The Grapes of Wrath Page #76

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TIM:

(worriedly)

You ain't to hurt them fellas.

WILKIE:

(grinning)

You don't have to worry. We got

ever'thing arranged. Maybe nobody'll

even see it.

TIM:

Just don't use no stick nor no knife,

no piece a arn. An' if you got to

sock 'em, sock 'em where they won't

bleed.

TOM:

Yes, sir.

TIM:

Awright. An' if she gets outa han',

I'll be in the right han' corner,

this side the dance floor.

TOM:

(blandly)

Ain't gonna get outa han'.

Wilkie makes a mocking military salute as he and Tom exit.

The committee men look worriedly after them.

FIRST MAN:

Mighty sure a themselves, looks like.

TIM:

All I hope, I hope they don't kill

nobody.

In front of the JOAD TENT, dressed to kill, is Al, ready for

the festivities. He wears a tight-fitting wool suit, a tie

on his shirt, yellow shoes, and his hair is damp and slicked

down. He rubs his hands together in anticipation as he strolls

in the direction of the dance floor.

At ANOTHER TENT, a blonde girl sits on a box as Al enters.

Casually he throws open his coat, revealing a vivid striped

shirt. This is designed to stun his quarry.

AL:

Gonna dance tonight?

(The girl

ostentatiously ignores

him)

I can waltz.

GIRL:

(aloofly)

That's nothin'--anybody can waltz.

AL:

(shaking his head)

Not like me!

A fat woman thrusts her head out of the tent.

WOMAN:

You git right along! This here girl's

spoke for. She's gonna be married,

an' her man's a-comin' for her.

Shrugging, Al winks at the girl and moves on, stepping and

moving his shoulders and snapping his fingers in time to the

music, a very gay fellow indeed. The blonde girl's eyes follow

him. Then she turns and glances cautiously toward the tent.

ON THE DANCE FLOOR, we see Ma and Rosasharn as Tom enters

and stands between them. This is during a pause between dances

and only a few couples stand on the floor waiting for the

music to begin again. We also see the three men very casually

looking around--but no more casual looking than Wilkie,

standing just behind them, idly whistling.

TOM:

(grinning)

She's gettin' prettier, Ma.

MA:

(as Rosasharn hides

her face)

Girl with a baby *always* gets

prettier.

The music starts again, once more the dancers move onto the

dance floor. The three men exchange a glance and step casually

to the edge of the dancing space, one in the lead. They survey

the scene, but for the moment make no further move. The

atmosphere is tense.

TOM:

(softly)

Excuse me, Ma.

(He moves quietly out

of the scene, toward

the three men)

AL, taking the blonde girl's hand, steps onto the dance floor.

Encircling her waist, they begin to dance. They are a smooth,

rhythmic couple who move as one being.

AL:

Well, you said anybody can waltz...

How'm *I* doin'?

BLONDE GIRL:

Don't hold me so tight.

AL:

(tongue-in-cheek)

Why, I ain't hardly touchin' you!

BLONDE GIRL:

(squirming)

You're *ticklin' me!*

AL:

(grabbing her still

closer)

That comes from not holdin' you tight

*enough.*

BLONDE GIRL:

(complaining but loving

it)

Now I can't breathe.

At this moment the leader of the three men (the other two

directly behind him) enters the scene.

LEADER:

I'll dance with this girl.

AL:

(angrily)

You an' who else?

Behind the three men a solid wall of migrants are closing in

quietly, Tom and Wilkie in the middle.

LEADER:

Don't gimme no argament--

(A shrill whistle

sounds in the distance)

--you little--

His fist goes back, his left hand reaches for Al's collar.

At the same instant Tom grabs him, Wilkie claps his hand

over the leader's mouth, at least fifteen other men have

similarly collard the other two invaders, and they are all

lifted bodily. There is not a sound as the three men, held

in iron grips, are whisked from the dance floor and into the

crowd.

Two touring cars have stopped in front of the closed GATE

and the deputies have drawn guns.

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