Page 78 of Born to be Wilder

“You did good,” Clarice said simply, and Doris’s face swelled with her huge smile.

Then Clarice looked at me. “You two, on the other hand…”

I should have shrunk down like Sylvie did. Should have apologized, but deep down, I didn’t want to. Whether I’d been Buck or Marge, when the ones I loved were in true danger, I had acted. I had fought for them.

And I would do it over and over again until the day I died.

“You just don’t have my vision is all.” I shrugged.

“Is that so?” She tipped her nose down to look at me from beneath her sunglasses. “With my three decades of experience, two Oscars, countless other awards, I don’t have your vision?”

Poor Anders looked like he wanted to find a time machine and go back to the restaurant and tell us no when I asked to be in this movie.

But before Clarice could give me an upbraiding, a frantic crew member sprinted up, nearly tripping up the boardwalk stairs. “Clarice! Roger! Disaster! Mitzi Vane just tripped over a lighting cord behind the trailer. Her leg snapped like a twig. Literally. It bent in half.” She paused, face contorting as she swallowed a gag.

“What?” Clarice snapped back.

The girl held down her vomit and continued. “We’ve got the saloon madam scene in twenty minutes, and our madam is currently being loaded into an ambulance!”

The color drained from Roger’s face. “Mitzi is out? But that’s a speaking role. And Mitzi Vane was our big-name cameo! Everything is set up and ready! Who the hell can replace her?”

The three men tossed out names and argued, but Clarice just ignored them.

She turned her head and looked at Alice. A slow, sharklike grin spread across her face.

“I know exactly who should play the madam,” Clarice said. “She’s got the beauty, she’s got the fame, and she’s got the natural chops for the role like she was born for it.” She stepped toward Alice. “What do you say, Gammy? Want to move from the background to the spotlight where you belong?”

My heart did a somersault. I looked at Alice, waiting for her to do the “oh, I couldn’t possibly” routine most women would put on.

But Alice wasn’t most women.

Her chin lifted, that showgirl spark flaring up in her eyes brighter than I’d seen it since we left home.

“Let’s give ’em a show,” Alice said, her voice echoing with that confidence of hers that always left me in awe.

Clarice grinned, and the flash of white teeth looked unnatural on her. “That’s what I like to hear. Wardrobe! Get Gammy into the madam’s dress. Makeup! We need a madam, not a traveler. Move, move, move!”

They swept Alice away, and I stood there in the dust, my fake Colts heavy on my hips, watching her go. My heart was still thumping from the gunfire, and the dirt was still gritty in my teeth, but as I watched Alice disappear into the trailer, I had to force myself not to run after her.

It was my job to protect her. To keep her and the other widows safe.

She’ll be fine. She’s safe, I told myself, staring at the spot she’d last been.

But she wasn’t safe. She was at war. Hidden enemies surrounding her like snipers in the bushes.

Enemies I couldn’t see. Couldn’t fight. Couldn’t take out with my Colts.

“Well, should we go find the saloon so we can be ready to watch Alice in action?” Sylvie asked.

I blinked hard, inhaling a breath as I forced my gaze away from the vacant spot where she’d been. “Yeah,” I said to Sylvie and Doris, my voice a little rougher than usual. “Let’s go watch our girl make history.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Damn! This is real mahogany!” I slid my hand along the bar stretching the length of one wall of the saloon. “You didn’t spare any expense on a damn thing.”

I propped my hands on my hips, turning in a circle to take in every inch of the set, which looked so real that if it weren’t for the one missing wall and the countless cameras and crewmembers duct-taping cables, polishing brass rails, and scurrying around like ants in a disturbed hill, I’d have thought I was really in the 1800s.

“Is this real whiskey, you think?” I picked up the bottle.