The Grapes of Wrath Page #62

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AGENT:

(pointing at Floyd)

Ever see this guy before?

DEPUTY:

What'd he do?

AGENT:

He's agitatin'.

DEPUTY:

Hmmm.

(Giving Floyd a looking

over)

Seems like I have. Seems like I seen

him hangin' around that used car lot

that was busted into. Yep, I'd swear

it's the same fella.

(Sharply)

Get in that car.

TOM:

You got nothin' on him.

DEPUTY:

Open your trap again and you'll go

too.

AGENT:

(to the men)

You fellas don't wanta lissen to

troublemakers. You better pack up

an' come on to Tulare County.

The men say nothing.

DEPUTY:

Might be a good idea to do what he

says. Too many of you Okies aroun'

here already. Folks beginnin' to

figger it ain't maybe *safe*. Might

start a epidemic or sump'n.

(After a pause)

Wouldn't like a bunch a guys down

here with pick handles tonight, would

you?

As the agent gets into the coupe FLOYD'S thumbs hook over

his belt and he looks off, away. TOM'S look away is an answer.

His thumbs also hook over his belt.

DEPUTY:

(to Floyd)

Now, you.

He takes hold of Floyd's left arm. At the same time Floyd

swings, smacks him in the face. As the deputy staggers, Tom

sticks out a foot and trips him. Floyd is already running

through the camp. The deputy fires from the ground. There is

a scream. A WOMAN is looking down at her hand, the knuckles

shot away.

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'.

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