TOWN OF COUNCIL ROCK MUNICIPAL OFFICES
Council Rock was the name of the fictional town in the screenplay, which meant that Playas was already being dressed up as a movie set.
Kerney approached the men who were installing the sign and asked where the production team was meeting. One of the men pointed across the way to the community center, which Kerney found to be locked. He looked through the glass doors. Two long folding tables sat pushed together in the middle of the hall, surrounded by chairs. There were plastic coffee cups, water bottles, soda cans, and documents on the table, but no one inside.
He hung around and watched a crew of men use portable scaffolding to attach new signs to the stepped-back building. Over the next twenty minutes they transformed three doorways into entrances to the Council Rock mayor’s office, municipal court, and police headquarters.
Four black full-size SUVs pulled up to the curb in front of the community center. A dozen people piled out of the vehicles and walked quickly to the community meeting hall entrance. Kerney spotted Johnny Jordan in the middle of the pack, talking animatedly to a tall man carrying a thick three-ring binder and wearing chinos, athletic shoes, and a brand-new straw cowboy hat perched on the back of his head. He tagged along and got close enough to hear the two men exchange heated words about some proposed script changes.
Inside the community center the debate continued as the group took their seats around the tables. Unobtrusively, Kerney stood by the door and watched.
“I want that damn copper smelter in the film as the location for the climax of the chase scene,” the tall man in the new cowboy hat said.
“The climax occurs at the rodeo arena,” Johnny said, looking agitated. “We agreed on that when we finalized the script.”
“We can change the damn script,” the tall man said, as he flipped through the pages of the binder. “For Chrissake, that’s what writers are for. I want the copper smelter for the climax. All that industrial stuff sitting in the middle of a desert is visually stunning. Plus, it makes a great juxtaposition between the cowboy culture and modern society.”
“The brawl at the rodeo arena is the climax,” Johnny shot back.
The tall man stared Johnny down. “Here’s the way I see it: We keep the script as it is right through the scene where the cops scatter the cattle with police helicopters and the rancher hightails it off BLM land through the mountain pass. But instead of having the cops bust them later in the day at the ranch rodeo, we keep the pursuit going to the smelter, where the cops find the cowboys gathering up the strays. We’ll have cowboys on horseback chasing cows in and out of the buildings, cops chasing cowboys on foot and with squad cars, and a brawl that ends in a standoff when the rancher decides to call it quits before anyone gets seriously hurt.”
The tall man turned to a man with glasses on his immediate left, who was studying papers on a clipboard. “Costwise, can we do this?”
“If we drop the rodeo scenes completely, we can.”
“I’ve got world-class champions signed on to this film, expecting to showcase their talents,” Johnny said.
“Maybe they still can,” Kerney said.
All eyes turned toward Kerney.
“Who are you?” the tall man asked.
“Kevin Kerney. I’m one of your technical advisors.”
“Kerney’s here for the cop stuff,” Johnny said, looking flustered. “Not rodeoing.”
“Let Chief Kerney talk,” the tall man said, waving Kerney toward an empty chair. “I’m Malcolm Usher, the director.”
Kerney sat at the table and nodded a hello to all before turning his attention to Usher. “It seems to me, you can show off their rodeo talents through some good old-fashioned cowboying. They can rope cows and cops, do some bulldogging and bronc riding, and cut out stock so that it’s a combined rodeo, brawl, and police bust.”
All the people at the table, including Johnny, waited for Usher’s reaction.
Usher slapped the table with his hand and stood. “I love it. It’s exactly what I had in mind.” He patted the man with the glasses on the shoulder. “Get our stunt coordinator started working out the details. I want cows climbing over squad cars, knocking cops over, barreling through buildings, that kind of stuff. I’m thinking it will be a late-afternoon, early-evening shoot, just like we planned for the rodeo scenes. Probably two days. Schedule us to go back to the smelter tomorrow before sundown.”
The man with the eyeglasses wrote down Usher’s instructions on the clipboard. “We’ll have to come to some agreement to lease the premises. But with the smelter shut down, I doubt the cost will be exorbitant.”
“Good,” Usher said as he closed his three-ring binder and looked at Johnny. “Let’s you and I get together before dinner and sketch out the new scenes for the writers.”
Glumly, Johnny nodded.
“That’s it,” Usher said. “Everybody back here at four a.m. for the tech scout. Charlie will give you your housing assignments, and our schedule for the next two days. For now, we’ll all be crashing in the apartment building.”
Usher left. Charlie, who turned out to be the man wearing the eyeglasses, read off the housing assignments, which had Kerney bunking with Johnny. Charlie told the group that meals would be served by the caterer in the mercantile building, and the tech scout locations would be passed out after dinner.
As the meeting broke up, Johnny introduced Kerney to the people in attendance. The group included the unit production manager, set decorator, transportation captain, construction coordinator, cinematographer, the assistant director, several other lighting specialists, and Charlie Zwick, the producer.
Zwick shook Kerney’s hand and thanked him for his good idea.
“Yeah, thanks a lot,” Johnny said sarcastically, after Zwick left the building.
“Come on, Johnny,” Kerney said. “It was apparent that the director had already made up his mind to change the ending before I spoke up.”
“You don’t get it,” Johnny snapped. “I’m trying to build public interest in rodeoing with this movie. Get people excited about the sport, make it a major ticket draw. Now that’s not going to happen. Instead, film-goers are just gonna see what they think are a bunch of neat horseback and cowboy stunts as part of a brawl.”
Kerney pushed open the door and stepped outside. “I wasn’t trying to thwart you.”
Johnny took the cell phone off his belt and flipped it open. “It sure felt that way. I’ve got some phone calls to make. I’ll see you later.” Johnny hurried across the parking lot with the cell phone planted in his ear.
Kerney decided to let Johnny chill out before going to the apartment. He didn’t want to face a contentious evening with Johnny ragging on him about not getting his way. It was a good two hours before dinner. He decided to drive to the smelter to take a look at the place that had inspired Malcolm Usher to change the script. Besides, he wanted to see the Star of the North that Officer Sapian had told him about.
The paved road from Playas to the copper smelter paralleled a railroad spur that connected with the main trunk line east of Lordsburg, a windblown desert town on Interstate 10 that served as the seat of government for Hidalgo County.
The valley widened a bit as Kerney headed south, deep into the Bootheel. To the west the Animas Mountains cut a broad, foreboding swath against the sky. To the east the Little Hatchet Mountains, drenched in afternoon sunlight, were buff gold at the peaks.
Farther southeast the Big Hatchet Mountains rose up, pointing the way to Mexico and the Alamo Hueco Mountains at the border, where, according to what Kerney had read, once a year in the spring buffalo came up from the Chihuahua Desert to forage. He thought it would be great to see that.