Miner's Daughter (13 page)

Mari heard it, too. She turned and gave him a
vicious scowl. “Wait just a minute, can’t you? I have to make sure
everything’s ready for Martin to come and feed poor Tony. I mean
Tiny.”

If she confused his name with that of her dog
one more time, Tony didn’t know what he’d do, but it would be
drastic. “Poor Tiny,” he mimicked. “We’re only going to be gone for
a day.”

She’d called Martin Martin. When had that
happened? Why was Martin on a first-name basis with her, when Tony
wasn’t? Were those two closer than he had suspected? Had some
surreptitious courtship been going on under his very nose, and he’d
missed it? Was Martin wooing her? Was she wooing him?

Good God, were they lovers? Jealousy, green
and as monstrous as Tiny, swelled in Tony’s bosom. He told himself
not to be an ass, which didn’t help much.

“I know that, and Martin knows that, and you
know that, but Tiny’s never been left alone before, all by
himself.”

Tony rolled his eyes. He’d be safer if he
didn’t contemplate any possible relationship between Mari and
Martin but concentrated instead on how ridiculous the girl was.

So, back to dogs.

At once he decided there were to be no Great
Danes mucking up his life. His own dog wouldn’t be as big as Tiny.
Tony’d get himself a nice, largish—but not too large—friendly dog
that wouldn’t knock folks over when they came to call. He didn’t
know much about dogs. Maybe he could pick up a book in L.A.
Something that described the various breeds and things like
that.

He caught himself up short. What in the name
of holy hell was he thinking about buying dog books for? For the
love of God, he lived in New York City. If he ever decided to get a
dog, he’d do it there.

It was all because of Mari. She’d rattled his
senses so hard, he could scarcely keep his wits together. If she
and Martin were a courting couple, Tony considered it mighty sneaky
of them not to mention it to him. Were they trying to keep it a
secret because they feared his reaction?

That was arrant nonsense. What did he care if
Mari loved Martin and vice versa? It was nothing to him.
She
was nothing to him.

His entire insides clenched as if he had a
cramp, and it was all he could do not to double up with pain. He
fought off the spasm, gritted his teeth, and remained upright.

Damn it, would the girl never be through in
there? He contemplated squeezing his horn, but feared the noise
would frighten Tiny so much, she’d refuse to leave him. Then he
considered stomping to the cabin and hauling her out of it, but
again, he didn’t quite trust her dog. She claimed Tiny was as
gentle as a lamb, but he was a hell of a lot bigger than any lamb
Tony’d ever seen. And he had sharp, pointy teeth, too. Tony decided
not to chance it.

At last! Mari came out of the cabin, carrying
a carpetbag that looked as if it were at least a thousand years
old. She wore a dress about that old, too, and Tony recognized it
as one she’d worn before. Didn’t the girl have any decent clothes
at all? She looked like a damned ragamuffin.

He was ashamed of himself when the reality of
Mari’s poverty crawled through the resentment clouding his senses
and tapped on his brain to get his attention. She probably didn’t
have any decent clothes because she couldn’t afford them. Anyhow,
she wouldn’t need them out here, would she?

Not only that, if she decided to get some new
clothes, she’d indubitably have to make them herself. Tony’s heart
squinched when he considered Mari’s blistered fingers as she
wearily sewed into the night by the light of a single sputtering
candle.

Damn. He hated when sentiment got in the way
of rational thought. He had no business feeling sentimental about
Mari. She wouldn’t thank him for it She’d be more apt to slap his
face for insulting her.

The notion made him grin

Mari appeared troubled as she lugged her
carpetbag to the machine. When she saw him grinning, she stopped
walking and frowned. “What are you laughing at?”

He threw out his hands “I’m not laughing at
anything.”

“You’re smiling.” She said it as if it were
an accusation.

“Is that a crime?” Her interrogation had
squelched any inclination to smile He walked up to her and started
to take the carpetbag. She didn’t release her hold on it. “Give me
the bag, for heaven’s sake.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“For crying out loud, you may not need it,
but I’m giving it to you. Let go of the stupid thing.”

“No.”

“Damn it, I’ve got to put it in the
tonneau.”

Reluctantly, she released her hold on the
bag. “I don’t like to be laughed at.”

“For God’s— I’m not laughing at you!” He
jerked the bag up roughly and flung it into the big car’s backseat
“You get the strangest ideas in that head of yours.”

“You were smiling.”

He turned and glared down at her. Since she
was a tall girl, it wasn’t that far down. “What’s wrong with
smiling? If you’re going to tell me I can’t smile when feel like
it, we’re never going to get along.”

She sniffed. “I don’t suppose we ever will,
no matter what I tell you.” She flounced to the passenger’s door
and reached out to open it.

Tony beat her to it. “Here, damn it. You may
not be lady, but I was raised to be a gentleman, and gentlemen open
doors for females.” He yanked the door open and stood, fuming, as
Mari settled herself on the luxurious leather seat.

As ever when they fought, she lifted her
chin. Tony had begun to recognize this gesture as an act of
defiance from a woman who had nothing but her basic character with
which to tackle the world and everything in it. She didn’t have
money to talk for her, or a male relative, or anything else. She
had her wits and her honor, and she possessed an intolerable amount
of pride.

She was cute as a bug.

As Tony cranked his motorcar and then jumped
into the driver’s seat, he couldn’t believe he’d actually thought
that.

It was ridiculous for her to be this nervous.
No matter how many times she told herself so, Mari couldn’t halt
the anxiety eating away at her self-possession. Blast it, what was
it about Tony Ewing that bothered her so darned much? Just because
he was handsome? Just because he was as rich as Midas? Just because
she wanted to leap into his arms and kiss him?

Probably. Darn.

“I don’t know why you brought that big bag
with you, anyhow. We’re not going to be there overnight.”

If her chin rose any higher, she’d be staring
into the backseat. Mari lowered it reluctantly and gave an
imperious sniff. “It’s best to be prepared. I might not have been
reared to be a lady, but at least I know that much.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Tony growled.

“You didn’t mean what?” She didn’t think it
was her place to give this awful man an inch. He already had all
the money in the world. The only thing she had was her dignity, and
she wasn’t going to let him take that away from her—or not more
often than she could help, anyhow.

“What I said about being a lady I didn’t mean
that.”

“Oh.” She turned her head away from him and
stared out the window.

If she were to admit the truth, she’d have
had to tell him she’d seldom been this excited. Imagine her, Mari
Pottersby, driving to the metropolis of Los Angeles in a big, fancy
car with him, Tony Ewing, the richest, most handsome man she had
ever set eyes on.

“And you still won’t need that bag.”

“It’s always wise to be prepared for the
unexpected.” She’d heard tales about these fancy motorcars breaking
down. Or sometimes they drove over tacks and blew out their tires.
Their engines overheated, too, especially in the desert. And what
if they ran out of fuel? Unless he kept a supply with him, Mari
didn’t know where he’d get any more.

He grunted. She could tell he was
exasperated. Too darned bad. She squinted through the window,
spotted something unusual, and cried out, “Oh, look over
there!”

“What? Where?”

The machine swerved wildly, and Mari,
grabbing the seat to keep from slithering to the floor, shrieked,
“Oh! What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter? What are you screaming
for?” The automobile screeched to a stop by the side of the
road.

She stared at him, wide-eyed, and demanded,
“Why did you do that?” Was he trying to kill her? Maim her? Punish
her for being nasty? Good Lord, she’d never have guessed him
capable of these sorts of tactics.

He stared back at her for a moment, then
turned toward the front and bowed his head. His hands gripped the
steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles shone like polished marble.
“You screamed. I thought something had happened to you.”

“I didn’t scream.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

He drew in a huge breath and held it.

Mari bit her lower lip. “Um, I guess I did
speak sort of loudly. A little bit. It’s only that I wanted you to
see the two roadrunners.”

He slanted a glance at her without lifting
his head.

“Roadrunners?” The word came out hard,
reminding Mari of sharp knife blades and hatchets and things like
that.

“Um, yes. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
That was polite of her, wasn’t it? To acknowledge a slight
lapse—although she hadn’t known it to be a lapse—and apologize for
it?

“I thought you’d suffered some kind of attack
or seizure.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Please don’t screech like that while I’m
driving “

“Very well.” She was beginning to feel
put-upon. She hadn’t meant to scare him, after all. It wasn’t her
fault he couldn’t drive and look at things at the same time. It
wasn’t her fault his nerves were bad. She decided to say so. “You
might want to consider drinking a glass of warm milk at night
before you go to bed. I understand it does wonders for the
nerves.”

This time he lifted his head when he stared
at her. “My nerves?”

She tilted her head, again lifting her chin.
“Yes. You seem a trifle jumpy.”

“Jumpy? I’m not jumpy, Miss Pottersby. You
shrieked like a banshee.”

“I did not!”

He sucked in another breath and let it out
slowly. “I suggest we begin again. Perhaps we should go over a few
rules—rather, suggested modes of behavior—before we do so.”

She’d seldom felt this stupid, and it was an
intensely uncomfortable experience. Nevertheless, she knew she’d
been at fault. Sort of. In a way. It still wasn’t her fault that
his nerves were bad. Because she didn’t want to fight all the way
to Los Angeles, she decided not to press the issue of his fretful
disposition. “Very well.”

“If you wish to point out some entity in the
countryside that you believe will be of interest to me, please
don’t . . . speak loudly.”

He’d been going to say,
Please don’t
screech at me
. Mari could tell. She also resented it, though
she deemed it prudent not to say so. “Very well.”

After another moment’s pause, during which
Mari could almost hear him battling with his urge to holler at her,
he said, “I appreciate your willingness to show me flora and fauna
native to this area. I’ve never been to California before, and I’ve
never seen a roadrunner.”

“Well,” she said, feeling crabby, “they’re
gone now, so you won’t see those two.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

He didn’t sound like it.

Mari held her tongue as he restarted the
motor and the machine lurched once more onto the rough road. None
of the roads in Mari’s life were paved, although she’d read about
paved roads. She expected she’d see some in Los Angeles.

They hadn’t been traveling for very long
before another pair of roadrunners began racing beside the car down
the road. Very quietly, Mari pointed them out to Tony.

He grinned. “I’ve never seen any birds like
that before.”

She couldn’t help grinning, too, because the
birds were so silly looking as to be adorable. “No. They’re unique,
all right.”

“There seems to be a lot of uniqueness in
this neck of the woods,” he murmured.

Mari squinted at him, but could perceive no
ulterior meaning to the words. A desert tortoise captured their
joint attention then, and she elected to stop worrying about
surreptitious meanings to Tony Ewing’s pronouncements.

The scenery was pretty dull, at least to
Mari, who was accustomed to it. She was surprised to discover how
many items of interest actually dwelt in the desert. She pointed
out jackrabbits, more tortoises, vultures, cottontails, ground
squirrels, tarantulas, tumbleweeds, more roadrunners, a small herd
of wild donkeys, several prairie quails, an old bummy looking
prospector, who waved his tattered hat and grinned toothlessly at
them, two red-tailed hawks, and an eagle.

Tony leaned forward and squinted through the
windshield. “That’s an eagle?”

“Yes. You don’t see too many of them
anymore.”

“I’ll be damned. I’ve never seen an eagle
before.”

“Not many city folk have, I expect.”

He glanced at her. Mari pretended not to
notice, but continued staring through the car’s window.

“Thanks for showing me all this stuff, Miss
Pottersby. I drove out here with Martin and didn’t see half so
much.”

“That’s only because you didn’t know what you
were looking at, and he didn’t either, I imagine.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

Silence fell between them, although
“silence”, under the prevailing conditions, with the machine’s
motor roaring fit to kill, didn’t really describe it. Muteness was
more like it, Mari supposed. She didn’t know what to say, that was
for sure. They were driving through a stretch of absolutely bleak
desert, so there weren’t even any points of interest to mention. A
couple of sagebrush. Some creosote bushes. A mangy old Joshua tree.
A tumbleweed or two.