REBECCA: What don’t?
PATRICK: When I hunt, I don’t “pretend” I’m a deer or nothin’. I just am. I’m out here in the woods and things just get real . . . still . . . or somethin’ . . .
REBECCA: You talk like that, you sound like your ma when she conjures over them herbs of hers.
PATRICK: It ain’t magic or nothin’. It’s just . . . (Then shyly:) When I reach that place, when I just am, there, with the forest, then it’s like I can call the deer or somethin’. I call’em and they come. Like I was still waters and green pastures, ’stead of hunger and lead.
Rebecca strokes his face.
REBECCA: Nobody hunts as good as you, that’s a fact, not in these hills.
PATRICK: My pa can hunt.
REBECCA: Shoot! He can’t hold no candle to you.
PATRICK: Yeah?
REBECCA: Oh yeah.
He kisses her. She pulls him down on top of her.
REBECCA: I want lots of kids, don’t you?
He moans assent.
Bunches and bunches.
He kisses her throat.
What’d your pa say when you talked to him?
He freezes.
You talked to him, right?
He rolls off her onto his back.
You didn’t, did you! You promised you would and you didn’t! I swear, sometimes I think you’re just scared of him!
PATRICK: I ain’t scared!
REBECCA: Well, fine, then. Talk to him about it!
PATRICK: It ain’t all that easy.
REBECCA: What’s so hard about it? You just tell him—“Pa, me and Rebecca Talbert’s wantin’ to get married.”
PATRICK: You don’t know him. You can’t just say nothin’ like that to him.
REBECCA: Well, don’t say nothin’ then! Let’s just run off! Get outta here! We don’t need’em.
PATRICK: I AIN’T LEAVIN’ THIS LAND! It’s mine! I don’t want anywheres else!
Beat.
REBECCA: Then talk to him.
PATRICK: I will.
REBECCA: When?
PATRICK: Soon.
REBECCA: When?
PATRICK: As soon as he gets back from Louisville!
REBECCA: When’ll that be?
PATRICK: Any day now. He’s late. We spected him back last week.
Beat.
REBECCA: You think mebbe he got kilt or somethin’?
PATRICK: Not unless a mountain fell on him.
REBECCA: What’s that supposed to mean?
PATRICK: It’s just . . . he ain’t dead, that’s all. I’d know it if he was.
REBECCA: Well, how come your pa’s so late gettin’ back, you suppose?
PATRICK: I don’t know. Cain’t never figure him. Maybe . . . Ever year, on each of these trips to Louisville, he makes a big show outta buyin’ somethin’ for Ma. Maybe that’s what’s takin’ so long.
REBECCA: Well, that’s nice.
PATRICK: No it ain’t. There’s always some meanness in his givin’. First time, it was a hand mirror.
REBECCA: So?
PATRICK: Well, Ma ain’t never seen a glass before, and it scared her half to death. She thought it was bad magic or somethin’. He said not to worry—any old devil she saw in there, he’d been lookin’ at for years and it ain’t never kilt him yet! Well, she threw that mirror at him, busted it into a thousand pieces. This is a two-dollar mirror, mind you!
REBECCA: No!
PATRICK: Next trip, he brung her that big tin tub that sits up in the yard there so’s she could soak her leg whenever it stiffens up on her.
REBECCA: What’s so mean about that?
He hesitates, then looks away.
PATRICK: Nothin’. (Beat.) He got somethin’ special in mind, this time—been thinkin’ hard on it all winter. I watch him. He’s figurin’ somethin’ out.
REBECCA: How come you talk about him like that?
PATRICK: Like what?
REBECCA: Callin’ him “him” and “he” instead of “my pa” or “my daddy.” You never call him nothin’ like that. It’s like you ain’t really kin or something.
Beat.
PATRICK: I had me a sister, once. ’Bout tore my ma inside out, havin’ her. Tore her up fierce. I never saw so much blood.
REBECCA: And the baby?
Beat.
PATRICK: He took her away, somewheres.
REBECCA: Your pa?
PATRICK: He said he was doin’ her a mercy. Said she was sick and wouldn’t goin’ to last. But she looked fine to me. Star had beaded this piece of buckskin for her so fine, it looked like she pinned all the stars in the sky to it. He wrapped the baby up innit and took her away and we never saw her agin. Only time in my life I ever seen Ma beg him. Usually she just quiet as the grave no matter what he do or say, but she cried and begged him for that baby. Didn’t seem to make him no never mind. (Beat.) He ain’t never even told Ma where she’s buried. I usta look for her grave all the time, but I ain’t never found nothing. (Beat.) Waste of time.
REBECCA: Gimme goose bumps just thinkin’ about it. You reckon mebbe she ain’t at rest, bein’ buried like that?
PATRICK: You mean, is she a haint, or somethin’?
She nods.
Nah. I seen a whole lotta death, and I ain’t never seen nothin’ dead get up and walk agin. I don’t worry none about the dead. (Beat.) What’re you supposed to be doin’ over this way, anyhow?
REBECCA (indicating the basket): Huckleberries. My daddy’s real partial to ’em. Well, leave a few! I gotta look like I been doin’ somethin’ when I get back or he’ll tan my hide.
PATRICK (eating the berries): Good.
REBECCA: ’Course, gettin’ ’round my daddy’s not all that hard. But Jeremiah? Now, he’s a nosy one. Always wantin’ to know where I’m goin’, when I’ll be back.
PATRICK: He’s just lookin’ out for you.
REBECCA: That’s what he says! But he’s just lookin’ out for himself. Have a fit if he thought I was gettin’ away with somethin’ that he wasn’t.
PATRICK: I’m sure he ain’t that bad. Probably real nice to have a brother.
REBECCA: Well, you can have Jeremiah if your heart’s so set on it!
PATRICK: Hold on! (Beat.) See that?
REBECCA: What?
PATRICK: In the gap there.
REBECCA: I don’t see nothin’.
PATRICK: There’s a glint there. Like metal. There it is agin! Somebody’s comin’ through there. In a hurry.
REBECCA: Is it your pa?
PATRICK: More’n likely. I’m gonna go finish up, then git back to home.
He rises, starts to exit.
REBECCA: You gonna talk to him about us?
PATRICK: I said so, didn’t I?
REBECCA: When?!
He stops and thinks.
PATRICK: I’ll do it tonight. He’s always feelin’ good when he gets back from one of these trips. Gets good and likkered up, anyway. You bring your pa over after dark ’n they can make a deal.
REBECCA: What’s your pa gonna want, you think?
PATRICK (smiling): What’s your pa got? (He kisses her.) I love you.
She bends down to get her basket, and as she does so he disappears into the woods.
REBECCA: It’s gonna be fine, I know it. I just gotta feelin’. I . . . (She looks up, but he is gone. Then, to the trees and the darkness around her:) I love you.
Fade out.
SCENE TWO
Dusk. The front yard of the Rowen house. The original single room has been expanded. Among other additions is a simple front porch and steps. The house and the yard are bare and unadorned, strictly functional.
There is a pile of logs on the porch and an old axe. In the yard is a tin tub, partially fille
d with water.
Patrick enters, cradling his rifle and a pair of dead rabbits. He walks up to the house, leans his gun against the wall, and goes inside. He returns almost immediately and stands on the porch looking out.
Star limps in, carrying two wooden buckets full of water. She stops and looks at Patrick.)
STAR: Ostas hindhalid? [Good hunting?]
PATRICK: Couple of rabbits. Here, gimme those, Ma.
He throws his bag onto the porch, lays his rifle down, and takes the buckets from her. He pours them into the tub.
STAR: To hi ju? [How are you?]
PATRICK: I’m fine.
STAR: It embarrasses you now to speak the language of your grandfathers?
PATRICK: No. It don’t embarrass me. I just don’t see the point.
STAR: Not to forget who you are, that is the point.
PATRICK: Not much danger of that around here, is there?
Beat.
STAR: I’ll bring your supper out. Cooler on the porch.
He sits. She goes in, returns with a bowl of food. She picks up the rabbits while he eats.
PATRICK (eating): Good.
STAR: Took you all day to get these? Losin’ your touch.
PATRICK: Didn’t take me all—
Before he can finish protesting, Star goes inside with the rabbits. She returns.
Most of the mornin’ I sat up on the ridge.
STAR: Oh. Corn gonna plant itself this year?
PATRICK: I finished that piece on the Shilling.
STAR: Uh-huh. What’s on the ridge worth a visit?
PATRICK: Nothin’. Just did me some thinkin’.
STAR: Alone?
Beat.
PATRICK: Mostly.
STAR: I knew when that Talbert girl come sniffin’ ’round here this mornin’ you wasn’t gonna get a lick of work done.
PATRICK: I planted the damn field!
STAR: Don’t curse in front of your ma.
PATRICK: Don’t see what you got against the Talberts. From what I hear you’re a regular visitor over there.
Beat.
STAR: What is it you hear?
PATRICK: You doctored her pa.
STAR: His name is Joseph.
PATRICK: Joseph? Michael know about it?
STAR: What do you think?
PATRICK: I think he hears about it, he’ll skin you alive.
STAR: Are you gonna tell him? (Beat.) Folks think I have the Gift for healin’ and readin’ dreams. Because I’m different. Because I’m Cherokee. Michael laughs, but as long as they pay, he laughs to himself. I think, why should he have all this money? Why not my son? And so, when I can, I see people secretly. Like Joseph.
PATRICK: For me?
STAR: Someday you’ll want land of your own. A woman of your own.
PATRICK: Why hide it from me?
STAR: So if Michael finds out, he’ll be angry only with me.
Beat. Patrick crosses over and hugs her knees, puts his head in her lap.
PATRICK: Do yu jiskanoqi. Skidoliga? [I am sorry. Forgive me?] (Star kisses him on the top of his bead, strokes his hair roughly.)
STAR: I gvkewidina. [It is forgotten.] You want this Ruth Talbert?
PATRICK: Rebecca.
STAR: Whatever. What she wants, you can give her easy enough. You don’t have to marry her for that.
PATRICK: She ain’t like that.
STAR: I see. Maybe she’s smarter than I thought.
PATRICK: I love her.
STAR: You love her. Now. Today, you love her. But tomorrow? Next year? Chuji. Why so much hurry? Why marry her?
Beat.
PATRICK: If I marry her, maybe her pa’d gimme that piece of bottom land next to ours.
She cuffs him.
STAR: You are your father’s son. Truly.
PATRICK: Well, break the news easy to him, will you? The shock just might kill him.
STAR: I never understand this. What you two have is never enough. You work from sunrise to sunset and you can’t plow all what you have now, but you want more. More land! Why?
PATRICK: It’s the only thing that lasts.
Beat.
STAR: You live like that, Chuji, you live a lonely life.
PATRICK: Somethin’ different.
STAR: Everybody gotta right to some happiness, osta Chuji. You gotta right.
PATRICK: She makes me happy. Rebecca. (Beat.) You help me?
STAR: How?
PATRICK: Talk to him for me. ’Bout us.
She walks to the tub, runs her hand through the water.
STAR: Michael don’t listen to me.
PATRICK: He’s comin’ back.
She hesitates.
STAR: You seen him?
PATRICK: This mornin’.
STAR: You sure?
PATRICK: Somebody was movin’ through the gap in a hurry.
STAR: Coulda been anybody.
PATRICK: Who?
STAR: When’ll he get here?
PATRICK: Tonight, mebbe. Tomorrow for sure. But tonight, I think. (Beat.) You could tell him . . . tell him that Talbert bottom land’d give us a third agin as much.
STAR: It give your pa a third agin as much.
She takes his plate and starts into the house.
PATRICK: Same thing. It’s all gonna come down to me, innit?
STAR: Is it?
She goes into the house. Patrick stares after her in confusion. She returns and sits on the porch.
PATRICK: What’re you talkin’ ’bout?
STAR: I’m not sayin’ nothin’. Said too much already. (Preoccupied, she absentmindedly strokes her injured leg.)
PATRICK (referring to her leg): We gonna get us some rain?
STAR: Huh? (She shrugs.) Just thinkin’.
PATRICK: Your leg botherin’ you a lot?
She shrugs and looks off into the woods where Michael is.
Here. Lemme rub it for you.
He sits next to her. Star hikes up her skirt and swings her leg into his lap. He begins to knead her scarred calf. She leans back against a post, her eyes closed.
What’d you mean about . . . about the land not comin’ to me? I’m his only son.
STAR: Are you?
PATRICK: What d’you mean, “Are you?”—“Is it?” You know somethin’, why don’t you just say it, ’stead of dancin’ around!
STAR: Lower.
PATRICK: What?
STAR: Rub lower.
He does so.
What does Michael do in Louisville?
PATRICK: I don’t know.
STAR: How come?
PATRICK: ’Cause I ain’t never been.
STAR: How come?
PATRICK: ’Cause I gotta stay here and take care of things!
Beat.
STAR: He got a woman down there.
PATRICK: How do you know?
STAR: I seen her in a dream.
PATRICK: You seen her?
STAR: Blue eyes, corn-silk hair. She always be crossin’ a muddy river in my dreams.
PATRICK: Muddy water? That’s death.
Star nods.
Mebbe she’s dead already.
STAR: Mebbe.
PATRICK: What I care if he got some woman down there? Specially if she’s dead now.
STAR: Mebbe she had him a baby.
PATRICK: He . . . he got him another family down there?
STAR: Why else he always got to go alone? You a growned man, Chuji. With your help, he could pack in twice as much on these trips. You ever knowed Michael to turn his back on a dollar? How come he don’t take you?
PATRICK: You seen the baby in your dream?
STAR: Clear as the bottom of the Shillin�
�.
PATRICK: Boy or girl?
STAR: She give him a son.
PATRICK: A son!
STAR: Where does that leave you?
PATRICK: I’d still be the oldest! It’d all still come to me! That’s the law!
STAR: Law? (She laughs.) Michael ever pay a whole lotta mind to the law?
PATRICK: Why wouldn’t he let me have my share?
STAR: You know why.
PATRICK: Why?!
STAR: ’Cause he hates you.
PATRICK: That’s a lie!
STAR: Look me in the face and tell me it is!
He can’t.
PATRICK: Why? Why’s he hate me? Nothin’ I ever do is right. Never has been. He looks at me like I was some kinda mad dog, gonna tear somethin’ precious away from him.
STAR: He’s afraid of you.
PATRICK: Afraid?! Hell, Michael Rowen ain’t afraid of nothin’!
STAR: Look at yourself, Chuji, look! See yourself as you really are—not like that hungry dog he turns you into, the one who whines and licks the hand that beats him. You are bigger than him now. And stronger. He sees you and he feels old. He feels tired. He sees his death in you. That’s how you scare him, Chuji. And that’s why he hates you. Because there is no forgiving that. And that’s why he will never give you your rightful share of this land. Your land. Not till you bury him in it! (Beat.) Ask him. You don’t believe me? Ask him for your share and see what he says.
MICHAEL (offstage): Halllooooo the house!
PATRICK: You help me?
She nods.
Michael walks on, carrying an enormous pack. He stands and considers them.
MICHAEL: There’s a sight to warm your heart. Lovin’ wife and lovin’ son, anxiously waitin’ up for the master of the house. You’re like one of them fancy paintin’s, the two of you! The Homecomin’! (He drops the pack.) Take it inside, boy, and bring me a jug.
Patrick goes inside.
STAR: You hungry?
MICHAEL: Only for the sight of you, beloved.
STAR: What’d you bring me this time?
MICHAEL: “What’d you bring me?” Well, that’s nice. No warm embrace first? No kisses on my old gray head? Just “What’d I bring you?”
Patrick returns with the jug.
You’ve grown.
PATRICK: Yeah?
MICHAEL: A head taller at least. Still ugly as sin, but bigger. (He drinks.) Was that you standin’ up on the ridge this mornin’ in front of God and everybody?
PATRICK: I was up on the ridge.
The Kentucky Cycle Page 4