The Grapes of Wrath Page #69
- NOT RATED
- Year:
- 1940
- 129 min
- 654 Views
JOE:
(whispering)
Down that way--under the bridge span.
Casy leads the way softly. THE BRIDGE SPAN is seen from the
stream as Casy, Tom, and the other man wade carefully toward
it.
UNDER THE BRIDGE it is almost black as they creep through
the culvert. Just as Casy and Tom step out from under the
bridge on the other side, a blinding flashlight hits them,
lighting them like day.
VOICE:
There they are! Stand where you are!
Halted, uncertain, they stand as three men with stars on
their coats and pickhandles in their hands slide down the
EMBANKMENT. Two of them hold lighted flashlights.
DEPUTY:
That's him! That one in the middle,
the skinny one! Chuck! Alec! Here
they are! We got 'em!
There are faint responses from a distance. CASY AND TOM are
alone. The others have fled. The deputies approach, their
lights on Casy and Tom.
CASY:
Listen, you fellas. You don't know
what you're doin'. You're helpin' to
stave kids.
DEPUTY:
Shut up, you red--
He swings the pickhandle. Casy dodges but the stick cracks
his skull. He falls face down out of the light. The deputies
watch for a moment but Casy doesn't stir.
SECOND DEPUTY:
Looks like to me you killed him.
DEPUTY:
Turn him over. Put the light on him.
Bending over, their bodies hide Casy.
TOM, seen close, is breathing hard, his eyes glistening.
DEPUTY'S VOICE
Serves him right, too.
As the deputies straighten up, Tom steps forward, grabs the
pickhandle from the man who felled Casy, and swings. The
blow strikes the deputy's arm, sending his flashlight flying,
and the scene is in semi-darkness as Tom swings again. There
is a grunt and a groan as the deputy goes down. Then all is
confusion. Backing away, swinging the pickhandle, Tom bolts,
splashes a few yards through the stream, turns and gains a
better start by throwing the pickhandle at his pursuers.
They duck, and Tom disappears into the night. The other men
rush through the scene in pursuit.
THE SECOND DEPUTY is seen bending over the body of the man
Tom laid out.
SECOND DEPUTY:
Where's that flash?
THIRD DEPUTY:
Here.
The light flashes on the man's face.
THIRD DEPUTY:
(awed)
Boy, he's *good* and dead! You see
that fella that done it?
SECOND DEPUTY:
I ain't sure--but I caught him one
across the face, and believe me, I
give him a trade-mark *he* ain't
gonna be able to shake off easy!
TOM is seen crashing through the bushes, his face bloody.
THE EXTERIOR OF HOUSE 63 fades in. It is day. Ma comes down
the street with a bundle under her arm and enters the house.
INSIDE HOUSE 63, Rosasharn sits by the window as Ma enters.
MA:
Anybody ask anything?
ROSASHARN:
No'm.
MA:
Stand by the door.
Rosasharn takes her post at the door as Ma kneels on the
floor beside Tom, puts down the rag bundle, and gets a basin.
Tom, who is under a quilt, is with his back alone visible.
She speaks softly, guardedly, as she bathes his face.
MA:
How's it feel, Tommy?
TOM:
Busted my cheek but I can still see.
What'd you hear?
MA:
Looks like you done it.
TOM:
(soberly)
I kinda thought so. Felt like it.
MA:
Folks ain't talkin' about much else.
They say they got posses out. Talkin'
about a lynchin'--when they catch
the fella.
TOM:
They killed Casy first.
MA:
That ain't the way they're tellin'
it. They're sayin' you done it fust.
TOM:
(after a pause)
They know what--this fella looks
like?
MA:
They know he got hit in the face.
TOM:
(slowly)
I'm sorry, Ma. But--I didn't know
what I was doin', no more'n when you
take a breath. I didn't even know I
was gonna do it.
MA:
It's awright, Tommy. I wisht you
didn't do it, but you done what you
had to do. I can't read no fault in
you.
TOM:
I'm gonna go away tonight. I can't
go puttin' this on you folks.
MA:
(angrily)
Tom! They's a whole lot I don't
understan', but goin' away ain't
gonna ease us.
(Thoughtfully)
They was the time when we was on the
lan'. They was a bound'ry to us then.
Ol' folks died off, an' little fellas
come, an' we was always one thing--
we was the fambly--kinda whole an'
clear. But now we ain't clear no
more. They ain't nothin' keeps us
clear. Al--he's a-hankerin' an' a-
jibbitin' to go off on his own. An'
Uncle John is just a-draggin' along.
Pa's lost his place--he ain't the
head no more. We're crackin' up,
Tom. They ain't no fambly now.
Rosasharn--
(a glance at the girl)
--she gonna have her baby, but *it*
ain't gonna have no fambly. I been
tryin' to keep her goin' but--Winfiel'--
what's he gonna be, this-a-way?
Growin' up wild, an' Ruthie, too--
like animals. Got nothin' to trus'.
Don't go Tom. Stay an' help. Help
me.
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