Representative Plays by American Dramatists: 1856 to 1911: In Mizzoura written by Augustus Thomas
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Augustus Thomas >> Representative Plays by American Dramatists: 1856 to 1911: In Mizzoura
JIM. No, I'm here because _she_ likes _you_--if she didn't like you
'twouldn't make any difference to me how quick we came to terms; but
she likes you--your Pinkerton friend--[_Pause. Indicating neck._]
dead--the boys are up at the Court House. Clark is pretty hot about
them Jumbo bottles, and they wouldn't be reasonable--my hoss is
standing at the door--with anything like a fair start he can hold his
own--Louisiana town is eleven miles away, and jist across from that is
Illinois--and then you'll have to look out for yourself--now go!
KATE. [_With emotional appreciation._] Jim!
JIM. [_With a restraining gesture._] Never mind, Kate.
TRAVERS. You tell me to go?
JIM. [_Pause._] Yes.
TRAVERS. Why, there's ten thousand dollars' reward--
JIM. For the man that--went--in--that--car--but you ain't that man.
TRAVERS. On your horse?
JIM. Yes.
TRAVERS. Kate--[_Starts toward her._
KATE. [_Shrinking._] Oh--h!
TRAVERS. [_Holds out hand._] Jim Radburn!
JIM. No--I give you my horse, but I'm _damned_ if I shake hands with
you--!!
_Exit_ TRAVERS. KATE _sinks in chair sobbing._ JIM _in doorway regards
her tenderly._
CURTAIN.
ACT IV.
SCENE. _Exterior of_ JIM RADBURN'S _cabin-front, stoop and steps
showing. Rail-fence partly broken down is across the stage at right
and continues in painting on the panorama back-drop of rough country
with stacks of cord wood. Many stumps showing. A mud road winds into
the distance, a stile crosses fence._
DISCOVERED. JIM _on step with pencil and queer note-paper, writing on
a piece of broken board._
JIM. Hello! Dropped my pencil. [_Picks it up._] Of course fell on the
"buttered side," an' I've got to whittle it agin. [_Takes enormous
knife from his pocket and opens it._
_Enter_ EM'LY, _with milk-pails filled._
EM'LY. Say, Jim--
JIM. [_Whets knife on boot._] Well?
EM'LY. You let the pony out?
JIM. [_Sharpens pencil._] No.
EM'LY. Ain't in his stall.
JIM. I know. [EM'LY _looks at_ JIM _a moment and exits back of
house. Looking at paper._] I reckon that's right--Mayor and City
Council--[_Writes--first wetting pencil in his mouth._] Huh--I
s'pose I ought to write it in ink--dog gone it--[_Writing through his
speech._] If it wasn't for Em'ly I wouldn't care--not a damn--[_Looks
up._] I wonder whether it's U.G. or E.G. [_Writes._] I'll jus' kinder
round off the top an' play it both ways. "Resignation," and after
that, why they kin see me personally.
_Re-enter_ EM'LY, _with pails empty._ EM'LY _sings._
EM'LY. [_Pause._] Who did let him out?
JIM. Who?
EM'LY. Pony.
JIM. Me.
EM'LY. Why, I thought you said you didn't.
JIM. Well, not to pasture; I give him to a feller.
EM'LY. [_Surprised._] Give him?
JIM. Yes.
EM'LY. Why?
JIM. [_With meaning._] He needed him awful bad. [_Writes._
EM'LY _stands looking at him a moment; then turns to go._
EM'LY. Say! [_Puts pails down._
JIM. What?
EM'LY. Here comes Sam.
JIM. [_Writing and not looking up._] Bully!
EM'LY. You want him?
JIM. No, but I reckon you will.
EM'LY. [_Smiling._] Git out.
JIM. [_Writing._] "P.S. This goes into effect from last night, and is
a copy--Joe Vernon has the original document."
EM'LY. [_On the stile. Looking off._] Hello!
SAM. [_Off._] Hello!
_Enter SAM._
EM'LY. Awful glad.
SAM. Hello, Jim.
JIM. Hello, Sam.
SAM. Know where your pony is?
JIM. Gone East.
SAM. He's in Louisiana.
JIM. Who's got him?
SAM. Why, ain't you heard?
JIM. Ain't heard nothing this morning.
EM'LY. What?
SAM. [_To_ JIM.] Travers stole him. [_To_ EMILY.] Stole Jim's pony
after shootin' the Pinkerton.
EM'LY. Why, Jim--
JIM. Never mind, Em'ly. [_To_ SAM.] Who told you?
SAM. The fellers. You know Travers was--er--
EM'LY. The train-robber--yes, you told us last night that--
SAM. Yes, but I mean you know he was--killed?
JIM. [_Rising. With some interest._] Killed? When?
SAM. Last night--didn't you know?
JIM. No.
SAM. [_Puzzled._] Why, I thought you did--why, the fellers said--why,
dog gone it, they were blamed funny about it--they said, "Oh, I reckon
Jim knows"--then stuck their tongues this way in their jaw--I thought
maybe--[_Pantomimes pulling trigger._
JIM. No, hadn't even heard of it.
SAM. Going to run an extra this morning--over a dozen goin' down just
to see. Thought maybe Em'ly 'd like to go 'long and take a look at the
remains.
EM'LY. [_Eagerly._] Jim!
JIM. You're going, are you, Sam?
SAM. Why, calculated to.
JIM. Well, I wish you'd stay home this mornin' and kind a look after
Em'ly.
SAM. Certainly.
JIM. I'm goin' to be pretty busy, I think, eh?
SAM. [_Willing to stay._] Sure.
_Exit_ JIM _into house._
EM'LY. Something's worrying Jim. [_Crosses to porch._
SAM. I guess this fellow's getting away last night.
EM'LY. No, something else. The operator waked me up after twelve
o'clock with a telegram--an' Jim answered it, and then got up and
dressed himself, and took both his guns and sat out on the porch
here--oh, for an hour.
SAM. Telegrams, eh?
EM'LY. Yes.
SAM. Well, I guess some other robbery or something. A sheriff has so
much of that.
EM'LY. I know. But Jim's worried.
SAM. Well, I couldn't sleep myself last night.
EM'LY. Me neither. After you left here, and a-telling me about it, it
seemed I could see Travers shooting the man's neck every time I closed
my eyes.
SAM. He's a good deal better this morning.
EM'LY. Who?
SAM. The Pinkerton that was shot.
EM'LY. The Pinkerton?
SAM. Yes.
EM'LY. I thought he was dead.
SAM. Oh, that's what Clark said--but the other doctor turned him over
and got him breathing again.
EM'LY. I'm so glad--poor fellow--and Jim kicked him so
yesterday--clean across that stile.
SAM. When he come here?
EM'LY. Yes, with that letter.
SAM. Speakin' of letters, I got one myself this morning.
EM'LY. [_Gets letter from pocket._] Who from?
SAM. Looks like a girl wrote it.
EM'LY. What!
SAM. It's in typewritin' an' so I guess a girl did write it--but its
from the company.
EM'LY. More mean things?
SAM. Nicer than pie. See _here_, [_Reads:_] "_And regretting deeply
our error, we of course cannot deal with any lawyer, but would be
pleased with a personal call from you--your salary awaits you for the
time you have been absent--_"
EM'LY. [_Indignantly._] Been absent!
SAM. And they having me locked up in a hotel.
EM'LY. I should say so.
SAM. [_Reading:_]--"_been absent. And we can guarantee your regular
employment in our offices here or at any other station you may prefer.
Yours very truly, etc.,--Superintendent._"
EM'LY. Well, what do you think?
SAM. Not much--Bollinger says we can get twenty thousand dollars.
EM'LY. I know--that's what he told Jim too--he wanted us to put off
the wedding.
SAM. Jim?
EM'LY. No--Bollinger--
SAM. Why?
EM'LY. He said it would make a stronger case.
SAM. [_Resenting the idea._] Well, see here, Em'ly--
EM'LY. I'm only telling you what Bollinger said.
SAM. Put off our wedding?
EM'LY. He said for about two months.
SAM. What's he take me for?
EM'LY. Jim heard him.
SAM. What did Jim say?
EM'LY. He said--why, he said that was about ten thousand a month, just
for waiting.
SAM. No, sir-ee.
EM'LY. An' Bollinger, tryin' to encourage me, said he'd let his wife
go that long for half the money.
SAM. Well, do you think it's right?
EM'LY. What?
SAM. Why, this postponing for damages.
EM'LY. Not if you don't--only Bollinger said it wouldn't hurt any to
wait.
SAM. See here, Em'ly--seems to me you ain't any too anxious you'self.
EM'LY. Well, how can a girl be, Sam--I can't just up and say I won't
wait--especially when they're your damages--I haven't got any right to
say I'm worth ten thousand dollars a month.
SAM. [_Embracing her._] Well, you bet your life you are.
EM'LY. [_Acquiescing._] Well--
_Enter_ DAVE _and_ LIZBETH.
DAVE. Hello, Sam.
SAM. Hello.
LIZBETH. [_Pleased with the example of_ SAM _and_ EM'LY.] Dave!
EM'LY. Why, how do you do?
DAVE. Where's Jim?
SAM. In the house.
LIZBETH. Isn't it awful, Em'ly. [_She and_ EM'LY _go to the little
porch._
SAM. What's the matter?
DAVE. People don't understand it.
SAM. What do you mean?
DAVE. Why, Jim; lots of 'em thinks he did it.
SAM. Did what? Shoot Travers?
DAVE. No, give him that horse--
SAM. Give to him? Git out.
DAVE. Well, you bet they said so, and Bollinger and Sarber and Cal and
lots of them think so.
SAM. [_Astonished._] Git out!
DAVE. Yes, sir-ee.
SAM. They better not say that to me.
DAVE. Why, they'd say it to Jim--you ought to hear them talking at the
convention--
SAM. Is this the day of the convention?
DAVE. 'Tain't come to order yit, but they're all up to the Court
House,--one feller nailed the telegrams on a bulletin where everybody
could read them.
SAM. What telegrams?
DAVE. Why, Jim's.
_Enter_ JIM _from house._
JIM. Mornin', Lizbeth.
LIZBETH. How de do, Jim.
JIM. Kate feelin' all right?
LIZBETH. Well; you know--
JIM. Oh, yes--natural enough--ain't you workin', Dave?
DAVE. Convention.
JIM. Sure. Forgot the convention.
DAVE. Me and Lizbeth come together because we thought Sam and Em'ly'd
stand up with us.
JIM. At the Squire's?
DAVE. No, preacher's.
JIM. I reckon. [_Looks at_ EM'LY.
EM'LY. Of course.
JIM. Convention ain't met?
DAVE. Not yit.
JIM. I think I'll go down to the Court House. [_Starts down and stops
as he reaches the stile._] Hello!
SAM. What's up?
JIM. Nothing'--some o' the boys--comin' here, I expect--Say!
SAM. What?
JIM. I mean Dave.
DAVE. How's that?
JIM. Will you do me a favour?
DAVE. Certainly.
JIM. [_Pointing off right._] This letter--give it to the Mayor, or any
of the Council--some of them's sure to be at the convention.
DAVE. All right. [_He goes onto the stile and stops._] Bollinger's
one, ain't he?
JIM. Yes.
DAVE. He's comin' with them fellers--
JIM. Well, give it to him--a little before he gits here.
DAVE. All right, Jim. [_Starts off--stops._] No trouble, you don't
reckon?
JIM. No, I reckon not.
_Exit_ DAVE.
EM'LY. Jim!
JIM. I want you and Lizbeth to go in the house. Go on!
EM'LY. [_Going._] What's the matter?
JIM. You go with them, Sam--and take care of 'em.
SAM. [_Joining the girls on the porch._] Why, Jim, if there's goin' to
be any trouble--
JIM. [_Watching the coming mob._] I reckon they ain't--and anyway I
want this side of the fence by myself. [_Exeunt_ LIZBETH _and_ EM'LY
_to house._] Take 'em way back to the kitchen.
SAM. [_At the door._] All right?
JIM. Dead sure.
_Exit_ SAM. JIM _removes his paper collar--adjusts the two guns under
his coat-tails--takes a chew of tobacco, and fatefully waits. Enter
back of fence_, BOLLINGER, SARBER, CAL, ESROM, DAVE, _and_ SUPERS;
DAVE _drifts away from them to left._ ESROM _playing Jew's-harp.
All enter when_ JIM _gets through his preparations and leans against
porch._
BOLLINGER. [_Loudly._] Here, stop the band.
SARBER. Stop her.
ESROM _is silent._
BOLLINGER. [Pause.] Hello, Jim. [_His tone carries a nagging
insinuation._
JIM. Hello.
DAVE. I'll tell the old man, Jim. [_Going._
JIM. Oh, no hurry, Dave.
_Exit_ DAVE.
BOLLINGER. Well, they killed our friend down at Louisiana last night.
[JIM _chews and nods once._] Where's your pony?
JIM. [_After pause._] Have you looked in the stable?
BOLLINGER. [_Sneering._] No.
JIM. Well, don't.
BOLLINGER. Didn't calculate to, Jim. [_Pause._] You know what that
fellow said before they shot him.
JIM. [_Shakes his head._] No.
SARBER. [_In quarrelsome bawl. Pointing at_ JIM.] Why, he said--
BOLLINGER. [_Maintaining his leadership._] Hold on! it was understood
I was to do the talkin'.
ALL. Go on! Shut up, Sarber!
SARBER. He was takin' all day fur it.
BOLLINGER. [_Clashing._] I'll take as long as I damn please, and I'll
have the nigger play tunes between times if I want to--
ALL. Go on, Bollinger!
BOLLINGER. [_Resuming his nag of_ JIM.] Know what he said?
JIM. [_Pause. Chews and shakes head._] Don't care.
BOLLINGER. He said you _give_ him the pony.
JIM. You _hear_ him say so?
BOLLINGER. No, but the boys down Louisiana did; they knowed it was
your pony, and they arrested him.
SARBER. [_Again intruding._] Then they telegraphed you--
BOLLINGER. Hold on! [_Growl from_ MOB.] They didn't know he was the
train-robber--only thought he was a hoss thief--so they held him while
they telegraphed you--[JIM _nods. Pause._] That's the way we got on to
him--the operator showed us the message--[_Pause._ JIM _nods._] Showed
us your answer, too. [_Pause._ JIM _nods._] Here's a copy of it marked
Exhibit B. "The man tells the truth. The pony is his'n.--Jim Radburn."
SARBER. And we saw the original.
JIM _nods_.
BOLLINGER. [_His anger now lifting his tone into police court
tirade._] While we were waiting up at the Court House where you told
us to go--and I didn't have a durn thing but a butcher knife--you were
a-standin' in with this feller and a-givin' him your boss to git away
on.
SARBER. [_In same manner._] And durn good reason--Sam Fowler stood in
with him, an' he's a-goin' to marry your sister--in the house now--I
kin see him at the kitchen window. [_All growl, and half start over
the stile toward kitchen._
JIM. [_With sudden vehemence._] Hold on! [_Impressive pause; and quiet
by_ CROWD.] You better talk it over with me first.
BOLLINGER. Well, you give him the pony, didn't you? [JIM _is silent._]
_Didn't_ you?
JIM. What's that to you?
BOLLINGER. [_Half laughing._] Well--what is it to us--
_All laugh derisively._
ESROM. [_Emboldened to participate._] I knew 'twasn't no clinker in de
coke, 'cause he frowed de mud in it and--
BOLLINGER. Shoot that nigger.
SARBER. Shut up! [_Smashes_ NIGGER _in the mouth._
BOLLINGER. [_To_ JIM.] Well, say--[_Pause._] That was a fine way for a
sheriff to do,--wasn't it?
JIM. I've resigned.
BOLLINGER. I got your letter. You hadn't resigned last night; you know
there's a law for you, Mr. Radburn.
JIM. That's all right.
BOLLINGER. _You'll_ have to "do time."
JIM. [_Smiling._] When?
BOLLINGER. This session--you git a taste of the jug this morning.
JIM. Not this morning!
BOLLINGER. Well, we'll see--you go with us.
_Murmur and start._
JIM. [_Again in sudden warning._] Hold on, boys--[_Pause and recovery
of calm._] I claim everything this side of the fence. Now I know it
ain't sociable, but I don't want you to come in. Whenever the District
Attorney gits his witnesses together, I'll be there, but I won't go
this mornin'--[_Pause._] and anyhow I won't go with such a mangy lot
of heelers as you've scraped up this trip.
BOLLINGER. I reckon you will, Jim.
_Murmur and movement._
JIM. Hold on--[_Pause, with both hands on guns._] I don't want to
break my record, but I'll have to do it if you trespass on the lawn.
BOLLINGER. [_Discreetly on stile. After a pause._] I hope you don't
think we're scared, Jim?
JIM. No--ain't anything to be scared about, Tom--as long as you stay
outside.--Keep off the grass.
BOLLINGER. [_His irritation returning. Threateningly._] And don't you
dare to draw a gun on any of us. Say, Sarber--go down to the Court
House and git a warrant. If you had a warrant we could walk right in.
MRS. VERNON. [_Off._] Now, Kate, be careful.
_Enter_ KATE _and_ MRS. VERNON _over the stile--the_ MOB _parting to
admit them._
KATE. What is the matter? Jim!
JIM. Won't you come in? Howdy, Mrs. Vernon?
KATE _and_ MRS. VERNON _come on._
KATE. [_Anxiously. To_ JIM.] What do these men want? [_To_ BOLLINGER.]
What is the trouble here?
BOLLINGER. [_Pointing at_ JIM.] Malfeasance.
KATE. What?
BOLLINGER. Why, Miss Kate, he gave his horse to a man he ought to have
arrested--a train-robber--a murderer--and--
JIM. Hold on, Bollinger--man's dead, and he used to be a friend to
these ladies.
KATE. [_Crosses to the_ MEN.] No--do not speak of him--we thought he
was a friend--but why do you accuse Mr. Radburn?
JIM. No use talkin', Kate, they know.
BOLLINGER. You bet.
JIM. Lizbeth's inside--you an' Kate better go in, Mrs. Vernon.
KATE. No. Do you blame this man?
BOLLINGER. Blame him! Why, he's an accessory after the fact, and maybe
before--I don't see how he can git out of it! Here's his telegram,
really better than a plea of guilty--we ought to arrest him!
KATE. [_To_ BOLLINGER.] He is not guilty. [_To_ JIM.] Oh, Jim, Jim!
Can you forgive me? [_She extends her hand._
JIM. [_Taking her hand._] Why, Kate, 'tain't none o' their business.
KATE. No, it is all mine. [_Murmur from_ CROWD.--_To the_ MEN.]
Listen; all of you must know that Mr. Travers was attentive to me--I
believed he was a gentleman--we thought he was a friend--[_Half
crying._] but he never was half the friend--never _could_ be half the
friend that Jim Radburn's been--
JIM. [_Expostulating._] Kate!
KATE. [_To_ JIM.] Yes, I know all about it now--my father has told me
all--everything about my college days--I am humiliated to the dust.
JIM. Now, Kate--
KATE. You should have told me in the shop, when I presumed to speak of
your disadvantages.
JIM. [_To_ MEN.] See here--this is a little matter between me and
Kate Vernon--none of your business--so why don't you saunter off? [MEN
_start to go._
KATE. [_To the_ MEN.] No, I want them to stay. I have nothing to say
of Mr. Travers' doings--we were mistaken--but Jim Radburn thought I
cared for the man, and he was big enough to let him escape for _me_--I
am the one at fault--he has almost given up his life to me. You, Col.
Bollinger, and every one knows that he could win his nomination if he
wanted to--[_Turning to_ JIM.]--But he gave that up, too, because Joe
Vernon, my father, wants it. Oh, Jim! Jim! [_Sinks on steps, sobbing._
MRS. VERNON. [_Crosses to her._] There, Kate, I knowed it would be too
much fur you. [_To_ JIM.] She's took on this way since daylight.
JIM. Say, you fellers ain't got spunk enough to keep hoss flies off a
you. What do you want? Cold victuals?
BOLLINGER. Come on, fellers--[_The_ MEN _start off._] hold on, here's
Joe. [MEN _return._
MRS. VERNON. Joe Vernon!
_Enter_ JOE _and_ DAVE.
JOE. What's the matter, Jim? ain't nobody hurt? Why, Kate--
JIM. You made a pretty mess of it, ain't you?
JOE. What?
JIM. [_Pointing to_ KATE.] Tellin' everything.
JOE. Well, that ain't all of it.
JIM. What ain't?
JOE. Why, they put them blamed telegrams up at the convention--I
didn't see them till the fust ballot was over, and they'd nominated
_me_--
MRS. VERNON. For Jefferson, Joe?
JOE. [_In great excitement._] Yes, for the Legislature.
_Cheers from_ CROWD.
JIM. There, Kate, do you hear that? Now, what's the use cryin'?
JOE. And I made a speech--
MRS. VERNON. Git out.
JOE. Git out yourself--
MRS. VERNON. Say, your pa's been nominated, and made a speech!
JOE. Well, lemme tell you--
JIM. Well, never mind the speech, Joe--you're as good as elected
anyhow.
JOE. And you done every bit of it--why, I took them blamed telegrams,
and I told that convention everything I knew. Everything Kate told
me--about your getting off the track 'cause you liked her. Tom, you
told me yourself that Jim wasn't makin' no canvass fur the nomination.
Do you know why? 'Cause he liked my Kate. Last night he gimme his
resignation as sheriff. Do you know why?
BOLLINGER. Afore he give him the hoss?
JOE. Long before--and Jim Radburn, I believe you knowed then who that
feller was, and I told the convention so. He did give Travers the
hoss, and then I said, "He give up his pony to this feller 'cause
he didn't have the heart to make Kate feel bad"--and I said--"What's
Mizzoura--what's Pike County comin' to if we kin persecute a man like
that," and, by golly, they jus' stood on their hind legs and hollered
fur you!
BOLLINGER. I'm a-comin' inside myself if he pulls both guns. [_Comes
over the stile._
JIM. Why, Tom.
_They shake hands._
JOE. An' they're up there now, like a pack of howlin' idiots,
unanimously re-electing you sheriff by acclamation, and "Vivy Vochy,"
over and over agin.
JIM. There, there, Kate--you're goin' to Jefferson soon--an' you kin
forgit all about it.
KATE. I don't want to go to Jefferson, Jim--I don't want to--forget
it. [_Turns, weeps on_ JOE'S _breast._
MRS. VERNON. Now, talk to her, Jim!
JIM. Not now--she feels too bad.
MRS. VERNON. But she'll get over that--she's comin' to her senses, an'
_she knows she likes you_. Talk to her.
JIM. Some other time.
CURTAIN.