Miner's Daughter (27 page)

She didn’t kiss men all the time. Far from
it. In fact, except for Gordon Shay, who didn’t count, she’d never
been kissed at all until last night. Anyhow, there was no way on
earth to compare Gordon to Anthony Ewing. They might belong to
different species entirely, so different were they from each
other.

Gordon and Mari were from the same
sphere.

Which meant that Mari and Tony might belong
to different species, too.

“By thunder, I’m in a bad mood,” Mari
muttered. She turned the doorknob and flung the door open, still
praying in her heart of hearts that Tony had come to pick her up
this morning, even though she tried to deny it.

She watched the dust cloud flung up behind
the motorcar, and raised a hand to shade her eyes as she squinted
into the bright distance. Her heart was doing an odd-rhythmed jig
in her chest, her mouth was dry, her head hurt, and she wished she
could get over her fruitless infatuation with Tony. It felt awful.
She felt awful.

“I thought love was supposed to be a
wonderful thing, Tiny,” she grumbled into the desert air, the
temperature of which had already soared to a hundred, or she missed
her guess. “If what I’m feeling is love, it hurts like heck, and I
wish it would go away and leave me alone.”

But it didn’t. And when the motorcar came
close enough so Mari could discern the features of its driver, the
heart that had been giving her so many problems lately plummeted
into the dirt at her feet. “It’s not Tony, Tiny.”

It was a funny thing, but saying the two
names together sounded silly and cheered her up a trifle. So she
said them again. “Tony. Tiny. That’s funny. Tiny. Tony.”

Tiny, wagging cheerfully at her feet, seemed
to be enjoying the juxtaposition of the two names as well. He
barked a greeting as the driver pulled up in front of the cabin. It
was George Peters, the set designer.

That was nice. Mari liked George. Even if he
wasn’t Tony.

George got out of the motorcar. “Good
morning, Miss Pottersby. Tony asked me to pick you up this morning.
He and Martin are tied up with the insurance people.”

Oh. At least Tony had a plausible excuse for
not coming to get her himself. Mari tried to be understanding as
she shook George’s hand. “Call me Mari, please. I understand all
picture people call each other by their first names.”

George laughed as he opened the door to the
backseat of the big touring car and gestured for Tiny to enter. “I
guess they do. I’m just not used to it yet.”

“That makes two of us.” Tiny didn’t get into
the car, but stood there glancing from George to Mari and wagging
his tail. Mari sighed. “Come on, Tiny, get in the car. Here, I’ll
show you.” She did, and he got in.

George rolled down the glass of the back
passenger’s window, and patted it for Tiny’s benefit. “See? You can
stick your big head out there and sniff to your heart’s content
while we drive to Mojave Wells.” He laughed when Tiny took him up
on his suggestion. “That’s one big dog you have there, Mari. It’s
funny that you named him Tiny.”

George’s good humor buoyed Mari’s spirits
slightly. “Believe it or not, he was the runt of the litter. That’s
how he got his name.”

“Wow. I’d like to see the other pups, if he’s
the littlest.”

Gentlemanlike, George opened the front door
for Mari. She thought that was sweet of him. George seemed like a
genuinely nice young man. He probably wasn’t so far above her in
life that it would be nonsensical to love him. Unlike Tony Ewing,
who was. Unfortunately, while she liked George, he didn’t make her
heart sing and her blood race and her whole being want to
smile.

She had to stop this. “I don’t think he’s the
smallest anymore. He grew like a weed after he came to live with
me.”

“He must eat a lot.” George cranked the
motorcar to life, jumped into the front seat next to Mari, and the
automobile chugged off toward Mojave Wells.

“He does. He’s a real sweetheart, though. He
fools people, because he’s so big.”

“I’ll say. Martin told me what happened when
he and Harrowgate first came to talk to you.” He shook his head and
looked wistful. “Wish I could have seen it. Harrowgate’s such a
pompous old thing. I’d love to see him being given a bath by
Tiny.”

Mari laughed at the memory. She couldn’t help
herself; and she blessed George for reminding her.

They chatted amiably as George drove Mari to
the Mojave Inn. The first thing she saw as the automobile roared
close to the town was the crowd of people gathered around the shed
in back of the hotel. They were quite far away yet, and soon
buildings would interfere with her vision, so she squinted and
tried to pick out Tony’s form from among the others.

No use. Before she’d managed to focus on a
likely candidate, her view of the scene was obscured behind Mr.
Fenster’s barn. “How long have the insurance people been there?”
she asked. “They must have come mighty early this morning.”

“They did.” George laughed. “Martin was
already up and eating breakfast—he’s an early riser—but the rest of
us had to be rousted out of bed. Tony wasn’t happy about it.”

Mari felt herself quiver to attention, like
some sort of sharp-eared animal catching the sound of its prey “Oh?
He doesn’t like early mornings, eh?”

“I guess not. Don’t blame him. I prefer
sleeping until around eightish myself. Picture folks usually have
to get up earlier than that, so I’m adjusting.”

“Eight? That’s early? Shoot, for me, that’s
the middle of the day” One more massive difference between poor
Mari Pottersby and rich Tony Ewing.

“The middle of the day?” George exclaimed.
“For goodness’ sake, Mari, that’s appalling.” He laughed again.
“You and my sister-in-law ought to meet each other. She’s always
telling me I’m a lazy bum because I don’t like mornings.”

“She is?” Until this moment, Mari had been
under the impression that Brenda Fitzpatrick was a nice woman. Now
she wasn’t so sure.

George set her mind at rest on the matter at
once. “She’s only teasing. It’s just that she had to get up so
blasted early for so many years, that it was hard for her to adjust
to a life of ease after she married my brother.”

“Oh. For heaven’s sake.” Well, now, wasn’t
that interesting? Mari had assumed, because of everything she’d
read, that famous actors and actresses lived lives of idleness and
luxury. Of course, now that she thought about it, it made sense
that they had to work, too. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be rich and
famous, would they? Unlike the Anthony Ewings of the world, they
had to labor for their wages. Tony’s fortune had descended on him
at birth, as if from heaven. Sort of like bird droppings.

That’s not fair
, Mari, she scolded
herself, even as she smiled inside at the image the thought had
created.

And anyway, how had she got back on that old,
bedraggled subject again? She didn’t know why her brain insisted on
wallowing in the differences between herself and Tony. Recounting
them all only made her unhappy. But wallow it did; she felt as if
she were the victim of her own rebellious brain, and she didn’t
enjoy the feeling at all.

George stopped the motorcar in front of the
hotel and hopped out to open Mari’s door. That was one thing she’d
learned since Peerless came to town. She now waited for the
gentleman to open her door and didn’t jump the gun and open it for
herself. It still didn’t make any sense that society should
consider women incapable of opening doors for themselves, but she
was too tired to fight tradition this morning, even if she wanted
to. She didn’t, either. After all, it had been she who’d asked Tony
to teach her how to behave; she’d be foolish to ignore his kindly
imparted lessons.

There she went again: thinking about Tony.
She wished she could simply press a switch and turn off the
Tony-dwelling part of her mind. No such luck.

“Want to go out back and see what’s
happening?” George asked eagerly.

“Sure. Let me put Tiny’s leash on him so he
doesn’t scare the insurance men away.”

George chuckled, and Mari got her dog more or
less under control. Tiny was excited and really wanted to be loping
up and down the street and greeting all of his old buddies in town,
but Mari didn’t want any trouble or misunderstandings that might
ensue because of the size and disorderliness of her dog. “I’ll let
you run later, boy,” she promised.

Tiny woofed once, wagged his tail, and she
guessed he understood. The three of them went toward the shed in
the backyard, hastened along by Tiny, who dragged them after he
figured out which way they wanted to go.

Once she was close enough to distinguish
forms and faces, the first person Mari saw was Tony Ewing. He had
his fists on his lean hips and was frowning down at the remains of
the two cameras. They had been dragged outside in the sun by
pulling the canvas upon which they lay.

Mari’s breath hitched. The day was hot
already and promised further delights, if one enjoyed broiling in
the sun. To accommodate the weather, Tony had shucked off his
jacket, unbuttoned several top buttons on his shirt, and rolled up
his sleeves. He hadn’t bothered to don a celluloid collar at all,
and he looked deliciously rugged sans all of his fine trappings.
Mari’s heart started thudding painfully.

Tiny gave an excited bark, Tony glanced up,
and his gaze locked with Mari’s for several seconds. Confused by
the emotions tumbling inside her, Mari blushed, finally managed to
drag her gaze away from his, and lowered her head, pretending to
watch where she was stepping.

“Oh, there you are, Mari.” Martin left the
group of men and hurried over to her. “We’re almost through here.
Why don’t you go inside? We’re using room three as a change and
makeup room. Your costume is in there waiting for you. We should be
ready to start filming soon.”

“Without cameras?” Her glance kept sliding
over to Tony, but she pretended her interest centered solely in the
ruined cameras.

“We got two more cameras in this morning, one
of which I’ve already sent out to the mine to do some site testing
in the mine shaft. I cabled the studio, and Phin sent them right
out. I don’t know what this is going to mean, money-wise, but we
have to keep going with the filming or we’ll get hopelessly behind
schedule, and the insurance fellows will just have to catch up with
us.” He cast a worried peek at the wreckage. “At least, I sure hope
they will.”

She nodded. “Yes. I do, too. It would be
awful if somebody got away with doing this.”

“Yeah. That fellow over there”—Martin pointed
to a burly man in khaki slacks and shirt—“is investigating from a
police angle.”

“Oh, it’s Mr. Jones.” Mari waved at the man,
who waved back. “He’s been the sheriff here for ages.”

Martin nodded. “Why don’t you go on in and
get ready for your first scene now. The costume and makeup people
are waiting for you.”

Bother. Mari had wanted to go over, stand
beside Tony, gaze at the demolished cameras, and masquerade as an
interested bystander. In truth, she just wanted to be near Tony for
a few minutes. Even a few seconds. She felt an awful need to have a
dose of him, as if that would make her feel better.

Quit being an idiot, Mari Pottersby. You
have a headache from not sleeping enough.
Which was Tony’s
fault, too.

Exasperated with herself, Mari said, “Okay.”
She was about to turn and do her duty when she remembered Tiny. She
didn’t know how she’d managed to forget about him in the first
place, since he was practically pulling her arm out of its socket,
trying to get to where the action and the people were. “Um,
Martin.”

“Yes?” He’d been peering anxiously at the
small crowd of people surrounding the entrance to the shed.

Mari hated to ask but knew she had to. “Um,
would you mind watching Tiny for me? Or I can take him with me.”
She hesitated, then plunged ahead. “Except that he really wants to
see what’s going on. He’s a snoopy dog.”

Martin eyed Tiny with what looked like a good
deal of affection. Mari’s heart lightened considerably. “Snoopy, is
he? Sure, I’ll be glad to renew acquaintances with your cow—I mean,
your dog.”

Mari giggled. She felt better already.
“Thanks, Martin.” Casting one last glance at Tony, whose
concentration seemed to be wholly on the mess at his feet, she
sighed and walked, drooping slightly, to the hotel. Judy Nelson
greeted her at the front door with a dust rag in her hands and her
hair in a scarf.

“Hi, Judy.”

“Hi, Mari. Say, did you see what happened to
those cameras out there?” Judy’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

Mari understood that. The making of a motion
picture in Mojave Wells was probably the most thrilling thing that
had ever happened or ever would happen here.

“Yes. I saw them yesterday. What a mess.”

“I’ll say. They called in Sheriff Jones,
too.”

This was exhilarating because, as a rule, the
sheriff only got to suppress rowdy drunks. He probably couldn’t
remember the last time a real crime had been perpetrated in Mojave
Wells. He must be as excited as the rest of the community now.

“Yeah,” she said. “I saw him out there,
trying to look official.” Both girls giggled.

“That’s a stretch. Usually he just looks
sleepy.”

Out of curiosity and because she wanted to
know if Judy had been given any juicy tidbits of information that
Mari had missed from the distance of her cabin, Mari asked, “Has
anybody become a suspect yet?”

Judy shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
Her smile vanished. “You know it’s got to be one of them, Mari.
Nobody in Mojave Wells would do anything like that.”

“You’re right. I think so, too.” Folks in
Mojave Wells had too much respect for personal property rights.
Mari couldn’t imagine a soul who’d think it a good idea to smash
expensive equipment like those cameras. “But who could it be?
Aren’t all those guys employed by Peerless? They wouldn’t want to
jeopardize their own production, would they?”