Chapter 5

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.