Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays
Chapter 177 : VOICE OF HANK [_rather rich and fine_]."When your heart was mine, true love, And

VOICE OF HANK [_rather rich and fine_].

"When your heart was mine, true love, And your head lay on my breast, You could make me believe By the falling of your arm That the sun rose up in the west--"

[_There is a momentary pause, filled in by--_

A VOICE. Y'oughter go courtin' with that throat o' yourn, Hank.

Mace [_as if misanthrope_]. Aw, women--

[_During the laugh that follows, an auto horn blares outside and a bright shaft is visible through the rear windows._]

VOICES. Stage's come! Stage's come!

[_There are sounds indicating the rapid evacuation of the Bar, and a moment later one of the rear doors is jerked open and the Stage Driver enters, dragging in two heavy suitcases which he deposits near the small table with appropriate grunts, meanwhile encouraging the pa.s.sengers to enter._]

STAGE DRIVER. Uh! perty lumpy bags--come in, folks, come in! Seems like you might be carryin' all your b'longings.

[_The two pa.s.sengers enter; the man, quickly, nervously, almost furtively; the woman, with that weariness which ignores everything except its own condition._]

STAGE DRIVER. Come in and set, lady; don't be skeered. Looks a little spooky, but Hank'll have a glim fer ye in two shakes. [_Places a chair for her._] Here, I know you're plumb tuckered. Make y'self t'home.

[_Looking around at the drear surroundings._] 'S fer 's yer able.

THE MAN. I thought the stage went through to Hollow Eye to-night?

DRIVER. Well, sir, she do, but this time she don't. I've been havin' to run ten miles on low already and I jest don't _dast_ take her across that thirty miles of sand the way she is. She'll drink water like a thusty hoss and like as not lay down and die on us half way out. Then where'd we be? No sir; you folks'll just have to camp here at Fever Flat till I kin do a tinkerin' job to-morrow mornin'. So I'll step into the Bar and tell Hank you're here. [_At the door to the Bar._] Hank'll do the best he kin fer ye. He's a squ'ar man. Good-night to ye! [_Goes out, leaving the door half open._]

THE MAN [_briefly_]. Good-night. [_Looking about._] What a hole! Like somebody died here and they'd gone off and left it all stand just the way it was. [_He goes to the open door at the rear and stares at the naked moonlit b.u.t.tes._] Them hills gits my goat. They're nothin' but blitherin skeletons, and this bunch of shacks they call Fever Flat looks like no more'n a d.a.m.n bone yard to me. [_Shutting the door._] Ugh! it's cold in here. Feel like I was sittin' on my own grave's edge.

THE WOMAN [_scarcely raising her head, and speaking with no emotion, in a dead dry voice._] You didn't use to be so pernickety, when you was punchin' on the range, Lon.

LON [_waspishly_]. And you didn't use to look like a hag, neither, Padie.

PADIE [_with a momentary flash_]. Drink's poisoning your tongue, too.

LON [_viciously_]. Who's drinking? Cain't I take a thimbleful now'n then without all this jawin'?

PADIE. You ain't takin' thimblefuls. You're just soakin' it up. You'll be gettin' snakes if you keep on. 'n then, what'll _I_ do? [_Resuming her air of weary indifference._] Not that I care so much what you do with yourself--or what becomes of me. Nothing matters.

LON [_petulent and aggrieved_]. There you go, actin' abused. How 'bout _my_ rights 'n pleasures? Ain't got none, I s'pose.

PADIE. Oh, shut up, you make me sick.

[_Hank enters; a ruddy, vigorous, young man, strangely out of place among all this rubbish. He wears a barkeeper's ap.r.o.n and speaks cordially._]

HANK. Howdyedo, folks! Howdye do! Well, this is a kinda rough lay-out fer you-all. Y'see the Stage is due here at five, and stops fer grub, then makes Hollow Eye by about nine, but here 'tis ... [_pulls out watch_] half an hour of midnight an' I s'pose you ain't et, yet, eh?

[_Lights the gla.s.s lamp._]

PADIE. Thanks. We've had sandwiches, but maybe my husband'd like something.

LON [_significantly_]. Wet.

[_Padie shrugs indifferently, and fixes her hair. As she turns toward Hank, the light for the first time falls full on his face.

Padie stares fixedly at him, and half rises, with a little cry._]

LON [_with a quick, startled glance at Hank, speaks to her in a sharp, threatening voice_]. Padie! Sit down! Are you gittin' plumb loco drivin'

out so late in autymobiles? [_To Hank, apologetically._] You kinda fl.u.s.tered us, mister, cause you have a little the look a friend of ourn that died suddint. Mournful case. Pardner o'mine. No, you're not much like. He was tall, heavy-built and lighter complected. Must a been consid'ble older, too.

PADIE [_almost in a whisper_]. No.

LON. Older, I say. My wife's kinda wrought up by this here little spell of travelin'.

HANK [_sympathetically_]. Oh, you're not used to it, eh?

PADIE [_slowly and deliberately_]. We've been at it--[_draws out the word into a burden_] years.

LON [_impatiently_]. That is, off'n on, m'dear. Only off'n on.

PADIE [_monotonously_]. All the time.

HANK [_trying to be a little jocose to break the oppressive atmosphere_]. Should think you might hanker after yer own nest, lady.

PADIE [_rising rudely_]. Well, just keep your thoughts!

HANK [_completely abashed_]. Yes, ma'am. Your room is just at the top of the landin'. I'll make ye a light. [_He hustles away upstairs to cover his embarra.s.sment, taking the suitcases with him._]

LON [_irritably_]. You're always tryin' to belittle me in public. Is that any way fer a wife to act? I wanta know.

PADIE. What do you always lie so fer?

LON [_with rising voice_]. That's my business. I'll do as I d.a.m.n please.

And don't you go too fer, crossin' me. I won't stand it. Some day I'll up, an--

PADIE [_contemptuously_]. Beat me. That's all that's left to _you_, wife-beater.

[_Lon raises his hand as though to strike her, but lets it fall as Hank reappears on the landing._]

HANK. Excuse me, m'am. Have you your own towels by you? Ourn is pretty scaly. It's been so long since we've had in women folks, at least, ladies.

PADIE [_moving toward the stair_]. Thanks, we have some.

[_Lon to Padie as Hank, hidden from audience, descends._]

LON. You might as well be decent, Padie. You ain't got none other but me.

PADIE [_bitterly_]. Yes, you've took me from 'em. We've been trapsin and trapsin till I'm plumb sick. Yes, I'm--

[_Her voice breaks and she runs blindly toward the stair, almost into the arms of Hank, which further increases his consternation._]

HANK [_holding her off_]. Stidy, stidy. There's the ladder, m'am. Can't I fetch you somethin'? Toddy?