“A lot of that is the magic of the camera.” Muriel turned the praise aside.
Rex grunted, which came as no surprise. Muriel didn’t expect praise from him.
She told herself she didn’t want it or need it.
With her hair hanging loose down her back, Muriel looked almost fresh. Rex found himself smiling. A perfectly ordinary reaction to a beautiful woman, he told himself. He had never kidded himself about Muriel Galloway’s beauty. In an industry where beauty was as common as the sunrise, she stood out.
He wouldn’t have hired her to work on Ruined Hopes if she didn’t. Between his reputation for great film and Muriel’s star power, the film was assured success.
“We’ll have to make some adjustments to tomorrow’s schedule.” Rex ran through what he hoped to accomplish in the morning.
“Before we film anything else…” Muriel lifted her hand like a child at school. “Sarah says our costumes are not believable. Anyone who lives in the area will laugh at us.”
“Who knows what the old Indians wore. She doesn’t have any photographs, does she?”
“Of course not. But what she said made sense. This dress is too fancy for every day.”
Fred snorted. “People go to the movies to escape. They hope for better than what they have at home. The party dress is fine.” He looked down at his buckskin shirt. “Did she have any suggestions for my costume? I’d love to hear whatever she recommends.”
“Absolutely. In fact, Rex, I believe Sarah would be a valuable addition to the crew. We need someone who can set us straight about Indian customs and the like.”
Rex’s temper flared. “I’ve decided against working with the Navajo extras again. Today they showed how undependable they were.”
She opened those wide brown eyes, eyes that drew audiences into the depths of her soul. “They left because they knew the canyon would flood. Do you expect them to risk their lives?”
“We escaped, didn’t we?” On the set, his word was law. The quality of the film depended on it. “They had no business leaving before I dismissed them.”
“That’s why we need Sarah.” Muriel wouldn’t let it go. “We need someone who can help both sides understand each other.”
“I say it’s a good idea,” Fred said.
Rex tilted his head and stared at the Indian woman. Impassive, she stared back. She nodded, as if accepting a position he hadn’t yet decided that he wanted to offer.
“Very well. I will discuss it with her.”
“Good.” Muriel turned on the wide smile that invited the audience to laugh with her. “Now, have you given further thought to my request for a daily chapel for the crew?”
Chapter 3
Rex gritted his teeth against the anger he felt. He didn’t want to unleash his feelings in this confined space. To paraphrase the old adage, give her a minute of time on film, and she’d demand an entire reel.
“We’ve discussed this already.” Rex focused all his outrage into his voice. Rising to his feet, his head rammed into the ceiling, and he swore. Muriel winced. Good. He was a decent man, even if he occasionally let loose with words that expressed his feelings, and he didn’t need any of that mumbo jumbo that she and Benny bought into. He sat back down.
“There are ladies present.” Fred spoke into the silence.
“Miss Galloway knows my opinion on the subject. We are making a film, not holding a revival meeting. Not everyone shares her religious views.”
Muriel looked at Benny, as if seeking his support. He obliged. “Neither one of us wants the chapel to be mandatory. God wants a willing heart.”
“We only ask for a short time in the morning schedule to meet with any who wish to join us.” She smiled that beguiling smile that worked so well on film.
“Look at it this way, chum.” Fred winked in Muriel’s direction. “These two do-gooders will work all the harder if they believe they have God’s blessing.”
That made Muriel laugh, something Rex knew his fussing never allowed. “Does that mean you will join us, Fred?”
He shrugged. “I might check it out.”
Rex felt the eyes of all those gathered on him, including Sarah’s taking in everything, revealing nothing. “Very well. As long as we take advantage of all the light possible.” His eyes bored into Benny’s, challenging him to disagree.
“We’ll do that.” The photographer grinned. “You’re welcome to join us any time.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“We can always hope.” Benny clapped him on the back.
“And pray. Thank you, Rex.” Muriel’s soft eyes reminded Rex of the prayer she had raised on his behalf earlier.
He huffed and turned his attention elsewhere. “You there. Sarah. Come on and join the party.”
The woman stood—she didn’t have to worry about hitting the ceiling, she could almost wear a hat and still fit—and shuffled her way to their circle. She took a place beside Muriel. Looking at her, Rex realized how different her clothing was from what they had designed for the cast. But what did it matter? Ruined Hopes was a fictional story about people who lived hundreds of years ago.
“Miss Galloway has recommended that we hire you as an advisor on the film. I have agreed to her suggestion. Tomorrow you can meet with the scriptwriter and wardrobe director.”
Sarah stirred. “If I work for you, my brother must also come.”
Rex sat back. This…native…was refusing his job offer? “My understanding was that you wanted the job.”
“Yanaba is a hunter. He talked with me about the scene you filmed today. He will be a help.”
Irritated at having his hand forced to hire not only one, but two, extra crew members, Rex frowned. “Very well. You and your brother can report for work tomorrow.”
She nodded but said nothing further, earning a grudging smile from Rex. He valued a woman who knew how to keep her own counsel. She poked at the fire. “We do not have enough wood to burn all night.”
Rex stared out the door. The neighboring canyon wall blocked most of the sky. “Then we’d best get settled for the night before the lights go out.” He flashed a devilish grin. “I don’t suppose you have any blankets in that bag of yours?”
Sarah shook her head once.
“Then good night, all.” He stretched out with his head facing the opening, a light breeze stirring his hair, keeping it from being plastered against his face. He doubted if he would sleep a moment, not with the events of the day recycling through his mind time and again.
Muriel lay next to Sarah on the far side of the room, finding privacy in the shadows that turned into midnight blackness when the fire went out. Like the princess and the pea, she felt every pebble that had scattered across the floor under her. She folded her arms under her head, but she didn’t know if that was an improvement over having the rock for a pillow. Was Jacob this uncomfortable when he took that trip so far away from home, when he saw the angels on the ladder? If she could spot a star, she’d imagine the ladder reaching all the way up to God. The thought gave her some comfort, and she drifted into sleep.
The next thing she knew, she opened her eyes to a sky turning a pale gray. Rex stood in the opening, leaning out far enough that he didn’t need to bend. Her breath caught in her throat, afraid he might tumble to his death.
His shoulders squared, ready to take on everything the world threw his way. A leader among men, he would have succeeded in any place or any time. So much to admire about the man, so brilliant—so sad, without the Lord. Once again she asked God for a chance to share the Gospel with him, that he would be receptive to the message. A man like Rex would find it difficult to admit he needed anything, let alone salvation.
Muriel’s stomach growled, and Rex ducked back into the room. “Fred?”
“It’s Muriel.”
“We should be able to climb to the canyon floor. I don’t know how easily Cook can fix a meal for us, however.”
Benny sat up and stretched. “No worries. Cook
moved our foodstuffs the day before yesterday. He was worried about animal predators, not floods, but it turns out it was the smart thing to do.”
By the time they reached the canyon floor, the entire camp was stirring. Muriel expected the ground to be soaked, like the muddy morass of spring from her New England childhood. But aside from being a little soft underfoot, only a few hollows of water here and there gave evidence to yesterday’s downpour.
Desperate for a bath, Muriel decided to find out what happened to Cecil Zimmer. She sought out Benny, where he was checking through equipment. “How does it look?”
“Not bad. A broken lens on one camera, but I have a replacement. No need to stop filming. Rex will be pleased.”
Muriel laughed. “Has anyone seen the missing man this morning? Cecil?”
As she spoke the words, a cheer erupted from the crew. Zimmer had returned. Out of the corner of her eye, Muriel noticed Rex heading in his direction. I have to head him off.
She stretched her legs and reached Cecil at the same time. “We have been so concerned for you. You were in our prayers last night.”
Rex snorted but didn’t dispute her claim.
Muriel noticed wrapping around his arm. “What happened?”
“I got knocked around a bit climbing out the end of the canyon. Some of those Navajo folks helped me to their village and did my arm up proud.”
“That’s a blessing.” Muriel touched his forearm. “How bad is it?”
“It will heal.” He shrugged. “You don’t have to worry about me, Mr. Pride. I can do my job, no problem.”
“I’ll get a doctor to take a look at it. Don’t want to trust your future to a bunch of uneducated Indians.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. Nothing’s broken, just a little sore.”
Problem solved, Rex turned his attention to the day’s work. Muriel could almost see the wheels turning in his head, calculating how quickly the daylight would disappear. He glanced at a piece of paper in his hand then looked Muriel up and down. “How much time will you need to get ready?”
She put her hand to her hair, wishing she could wash it, but Rex wouldn’t allow that much of a delay. How much time did she need to freshen up and scrape off yesterday’s makeup and grime and check her costume for damage? Speaking of costumes…
“Are we going to make any changes to the costumes?”
Rex scowled. “I don’t know. Yates will be bringing me her recommendations by the end of the day. We will keep to today’s schedule. If we change the costumes, we’ll reshoot the scenes again later.”
Muriel stifled a sigh. This was her job, after all. “I can be ready in an hour.”
“Good.” Rex flashed a smile at her. “I’ll be in my tent looking at yesterday’s rushes.”
Rex went through the reel shot by shot. Not bad, but not great, until the scene where the women crossed in front of Muriel. The camera continued rolling, and his pulse quickened. He stuck his head out the tent flap. “Benny!”
The photographer glanced up from where he was overseeing the setup of the cameras and waved.
“You’ve got to see this. And bring Ernie with you.”
Rex paused the film at a screen that showed the water cresting the first level of the cliffs, rustling the branches of the trees it rushed past. Moments later, Benny entered with Ernie Warner, the man responsible for coordinating stunts.
“What is it, boss?” Benny seemed untouched by the previous evening’s excitement. He had found a basin to wash his face and shave his beard, and he was ready to go again. He glanced at the screen and whistled. “You got it.”
In response Rex rolled the film back. “This is when the flood started.”
Watching it from start to finish, Rex relived the moments. In some ways, it was like he was living it for the first time. While it was happening, he was too focused on capturing it on film to feel any terror. Seeing it, he wondered how they had escaped total destruction. His crew had done an amazing job protecting both life and equipment.
Muriel would give the credit to her God, not to the careful preparations and plans for emergencies Rex had put in place as producer and director.
When the film ran out, no one spoke for a moment. “We have to use this in the film,” Benny said. “If you can shoot footage like that, you should be behind the camera, not me.”
Rex smiled, accepting the compliment before he turned his attention to Ernie. “This is great, but I want a context for it. I’m thinking Killdeer rescues Standing Corn from the flood. I want you to arrange a stunt that we can superimpose on this footage.” He backed up the film and pointed to an outcropping at the entrance to the canyon. “Here.”
Ernie leaned forward, staring at the still. Then he opened the flat and stared down the canyon. “It’s still the same. I wondered if yesterday’s flood changed the scenery at all. It doesn’t look like it.” He shook his head. “I guess what is left is pretty sturdy.”
“Like that shrub growing out of the rock over there.” Benny nodded across the way. “I’ll see if I can work that image into the film somewhere.”
Rex grew impatient. “Can you do it?” He made a note in his diary to add it to the film schedule.
The tent flap opened, and Muriel poked her head in.
“Come in. We’re discussing how to use the flood in the film. Ernie’s cooking up a terrific stunt.”
Muriel’s eyes fixed on the screen. “You’re crazy, you know that?” The tone of her voice expressed what her words did not. She was impressed, proud of what he had accomplished.
“Genius or fool, the two go hand in hand.” He took a second look: she had changed out of the costume she had worn yesterday and instead wore a longer wool skirt in an earthy rust color, the color of the rocks in this distant corner of the United States. She wore a matching linen blouse.
“Where did you get that outfit? I haven’t decided on changing costumes yet.”
Muriel lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. “My costume showed the wear and tear of yesterday’s events. Sarah loaned these to me instead. If you wish to wait until my costume is repaired…” She blinked her eyes, eyes that needed little kohl to shine as black as an Indian’s, and smiled.
Fred appeared at that moment. He had also changed into trousers of a similar material to Muriel’s skirt. Benny stood and walked outside the tent. “We’d better get to work while the light is good. Sarah said these late afternoon rains are frequent, although it doesn’t flood often.”
“Next time, the studio.” Rex stood and brushed down his slacks, which only succeeded in dislodging a clump of mud.
“That’s what you say every time.” Benny grinned. “But then you find a way to make it work.”
Trust Benny to help Rex feel better. “That is so true. Let’s get rolling.”
“Cut.”
At Rex’s call, Muriel accepted the chair Sarah pulled out for her in the somewhat cooler shade of the overhang, and handed her a glass of water. They had been filming for three hours nonstop, and the day had passed the midpoint.
“Sarah, if Rex hadn’t already hired you as a consultant, I’d want you as my assistant.” Muriel sipped the water in the glass. Cool, though not cold, liquid slid down her throat, and she emptied the contents in one long drink. Her stomach recoiled, and the muscles in her legs quivered.
“I will do both.” Sarah refilled the glass. With a damp towel, she sponged the top of Muriel’s head. Blessed relief flushed down her neck and arms.
“Be careful of my makeup.” She didn’t want to have to reapply it. The night had left her drained. She blinked her eyes against the stars wanting to dance in front of her eyes.
“Are you waiting in there all day?”
Sarah glanced at the spot where Rex stood, arms akimbo on his hips. “Does he always bark?”
Muriel laughed. “He often does. We have a saying in English…his bark is worse than his bite. Just do your best to ignore him. He appreciates excellence. And now I need to return to work. Thank
you for the refreshment.”
Muriel took her place in front of the camera. They were working on a love scene today.
“Muriel, you must make the audience believe you are in love with your Indian hunter. You must become Standing Corn and greet Killdeer with all the love stored in her heart.”
Muriel counted under her breath. She was a leading lady of stage and film who had played romantic heroines to great acclaim. What more Rex wanted from her, she didn’t know. She could say with all honesty that she didn’t feel well, but Rex didn’t abide excuses. Today she fought light-headedness. It was hard to act when she had to concentrate to stay on her feet.
“Take your cues from Fred. He burns with his passion for you.”
She sighed. “I will try.”
“Once we get this in the can, we’ll break for lunch.”
Muriel shut her eyes, focusing on what she needed to portray. Her failure was holding up a much needed break for everyone.
Once again Fred swept her into his arms. His eyes, darkened with tinted lenses, flamed with desire. His arm held Muriel’s waist in a gesture that implied intimacy. His lips brushed hers.
Heat surged through Muriel at his touch. She sagged in Fred’s arms, rendered lighthearted by his caress. Rex should be pleased. Blackness overcame her senses.
Something soft cushioned Muriel’s head. Someone had loosened the strings on her blouse and cool air brushed her skin.
“Muriel?” Fred’s face flickered over hers. “Are you all right?”
She blinked her eyes and stared at the sky overhead. “What happened?”
“You fainted. In my arms, actually. You didn’t have to go that far for realism.” Fred’s smile was strained.
“Here. Drink.”
Sarah hovered by her side. “It is not wise to go about in this heat. I told Mr. Pride, but he did not listen.”
Heat had engulfed Muriel just prior to her faint, heat that had nothing to do with Fred’s acting or her reaction but with their physical surroundings.
“I haven’t heard that you were subject to fainting fits.” Rex stared at her from the entrance to the tent.
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