FADE IN: EXT. WINNEMUCCA, SHERIFF'S OFFICE, NEVADA TERRITORY, 1873, DAY A horse and rider come up the main street at a walk. The rider is a woman, which is the first unusual thing. The second unusual thing is what she is leading behind her: a man on foot, wrists roped to her saddle horn, head down, doing his best to keep pace. RUTH CALLOWAY (42) is compact, weather-beaten, straight in the saddle with the posture of someone for whom riding is not recreation but work. Her coat is dun-colored and practical. Her hat has seen ten years of sun. Her face is angular with Paiute lineage visible in her cheekbones and the set of her jaw. She does not look back at the man she is leading. The man is HARLAN DRUSE (54), cattle rustler, and he is not doing well. He is doing what men do when they have run from something for four days and lost: he is putting one foot in front of the other and trying to retain some dignity and failing at the dignity part. Ruth pulls up at the sheriff's office. Gets down. Ties off. SHERIFF NED GAULT (58) appears in the doorway, hands in his vest pockets, already knowing what this is. GAULT That Druse? RUTH That's Druse. Gault looks at the man. The man looks at the dirt. GAULT He give you trouble? RUTH Some. Inside the office, Ruth sets the rope on Gault's desk while1