She stared at the text, feeling herself shrink.
“You must have had a bang-up audition.” Judith gave Emily a congratulatory pat on the back. “Being chosen by Dan Barrett is quite a coup. You definitely are scruffier now than when you were on the bus. You look like a real stable hand.”
Emily swiped at the horsehair clinging to her borrowed shirt. Ironically the expensive shoes and dress she’d purchased hadn’t helped land the job. Next time she’d save her money.
She shoved the phone back in her pocket. No way would she call Jenna for a loan. Her sister might ask deflating questions, like why the movie didn’t cover a hotel. And right now, Emily felt better than she had in months. She’d actually landed work on a movie set.
At least Judith understood her accomplishment. “It’s kind of a neat scene,” Emily said, turning back to Judith. “I hold Reckless who’s very upset after his groom quit.”
“The groom didn’t quit. I told you before. She disappeared.”
“Right.” Emily nodded, trying to appease Judith’s sense of detail. “Anyway, after the groom disappeared, Reckless goes crazy. Dan said they have different horses to bite and rear and stuff. I get to hold the rearing one. His name is Bruno and he’s gorgeous.”
“You were with Dan Barrett? Or was it an assistant?”
“It was Dan. He let me watch while he worked with the horse. Wanted me to see that Bruno is obedient so I can trust him when he rears. Dan seems nice.” Emily peered at Judith, hoping for some Internet trivia. “Dan seems really nice,” she prompted.
“Oh, yeah,” Judith said. “He knows his stuff. He’s a Barrett, from one of the oldest families in Montana. When he’s not on a movie set, he’s at his ranch.”
“Must be hard,” Emily said. “Moving around the country, separated from…wife and kids.” She held her breath and pretended to inspect her painted nails.
“Yes.” Judith nodded. “According to Mr. Hamilton, Shania already complained about this remote site. Hamilton told me lots of interesting stuff. And he’s going to try to get me another background job later this week.”
“That’s great.” Emily waited a moment then tried again. “Are most of these movie people married?”
“Robert Dexter is. Shania isn’t.”
Emily gave a rueful smile. She wasn’t interested in the marital status of Shania, or even Dexter. However, Judith’s interest was clearly focused on the actors. Admittedly, Emily’s had been too—until she’d met Dan.
Still, it was much more important to figure out where she would stay tonight, rather than waste energy wondering about a man who was so far out of reach, he might as well be in a different constellation.
She dragged her thoughts back to her current problem. “They’re only using a couple barns for the movie. Does that mean the other buildings are empty?”
“Totally empty,” Judith said. “Why do you ask?”
“I need to find a place to sleep…just in case the hotel is full.”
*
Emily waved as Judith joined the line of weary extras and climbed onto the idling bus. The aisle light spotlighted Judith’s drawn face until passengers streamed around her and she disappeared from sight. Most of the performers looked relieved to be heading home, in contrast to Judith’s reluctant expression. One man was already asleep, eyes shut, his cheek flattened against the window.
Hopefully, Judith would land more movie work. Despite her eccentricities, Emily liked the older lady.
Minutes later, the bus rumbled away. A plume of gray exhaust spiraled from the tailpipe, marking its trail before fading into the night.
And then Emily was alone. She swallowed, hugging her bag closer to her chest. After the earlier frenetic activity, the movie site seemed deserted. The production crew had packed up for the day. Even the wardrobe tent was closed. Muted conversation drifted from a string of silver trailers beyond the tents but she felt isolated, and uncertain.
She never liked that feeling and squared her shoulders, trying to fool herself into feeling more confident. No way would she miss tomorrow’s shoot. Her car was busted, she had no hotel money but according to Judith there were plenty of empty barns on the estate. And she had certainly slept in barns back home.
Grabbing her resolve, she started walking, skirting the tents and trailers and using the moonlight to pick her way over the thick coils of wires. Fortunately she still wore her groom’s clothing. She’d forgotten how comfortable barn boots were. Navigating this rough ground would have been more difficult in heels.
The outline of a familiar building loomed—the main barn, the hubbub of activity and the site of her earlier audition. Stall windows glowed in a neat row of illuminated squares. A night watchman hovered in the doorway.
She veered to the right, trying to avoid his attention, and followed a rubber walkway to an adjacent barn. This building was unlit, and hopefully unmanned.
She stepped inside and waved her phone light. The long aisle appeared deserted. The stalls were empty of horses, filled only with moldy boxes and a string of dangling cobwebs. Something fluttered from the rafters.
She gripped her bag, trying to ignore her thumping heart. It was blindfold dark, and the weak phone light only extended a few feet. Bats and rodents—even an imagined bogeyman—had never scared her before. But when she’d slept in the shed back home, she always had company, if not Jenna then Peanut. Odd how a little pony could provide so much comfort.
And these huge barns were devoid of horses and not one bit friendly. They stretched in a lifeless line, their shadows silhouetted by an eerie yellow moon. Their stillness made her skin prick, like she was the only survivor in a hostile land.
A horse nickered in the distance, a faint but welcome sound. She hurried from the barn, trying to pinpoint its source. Definitely a horse. But where had it come from? Not the movie barn with the guard but from the opposite direction.
She edged through the shadows, following an equine walkway that hooked into the trees then turned into a crude footpath. Something rustled in the underbrush; a heavy rodent-like body moving scant feet away. Her stride quickened until she was moving so fast she almost tripped. And then, thankfully, she saw it—a compact two-story building tucked away in the trees. It was much smaller than the last buildings but bigger than a cottage. White-railed paddocks flanked the west side, matching the gleaming white shutters on the windows.
She stepped closer, peering inside. A night light illuminated the aisle, revealing six roomy stalls. The door at the far end was padlocked.
A bay horse abruptly stuck his head over the door, his eyes inquisitive. Then he nickered, such a welcoming sound that she smiled with relief and walked into the barn. She paused to stroke his neck, enjoying how his breath warmed her face. He had a distinctive white blaze and wore a blue blanket. His front legs were wrapped and the familiar smell of horse liniment thickened the air.
“Hi buddy,” she said. “Want some company?”
She glanced around the cozy barn. The stall to his left housed a sleepy-eyed chestnut who barely looked at her. But other than the two horses, the building was empty.
She peered over the door of an adjoining stall, relieved to see fresh hay and six bales of straw stacked neatly against the wall. One bale was even open. Perfect. It would be possible to make a comfortable bed without leaving any mess.
Something brushed her ankle. She leaped backwards in shock. A gray cat with a ragged ear gave a plaintive meow and stared expectantly. Smiling, she scooped him up and headed for the straw. This couldn’t get much better. Two horses and a warm cat for company. Best of all, it was within her price range.
*
“Look at Shania’s horrified expression.” Anthony gestured at the screen, his entire body twitching with energy. “This pool footage looks so genuine. And the double’s switch is seamless.” He gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up to Dan, then nodded at the department heads. “Keep it up. We’ll have another good day tomorrow.”
Anthony rose f
rom the table, passed a progress report to the producer and turned toward Dan. “A slight change tomorrow. Shania is feeling better so I want to film the stall scene and the doorway shot. Forecast calls for red sky in the morning.”
“Okay,” Dan said. “I’ll have both an old and young Reckless ready.”
“No, we’ll save the rearing scene for the rain, depending on what special effects can do.”
Dan nodded. Anthony often adjusted his shooting schedule but never on such short notice. However, Ice was primed for his cuddly sunrise scene, and the production office would advise riders of new call times. The only performer they couldn’t reach was Emily. He’d intended to take her phone number in case of a change but had been distracted by her throaty laugh, the hip-swinging walk, her tempting curves—she made the day more interesting and admittedly he’d been thinking of more pleasurable things.
Naturally he wouldn’t pursue the attraction. He’d learned to keep his trailer door locked. Movie shoots had enough complications, and the hurt look in feminine eyes when it was time to ship out simply wasn’t worth the sexual gratification. It was difficult enough to pat the horses good-bye.
Most women, despite pretty assurances to the contrary, wanted to prolong a relationship long after its due date. His business took him across North America while actresses were pulled in other directions. Long distance relationships always fizzled, no matter how much love and trust was proclaimed at the wrap party. He didn’t have the time or inclination to worry about a demanding actress who was chasing her own agenda. And he hated telephone affairs. They turned people jealous, petty and paranoid.
Of course, Emily was a background performer, not an actress. She didn’t face the same temptations as someone like Shania.
He snorted and gave his head a shake. Who was he kidding? Simply looking at Emily’s lush mouth made him think of sex. Any red-blooded guy would hit on her in an instant. When she’d flashed that provocative smile and offered to crawl between Bruno’s legs, he’d had a raunchy image of doing her against the rails. It was a good thing he didn’t have her phone number.
Not so good for her though, considering she wouldn’t learn about the change in call time until tomorrow. Of course, she’d be compensated. Most background performers didn’t mind being paid to wait, especially if they lived in the area.
He scooped up a copy of the revised schedule, nodded goodnight to the script supervisor and strode toward the door. These nightly meetings could drag past midnight and it was his habit to slip out early after gathering feedback on his horses’ performance. Anthony generally gave him free rein, one of the reasons Dan liked working with the talented director.
Dan yawned, grateful his trailer was on site. He needed to check back on the lame horse then catch up on some much-needed sleep. Traveling to a hotel cut into valuable time, and he always preferred accommodations close to the animals.
A narrow path edged from the back of the trailers to the more isolated stud barn, a short cut that reduced his walk by five minutes. The little barn was perfect for a lame horse or, God forbid, any animal requiring quarantine. It was conveniently close but removed enough from the action that the horse would have a better chance of settling, especially if given a quiet companion.
A gelding’s blazed face stuck over the stall door, liquid eyes tracking Dan’s approach. The horse gave a low nicker, his expression bright. Despite being restricted to stall rest, the animal seemed in good spirits. It was unfortunate he was lame; this bay was a dead ringer for Reckless.
Dan scratched the underside of the horse’s jaw and scanned his legs over the stall door. One of the wranglers—probably Lizzie—had done a competent job. The wraps appeared firm and even, forming a perfect stovepipe pattern. The blanket was probably overkill but the gelding looked cozy.
He checked the tightness of the bandages then slipped a hand beneath the blanket, making sure the horse hadn’t overheated. The temperature was about sixty degrees, a lovely spring night, and certainly comfortable enough without a blanket.
He gave the horse a final pat and moved on to check the chestnut in the next stall. This Thoroughbred had also been supplied by the stock contractor and, as promised, the gelding was very quiet. Life was easier when they possessed a good mind. Movie horses needed to be adaptable. This fellow was a perfect companion, not seeming to care about the barn change, as long as he was provided with plenty of hay. And right now, both horses clearly wanted more to eat.
It was hard to resist a hungry horse and neither of these guys were fat. It wouldn’t hurt to toss them an extra flake, especially since they’d been shuffled away from the action. Unlike humans, they didn’t care if they missed their shot at fame.
He turned to the hay stall, slid open the door and stepped in. A scruffy gray cat darted between his legs. His smile froze in surprise.
Someone slept in the corner, curled in the hay with an open newspaper spread over his chest. The retired caretaker perhaps? Dan hadn’t met him yet but apparently a longtime employee still lived in the caretaker’s cottage. The man had lived and worked on the estate for over sixty years. Poor fellow. Maybe he felt responsible for these horses and didn’t realize they’d been shipped in for a movie.
But when Dan edged sideways, light from the aisle filtered past revealing the sleeping face. His eyes widened. This definitely wasn’t the caretaker but instead his most recent hire, the woman who’d been coloring his thoughts.
Emily’s eyes were shut, her dark lashes flattened against creamy cheeks. Stripped of makeup and that veneer of toughness, she looked younger, more vulnerable. But even asleep, her mouth looked…lively. He backed up, fighting the unwanted pull of sexual attraction. Time for me to go.
But he hesitated, his protective instincts surging. She must be uncomfortable, and cold. The urge to scoop her up and carry her back to his warm trailer was almost unbearable.
And why was she sleeping in a barn? There was a decent hotel only three miles away with a shuttle service for cast and crew.
He shook his head in pained realization. She was background. Extras found their own transportation unless numbers justified bussing. He’d asked her to watch Bruno in the round pen, assuming she lived close by. They both knew it hadn’t been a request.
Had she missed the bus? He’d given her an early call time, for a scene that was now postponed. She didn’t need to be here for at least another day. He jammed his hands in his pockets, battling with his conscience.
People did crazy things to get in the movies but this was background—merely holding a horse for thirty seconds. She must desperately want the job. And she didn’t look that uncomfortable, more like someone accustomed to making the most out of a tough situation.
He stooped and adjusted the newspaper, pulling it higher over her chest. Her breathing remained slow and even. His knuckle brushed her cheek and he jerked his hand back. But she didn’t move, and the peaceful look on her face remained unchanged.
He glanced at the open doorway. She was a sound sleeper. Anyone could walk in and clearly she’d be oblivious. The barn was probably safe enough—that lecher Hamilton was tucked away in the mansion with his highbrow wife—but it didn’t feel right to leave a woman in isolation, sleeping under newspaper like a homeless waif.
He hesitated for another moment, then scooped up some hay for the hungry horses…and proceeded to look for a chair.
CHAPTER NINE
A familiar ring tone chimed. Emily groaned, too cozy and warm to move but the sound was irritatingly insistent. She fumbled for her phone and shut off the alarm. A horse nickered, jolting her awake. She jackknifed up.
This was the day she’d lead Reckless! Not a speaking role, but still a good start. She scrambled to her feet, dislodging a blue horse blanket, still warm from her body. She picked up the blanket and walked into the aisle, studying it in confusion.
The friendly bay nickered and pressed his chest against the door…his bare chest. She rubbed her eyes. Somehow his blanket had ended up o
n her.
“Sorry, fellow,” she murmured. She wasn’t a sleepwalker and certainly didn’t remember borrowing his blanket. An empty chair sat against the wall of the hay stall. She couldn’t recall seeing the chair last night either, but it seemed she couldn’t remember a few things.
The bay nosed at her shoulder. It was tempting to slip him a flake of hay, a thank you for his hospitability, but it was early and whoever fed the animals might not be pleased. She considered putting his blanket back on, but entering a strange horse’s stall, uninvited, was an even bigger taboo.
“I’ll try to come back and visit later,” she said. “Thanks for sharing your barn.”
She left the blanket folded on the chair and stepped outside.
The sun poked over the ridge, the air crisp and invigorating. This area of the estate was especially beautiful with a secluded lane shaded by stately elm trees. Maybe this cozy barn was used by the Hamiltons and the two horses inside weren’t involved in the movie. But someone must have covered her with that blanket. As a result, she’d had a wonderful sleep, and she was appreciative.
Voices and vehicles rumbled beyond the trees and she edged to the left, following a curving driveway toward the noise. Several portable toilets were on site. With a little luck, she might find running water. And breakfast. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of food.
She quickened her steps and rounded a bend, eager to spot a washroom of some sort. The movie site still wasn’t visible though, only a small cottage that bordered the drive. A man with a wooden cane struggled to swing back a barred gate.
“Good morning,” she said. She was about to slip around the bar and continue up the drive, but he looked feeble. She hesitated, then detoured to his side and helped push the steel bar back.
“Thanks.” He grunted with satisfaction. “Mr. Hamilton wants me to open the gate every morning. They’re going to make a movie of Reckless.”
“Yes, it’s started,” Emily said. “They’re shooting up by the main barn.”
STUDS AND STILETTOS (Romantic Mystery) Page 6
