Miner's Daughter (9 page)

Mari gasped. “Mercy sakes, is that me?” The
question had been asked in a whisper, and held a world of
wonder.

“That’s you.” Martin, on the other hand,
sounded about as happy as a man could sound.

Watching the wall, Tony guessed he understood
why Martin sounded so damned happy. Mari Pottersby looked good on
film. Very good. Appealing. Delicious. Almost ethereal—which was a
laugh, since she was about as ethereal as a dynamite blast.

Unable to stand not knowing how she was
taking this, Tony leaned over and peeked at Mari. She was sitting
as straight as an iron rod in her chair. It looked as if her hands
were strangling each other in a tight knot in her lap. She stared
at the Mari projected on the wall as if in horror. Her mouth opened
slightly, and it looked as if she wanted to say something, but she
didn’t. She licked her lips.

He couldn’t wait any longer. “What do you
think, Miss Pottersby? How do you like yourself on celluloid?”

She didn’t turn to look at him, being too
occupied in staring at the wall. “I-I don’t know. It doesn’t look
like me. I mean, it doesn’t look like what I think I look like. I
mean—oh, bother.”

Tony understood.

So, apparently, did Martin. He chuckled
easily. Everything about Martin was easy. Tony usually enjoyed
Martin’s company, but sometimes he acknowledged a faint twinge of
envy. Tony wished he could be as personable as Martin. Martin got
along with everybody. Tony struggled with people who weren’t as
quick as he, or as knowledgeable. It wasn’t a pleasant personality
characteristic, and he tried to hide it. He figured he’d inherited
it from his father, who was as impatient as a man could be.

“It’s probably going to take you some time to
get used to it,” Martin went on to say. “Lots of people have a hard
time when they first see themselves on film.”

Mari wouldn’t turn and face Tony, but she had
no trouble facing Martin. Tony frowned as he saw her face, chalk
white from makeup and the darkness, stare with those huge,
beautiful eyes at his companion.

“Really? You mean everyone looks strange on
film?”

Another chuckle. Then Martin said, “You only
think you look strange. The truth is, you look great. You’re
absolutely a perfect fit for the heroine of
Lucky Strike
,
and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if there were many more
opportunities for you, should you want them, after this picture
comes out. You’re a natural.”

She was a natural, all right. As Tony watched
himself appear on the wall, creeping toward Mari, Mari backing up
in terror, and then picking up a rock and walloping him over the
head with it, he decided she was a natural disaster.

Two weeks later, the town of Mojave Wells was
under siege. At least that’s how it looked to Mari, who watched
with trepidation as trucks and wagons loaded to the rails with
picture props, cast, crew, scenery, cameras, and trunks and boxes
filled with mysterious stuff, rolled into the small town.

The Peerless Studio had taken the place over
Mojave Wells had grown to twice its normal size in a single day.
The Mojave Inn was full to overflowing. Judy had even been forced
to give up her own room to accommodate Peerless crew members.
Citizens had been recruited to rent rooms to some of the
actors.

Nobody minded. This was the most exciting
thing that had ever happened in the small desert community. It beat
the tar out of borax mining.

Everyone who had lived in the town for more
than a year or so marveled at the prospect of one of their own
actually getting to play a part in a moving picture.

Mari had never entertained so many visitors
in her short life.

Tiny, who loved company, was thrilled.

Mari, who enjoyed the camaraderie, was as
nervous as a rabbit facing a stew pot.

She held on to Tiny’s collar as carpenters
moved in on her mine. Her heart thumped like a bass drum. “Oh, boy,
Tiny, I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

How could ten thousand dollars possibly be
the wrong thing?

Mari didn’t know, but she’d struggled to
survive for long enough to doubt the existence of good luck. Luck
was what a person worked like the devil to achieve and then
generally didn’t. It wasn’t something granted by passing good fairy
from Peerless who decided to whack an individual on the head with
her—or, in this case, his—magic wand.

Oh, sure, Mari had read about the chance soul
who happened to find a vein of rich ore in his backyard. She
understood some guy in Australia had found a rock that had turned
out to be a gigantic diamond while out walking in a field.

That kind of luck had never visited Mari, and
she didn’t expect it to show up at her door. She’d had to work like
heck all of her life and didn’t anticipate that aspect of existence
changing any time soon. As a matter of fact, she couldn’t rid
herself of a taint of mistrust about this whole motion-picture
venture with which she’d got herself entangled.

“Oh, good. There’s Mr. Tafft.”

Walking toward her waving and smiling, and
dressed to the nines as usual, Martin was the first real bright
spot Mari had encountered that day. She smiled back tentatively,
wondering if he was going to bring her bad news. She couldn’t
imagine what it might be. That he’d found another girl who looked
better than she did on film? That he’d decided not to use her mine
after all?

But no. Those guys with the picks, hammers,
saws and shovels were now clustered around the Marigold, talking to
each other. They must be going to do something. Mari hoped they’d
shore up the rickety structure of the mine shaft, which had been in
place for far too long without repairs. She wasn’t holding her
breath, however.

“Good morning, Miss Pottersby!” Martin called
when he was still several yards away. He looked peachy in a tan
sack coat and sporty Knickerbocker pants. He was quite the dresser,
although he always managed somehow to appear tasteful and not at
all gaudy. Mari feared if she tried to be fashionable, she’d stick
out of the crowd like a bandaged thumb. You couldn’t turn a sow’s
ear into a silk purse, as she’d been told all her life. Which was
sort of depressing.

She forced herself to smile at Martin. “Hi
there, Mr. Tafft. I see you’re ready to begin working on the
picture.” She tried to sound confident. She swore to herself that
she wouldn’t cry when he told her they were pulling out and that
she’d never see a dime of Peerless money, much less the ten grand
she’d been promised.

Martin strode up, grinning. Before he
responded to Mari’s comment, he held out a hand for Tiny, who
demonstrated his obliging nature by washing it for him

Mari said, “Tiny!”

The dog merely wagged his tail, thus stirring
up a cloud of dust, assuming Mari had spoken his name as a sign of
approval. Tiny never anticipated unpleasantness in people. She
wished she could be more like her dog.

Martin laughed. “He’s a friendly cuss for so
enormous a dog, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” Mari sighed. Heck, even her dog, who
looked like he might eat a person as soon as look at him, was a
teddy bear in disguise. Maybe she should have got herself one of
those ratty little Chihuahuas. They were mean as the dickens. But
she loved Tiny, good nature and all, and couldn’t bear even to
think about giving him up. That was another reason she was going to
be miserable when Martin told her she wasn’t going to get that pile
of money.

Martin straightened, still smiling. Tiny’s
eyes took on the mournful cast Mari could never resist, so she took
over petting him after Martin gave it up.

“The first thing we’re going to do is test
the strength of your mine’s main tunnel, if that’s all right with
you.” Martin gazed happily at the crew clumped around the mine’s
entrance.

Maybe they
were
going to use her mine,
and maybe they’d even shore up-the shaft. Mari licked her lips and
mentally crossed her fingers.

“Sure. I mean, you explained that to me
before.” She’d even had him spell it out in the contract.
Unfortunately, she’d managed to develop grave doubts in the ensuing
weeks. Mari had got the feeling, while they’d been negotiating,
that Anthony Ewing had been impatient with her. But she’d never
done anything like this before and aimed to make darned sure she
didn’t encounter any unpleasant surprises. Anything might happen,
however, and she swore she’d keep a stiff upper lip when it
did.

“Right.” Martin nodded. “But I want to make
sure you always know what’s going on, because I know how much this
mine means to you.”

He didn’t even sound sarcastic, and Mari
appreciated him for it. “Thank you.”

“Thank
you
.”

So much for that. Although she hated herself
for it, Mari asked, “Um, is Mr. Ewing going to be here during the
filming?”

“Tony?” Martin seemed surprised. “Oh, sure.
He’s going to be here the whole time. This is his father’s first
picture investment, and Tony’s going to be an integral part of the
entire process.”

“Oh.”

“In fact,” Martin went on eagerly, “I think I
see him coming right now.” He walked a few paces away from Mari,
lifted his cupped hands to his mouth, and called out, “Tony! Over
here!” He raised his arm and made sweeping gestures of welcome.

Great. Now she could have Tony Ewing sneering
at her.

Mari told herself to stop it. She’d been
mooning about the man for two solid weeks now. Why was she
pretending not to want him here now?

Simple, she answered herself. She was afraid
of him. Oh, she wasn’t afraid of
him
exactly. She was
terrified of what he represented, which was everything she’d ever
dreamed about for her life. Mari had adored her father, who’d been
a decent, hardworking, lovable, witty, and lighthearted fellow. She
wished more people in the world were like him, in fact.

But, oh, sometimes she really, really longed
for stability and security. Even a luxury or two might be nice
every once in a while.

Tony Ewing, the son of a man as wealthy as
Mari’s father had been poor, epitomized every good thing in the
world to her. He had money, looks, breeding, intelligence, business
sense, and an effortless ability to fit into society. Any society.
Even her fellow natives of Mojave Wells claimed to like him. Mari
had asked, since she’d found him so alarming. Not to mention
annoying.

She’d discovered herself to be the only one
who’d had this reaction to him. All the rest of her friends thought
he was a pip.

Yes, indeedy. Tony Ewing had everything. Mari
had nothing. They were poles apart in every particular, and he made
her so skittish, she could hardly stand it.

As he got closer, she tried not to stare at
him in awe. He looked good enough to eat today, in his seersucker
summer suit and jaunty straw hat, with his easy stride eating up
the distance between them. She couldn’t figure out why his
appearance today should move her so much. She’d certainly not
forgotten how good looking he was; yet seeing him in person rattled
her.

She braced herself for the encounter,
unwilling to let him know how much his presence affected her. He
was conceited enough already. He didn’t need to add her to his
trophy list. She imagined her head, stuffed and mounted, in the
reading room of some elegant Ewing-owned castle somewhere, her name
engraved on a small brass plaque underneath. She’d not be given a
place of honor. That, she was sure, he’d reserve for someone of
greater social standing, poise, beauty, and wealth than she.

In fact, he might not even bother to mount
her head. Shoot, he must have millions of women under his belt by
this time. Therefore, she didn’t greet him with a smile as he
approached her and Martin. She watched his pleasant expression
harden as he joined them.

Unfortunately, her concentration on ignoring
Tony Ewing caused her attention to slip from Tiny. The dog stood
up, wagging up a hurricane with his tale, and she jerked sideways,
not having anticipated the sudden movement. When Tiny let out an
ecstatic bark and lurched away from her, her hand slipped from his
collar, and Tiny bounded off to greet Tony.

“Tony! I mean Tiny! “Mari shrieked, as she
watched her dog barrel straight at the approaching millionaire.

“Oh, Lord,” murmured Martin.

“Damn it!” bellowed Tony as Tiny, in a
display of rapture so great it surprised even Mari, leaped upon
Tony, putting his giant black paws on his white-clad shoulders.
Formerly white-clad shoulders.

Mari whispered, “Oh, dear,” and pressed her
flaming cheeks with her hands.

Martin chuckled.

“Damnation, Miss Pottersby, call off this
beast!”

At least Tony didn’t fall over backward under
the dog’s exuberant greeting.

“I’ve already said I’m sorry,” Mari snapped.
“I can’t help it if my dog has no discrimination.”

Tony glowered at her, so furious he could
scarcely get his brain to form words and his lips to speak them.
“You might train the damned thing not to maul visitors.”

“He didn’t maul you. He greeted you with
affection. Here. Try this.”

Tony eyed the dripping rag in Mari’s hand
with distaste. He’d never had to live so rough in his life, and he
didn’t like it. Why people actually ventured into the wild, where
there were no accommodations and even worse beasts than this
woman’s dog, baffled him. “What did you put in the water?” he asked
suspiciously

“Only washing soda. It’ll probably get the
dirt out. It’s only dirt”

Only dirt. “Right.” He snatched the rag from
her hand and scrubbed a dirty shoulder. He ought to have known
better than to wear a new suit in this disgusting wilderness. It
only made him more furious to know he’d done so to impress Mari
Pottersby.