Previously in the book: Farmboy Harley Sadler had a wonderful career as a West Texas tent showman, making the farmers laugh and helping them financially too. All that did not keep Harley and his wife Billie from having their share of trouble and sorrows. In their old age they try to reclaim the fun with one last tour.
The next morning the actors assembled on stage for a read through of “Spit It Out, Sputters” under Sam’s direction. One of the actresses held up her hand to get his attention.
“I’ve read through this script several times trying to learn my lines,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “and I’m having a hard time with it. I have a brother who stutters, and it doesn’t seem funny to me.”
A couple of others murmured in agreement.
“Margery, this was funny thirty years ago,” Sam said, “and it’s still funny now.”
“But,” she persisted.
“You’ve gotten to know Harley Sadler pretty well in the last few weeks, haven’t you?” Sam asked.
“Yes, but—“
“What do you think of him?”
Her eyes widened. “Why he’s the dearest, sweetest old man I’ve ever met, but—“
“Do you think he’d ever make fun of somebody on the down and out?”
“Of course not—“
“Then wait ‘til you hear Harley say those lines. Sputters may have trouble talking but what he says is true. I know these lines could come out sounding mean but Harley will make people laugh, cry and cheer all at the time. It’s called acting. You should be taking notes instead of taking exception.”
“Yes, sir,” she said softly.
Sam cleared his throat. “Harley and Billie know these plays backwards and forwards so it’s your job to be up to speed when they come in. Billie’s pulling double duty with handling the books and Harley has extra duties too, so just keep your heads on your own business.”
Joe the producer walked down the aisle. “Is David here yet?”
“No, and it’s not fair to these people to show up for rehearsal on time and the hero is AWOL.” Sam pointed at the young actress he had just lectured. “Margery is on time and it’s obvious she’s been studying her script. How can she be the leading lady if her leading man isn’t here?”
Joe heard laughter behind him. David staggered through the tent flap. Joe could not believe what he saw. He rushed to the actor’s side. “Dave, have you been drinking this morning?”
“Why not? Our little Susie leading lady does.”
“Sshh!” Joe hissed.
All the actors on stage began whispering. Sam came down the aisle to confer with Joe. “I think you better keep him out of Harley’s sight. He’s already been complaining to me about David’s performance last night.”
“Well, when Harley shows up, tell him Dave’s got a cold or something. I’ll have him sobered up by this afternoon’s rehearsal.”
“A cold? Harley’s heard that one before.” Sam shook his head and walked back to the stage.
Joe grabbed David by the elbow to shove him outside. “Let’s go.”
Sam shook his head as they disappeared from the tent. “Okay. Let’s take it from the top and go as far as we can. Remember! Let’s troupe!”
Outside, Joe led David to his car. “Here, let me drive you back to the hotel.”
“Never mind about driving me,” David slurred as he bulled his way behind the wheel. “I can drive just fine!” He pretended he was driving, careening in and out of traffic, and then play-acted he was in a head-on collision. David started all over with his drunken performance, thinking he was hilarious–until he saw Harley standing behind Joe.
“This man is fired.” Harley’s voice was soft but harsh. He turned to storm away.
Joe ran after him. “Aww, Harley, the kid’s just—“
“A drunk.”
“But Harley—“
“He’s out.” He quickened his step.
The actors on stage froze in place when Harley marched down the aisle. They all tried to sound cheerful as they greeted him. Burnie called out from the quarter pole.
“Hey, Harley! I can still do the splits!”
His brother-in-law kept going, not acknowledging anyone until he mounted the stage and pointed at Sam. “You’re playing the hero in Sputters.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam replied and then turned to his cast. “You people are very lucky. I’ve played this role about as many times as Harley’s played Sputters.” He forced a laugh. “And no wisecracks about how I’m too old to be Margery’s boyfriend.”
Harley pushed through a curtain into the backstage area where Billie sat at the bookkeeper’s desk. She jumped and smiled nervously.
“Hello, dear.”
Harley ignored the fact her hand nervously went to her purse on the corner of the desk. He knew she had already been drinking that morning. Harley went straightaway to his dressing table and pulled a worn Bible from a drawer. Expertly opening it to the Book of Job, he moved a shaking finger over verses about terrible things happening to good people. He leaned back and soulfully searched the top of the tent.
“Vanity. All is vanity.”