ACT III.
SCENE. Same as ACT I, but tidy. Doors closed and lamp lighted. Song in blacksmith shop before rise of curtain.
DISCOVERED. DAVE and LIZBETH playing checkers on home-made board. EM'LY and SAM looking on. JOE reading. KATE in walking dress looking out window. MRS. VERNON with glasses mending some garments.
JOE. [Annoyed by song—frets. Goes to the door.] Here, you boys—don't hang around that shop; go up in the square an' sing.
MRS. VERNON. What you sen' 'em away fur?
JOE. Oh, it's one o' them blamed "mother" songs. Nobody ever sings anything about father—except the "Old man's drunk again," or somethin' like that.
DAVE. Your move, Lizbeth.
LIZBETH. [Petulantly.] Don't I know it?
SAM. Move there.
DAVE. Hold on, I can't beat both of you.
LIZBETH. Don't tell me, Sam. I'd a moved there anyway. Come on, Dave.
KATE. [Solus.] A whole hour longer; I cannot wait.
MRS. VERNON. What's fretting you, Kate?
KATE. Everything.
MRS. VERNON. [Indicates the melodeon.] Play something.
KATE. I can't play on that melodeon, mother.
MRS. VERNON. Poor old melodeon! for all the music we git out of it—might as well be a folding bed.
ESROM. [Appearing at window.] I knowed they oughtn't be any clinker in that coke.
JOE. [From his paper.] That's all right, Esrom.
ESROM. Don't want no mo' coke, Mistah?
JOE. No, no, no!
ESROM hands KATE a letter.
ESROM. [Whispering.] He—he wants an answer.
DAVE. Hold on!
LIZBETH. Well, it's a king!
DAVE. Yes—but I move first.
A knock at street door.
JOE. Come in.
Enter JIM.
MRS. VERNON. Good-evenin'.
JOE. [Not turning.] Who is it?
JIM. You're all here, are you?
JOE. [Rising.] Hello, Jim.
JIM. [To JOE.] Hello. [EM'LY goes to him; he puts his arm about her.] How long you been here?
EM'LY. All day.
JIM. What?
JOE goes to the shelf at back and fills his pipe.
EM'LY. So's Sam.
SAM. Mrs. Vernon made us stay to dinner. Then supper.
JOE. Sam didn't feel like seeing the town folks.
JIM. Why?
SAM. Well, I didn't know how they'd feel about it.
JIM. What, think you did do it?
SAM. I didn't know.
JIM. That's just the reason; why, if you hang back, what can they do?
MRS. VERNON. [Explaining.] Well, Em'ly was here.
JIM. I know, but Sam ought to have spunk to face 'em. It's got to come and you might as well know where your friends are.
JOE. That's so.
SAM. [Starting to door.] Well, I reckon most of 'em's up at the drug-store.
JIM. [Emphatically.] Walk right in amongst 'em.
SAM. Dog gone it! I ain't ashamed, but if they hint anything I'd feel like smashing 'em—huh!
JIM. You got to.
SAM. All right. [Exit.
JIM. Don't let me stop the game.
LIZBETH. Dave thinks all night.
EM'LY. [To JIM, putting him around.] Where have you been?
JIM. St. Louis. Been to see the railroad people. Say, Joe!
JOE. Yes?
JIM. Sam's got the express people scared.
JOE. How's that?
JIM. Hearin' I was his friend, they hinted to me that they'd like to square it.
JOE. Compromise.
JIM. [Nodding his head.] I worked it up for him. Said Bollinger was a regular terror.
EM'LY. Will the express company have to pay Sam?
JIM. Well, rather. And after they do, Sam ought to go down to their president's office and kick 'em all around the back-yard.
Exit KATE.
JOE. What's ailing Kate?
MRS. VERNON. Seems out o' sorts—mebbe she'll tell me alone. [Exit.
DAVE. [Protesting.] You can't move backwards.
LIZBETH. Well?
DAVE. That's cornered.
JOE. He's got you, Lizbeth.
JIM. Dave!
DAVE. Yes?
JIM. I saw the Wabash folks.
DAVE. Have a talk with them?
JIM. [Hands DAVE a paper.] Yes—there's a memorandum agreement—they'll take all I can give 'em at thirty dollars a car-load.
JOE. What's that?
JIM takes a piece of gumbo from pocket and hands it to JOE.
JIM. [To DAVE.] Now I've got a proposition for you.
DAVE. What?
JIM. You superintend the burnin' of the stuff, and I'll take you in.
DAVE. Why, Jim—[Rises in delight.
JOE. What's this fur?
JIM. Ballast.
JOE. Ballast?
JIM. Yes, that road-bed that washes out. [Pause.] Thirty dollars a car.
JOE. What!
JIM. Me an' Dave.
DAVE. Why, Jim, I ain't got no claim on you.
JIM. You pumped the bellows this morning while I burned it.
DAVE. Well—
JIM. And you want a steady job, don't you?
DAVE. Well—["I should say so," understood; turns to him.
JOE. But see here—[JIM looks at him—waits.]—You goin' into this?
JIM. Wouldn't you, if you got the contract?
JOE. But Dave—Dave's helpin' me!
JIM. You told him to git a job, didn't you?
JOE. Yes—but—
LIZBETH. [Ready for a fight.] An' that's what you told me.
JIM. [Abetting LIZBETH.] Yes.
JOE. But my business needs somebody.
JIM. Then why don't you let them git married?
JOE. An' me support them?
JIM. [In disgust.] Hell!—
JOE. What's the matter?
JIM. Ain't he worth his wages?
JOE. I never said he wasn't.
JIM. [In superlative display.] And he's made nearly a whole set of furniture.
JOE. But if I went to Jefferson, I was goin' to leave this shop with
Dave.
LIZBETH. [With pride.] Dave!
JIM. Well, that's different. See here! You let 'em get married. I only want Dave to superintend this burnin'—it won't take two half-days a week to kind a-look it over—we kin get niggers to do the work, and Dave kin stay here.
LIZBETH. Dave!—
DAVE. [Hushing her.] Sh—
JOE. Well, I'll think it over and—
JIM. [Positively.] No!
JOE. No?
JIM. I can't fool with you, Joe; he gits the girl or we quit.
LIZBETH. An' the girl goes too.
JOE. What?
JIM. Yes, the girl goes too. [Pause and smile.] It's your say, Joe. [Foot on chair.] Well, Joe, it's up to you.
JOE. [Giving up.] Well, I can't help it.
JIM. [Passing the approval to DAVE and LIZBETH.] There's your girl. And you've got a stiddy job! [DAVE and LIZBETH half embrace.] What do you think of that? [To JOE, who is mechanically looking at gumbo.] Thirty dollars per car.
JOE. [Glad to change the subject.] Thirty, eh?
JIM. Every per car—and see here—Joe—
JOE. What?
JIM. [Draws second paper from pocket.] I've fixed up a kind of a resignation here.
JOE. Resignation?
JIM. Yes. I can't tend to this new business and do much work as sheriff, so I'm goin' to resign the sheriff part of it.
JOE. You mustn' do it, Jim—why, you've been keepin' the district like a prayer-meeting!
JIM. Well, somebody else kin sing the Doxology—you turn that into the council fur me.
Enter KATE and MRS. VERNON.
MRS. VERNON. I've put my foot down, Kate,—you can't go.
KATE. I am going.
MRS. VERNON. Joe Vernon, it's time you took a hand a-managin' this family.
JOE. What's the matter?
MRS. VERNON. I've told Kate she can't go out.
JOE. Well, ma,—Kate ain't a child.
MRS. VERNON. Your carelessness'll make her disgrace the whole family.
JOE. Hol' on, ma.
MRS. VERNON. I know what I'm talking about. I see that nigger give
Kate a letter.
JOE. Why, he don't know how to write.
MRS. VERNON. You don't suppose I think the nigger wrote it! It's from someone else.
JOE. Who is it from, Kate?
KATE. I don't care to tell. I'm going out. [Starts.
MRS. VERNON. [Interposes.] No, Kate, you ain't.
JOE. Why, ma—if Kate wants to go walkin'—
MRS. VERNON. All right, she kin walk. But getting letters sneaked to her, and going out to meet a man's another thing. [Persuasively going to her.] Why don't you tell, Kate?
KATE. [Down to end of table.] No one has a right to my letters.
JOE. Of course not. No right, Kate, but your ma's naturally anxious, and she's only tryin' for your good.
KATE. [Ready to weep.] I'm awfully tired of it.
JOE. But you kin tell me—you ain't ashamed of it, air you?
KATE. No, I'm not!
MRS. VERNON. It's Travers, ain't it?
JOE. [Coaxing.] Is it, Kate?
KATE. Yes, it is.
JOE. Well, there, ma—see. [Walks away as though matter were closed.
Crossing left.
MRS. VERNON. Air you losin' your senses, Joe Vernon?
JOE. [Irritated.] The girl's tole you, ain't she?
MRS. VERNON. And jes' what I thought, too. She's goin' to meet him.
KATE. Well, what of it? You're polite enough to his face.
MRS. VERNON. Of course, if he'll come here like a man. But when I was a gurl—it'd a been an insult fur a man to send a note askin' her to meet him after dark.
JOE. [Loudly chaffing.] Oh, ma—now don't forget—
MRS. VERNON. You upholdin' her? Jim, that's the way I have to fight to keep this family straight. What's your opinion?
JIM. Well, 'tain't no business o' mine, Mrs. Vernon, and—
MRS. VERNON. Do you like his looks?
JIM. [Pause.] He ain't jes' my kind—but may be he don't like mine.
MRS. VERNON. Do you uphold his sending letters to Kate?
JIM. Why, Mrs. Vernon, I can't blame other men fur likin' Kate.
MRS. VERNON. Meetin' them after dark?
JIM. Kate knows how I feel about her—[Pause.] And if she wanted my opinion I'd give it to her—but on the other hand—I've got an awful lot o' confidence in Kate.
MRS. VERNON. Why don't you answer his letter, Kate, an' say you'll be happy to receive him at your home? He won't think none the less of you.
KATE. I've promised to meet him, and I'm going to keep the appointment.
MRS. VERNON. Is she, Joe?
JOE. Well, ma, I can't tie her.
MRS. VERNON. Take Lizbeth with you.
KATE. I don't want Lizbeth with me.
LIZBETH. I won't play proprietary for her!
KATE. [Starting up.] I'm going alone. [Crosses right.
MRS. VERNON. [With her back to street door.] Not this door, you ain't.
KATE. Then the other. [Exits, followed by MRS. VERNON.
MRS. VERNON. [As she disappears by door.] We'll see!
Enter BOLLINGER from street.
BOLLINGER. [In great excitement.] Say, boys—man killed up at
Clark's—
JOE. [Catching the thrill.] Man killed?
BOLLINGER. Yes.
LIZBETH and EM'LY. Oh!
JOE. Run over?
BOLLINGER. Shot.
ALL. Shot!
BOLLINGER. [Revelling in the gossip.] Travers shot him. Sam Fowler came in the drug-store, and the minute he saw him he said, "That's the man robbed my car—"
JIM. [Quietly.] What's he look like?
BOLLINGER. [Impatiently.] Why, Travers—Sam says that's the man—and Travers started for the window—stepped right into the perfumery case, then on the sody-water counter, and this fellow grabbed him. First we see Travers had his gun right against the fellow's neck and—bang—he turned around with both hands up, this way, and kneels down right at Bill Sarber's feet.
EM'LY. And Sam?
BOLLINGER. Oh, Sam's all right—say, kin one of you boys lend me a gun—we're huntin' fur him.
JOE. Hunting who?
BOLLINGER. [Intolerant of JOE'S stupidity.] Why, Travers.
JIM. [In quiet contrast.] Where'd he go?
BOLLINGER. Right through the window—knocked over both them green lights—kicked a box o' lickerish all over the sidewalk—kin you spare one?
JOE. [Bustling about.] I ain't got but one, and I reckon I'll take a hand myself.
JIM. [To EM'LY.] Come, little gal, we got to go home.
JOE. [At door. Calls.] Ma—ma!—Say, Jim, you can't resign to-night—I knowed they'd be trouble if you quit.
JIM. Better meet at the Court House. [Exit with EM'LY and passes window going left.
Enter MRS. VERNON.
JOE. Where's my gun?
MRS. VERNON. What you want it fur?
JOE. [Who is running a circle.] What do you s'pose—fry eggs? Where is it?
LIZBETH. Travers killed a man.
MRS. VERNON. [Adding her part to the hubbub.] Lor'! Travers!
JOE. Where is it, Lizbeth?
BOLLINGER. Ain't you got anything you kin lend me?
MRS. VERNON. Here it is. [Hands gun.
JOE. Loaded?
MRS. VERNON. Don't pint it.
JOE. That—the butt end—come on!
BOLLINGER. A butcher-knife's better than nothing.
LIZBETH. Here! [Hands knife to BOLLINGER.
DAVE. [As LIZBETH holds him.] You don't think I'm scared.
Exeunt BOLLINGER and JOE.
MRS. VERNON. I don't want you to shoot anybody, Joe; pint it in the air.
DAVE exits; when off calls "Good-bye!"
MRS. VERNON. [Impatient in doorway.] I can't see what business it is of Dave's when they's three policemen in town; uniforms—where's Em'ly?
LIZBETH. Jim took her home.
MRS. VERNON. Did somebody say Travers?
LIZBETH. Yes.
Enter Kate.
KATE. What is it?
LIZBETH. Travers shot a man.
KATE. What man—why?
MRS. VERNON. [Accusingly.] Jus' natural deviltry—purty pass things is coming to!
KATE. Whom did he shoot?
LIZBETH. We don't know—shot him here, in the neck.
Enter Sarber from street, hurriedly.
SARBER. Hello,—where's the boys?
MRS. VERNON. Have they ketched him?
SARBER. Don't know—we're all huntin'—[Starts off.
KATE. [Quickly.] Mr. Sarber—
SARBER. Eh?
KATE. Who is hurt?
SARBER. [Shouting.] Don't know his name—Clark stuffed the hole full of cotton. [Indicating neck.] Says city'll have to pay for his green lights and lickorish.
KATE. Did Mr. Travers shoot the man?
SARBER. Yes'm—nearer than you an' me—which way'd they go?
LIZBETH. Court House.
SARBER. Been an awful hot day. [Exit.
KATE. [In haunted fear.] What have you heard about it?
MRS. VERNON. Why, it don't surprise me, Kate.
LIZBETH. They say Travers is the train-robber—
KATE. Lizbeth!
LIZBETH. Sam Fowler knew him the minute he saw him—, that's why
Travers had to shoot—to git away!
MRS. VERNON. Not Sam?
LIZBETH. No, didn't shoot Sam.
KATE. There has been some mistake—these people have never liked Mr.
Travers.
MRS. VERNON. I knowed he'd bring disgrace on the whole house, Kate. [Getting sun-bonnet.] I'll go in through Mrs. Clark's back way—she'll know—come, Kate, I'm your mother, and a mother never deserts her child. [In stage heroics.
KATE. [Recoiling.] I don't care to go.
LIZBETH. Take me, ma.
MRS. VERNON. Come on, [Exit with LIZBETH.
KATE. [In wild-eyed panic.] Oh, how dreadful! This is what I have felt coming all the day. It is my fault, too. If I had said 'yes' last night, or only gone with him this morning—it couldn't have happened. How horrible!—killed a man! They didn't tell me whom. I—I wonder if my name was mentioned? They said—Lizbeth said—a train-robber—[She leans on table for support.] That letter! Jim thought the writing looked like his. Jim—Jim has told others his suspicion—Yes—Jim Radburn has done it! I see! I see! Jim hated him—they have persecuted him for me—Oh! oh! Why did I not go last night?
Enter TRAVERS, pale and breathless—revolver in hand. He closes the door behind him.
TRAVERS. Kate!
KATE. Oh!
TRAVERS. Who's there? [Points toward shop.
KATE. No one. What is the matter? Tell me what you did—that pistol!
TRAVERS. In self-defence—they would have killed me if they could.
KATE. You shot him?
TRAVERS. Yes. [As she hides her face.] Kate! Kate! I can't come in front of the window—where can I go?
KATE. They will find you here. [He turns, facing door with pistol, left hand holding door shut, menacingly.] No,—not that—you wouldn't shoot again! My father may come here!
TRAVERS. Kate! Do you believe me?
KATE. Yes.
TRAVERS. [Pleading.] In self-defence—they were ten—ten to one.
KATE. You are bleeding!
TRAVERS. [Covers hand.] The window cut me—give me a drink—I'm parching. [She gets water in a dipper from bucket on bench. TRAVERS drinks with the tin rattling on his teeth. Noise of a galloping horse passes. He drops the dipper.] I don't think they saw me come in here.
KATE. Why did you come?
TRAVERS. Where else? I ran—turned every corner till I lost them. If I can hide or get a horse!
KATE. [Doubting him.] Why did they try to arrest you?
TRAVERS. I—I don't know, Kate—some mistake.
KATE. They said the express robbery.
TRAVERS. It isn't so—
KATE. [Goes to table and leans on it with her back to TRAVERS.] Ah!
TRAVERS. Kate, [Pause.] Kate, [Pause.] you must believe me! Why should I be here [Pause.] in this little town—
KATE. Why did you shoot?
TRAVERS. I had to—they would have killed me—it is all a mistake—Kate, Kate—
KATE. What shall we do?
TRAVERS. If I had a horse—
KATE. But why?
TRAVERS. Listen!
There is again the sound of approaching hoofs.
KATE. Some one is coming—[He turns at bay.] No—I couldn't stand it—go in here—[Opens closet.] Quick!
TRAVERS. Yes! [He enters the closet—she closes the door of the closet and throws open the street door; goes to table.
JIM rides into view and drops from his horse.
JIM. [In door.] Hello?
KATE. [Behind table.] Well?
JIM. [After looking slowly about.] Where is he?
KATE. I—I—where is who?
JIM. [In a matter of course way] Travers.
KATE. Why, how should I know?
JIM. Then why don't you jes' say you don't know?
KATE. [Behind chair.] Well, then, I don't know.
JIM. [Shaking his head.] Too late now.
KATE. Too late?
JIM. Yes—if it'd been all right, you wouldn't a-tried to dodge me.
KATE. [Near melodeon.] You may think as you choose.
JIM. [Pause.] I'm awful sorry for you, Kate.
KATE. Oh, you needn't be.
JIM. [On the "qui vive."] But I want to see Mr. Travers.
KATE. [In distress.] You—you annoy me very much. [Sits left of table.
JIM. [In real tenderness.] Why, Kate—Katie—see here—I'm your friend—they ain't anybody in the world feels as bad for you as I do—but be reasonable—it's only a question of time. I s'pose every man in Bowlin' Green that owns a gun or a bowie knife's collectin' up there at the Court House—your own pa and Dave—they'll be back here after a while—and what then?—don't you see?
KATE. It's horrible—don't tell me it is duty makes them hunt a fellow-man like that. [Rises.
JIM. I don't pretend to know anything about that—[Pause. Picks up dipper; looks at KATE.] Poor chap—thirsty—oh, well—that's your business, Kate. [Puts dipper on the bench.
KATE. [At bay herself.] You're not a man, Jim Radburn, you're a bloodhound—you hunt men.
JIM. Yes! [Pause.
KATE. Yes. [End of rocker-chair.
JIM. See here, Kate—I want a word or two with Mr. Travers. I think the honestest thing he ever done was liking you—I—
KATE. [Fiercely.] And that is why you hate him! You think he likes me! You think if it hadn't been for him I might have liked you! Well, I do like him—[Pause.] that's why you hunt him! It isn't your duty prompts you—it's your jealousy!
JIM. [A pause in which he decides the question.] He's in that closet.
KATE. [Turning.] He is not.
JIM. [Straddling a chair and facing closet. Speaks in ordinary tone.] Travers, come out. If you don't come out, I'll shoot through the door.
TRAVERS. [Bursting from closet and levelling pistol.] Throw up your hands!
JIM. [Pause. In fateful monotone.] You're a damn fool! The sound of a gun now would fill both them streets with pitchforks.
KATE. Don't—don't—shoot.
JIM. Oh, he won't!
TRAVERS. Do you think you can arrest me—alive?
JIM. It don't make no difference to me.
KATE. [Anxiously pleading.] If you are innocent, Mr. Travers—if you have acted in self-defence—
JIM. Wait, Kate—we ain't got time to try him now. He ain't got time; the boys are waiting up at the Court House. Mr. Travers, this young lady likes you—very much. [He slowly rises.
TRAVERS. [Still covering him.] I know the cause of your hatred, Mr.
Radburn—I know you are here because I love her.
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.