louisville but couldn’t leave my dad, needs me at the garage. You?

SADIE Been in these hills my whole life. All my family lives here since God knows when, probably be in Bourbon forever.

JACOB Then lucky me.

She smiles.

SADIE Oh? Think that makes you lucky?

Jacob nods.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (2)

JACOB I do. You’re the prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on.

They share a hesitant pause. Jacob leans over, lifts her chin and kisses Sadie’s lips. They sit back comfortably against their seats and take in the view.

SADIE What if you let me drive? Just to the bottom of the ridge.

Jacob raises an eyebrow.

INT. JACOB'S COUPE - SERIES OF SHOTS

Sadie holds onto the wheel and keeps a steady speed. She smiles over at Jacob, moving gears and presses down on the pedal, driving off into the night.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - LATER

Sadie kisses Jacob's cheek and gets out of the car. She waves goodbye. He watches her head down a gravelled path into a pool of light from her house.

INT. JACOB'S COUPE - LATER THAT NIGHT

Jacob’s Coupe plunges out of the darkness. With his trunk now packed in corn whiskey, Jacob tightly grips the wheel with a brand new pair of leather gloves. He checks his mirror. Nothing. Jacob rips his wheel around a corner.

EXT. BACKWOODS

Frog moves on foot between swaying willow trees and studies the road, catches Red Sam driving. Shotgun straightened. He fires it into the air.

INT. RED SAM’S COUPE - FAST MOVING

Red Sam hears gunshots echo through the night. Doesn’t blink. Steps on the gas and keeps going, shooting after Jacob's Coupe. However, Red Sam’s government issued car is no match for our moonshine driver.

EXT. BACK ROADS

The Ford Coupe rockets ahead, firing down the hill through a misty-top mountain pass. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

Headlights flash behind him as Revenuer Cars blast after the Coupe, slamming onto a corrugated road behind him.

Jacob makes a hard right then a left, trailed by the cars. But so do the Revenuers as Red Sam’s car steers into the line-up in pack formation. Right when, a milk truck slams into view from around a bend, swerving to avoid them. Horns blast in every direction!

Jacob rips his wheel around to avoid the colliding truck. Then, a Revenuer car immediately slams into the truck’s side and crushes up like a coke can.

EXT. ROADWAY - SIMULTANEOUS

The Milk Truck flips on its side and slams into a cliff side, belching shattered bottles across the road.

INT. REVENUER CAR

Agent Winton takes hold of the wheel, tries to regain control but hydroplanes into a guard rail.

INT. JACOB'S COUPE - REVERSE POV

Jacob spots a blockade of Revenuer cars in the road a half-mile ahead. He guns the engine --

EXT. ROADWAY

Jacob's Coupe rams the blockade, slicing past the Revenuers, sending cars spinning across the road. Hoods jack-hammered up in the air. Jacob cuts a left and fishtails into an unfenced pasture dotted with cows.

Just as Red Sam’s Coupe flies out from behind a milk house and barrels after him, quickly closing the gap.

INT. RED SAM’S COUPE - CONTINUOUS

Red Sam rips down on his gas pedal, like a mad bastard. Gray eyes wide and steady with complete focus.

EXT. COW PASTURE

Jacob dodges his car through the pasture, splashing through dozens of slop puddles, swerving to avoid a maze of cows. Agent Winton’s car appears, speeding alongside him. Jacob glances over, drunk on gloat.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

AGENT WINTON Pull over!

JACOB What ya tryin’ to do? Kiss me?

Agent Mitchell hangs from the passenger window, fires a rifle at Jacob's heavy-duty tires -- BAM! BAM!

Jacob's Coupe zig-zags to avoid the shots, dodging gunfire and shifts onto a muddy clay road at the end of the pasture.

The Revenuer car hits a bump. Mitchell is thrown from the vehicle, lands twisted, arm back in a ghastly bent. He cries out in pain as his elbow crunches through the skin.

EXT. ROADWAY

Agent Winton’s car lurches off a darkened road, sideswiping another Revenuer car into a tailspin.

The Revenuer car crashes through bushes out of the cow pasture, flips and slams into a wooden telephone pole. Sparks spew from the top as the car tumbles down hill, pulverized in a violent fireball.

Bays & Harrison are knocked out and instantly consumed by a blaze of flames.

EXT. ROADWAY

Agent Winton’s car flips over on its hood and tumbles into a ditch. Red Sam’s Coupe drives away unscathed, slipping off into the night.

INT. JACOB'S COUPE - SIMULTANEOUS

Jacob looks back as flames light up behind him. He keeps going, face drained white and wracked with guilt. Breathes hard, dispirited.

EXT. ROADWAY - NEXT DAY

The area has been cordoned off in wooden barriers. The Coroner recovers charred bodies of Agents Bays and Harrison from burnt wreckage.

Big Six stands nearby at a footbridge, cigarette dangles in his mouth. Agent Winton at his side.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

AGENT WINTON Every still we destroy, more are gonna spring up every night. Most of the kids we arrest can’t read or even write their names. Guess some places just ain’t meant to be tamed. Just doesn’t seem worth losing anymore of our guys.

Big Six’s face darkens.

BIG SIX We’ll get these sons of bitches. Believe me.

INT. POLICE STATION - MEETING ROOM - DAY

Big Six stands next to a bulletin board where a series of dossiers on suspected moonshine drivers are pinned-up. The mood is on a downbeat with Agents Bays and Harrison's deaths weighing on everyone’s minds.

BIG SIX After our outreach to the community, we’ve compiled a list of possible pick-up men running moonshine for Dean Turner and his family in Bourbon County.

Big Six takes a wooden pointer, directs it at each MUG SHOT as he brings up the drivers’ names.

BIG SIX (CONT'D) Former convict Byron McTeague’s been seen around a lot in the hills. Next we have Julius Lloyd Driskill known for his presence at the black nip joints and then there’s this man --

Big Six taps his pointer at a picture of Mickey’s mug shot.

BIG SIX (CONT'D) Mickey Craig. Few minor priors. Locals say his mother was the bastard half-sister of Dean Turner. Got a more than a hunch he’s heading the operation in Bourbon on behalf of his uncle. The boy is slippery like soap. (then) But there’s one more. A new driver. (MORE)

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

BIG SIX (CONT'D) He’s fast, effective behind the wheel and we’ve got reason to believe he’s connected to the racing circuits popping up around the county.

Agent Schulz leans back in a chair, studies the board.

SCHULZ Then it’s simple, we hit the tracks.

Big Six nods.

BIG SIX See what you find. I want these boys taken in. I want them prosecuted. We got two of our own dead now and that’s not gonna be tolerated.

EXT. DIRT TRACK - GRAND STANDS - NIGHT

Under the lights, Jacob's car glides around the track, leaving the competition to eat dust in his wake. From the stands, Agents Schulz and McNearney move about the crowd, observing the action in the bull ring.

EXT. DIRT TRACK - MOTOR SPEEDWAY

On the back straight away, a gaggle of cars speed up in single file lines. Then a tire blows out from under a car in the middle, sends the vehicle flipping upside down.

INT. JACOB’S CAR - SAME TIME

The car spins like a glass bottle in front of Jacob. Jacob slams against the wooden guardrail, quickly recovers. Speeds ahead to complete a final victory lap.

EXT. DIRT TRACK - GRANDSTANDS

The crowd cheers with excitement. Agent Schulz tears his eyes away from the track at McNearney.

SCHULZ Get his name.

INT. DRESS SHOP - DAY

Jacob and Sadie enter a store situated in a middle-class town on the outskirts of Bourbon. The SHOP GIRL acknowledges them with a smile but is preoccupied by a MIDDLE-AGED COUPLE near the dressing rooms.

SADIE Now what were you thinkin’?

She leads Jacob onward through the narrow aisle. Jacob runs his eyes across the store.

JACOB I wanna get a new dress for Lisbeth. Only has one. Wears it to church ever' Sunday.

SADIE A’right. Drove all the way out here. We can find something nice. What does she like?

Jacob thinks for a moment.

JACOB There’s a photograph she has of our parents taped up to her dresser. My mother had on this velveteen dress. Lisbeth seems to like it. But she never seemed to find in her things.

Sadie drifts her eyes at a display, zeroes in on a violet- colored dress hanging on a rack.

She walks over, runs her hand along the material, pulls the dress off and shows it to Jacob.

SADIE Feels like velveteen.

Jacob nods, smile.

JACOB Yeah. That looks nice.

Sadie glances at him curiously.

SADIE Know her size?

Jacob's face falls, realizing his error.

JACOB I don’t.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

Sadie puts her hand on her hip.

SADIE Jacob, how we gonna dress shop if you don’t know her size?

JACOB Pretty stupid.

Sadie holds the dress against her body.

SADIE No but kinda silly. I’m size two. How tall is she?

JACOB

Say about your height. Tall for her age.

SADIE Well, there. See? We’ll get this one. I’ll bring my sewing kit if we need to make adjustments.

Jacob smiles.

JACOB Glad you’re here.

Sadie smirks.

SADIE Me too, for Lisbeth’s sake.

JACOB Want you to pick somethin’ nice out for yourself too. New shoes?

She cocks him a look.

SADIE And what’s wrong with my shoes?

JACOB Didn’t mean there was something wrong with em’ just tho't you might wanna new pair.

SADIE I’m clownin’ you Jacob but don’t need you to get me new shoes.

JACOB I want to. As a thank you. You deserve the best, Sadie.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (2)

SADIE And why you being so nice to me?

JACOB ‘Cause I like you. Like being around you.

SADIE Could say the same about you.

JACOB Two pairs if you want.

SADIE Don’t go spoiling me now.

A FEMALE CUSTOMER in high-heels turns to her HUSBAND, a man in a drab suit, now recognizable as Agent Winton from the Whiskey Task Force. He has a bandage over his nose, bruises under his eyes.

WINTON’S WIFE And why can’t I have two new pairs of shoes?

She gapes. He rolls his eyes.

AGENT WINTON ‘Cause I don’t have money to throw around like these country boys.

Agent Winton takes a second glance at Jacob.

AGENT WINTON (CONT'D) Be interested to know how a kid like that gets big money to spend.

WINTON’S WIFE Oh Dale, you’re always raising suspicions.

AGENT WINTON ‘Cause I follow my gut. And my gut’s usually right.

EXT. STOREFRONT - MINUTES LATER

Agent Winton stalks behind Jacob and Sadie as they make their way back to Jacob's Coupe, shopping bags in hand.

He catches a glimpse of the license plate as they get into the Coupe parked outside the store and writes the number down on a pocket-sized pad of paper from his coat pocket. The car grumbles off down the road.

INT. POLICE STATION - MEETING ROOM

Big Six Henderson sits across from Agent Winton at a desk. Rolls a cigarette.

BIG SIX These boys are always switching out plates. A license number won’t do us much good, Jeb.

Big Six lights-up his cigarette. Takes a long drag.

AGENT WINTON I’m telling you, kid runs shine.

BIG SIX Could be right. May be our transporter.

AGENT WINTON You got someone?

Big Six retrieves a newspaper photograph from a manila envelope, slides the clipping onto his desk.

BIG SIX Been catching heat at the dirt track. Got people talking. Seems he’s caught the eye of that NASCAR organization too. Name’s Jacob Thompson. Heard he grew up with Mickey Craig. There’s a likely connection. Knows cars, he and his father have a garage in the area.

Agent Winton snaps his finger.

AGENT WINTON That’s him. That’s the kid I saw.

Big Six retrieves the newspaper clipping.

WINTON You sure?

AGENT WINTON Positive.

INT. THOMPSON HOME - LATER THAT DAY

Jacob and Sadie enter the house from the kitchen door. Lisbeth is setting a dinner table and fumbles a plate.

JACOB Lizard, want you to meet Sadie.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

SADIE Hey Lisbeth.

Lisbeth gives Sadie a shy smile.

LISBETH I know Sadie. You’re the sheriff’s daughter.

SADIE That’s right.

LISBETH Wow. You’re so pretty.

Sadie smiles.

SADIE Thank you Lisbeth, so are you.

JACOB Hey, we got you something. Sadie helped me pick it out.

LISBETH You did?

She lights up. Jacob places a shopping bag on the kitchen table. Lisbeth draws an apprehensive pause.

JACOB Go on.

Jacob gives her a look.

LISBETH Daddy said I cain't take anything from you, Jacob.

Sadie gives a side glance to Jacob.

SADIE Why would he say that Jacob?

JACOB He got ideas.

Sadie glances at him curiously.

SADIE I should get back home. Was nice seeing you, Lisbeth.

LISBETH Bye Sadie.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (2)

SADIE See you around, Jacob.

Sadie slips past Jacob and exits the house. Jacob nudges Lisbeth on, growing frustrated.

JACOB Jus’ open it Lizard.

Lisbeth moves to the table, removes the dress box from the shopping bag. She carefully unties the yellow bow wrapped around the box, lifts the top off, folds back clumps of folded tissue paper and finds the purple velveteen dress underneath.

LISBETH A velveteen dress.

Her heart sinks. Lisbeth pulls the dress out, holds it to her chest and looks down at it in disbelief.

LISBETH (CONT'D) Like the one Ma wore in her picture.

JACOB I thought so too.

LISBETH Jacob, I love it. I really do.

At this moment, Pappy stumbles into the room from the hallway, glassy-eyed and liquored up, regards the velveteen dress in Lisbeth’s hands.

PAPPY Hell is that?

JACOB An ear-lye birthday present for Lisbeth, Daddy.

PAPPY Lisbeth, put that durn dress back in the box.

She nods her head compliant, tears welling in her eyes. Jacob snaps back.

JACOB What hell difference does it make?! Let her have it --

Pappy darkens.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (3)

PAPPY Mus' think I’m real stupid, Jacob. Know where you get the money and it ain’t racin’.

Jacob takes an exasperated breath.

JACOB I can support this family. Gotta let me. They say I gotta shot at NASCAR one day, if I want. But I’m tryin’ to keep that shop up for you. Hell, why you have to take the piss outta me ever' time?!

Lisbeth collapses to the floor, sobs weakly.

LISBETH Jacob, stop fightin’!

PAPPY Don’t need yo' help, Jacob. Don’t want you in the shop no more neither. Talk all you want about NASCAR but whatchu doin’ in those hills? You’ll be goin’ somewhere and it damn ain’t Daytona.

Pappy snatches the dress from Lisbeth’s hands and points at the front door.

PAPPY (CONT'D) Now git.

EXT. BACKWOODS - DAY

Frog pours slop from a bucket at the edge of a gully, spilling whiskey residue into the stream, humming and whistling. Byron’s watchdog meanders by his side.

EXT. BACKWOODS - MOONSHINE STASH - DUSK

In a heavily wooded area, Mickey removes rocks atop a box and anxiously gathers quart jars of moonshine into a crate. Twigs snap in the shrubbery. Mickey quickly removes his pistol from his pocket.

FROG Whatchu doin’ out here by yourself, Mickey?

Frog emerges from the woods. Relieved, Mickey rests his pistol on a rock.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

MICKEY Gotta move the stash again. Dean’s losin’ market share to other moonshine families an' he ain’t happy about it.

FROG Can't be runnin’ wet alone.

MICKEY What's it to you?

FROG Nawthun. Just sayin’, I can keep watch.

MICKEY Good, could use another hand loadin’. If we don’t get this movin’, it’s my head, not yours.

Mickey hefts a crate with a cargo of moonshine from the ground and hands it to Frog.

MICKEY (CONT'D) So, les’ go.

EXT. BACK ROADS - NIGHT FALL

Frog quietly hangs behind a tall patch of bramble, observing the road through a telescope, like clock work a government issued Chevy Fleetline zooms into view.

INT. MICKEY’S GASSER

Mickey checks his rearview, hears gunshots and notices a Chevy appear behind him at reckless speed. Without hesitation, Mickey burns tire down a twisty roadway.

INT. RED SAM’S CAR

Red Sam is hellbent in pursuit but his government-issued car can’t match the ferocious power of Mickey’s souped-up gasser. Still, he jams his foot down on the gas pedal and powers forward at an unforgiving pace.

EXT. ROADWAY

Red Sam speeds up and bumps Mickey’s rear, drops back then speeds up alongside Mickey’s car, neck and neck. Both cars driving side-by-side -- metal on metal, paint stripped. Clang! Clang! (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

Red Sam’s car lowers speed, falls back and hangs behind Mickey. Headlights off, employing the tricks of the moonshine trade until his car completely vanishes into the darkness.

INT. MICKEY’S GASSER

Undeterred, Mickey grips down on the wheel. Checks the rearview again. Nothing. All of a sudden, Red Sam reappears off a turn road. Headlights glowing.

EXT. ROADWAY

Red Sam rams the side of Mickey’s car like a bull shark. A nasty hit -- causing Mickey to swerve wildly across rutted road, shifting left and right.

INT. MICKEY’S GASSER

Mickey makes a hard right hand turn, charges up a steep hilly road as Red Sam’s car thunders behind him.

EXT. ROADWAY

Mickey laughs wildly and pulls ahead, advancing along the winding mountain road. He throws his car into second gear, cocks the wheel and kicks the accelerator.

On sudden, he’s rear ended once again by Red Sam but this time skids around into a total one-eighty degree turn, tearing back down the road.

INT. MICKEY’S GASSER

Within moments, Mickey winds down his window and tosses out a metal bucket of tacks from his passenger seat floor, blanketing the road and shredding Red Sam’s tires as the car thrusts forward --

EXT. ROADWAY

The Chevy lashes out of control, rips across the road and slams Mickey’s gasser up against a jagged cliff side, effectively immobilizing him.

INT. MICKEY’S GASSER

Mickey urgently tries the driver’s side door. Jammed. Red Sam gazes upon him from his car window, trapped like helpless prey.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD

Red Sam gets out of the car, calmly walks over. Makes a clicking sound with his tongue. A glint of moonlight reveals a billy club in his hand. Mickey blanches.

In swift motion, he smashes the driver side window, leans in and bashes the club over Mickey’s shifting hand.

MICKEY Sweet Jesus!

Mickey howls, horrified by Red Sam’s brutality. Red Sam doesn’t blink, he slips his hand into his coat pocket and produces a pistol. Mickey stares stunned at him.

MICKEY (CONT'D) Don’t kill me... jes' take me in.

Unflinching, Red Sam aims his gun. Mickey throws his arms up, covers his face.

RED SAM Not gonna kill you.

Mickey’s arms drop to his side and cowers back.

RED SAM (CONT'D) But gotta make certain you not up and about again.

Red Sam points his pistol and shoots Mickey in his driving foot, ripping a hole through his boot. Crimson blood spills out from ruptured leather.

MICKEY Lord Gawd, fuck!

Red Sam abruptly reaches into the car, unlocks the door and pulls it open. He yanks Mickey out by the shirt collar in a paroxysm of fright and drags his body to the roadside, tumbling him into a ditch.

RED SAM Gonna take your car for a spin.

INT. MICKEY’S GASSER

Red Sam restarts the ignition and peels back onto the road, shooting off into the night at 100 mph.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - MINUTES LATER

Frog reappears from the woods, makes out the outline of Mickey’s crumpled body, motionless on the side of the road. He starts walking fast towards him, hearing low, pathetic moans.

INT. SHORTY’S BRICK PIT BBQ - LATER

Jacob sits at the counter, sips a cup of coffee and fills out a crossword. The Revenuer deaths still weighing heavily on his mind.

Nearby, Sadie attends to her customers and gazes over at him. She takes an order then walks over to him.

SADIE What’d you and your daddy fight about Jacob?

JACOB ‘Suppose we got different views.

SADIE Seems like it.

They tear their attention away to the window. As a Ford Coupe screeches into the parking lot and grates to a halt. The doors fling open, Skillet, Byron and Frog jump out of the car.

SKILLET (calls out) Jacob, les go!

Jacob slides off his stool, an uneasy glance with Sadie.

EXT. SHORTY’S BRICK PIT BBQ

Jacob exits the restaurant and comes out to meet the crew. The air is taut. He looks around at them.

JACOB Boys, what’s going on?

SKILLET Mickey. They got him Jacob.

JACOB What you mean?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

SKILLET Frog found him on the side of the road. Bastard revenuer left him there to die.

JACOB Where’s he now?

SKILLET Hospital.

Jacob processes.

BYRON Dis a declaration of war. Revenuers don’t shoot hard drivers. I say hand fer hand, foot fer foot, burn fer burn.

FROG I saw him. He ain’t like the others. He’s fast. Just as fast as y’all. They got a real driver on their side now, an’ he took Mickey’s car.

JACOB I’ll go see Mick.

SKILLET We’re gonna be moving the stash.

Jacob nods.

JACOB Find yawl later then.

The crew breaks and gets back into Skillet’s car, fish- tails off down the road. Jacob locks eyes with Sadie at the bottom of the steps in the cold night air.

SADIE Had my suspicions for awhile. I didn’t want to believe it.

JACOB What er you talkin’ bout, Sadie?

SADIE You don’t just make money from racing. Your daddy knows it too. You run shine.

JACOB Sadie, I can’t talk ‘bout this now. I gotta go.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (2)

Sadie gives him an unwavering stare.

SADIE Don’t lie to me, Jacob. I can’t stand liars.

He stands in place.

JACOB Come with me. I’ll explain later.

INT. HOSPITAL - CORRIDOR

Jacob and Sadie head down the hall. Sadie pauses at a patient’s door, glances into the darkened room.

Mickey is unconscious in a hospital bed. Face swollen, bloodied and battered. His lip is busted and his hand bandaged up.

INT. HOSPITAL - PATIENT ROOM - NIGHT

Jacob steps into the room, moves over to Mickey and places a pack of cigarettes on top of the bed stand.

MICKEY (mutters) Jacob?

Mickey pops an eye open, breathing scarcely.

JACOB Yeah Mickey, it’s me. Wanted to come by and see you.

MICKEY Thanks, brother.

Mickey smiles, taking laborious breaths.

JACOB Tell me who did this.

Beat. Mickey peers up at the cracked ceiling.

MICKEY Ah donno. Never seen him before. But thar's always been a code about the chase with revenuers an' lawmen, ya know?. Dis guy don’t follow it. Took my car so he can go fast as us.

Jacob nods. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

JACOB I figured so.

MICKEY Felt like I wuz starin’ at the devil’s henchman. Had these cold eyes. When he stepped into the light saw a birthmark at his forehead, as if drops of blood were trickling down his skull.

JACOB We’ll find him.

MICKEY Sorry I brought you into this.

JACOB This was my choice.

MICKEY It’s yo' crew now, Jacob. Reckon I cain't run shine anymore. He made sure of it. Marry that girl Sadie. Have a yardful of kids.

JACOB Not over, Mick.

Jacob takes a cigarette from his pack, puts it up to Mickey’s mouth and lights it.

JACOB (CONT'D) We’re in this together.

INT. HOSPITAL - CORRIDOR

Sadie stands against the hallway, awaiting Jacob. She turns her head and sees Dean Turner coming down the corridor. He tips his hat and acknowledges Sadie with a smile as he enters Mickey’s room.

DEAN Young lady.

INT. HOSPITAL - PATIENT ROOM

Dean removes his hat, regards Jacob and Mickey.

DEAN Lordy, Lordy. You are one pathetic sight, Mickey.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

JACOB Hello, Mr. Turner.

Dean moves closer to the hospital bed.

DEAN Jacob, my nephew an' I need to discuss some family affairs.

Jacob rises from his chair.

JACOB ‘Course. Get better, Mickey.

MICKEY Be good, Jacob.

An ominous silence. Dean watches Jacob go, gives Mickey a hard look, sits down in an empty chair beside him.

DEAN You po’ boy.

INT. HOSPITAL - CORRIDOR

Jacob steps out of the room. Sadie is no longer there. He peers down the hallway. She disappears out into the dark.

EXT. HOSPITAL - FRONT ENTRANCE

Jacob chases after Sadie heading towards the open road. He catches up, gently tugs her arm back.

JACOB Sadie, wait.

SADIE Same thing’s gonna happen to you. I want nothin’ to do with it.

Jacob leans in, puts his hand on her shoulders.

JACOB I need this money. Revenuers cain't outrun me. This is only temporary.

SADIE How long you been runnin’ shine for Mickey’s uncle?

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

JACOB Not long. I do what I need to. My pa’s barely holdin’ his head above water at the shop. These drivers er good guys, shine keeps em' out of the mines. Don’t bother nobody.

SADIE Are you not thinkin’? My Dad’s the sheriff, Jacob. They’ll take you to the jail-house. I cain't.

JACOB Don’t say that. You know we have something, something worth it.

Sadie manages a reluctant smile, look in her eyes seems to confirm his sentiment.

SADIE Sorry Jacob, that’s how it’s gonna have to be. Now I’m bone-tired, I’m going home.

She brushes past him, leaving Jacob's side.

EXT. HOSPITAL ROOM - MINUTES LATER

Dean gingerly examines Mickey’s injuries, turns his bandaged hand over, a paternal smile draws on his face.

DEAN Heck. Really did a number on you.

MICKEY He wanted to kill me.

Dean nods his head.

DEAN Maybe he should’ve.

MICKEY This guy thinks like a moonshiner. He was a shadow on me. Drove like a tornado.

DEAN Mickey, you have one job to du an' that’s runnin’ that liquid lightning down those hills 'thout losin’ my product. That’s all I’ve ever ask of you an' I’m always so generous to you.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

With downcast eyes, Mickey makes a feeble cry.

MICKEY Yessuh, I know. I du. I’m sorry.

Dean carefully takes Mickey’s bandage hand and holds it tightly with his hand. Mickey winces. Tears well.

DEAN You need to pray.

Mickey flinches. Dean presses down on his broken hand, squeezing harder and harder, tighter and tighter.

MICKEY Ah, please, I tried! I tried to get away --

DEAN Shh, shh, you pray, boy. You pray fer my forgiveness, Mickey. Pray long an' hard cause blood kin is the enduringest of all.

Unsmiling, Dean presses down full-strength and digs his thumbs into Mickey’s shattered hand. Blue veins bulge from his forehead.

Mickey arches his back, spindly legs kicking as he cries like a baby. Dean covers his mouth so he cannot scream.

DEAN (CONT'D) Don’t you cry.

Once again he grabs Mickey’s hand even harder.

DEAN (CONT'D) You brought this on yourself. You know that! Dickerin’ around in those hills. Made a fool outta me ternight. That just runs me crazy.

Mickey squeals and struggles as Dean holds him down, aggravating his injury even further.

DEAN (CONT'D) ‘Cause I ain’t no fool.

INT. TABERNACLE - NEXT DAY

A jungle of hands raised in praise as a SERPENT HANDLER walks down the aisle with a rattle snake lifted over his head. Pappy and Lisbeth are lumped together with the congregation in the pews, singing along to a hymn.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

SERPENT HANDLER Shake the sin from yo' bodies!

Sadie glances over at Lisbeth. They exchange smiles. Lisbeth leans against her father and lowers her voice.

LISBETH Daddy that’s Jacob's girlfriend, Sadie.

PAPPY Jacob has a girlfriend?

Lisbeth nods with a smile. The Pastor steps up to the pulpit and looks out upon his parishioners.

THE PASTOR Behold, I was shapen in iniquity an' in sin did my mother conceive me. Aye gonnies, we are born with sin but we must bring our churren to salvation. ‘Cause the Lord is watching us Kentuckians.

The Pastor vigorously nods his head, eyes widened and points his finger up heavenward at the ceiling.

THE PASTOR (CONT'D) He knows. Knows there’s menace poisoning our community, our younguns and' attacking our civility with a dangerous cornucopia of drunks an' gamblers. Blasphemers and whoremongers. We mus' come together and put an end to these obscene races in Bourbon. Cause they got the devil in em’.

Lisbeth’s eyes drift to the side, watches her father as he stares fixedly at the Preacher.

PASTOR Now, ask for His merciful kindness! Do you repent?!

PARISHIONERS PASTOR (CONT'D)

Repent! Raise y’hands! Give Him praise and glory! * Hallelujah!

Around them, several exhorting parishioners fall down, crying out with their bodies jerking on the floor.

EXT. BACKWOODS - NIGHT FALL

At the side of a rundown square-logged Sharecropper’s cabin, Jacob and Byron stand -- shooting up mason jars across a series of naked tree stumps. BANG! BANG! BANG! Jacob holds his smoking pistol steady, checks his shot.

BYRON Not bad.

Byron nods, reloads his pistol. Skillet and Frog hang back on a broken down wood fence along the property.

SKILLET Need to be packin’ on runs. If push comes to shove, we land a bullet between any Revenuer’s eyes that shoots at us. ‘Nuff said.

Jacob takes aim and FIRES -- shatters another mason jars into a million little pieces.

BYRON Skillet’s right and with Mickey out now we’ve got Dean Turner’s boy Phoebus ridin’ us hard to run more shine.

Jacob turns back to them.

JACOB Got somethin’ needs to be said, want you guys to know I’m gonna finish ‘til the end of the month then I’m out.

Byron’s eyebrow raises, absorbs the blow.

BYRON What you mean you’re out? Season’s not o’er yet.

JACOB My pa needs me in the shop but givin’ you my word, I’ll finish this next batch.

Jacob tucks his pistol behind him and walks off.

INT. SHORTY’S BRICK PIT BBQ - NIGHT

At the counter, Sadie steadies an almost empty bottle of ketchup upside-down on a nearly full ketchup bottle. The brass entry bells jingle.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

Jacob squeezes through the door. Sadie notices but hardly acknowledges him.

JACOB Got any brisket left?

SADIE We’re done for the day.

She runs a dish towel across the counter.

JACOB Can you hear me out?

Sadie gives him a hard stare.

SADIE Said what I needed to.

JACOB I’m quitin’. Need to sort things out then I’m done for good.

SADIE When you do, you know where to find me. What you’re doing. It’s not living decently.

JACOB Come on, I want you to go with me to the Cherry-Bounce Festival.

Sadie shakes her head.

SADIE No, Jacob.

JACOB Haven’t been able to get you outta my mind since that drive, Sadie. That’s the honest truth.

She glances around the restaurant, there are barely any customers tonight.

EXT. CHERRY-BOUNCE FESTIVAL - NIGHT

Jacob guides Sadie by the hand through a path lit by lanterns into hordes of revelers coalescing around a bonfire deep in the backwoods.

An Appalachian bacchanal unfolds before their eyes, enlivened with goose-pulling, bare-naked dancing and moonshine passed around freely. Sadie dances her eyes around the wild faces. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

JACOB Whole ‘nother side a Bourbon.

SADIE I’d say.

Mickey sees them and gambols over on a crutch, past a jamboree of piss-drunk hill folk.

MICKEY Jacob, you’re here! And you brought Ms. Sadie. Care fer a drink?

Mickey offers up two jars of moonshine in his hands.

SADIE Oh, why not?

Sadie takes a cup, tastes. Mouth cries foul.

SADIE (CONT'D) Gonna have to finish that for me.

She returns the cup to Mickey. He gulps it down.

MICKEY Every man has his own recipe for making shine. Mine is full- flavored and one hundred proof.

SADIE Glad you’re back on your feet.

MICKEY One foot fer now. Yawl enjoy yourselves. We gonna celebrate!

Mickey winks at Jacob, joins with a frolicking group of bare-chested women who mash their dirty feet to a jaunty fiddle band, echoing the community’s ties to Ulster.

SADIE Friend Mickey is skunked.

JACOB Yep. Pretty much.

INT. BACKWOODS - LATER

Sadie follows Jacob through clumps of thick bushes to where two tranquil gullies meet, making their way towards a whiskey still in full operation hidden inside a deep cave with a waterfall in it.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED:

SADIE So, this is where you make shine.

JACOB I don’t make it. Mickey does. I just drive it.

SADIE Still breaking the law, Jacob.

JACOB Why should we struggle? It’s the fifties, folks are living well in those big cities. Ever'one but us. We don’t got opportunities they do. Government need revenues for what? That money never comes here. Don’t have good roads. Don’t have good nothing.

SADIE There’s other ways, Jacob.

Jacob shakes his head.

JACOB Not in Bourbon County that’s for sure. I had nothin’ else goin’ for me ‘cept that shop. Now? I’m savin’ a bunch of money. There’s a promoter from Louisville said I could make a living racing one day for NASCAR. Not gonna be running shine forever.

SADIE I don’t wanna lose you, Jacob. They catch you, you’ll serve time. I got no use for that.

JACOB They won’t. I’m fast an' I’m not gonna let you outta my sight.

Sadie studies his face.

SADIE You’re a mass of paradoxes, know that Jacob?

JACOB No, I’m a pretty simple guy. But I know there’s one thing in this world that makes me happy, happier than I’ve ever been. It’s you.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: (2)

A moment between them. Sadie hesitates.

SADIE Think I’m falling for you, Jacob.

Jacob guides his hands to her hips, stares into her eyes, presses his forehead against hers.

JACOB Good thing. ‘Cause I’m gonna marry you one day, Sadie Rathbone.

Jacob tilts her chin and softly kisses Sadie on the lips. She kisses him back. They lock eyes. Jacob lowers her body to the pine-covered ground, unclips her bow and allows her raven hair to fall over her shoulders.