Miner's Daughter (14 page)

She told herself there was no reason to be
nervous. Just because she was alone in the middle of nothing with
the most attractive man she’d ever met was no reason to fall into a
dither.

Tony cleared his throat, and Mari jumped a
foot. “So, Miss Pottersby, I don’t suppose you’d consider calling
me Tony. I think we’ve known each other for long enough that it
wouldn’t be considered improper.”

She stared at him, then swallowed. “Oh. Sure.
I guess that’s okay.” Darn it, she could feel heat creeping up the
back of her neck, and she knew she was going to be blushing in a
second. Hoping he wouldn’t notice, she turned her head and looked
out the window. “Call me Mari.”

“Thank you Mari.”

She liked the way her name came out of his
mouth. Probably because he had such a nice mouth. He also had a
great voice. Deep, smooth, kind of velvety. He had a caressing sort
of voice.

Good Lord, wherever had that thought sprung
from? She prayed hard for something interesting to tiptoe onto the
scene. Something that would distract them both. Something -

“My God!”

Mari jerked around, and found Tony staring
out his own window and jamming his foot on the brake. She looked,
too, and gasped.

“Merciful saints in heaven! What in the name
of glory is happening?”

A swarm of mounted Indians, bedecked with war
paint and feathers, had just galloped over a rise in the near
distance on Tony’s side. Mari gaped at the scene, her brain trying
to assimilate this odd intrusion of somebody else’s history into
her own personal world.

Tony, staring hard, didn’t answer
immediately. After a moment, he seemed to relax. “I think I know
what it is.”

“You do?” Darn it, he wasn’t supposed to know
anything about her native California. He was a blasted easterner.
“Then please let me in on it.” Her voice was as dry as the desert
outside the car.

“I think it’s another motion-picture
operation.”

Mari blinked, thought for several tumultuous
seconds, and said, “Oh.”

“I heard Biograph was sending a company out
here to do a picture. There’s a fellow named DeMille who’s been
horning into the scene, too.”

“Oh. My goodness. I, ah, hadn’t realized that
people were doing so many pictures in the area.”

He turned and gave her a rather sardonic
smile. “Peerless was the first to recognize Southern California as
ideal for the picture-making process, but I don’t suppose the
others will be left behind for very long.” He gestured at the
whooping band of Indians. “As you can see.”

“Yes. I see.”

Sure enough, as they watched, a motorized
truck, with a cameraman cranking energetically at his machine in
the back, rolled over the rise, following the Indians. Tony shook
his head. “It’ll never work.”

She gazed curiously at the scene, then again
at Tony. “Why not?”

He shook his head. “Landscape’s too bumpy.
The image will be all over the place. There’s no way you can shoot
a moving target from a moving vehicle and get a clear picture.”

“That makes sense. Why do you suppose they’re
doing it?”

“If it’s Edison and his gang, they’re
probably experimenting with a newfangled spring-mounted camera or
something. They’re willing to try anything.”

“I guess that’s a good thing,” she said
doubtfully.

“Oh, yeah, it’s a good thing. For Edison. The
bastard’s—sorry, Mari—the buzzard’s such a tyrant and so
single-minded and exclusive, that nobody else will ever profit from
his inventions, though.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, yeah. He won’t let anybody or anything
leak out of his studios back east. Anything he discovers will
remain his exclusive property. He keeps the patents on anything his
employees invent, too. If anyone leaves his company, he has to sign
a pledge in blood not to use any of the products of his imagination
that Edison’s patented. I don’t know what the penalty is. Death, I
suppose.”

“That’s pretty drastic.”

“I’m joking about the death part, but not
about anything else. Edison’s a real pip.”

Mari thought about it as she watched the
Indians. They’d stopped whooping and racing, had pulled up their
ponies, and milled about in the dust, waiting for the truck to
reach them. Now that they were closer, Mari perceived that they
didn’t look much like any Indians she’d seen pictured in books.
They looked more like white folks painted up to look like
Indians.

“Well,” she mused, “I guess if I were Edison,
I’d want to keep close tabs on my inventions, too. And if he’s
paying those guys to invent for him, I suppose he has a right to
their inventions. At least . . . well, I don’t know.” The notion of
inventions and rights to creative ideas was a new one to her, and
she had no clear opinion on the issue.

“I’m sure I would, too,” Tony agreed. “But
his protectionism is going to turn around and bite him on the butt
one of these days.”

She glanced at him, sure she shouldn’t want
to giggle at his choice of words but finding them funny anyway.
“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “He’s got everybody annoyed with
him. I mean, he’s not just protecting himself. He goes after
everyone else’s ideas like some kind of octopus. He snatches
anything he can get, patents it, and calls it his own. One of these
days, he’ll get his.” He grinned at her. “At least, I hope to
blazes he will.”

She considered for a moment then grinned
back. “Can’t say as I blame you.”

They started up again. Mari watched through
the back window until the Indians and the truck and the camera were
out of sight, wondering about the intricacies of making a motion
picture. It hadn’t occurred to her that filming from a moving
vehicle might not work, although it made sense now that she thought
about it. There was a whole lot to this picture-making stuff that
she didn’t know beans about. She wondered if Tony knew any more
than she did.

“Um, so, did you study the industry before
you came out here to help Martin with this picture?” she asked
after the Indians faded into the desert behind her.

“Oh, yes. I studied a lot about it.” He
frowned. “Can’t say that I had much interest initially, but when my
father decided to invest in this picture and asked me to travel out
here to watch over his investment, I learned as much as I
could.”

“It’s all so new It must be sort of fun to be
in at the beginning of a new industry.” Was that a dumb thing to
have said? Too late not to say it now.

Tony’s eyes thinned, and he looked sort of
like he was frowning. It wasn’t one of the kinds of frowns he
directed at her when she irked him, so Mari didn’t get nervous.
Yet. After a moment or two, he said slowly, “I guess it’s all
right.”

“All right?” Shoot, that was tepid praise. “I
thought everybody nowadays was in love with the pictures.”

“Most people are.” He still frowned.

Watching him curiously, Mari said, “But
you’re not?”

He shrugged. “Oh, the pictures are all right,
I suppose. I’m not really interested in getting involved in them,
though. I prefer other business pursuits.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“I don’t know. Things I understand.” He
glanced at her and grinned again. His grins were enough to send a
girl into a swoon. “I’m interested in mining, actually. Studied
mining engineering in college.”

Mari stopped wanting to swoon. “Mining?” Her
voice had gone sharp. “What do you mean?”

If he’d come out here to get her mine away
from her, Mari’d have something to say about it. Damn him, anyway!
How dare he lull her into talking civilly to him and then as much
as tell her he aimed to deprive her of her father’s dream?

She told herself to calm down. She told
herself he hadn’t said that. She told herself he probably didn’t
even want to own the Marigold Mine. Why should he? It was an
unproductive hole in the ground.

As if he’d read her mind, he said wryly,
“Don’t worry, Mari, I’m not aiming to snatch your mine away from
you. I’m only interested in profitable ventures.”

She jerked as if he’d slapped her. “That was
a mean thing to say.” True, probably, but mean.

He had the grace to look apologetic. “You’re
right. I beg your pardon.”

She sniffed. Restraint blossomed between them
once more. Disheartened, Mari wondered if it would always be thus,
or if, before the end of this stupid picture, they’d be able to
talk to each other as friends. Or at least as acquaintances with no
particular grudge between them.

Probably not.

“I’m sorry, Mari.”

She was so startled by the words, which Tony
had spoken very softly into the lull, that she whipped her head
around to stare at him. She couldn’t believe her ears. After
considering asking him to repeat himself, however, she decided
against it. He was so darned touchy. Those nerves of his.

“Um, that’s all right,” she said, although
she might have been lying. She wasn’t sure.

“No, it’s not.”

Oh. Well, that settled that, she guessed. She
didn’t know what to say now.

He solved that problem. “I didn’t mean to say
anything unkind about your mine. It wasn’t polite, and I apologize.
I know how much it means to you.”

That was nice of him. “Thank you.” For some
reason she couldn’t fathom, her throat tightened. She’d have said
more, but was afraid she’d blubber and embarrass herself.

The motorcar purred along for another few
minutes. Neither Mari nor Tony spoke. Finally, Tony heaved a big
sigh and said, “Listen, Mari, I think we got off on the wrong foot.
I don’t want to fight anymore. Do you suppose we can try to get
along?”

Well, now, she wasn’t sure about that. She’d
sure like to get along with him. She could imagine all sorts of
uses for a rich friend like Tony Ewing. Unfortunately, she couldn’t
quite picture herself fitting in with his city pals.

That was stupid. He wasn’t asking her to join
his crowd. She eyed him thoughtfully, and said, “Sure. I suppose
so. I guess we have been kind of snapping at each other since we
met, haven’t we?”

“You could call it that.”

She had a feeling he was remembering the rock
incident and her lips tightened. That hadn’t been her fault, darn
it

“Anyhow, I’d like to bury the hatchet, if
that’s all right with you. Maybe we could just start over.”

Maybe they could. Then again . . . Mari said,
“Sure. All right.” It was worth a try, she supposed.

He turned the full glory of one of his
beautiful smiles on her, and Mari had to swallow hard. “Good. I
hope you’ll allow me to take you out to dinner in Los Angeles. I’ve
spent a good deal of time there these past several months, and I’ve
found where all the important picture people hang out. It might be
fun for you to see where the stars do their glittering at
night.”

She blinked at him “But . . . but I thought
we weren’t staying there overnight.”

He turned to face the road ahead of them
again, still smiling. “Changed my mind.”

As he began whistling a jolly tune, Mari’s
mind started churning out all sorts of scenarios. None of them were
very flattering to Tony’s character, but they sounded like a good
deal of fun to her.

Which went to show that she was only inches
away from being a fallen woman.

It was a lowering reflection, and Mari hoped
neither her father nor her mother was watching her from above.

Mari’s first impression of Los Angeles wasn’t
one of awe. Far from it. From her perspective, it was a dull brown
city much like San Bernardino, only bigger and full of orange
groves. Just a little bit bigger, though. It was mostly crops and
cows and cactus, like everything else in the vicinity.

“Doesn’t look like much so far, does it?”

She turned to see if Tony was laughing at
her, or if he’d been making an honest statement of fact. She gave
him the benefit of the doubt. “No, it sure doesn’t.”

After thinking for another few seconds, she
decided to say something else. Maybe he’d laugh at her. Maybe he
wouldn’t. Ever since he’d made an overture of detente back there on
the desert, they hadn’t been sniping at each other nearly as much
as before. Mari decided an experiment was worth the effort. “Um,
I’d sort of been hoping for something more grand.”

He smiled, but he didn’t laugh. “If you want
grand, you’re going to have to head east. L.A.’s pretty much a
desert town now. If it’s ever going to grow up to be a big city,
it’ll have to find a good source of water somewhere.”

She surveyed the dusty town and nodded in
agreement. “You’re probably right. I guess water’s the most
important thing, if a city expects to prosper.”

Still, Mari could see a glimmer of prosperity
here and there. One or two big houses with elegant grounds hove
into view and impressed the heck out of her. She wouldn’t mind
living in a house like one of those. They were castles compared to
her tiny shack.

As they drove deeper into the city itself,
she noticed a good deal of what she recognized as Spanish influence
prevailing. Many of the buildings were low white structures and had
tile roofs. Soon they were driving alongside a sprawling plaza with
a huge church at one end.

“Want to stop and look around? This is a good
place to get something to eat, too, if you like Mexican food.”

“I’d like to look around, but I don’t know if
I like Mexican food or not. I’m used to my own cooking.”

She glanced at him sharply when he chuckled,
but he didn’t look disparaging, so she decided not to get
indignant. He turned the automobile down a brick-paved road lined
with stalls where everything from hats and belts to turkeys and
chickens to apples and oranges was being sold. Mari asked
curiously, “Is this market day?” Thursday was market day in Mojave
Wells, but it wasn’t nearly as elaborate as this. On Thursdays a
few outlying farmers brought their vegetables and chickens to town.
This looked sort of permanent.