Long, Hot Summer, The Page #3

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- May wasn't so good.|- Oh.

ButJune and July|made up for it.

That's to be expected.

- I moved all our heavy farm equipment.|- Oh, yeah?

We're fresh out|of inventory.

- Including that old tractor?|- That's right.

- The one that don't go uphill?|- Includin' that.

Good.

nobody 'round here would have.

And a fella come down here|from Boston, Massachusetts.

He bought a lot of land|and built this big fence around it...

and started a goat ranch.

Only he plumb ran out of goats...

and it went bust.

- "Yeah?"|- Yeah.

of good grassland.

Well, seems like you ain't been sittin'|on your spine altogether.

- How'd you rent that farm off?|- On shares.

- "Profitable?"|- I had a little trouble with the man.

What's the name|of this poor unfortunate?

A fellow name of Quick.

Quick? Ben Quick?

Yeah, yeah,|from out west.

You knucklehead fool!

You empty-headed yokel!

- What are you calling me names for?|- "Quick.!"

Don't you keep abreast|of anything except Eula?

Don't you know what Quick means|in this county? Hellfire!

Ashes and char!

Flame follows that man|around like a dog!

He's a barn burner.

- I never do anything right. Do I?|- Not to my immediate recollection!

You want to hear something?|I sweat around you.

All those months you were away|in the hospital, I was dry.

Now I'm sweatin' again.

I ain't got time|for your personal troubles.

You started something with|Mr. Ben Quick, and I got to finish it...

before this house of mine|goes up in smoke!

I'm Varner.

Yeah, I already met|one Varner.

I'm the other.

Just driving by. Thought I'd stop|and see if you got any plans.

That cabin ain't fit for hogs...

but I can get along with it.

talk that over.

Way I hear it, you're a boy that gets|into trouble with your landlords.

The kind of trouble that might need|the help of the fire department.

If you scared of me, mister, why don't|you just come right out and say so?

Huh!

Son, why should I|be scared of you?

'Cause I got a reputation|for being a dangerous man.

Hmm.

You're a young,|dangerous man.

I'm an old one.

You don't know who I am.|I better introduce myself.

I'm the big landowner|and chief moneylender in these parts.

I'm commissioner of elections|and veterinarian.

and the cotton gin...

the blacksmith shop.

to do his tradin'or gin his cotton...

or grind his meal or shoe his stock...|anywhere else.

Now, that's who I am.

You talk a lot.

Yes, I do, son.

But I'm done|talkin' to you...

except for passing you on|this piece of information.

I built me a new jail|in my courthouse this year...

here something, anything at all...

should happen to catch fire...

I think you oughta know|that in my jail...

we never heard of the words|"habeas corpus."

You'd rot.

Well, a smart man,|he'd give me a job.

- You're already working for me.|- None of this weed-scratching.

I'm talkin' about a job|that'll give me a white shirt...

and a black tie|and three squares.

You've got a place in your store|and several other spots|where you could use me.

You'd be writing yourself a fire|insurance policy into the bargain.

I'll give it some thought.

Yes or no, mister.|Ain't no in-between.

- You're mighty bushy-tailed|for a beginner.|- "I'm in a hurry."

You're wasting your time.|The job at the top's already taken.

- But like you said, you're an old man.|- I am that.

You bear that in mind.

Be respectful.

Yes, sir, Mr. Varner.|Now, just who do I have to kill?

Well, we won't start|right off with murder.

Happens I just got handed me|30 Texas horses on a foreclosure.

You get rid of them for me|at a reasonable profit...

and we're in business.

Well, there's a cool breeze|from the river, Alan.

Everything nice comes|with you, Clara...

hot broth, cool breeze|from the river.

How's your school?

You mean that free-for-all|I run in town?

Those 35 hellions who are making|their last stand against me?

- |- I wouldn't say it was|a summer on the Riviera.

Well, it's unnatural to keep kids|in school in the summertime.

In the winter they gotta|help work on the crops.

Somewhere along the line,|they gotta learn to read and write.

Besides, who knows?

I don't have much hope, but maybe I have|a young painter or poet cooped up there.

Oh, Alan,|I love this place.

Grace, dignity,|beautiful things left undisturbed.

Just the way they were|a hundred years ago.

Most people say|I'm fighting the 20th century.

I suppose I oughta|sell this place...

put it to corn and cotton,|go get a job like everybody else...

but I wouldn't be|any good at it.

- I'd hate it and make a mess of it.|- Then don't do it.

There are enough hustlers around here|as is. You stand for something.

- You hold on to it.|- Your father refers to me|as decayed gentry.

That's because|he is pea green with envy.

You listen here. He would|give anything to have what you have.

Wouldn't he just love to have|your shine and polish?

He can put up all those billboards|and neon signs and fillin' stations...

but quality is one thing|he can't buy, and he knows it.

He has quality, Clara...

in you.

That's what I came through|this dusty summer day to hear.

I want you to be hale|and hearty again.

I want you to be your courtly, gallant|self again and come callin' on me.

- Very soon, ma'am.|- Well, you better.

Girls get all fidgety and looked at|sideways and talked about...

- when they don't have|their gentlemen callers.|-

Besides, I've missed you.

That boy's temperature|has been a-hoverin'...

between 100 and 100 and two-tenths|for three days...

so none of that now.

- I just brought over|some of Lucius's broth.|- Oh!

He won't eat a bite|I don't cook.

I'm gonna hustle you right along,|'cause it's way past son's nap time.

All right, Miss Stewart.|I'll give up the field for now.

Good-bye.|Good-bye, Alan.

Good-bye, Clara.

- Why, you old crook, you.|- Hmm.

- Them's horses out of hell.|- That's right.

Them ponies never had a rope on 'em.|You didn't tell me they was wild.

Well, you knowin' that,|uh...

kinda gives you the edge|over everybody else, huh?

Minnie Littlejohn...

I'm gettin' thirsty|again.

Since when you been|in the horseflesh business?

Ain't no kind of business.|What you're watching is|a plain old-fashioned swindle.

So, of course,|I ain't involved in it directly.

- You hired that boy to fleece 'em?|- I hired that boy...

Tell you the truth, I don't know why|I hired him, but I aim to find out.

Okay, come on now.|Let's gather 'round in here, folks.

Come on. Let's move in here.|John, come on now.

I don't wanna strain my tonsils.

Let's go. We gonna get goin'.

Mr. Armistead, I heard what you|had to say about them horses.

I wouldn't hesitate to put my own sister|on one of'em if I had a sister.

You there.|Now, Miss Clara?

of one of them handsome-lookin'horses?

I can see you've got "no" written|all over your face, but wait.

You stop and think a minute.

You can pack yourself a picnic basket|and follow some woodsy trail.

if you happen to be afflicted that way.

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