Okay. So, Dylan McDermott and Dawson decided to get together over the summer break and make a movie. Of course, it's summer, so it's hot. They decide to do a Western. And this movie sat on the shelf for how long?
A violin whines in the background. Old-fashioned-style pictures of the "Wild West" float around on the screen. Guns blaze over the soundtrack. A narrator gives us the pre-story. During the American Civil War, the only "lawmen" in southern Texas disbanded to fight for the Confederacy. The narrator explains that back in the day, Leander McNelly, the head of the Texas Rangers, left wife, kids, and parish (he was their preacher) to go and fight for the cause. When he got back, he found his wife and kids gone, stolen by bandits, and he was never the same again. Of course, neither was Texas, because in this story, the state is as much as a character as the men themselves. Go Texas!
Now, the year is 1875. The war has been over for ten years. The bandits have overrun southern Texas, and the governor wants to re-commission the Texas Rangers, so he's looking for Leander McNelly.
It's raining. Texas looks very lush and green. As we pan down to Dylan McDermott, we hear him coughing and panting. He's hacking away at the earth. The man is digging his own grave. He would be sweating if it weren't raining. A group of three men come over the valley and ride down to Leander. Tom Skerritt, or "Richard Dukes," calls out, "Leander. That's a mighty pretty spot for a resting place. Who's the grave for?" It's for him. If he waits too long, the ground will be "froze." Remember, we're in the "Old West." Richard Dukes asks him to come and winter at his ranch. Because it'll be like "old times." Leander responds, "I don't reckon I'll last the winter." In case we didn't get it, the filmmakers would like to establish the ill health of one Leander McNelly, former head of the Texas Rangers. Dukes been sent by the governor, who was hoping Leander would listen to reason and get back in the saddle -- so to speak.
Meanwhile, as the credits roll, a stagecoach plows along a dusty road. Men yell, "Ha-yup." Horses move. Inside the coach, we find Dawson. Some unfortunate makeup person has attached some poorly advised sideburns to each side of his massive head. Six men are crowded into the small traveling space, and they loom backwards, forwards, and sideways, jiggling and joggling as the coach hurtles forward. Dawson's father is blathering on about how one can never underestimate the value of naming a product well. People, we are seeing the birth of marketing. I'll bet you didn't expect that. Blah new product, blah prototype, blah bonding blah. Mr. Denison holds up a package of papers for his son to see, and a necklace falls out. Dawson picks it up, holds it to the light. Mr. Denison says, "It's for your mother." Why didn't he mail it when they were in Austin? "You'll see."