they must be having trouble over there, though. abby, passing by, lifts her hat to wipe her face. as she does her hair falls out of the crown. women are rare in the harvest fields. one so beautiful is unprecedented.
i didn't know we had any women on.
no.
don't worry. where you from?
we hardly ever see a woman on the harvest. there is a small rip in the side of her shirt, which the camera observes with chuck. she pulls her sweater over it.
you like the work? where do you go from here?
buster.
i think so.
maybe i should keep him penned up.
big year. mclean your biggest ever. this could make you the richest man in thepanhandle. you ought to get out while you're this far ahead. you'll never do better. i mean it. you have nothing to gain by staying.u nothing to gain by staying. i
i want to expand. i want to run this land clear to the oklahoma border. next spring i will. mclean and gamble everything?u i you're crazy.
i been out here all my life. selling this place would be like cutting my heart out. this is the only home i ever had. thisi is where i belong. besides, i don't want to live in town. i couldn't take my dogs.i
probably be all done tomorrow. you still plan on going north? she nods and draws her last stitch. chuck musters his courage. it must be now or never.
reason i ask is maybe you'd like to stay on. be easier than now. there's hardly any work after harvest. the pay is just as good, though. better in fact.
i've watched you work. think about it.
who's that?
you put her on the slowest machine? benson nods.u
there's work for them, too.
good.
next?
not that i can think of. not right now. miss carter, the housekeeper, steps out on the porch and pours a bucket of milk into a cream separator.
she takes care of that. he nods at miss carter, who conspicuously lets the screen door clap shut as she goes back inside. she misses no opportunity to express her disdain for these newcomers. she and benson are the only employees seen at the belvedere. several dozen others have stayed on after the harvest but they keep to their quarters down at the dorm.
something else might come up. in truth, chuck does not want to see abby degraded by menial labor, considering her more a guest than an employee. they look at each other. abby does not know quite what to make of him
have you ever been in trouble with the law? bill looks around. abby would think it impolitic of him to speak so openly with chuck.
maybe i am. i must be.
because you're so beautiful.
worked hard, didn't fool around. i never saw a city. never had time. all i ever did is work. he digs a post hole with a shovel twice his size.
you're wonderful. she is silent for a moment. the wind moans in the rafter
he's funny. bill holds a plate up for abby to see. limoges china. abby rolls her eyes and spits out a cherry pit. they eat like pigs, with no respect for bourgeois manners.
no, but i admire people who do.
once i turned a man out in the middle of winter, without a cent of pay. for all i know he froze.
he didn't. i fired him out of resentment.
all i can think of right now. how about yourself?
almost forgot. here's your pay. bill takes the envelope chuck holds out. then, in a spasm of conscience, he gives it back.
hat's the matter?
why? bill is momentarily at a loss for words.
don't be silly.
sure. why? bill shrugs, beaming with admiration for this man who does not burden others with his secrets.
what's your mother like?
not after harvest.
once or twice a year.
why do i need to? bill catches abby's eyes. he frowns at the idea of being cooped up with this mormon all winter.
he's a strange one.
what's the matter?
what about? was something after you?
you come down here a lot, don't you? always when you're mad. you never change.
he gets on your nerves, doesn't he? he always has. now don't say something you're going to regret.
maybe you'd be happier taking over the north end till spring. i don't say this in anger. we've been together a long time, and i've always felt about you like, well, close. it just might work out better is all. less friction.
you're talking about my wife. and so chuck, too, becomes an accomplice in the scheme.
abby says that in the poor section people eat cats.
it can be rough, though.
really?
no. bill blows out the match and touches chuck's hand with the hot ember, causing him to yank it away.
you ready?
to kill a hog.
keeps the stain of guilt off. chuck nods goodbye and walks off, taking a stool with him. bill sighs with admiration.
i can't find anything around here. last week it was my gloves; this week my talc. what's going on? he stands and watches abby get ready for bed. she fills him with a deep adoration. he feels that in the tulip of her mouth at last he has found heaven.
you're beautiful.
you're smart, too, aren't you?
can i help you brush it out?
what makes you so distant with me?
you know what i'm talking about, though. you aren't that way with your brother.
but i don't blame you. did i make it sound that way?
it's just that sometimes i feel i don't know you well.
i think you love me better than before, though. she rubs her cheek against his hands. daily she feels warmer toward him. how much of this is love, how much respect or devotion, even she cannot say.
abby! i've been looking all over for you. where have you been? while she distracts chuck, bill slips back in the house. it has been a close call.
didn't you sleep well?
he was shorter than i expected.
why?
i think so. why? bill shrugs. chuck welcomes this opportunity to speak of his wife. he considers bill a good friend, in fact the only person with whom he can talk about delicate matters.
i want to get her something nice for christmas. bill, who means to kill chuck the first chance he gets, forgets this intention for a moment to give him advice.
i wish i knew how to make her happy. nothing i do really seems to.
i know. you told me.
why aren't you shooting? i left you those two on the left.
you have to keep your gun up. chuck walks ahead. the music builds a mood of tension. bill takes a practice shot into the ground. bill looks around. there is nobody in sight. he turns the sights on chuck's back. it would be simple enough. though only twenty feet away, he closes the gap, to make sure he does not miss. chuck whistles the scattered birds back to their covey. "pheo! pheo!" soon, faint and far away, comes a reply-the sweet, pathetic whistle of the quail lost in a forest of grass. the mother bird utters a low "all is well." one by one, near and far, the note is taken up, and they begin to return. bill holds his breath. his finger moves inside the trigger guard. he only has to squeeze a fraction of an inch. three more birds shoot out of the grass. chuck fires. at first we think bill has, but he cannot stoop this low. he does not have the heart. disgusted, he throws his gun on the ground. both barrels go off. chuck snaps around, startled and concerned. bill is shaking like a leaf.
what's the matter? what are you so upset about?
i never have.
abby bought me this at yellowstone. chuck shows bill his knife. bill reads a name off the handle.
doesn't bother me. should it? bill throws down the pheasant he was plucking.
what's the matter?
what's the matter? bill, still angry at himself, considers telling him.
what's going on, abby? she does not respond. he yanks the sheet off. she is wearing a nightgown. she looks up and frowns. this is the first time she has ever seen him this way.
you know what i mean. between you and bill.
something's not right, and i want to know what. abby jumps out of bed and assumes the offensive. she has no other choice.
it just doesn't look right. i don't know how brothers and sisters carry on where you come from, but.
what for? he shrugs.
never mind.
what's eating him? abby shrugs and walks down to ursula.
prairie chickens. that means winter's broken.
you hardly ever see them. they stand and listen to the birds. there is a sense of the earth stirring back to life. abby breathes in with a wild joy and hugs chuck tightly by the waist.
nothing to worry about. just shows the land is good.
you ever said that to anybody else? she giggles.
you're lying, aren't you? well, go right on lying. the camera moves to the window, beneath the eave. outside, peacocks strut back and forth.
how was chicago?
no.
offer fifty cents a bushel for them. get out the reapers. see what you can harvest.
what happens then?
there's nothing we can do but wait. they're either going to take it all or they're not. he covers his face with his hands. the others shy back at this display of grief, startling in one so formal. their jostled lanterns cast a dance of lights. bill, moved to real sympathy, takes him by the shoulders.
we could at least make sure they don't get the people on south. he breaks open the mantle of his lantern, still unsure what he should do. some of the flaming kerosene splashes onto the crops nearby, setting them ablaze. bill drops his rattle and swats the fire out with his coat.
what does it matter to you? chuck slings fire out of the broken lantern onto the crops next to bill -- a sudden, hostile gesture that catches them all by surprise. independent of his will, the truth is forcing its way up, like a great blind fish from the bottom of the sea. he slings the fire out again. a patch lands on bill's pantleg. bill slaps it out.
why do you care? i gave my life for this land. chuck walks towards him. suddenly bill turns and takes off running. chuck swings at him with the lantern. bill escapes behind the building wall of flame that springs up between them. the whirr of the locusts stops for a moment--they seem at times to have a collective mind--then, just as mysteriously, resumes.
you look as though you'd seen a ghost. where you going? off with him? the wind cuts gaps in the death wail of the locusts. from time to time we hear the thump of an exploding well.
he's not your brother, is he? how much does he know? she edges toward the door.
come here a minute. who are you? where'd you come from?
what'd you want? he punches in the shade of a lamp, extinguishing it.
tell me. he shoves over the chest of drawers. she does not move. he tears down the drapes, already in shreds.
this? show me what you wanted! i would have given it all to you.
please what? you're not going to tell me you're sorry, i hope.
you're so wonderful. how could you do this?
the things you told me.
down at the cave. don't you remember? i believed them.
away? he gets up, suddenly alarmed, walks to the mantel and opens a chest.
i'm sick of hearing lies. he stuffs a handkerchief in her mouth and leaves.
where you headed?
wasn't his fault. tell her. forgive them. the locusts can be heard no more. the prairie makes a sound like the ocean. chuck turns his back and dies.