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Parting Dialogue from Previous Scene: (REPORTER): Miss Fanny, while all the time you tried to dissuade Miss Juniper … did Elizabeth ever catch on to the transformation that was happening right under her nose, as it were? (Repeated below)
ACT III
TO CURTAIN
CHARACTERS:
Fanny Barnwarmer: Eighty-five-year-old woman with plenty of spark and sizzle still in her. Has been performing at the Tavern for forty-four years.
Reporter: Mid-thirties. Works for the New York Times, on assignment in Brady, Texas to write a human-interest story on the famous Fanny Barnwarmer.
Herbie: Son of Brady Inn’s owner. Has been given the assignment to take the Reporter to the train station.
SETTING: Front porch of Fanny Barnwarmer’s home. Rocking chair, DOWNSTAGE RIGHT, facing kitchen chair, CENTER, and front steps behind, which descend to street level with a flowerbed to the side. OFFSTAGE LEFT, street sounds of traffic: of vintage 1929 cars, some horse whinnying, etc., that continue as a kind stew of white-noise background throughout the scene.
PLACE/TIME: Brady Texas, 4:20 PM, Sunday, August 11, 1929
AT RISE: As with the previous scenes, FANNY and the REPORTER sit facing each other.
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REPORTER:
Miss Fanny, while all the time you tried to dissuade Miss Juniper … did Elizabeth ever catch on to the transformation that was happening right under her nose, as it were?
FANNY:
Not so’s a body could tell. Mama ’Lizabeth, she jes’ be layin’ there, those big brown eyes th’ onliest thing be movin’.
REPORTER:
But surely, behind those eyes … thinking was going on.
FANNY:
(Showing some annoyance at his questions she couldn't answer)
Mama ’Lizabeth died ’bout a week inter th’ new year. Th’ year o’ eighteen an’ eighty-four. I a’ready telled ya ’bout th’ bequeathin’.
REPORTER:
Yes, you did. So, Elizabeth died in eighteen-eighty-four. And … still—a whole year passed before you left for Texas.
FANNY:
Y’ain’t lettin’ nothin’ git past y’all, are ya, Robert?
REPORTER:
But why? I thought she had the spirit in her after that last letter. So, why did she wait a year?
FANNY:
(A weary sigh)
’Acause … as hard as she be pushin’ t’ward it, I be pullin’ back jes’ as hard. Oh, Robert … you don’ know whet all I did! I sended fer books an’ maps o’ th’ whole dad-blamed world. They come in boxes an’ I ’splained how we’s young an’ theys a whole world o’ ’venurin’ to do. Any fool o’ knowed money opens up da world—an’ Lordy how we gots th’ money. So I gits her to study up ’bout those places right ’long with me—th’ Oryent an’ Arraby an’ Englund an’ Paree … an’ what all … an’ soon I git her to travul with our fingers on th’ maps from one t’other … an’ then when I git her laughin’ ...
(She looks to the ceiling with a wistful smile)
gall-blamed if I ain’t ’bout got her convicted we should jes’ shove our pockets full o’ money an’ jump on th’ nex’ big ol’ plane—
REPORTER:
And …
FANNY:
Thet’s when Ain’t Pikki come over with a letter.
REPORTER:
Oh, geez!
FANNY:
We ain’t seen much o’ Ain’t Pikki since th’ fune’ral though she only live down th’ road a piece. I knowed she still feeled terr’bul ’bout her words on th’ tren what started th’ whole thing with my Juni.
REPORTER:
I bet she did. So … the letter?
FANNY:
I think I tol’ you ’afore thet Ain’t Pikki got two letters.
REPORTER:
Maybe … I’d have to check my notes.
FANNY:
They’s th’ one letter what tol’ all th’ sisternly things, what she readed to me’n Juni. An’ she kept thet letter. But th’ last part o’ thet letter was kindly tagged on later, at th’ end by Mama ’Lizabeth. An’ I do b’lieve as how thet part be writ a’ter her first stroke … an’ y’all be seein’ why directly. Th’ tagged on part be what to do with th’ secon’ letter if’n she pass on t’ glory—she bein’ Mama ’Lizabeth. Thet secon’ letter be all thick an’ puffy-like.
REPORTER:
Okay … Excuse my confusion, Miss Fanny. But I have to make sure I have this down right. So stop me if I’m wrong. The letter which she read to you, but later kept, was of personal, sisterly matters, but had something tagged on at the end concerning the second letter. Right?
FANNY:
Right as rain!
REPORTER:
And you saw her get both these letters at the reading of Elizabeth’s will? Both sealed?
FANNY:
Both sealed.
REPORTER:
So … Well … Okay, so then she read the tagged-on part of the letter to you, right?
FANNY:
(Nodding)
It sayd thet Ain’t Pikki be th’ care-keeper o’ what be inside t’other letter—th’ thick an’ puffy one—what be thick an’ puffy ’acause it be crammed with money. Th’ tagged-on part, it tell Ain’t Pikki to see to it thet the money go to a cause what benefits other people.
REPORTER:
But Elizabeth could have bequeathed that in her will. Still ... that’s beside the point.
(beat)
And yet, Aunt Pikki brought the sealed second letter to Miss Juniper?
FANNY:
It waren’t sealed. Narry a thing in th’ first letter telled her she shoun’t open the second letter. Which she do. An’ now she put it in my Juni’s hand.
(With a wry smile)
An’ to save you y’all’s infernal questionin’, Mister Reporter … I tell ya what Ain’t Pikki telled Juni. She say, “Since ya got y’all’s haid turned ’round an’ ya got th’ fool notion to finish yo’ mama’s doin’s … this be fer you.” An’ she turned. An’ she left.
REPORTER:
(A perplexed smile on his face)
But that’s so bizarre! What?
FANNY:
’Spect y’all’d like t’read th’ paper what be with th’ money.
(Fishes through the album; stops to take a few breaths through her nose, then plucks out a sheet and holds it out to the REPORTER)
REPORTER:
But you’re okay? Miss Fanny?
(Scrutinizes her for a long moment, until she nods, then he reluctantly looks down at the sheet)
Why this is an accountancy ledger of sorts, with marginal notes and scrawled comments, and with a starting amount of eleven-thousand six-hundred and seventy-one dollars. Interesting. What is—
FANNY:
Look at th’ bottom.
REPORTER:
Yes. I see … there was an asterisk after the amount.
(His forefinger traces to the bottom)
Let’s see. It says, "$4,000 @ 5.5% int. = $11,671."
(Glancing up from sheet to FANNY)
The four-thousand dollars …?
FANNY:
From th’ trial …
REPORTER:
O-kaaay, so, as soon as she got the money from the judge, she immediately put it in a bank account, earning the going rate for close to twenty years which would grow to $11,671. You know, it could have been a lot more if she’d let it grow in her husband’s investment portfolio. A lot more.
FANNY:
Spectin she din’t wanna put dirty money t’ sully th’ clean.
REPORTER:
(Reading)
So, the first entry after that was for $17.23. In parentheses beside it, Oct. 13, 1882, Train fare, St. Lous to Dallas. Oh … I see!
FANNY:
The ticket be there, with th’ money. My Juni used it hersef fer her trip to Dallas. I buyed m’own ticket.
REPORTER:
(Back to the ledger)
Of course. And the balance brought down was $11,653.77. There’s another entry after that for, let’s see, Jun. 23, 1885, $6.92, and in the margin—oh, I see; this is in a different handwriting. It would have been written by Juni since she took over her Mama’s ledger—
FANNY:
Nope. By me … akshully. It be for th’ stagecoach—see it there?—from Dallas t’ Brady City. Back in eighteen an’ eighty-five, no train be goin’ to Brady City. I buyed m’own stagecoach ticket.
REPORTER:
I see that. And the balance brought down after Juniper's ticket is $11,646.85.
(Chuckling)
I see it had been rounded up to 11, 647.00. But the double noughts were scratched out and the eighty-five cents replaced it.
FANNY:
Yep. I reck’lect that. I aimed to make it easier. But Juni wanted ever penny ’counted fer.
REPORTER:
But, Miss Fanny, I seem to find a flaw in your … or Miss Juniper’s reasoning. I can kind of see where Miss Juniper would exclude the cost of your tickets from the reckoning, but I’m sitting here on the porch of your lovely and spacious home. Back in 1885, I’m guessing this would have cost Miss Juniper at least two thousand dollars. Yet, it is not shown on this ledger sheet.
FANNY:
Yer reas’nin an’ mine, be ’bout th’ same, young man. But I cain’t budge her nohow. She say, "This be our house. Not Thurston Flourney’s house."
REPORTER:
Well … this ledger obviously existed for its own purposes. There is a huge gap—a four-year gap—in the ledger between the cost of Miss Juniper’s stagecoach ticket and the next two—which are the last two—entries. You know what I’m going to ask, don’t you, Miss Fanny?
FANNY:
’Spect as how I do.
REPORTER:
Why, then … if Miss Juniper moved halfway across the United States for the sole purpose of murdering Thurston Flourney—and being driven by such unforgiving hate—why did she wait four … more … years before completing her mission?
FANNY:
Reckon as how we jes’ settled in, an’ I did everthin’—everthin’ I could to keep those rattlesnake eyes ’way from thinkin’ ’bout Thurston Flourney. An’ I think I did a might good job … ’cause deep down my Juni, she warn’t no killer.
(Shakes her head, eyes closed, lips pinched … and she continues slowly shaking her head for so long that the REPORTER looks up from his tablet)
You know … my Juni, she love goin’ to my shows. She tell me how proud she be o’ me … ’til she made me feel peacock proud o’ m’sef.
(Smiling, now, looking up with remembrance)
Oh, yes … right there in the front row, she was—she’s followin’ me with her eyes, smilin’-like. See, back then, I din’t have no rockin’ chair. I walk ’round the stage an’ even down ’mongst th’ tables. An’ al’es I be feelin’ Juni’s smilin’ eyes on me all warm like th’ sun.
REPORTER:
She seemed happy. You both seemed happy. Contented—in love.
FANNY:
Oh, we be in love. Ain’t never stopped bein’ in love. An’ my Juni be happy durin’ the show, an’ any time we’s together thinkin’ o’ each other. But …
(her mood palpably turns dark)
But when she be alone in that big ol’ bed—there ’aside me but alone in her black imaginin’s—she cain’t never be reached then.
REPORTER:
I’m sorry Miss Fanny. It seems it always came back to that … but there must have been one moment toward the end of that four years, one thing that … um … that forged her commitment so strong in her that you could never get her back.
(beat)
What was it that got her to put her advertisement in the Brady Sentinal?
(Pointing to ledger)
Here it is: $00.25, Sept. 5, 1889, ad in Brady City Sentinal. And the same day, beneath the revised balance you brought down, was the next, and final, entry in the ledger, $5.50, Sept. 5, 1889, purch. Derringer & am—I’m guessing am is ammunition.
FANNY:
Yes. It be Jerold … He be th’ one.
REPORTER:
Jer—excuse me, what?
FANNY:
Y’all wantin’ to know why she had th’ ad writ. An why she bought Li’l Liz. It be Jerold, th’ Pinkerton man.
(Watching the REPORTER’S face pull a baffled look)
He be the knowin’est, the sneakiest ’tective on this green earth. He tells my Juni thet Flourney has cancer … an thet, young man, be what lighted th’ final far.
[A train whistle moans in the distance. The REPORTER glances anxiously over his shoulder, then at FANNY.]
FANNY (Continues):
The story be finished anyways. Ain’t no more to tell. I already tells y’all ’bout th’ shootin’ o’ Thurston Flourney.
REPORTER:
Because Flourney’s dying of cancer wouldn’t be enough. I recall you said—I have it in my notes somewhere—that she needed to have witnesses that a judge couldn’t have in his pocket. That’s why she waited for a crowd to gather.
(Beat)
Miss Fanny … One last thing before my ride gets here.
(Holding up the ledger)
This sheet had been longer. Something was torn off the bottom. Were there other entries?
FANNY:
(Reaching out for the sheet)
Jes’ a po’m writ at th’ bottom.
REPORTER:
Oh … I’d love to read it. By You? Or Miss Juniper? Or—sure, it would’ve been by Elizabeth, wouldn’t it?
FANNY:
(With an impish grin)
Well … Reckon as how you’d have t’ see Tom Maples ’bout thet.
REPORTER:
Tom Ma—oh, yes, the editor of the Brady Sentinal.
FANNY:
An’ my onliest friend in these parts now as my Juni be gone. He has th’ po’m thet was torn off th’ ledger.
(Beat)
When God’s Angel be lookin’ fer me t’ take me t’ Glory—I hopes t’ Glory! —I needs be ready. So t' make sure I be ready … Tom Maples be in th’ receivin’ end o’ my las’ will an’ test’ment.
REPORTER:
He knows about those arrangements?
FANNY:
’Course he do. An’ he knows ’bout you, too. Thet y’all might as not be snoopin’ ’round fer y’all’s story. If he’s a mind to, he’ll be helpin’ y’all.
(Pointing)
Lookee …
[HERBIE’S voice from the street, OFFSTAGE LEFT]
HERBIE:
Y’all ready, Mr. Holmdahl? Th’ train be leavin’ in half n’hour.
REPORTER:
(Over his shoulder)
I’ll be there directly, Herbie.
(To FANNY)
Miss Fanny. This has been the event of my lifetime. I wish it didn’t have to end. May I—do you suppose I could give you a hug?
FANNY:
You think I’s lettin’ you get ’way without one?
(Struggles to rise from her rocker, then collapses back in it with a sudden painful grimace)
REPORTER:
Oh God! Herbie, you’d better get the doc!
FANNY:
(Loudly)
Don’ you dare, Herbie!
(To REPORTER)
I jes’ pull somethin’—these ol’ bones! Now, you jes’ bend on down heah.
REPORTER:
(Standing, bending down for an embrace)
I’ll never forget you, Miss Fanny.
(Pulls back after a hug and stares at FANNY, concerned)
Promise me you’ll see the doctor.
FANNY:
Yes. Yes. Now you skedaddle or yer gonna miss y’all’s train.
[The REPORTER gathers his things and exits STAGE LEFT, smiling back at her all the while]
FANNY (Continues):
(For a full minute, she sits in her rocker, alone, her eyes closed, her cheeks glistening. Then she opens her eyes and casts scattered glances right and left. Speaking in an audible whisper …)
Ohhh, I c’n feel y’all’re here. I c’n feel ya. Ohhhh, love ….
(A second Ohhhhh blends into an exhale that seems to go on forever as she lowers her chin to her chest, her lips part. Eyes stare at the floor)
[From STAGE LEFT, Juniper, clad in a wispy, white gown, slowly ascends the steps. STAGE LIGHT dims to a white mist and falls only on the two of them. Juniper’s face and hands glow with an inner luminescence; she stops, smiles down on Fanny, then kneels and rests her head gently in Fanny’s lap. After a long moment, STAGE LIGHT DIMS TO DARK]
CURTAIN
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