The Searchers Page #2

ETHAN:

(bluntly)

It just happened to be me...No need

to make any more of it...

MARTIN:

I'll take care of your horse for you,

Uncle Ethan.

Again, he starts to lead away.

ETHAN:

Hold on!

Martin stops again.

ETHAN:

I'll take this...

He completes unlacing the pack and takes it -- treating it

as though it contained something of value. Martin watches

with a touch of resentment: Ethan doesn't trust him.

Ethan turns and sees the look. He doesn't care what Martin

thinks, nor does he explain. Martin leads the horse off.

MARTHA:

Supper'll be ready by the time you

wash up...Let me take your coat

for you, Ethan.

He hesitates, then grudgingly surrenders it -- conscious

of its sorry condition.

MARTHA:

(smiling faintly)

And...welcome home.

He just nods, then turns to follow Aaron around the side of

the house toward the wash-up.

13EXT. THE EDWARDS HOUSE - CLOSE SHOT - MARTHA

She stands alone, looking after Ethan -- his coat in her

arms. She holds it against her breast for just a moment

and her eyes are tender.

DISSOLVE TO:

14INT. EDWARDS HOUSE - FULL SHOT - NIGHT

The family is finishing dinner -- and the scene is not

quite, but almost, a still-life. Loud in the room is the

pendulum tick of a Seth-Thomas clock on the mantel above

the fireplace -- in which logs are burning briskly. Ben

crouches near the fireplace, fascinatedly examining the

scabbard and sabre Ethan has brought home from the wars.

He tries to ease the blade just a bit out of its scabbard.

Aaron sits at one end of the hand-hewn table, Martha at

the other. At her right is Ethan, his fork scraping the

last crumb off his plate. Lucy sits at her father's right

and Martin at his left. Next to Martin is Debbie. In the

center of the table is the sorry remnant of what was once

a meal. Lucy and Martin have finished eating. Aaron is

sipping his coffee, and Martha -- her own plate largely

untasted -- is watching Ethan.

Ethan has shaved, changed his shirt. He straightens

contentedly and every eye is on him, expectantly.

ETHAN:

Good.

The clock rattles alarmingly -- the usual preliminary to

its striking; and then it bangs out the strokes like a

fire-alarm gong. Eight fast clangs.

AARON:

Ben! Deborah! Bed!

DEBBIE:

But I've got to help with the dishes.

MARTHA:

Not tonight...Ben, put that sword

back.

BEN:

It's not a sword, ma...It's a

sabre!

(moving to Ethan)

Did you kill many damYankees with

this sabre, Uncle Ethan?

ETHAN:

(matter-of-factly)

Some...

BEN:

How many damYankees, Uncle Ethan?

MARTHA:

Ben!...Martin, he'll sleep in the

bunkhouse with you tonight.

Martin nods and crosses to kiss Martha good night.

MARTIN:

Good night, Aunt Martha...Uncle

Aaron...

(he hesitates)

Good night, Uncle Ethan.

Ethan doesn't like being called Uncle -- as we must know

from the quick look he shoots at Martin. But he

acknowledges it.

ETHAN:

Night.

Ben reluctantly puts the scabbard away, turns to Ethan.

BEN:

Will you tell me tomorrow about

the war?

AARON:

The war ended three years ago,

boy!

BEN:

It did?...Then whyn't you come home

before now?

MARTHA:

BEN!...Go 'long with Martin. MARCH!

As Ben reluctantly heads out with Martin, Deborah crosses

to Ethan's side and studies him gravely.

DEBBIE:

Lucy's wearing the gold locket you

gave her when she was a little girl...

ETHAN:

Oh?

DEBBIE:

She don't wear it much account of

it makes her neck green.

LUCY:

(aghast)

Deborah!

DEBBIE:

(defensively)

Well, it does...But I wouldn't care

if you gave me a gold locket if it

made my neck green or not.

Ethan looks at her gravely.

ETHAN:

'Fraid I...

(then he remembers

something, rises)

Wait.

He crosses to where his pack is -- a side table or something

-- and burrows into it. Debbie is at his side.

ETHAN:

How about this?

It is a gold medal or medallion -- something appropriate

to Maximilian of Mexico -- suspended by a long multi-

colored satin ribbon.

DEBBIE:

Oh! LOOK! My gold locket!

She holds it high for mother -- and all -- to see. Martha

takes it and reacts at its weight.

MARTHA:

It's solid gold...Ethan, I don't

think she's old enough...

ETHAN:

Let her keep it...Just something I

picked up in Mexico.

Martha reluctantly surrenders it to Debbie's eager hand.

Aaron hasn't missed the word "Mexico" and looks sharply

at Ethan.

DEBBIE:

Oh, thank you, Uncle Ethan...

LUCY:

(to Debbie)

Come along...

The two girls leave the main room. Martha and Aaron both

look at Ethan -- half expecting some further explanation.

He turns from them and looks into the fire. Martha begins

to clear the table. Aaron gets up, takes a pipe and a

spill -- lights it at the fire.

ETHAN:

Passed the Todd place comin' in...

What happened to 'em?

AARON:

They gave up...went back to the

cotton rows...So'd the Jamisons...

Without Martha, I don't know...She

wouldn't let a man quit.

Ethan turns and looks at her -- still busy with her dishes.

AARON:

(change of tone)

Ethan, I could see it in you before

the war...

(Ethan looks at him)

You wanted to clear out!

Martha freezes in what she's doing -- listening.

AARON:

And you stayed out beyond all need

to...WHY?

Ethan can't answer, but he takes it as a challenge and

almost welcomes it.

ETHAN:

(hard)

You askin' me to clear out now?

AARON:

(straightening -- with

grave dignity)

You're my brother...You're welcome

to stay as long as you got a mind

to...Ain't that so, Martha?

MARTHA:

(almost a whisper)

Of course he is.

ETHAN:

I expect to pay my own way...

Martha resumes her activity. Ethan crosses to his pack,

reaches into it for a leather pouch, brings it back and

tosses it onto the table. It lands with a resonant clink.

Both Martha and Aaron draw close to the table.

(NOTE TO WINTON HOCH: This scene should be dramatically

back-lighted.)

ETHAN:

There's sixty double eagles in

there...twelve-hundred dollars.

He opens a waistline shirt button and hauls out a leather

money belt and drops that on the table.

ETHAN:

An' twice that in here.

He reaches into the belt and takes out a few mint-fresh

gold pieces which he slides across the table.

ETHAN:

...only these got the late

Emperor Maximilian's picture on

'em.

Martha picks up one of the gold pieces, staring at the

face on the coin: the same as that on the medal -- staring

sharply then at Ethan. Aaron is examining another coin

with a different interest.

AARON:

Mint fresh...not a mark on 'em.

He glances questioningly at Ethan.

ETHAN:

So?

Aaron shrugs and crosses to a barrel chair. He raises the

seat and lifts out a pair of old boots, some rags of

clothing and then raises a false-bottom lid and drops

pouch and money belt into it. Carefully he replaces

everything. During this Ethan's attention has gone to

Martha's hand, to one cut finger, its wound barely

healed. He takes the hand -- gently.

ETHAN:

Cut yourself?

She nods and withdraws the hand.

ETHAN:

(softly)

You were always hurting about your

hands.

She looks quickly at him and self-consciously tries to

hide her hands, conscious of their work-worn appearance.

Then for a moment their eyes meet and hold -- and a world

of sadness and hopelessness is in the look.

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