Miner's Daughter (41 page)

Tony’s entire monologue was peppered with
criticisms of his father. Mari didn’t mind, since she agreed with
him.

He went on to explain the deal Maurice had
struck with some business partners on the West Coast, and how he’d
paid Sidney and Clifford an enormous sum of money to sabotage the
production. It was all sort of interesting, although Mari still
itched to ask him what he’d meant by his comments earlier in the
day.

When, however, he went on to say, “I took
some of the rocks that were dislodged to an assayer in town today,
Mari,” she looked up from her chicken bones and gazed at him
curiously.

“Why? Don’t tell me you think there’s really
ore down there?”

His brow remained furrowed, as if he were
still laboring under strong emotions. “I don’t know. I’ve studied a
lot about mining, you know.”

“I remember you said you studied mining
engineer.”

“Right. Well . . . Let’s just say I have a
suspicion.”

“A suspicion? About what?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Mari wasn’t up to entertaining mysteries
today. She snapped, “Just remember that my contract states any ore
discovered in the making of this picture is mine.” She thought of
something. “And don’t think that you can get out of it by saying it
wasn’t discovered in the making of the picture, but rather in the
sabotaging of it, either, because it won’t wash.”

For the first time in what seemed like
forever, Tony grinned. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t try to
cheat you.”

“Humph. It’s a good thing.” She was finished
with her chicken and potatoes and was ready to start in on the
apple pie when Tony’s next words made her freeze with her fork
halfway to her lips.

“Anyhow, I think California has community
property laws, so what’s yours will be mine and what’s mine will be
yours, and it won’t matter who started out owning the Marigold Mine
“

She blinked and slowly replaced her fork on
her dessert plate. After clearing her throat, she said, “Um, I beg
your pardon?”

His eyebrows lifted. “What? I only mentioned
California’s community property laws.”

“What does that have to do with
anything?”

“Why, it means that married couples have an
equal right to property owned during marriage.”

Mari glanced around the room. “Um, I don’t
see any married folks in here, Tony.”

His smiled made her heart hitch. “Maybe not
now, but there soon will be.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

She jumped and almost spilled her dinnerware
when he bounded out of his chair and fell to one knee in front of
her. Even Tiny was rattled. He uttered a short whimper and slid
sideways on the rug.

Tony took up the hand that had lately held
her fork and lifted it to his lips. “Mari, I’ve been meaning to ask
you this for what seems like a lifetime now, but something always
interrupted.” He paused and sniffed. “Yum, smells like
chicken.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“I want you to marry me, Mari. I want you to
be my wife. I want you and Tiny to live with me here in Southern
California.” He grimaced. “In Mojave Wells, if you must, although
I’m going to insist on building a house. I’ll be damned if I’ll
live in a one-room cabin.”

“You-you want to marry me? Me?” She pointed
to her chest with a shaky finger.

“You bet. You’re the only woman I’ve ever met
whom I can even conceive of marrying.”

“My God.”

“Is that a yes?”

She nodded. “Yes. It’s a yes.”

In one fluid movement, Tony removed the tray
from Mari’s lap and set it on the floor. Then he joined her on the
overstuffed chair, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her as if
there were no tomorrow. Mari didn’t care if there wasn’t one. This
moment would last her forever.

Tiny ate her pie.

Filming on
Lucky Strike
was delayed
for a week while sets were redecorated so Mari could sit as she
played her remaining scenes, and her condition could be hidden from
the camera’s inhuman eye.

Because she refused to stay in Tony Ewing’s
hotel room with him as a single lady, the minister of Mari’s
church, Mr. Grubfield, performed a marriage ceremony in the large
parlor of the Mojave Inn. Considering the shortness of the time
folks had between the announcement and the ceremony—a day—Mrs.
Nelson, Judy, and the rest of Mari’s friends in Mojave Wells did a
splendid job of decorating. Mrs. Nelson even made a three-tiered
wedding cake. It tilted slightly to one side, and the decorations
were lovely.

That night, in spite of Mari’s damaged foot,
Tony gave her another lesson in the art of lovemaking. An apt and
ingenious student, Mari then taught Tony some very creative ways to
achieve glorious satisfaction in unusual positions (said positions
made necessary by the state of her health).

Tiny improved daily, much to Mari’s delight.
The Nelsons and Tony tolerated the monster dog’s presence in their
lives with more grumpiness than they felt. Tiny was too lovable to
make enemies.

Now that the problem of who was behind the
acts of vandalism was solved, Martin fretted for approximately one
and a half days. He was worried about money to finish the project
now that Maurice Ewing had been revealed as a wolf in sheep’s
clothing. Although he still didn’t share Martin’s love of the
moving pictures, Tony offered his own funds. With a grim smile, he
told Martin not to worry. Tony aimed to make absolutely sure his
father paid eventually for all the harm he’d done, both to Peerless
and to Mari.

The assayer’s report on the Marigold Mine
revealed a rich vein of borax. Tony invested more of his money in
repairing and reviving the mine. Because he could afford to hire
sufficient men and machinery, the Marigold Mine was soon one of the
most profitable borax mines in the San Bernardino area

Although Tony had meant it when he’d assured
Mari he’d live in Mojave Wells if she wanted to, Mari decided she
and Tiny would enjoy life more if they had more green around them.
Therefore, the Ewings built a magnificent estate on Orange Grove
Boulevard in Pasadena, where the Ewing clan flourished.

It became more and more difficult to avoid
movie people as more of them flooded from the East Coast to the
West. Bowing to the inevitable, Tony invested heavily in the
Peerless Studio, which also flourished. Martin Tafft was a frequent
visitor to the Ewing estate, and stood godfather to the first Ewing
offspring, a little boy whom they named Theodore, after Mr.
Roosevelt.

The only contact Tony ever had with his
father again was via the courts. Maurice Ewing paid heavily for his
underhanded dealings with Peerless although, naturally, he was too
rich ever to go to prison.

Ten years after they’d met, Tony and Mari
stood on the massive front porch of their estate and gazed out upon
acres of rolling green, dotted here and there with frolicking
children and Great Danes.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer horses,
Mari?”

It was an old argument, and not a heated one.
In truth, it had become a family joke.

“Not on your life,” Mari told him, as she
always did. “Horses are too darned big.”

“Right.”

It didn’t matter anyway, since Tiny and his
kin were happy to allow the little Ewing children to ride on their
backs.

Tony had never been happier.

Mari, whose life had been rough from the
beginning, still had trouble believing in her luck. When she
glanced from her husband’s beloved profile to her children
shrieking with delight on the green, green grass of her home, she
decided it wasn’t luck.

Her father’s dream had finally paid off.