Tony didn’t say anything to Martin when he spotted Mari Pottersby tramping up to the hotel, carrying a bundle. He presumed the bundle was his jacket, and he wondered if she’d managed to fix it. He doubted it.
Not that he gave a rap on a personal level. What did he care about one measly jacket? Hell, he had enough money to buy Bloomingdales.
Since her dog had attacked him, Tony’s grudge against Mari had been growing by the hour, however. He wanted her to suffer for the animal’s unseemly behavior. He couldn’t have said why, although he thought it might have something to do with her illogical loyalty, her damnable lack of respect for him and his money, and her smart mouth.
It was a pretty mouth.
Damn, he hadn’t meant to admit that.
“Say, Tony, isn’t that Miss Pottersby?”
Tony squinted at Martin and acquitted him of subtlety. Martin’s open, honest face didn’t betray a hint of sarcasm. Well, and why should he be sarcastic? It was Tony who had the problem with the Pottersby wench, not Martin. Martin didn’t ever have problems with anybody.
“Yeah. I think it is.” He spoke casually, as if the two men were chatting about espying a lone eagle in the sky. In Mari Pottersby’s case, it was more like a lone buzzard. Which might be why Tony often felt like carrion in her presence.
She was a graceful buzzard, though. Even though the weather stank—the rusty thermometer hanging outside the Mojave Inn’s back door registered 105 degrees—her back remained straight, and she seemed to glide across the dusty ground. Tony wished she were ugly. It would be so much easier to hate her if she weren’t so darned pretty.
At least she wore a hat this afternoon. Evidently, not even she could tackle the mid-afternoon desert heat without headgear. She might even turn out to be human. Maybe. Unlikelier things had transpired. Or so he’d been told.
While Tony was still sneering, Martin rose from his chair and called out a cheery greeting “Good afternoon, Miss Pottersby! Good to see you. Let me get some iced lemonade for you. You must be dying of heat prostration if you’ve walked all the way here from your home.”
Her home. Tony very nearly snorted. If that painfully rustic cabin was a home, Tony’d eat his hat.
Mari trod lightly up the steps of the porch and gave Martin a friendly smile. “Thanks. I’m dry as a bone and awfully hot.” She ignored Tony.
“You really ought to allow us to drive you around, Miss Pottersby,” Martin said. “We’ve got cars and drivers, and it would save you a good deal of walking in the heat.”
“That’s okay, thanks. I can’t afford to get soft.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll be right back.” Martin took off, gracious man that he was, to fetch Mari some lemonade.
She hadn’t said boo to Tony. Tony noted this lapse in particular and resented it. It occurred to him that he hadn’t spoken to her, either, but he quickly thrust the thought aside. He wasn’t the one at fault here, after all.
He observed with interest as Mari watched Martin until he was out of sight then took a deep breath, as if she were preparing herself for an unpleasant task. She turned and looked down at him, since he hadn’t bothered to rise politely, as a gentleman ought to do when a lady approached. He justified his bad manners by telling himself Mari wasn’t a lady.
Thrusting the folded lump of fabric at him, Mari said abruptly, “Here. I’m afraid I ruined it.”
Tony finally pried himself out of his chair. Only when he was standing did he take the jacket from Mari’s hands. He didn’t speak until he’d flapped the folds out and held the jacket at arm’s length for inspection.
“It shrank,” he noted in a neutral tone.
She clasped her hands behind her back. If she’d been wearing trousers, Tony had no doubt she’d have stuffed them into her pockets. “Um, I noticed that.”
He glanced from the jacket to her. “What am I supposed to do with this? I can’t wear it.”
“Um, I don’t know. Donate it to charity?”
“The stain didn’t come out of the right shoulder, either,” he pointed out.
“I know. But a poor person probably wouldn’t care.”
“I’m not a poor person.”
It was very interesting to Tony to watch the way Mari operated. Now, for instance, she was barely containing hot retorts to his innocent comments. She looked rather like a pot about to boil over. Her face, a beautiful golden-tan color from the sun, had taken on a deeper reddish cast, and her gorgeous eyes had thinned ominously.
“I know you’re not poor.” Her tone of voice had become harder, too, and she was clipping her words. “Most poor people can’t afford to care about a tiny stain or two.”
“Tiny?” Tony lifted the jacket and held out the right shoulder so it was a mere inch away from Mari’s pretty eyes. “That doesn’t look tiny to me. Although,” he added smugly, “Tiny did it.”
She expelled a huff that made the jacket’s arm flutter. “Darn it, I know Tiny did it. I’ll pay you back.”
“Oh?” Tony flipped the jacket away from him it landed half on and half off the chair he’d vacated. He watched Mari watch the jacket’s flight, her expression a priceless combination of incredulity and rage. “And will you pay only for the jacket, or does your offer extend to the suit, which is no longer whole and, therefore, unfit to wear?”
“Darn it, I’ll pay for the whole suit!” She sniffed and lowered her voice. “You’ll have to wait until I get paid.”
“Will I? And what if I don’t want to wait that long?”
Ah. Tony grinned inside. He’d finally made her lose her temper entirely. He couldn’t account for the feeling of joy that invaded him when she stamped her foot and hollered, “Dagnabbit, I’m sorry my dog got your blasted suit dirty. I’ll pay you back when I can There’s nothing I can do in the meantime but say I’m sorry. What do you care, anyway? You’ve got more money than God!”
“True,” Tony agreed calmly “But I think you ought to pay for the damage your dog does when asked to do so. Do other people have to wait for months—”
“Months?” Mari shrieked. “Months! What do you mean, months? Dang it, Mr. Tafft said this would only take a few weeks!”
“Calm yourself, Miss Pottersby. You probably won’t have to wait months for your money.”
She expelled another gust of air and whispered, “Thank God.”
“But I think you should pay me for the damage to my jacket sooner than that.”
Her shoulders went back, her spine stiffened, she lifted her chin and glared at him. “Well, that’s just too bad, because I don’t have any money.”
He cocked his head slightly. “Who said anything about money?”
“Huh? I mean, I beg your pardon.”
He’d managed to fluster her entirely. Tony had seldom experienced such a swell of satisfaction. How odd. “You can pay me back by agreeing to take dinner with me this evening.”
She stared at him blankly, her eyes going as round as copper pennies. Tony could get lost in those eyes if he didn’t watch himself. She narrowed them again immediately, and eyed him in deep suspicion. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want me to take dinner with you?”
“It’s your punishment for allowing your dog to ruin my jacket.”
A gap in the conversation ensued as Mari stared at Tony, and Tony tried to look innocent. At last she said, “I don’t understand.”
With a nonchalant shrug, Tony said, “What’s not to understand?” In truth, he didn’t understand it either, but he couldn’t shake his compulsion to spend time with Mari Pottersby. It made no sense. She was the most aggravating, intolerable, nonsensical female he’d ever met. Yet he wanted to be with her constantly.
When he’d returned to Los Angeles with Martin after they’d negotiated the contract shoals with Mari, Tony had all but pined to get back to Mojave Wells. And, since Mojave Wells was about as hospitable a place as hell itself, he knew it was Mari calling to him. It was all very annoying, actually, and he trusted he’d get over it if he spent even more time in her company.
In the meantime, he could tell she believed him to have an ulterior and portentous motive. He could almost hear the little gears in her brain turning. Pasting on a bland smile, he pretended to reassure her. “My intentions are pure. I promise I won’t try to compromise you, Miss Pottersby. You needn’t be afraid.”
From a dull brick red, her cheeks bloomed fire. The process was fascinating to behold, and Tony watched with pleasure.
“I’m not afraid! Not of you.”
He lifted an eyebrow. He didn’t like the way she’d said you as if she couldn’t imagine anything less plausible than an attractive woman being subverted by him. Hell, women were always plying their wares on him, trying to get him into compromising situations so he’d be forced to marry them. This female didn’t know with whom she dealt, if she believed women to be immune to him, Tony Ewing. Damn her anyhow.
“No? Then why hesitate?” He forced himself not to grind his teeth, but to smile in a winning way.
“Here’s the lemonade. Nice and cold”
Both Tony and Mari jerked at the sound of Martin’s voice, cheerful and obliging. Tony turned and found Martin at his elbow, holding out a frosty glass full of lemonade to Mari. He saw Mari blink several times, as if she’d been as startled as Tony by Martin’s arrival.
Which was stupid. They’d both known Martin would be returning with lemonade for Mari.
“Um, thank you very much, Mr. Tafft,” Mari said after a quick overhaul of her emotions. She even managed a gracious smile as she accepted the glass and sipped. “Mmm, this is good. It really hits the spot”
Martin beamed at her for a second, then swept a hand out. “Sit down. Sit down! Tony and I were just going over the shooting schedule.”
“The shooting schedule?” Mari sat, looking puzzled.
From which, Tony deduced she was unfamiliar with the language of picture making. He tried to clarify. “That’s the order in which the scenes will be filmed.”
“Oh.” She frowned at him, as if to tell him she didn’t care to have him explaining things to her. Too bad for her.
Mari didn’t know about any of this. She watched a bunch of actors walk over and clump around the mine’s entrance. They all carried picks on their shoulders and had their white makeup smudged to make them look like people who actually worked for a living, instead of actors. Mari, who’d been a miner all her life, had never seen a miner look like that, but she held her tongue. It was apparent that motion-picture folks didn’t go in much for reality.
At the moment, she sat on a folding camp chair under one of the umbrellas that had been set up to protect the cast and crew from the blistering sun. She’d been impressed by how early these people got up to work. She’d assumed they’d all sleep in and let the better part of the morning pass before they did anything. But they’d all started gathering at least an hour and a half earlier. Mari had joined them about twenty minutes ago. She’d left Tiny in the cabin to prevent any misunderstandings.
Nothing happened.
The actors shuffled around. A couple of them lowered their heavy picks to the dirt. Some of them peered into the distance, toward the town of Mojave Wells, as if they were anticipating someone’s arrival. Mari wondered who they were waiting for. She craned her neck and looked, too, seeing nothing but the barren desert stretching for a mile or so in all directions. So she sat back again, ready to wait some more.
For several minutes a whole lot of nothing ensued. Grumbles swelled from the cluster of actors/miners. Mari crossed her arms over her chest and sweated along with them, although she at least was protected by the umbrella’s shade.
If whoever it was the actors were waiting for was late, she didn’t blame them for getting huffy. It was too darned hot to stand around doing nothing.
After talking amongst themselves for some minutes and probably melting all that ugly makeup off their sweaty faces, the actors finally decided they needn’t suffer heatstroke while waiting for whoever wasn’t here. They began straggling over to the line of chairs and umbrellas. Several of them saluted Mari politely. She smiled back.
A young man, breathing heavily, flung his pick to the ground, collapsed into a chair, and said, “I hate this heat.”
“It’s mighty hard to take, all right,” Mari agreed. To make him feel better, she added, “It’s cooler inside the mine.”
“Hunh! I wouldn’t know. And I may never find out if the director doesn’t show up pretty soon.” He sounded crabby and irritable.
For that matter, Mari herself was feeling a trifle antsy. She wasn’t accustomed to hanging around twiddling her thumbs, waiting for people to show up. She’d worked independently all her life, and she’d worked like the devil—for all the good it had done her. She didn’t like having to wait for idlers to make an appearance in order to begin her workday.
Shoot, if she hadn’t rented the Marigold to Peerless, she’d have had half a day’s work done by this time. She squinted up at the sun and estimated the time to be somewhere around nine o’clock. Way past time for any respectable person to get to work.
Which, for some incomprehensible reason, spun her mind around to Tony Ewing. She heaved a sigh and wished it hadn’t.
After the jacket debacle, she’d had dinner with him at the Mojave Inn. Fortunately, Mrs. Nelson had offered chicken and dumplings on the menu last night, so at least they could cut the meat. It actually hadn’t tasted half bad. The Nelsons bought their chickens from Mari, which supplemented her meager income, and she’d had an illogical sense of satisfaction to know that Tony Ewing was helping to support her, even in this little way and without knowing it.
More surprising, she’d enjoyed herself. Every time she remembered the evening, a shock of amazement smote her. Imagine, enjoying herself in Tony Ewing’s company. It didn’t make any sense. Especially since they’d spent most of the evening taking verbal swipes at each other. She grinned now, recalling the various strikes and parries each had executed. She’d had a hard time getting to sleep afterward, because her senses had been zinging from the stimulation of the evening’s conversation.
The throb of a motorcar in the distance jogged her thoughts and propelled her to turn and look again. Finally. A car was coming, all right. Mari wondered if it contained Tony Ewing.
Exasperated, she told herself to get her fancies under control. She hated when she entertained useless daydreams, because they only led her to be dissatisfied with her life. And, since there wasn’t much she could do about it, she’d decided long since that she didn’t need the aggravation of unfulfilled daydreams plaguing her.
Most of the actors playing miners rose from their camp chairs and squinted into the distance. Mari asked the young man who’d spoken to her, “Is it the director?”
He shaded his eyes and peered off into the distance, reminding Mari of a big-game hunter on the African veldt surveying the bush for lions.
Ack. There went her imagination again. She gave herself a mental smack on the back of the head to capture her attention.
“I can’t tell,” her companion said after a moment or two of observation. “Probably.”
“Too bad he’s late,” she offered, hoping it would make him feel better to know someone else disapproved of the director’s rudeness.
“I’ll say It’s too hot to play these games.”
These games? Whatever did the young fellow mean? Mari didn’t ask, supposing the reference to “games” pertained to the pictures. Although she really didn’t care a whole lot, she’d as soon not broadcast her ignorance to the world. She offered a neutral grunt, and hoped the young man would consider her to be on his side.
“By Jupiter, it’s not the director. It’s Martin!” the young man cried.
Mari got up and peered at the motorcar, too. “Weren’t you expecting him?”
“Oh, sure, but not today. I thought he was going to drive to L.A. and get some costumes for the leading lady.”
L.A.? The leading lady? That was her! Oh, my. Mari’s heart sped up. “Um, what’s L.A.?” she asked, because she was curious.
“L.A.?” The young man turned and looked at her as if he believed her to be joshing him
She wasn’t. Rather stiffly, she said, “I’ve never heard of it.”
He laughed. Mari didn’t find anything amusing about not knowing something, and she deplored people who ridiculed other people’s ignorance. Before she could say so, the young man said, “It’s short for Los Angeles. That’s what all the picture folks call it.”
“Oh.” L.A. Los Angeles. That made sense.
The car rumbled onto the plot of land that had been marked off as the Peerless set, and the actors began ambling over to talk to Martin. Mari discounted as a touch of indigestion the stab of disappointment that struck her when she saw Tony wasn’t with him.
She’d never been troubled by indigestion in her life.
Something was wrong with the picture, though She heard a couple of “Sorrys” and one or two “That’s too bad,” as she approached Martin. He saw her, and she thought she saw relief enter his eyes. “Oh, good. I’m so glad you’re here, Miss Pottersby.”
He was? How nice of him to say so. “What’s the matter, Mr. Tafft?”
This time she heard several people exclaim, “Mr. Tafft?” as if they’d never heard his name before. She glanced around, frowning.
Martin gently took her arm. “Don’t pay any attention, Miss Pottersby. Everyone calls me Martin. Picture making is pretty casual. In fact, I’d be pleased if you’d call me Martin.”
“Oh. Sure. Everybody calls me Mari.” In fact, except for the Peerless people, nobody ever called her Miss Pottersby.
He gifted her with a broad smile. He had a really nice smile. He was a mighty good-looking man, actually. Mari couldn’t figure out why he, who was nice and polite and exuded gentlemanliness, should leave her unmoved, while Tony Ewing, who was rude and impolite and exuded sarcasm, made her want to leap on him and kiss him to within an inch of his life.
Oh, dear.
“Thanks, Mari,” Martin said. “Say, we’ve had a disaster this morning.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.” Her heart plummeted. Could something have happened to Tony? Food poisoning, maybe? Terror gripped her momentarily.
“Yes, it’s a pain in the neck.”
Hmmm. That didn’t sound too bad. If Tony had died, surely Martin would have been more upset than this. “Oh?”
“Our director, John Gilman, has taken sick. I don’t know what’s the matter. He was fine yesterday. Today he’s sick as a dog.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. Do you need the name of a doctor?”
“Mrs. Nelson got the doctor for us, thanks. But now it looks as though I’m going to have to take over the direction of this picture.”
“Oh.” Mari had no idea on earth what a director did or didn’t do in connection with a motion picture. “Is that a problem for you?”
Martin heaved a big sigh “I guess I can handle it. But it means I’ll have to spend all my time here, and won’t be able to do other things I’m supposed to do. Which brings me to you.” He smiled again, winningly.
Mari felt her heart, which had calmed down considerably since she and Martin had begun talking, speed up again. “Me?” She pointed to her chest.
“I’m afraid so. Say, Mari, would you be able to go to Los Angeles with Tony today? I was going to go myself and bring the costumes back to the set, but now I’m going to be stuck here. Since Tony’s never dealt with costuming before, I think it would be easier on everyone if you were to go with him
“Go with him? To Los Angeles? Me?” Mari decided she was babbling and shut her mouth. After swallowing, licking her lips, and taking a deep breath, she tried again. “I’m sorry, Martin. But . . . you want me to go to Los Angeles with Mr. Ewing? For costumes?”
“I’m really sorry about this, Mari.” He looked as though he meant his apology sincerely. “It’s only that Tony’s so new at this.”
“And I’m not?” She tried not to sound as bewildered as she felt.
His quick grin reassured her “Sure, I know you’re new to the pictures, too, but you’d be doing me a big favor if you’d go with him. That way, you can try on anything that needs to be tried on. If alterations have to be made, we’ll know right away. I spoke to the costumer on the telephone a couple of weeks ago—as soon as we knew you’d be playing the part, in fact—and I’m sure she’s got everything under control, but . . .” He gazed at her pleadingly.
“And you think if I go with him, there won’t need to be alterations?” Mari wasn’t sure about this, since most of her clothes came to her secondhand, but there seemed to be something slightly askew with Martin’s reasoning here.
“What I meant was that, since Tony doesn’t have my experience, he won’t know, without you there, if things need to be altered. I’ve done this so many times, I’m pretty good at judging fits without the actors there.”
“Oh. Yes, I see.”
His eyes took on a pleading cast, not unlike Tiny’s eyes when he was longing for something he couldn’t reach. Which didn’t happen often. “So, can you do it?”
Mari swallowed again. “Um, sure. I guess I can go.” Whatever would she do with Tiny? “How will we get there?”
“Tony’s machine “
Mari didn’t know much about the sophisticated life, but she knew that a “machine” was a motorcar. “He has one?”
“Sure. It’s big and comfortable, too, so at least you won’t be bumping around in a horse-drawn cart or anything.” He laughed his friendly laugh.
Los Angeles. Mari had never even dreamed about traveling all the way to Los Angeles. Why, it was miles and miles away. It was, by her standards, a big city. A metropolis, even. Mari felt like a yokel when she ventured as far as San Bernardino. She couldn’t imagine how she’d feel in Los Angeles—and with Tony Ewing. It sounded scary.
“Um, well . . .”
“Please? You’d be doing me a tremendous favor.” Martin seemed to think of something and added brightly, “Say, I know you weren’t expecting to have to travel in connection with your employment for Peerless. How about I tack on another hundred dollars if you make the trip?”
Another hundred dollars? Mari couldn’t conceive of a person’s having the financial wherewithal to fling a hundred dollars around for no better reason than because another person had to take a trip to Los Angeles.
She flapped her hand in the air, feeling stupid and greedy. “There’s no need for that. You’re paying me plenty already.”
“Nonsense. I know you can use the money, and I’m asking a big favor. Please accept the money.”
Bother. She sure could use the money. For a moment or two her pride fought with her needs. Eventually pride lost. “Well . . . okay, I guess. But you really don’t need to do that. I don’t mind going to Los Angeles.” Or, if she were to speak the language of the movies, L.A. A tiny bubble of excitement caught up with the ache of fear in her chest.
A motor trip to a fairly big city. With Tony Ewing, the most handsome, albeit the most aggravating, man she’d ever met. Scary, indeed. And very, very intriguing.
“That’s swell.” Martin’s smile seemed less forced, and Mari could tell he was relieved that she’d capitulated. She felt kind of guilty about worrying him. “Tony will be here as soon as the doctor sees John. Can you be ready to leave today?”
“Today?” Good heavens. “Um, sure. I don’t know why not.” Except for Tiny. She gasped when she remembered her dog. “Oh!”
“What’s the matter?” Martin started looking worried again
She felt silly. How could she forget Tiny? “Um, I forgot about my dog. I don’t suppose I can take him with me?”
From the look on Martin’s face, she knew she couldn’t. She hoped this wasn’t going to prevent the trip to LA. All of a sudden she really wanted to go.
“I’ll be glad to feed him for you.”
He wouldn’t be glad, and Mari knew it from the tone of his voice. He was such a nice man. To make him less sorry he’d offered, she said, “You can keep the hundred bucks if you take care of him.” What the heck. A hundred here, a hundred there. What was it to Mari?
She couldn’t believe she’d actually thought that. A hundred dollars to Mari Pottersby was akin to a million to Tony Ewing. But, since she’d yet to see a single penny of Peerless money, it felt sort of like throwing confetti around or making deals with play money.
“Don’t be silly, Mari. I’ll be happy to feed Tiny for you. I’ll even take him for a walk, if he needs it. And you deserve the money. You’re being asked to do way more than the contract calls for.”
She eyed Martin for a long moment. “Um, you don’t need to walk him. He can walk himself if you open the door.”
“Do you think he’d run away if I didn’t go with him?” Martin looked worried.
Mari sighed. Where would he run to? There was nothing around here. “Oh, no. He always comes back.” Often with a jackrabbit carcass carried proudly in his huge jaws. Mari decided Martin didn’t need to know that much. City folks made a big to-do over the jackrabbits, but they were really only pests. Mari approved of her dog’s willingness to eliminate vermin.
“Good. I’d never forgive myself if I lost your dog.”
How sweet. Mari smiled at him. “Well, then.” She knew she was going to accept. She didn’t know why she was even pretending to hesitate.
Martin said, as if trying to persuade her, “It will only take a day. It takes several hours to get there, and you’ll be an hour or so at the costumer’s place, and then you can turn around and come right back.”
She nodded. That’s what she’d feared. She’d be going to a real city for the first time in her life, and she wouldn’t even get to see it. She sighed “Sure, I’ll do it.”
“Great. That’s great. Thanks, Mari.
“Sure, Martin. No problem.”
The rumble of a distant motor propelled them both to turn around and investigate. Another motorcar, followed by a gigantic plume of dust, headed toward the Marigold Mine.
Martin shaded his eyes. “That must be Tony.”
And there, in a nutshell, was Mari’s problem Darn it.