The Grapes of Wrath Page #23

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The COUPE is seen as the agent steps on the gas to get away.

As Floyd gets in the clear, the DEPUTY, sitting on the ground,

aims his pistol again, slowly, carefully. Behind him Casy

steps up, gauges his distance, and then kicks him square in

the base of the skull. The deputy tumbles over unconscious.

Tom picks up the pistol.

CASY:

Gimme that gun. Now git outa here.

Go down in them willows an' wait.

TOM:

(angrily)

I ain't gonna run.

CASY:

He seen you, Tom! You wanta be

fingerprinted? You wanta get sent

back for breakin' parole?

TOM:

You're right!

CASY:

Hide in the willows. If it's awright

to come back I'll give you four high

whistles.

As Tom strides away there is the distant sound of a siren.

Casy empties the gun and throws cartridges and gun aside.

The men, aghast, have been standing back, worried and excited

and apprehensive. They wish nothing like this had happened.

The women have gathered around the wounded woman, who is

sobbing. Now at the sound of the siren everybody begins to

move uncomfortably toward his tent or shack. Al looks

admiringly from Casy to the unconscious deputy.

Everybody has disappeared into his tent but Al and Casy. The

siren draws nearer.

CASY:

Go on. Get in your tent. You don't

know nothin'.

AL:

How 'bout you?

CASY:

(grinning)

*Some*body got to take the blame.

They just *got* to hang it on

somebody, you know.

(Shrugging)

An' I ain't doin' nothin' but set

around.

AL:

But ain't no reason--

CASY:

(savagely)

Lissen. I don't care nothin' about

you, but if you mess in this, your

whole fambly li'ble to get in trouble,

an' Tom get sent back to the

penitentiary.

AL:

Okay. I think you're a darn fool,

though.

CASY:

Sure. Why not?

Al heads for the Joad tent and Casy kneels down and lifts

the deputy. He wipes his face clean. The deputy begins to

come to. An open car curves off the highway, stops in the

clearing, and four men with rifles pile out. The deputy sits

rubbing his eyes and Casy stands.

SECOND DEPUTY:

What's goin' on here?

CASY:

This man a yours, he got tough an' I

hit him. Then he started shootin'--

hit a woman down the line--so I hit

him again.

SECOND DEPUTY:

Well--what'd you do in the first

place?

CASY:

I talked back.

Two of the men have helped the deputy to his feet. He feels

the back of his neck gingerly.

CASY:

They's a woman down there like to

bleed to death from his bad shootin'.

SECOND DEPUTY:

(to assistant)

Take a look at her.

(To deputy)

Mike, is this the fella that hit

you?

DEPUTY:

(dazedly)

Don't look like him.

CASY:

It was me, all right. You just got

smart with the wrong fella.

DEPUTY:

(shuddering)

Don't look like him, but... maybe it

was. I ain't sure.

SECOND DEPUTY:

Get in that car.

With a deputy on either side of him, Casy climbs in the back

seat. The sickish deputy is helped into the car. The other

man comes running back.

MAN:

(proudly)

Boy, what a mess a .45 does make!

They got a tourniquet on. We'll send

a doctor out.

The car starts. CASY and two deputies beside him are revealed

in the back seat. Casy sits proudly, head up, eyes front. On

his lips is a faint smile; on his face, a curious look of

conquest.

DEPUTY:

(angry at the whole

business)

But what you gonna do? Must be

*thousands* of 'em around here, sore

and hungry and living in them dumps.

What you gonna do about 'em?

SECOND DEPUTY:

You gotta hold 'em down. Hold 'em

down or they'll take over the whole

country. That's all you *can* do.

DEPUTY:

(grimly)

Well, they ain't gonna take over

*my* country. I been livin' here too

long for *that*. Maybe some a the

boys better drop around tonight and

give 'em something to think about.

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