The Rainbow's Foot

by Denise Dietz

  “Yes.”

  “Isn’t she lovely? I adored her from the start, and she said she’d talk to the director and get me hired for a small role. She calls me by my first name . . . my new name . . . Jane.”

  “So you’re the pretty actress I’m supposed to meet tonight. How are Tonna and Black Percy?”

  “Tonna’s the same. She never changes. I think they’d like to leave the ranch, but Percy frets over Papa and stays to care for him.”

  “Daniel?”

  “He’s taking instruction for the priesthood. A silent order.”

  “I’m not surprised. Do you have a steady fellow?”

  “No. Do you have a steady lady friend? Whatever happened to the girl you brought to our ranch?”

  “Ruthie Adams?” He shrugged. “She just . . . disappeared.”

  “Bridgida?”

  Shifting Janey from his lap to the chair, Cat walked to the window-wall and stared out at the gray-tinged, bloated clouds. “Bridgida’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry. You liked her a lot, didn’t you? I’m sorry I cried just now, too. I couldn’t cry at Mother’s funeral, not one tear. It wasn’t that she was cruel to me, but she had no love for any living person except Luke. She was so cold, Cat, even before she froze to death.”

  “What are your plans?” he asked, hoping to change the subject. Later he’d chew over Dimity’s death.

  “I thought I might stay at this hotel, but they’re full-up. Then I thought about living at the ranch, traveling back and forth . . .” She paused, one eyebrow arched.

  He could take a hint. “Would you like to stay here with me?”

  “Could I really?” She jumped up, her excitement palpable. “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “I insist.”

  “Might we pretend we’re not related?”

  “No. We’d be sharing a hotel suite and there’d be talk. Your reputation—”

  “Hang my reputation! I want to make it in the movies as Jane Percival, not John Chinook’s sister.”

  Cat walked toward her, admiring her honey-brown curls and dark-lashed, amber eyes. Maybe it was a good idea to install her inside his suite without revealing their kinship. Once the actors and crew took a good look at her, she’d be a baby lamb surrounded by hungry wolves. If they stayed together, Cat could protect her. When the others learned she’d hooked up with John Chinook, they’d leave her alone.

  What about his damnfool wager? Fools Gold would not only not swoon with rapture, she’d beat a hasty retreat.

  Fools Gold or Janey?

  “Will you share my suite, Miss Percival?”

  “I accept with pleasure, Mr. Chinook.”

  Cat had a sudden thought. “Luke!”

  “Luke won’t care, not so long as Tonna serves him a full dinner plate. Most of the time he ignores me.”

  “What if we run into him and he gives you away? You said he’s established a friendship with Ned Lytton.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that, but I’m not gonna fret. I’ll just keep my eyes open. Right now I need to close my eyes and take a nap. I saw Flower before I found you, and she invited me to a party. She said I could borrow one of her gowns since my own clothes are still at the ranch. She insisted on sewing a hem because she’s so much taller. Can you imagine? A famous movie star altering one of her beautiful gowns for a nobody?”

  “You’re not a nobody. You’re Jane Percival.” Cat tugged one glossy curl. “Maybe Flower remembers her own humble beginnings.”

  “Humble beginnings? She’s the granddaughter of a French duke, isn’t she?”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “I think she’s wonderful, but I’m not sure about her husband’s son. I need rest so I can be on my toes when I meet Ned Lytton tonight. I know it’s not fair, but I have a feeling I won’t like him. If Ned’s a friend of Luke’s, he must have flaws. Does that sound silly?”

  “No, it sounds sensible. To be perfectly honest, I have the same damn feeling.”

  * * * * *

  Ned Lytton met Lucas McDonald at a small Klan gathering. The introduction was made by Richard Reed, who had persuaded fifteen men to follow him to the summit of a boulder deep within the Rocky Mountains. There, they all knelt before an American flag and a burning cross and dedicated themselves to their Invisible Empire.

  Ned wasn’t impressed by the young man’s appearance. His light-brown hair looked limp and greasy. His pale-blue eyes seemed lost between an expanse of balding forehead and fat cheeks. An enormous belly ended at heavy thighs. His shirt and trousers were stained with food.

  His first words were polite but ominous. “Ned Lytton. I know all about you.”

  “Lytton is a significant member of our Empire,” Richard said judiciously.

  Watching Richard walk away, attempting a superior smile, Ned turned toward Lucas. “Tell me about yourself, McDonald.”

  “That’s not important, Ned. Can I call you Ned?”

  Insolent puppy! “Of course, especially since we’ll be working together as Kleagles.”

  “Kleagles?”

  “Kleagles recruit new members.”

  “I’ll enjoy working with you, Ned, yes indeed.”

  The words sounded right, but the boy’s demeanor looked all wrong. “You’ve heard about the fees, Lucas?”

  “Call me Luke. What fees?”

  “Klectoken. Kleagles keep eight out of the ten-dollar membership fee.”

  “She was very pretty. I saw her when she visited my ranch. She was wet and she smelled awful and her face was sunburned, but she was pretty just the same.”

  “Who?”

  “Ruthie Adams.” Luke glanced around, lowered his voice. “Wasn’t that her last name, Ned? Adams? I heard my mother say it. Ruthie Adams. My brother’s whore.”

  * * * * *

  Ned paced up and down Suzette Dorfman’s bedroom. Suzette would return soon from a shopping expedition. Her present wardrobe was all wrong—a tart’s wardrobe rather than a maid’s wardrobe.

  Ned’s stomach churned as he thought about Lucas witnessing Ruthie’s murder. Luke Lytton had been outside the miner’s shack and spied through the broken window.

  Luke didn’t want money, thank God. Ned’s funds were as shallow as the grave he’d dug for Ruthie. Luke wanted revenge. John Chinook was—in reality—Cat McDonald, Luke’s brother. Luke had once overheard a conversation between his mother, now dead, and Chinook. Ned didn’t have the vaguest idea what that conversation consisted of since Luke said he wouldn’t spill his guts, even if tortured.

  Ned would love to test that premise.

  To his surprise, Luke also wanted to get his hands on Flower. He said his brother “owed” him Flower, in exchange for someone named Bridgida.

  Flower’s real name was Fools Gold, a fact Ned had already discovered. But he hadn’t probed deep enough, hadn’t learned that she was the daughter of a Cripple Creek parlor house girl. Luke had heard Ruthie say “Fools Gold” and had hired a retired Pinkerton to investigate.

  Ned couldn’t face his father with this new revelation. Edward had changed his will, leaving Flower his vast fortune. Ned wanted his father alive, at least for the moment, and the lowdown on his wife might shock him into a fatal heart attack.

  Inheriting Father’s estate was important, but Richard Reed said it was even more crucial that Ned gain control of Dollyscope. That way, the Ku Klux Klan could produce propaganda films. Look how Birth of a Nation had furthered their cause. Inspired by Thomas Dixon’s novel, The Clansman, Griffith’s movie had been responsible for a phenomenal increase in Klan membership.

  If everything went as planned, Ned would soon run Dollyscope and select his own actors and scripts. Suzette insisted that all successful schemes took careful planning and patience.

  Soon Flower would interview servants for Aguila del Oro’s staff. Luke and Ned had decided to install Suzette inside the mansion. Edward would transfer his money, stocks, and the new will to Aguila del Oro’s safe. Suzette would discover the whereabout
s of that safe. Once the will was in Ned’s hands, subject to alteration and a forged signature, Luke could have Flower. How Chinook figured in all this, Ned didn’t know and Luke wouldn’t say.

  If Suzette wasn’t clever enough to get hired, they’d have to think up another scheme. But Suzette was clever. She’d even managed to entertain both Ned and Luke with her incredibly talented body.

  After the debacle with Ruthie, Suzette was the perfect companion. For starters, she had no interest in a movie career. She had beautiful hair, but her pale-blue eyes wouldn’t photograph well and some of her teeth were missing.

  Ned had privately hired a down-at-the-heels rodeo wrangler to rob Flower’s suite. Johanna said Flower carelessly placed her valuable jewels inside a music box. Ned needed those jewels to replenish his funds. If the thief found Edward’s will, so much the better.

  Twenty-Nine

  Flo’s scheme had worked perfectly. It was love at first sight, and Cat even shared his hotel suite with Jane Percival.

  So why did she feel betrayed? Because she had underestimated Cat’s charms and overestimated Jane’s innocence?

  Cat had taken to treating “Flower” like a rare orchid. At the same time, he was sarcastically deferential toward Claude DuBois.

  Now Claude was calling his actors together, preparing to issue orders for the next scene.

  They had been filming for three days. The weather was beautiful—Indian summer—and Claude had decided he’d shoot their last scenes first, including the flood episode where the hero rescued the heroine. Flo still seethed over the altered concept, even though she knew the public would never accept John Chinook in a subservient role.

  The lion’s share of the story took place during the winter, but Claude said they might as well take advantage of the fine weather and film their summer scenes straight away. Today’s reel entailed the finding of gold by Minta and her fiancé, William. The discovery would turn out to be fool’s gold, leading to William’s reluctant abandonment of Minta. In the revised plot, Minta was the orphaned daughter of a minister.

  Flo had argued over Minta’s new status until she was blue in the face, but Edward agreed with Claude. A movie heroine must be pure. Only in books could she be naughty.

  “Define pure, Claude,” Flo had said during a luncheon meeting inside Edward’s suite.

  “Purity goes without saying, never referred to except by the color of the heroine’s dress, white, or at the moment when her chastity is menaced. Define pure? That’s easy. Mary Pickford, Blanche Sweet, Arlene Pretty, Louise Lovely.”

  “Define naughty.”

  “Theda Bara.”

  Flo had burst out laughing. “Theda Bara is an anagram for Arab Death. Did you know that her given name is Theodosia Goodman and she hails from Ohio?”

  Apparently, Claude hadn’t known. Furious, he had shouted, “Defloration! That’s how you define naughty.”

  Today they were filming in Cripple Creek, at the site of a deserted mine shaft. Claude carried a megaphone, but since the scene only involved John Chinook and Flower Smith, he didn’t use it. “The cameras will focus on the mine entrance,” he said. “When you emerge, Flower’s hair must be mussed and her clothing in disarray.”

  Flo smiled. All their love scenes were directed that way. Except for a brief, chaste kiss before the final fade-out, Minta and William’s frequent clinches occurred off-screen.

  “Flower, you must show excitement at the thought of sighting gold because William will stay and you will become a rich lady.”

  She nodded.

  “Any questions, Chinook?”

  “Just one. Shouldn’t William express his delight with a natural caress outside the cave?”

  Flo’s brow creased. “What do you consider natural?”

  “A hug. Perhaps a fondling of your earlobe.”

  “Everybody knows what happened inside the cave. We must trust our audience.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How do you know I won’t caress your earlobe out of camera range?”

  “The filming has just begun. If you caress any part of my body, I’ll make certain Edward replaces you with a new costar. Read the morality clause in your contract, Mr. Chinook.”

  Cat’s green eyes crinkled at the corners. “That so-called morality clause doesn’t include an earlobe, but I’ll play by the rules. Are you ready?”

  “Yes. How many takes, Claude?”

  “Three, possibly four. I want to shoot different angles, and there are shadows at the entrance. Ready? Action!”

  When they emerged from the mine, Flo was momentarily blinded by sunlight.

  “Cut!” Claude yelled. “I don’t mean to complain, Flower, but you ruined Minta’s close-up by blinking like a rabbit.”

  “I know. It’s so dark inside. Wouldn’t William carry a light? Perhaps a lantern?”

  “How about a candle? We don’t have a lantern and I’d rather not waste time sending for one.”

  “A candle’s fine. What do you think, John?”

  Cat stood at the mine’s entrance. Ignoring Flo’s question, he said, “Have you checked out the support timbers, DuBois? They seem unsteady.”

  “Of course I checked. Do you think I’d send Flower inside if the mine was unsafe?”

  “All right, let’s get this over with.” Cat struck a match on his boot heel and lit the candle.

  They entered. Almost immediately, Flo saw a brownish-gray mouse scurry across the dirt. Another lagged behind, dragging its foot. “Oh, look. The poor thing’s wounded. Oh, the poor little mouse.”

  “Don’t touch it, honey. It’s probably covered with fleas.”

  Flo had begun bending, but Cat pushed her away. Off balance, she stumbled against the wall. She heard a creak like an old rocking chair, then the sound of a rushing waterfall.

  No, more like thunder, she thought. I hate thunder.

  Another rumble, and another, except there was no flash of lightning and the raindrops were pelting pebbles.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed her hands against her ears and screamed, then screamed again when Cat pushed her to the ground and covered her body with his.

  Opening her eyes, she inhaled dust. Cat was touching her all over. She pushed him off and staggered to her feet, her legs as shaky as a newborn calf. “What do you think you’re doing, Cat McDonald?”

  “Checking for broken bones. Are you all right, Fools Gold?”

  “Yes. Are you?”

  “Sure. During my rodeo days I jumped through hoops of fire and dogged bulls with my teeth. What’s a mere cave-in?”

  “Is that what happened? A cave-in?” She heard a scratchy sound and watched him hold a match to the wick of their candle. “Your face is covered with dirt, Cat. You look like a minstrel.”

  “You, too.” With his free hand, he retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and thrust it toward her. “Spit,” he said.

  Momentarily their eyes locked and they smiled, remembering.

  “Mama Min hated that word,” she said. “Never mind the rest of my face. Let’s go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Out.”

  “Are you ordering me to escort you outside?”

  “Of course not. But you have the candle. You must lead the way.”

  “Don’t you know what a cave-in means? The walls came tumbling down, just like one of D.W. Griffith’s biblical epics. There’s no outside. There’s no entrance or exit.”

  “But there must be. If we were trapped, the candle wouldn’t burn.”

  “The candle is burning from oxygen already in this chamber. Look around. What do you see? Dirt walls. The ceiling’s still there because the interior beams are stronger. The cave-in must have occurred at the mine’s entrance. I hope your damn mice survived.”

  “Wait! I see a narrow cut in the wall. Perhaps it leads to an escape.”

  “I suspect it leads farther into the cave but I’ll explore. Stay here. There might be bats.”


  Surrounded by darkness once again, Flo could hear time passing, measured by the pounding of her heart. She was breathing too fast, panting, and the walls were closing in on her. After what seemed an eternity, she saw the candle flicker as Cat wedged his broad shoulders through the small opening and shook off the dirt like a spaniel shaking off water.

  “What did you find?”

  “I’m sorry, Fools Gold.”

  “Nothing? No way out?”

  “Relax. DuBois and the crew must be digging. They’ll rescue us.”

  “How long will it take? How much air do we have left? When will the candle go out?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not a miner.” Cat pressed her face against his chest.

  “Are we going to die?” she murmured into his shirt.

  “Are you afraid to die?”

  “No.”

  “Liar,” he said softly.

  “Are you?”

  “Since the age of seventeen, I’ve been afraid to live.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t plan to relate the sad tale of—”

  “Cat, the air’s all gone. I can’t breathe.”

  “Calm down.” He released her, dripped wax over a rock, set the candle upright, and sat propped against the wall. Pulling her into his lap, he stroked her back. “The air isn’t gone. If you don’t get upset, it should last until we’re found. Meanwhile, we can play earlobe.”

  “Don’t tease. I can’t even hear them digging. It’s not that I’m afraid to die. It’s just . . .”

  “Just what?”

  “I’ve never slept with a man,” she blurted. “If I die I’ll never feel passion or ecstasy. I’ll never have a child. Dear God, I’ve never really been kissed.”

  “Liar!” This time the word was a shout.

  “Why do you say I lie? What do you know about my life?”

  “I know that you left Little Heaven for another parlor house. Madam Robin told me when I returned, six, maybe seven months after your birthday party. I had some boyhood notion about rescuing you from a life of degradation. Instead, you found your own protector. If you’ve never felt passion, you must have successfully feigned that emotion. Jack Gottlieb appeared satisfied.”