Cowboy For Hire (2 page)

“Her?” he asked dubiously.

“Her.” Huxtable ran his fingers across his
natty mustache. “I want her.”

Martin didn’t like that sound of this. “Has
she any experience?”

“Not the kind you mean. Probably not the kind
I mean, either.” His chuckle rumbled out, an oily blot on the soft,
sweet-smelling Pasadena air.

Deciding a firm hand was needed her, Martin
said, “Now see here, Huxtable. You can’t go about the country
deflowering virgins. We have a picture to shot, and Mr. Lovejoy is
planning on making it the biggest and best one yet. Four reels, for
heaven’s sake. This picture will make Peerless Studio a name to be
reckoned with in the industry. It’s an expensive project, and we
need a cast of professionals to act in it. I can’t hire just
anybody.”

“You hired that cowboy.”

“That’s different. The public is clamoring
for cowboy pictures and more cowboy pictures, and all the studios
are using real cowboys nowadays. They add authenticity, and the
movie-going public love it.”

“Pshaw. Let me have that tidy bundle, and
I’ll give you all the authenticity you want.”

The next time his studio head, Phineas
Lovejoy, wanted to hire Horace Huxtable to act in a moving picture,
Martin was going to object with all the energy in his body. He
didn’t care to have
pimp
added to his already overfull list
of responsibilities at the studio.”

“What about Ginny Mae Williams?”

Huxtable made a rude noise which Martin
correctly interpreted as an objection.

“Mabel Gresham?” Another noise, ruder this
time.

“Wilma Patecky?”

“Good God, man! What do you think I am?”

A sot, a reprobate, and a debauched
cad,
thought Martin instantly. He said, “You’re a fine actor,
Huxtable, and one with a loyal following.” Otherwise, Peerless
wouldn’t have anything to do with him.

“You’re damned right I am. I have instincts.”
He pounded his fist on the table. “And I know a good screen
presence when I see one. I want
her
.”

“Very well.” Martin resigned himself to
tackle an unpleasant task. “I’ll speak to her.”

“You’ll do more than speak to her. You’ll
hire her.”

Irritated, Martin said, “I’ll do my
best.”

“You’ll succeed,” Huxtable said complacently.
“What girl wouldn’t leap at the chance to act in a motion picture
with Horace Huxtable?”

Any girl who possesses half a brain
.
Martin said, “Right, I’ll talk to her now.” He got up to leave, but
thought it wouldn’t hurt to give Huxtable a gentle warning. Actors
and their exalted emotions and lofty opinions of themselves were a
pain in the neck, but as Phineas had pointed out to Martin more
than once, one had to pamper the blockheads. However, a hint
wouldn’t hurt.

He looked down at the Peerless star, who was
preening himself. “Remember, Huxtable, the studio is paying for
your stay here because we want you sober for the shooting. If you
don’t do your best in this picture, which will be the biggest, most
expensive one made to date by any studio in the entire world, the
chances are good that your reputation as a reliable actor will be
ruined beyond recovery. You’ve had plenty of chances, and won’t be
given another.”

Huxtable drew himself up as if Martin’s words
had mortally offended him. “Don’t you talk to
me
like that,
you impudent pup!”

Martin’s temper snapped. “It’s about time
somebody did, because it’s the truth. You aren’t going to be able
to live on your looks much longer. You’re not only getting older,
but you’re ruining yourself with your drinking. If you must know
the truth, you’re beginning to look mighty liverish. Keep drinking
orange juice, old man. It might just save your career.”

Since he’d been associated with theatrics
long enough to recognize a good exit line when he said one, Martin
turned on his heels and walked toward the girl, leaving Huxtable in
his chair, sputtering angrily.

* * *

If Amy Wilkes possessed a single defining
personality trait, it was sensibleness. She’d learned long ago that
the only way to get on in life was to make sensible plans and stick
to them no matter what obstacles people threw in her way.

At the tender age of seven, she’d lost her
parents, a tragedy that had precipitated her descent into such a
cauldron of grief, terror, and pain that she’d never forgotten it.
She aimed never to experience such a catastrophe again and had made
it a guiding principle never to allow insecurity so much as a
toehold in her life.

Her gratitude toward her uncle Frank and aunt
Julia was boundless. They’d taken her in when they’d learned of the
dire straits into which she’d fallen, and loved her as if she’d
been their own child.

For years now, Amy had been working for her
aunt and uncle, starting during her summer vacations from school.
Now she worked for them year-round. She enjoyed the work, although
she didn’t anticipate being employed at the Orange Rest Health Spa
forever. She was only twenty years old, but already she’d
experienced happiness and sadness, security and insecurity, and had
been forced to put aside a child’s rose-colored glasses and view
the world as it was.

Amy had as many dreams for her future as any
other young, modern woman, although her dreams might be considered
by more romantic young women as awfully dull. And even Amy had to
admit that her dreams weren’t outrageous. She didn’t long to become
a hot-air balloonist, for instance. Nor did she want to conquer
Mount Everest or swim the English Channel or join Buffalo Bill’s
Wild West show.

Her dreams were much more reasonable than
that. In fact, some people might call them prosaic. They didn’t
seem prosaic to Amy. They seemed golden, probably because her own
family life with her mother and father had been cut so tragically
short.

But she knew one thing for certain: Someday
she was going to have a home and family of her own. That was all,
the extent of her most precious and idyllic hopes for her future.
Her friends thought she was remarkably shortsighted, but Amy knew
what it was to lose life’s most priceless gifts; she knew what was
important in life and what was mere window dressing.

She even had a young man, Vernon Catesby, who
appeared at this time to be the most likely means for Amy to
achieve her dream. If he was the least bit stuffy, Amy didn’t mind.
She craved security. Predictability and security, to her at least,
went hand in hand, and Vernon was nothing if not predictable.

At this particular moment, however, Amy
wasn’t contemplating her life’s dream or Vernon Catesby. No. At
this moment, she and Martin Tafft were seated in the snug lounge of
the Orange Rest Health Spa, and Amy was staring at him thinking he
didn’t fit into her dream-achieving pattern one tiny little
trifling iota of an atom. In fact, she believed she’d misunderstood
him and wondered if she could possibly be going deaf. Admittedly,
she was rather young for that, but she couldn’t conceive of what
she’d heard any other way.

The lounge at the Orange Rest was furnished
in a South Seas style with palm trees, Hawaiian prints on the sofa
cushions, and woven grass matting on the floor. The afternoon heat
had driven most of the inmates to their rooms, where electric fans
added a modicum of comfort to the still air. This room, which was
shaded by a row of stately pepper trees, was fairly
comfortable.

With her hands folded modestly and resting on
the table between herself and Martin, Amy stared at him,
dumbfounded, unable to believe what her ears had just heard. She
scarcely found the wit to say, “I beg your pardon?”

Martin repeated himself patiently and added,
“I understand why you might be surprised, Miss Wilkes. After all,
it isn’t every day a young woman with no prior acting experience is
invited to play a principal part in a motion picture opposite a
famous star of stage and screen.”

Unable to think of anything to say, Amy
nodded.

“Mr. Huxtable would like you to act as his
leading lady in the Peerless Studio’s next production.” Martin
smiled pleasantly. “It’s an ambitious prospect. Four whole reels,
and it will take probably three weeks or more to shoot.”

This was another surprise for Amy, because
Martin’s time scheme contradicted articles she’d read in newspapers
and periodicals. She blurted out, “I thought people made moving
pictures in a day or two.”

Martin shook his head. “Not this one. This
one’s big. Mr. Lovejoy is counting on it to secure the studio’s
reputation. After this one is seen, when the public thinks of
moving pictures, they’ll think Vitagraph, Biograph, and Peerless,
and of the three, only Peerless will be out here on the West Coast,
where the sun shines year-round and pictures can be made in the
dead of winter if they need to be.”

“Oh.”

Warming to his theme, Martin went on. “This
picture will be what we’re calling a ‘feature’. It’s a new term,
and it’s going to take off like wildfire. Folks will flock to the
theaters to see featured motion pictures along with a one-reel
short or two.”

“Theaters?” Amy’s voice had dropped and was
very small.

Martin nodded. “Oh, yes. Folks are building
special theaters for moving pictures these days.”

“Oh.”

Amy noticed that Martin’s eyes sparkled, and
she thought it was nice that he enjoyed his work. But—act in a
movie? Amy Wilkes? From Pasadena, California? She couldn’t imagine
herself doing anything so … so … so … bizarre. Amy craved
continuity, not out-of-the-wayness.

She also couldn’t feature her young gentleman
banker friend Vernon Catesby, who had been paying her particular
attentions of late, approving of this venture. She didn’t approve,
herself, if it came to that.

Martin went on. “It’s a western picture, and
it’ll be called
One and Only
. Cowboys are very popular these
days.”

“
One and Only,”
Amy said dully. “But
why me?”

“Why not you?” He gave her a charming smile
that Amy would bet a dozen of her uncle’s oranges he’d practiced in
front of a mirror, rather as Mr. Huxtable had practiced his sneer.
“You’re a lovely young woman. This will be a tremendous opportunity
for you.”

Glancing through the window to the patio, Amy
spotted Horace Huxtable still there, the only inmate remaining
outdoors, sprawled, glaring gloomily at his empty orange juice
glass. “What kind of opportunity?”

“Why, to get in on the ground floor of a
brand-new venture, to make money doing something enjoyable, and to
see a little of the way in which motion pictures are made. Most of
the industry is still located back East with Mr. Edison, but the
Peerless Studio is at the forefront of Western production.”

“Oh.”

“Absolutely! Why, simply take a look around.
We here in Southern California have wonderful weather and grand
locations. The sun shines everywhere, all the time! Especially now
when the public fascination with cowboys is at its peak, why should
movies be filmed in New York? It makes no sense.”

“Oh.”

“So you see, you’ll be getting in at the
beginning of a major innovation in a brand-new industry! And if you
do well, you’ll certainly get more work. You might even catch the
public’s fancy and become a star. There are monumental
opportunities for money and fame in the movie business, Miss
Wilkes.”

Mercy sakes, wouldn’t Vernon pitch a fit if
she became a famous motion picture actress.

She shook her head to dislodge the notion.
This was getting silly. She sat up straight and frowned slightly.
“I’ve never been interested in fame, Mr. Tafft. I think it would be
awful to be recognized by strangers on the street. And I don’t want
to make money if it means sacrificing my morals.”

“Sacrificing your morals?” Martin Tafft
looked positively shocked.

Amy, feeling uncomfortable, said, “Well, I’ve
read things.”

“Tosh. Miss Wilkes, the articles you’ve read
have painted a faulty picture, if that’s what you think. Why, the
movies are supremely moral.”

“They are?”

“They are. Why, they’re going to break down
barriers between nations!”

“They are?”

“Absolutely! They’re going to help us
understand that we’re all part of God’s family. Nations will be
able to view the way people in other nations live. They’ll come to
understand that people are alike the world over.”

“Mercy.”

“Pictures are marvelous! They’re
entertainment for the entire family. They promote community values
and family togetherness.”

“They do?”

“Of course! Why, fathers will be going to the
movies with their families on Sunday afternoons instead of heading
into pool palaces and gin mills! Pictures will be the salvation of
our great country!”

“I … ah … hadn’t heard that.” She would,
however, keep these arguments in mind should she need them when
discussing this opportunity with Vernon.

Martin huffed. “You never need fear for the
moral tone of a Peerless picture, Miss Wilkes. In fact, do you
realize that when Peerless made a moving picture of
The Scarlet
Letter
, Mr. Lovejoy made sure that Hester and Mr. Dimmesdale
were married?”

Amy blinked, trying to take it in. “But—what
was the story about, if they were a married couple? I mean, wasn’t
the whole plot—” She broke off, embarrassed to be talking about
illegitimate children, adultery, and so forth with a stranger.

Martin waved her question away. “But, you
see, don’t you, that Peerless deals in nothing but material of the
highest moral caliber.”

Again peering through the window and taking
in the spectacle of Horace Huxtable slouched at his table, Amy
shook her head. “I’m sure Mr. Lovejoy’s morals are of the highest
caliber, but I don’t care to be corrupted by anyone whose morals
don’t match his.”