AMBROSE But this isn't finished. The final act has just started. How can you leave before the crescendo?!
BRAND If you want a crescendo, you'd better get out there and cover it yourself. I am heading north. As fast as I can. Right now.
(exiting)
ESPERANZA And you stay gone, señor. I will lie for Señor Bierce, not for the likes of a dog like you.
(following him out, with other female voices rising behind the door)
ALBERT Ambrose, cousin, forget this nonsense. Gather your things and come with us, please!
AMBROSE Get going, Albert. Don't lose sight of Mr. Brand. You'll need each other out there.
Albert goes for both his--and Ambrose's--hat and coat. He throws Ambrose's clothing at him.
ALBERT You must leave too, Ambrose. It is why I came, and I won't...
Ambrose rises and begins to put on his hat and coat.
ALBERT (CONT.) Good. For a moment I thought you'd lost all reason.
AMBROSE Goodbye, Albert.
ALBERT What?
AMBROSE I said goodbye. Express my regards to your charming family...
ALBERT Ambrose, don't do this. Don't end like this.
(astounded)
AMBROSE My lineage ended long ago, Albert. My sons are dead. My oldest by his own hand. I would rather reunite with him suddenly on that great distant shore, than crawl home to wait pointlessly for a final gasp, and an empty eulogizing. Perhaps you were right... an unexpected miniball, a bullet obliterating me before God and all creation might just be preferable to the current alternatives. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a crescendo to meet.
ALBERT Old fool. You old fool.
AMBROSE This mission, as you call it, is all that I have left. Nothing else matters. I am leaving now.
(putting on his hat)
ALBERT But not with me.
AMBROSE But not with you.
ALBERT You would throw your life away.
AMBROSE It's mine to do with as I please.
ALBERT Where will you go?
AMBROSE Where ever I have to. Brand said something about Ojinaga... perhaps there.
ALBERT This isn't your war.
AMBROSE It is, however, my purpose, cousin. I ask not your approval, only your acceptance.
(putting on the long black coat)
ALBERT What about the bounty on your head? You'll face the gallows for certain now, like Brand said.
AMBROSE The gallows; a place for the performance of miracle plays in which the lead actor is translated into Heaven. Sounds strangely like a pulpit, preacher. You have yours. And I have mine.
(finishing getting dressed)
ALBERT All of a sudden you are again resolute in your utter stubbornness. And your last vision in life may be the blaze from a row of rifle muzzles.
AMBROSE The fire of my phoenix, cousin. Yes, suddenly I am reborn. Is that not for what you have prayed most fervently throughout your life?
ALBERT Not like this.
Albert places himself in the open doorway, blocking Ambrose.
AMBROSE Don't you stand in that door... unless you do so in making an overdue exit.
ALBERT I am bringing you home.
AMBROSE Betty Albert, I know there is at least one bullet left in this gun. If I were to conclude last night's little game of roulette here and now, I might just be sparing you the bayonet at the hands of Huerta's goons, which would make my shooting you down in cold blood an act of brotherly mercy.
(pulling out the revolver)
ALBERT I am no longer a child you can bully. You don't scare me anymore.
BRAND Come on, you two! I've got the horses, let's go!!
(offstage)
ALBERT Hang on, Mr. Brand! He's coming, just give us another minute!
(turning)
ESPERANZA You go now! I don't need you here! Vamos--you have to go!!
(offstage, with shouts of other female voices)
ALBERT Please, just one minute more! Mr. Brand, wait... I can persuade him! Give me just one more minute! Please!
During the above dialogue, Ambrose trains the gun at the back of Albert's head, then backs down. Replacing the gun in his waistband, he makes his exit out the open window and is gone.
ALBERT (CONT.) Ambrose, cousin... Ambrose! Ambrose!!
(turning back)
Albert rushes to the window and leans out, but sees no one. He pulls himself back in, stunned and bewildered.
ALBERT (CONT.) Ambrose.
ESPERANZA Señor Albert. You need to leave too now, listen to your... where did he go?
(re-entering)
ALBERT He disappeared... out the window. Mr. Brand! Mr. Brand!!
(rushing to door)
BRAND What's the matter, come on! Let's go!
(re-entering)
ALBERT He climbed out the window, he's outside!
BRAND C'mon, we'll head him off!
Brand and Albert race out. Esperanza watches them, shaking her head in disgust. A great commotion is heard outside, with horses whinnying and Albert and Brand yelling. Esperanza spies Ambrose's typewriter and stack of papers. She runs her hand over the typewriter, perhaps wondering what she could get for it on the market. She takes the papers and begins to sort through them. Brand and Albert re-enter, flustered.
BRAND (CONT.) Damn it! Goddamn it!
ALBERT Please, sir.
BRAND He took my horse! He rode off on my goddamn horse!
ALBERT We can follow him on mine.
BRAND You follow him! I'm skipping town. On what I don't know but I am getting the hell out of here.
ESPERANZA Señor Bierce's mule is in the stable.
(blandly)
BRAND A mule?
ESPERANZA Better than walking.
BRAND There are still two horses out there, ma'am.
ESPERANZA Not for sale! The mule or nothing.
ALBERT Come, Mr. Brand. I won't fight it any longer. I fear I must leave my cousin to his great mission, as foolish as I think it is. Let's leave.
BRAND We won't get far; two on a horse.
ALBERT We'll take the mule.
BRAND I am not riding that damned mule!
ALBERT I will. You take my horse, and I am holding you to your word not to leave me behind in the dust! Agreed?
BRAND We'll have to be as quiet as Comanches. But alright, agreed.
(thinks a minute, then pumps Albert's hand and exits)
Albert turns for the door to follow Brand out. Esperanza stops him.
ESPERANZA You are leaving your hermano, Señor Albert?
ALBERT Yes, Miss Del Monte. I did all I could to persuade him. He is a frustrating... infuriating, mutinous old pirate...
ESPERANZA I see.
ALBERT And I will likely never see him again.
ESPERANZA At least you saw him, even if there's no next time.
ALBERT I'm sorry?
ESPERANZA You trust God to guide you, señor. You prayed before you came here. Yes?
ALBERT Ma'am?
ESPERANZA You prayed to find your cousin alive.
ALBERT Yes... I did. And I did find him alive.
ESPERANZA God gave that to you, hermano Albert. But no one is ours to keep forever. Your cousin is his own man. Tome qué Dios ha otorgado y es alegre, padre.
ALBERT What does that mean, Miss Esperanza?
ESPERANZA It's just something I learned when I was a girl.
ALBERT In church, I suppose?
(a half grin)
ESPERANZA That's right. In church.
(returning the grin)
ALBERT Yes, well... good day to you, Madame.
BRAND Come on, Reverend, it's time we disappeared, too.
(re-entering, agitated)
ALBERT When I say 'Madame,' I assure you I mean that in the wholesome, Christian sense.
ESPERANZA Of course you do, padre.
(holding her hand out for him to shake)
ALBERT Gracias. I'm ready, Mr. Brand.
(taking her hand, kissing it lightly)
ESPERANZA Wait. Shouldn't you take these?
(holding out the papers)
BRAND Take what?
ESPERANZA Señor Bierce's writing. He wanted you to take it, no?
ALBERT We should, Mr. Brand.
BRAND Well... yes, we should. Si, Miss Esperanza.
(apprehensive)
Brand accepts the papers. He looks dolefully at Albert, rolling them and putting them in his coat pocket.
BRAND (CONT.) I'm sure Hearst will want to see this. Ambrose is one of the best writers... I ever knew. Come on, let's go.
Albert and Brand exit. Esperanza stays in the room, watching them through the open door. She then walks silently to the typewriter and sits down before it. She gazes a moment at the shiny keys, then gently pushes the cartridge until the typewriter's bell tings.
LIGHTS SLOWLY DOWN.
SPOT SLOWLY UP ON WILLIAM BRAND, talking on a phone appropriate to the period. He is phoning in his story to the Examiner.
BRAND (CONT.) And with Villa again at large in the Mexican countryside, General Huerta's hopes for a resolution to this great, dread episode, and a return to peace, seem again just out of reach. All eyes north now look anxiously to the White House, and the pen of President Wilson, should Gulf trade routes be threatened by war. 'Thirty' it there, Herbert. No, there won't be a follow up, I'm on my way in.
Brand pauses, then speaks back into the phone.
BRAND (CONT.) No, wait a minute. Paper still in the machine? Good. Sidebar. Former Examiner columnist, war journalist, poet, author, iconoclast... and horse thief, Ambrose Bierce vanished without a trace into the hills of Mexico, in the first days of 1914... Yes, Herbert, THAT Ambrose Bierce... He was never seen or heard from again. Rumors of his whereabouts, and of his demise, will likely travel north for many years to come. When last seen by any witnesses, he was riding toward the Battlefield of Ojinaga, with great purpose in his eyes, against the wind. What? Yes, I know this isn't style, Herbert... just type. Bierce's writings will live on. His short stories, his wry verse, his Civil War journals and his most memorable work, that notorious volume of lacerating satire, The Devil's Dictionary; all will be studied and revered by as yet unborn generations. He was one of an amazing group of literati; Stephan Crane, Nathaniel Hawthorn, Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Louis Stevenson, and Mark Twain, of whom many believed Bierce to be a sardonic alter ego. His friend Jack London remains; the last peer to mourn his absence and perceived passing. How Ambrose died, can only be speculated upon. He will become legend. Like the biblical Enoch, who never slumbered between this world and the hereafter. There is no headstone with his name upon it. His epitaph will never be finished... a work in progress. Now he can only be said to ride the night, onward, having finally caught up with Old Patch.
SPOT DOWN on Brand.
SPOT UP on Ambrose, in his black coat and hat, staring at the audience.
AMBROSE By Abracadabra we signify
and infinite number of things.
'Tis the answer to What? And How? And Why?
And Whence? And Whither? A word whereby
The Truth, with the comfort it brings
Is open to all who grope in night,
Crying for Wisdom's holy light.
Whether 'tis a verb or a noun
Is knowledge beyond my reach.
I only know 'tis handed down
From sage to sage,
From age to age,
An immortal part of speech.
Of an ancient man the tale is told
That he lived to be ten centuries old,
In a cave on a mountain side.
True, he finally died.
The fame of his wisdom filled the land,
For his head was bald and you'll understand
His beard was long and white
And his eyes uncommonly bright.
Philosophers gathered from far and near
To sit at his feet and hear
Though he never was heard
To utter a word
But Abracadabra, Abracadab.
Abraca Abra, Abra Ab.
'Twas all he had,
'Twas all they wanted to hear, and each
Made copious notes of the mystical speech,
Which they published next,
A trickle of text,
In a meadow of commentary.
Mighty big books were these,
In number as leaves of trees,
In learning, remarkable, very!
He's dead,
As I said,
And the books of the sages have perished,
But his wisdom is sacredly cherished.
In Abracadabra it solemnly rings,
Like an ancient bell that forever swings.
O' I love to hear
That word make clear
Humanity's General Sense of Things.
Ambrose gently tips his hat farewell as we bring ALL LIGHTS DOWN.
THE END
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