Cowboy For Hire (40 page)

“They couldn’t
help it.” Tears had begun to trickle from Amy’s eyes, although she
tried to stop them. She was furious and she didn’t want Karen to
think she was weakling enough to cry. Unfortunately, she was a
weakling, and she was crying. “I can’t help it, either.”

“Bosh! You’re
no milksop, Amy Wilkes, whether you want to pretend you are or not.
And you’re not a fainting maiden. You’re not a little kid any
longer. You’re a strong, accomplished woman, and you have the
ability to take control of your life, which you couldn’t way back
then. Can’t you tell the difference between you then and you
now?”

Through a film
of tears, Amy glared at Karen, wishing she’s just go away. She
didn’t like hearing these things form her friend. “I know I’m not a
little kid, Karen Crenshaw.”

“Well, you’re
still acting like one!”

“That’s not
fair!”

“
Bosh!
For heaven’s sake, Amy. You’re an adult female American citizen. If
Charlie Fox ever did anything to hurt you—which he won’t, because
he worships the ground you walk on—you can get up on your hind legs
and leave him. You have friends and family who can help you if
something goes wrong. You’re not all alone in the world and too
young to make decisions anymore Can’t you tell the
difference?”

Yes, Amy
could tell the difference. She could not, however, control the
panic that welled up inside of her when she considered doing what
Charlie had asked of her. She cried harder, feeling trapped between
two intolerable options. “But ... but, Karen, I’m ... I’m scared.”
Her throat was so tight, the words were almost
indistinguishable.

“Oh, Amy!”
Karen rushed over to the bed, thrust the photograph aside, and took
her friend in her arms. “I’m so sorry.”

Karen’s
sympathy was the only thing Amy needed to complete her
demoralization. She collapsed, weeping piteously, and ashamed of
herself for doing it.

“I know you’re
scared, Amy. Anybody would be after going through what you went
through when you were only a kid. But you’re not a kid any longer.
And the world’s a different place now than it was back then. And
you live in the great state of California, not the Yukon Territory
or wherever Alaska is. We have telephones and doctors and medicine
and streetcars and automobiles, and all sorts of things you and
your parents didn’t have. And you’re all grown up. If you or
Charlie or one of your kids gets sick, you can take care of it. You
don’t have to die for lack of medicine and freezing cold and
starvation and stuff like that.”

“I know,”
stumbled wetly from Amy’s aching throat.

“I’m sorry I
was so mean to you.”

Amy shook her
head, knowing Karen had only spoken the truth, no matter how hard
it had been for her to hear it. But, oh, how was she ever to
overcome this blind panic that throttled her and rendered her
immobile every time she thought about starting out in married life
with nothing!

“Here,” Karen
said, her own voice sounding suspiciously thick. “Blow your nose.
We need to talk some more.” Karen handed Amy a handkerchief she’d
hastily snatched from a bureau drawer.

Amy blew her
nose. “Oh, please, no,” she mumbled, sure she’d die if she had to
go through any more of these hateful truth-revealing sessions. “I
can’t talk anymore.”

“Oh, please,
yes, you can so,” Karen said, after blowing her own nose in another
of Amy’s hankies. “Knowing what you’re doing isn’t enough, you
know.”

Indeed, Amy
knew. Quite well, in fact. She only nodded, still weighed down by
the feeling that all was lost and could never be found.

“I mean, it’s
all well and good to know that you’re reacting like a
seven-year-old to an adult situation, but there are still the
terrible memories and fears that lurk behind everything and keep
you from making sensible decisions.” Karen gave her nose another
hearty blow.

“There’s no
need to be horrid to me,” Amy said shakily.

“I’m sorry. I’m
always blundering around and saying things I probably shouldn’t. I
try not to, but it always happens.”

“Hmph.”

“
I think
what you need to do is develop some sort of strategy to deal with
your feelings. I mean, there’s no law that says you can’t be scared
of something—after all, you
did
go
through a pretty awful time—but there’s also no reason for you to
let fear keep you from a happy marriage with a man who loves you
and whom you love.” She eyed Amy hard. “You can’t deny it. I know
you love him.”

“Yes,” Amy said
humbly. “I love him.”

“Well, then,
what you need to do is develop some sort of coping strategy.”

Hmmm.
There was a novel notion. Holding the handkerchief up to catch her
dripping tears, Amy stared at Karen, curious. “What do you
mean?”

“What I mean is
that you need to overcome your fears.” She bounced up from the bed
and began pacing with her old vigor. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve read
over and over again about stage fright.”

“You mean when
actors get scared before they go onto the stage to perform in a
play?”

“Exactly! In
other words, they’re scared, but they don’t let their fear stop
them. They might perform scared, but they perform, and pretty soon
they get involved in the role and the fear disappears.”

“Merciful
heavens.” How intriguing an example, particularly since Amy had
spent her first several days on the Peerless lot performing scared,
and her fear had eventually disappeared. Could she do the same
thing with other aspects of her life?

Why not?

By the time
Karen left Amy’s tent, the two women had discussed the matter
nearly to death. Karen was thrilled, and Amy was so exhausted she
barely had enough vitality to turn over and go back to sleep.

She was
no longer feeling abandoned and alone, however. Nor was she unhappy
any longer. She still harboured a vague sensation of uncertainty.
Everything hinged on whether or not Charlie Fox would be attending
Peerless’s premier of
One and Only
in Chicago.

* * *

It was a much
cheerier Amy who arrived at her uncle’s health spa two days later,
pulling up in Martin’s huge and luxurious automobile, with Karen
seated next to her. All the guests at the Orange Rest rushed
outside to see who could possibly be arriving at the spa in such a
grand manner.

“Amy!” Aunt
Julia rushed out to give Amy a gigantic hug. It hurt her various
bruises, but Amy didn’t even say Ow.

“
It’s so
good to be home!” she cried, and gave her aunt a smacking kiss on
the cheek. “Let me introduce you to my new best friend, Karen
Crenshaw, who lives in Altadena and works for Madame
Dunbar—”

“Mercy!” Julia
slapped her hands to her cheeks as if the news of Karen’s employer
had stunned her. “Madame Dunbar! Why, she’s famous.”

Karen
grinned and held out a hand for Aunt Julia to shake. “How do you
do, Mrs. Wilkes. Amy and I had a wonderful time on the set
of
One and
Only
.”

“Oh, I’m so
glad.” Julia shook Karen’s hand enthusiastically.

“And you
already know Mr. Tafft,” said Amy, directing her aunt’s attention
to Martin. “He was kind enough to drive Karen and me home
today.”

“My goodness,
Mr. Tafft, it’s good to see you again. Thank you so much for taking
such good care of our Amy.”

The three
picture people exchanged a significant glance. Martin said, “Miss
Wilkes proved to be a wonderful actress, Mrs. Wilkes. She performed
her role to perfection.”

It wasn’t true,
and Amy knew it, but it pleased her to hear Martin say so.

He continued,
“After the final editing of the picture’s been done, the case will
be going to a special premiere of the picture in Chicago. If you
can clear your schedules, I’d like to invite you and Mr. Wilkes to
attend with Amy.”

“Oh, my!” Aunt
Julia went pink with pleasure.

“Thank you,
Martin!” Amy exclaimed. “How very kind of you.”

“He just wants
to make sure you don’t back out,” Karen said in her humorous,
downright way.

Amy frowned at
her. Martin laughed.

“Won’t you
please come in for a few minutes and take a glass of orange
juice?”

Karen and
Martin looked at each other. Martin shrugged. Karen, grinning,
said, “You know, I really want to get home, but I can’t resist such
an appealing offer. Amy’s been extolling the virtues of her aunt
and uncle’s orange juice ever since she arrived on the Peerless
lot.”

Aunt Julia
looked pleased.

Amy wrinkled
her nose at Karen. “She’s saying I was a dead bore, Aunt Julia, but
don’t you believe it.”

They all
laughed, and Martin carried Amy’s bag up to the big white pavilion
of the Orange rest Health Spa. Julia, noticing all the inmates
staring, straightened her shoulders proudly. Amy grinned inside.
She knew exactly what her aunt was thinking. After all, it
wasn’t
every
family in
Pasadena that boasted a moving picture star.

Not that she
was a star.

She was,
however, truly glad to be home. She couldn’t wait to drink a tall
glass of orange juice, carry her bag up to her room and unpack, and
be among familiar surroundings.

Amy Wilkes was
not an adventuress at heart. And that was putting it mildly. She’d
had an adventure once, and it had killed her mother and father and
almost killed her. Adventures could be disastrous, and she didn’t
trust them one little bit. She was, however, willing to attempt one
last adventure in her life.

Now all she had
to do was convince Charlie Fox that, although she might be uneasy,
and although she’d already hurt the both of them, if he was willing
to be patient with her, she was willing to try something new with
him.

This was, of
course, provided they ever saw each other again.

Chicago. He had
to be in Chicago. Amy pinned her heart and hopes on Chicago.

Twenty

Charlie looked
at himself in the mirror and wasn’t sure it was him. The face bore
a slight resemblance to the Charlie Fox he’d known all his life,
but the rest of him looked sort of weird.

But his duds
were new and well cut and had cost him a whole lot of money. Martin
had gone with him to pick them out, and since Martin always looked
as if he’d just stepped out of a gentlemen’s magazine, Charlie
trusted his opinion on sartorial matters.

So he
guessed he probably looked good. What did he know? The only thing
he knew for sure was that he wanted Amy to like what she saw—if she
could recognize him beneath all this finery. He was ill at ease in
city clothes, but Martin had told him that as long as he pretended
not to be, he’d be all right. That was what he’d done in the
pictures, Charlie supposed, so Martin must be right. That was what
actors did, after all. And since Charlie had just finished acting
in his second Peerless picture,
The Lone Cowboy
, he guessed he qualified as an actor.

Not that
he’d spent the entire two months since the finish of
One and Only
playacting. Far from it.
Charlie Fox was only acting for money. His real life belonged on a
ranch, and he’d spent the rest of his time in Southern California
fixing that up.

Now, if he
could only persuade Amy to join him in his new ranching endeavour,
he’d be a happy man. If she wouldn’t be persuaded, he’d at least be
a successful one; he was determined of that.

He flowered at
himself in the mirror and told himself not to thing negatively. He
needed to project confidence.

One good
thing about this Chicago trip—besides the possibility of trying to
win Amy over to his side—was that Horace Huxtable wouldn’t be
there.

“Thank God he’s
off making a picture in the South Seas. Another studio shipped him
off to some island somewhere, and they aren’t allowing liquor
anywhere near him. They’re hoping he’ll shape up and do a good job
for them.” Martin sounded doubtful.

“As long as I
never have to see the bastard again, I don’t care what he does or
what you tell folks.”

But Martin was
worried. “We can’t let the picture-viewing public know what an ass
he was to Amy or they’ll never go see another Peerless
picture.”

“They don’t
have to know that part,” Charlie assured him.

“Right.” Martin
peered into the mirror and caught Charlie’s eye. “Say, Charlie, are
you sure you don’t want to travel with Karen and Amy and me? Her
aunt and uncle will be on the same train, so there will be lots of
people around.”

Just what he
needed, Charlie thought glumly: a passel of fascinated folks to
watch his wooing. Provided he could get close enough to Amy to do
any wooing. “No, thanks, Martin. I have some business to finish up
in Los Angeles, and then I’ll catchy the train the next day.” If he
had to share passage with Ay, and if she refused to talk to him or
anything like that, Charlie feared he’d just throw himself under
the train and be done with it.

Dang it, there
went that negative thinking again. He shook himself mentally. “But
I’ll see you all in Chicago.”

“All right.”
Martin didn’t look as if he approved of Charlie’s travel plans.

Charlie laid a
hand on Martin’s shoulder. Six months ago he’d never have made such
a gesture, but he’d been around picture people so much lately that
he hardly thought about it twice. “Don’t worry, martin. I’ll be
there. I wouldn’t let you down.”

“
I know,
Charlie. It’s only that I ... well, I’d been hoping for a while
that during the filming of
One and Only
that you and Amy would pair up. You ... you seemed happy
together.”