Miner's Daughter (12 page)

After the jacket debacle, she’d had dinner
with him at the Mojave Inn. Fortunately, Mrs. Nelson had offered
chicken and dumplings on the menu last night, so at least they
could cut the meat. It actually hadn’t tasted half bad. The Nelsons
bought their chickens from Mari, which supplemented her meager
income, and she’d had an illogical sense of satisfaction to know
that Tony Ewing was helping to support her, even in this little way
and without knowing it.

More surprising, she’d enjoyed herself. Every
time she remembered the evening, a shock of amazement smote her.
Imagine, enjoying herself in Tony Ewing’s company. It didn’t make
any sense. Especially since they’d spent most of the evening taking
verbal swipes at each other. She grinned now, recalling the various
strikes and parries each had executed. She’d had a hard time
getting to sleep afterward, because her senses had been zinging
from the stimulation of the evening’s conversation.

The throb of a motorcar in the distance
jogged her thoughts and propelled her to turn and look again.
Finally. A car was coming, all right. Mari wondered if it contained
Tony Ewing.

Exasperated, she told herself to get her
fancies under control. She hated when she entertained useless
daydreams, because they only led her to be dissatisfied with her
life. And, since there wasn’t much she could do about it, she’d
decided long since that she didn’t need the aggravation of
unfulfilled daydreams plaguing her.

Most of the actors playing miners rose from
their camp chairs and squinted into the distance. Mari asked the
young man who’d spoken to her, “Is it the director?”

He shaded his eyes and peered off into the
distance, reminding Mari of a big-game hunter on the African veldt
surveying the bush for lions.

Ack. There went her imagination again. She
gave herself a mental smack on the back of the head to capture her
attention.

“I can’t tell,” her companion said after a
moment or two of observation. “Probably.”

“Too bad he’s late,” she offered, hoping it
would make him feel better to know someone else disapproved of the
director’s rudeness.

“I’ll say It’s too hot to play these
games.”

These games? Whatever did the young fellow
mean? Mari didn’t ask, supposing the reference to “games” pertained
to the pictures. Although she really didn’t care a whole lot, she’d
as soon not broadcast her ignorance to the world. She offered a
neutral grunt, and hoped the young man would consider her to be on
his side.

“By Jupiter, it’s not the director. It’s
Martin!” the young man cried.

Mari got up and peered at the motorcar, too.
“Weren’t you expecting him?”

“Oh, sure, but not today. I thought he was
going to drive to L.A. and get some costumes for the leading
lady.”

L.A.? The leading lady? That was her! Oh, my.
Mari’s heart sped up. “Um, what’s L.A.?” she asked, because she was
curious.

“L.A.?” The young man turned and looked at
her as if he believed her to be joshing him

She wasn’t. Rather stiffly, she said, “I’ve
never heard of it.”

He laughed. Mari didn’t find anything amusing
about not knowing something, and she deplored people who ridiculed
other people’s ignorance. Before she could say so, the young man
said, “It’s short for Los Angeles. That’s what all the picture
folks call it.”

“Oh.” L.A. Los Angeles. That made sense.

The car rumbled onto the plot of land that
had been marked off as the Peerless set, and the actors began
ambling over to talk to Martin. Mari discounted as a touch of
indigestion the stab of disappointment that struck her when she saw
Tony wasn’t with him.

She’d never been troubled by indigestion in
her life.

Something was wrong with the picture, though
She heard a couple of “Sorrys” and one or two “That’s too bad,” as
she approached Martin. He saw her, and she thought she saw relief
enter his eyes. “Oh, good. I’m so glad you’re here, Miss
Pottersby.”

He was? How nice of him to say so. “What’s
the matter, Mr. Tafft?”

This time she heard several people exclaim,
“Mr. Tafft?” as if they’d never heard his name before. She glanced
around, frowning.

Martin gently took her arm. “Don’t pay any
attention, Miss Pottersby. Everyone calls me Martin. Picture making
is pretty casual. In fact, I’d be pleased if you’d call me
Martin.”

“Oh. Sure. Everybody calls me Mari.” In fact,
except for the Peerless people, nobody ever called her Miss
Pottersby.

He gifted her with a broad smile. He had a
really nice smile. He was a mighty good-looking man, actually. Mari
couldn’t figure out why he, who was nice and polite and exuded
gentlemanliness, should leave her unmoved, while Tony Ewing, who
was rude and impolite and exuded sarcasm, made her want to leap on
him and kiss him to within an inch of his life.

Oh, dear.

“Thanks, Mari,” Martin said. “Say, we’ve had
a disaster this morning.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” Her heart plummeted.
Could something have happened to Tony? Food poisoning, maybe?
Terror gripped her momentarily.

“Yes, it’s a pain in the neck.”

Hmmm. That didn’t sound too bad. If Tony had
died, surely Martin would have been more upset than this. “Oh?”

“Our director, John Gilman, has taken sick. I
don’t know what’s the matter. He was fine yesterday. Today he’s
sick as a dog.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. Do you need the name
of a doctor?”

“Mrs. Nelson got the doctor for us, thanks.
But now it looks as though I’m going to have to take over the
direction of this picture.”

“Oh.” Mari had no idea on earth what a
director did or didn’t do in connection with a motion picture. “Is
that a problem for you?”

Martin heaved a big sigh “I guess I can
handle it. But it means I’ll have to spend all my time here, and
won’t be able to do other things I’m supposed to do. Which brings
me to you.” He smiled again, winningly.

Mari felt her heart, which had calmed down
considerably since she and Martin had begun talking, speed up
again. “Me?” She pointed to her chest.

“I’m afraid so. Say, Mari, would you be able
to go to Los Angeles with Tony today? I was going to go myself and
bring the costumes back to the set, but now I’m going to be stuck
here. Since Tony’s never dealt with costuming before, I think it
would be easier on everyone if you were to go with him

“Go with him? To Los Angeles? Me?” Mari
decided she was babbling and shut her mouth. After swallowing,
licking her lips, and taking a deep breath, she tried again. “I’m
sorry, Martin. But . . . you want me to go to Los Angeles with Mr.
Ewing? For costumes?”

“I’m really sorry about this, Mari.” He
looked as though he meant his apology sincerely. “It’s only that
Tony’s so new at this.”

“And I’m not?” She tried not to sound as
bewildered as she felt.

His quick grin reassured her “Sure, I know
you’re new to the pictures, too, but you’d be doing me a big favor
if you’d go with him. That way, you can try on anything that needs
to be tried on. If alterations have to be made, we’ll know right
away. I spoke to the costumer on the telephone a couple of weeks
ago—as soon as we knew you’d be playing the part, in fact—and I’m
sure she’s got everything under control, but . . .” He gazed at her
pleadingly.

“And you think if I go with him, there won’t
need to be alterations?” Mari wasn’t sure about this, since most of
her clothes came to her secondhand, but there seemed to be
something slightly askew with Martin’s reasoning here.

“What I meant was that, since Tony doesn’t
have my experience, he won’t know, without you there, if things
need to be altered. I’ve done this so many times, I’m pretty good
at judging fits without the actors there.”

“Oh. Yes, I see.”

His eyes took on a pleading cast, not unlike
Tiny’s eyes when he was longing for something he couldn’t reach.
Which didn’t happen often. “So, can you do it?”

Mari swallowed again. “Um, sure. I guess I
can go.” Whatever would she do with Tiny? “How will we get
there?”

“Tony’s machine “

Mari didn’t know much about the sophisticated
life, but she knew that a “machine” was a motorcar. “He has
one?”

“Sure. It’s big and comfortable, too, so at
least you won’t be bumping around in a horse-drawn cart or
anything.” He laughed his friendly laugh.

Los Angeles. Mari had never even dreamed
about traveling all the way to Los Angeles. Why, it was miles and
miles away. It was, by her standards, a big city. A metropolis,
even. Mari felt like a yokel when she ventured as far as San
Bernardino. She couldn’t imagine how she’d feel in Los Angeles—and
with Tony Ewing. It sounded scary.

“Um, well . . .”

“Please? You’d be doing me a tremendous
favor.” Martin seemed to think of something and added brightly,
“Say, I know you weren’t expecting to have to travel in connection
with your employment for Peerless. How about I tack on another
hundred dollars if you make the trip?”

Another hundred dollars? Mari couldn’t
conceive of a person’s having the financial wherewithal to fling a
hundred dollars around for no better reason than because another
person had to take a trip to Los Angeles.

She flapped her hand in the air, feeling
stupid and greedy. “There’s no need for that. You’re paying me
plenty already.”

“Nonsense. I know you can use the money, and
I’m asking a big favor. Please accept the money.”

Bother. She sure could use the money. For a
moment or two her pride fought with her needs. Eventually pride
lost. “Well . . . okay, I guess. But you really don’t need to do
that. I don’t mind going to Los Angeles.” Or, if she were to speak
the language of the movies, L.A. A tiny bubble of excitement caught
up with the ache of fear in her chest.

A motor trip to a fairly big city. With Tony
Ewing, the most handsome, albeit the most aggravating, man she’d
ever met. Scary, indeed. And very, very intriguing.

“That’s swell.” Martin’s smile seemed less
forced, and Mari could tell he was relieved that she’d capitulated.
She felt kind of guilty about worrying him. “Tony will be here as
soon as the doctor sees John. Can you be ready to leave today?”

“Today?” Good heavens. “Um, sure. I don’t
know why not.” Except for Tiny. She gasped when she remembered her
dog. “Oh!”

“What’s the matter?” Martin started looking
worried again

She felt silly. How could she forget Tiny?
“Um, I forgot about my dog. I don’t suppose I can take him with
me?”

From the look on Martin’s face, she knew she
couldn’t. She hoped this wasn’t going to prevent the trip to LA.
All of a sudden she really wanted to go.

“I’ll be glad to feed him for you.”

He wouldn’t be glad, and Mari knew it from
the tone of his voice. He was such a nice man. To make him less
sorry he’d offered, she said, “You can keep the hundred bucks if
you take care of him.” What the heck. A hundred here, a hundred
there. What was it to Mari?

She couldn’t believe she’d actually thought
that. A hundred dollars to Mari Pottersby was akin to a million to
Tony Ewing. But, since she’d yet to see a single penny of Peerless
money, it felt sort of like throwing confetti around or making
deals with play money.

“Don’t be silly, Mari. I’ll be happy to feed
Tiny for you. I’ll even take him for a walk, if he needs it. And
you deserve the money. You’re being asked to do way more than the
contract calls for.”

She eyed Martin for a long moment. “Um, you
don’t need to walk him. He can walk himself if you open the
door.”

“Do you think he’d run away if I didn’t go
with him?” Martin looked worried.

Mari sighed. Where would he run to? There was
nothing around here. “Oh, no. He always comes back.” Often with a
jackrabbit carcass carried proudly in his huge jaws. Mari decided
Martin didn’t need to know that much. City folks made a big to-do
over the jackrabbits, but they were really only pests. Mari
approved of her dog’s willingness to eliminate vermin.

“Good. I’d never forgive myself if I lost
your dog.”

How sweet. Mari smiled at him. “Well, then.”
She knew she was going to accept. She didn’t know why she was even
pretending to hesitate.

Martin said, as if trying to persuade her,
“It will only take a day. It takes several hours to get there, and
you’ll be an hour or so at the costumer’s place, and then you can
turn around and come right back.”

She nodded. That’s what she’d feared. She’d
be going to a real city for the first time in her life, and she
wouldn’t even get to see it. She sighed “Sure, I’ll do it.”

“Great. That’s great. Thanks, Mari.

“Sure, Martin. No problem.”

The rumble of a distant motor propelled them
both to turn around and investigate. Another motorcar, followed by
a gigantic plume of dust, headed toward the Marigold Mine.

Martin shaded his eyes. “That must be
Tony.”

And there, in a nutshell, was Mari’s problem
Darn it.

Tony waited impatiently for Mari Pottersby to
hug her outrageous dog and join him in the motorcar. He frowned at
the pair, which he could scarcely discern in the gloom of the
cabin, unable to understand the bond between them. It seemed silly
for a young woman as pretty and sprightly as Mari to bestow all of
her affection on a dumb animal.

He could not, therefore, account for the
yearning that attacked him at odd moments to rush out and buy
himself a dog. A big dog. A friendly dog. A dog to walk with and
talk to. A companion. A loyal friend. Perhaps a Great Dane.

Damn it, this was stupid. He called out, “Are
you ready yet?” The internal disruption he was feeling crept into
his voice as a nasty note.