EXT.

UPPER MISSOURI RIVER/1820'S - EVENING

on

ANGLE ON A SINGLE COTTONWOOD LEAF... brown and crisp...

clinging to its empty branch... the solitary sign of life
an otherwise barren tree.
A gust of wind... the leaf breaks free... flutters down,
landing in the slow current of the Missouri. The last leaf
of the fall, taking its final journey south.

the

As it floats along the surface, rising and falling with

current, all we can hear is the river's gentle movement...
the trickle of water... the splash of timid rapids...

until

DISTANT VOICES invade this world... soft at first, but

growing louder... LAUGHTER... SINGING.
And then our leaf CRASHES INTO A WOODEN BOARD... the BOW

OF A
we
SANDBAR

Rocky
hauling

BOAT. We hear the VOICES EVEN CLEARER... MEN'S VOICES, as

rise up the bow... see it's a FLATBOAT BEACHED ON A
at the center of the river.
Beyond the flatboat are the voices... TWENTY MEN of the
Mountain Fur Company, making camp along the shore...
wood, building campfires, pitching squares of canvas for
makeshift rooftops. And this camp is full of life because
these are some of the first men to ever see this untouched
wilderness... men with a whole new world just waiting for
them to claim their share.
EXT. CAMP - EVENING
CAPTAIN ANDREW HENRY, (late 20's), dressed in a buckskin
jacket with long fringe... thick belt pulled tightly

around
to
his
palm.

his waist with two pistols and a knife hanging from it. He
stands out among the others... like an imposter pretending
be a member of some exclusive club. He pulls off one of
gloves... examines the BLOOD-FILLED BLISTERS lining his
From across the camp, JOHN FITZGERALD, (40's), solid and
thick... dark eyes of a killer, watches Henry. He nudges

MACE BOONE, (40's), a thief in a previous life.

FITZGERALD
Likely got a splinter. Can't
figure what to do without Mama here
to pull it out for him.