“And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.” God revealed Himself through His creation, as the Bible said, so that all men were without excuse.
“…She left the man in the oven too long, and he burned black like the Buffalo soldiers we have seen.”
Interesting.
“She fashioned another man, but she took him out of the oven too soon. He was pale, not ready for the sun—people with pale skins like you.”
“So we were mistakes.” Muriel felt the tremor of Sarah’s soft laughter through the towel she kept pressed to her head.
“Changing Woman fashioned one last man figure and placed him in the oven. She didn’t take him out too soon. She didn’t leave him too long. When she took this man out of the oven, he was a perfect brown color.”
Muriel nodded in appreciation. The story offered an explanation of the differences among the races. The Bible was silent on the subject, unless you counted Noah’s descendants. Because in Christ there was neither Jew nor Gentile.
“There are many wonderful stories in the Christian’s holy book, the Bible. Stories that are true.” She didn’t ask Sarah if she believed the tale she had spun. “If you come to our evening chapel, you can hear some of those stories.” She reached for her Bible and opened it to the picture of Adam and Eve at the front. “This picture is of our first man and woman.”
Sarah touched the picture. “The man who was not in the oven long enough.”
Muriel laughed.
“Of course Changing Woman did not make the first people that way. When she grew lonely, she created the Diné from skin rubbed off her body.”
Muriel couldn’t tell if Sarah truly believed it or not.
Chapter 6
Rex spread the phonographic cylinders in front of him. He had narrowed down his choices for a musical score to a handful of recordings. Tonight he must make a final choice. He worked the crank, ready to fill the camp with Schubert’s melodies.
Before he started the machine, music stirred the still air in the camp, live voices raised in song. He assumed they were hymns, since the sound came from the tent where they held their daily chapel.
They sang in harmony, almost as if they were a trained chorale society instead of a film crew. Given the background so many of them had in musical theater, perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised. Cocking his head, he concentrated on the music. He knew this one. “Amazing Grace.” A favorite song at funerals, one that didn’t need a thirty-piece orchestra to make it sound so good, beautiful in its simplicity. Straining, he could make out the words. “Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come. ’Tis grace that brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.”
Dangers, toils, and snares. Those words capsulized the difficulties they had faced during this filming. Rex scoffed. They hadn’t made it this far by grace, but by his leadership and grim determination.
One voice, a high soprano, soared above the rest. Muriel sang with the voice of an angel; she could have been another Jenny Lind if she had chosen a different career path.
Rex couldn’t tear himself away. They began a second hymn, and the words were harder to make out. Redeemed. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he hummed along. Waiting here in the shadows of his tent where no one could see, he could allowed himself to admit that something about Muriel’s faith appealed to him. She would insist that her faith was the reason she was good at her job.
“Rock of Ages, cleft for me.” Two voices joined in a duet, quieter, harder for Rex to hear. He recognized Muriel’s voice, but not the man’s. He came to the entrance to his tent and smiled at the number of people around the camp who had stopped the business of the night to listen. Fred grinned at him from across the way.
If someone from Edison’s company were in the camp, they would sign up the pair for a recording contract. Rex’s brain scrambled. Perhaps he could find a composer to write a love song, one that this pair could record and sell along with the movie. He had to discover who the second musician was. Resolutely he walked across the camp and opened the flap of the tent.
Muriel’s eyes widened in surprise, losing a slight bit of voice control, before continuing. The man singing with Muriel was Benny.
I should have known. Those two did everything together, no wonder they sounded as if they shared a connection beyond their common faith. They had worked together on several films. Their friendship wasn’t anything new.
The question was, was it only friendship, or something more?
Soured on his inspiration for music for the film, Rex left the tent, wishing he could slam a door behind him.
Schumann’s music would work just fine.
Rex’s unexpected appearance and abrupt departure had disturbed the spirit of the meeting. Even Muriel had held her breath, wondering if he was going to demand they stop meeting, that he had urgent tasks for them all to complete before heading to bed for the night.
Within moments of leaving the chapel service, music poured from Rex’s phonograph. She and Benny managed to hold the duet together until the final “Amen,” although she didn’t know if anyone could hear them over the other melodies. Before sitting down, Muriel spoke to the gathering. “Let us join together in prayer. Does anyone have prayer requests or praises?” She smiled in welcome of new visitors, who included Sarah and Helen. “I’d like to welcome Sarah and Helen to our meeting tonight. We hope you’ll join us again.” She smiled in welcome.
“Do you think Mr. Pride will come back?” Abe Brent said. Uneasy laughter rippled across their small group.
Benny stirred beside Muriel. “Absolutely. I think Paul’s words to the early Christians might be appropriate. Although he was talking about government and not an employer, he told the people in the Roman church to pray for those in authority and to obey the law.”
“I don’t know. It seems pretty appropriate.” One of Benny’s assistants grumbled. “Mr. Pride is the dictator in this part of the world.”
Laughter, again. Muriel felt the need to speak. “This production has run into unexpected problems. We need to pray for Mr. Pride, for this film, for his salvation.”
“That will never happen.” Muriel didn’t see the speaker.
“We should also pray for ourselves. We may be the only Gospel he will ever read. Let’s remember that as we go about our daily business.” Benny clapped his hands together. “Does anyone else have a prayer request?”
As the group went to prayer, Muriel opened her eyes and stared in the direction of Rex’s tent. She caught Sarah staring at her, and she flushed. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed not only for Rex, but also for Sarah and all the lost descendants of the ancient city. Sarah had come to chapel. Surely God had given Muriel confirmation of her calling to preach the Gospel to those who had never heard.
Benny spoke from the fifteenth chapter of Luke, on Jesus’ three parables about lost things: lost sheep, lost coins, and a lost son. Muriel prayed for those whose faces indicated an internal struggle. Sarah’s features remained as impassive as usual, and Muriel redoubled her prayers. To her chagrin, her aide left during the final remarks. Let Your Word take root in good soil.
Helen spoke with her before leaving. “You’ve given me a lot to think about tonight. Will you pray for me?”
“Of course.” Wouldn’t it be marvelous if this woman, who made no secret of her jealousy of Muriel, came to Christ?
Before Muriel could ask if she wanted to receive Christ right then and there, Helen slipped away. Muriel chastised herself. She had her mind focused on too many things. Overlooking the wheat that was ready to harvest while longing for the still fallow fields.
Soon she and Benny were the only ones left in the tent. “You look disheartened.” Benny’s face radiated concern. “It was a good night. We even received a look-see by the big man.”
“I know.” Outside the opening chords of one of Schumann’s songs repeated. “I had some ideas on mu
sic for the film, if he’s willing to listen.”
Benny looked to the tent where Rex had secreted himself for the past week, only emerging during the hours of filming. “If you don’t mind him biting off your head.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t say that. What was I just telling the group, that we may be the only Gospel he reads. Go speak to him, Muriel. I’ll be praying for you.”
“Thank you.” Sending a prayer heavenward, Muriel adjusted her dress, dropping the hem a quarter of an inch, and headed for Rex’s tent. She hesitated outside the flap. Without a door, she couldn’t knock. Then again, with the volume of the music, Rex might not hear a knock. With another prayer for courage, she pulled the flap open and ducked her head in.
“Excuse me? Rex?”
His head was bent over, his shoulders slumped, almost as though asleep. The phonograph reached the end of the song, and he put the cylinder away.
Muriel spoke into the ensuing silence. “Rex? May I come in?”
“Enter.” His low voice was very different from his usual bark. But as she ducked under the flap and walked in, he squared his shoulders and stood. “How may I help you, Muriel?” A smile played around his lips, softening his expression.
“It was good to see you at the chapel service.”
The smile disappeared. “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. You were making an awful racket.”
Peace, Muriel reminded herself. “The Bible talks about making a joyful noise to the Lord. He wants a whole heart, not happy harmony.”
“Actually, it wasn’t so bad.” He cleared the script from a camp chair and gestured for her to take a seat. “Not Enrico Caruso, but not bad. But you didn’t come here about that. Did you?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I wanted to offer my help in choosing music to go with the film.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Have I asked for help?”
“No. But you wouldn’t.” Careful. Don’t embarrass him. “But I studied piano for years. If you are looking for music for the movie, I have some ideas.”
“You have many hidden talents.” Uncertainty flickered in his eyes. “I haven’t decided. What do you have in mind?”
“I don’t think it’s been recorded. You haven’t played it on this wonderful machine.” She gestured at the phonograph. “I have to buy one of these for myself when I get home. Imagine. Listening to the Boston Symphony Orchestra in the comfort of your own home.”
“It is a wonderful invention.”
“One of many. I made a short list.” Muriel reached into the tiny purse that carried her Bible and a notebook. She showed him the list she had prepared.
He looked at her suggestions. “You’ve been thinking about this for a while.” He gestured with the notebook. “May I have this?”
“Of course.”
He tore out the page and handed the notebook back. “These are good suggestions. I hadn’t considered the American composers.” His lips lifted in a lopsided grin. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Why shouldn’t I help? We both want the same thing.”
“And what is that?”
“A good movie. What else?”
His lips curled in a full-fledged smile. “I’ll leave that to your imagination.”
“Can we call a truce between us?” She leaned forward, allowing a note of pleading into her voice.
“As long as you do exactly what I want.” The smile on his face disappeared. “I will listen to any ideas you want to present. In private.”
Peace descended over the production over the next few days, the tension between himself and the cast had lessened ever since his discussion with Muriel. More and more people went to the nightly chapel. They had begun to open the flap and set a few chairs at the entrance. Before long, she’d be asking for additional space.
Everyone seemed more at peace except for Rex himself. Early Saturday morning, he decided to take a walk with the dawn. Burbling water drew him, and he headed for the river, the same one that had flooded the canyon not so long ago. So far, a few late-afternoon showers hadn’t caused a repeat of the day that had nearly brought total destruction to everyone involved in the film.
Leaves rustled nearby, and Rex realized he wasn’t the only one headed for a cool drink before the heat of the day. A doe with a fawn by her side padded past him, their noses twitching at his unexpected presence. He changed his mind. Rather than heading for the river, which might only frighten the animals away…he went back to the cliffs and climbed to a spot where he could see the animals gathering at the watering hole.
With his bare eyes, he could see coyotes and deer, bobcats, too. Squirrels chattered in the branches overhead. He had heard tales of black bears in the region, as well as poisonous snakes, but they hadn’t encountered any problems. From the sky a golden eagle swooped down on an unsuspecting chipmunk. He caught a glimpse of a turquoise-toned lizard skittering up the wall of the cliff. Another time he’d bring binoculars and look for small animals and birds. No, he’d bring Benny. See if they could add footage of the local fauna to the film. For all the challenges Ruined Hopes had presented, he was glad they’d come to Mesa Verde to make the film. He couldn’t repeat the happy coincidences of nature in a studio.
Looking below, he saw smoke curling up from behind the chow tent. Benny stumbled out of his tent in the direction of the latrine. Rex cupped his hands together and yelled. “Benny!”
The camerist glanced around. Rex repeated his call, and he looked up. “Binoculars!” Rex made a sweeping motion to indicate he wanted Benny to climb up to him.
While waiting for Benny to join him, Rex watched the camp come to life. His eyes wandered time and again to Muriel’s tent. A soft light flickered beneath the canvas. How did she spend her time when she wasn’t filming, besides attending chapel? From time to time she received letters at mail call; he thought she had family in New England somewhere.
Had she formed any friendships with the crew? He knew the answer to that. She was friends with Benny and Sarah and more besides. Whereas he struggled to put names with some of the faces, men and women he had hired. People might find it easier to work for him if he put out a little more effort.
“You want these?” At the bottom of the ladder, Benny waved a pair of binoculars.
“Yes. Come on up.”
Rex glanced at Muriel’s tent one last time before Benny reached the top. Helen came by, and Muriel joined her before they headed toward the chow tent. When had the two rivals become friends? He almost wished it wouldn’t happen. A frisson of tension between actors vying for the same part brought out an extra edge of excellence.
Puffing, Benny pulled over the ledge and removed the binoculars from around his neck. “Here you go.”
“When did that happen?” Rex frowned down at Helen and Muriel.
“You won’t like the answer.” Benny brought the binoculars to his eyes and looked around. “I wish I had a camera that could bring images up close like this. Just think what I could do.”
“Tell me.”
Benny handed the binoculars to Rex. “Helen started coming to the chapel service. Muriel prayed with her, and now she’s saved.”
“I wasn’t aware she was lost.” Rex located the spot on the river where the animals had gathered. While the camp had come to life, the animals had come and gone. But he could still perhaps catch small animals on the ground or in the trees. He lifted the glasses to his eyes.
“‘All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.’ Another way the Bible describes it is that we’re like an archer’s arrows that miss the mark. The target is God’s law, and we all fail to hit the bull’s-eye from time to time.”
“I suppose you mean the Ten Commandments.” Rex zeroed in on a chipmunk with his pouches full of nuts, and then a chickadee fluttering in the branches of the piñon trees. A jay loomed so large in the lens that he took a step back. Taking the glasses away from his eyes, he could still see
the jay with his bare eyes. “Look there.” He handed the binoculars to his friend. “See the birds in the tree?”
“Let’s see. Chickadees. Titmice. Nuthatches. And a squirrel.”
“Is that a squirrel or a chipmunk?”
Benny squinted. “I think it’s a squirrel, but I’m not sure. Hard to tell from this distance.”
“There was a bunch of animals there earlier, stopping by for a drink before the bright light of day. Coyotes, deer, bobcats. I think I even spotted a turkey.”
“Interesting.” Benny eased the strap of the binoculars around his neck. “And you want to film them.”
“If we can.” Rex smiled as fire lit Benny’s eyes. If anyone could do it, the camerist could.
“Why haven’t we seen them at the river before?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they stay away from the river during the day to escape predators and people. There are eagles here as well. Golden eagles.”
Benny had the glasses at his eyes again. “Now, that’s what I would like to capture on film. Look.” He pointed Rex in a different direction, toward an outcropping of rock.
“What are they?” They were animals with shaggy coats like sheep, but they had horns worthy of an ancient musical instrument. Huge, gangly things.
“Bighorn sheep, I think.”
“Rather obvious, but it works. But yes. Film it! Absolutely!” His imagination played with finding a pair of those horns for use as props.
“Maybe they could construct those horns if I get a decent photo?”
Rex chuckled. “You read my mind.”
“Is that all?” Benny’s stomach growled. “I want to get to breakfast before it’s all gone.” He grinned. “I work with this director who holds up lunch until we finish filming for the day.”
Rex laughed outright. “Then by all means let’s get down.”
At dusk Rex tried to sneak up on the animals at the river. He must have sounded more like a stampeding elephant, because the banks had emptied when he reached them. He could see them running away as he approached. Perhaps Sarah’s brother could give him a crash course in hunting. Maybe they could hunt a sheep together, so they’d have authentic horns for use as props. He shouldn’t have any trouble convincing the Indian to work on Sunday, the only day not fully scheduled.
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