The Silver Star

by Gilbert, Morris

“Oh, it’s over. We finished yesterday.” Priscilla took a bite of the cake, sipped the hot chocolate, and drew her lips back quickly. “That’s hot!” she exclaimed. “But very good.” She sipped more cautiously, then cocked her head and said, “I’m glad it’s over. I like to ride a horse, but one picture after another is too many.”

  “You have made a lot of them this year, haven’t you? Almost nonstop.” Dorothy’s voice was sympathetic, and she leaned back in her chair, studying her actress friend carefully. Dorothy was wearing a light blue cotton dress with a scooped neckline edged with delicately embroidered white flowers. The short, puffy sleeves had the same flowers, and her waist was cinched in by a wide white belt. When Priscilla commented on how pretty her dress was, she shrugged her shoulders. “I got it a week ago. It is rather nice, but tell me more about the pictures. Are you going to do another one?”

  Priscilla hesitated. She toyed with the cup of hot chocolate, turning it nervously in her hands. She was unhappy, or perhaps uncertain, and her manner showed it. “I’m tired of doing the same old thing, Dorothy.”

  “But didn’t you do the same old thing in New York? I mean, every night you put on the same play.”

  “Plays don’t last forever. Every one of these westerns is just like every other one. I couldn’t tell you the last five we made.”

  “But they’re successful, aren’t they?”

  “Oh yes. Very much so. I can’t complain about that. Imperial’s been very generous, but it’s so boring.”

  The children came in at that moment and demanded Priscilla’s attention. Climbing up in her lap, Phillip began playing with a string of beads she had about her neck, and Amelia stood on the couch and touched her earrings softly with an inquiring hand.

  “I can’t believe they’ve grown so much in a year. Phillip’s almost two, and Amelia’s going on four.”

  “I know. They grow up so fast. Amelia, don’t pull on that earring. You’ll hurt Miss Priscilla.”

  “I wasn’t pulling, Mama!” Amelia protested. “I didn’t hurt you, did I, Priscilla?”

  “No you didn’t, sweetheart. Would you like to try these on?” She grinned at the child, who nodded enthusiastically. Unscrewing the earrings, Priscilla carefully put them on the girl’s tiny lobes and laughed as Amelia ran away to view herself in the mirror. “I don’t have any earrings for you, Phillip.”

  “Let’s go see the birdies,” he begged, tugging at Priscilla’s beads.

  “I just may do that. Would you like to go, Dorothy?”

  “Yes, I would,” Dorothy said quickly. “You run along, Phillip. We’ll walk down to the park after Priscilla and I finish our cocoa.” She watched as he left the room protesting and finally shook her head. “He’d argue with a signpost, that child! I don’t know who he gets it from. Maybe my father. He was pretty much like that.”

  For the next few minutes, as they finished their cocoa and cake, they talked about the children. But then Priscilla said, “You had a wonderful year. In two weeks it will be a full year since you’ve been here. I know you’re pleased and happy with the way the church has grown.”

  A shadow seemed to cross Dorothy’s face. She put her cup down, laced her fingers together, and said in a rather flat voice, “Yes, the church has grown wonderfully.”

  Something in the other woman’s tone struck Priscilla, and she inquired gently, “Is something wrong, Dorothy? I thought things were going so well.”

  “Oh, there’s nothing wrong. I’m just being foolish.” Dorothy put her cup down and moved nervously around the room. “This is such a beautiful home. The most beautiful I’ve ever had, and after traveling around, living in dingy apartments and little crackerbox houses in out-of-the-way places like Kansas, it’s just heaven. I even have a maid come in three times a week to help.”

  “It is a beautiful home,” Priscilla said.

  “I know. I’m not complaining. It’s just that—”

  When the other woman broke off abruptly, Priscilla rose, put her cup down, and came over to her. Putting her arm around Dorothy, she asked gently, “What is it? Is there trouble?”

  Turning to face Priscilla, Dorothy hesitated, then said in a low voice, “It’s just that—well, Andrew’s never here, Priscilla. And the church takes all of his time.” She saw Priscilla starting to answer and shook her head, saying, “Oh, I know. It’s a big job he’s taken on, and the church has nearly doubled under his leadership. And with getting the new building program through, and all of the programs he started for young people, he’s done a marvelous job, but . . .” She bit her lip nervously and shook her head again. “I hardly see him at all, Priscilla, and I get lonely.”

  “But you do a lot of church work. You’re on a lot of the committees.”

  “Oh, that. That goes with being a pastor’s wife, but I mean the nights he’s gone to a meeting and I come home and take care of the children, and he doesn’t come home sometimes until after midnight.” Abruptly she looked up and gave a halfhearted laugh. “I shouldn’t complain. I’ve never had such pleasant surroundings in my life. Come. Let’s go to the park.”

  Their visit to the park was pleasant, although the wind was gusting again, but there was a lack of ease in Dorothy that troubled Priscilla. She said no more about the problem, but after she left to go to the studio, she said to herself, “I’ve got to do something, but I don’t know what. It wouldn’t be right for me to go tell Andrew that he’s not paying enough attention to his family.” Then a thought came to her and she nodded. “I’ll ask Cass to do it. They’ve gotten really close over the past year. I think Andrew would take it from another man.”

  ****

  Jolie had been wandering around the waterfront fascinated by the beautiful yachts and smaller boats that came sailing in and out over the emerald green water. The last reel had been shot on Western Sunset, the last western produced by Imperial, and she was taking a forced vacation. It gave her a greedy, rich feeling to have money in her pocket. Aside from her room and board, and a few clothes, she had spent practically nothing but saved all of her wages. Now as she walked along the beach enjoying the brilliance of the sun glittering on the water and the white-capped waves crashing on the shore, she suddenly felt a pang of loneliness. For the past year she had been so busy helping as Imperial cranked out one “odor”—as the pictures came to be called because of their use of horses—after another, she had had little time to relax. After her years of hardship and even brutality at the hands of her stepfather, just to be able to wake up in the morning and know that she had a warm room, money for food and clothes, and a job at which she had become quite proficient was truly satisfying.

  Leaving the beach, she wandered among the shops that lined the streets. Most of them were one-story buildings. The large office buildings were farther south. She stopped in front of a dress shop and studied the latest fashions. Moved by a sudden impulse, she went inside, where she was met by a white-haired woman with a pleasant smile.

  “May I help you, miss?”

  “Would it be all right if I tried on that dress in the window? The blue one with the striped skirt?”

  “Why, of course it would. I think we would have it in your size. What size do you wear?”

  “I . . . don’t know.”

  The woman’s eyebrows rose, but she smiled even more broadly. “Well, come along and we’ll soon find out. The blue one, you say?”

  “Yes, and the hat, too, please.”

  The clerk soon brought the garment and left Jolie alone to put it on. She quickly removed her dress, beneath which she was wearing a knitted cotton chemise with cotton hose, and slipped on the garment. She stepped outside to look at herself in the full-length mirror, and the clerk came over to make a few adjustments.

  “Why, that looks lovely,” the woman said. It was a two-piece outfit consisting of a muslin shirtwaist of dark blue and a printed striped skirt with alternating blue and white stripes. The skirt came down six inches above the ankles, and the clerk watched as Jolie fingered th
e wide white collar, then placed the straw hat with a matching band of blue and white stripes on her head.

  “Tilt it just a little bit this way,” the clerk said. She tightened the white belt and pushed the sleeves up, saying, “They wear them like this usually.” Stepping back, admiration came to her eyes. “You look very nice in that. It’s made for a young woman with a figure like yours.”

  Jolie flushed at the woman’s words. Her figure had filled out over the past year, and as she turned she saw that the garment followed the contours of her body in a very pleasing manner. She was somewhat shocked but also delighted at the difference the dress made to her appearance. Her other dresses were rather shapeless, but this one showed off her figure to the best advantage.

  “Now, if you just wore some white stockings and a pair of white low-heeled shoes, you would be ready for any outdoor exercise,” the clerk smiled.

  “How much would the shoes be?” Jolie asked.

  “Let’s try them on, and we’ll see the whole outfit together.” Jolie loved the dress, and when she had donned the white stockings and a pair of low-quarter, lace-up shoes, she knew she had to have it.

  “I’ll take it,” she said, opening her reticule to pay for the outfit.

  “Fine. You’re lucky to be just the right size. Some young girls are too short or too tall, or too heavy or too thin, but you look like you were made for a dress like this. It fits you perfectly.”

  Ten minutes later, Jolie walked out of the shop wearing her new outfit and carrying a bundle with her old clothes. Jolie felt strange. She had never bought anything for herself in the way of clothing except underwear and stockings. Now as she walked in the sunshine, she suddenly became aware of a young man leaning against the corner lamppost who had fastened his eyes on her. As she passed by, he let loose a low whistle and said, “Hello. Going my way?”

  A thrill went through Jolie, although she had been approached before by young men. She ignored him and proceeded down the boulevard. Wanting Peter to see her new outfit, Jolie walked to the movie lot, which took the better part of an hour. A cool breeze made the walk pleasant and kept her from getting hot. When she got there, she went around to the back of the house. As she had suspected, Peter was underneath the beginnings of a car, banging away loudly. She stood watching for a moment, then called out, “Peter?”

  The banging stopped, and Peter came skidding out from under the car. After he stood to his feet, he paused abruptly. His eyes flew open and he whistled on a low note. “Well,” he said with approval, “I see you’ve been shopping. Turn around. Let me see you.” He watched with admiration as Jolie pirouetted back and forth, noting that whenever possible she kept her scarred cheek turned away from him. “You look beautiful, Jolie,” he said. “You’re absolutely a knockout.”

  His words brought a pleased expression to Jolie’s blue eyes, and she said, “Why, thank you. I thought it was pretty. It’s the first dress I ever bought by myself,” she confessed, smiling at him. He was wearing a pair of greasy overalls worn thin by much wear and had an oil smear over his right eyebrow. “How’s the car coming?” she asked. “I thought Easy would be here working with you.”

  “He’s gone to try to find a piston for the engine, but I doubt if he will.”

  Jolie came closer and suddenly stooped low and looked underneath the car. It was rough looking with a boxy body and four large balloon tires. The engine sat directly on the frame in front of the seat, which was large enough for two drivers. “What are you doing to the engine?” she asked.

  “Well, nothing really,” Peter said. “But you see, most cars transmit the power from the engine to the wheels with a chain and sprocket.”

  “You mean like on bicycles?”

  “That’s right!” Peter nodded. “But a few years ago a fellow named Louis Renault found a way to get rid of the chain drive. He put a shaft in and a gearbox, and that’s what we’ve done here. You see that long rod running there? That’s the prop shaft. The engine turns over, which turns the shaft, and that’s what turns the wheel.”

  “But I don’t see how it works,” Jolie said. She turned her head half upside down to stare underneath, and her hat fell off. She snatched it up but continued to stare. “The shaft is turning round and round this way, and the wheels go this way in a different direction.”

  Peter glanced at her with surprise. “That’s right, Jolie. That’s why we have to have a gearbox that changes the direction of the power. It’s pretty new, but soon all cars are going to be made like this.”

  “I expect Mr. Renault made a lot of money from this invention.”

  “Well, he would have, but he was killed. He and his mechanic ran into a tree in the Paris-Madrid Race. They were driving a car made something like this one, but they had a streak of bad luck.”

  A shudder seemed to come to Jolie’s deep blue eyes, and she gave Peter a sudden strange look. “I wish you wouldn’t take chances when you get the car going, but I know you will. That’s the way you are, Peter.”

  “I’ll be all right,” he said. “Come on.” He picked up a cloth, wiped his hands off, and said, “Let’s go get one of those newfangled drinks. What do they call ’em—Coca-Colas?”

  He led her to a soda fountain two blocks away, chatting all the time about the car he was working on. When they got to the drugstore, they seated themselves on chairs made out of wire and propped their elbows on a marble-topped table. He ordered two Cokes, and they sat there and sipped the strange-tasting concoction. “These things will never go over,” he said. “I don’t like them.”

  Jolie sipped her drink, and finally after a time she said, “Peter, there’s something I want to do.”

  “Like what, Jolie?”

  “I’m so ignorant. I only went to school through the fifth grade, and I don’t know anything.” She looked up at him with a longing in her eyes that moved him. “I don’t want to be ignorant. Somehow I want to learn, but I don’t know how.”

  Peter shifted on the chair, his brow wrinkled. Finally he said, “Well, we’ll find something. Let me think about it.”

  “All right, Peter.”

  They finished their drinks and started walking back toward the bunkhouse, and he cut his eyes around, taking in her trim figure in the new dress. “You’ve grown up.” He smiled and touched her arm. “I’ve been watching Harley Potter chase around after you. He really thinks you’re something.”

  Harley Potter was one of the many workhands employed by Imperial Pictures. He was a sturdy young man who moved heavy furniture and large props around with apparent ease.

  “Is he going to be your steady fella, Jolie?”

  “He doesn’t like me,” Jolie shrugged. “He just wants to use me.”

  The blunt statement uttered so matter-of-factly sent a shock through Peter. It came to him suddenly that this young woman had had a much rougher life than he had and she had learned to fend for herself. He cleared his throat and said, “Well, you shouldn’t be going out with fellows like him, anyway.”

  Jolie did not answer but began at once to talk of something else. Before long she decided she needed to get back and left just before Easy returned, without the part he had gone in search of. Both men watched Jolie disappearing down the street.

  “Good-looking girl, ain’t she?” Easy said. “If only she didn’t have that scar. She thinks about that all the time.”

  “Yes, she does,” Peter said. “We’re going to have to see a doctor or something, Easy, and get that taken care of. She deserves a break in life.”

  ****

  It was late afternoon and Cass was walking with Priscilla between two rows of orange trees. The wind had shifted, and he was enthusiastic as he showed her how the trees were growing in the grove. “I’m going to buy two more fields and put in young trees,” he said.

  “Do you have the money?”

  “Well, no, but I’ve been in to talk to Harold Parsley at the bank. It won’t be any trouble to get a loan. I’ll have to put the place up for security, thou
gh.”

  “I hate to see you do that. I don’t have much, but I think Uncle Mark would be glad to lend it to you.”

  “I hate to ask the favor,” Cass shrugged. He was an independent young man, wanting to stand on his own two feet. His move to Los Angeles to own and operate an orange grove had been a gamble, but Cass Winslow was determined to succeed, and he was not about to change his mind.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Dorothy, Cass.”

  “Dorothy? What about her?”

  “She’s not happy. I visited her this morning, and she didn’t complain, you understand, but I could tell that she’s troubled.” She hesitated, not knowing how to put the matter, and finally stopped and looked at her brother. He turned around to face her, and she said quietly, “It’s Andrew. He’s so caught up with the church work that he’s neglecting her and the children. She’s lonely, Cass. I wanted to go and talk to him, but I don’t think it would be right for a woman. But I think he’d listen to you. Would you go talk to him?”

  Cass removed his cap and ran his hand through his hair. His face turned into a grimace, and he said, “I’d feel odd doing that, sis. After all, he’s my pastor. I’m the one who needs looking after.”

  “I think pastors need looking after, too, and he is our cousin. Anyway, you think about it. I think it’s serious. Andrew’s a wonderful pastor—but he gets so caught up with the ministry that he forgets the more important things.”

  Cass nodded abruptly. “Okay, I’ll do it. I don’t know how he’ll take it, though. Most men don’t like to be corrected on the way they carry on their lives, but I’ll try it, sis.”

  “Thanks, Cass.”

  “What about you? Are you happy with what you’re doing?”

  “Not really. I’m about ready to give it up.” When she saw his look of surprise, she added, “It’s just the same thing every day. Don’t worry about it, though. I can always go back to New York and get a job in a play.”

  “I hate to see you do that, sis.” He put his arm around her and squeezed her. A smile caused a dimple to appear on the right side of his cheek. “I need you around here. Don’t be running off. Something will come up.”