The Grapes of Wrath Page #35

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TIM:

(extending his hand)

Nobody won't know who tol'. We thank

you.

(Grimly)

An' they ain't gonna be no fight,

either.

They shake hands.

The scene dissolves to the GATE TO THE CAMP, at night. It is

Saturday evening, the night of the dance. Glaring electric

lights hang over the open gate. Parked jalopies line the

highway as the invited guests, small farmers and migrants

from other camps and their families, arrive to be greeted

and checked by a committee of three men.

COMMITTEE MAN:

Ev'nin', ma'am. Who'd you say invited

you?

GUESTS:

Mister an' Mizz Clark, they ast us.

COMMITTEE MAN:

Yes, ma'am. Come right in, ma'am.

There is an air of eager anticipation, of gay celebration,

and everyone is in his or her best--the men in clean washed

overalls, clean shirts, some with ties, their hair damp and

slicked down, the women in their nicest. Through the gate,

inside the camp, can be seen the outdoor dance floor, brightly

lighted, with the camp musicians already tuning up, and around

the dance floor scores of wide-eyed children.

INSIDE THE GATE TO THE CAMP, we see Wilkie and a dark-

complexioned man named Jule standing among a group inside

watching the arrivals. They watch sharply, eyeing everyone,

listening to every credential. As his employer, Thomas, comes

through the gate with his wife, Wilkie grins and greets him

with a handshake.

WILKIE:

Hidy, Mr. Thomas. Hidy, Mizz Thomas.

THOMAS:

(sotto voce)

You watching out, ain't you?

WILKIE:

(grinning)

Don't you worry. Ain't gonna be no

trouble.

THOMAS:

I hope you know what you're talking

about.

(He moves away, Wilkie

grinning after him)

We see the DANCE FLOOR, and after three pats of the foot, to

get the tempo, the home talent dance orchestra swings into

music.

INSIDE THE JOAD TENT, Rosasharn dressed in her nicest, sits

gripping her hands together, the music seeming to bring her

to the verge of tears.

ROSASHARN:

Ma...

(Ma turns from drying

dishes)

Ma, I--I can't go to the dance. I

jus' can't Ma. I can't hardly stan'

it, with Connie not here--an' me

this way.

MA:

(trying to cheer her)

Why, honey, it makes folks happy to

see a girl that way--makes folks

sort of giggly an' happy.

ROSASHARN:

(miserably)

I can't he'p it, Ma. It don't make

*me* giggly an' happy.

Drying her hands, Ma sits beside Rosasharn and takes her in

her arms.

MA:

(tenderly)

You an' me's goin' together--jus'

you an' me. We're a-goin' to that

dance an' we're a-goin' to jus' set

an' watch. If anybody says to come

dance--why I'll say you're poorly.

But you an' me, we're gonna hear the

music an' see the fun.

ROSASHARN:

An' you won't let nobody touch me?

MA:

No--an' look what I got for you.

Smiling mysteriously, Ma fishes in a pocket in her dress and

brings out the envelope of her treasures. From it she produces

the earrings and holds them up in front of Rosasharn's wide

eyes.

MA:

(softly)

I used to wear these--when your pa

come callin' on me.

(Then as she puts

them on Rosasharn's

ears)

You'll look pretty in 'em tonight.

They smile at each other, proud in the luxury of ornaments.

Down the road from the GATE a touring car with six men pulls

of the pavement and stops. Three men get out. They are

bareheaded and dressed similar to the other migrants. They

stroll down the highway toward the gate. The other men,

deputies, sit watching them.

WITHIN THE GATE:

WILKIE:

They tell me you're half Injun. You

look all Injun to me.

JULE:

No, jes' half. Wisht I was full-

blooded. Gov'ment'd be lookin' out

for me an' I'd be ridin' around in a

Buick eight.

The three men from the touring car are at the gate. Wilkie

and Jule watch them.

COMMITTEE MAN:

Who give you the invitation?

MAN:

Fella named Jackson--Buck Jackson.

COMMITTEE MAN:

Okay. Come on in.

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