Miner's Daughter

by Duncan, Alice

  A mechanical sound started, a tunnel of light flickered from the projector, and images began appearing on the wall. There were several frames of test patterns, and then nothing. Into the nothing, a woman walked.

  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.

  Chapter Five

  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.

  Where had his brain gone begging? Why, why did he care what the ridiculous chit thought of him? Why did it gall him so to know that she despised him? She despised him, for the love of God! She didn’t have two cents to rub together. Why, Tony Ewing could buy her precious mine right out from under her, and she wouldn’t be able to do a damned thing to stop him

  Except bash him with a rock.

  Which made him want to laugh out loud. And then turn her over his knee and spank her the way her father should have done.

  And that was another thing. Her loyalty to a man who’d obviously been deranged irked Tony. It wasn’t a quality with which Tony was familiar, loyalty. He could recall his father, many times, cutting men off at the knees who’d been his staunchest supporters only a short time earlier.

  That’s the way Tony had been taught to believe the world worked.

  Until he’d met Mari Pottersby, who seemed willing to undergo the torments of hell out of loyalty to a dead father who didn’t deserve such reverence. Shoot, if it had been his father—but Tony, shocked by the turn his thoughts had taken, desisted. His father might be a bastard, but he was a shrewd businessman, and Tony honored him for it.

  Not for Maurice Ewing the mawkish sentimentality displayed by Mari for her dead parent. If old Maurice had met Mari’s father, he’d have set him straight with one or two painful home truths. Then he’d have taken the Marigold Mine and done something with it, sending Mari to the poorhouse along with her old man.

  “Do you need another rag?”

  Tony’s troubled thoughts had led him away from the damage Tiny had done to his formerly immaculate summer suit. Mari’s snappish question dragged him back again. “What? Oh.” He glanced down to see that he’d been rubbing one dirty patch of his left shoulder for several seconds without paying attention to his job. “Yes, I guess so.” Because she irked him so damned much, he frowned at her.

  She frowned back. “Here.” She thrust a rag at him.

  “Watch out!” He jumped back too late to avoid soapy water dripping onto the knee of his trousers. “Damn it, are you determined to drown me today, or what?”

  “Oh, stop whining. Anybody with an ounce of sense knows better than to wear light colors out here in the desert.”

  Tony practically threw his old rag at her as he grabbed the wet one out of her outstretched hand. “That’s nonsense. Light colors reflect the sun. You’re wearing white.” S
o there.

  She lifted that stubborn chin of hers and glared into his eyes. Her own eyes looked large and luminous in the blazing sunlight. How did she always manage to look so clean and cool in this ghastly climate? She was probably used to it. Tony started in on his other shoulder. When he squinted down at the one he’d just scrubbed, his temper spurted up again. These rags of hers were doing no good.

  “I may wear white, but I’m not silly enough to wear a fancy city suit out here,” she retorted.

  “Of course not,” Tony growled through his teeth. “You don’t have one.” He added furiously, “Drat, this will never come clean.”

  “Fiddlesticks.”

  Nevertheless, she appeared doubtful as she viewed his jacket. She even tutted softly. “Take it off, will you? Let me look at it. Maybe I can soak it clean or something.”

  “I don’t trust you,” he said nastily.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake!”

  “Listen, Miss Pottersby, it isn’t my dog that attacks visitors and mauls them—and don’t tell me he doesn’t maul people, either. Your dog’s a menace. It ought to be destroyed.” Tony would never, ever destroy a dog for being friendly, even if it was too large and too exuberant. His annoyance with Mari, however, was so great that his tongue ran away with his better sense. He’d seldom spoken rashly to anyone either, because he’d always been a prudent man. Until now.

  Mari drew away from him as if his very presence offended her; as if he were a monster out of her worst nightmare. Her lower lip trembled. Tony watched fascinated.

  “You-you wouldn’t.” The words were only a hoarse scrape against the blistering air.

  Good God, she was going to cry. Tony couldn’t believe his eyes.

  “You beast.” She swiped a hand across her cheek as if she were mad at herself for succumbing to tears. “You can’t hurt Tiny.”

  Probably true. Hell, he didn’t even want to. He was only peeved with himself for allowing the dog to get the better of him. He actually kind of liked Tiny. He was a good dog. And friendly. A little too friendly, given his size.