Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 180

LON [_sullenly_]. I _knowed_ you'd come.

GHOST [_triumphantly_]. And you believe in me, eh? Well, that's good, too.

LON [_stubbornly_]. Believe? Well! I knowed I'd be seein' things soon, what with the booze. I knowed it'd be the snakes or you. Padie told me I'd be seein' things.

GHOST [_maliciously_]. So you believe in _her_, anyway. Well, how's Padie--and the children?

LON. You know d.a.m.n well we ain't had none.

GHOST. What, no children! How unfortunate! The house of love not to be graced with fruit ... sterile, sterile.

LON [_belligerently_]. Er you referrin' to me?

GHOST. To your spiritual union only, my friend. Physically, I know, nothing was wanting for a perfect match,--female form divine to mate with big blond beast. A race of superpeople!

LON. What the h.e.l.l 'r' you gabbin'? You allus had a lot of talky-talk.

That's what made a hit with Padie, before, before--

GHOST. Before the Other Man came along and cut us both out. [_Sings._]

And many a girl that stays at home alone And rocks the cradle and spins.

GHOST [_reflectively_]. Yes, I'm afraid we both stood up pretty poorly alongside him. I had the words, the brain, the idea. I could charm her, tantalize her, quicken her mind, arouse her imagination. That's why I cut you out with her.

LON [_sneeringly_]. Gab!

GHOST. Yes, gab. It was one better to her than mere brute--guts! You personified strength. You didn't have nerves enough to be afraid of anything. You had endurance, cheek, deviltry, and a kind of raw good nature. These took with the gay, immature girl she was, until I came.

You had--Guts; I had--Gab.

LON. And the Other Feller?

GHOST. He had the Gift.

LON. What you mean?

GHOST. He was a full man. His personality exuded from him like incense.

It wrapped and enfolded you and warmed you, and yet it was not a grain feminine, but deeply, proudly masculine. You tolerated him, I--loved him. I had the fine pa.s.sion for Padie, but when I first saw the two of them together I _knew_ she was his, or [_with a keen, stern look at Lon_] _ought_ to be ... and she _has_ been, always.

LON [_jumping to his feet, and knocking over his chair_]. You lie like h.e.l.l! She's mine! She's been mine all these three years! I won her and I own her! What little of love she ever had fer you or him is buried down in Laguna Madre with the bones of both of ye! And all h.e.l.l can't take her from me!

GHOST [_rising tall and pale_]. _He_ kin, and he's done it! You _thought_ you'd got her. But he's had her, or rather, she's had _him_ in her heart ever since they took the rope from his neck and p.r.o.nounced him legally dead, and justice vindicated, and laid him away in the desert.

All that time since, he's belonged to her. When you laid by her side nights, it was _his_ arm she felt about her waist, not yours; his breath was on her cheek, and his heart was beating against hers. Oh you poor, poor fool!

LON [_throwing his gla.s.s straight at the ghost_]. You lyin' pup!

GHOST [_bursting into a gale of eerie laughter_]. Ha! ha! ha! you _poor_ fool! _Now_ you believe in me!

[_Lon whips out his revolver and aims at the ghost, then slowly returns it to the holster, as he realizes the futility of the move._]

GHOST. Go on, my boy! Let's have another one here. [_He points to the dark hole in his forehead._]

[_Lon, wiping his own face with the back of his hand, and shuddering, slumps down into his seat and stares vacantly at the table._]

GHOST. Another one, just like the last--for your friend and pardner.

[_He stresses the words with intense irony._] Do you remember the _last_ time you pulled that trick? What a foxy one it was! How astutely planned! _Planned_, my friend. I remember when we two went up the canyon together, just such a shining night as this, I asked you why you had borrowed--the Other Man's horse, and you said, yours was a little lame.

Oh! excellent dissembler! Most crafty of liars! You _stole_ that horse.

You stole that horse to put a rope around the Other Man's neck! You knew the pinto was shod different from any pony in those parts. You knew where they'd track him to, when they found the job you'd done. Then we sat down to smokes and cards. And I remember the curious glitter in your eyes. I was dealing. [_The Ghost shuffles the cards on the table, then lays down the pack in front of Lon._] Cut!

[_Lon mechanically obeys._]

GHOST [_dealing_]. And after several hands, you brought up the subject of Padie. And I told you I was out of the race--and that you'd better get out too, because the best man already had her. And then--and then I sensed you were going to draw, and when I had my gun out, it was empty.

Clever boy! You had it fixed right. And so you plugged me square. And the moon and stars went out for me and I dropped into the black gulf.

[_Lon, throwing his hand down, buries his face in his hands, groaning._]

GHOST [_pitilessly_]. You left me with my face to the stars for the coyotes to find. Then, very coolly, you turned the Other Man's horse toward home and sent him off cracking. And you jumped to a pinon log that led off to a ledge of lava where your footprints wouldn't show. And you turned up in half an hour with the boys in town. Then you inquired casually where the Other Man was. You _knew_, you devil! You knew they'd never get an alibi from him for that night, 'cause--Padie was with him.

Padie had her dear arms about his neck while you, clever dog! were out fixing to put a rope there. And you done it, too! _Won_ her? Yes, you did--like h.e.l.l! After the trial was all over, and the dead buried, me and him, you pa.s.sed a dirty whisper around town about her, and then married her, to save her good name. That's how you won her.

[_There is an immense silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of Lon, which comes in rattling gasps._]

GHOST [_sings_].

There's many a star shall jangle in the west, There's many a leaf below, There's many a d.a.m.n that will light upon the man For treating a poor girl so.

GHOST. But I ain't forgot all you done for me. Neither has the Other Man, [_with deep solemnity_] and he's come--to settle too--

LON [_staggering up_]. No! I don't believe in you! You're nothin' at all! There ain't no--

[_Lon sways and catches at the table; as he swings around, the figure of Another stands outside the door, a tall figure with something white twisted about its neck. Lon with a cry of horror puts out his arms as if to ward off the apparition and backs slowly toward the left wall._]

FIRST GHOST [_coming toward him_]. Murderer! betrayer! We've come to settle!

LON [_screaming_]. No! no! no! I don't believe--

[_He falls, and the pile of rubbishy furniture topples over on to him with a crash. The two apparitions vanish. The door to the bar is flung open and Hank leaps in, at the same moment that Padie appears above, whitely clad._]

PADIE. Lon! Lon! What's the matter?

HANK [_going toward the pile of stuff_]. Go back! It's something terrible.

[_He heaves the heavy pieces from the body and drags it out, as Padie, with a long cry, flies down the stairs. He feels the breast quickly and rises before Padie reaches the table._]

HANK. I'm afraid he's done for.

PADIE [_drawing a deep quivering breath_]. Oh.

HANK. He must 'a' fell.

PADIE. I knew--drink'd do fer him.