The Grapes of Wrath Page #43

---

In THE CABIN, it is black too, but the sound is different.

In addition to the sound of the wind there is the soft hissing

of sand against the house.

TOM'S VOICE

Ma?... Pa?... Ain't nobody here?

(After a long silence)

Somepin's happened.

CASY'S VOICE

You got a match?

TOM'S VOICE

There was some pieces of candle always

on a shelf.

Presently, after shuffling about, he has found them and lights

one. He holds it up, lighting the room. A couple of wooden

boxes are on the floor, a few miserable discarded things,

and that's all. Tom's eyes are bewildered.

TOM:

They're all gone--or dead.

CASY:

They never wrote you nothing?

TOM:

No. They wasn't people to write.

From the floor he picks up a woman's high button shoe, curled

up at the toe and broken over the instep.

TOM:

This was Ma's. Had 'em for years.

Dropping the shoe, he picks up a battered felt hat.

TOM:

This used to be mine. I give it to

Grampa when I went away.

(To Casy)

You reckon they could be dead?

CASY:

I never heard nothin' about it.

Dropping the hat, he moves with the candle toward the door

to the back, the only other room of the cabin. He stands in

the doorway, holding the candle high.

In the BACK ROOM the scene moves from Tom at the door across

the room to the shadows, where a skinny little man sits

motionless, wide-eyed, staring at Tom. His name is Muley.

MULEY:

Tommy?

TOM:

(entering)

Muley! Where's my folks, Muley?

MULEY:

(dully)

They gone.

TOM:

(irritated)

I know that! But *where* they gone?

Muley does not reply. He is looking up at Casy as he enters.

TOM:

(to Casy)

This is Muley Graves.

(To Muley)

You remember the preacher, don't

you?

CASY:

I ain't no preacher anymore.

TOM:

(impatiently)

All right, you remember the *man*

then.

MULEY AND CASY:

Glad to see you again. Glad to see

you.

TOM:

(angrily)

Now where is my folks?

MULEY:

Gone--

(hastily)

--over to your Uncle John's. The

whole crowd of 'em, two weeks ago.

But they can't stay there either,

because John's got *his* notice to

get off.

TOM:

(bewildered)

But what's happened? How come they

got to get off? We been here fifty

years--same place.

MULEY:

Ever'body got to get off. Ever'body

leavin', goin' to California. My

folks, your folks, ever'body's folks.

(After a pause)

Ever'body but me. I ain't gettin'

off.

TOM:

But who done it?

MULEY:

Listen!

(Impatiently Tom

listens to the storm)

That's some of what done it--the

dusters. Started it, anyway. Blowin'

like this, year after year--blowin'

the land away, blowin' the crops

away, blowin' us away now.

TOM:

(angrily)

Are you crazy?

MULEY:

(simply)

Some say I am.

(After a pause)

You want to hear what happened?

TOM:

That's what I asked you, ain't it?

MULEY is seen at close range. Not actually crazy, Muley is a

little touched. His eyes rove upward as he listens to the

sound of the storm, the sough of the wind and the soft hiss

of the sand. Then...

MULEY:

The way it happens--the way it

happened to me--the man come one

day...

The scene dissolves to MULEY'S DOORYARD. It is a soft spring

day, with the peaceful sounds of the country. Seated in a

three-year-old touring car is THE MAN, a city man with a

collar and tie. He hates to do what he is doing and this

makes him gruff and curt, to hide his misgivings. Squatted

beside the car are Muley, his son-in-law, and a half-grown

son. At a respectful distance stand Muley's wife, his

daughter, with a baby in her arms, and a small barefooted

girl, watching worriedly. The men soberly trace marks on the

ground with small sticks. A hound dog sniffs at the automobile

wheels.

THE MAN:

Fact of the matter, Muley, after

what them dusters done to the land,

the tenant system don't work no more.

It don't even break even, much less

show a profit. One man on a tractor

can handle twelve or fourteen of

these places. You just pay him a

wage and take *all* the crop.

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote