again, Martin muttered, “Where’s Orozco? I told him
eight o’clock.”
“ I haven’t seen him “ Christina refrained
from tacking on the Thank God she was thinking.
“ I’ll go see if I can find
him .”
She almost told Martin not to hit him once he found him, but held
herself back. She was sure yesterday’s problems had been an aberration
brought about
by the heat, the stress of making this picture, and the fact that Orozco could
bring out the worst in anyone.
Martin started off toward the hotel, calling back to Christina and
Schuman, “Have fun, you two.”
It wasn’t fun. Camels were dirty,
smelly, recalcitrant critters, and Christina didn’t like them. They didn’t seem to like
her much, either. What’s more, she didn’t like riding them, and they didn’t like
being ridden.
They were uncomfortable and bumpy, even though Mr. Schuman had rigged up a
fancy palanquin thing for her to sit in once she climbed aboard. Christina thought
wryly that it must have been a darned wealthy slave girl who could afford all
the gilt and
glitter the Peerless folks had slapped on this camel’s saddle.
They’d been at it for almost forty minutes before Martin came back, a
crabby looking Pablo Orozco trailing in his wake. Martin was yanking on that
tuft of hair
and appeared
pretty darned harassed and crabby himself Christina waved at the two men
from her
perch on the camel’s back. She wondered if either of them had resorted
to fisticuffs before heading out to the camels.
In an attempt to cheer them both up, she called out, “Hey, you two.
Like my mount?”
Martin managed a smile and a wave. Orozco didn’t.
“ You’re missing all the fun, Pablo.” She
entertained the unkind hope that he’d been up all night drinking and now had
a hangover. It would serve him right for being such a despicable cad to
have to bump around on a camel’s back while nursing a
terrible headache. She knew she was being petty and would have been ashamed of
herself if Orozco had been worth it.
“ Ah,” said Schuman. “Good. Miss Mayhew’s
got the hang of it quite well. Why don’t we try you, Mr. Orozco?”
Orozco grumbled something, huffed, and stood still with his arms
crossed over his chest. He glared as Christina’s camel knelt on the sand, as
the trainer had commanded it to do, and Christina climbed
down . She did it fairly gracefully, too, if she did say
so herself.
It was no mean feat to be graceful while dealing with a camel.
She glanced at Orozco. “Don’t look so unhappy, Pablo. It’s only a
camel.” Her bottom hurt, her arms felt as if they were going to fall off,
her legs were having spasms, her head ached, and her back would never recover, but
she’d die before she’d admit it to Pablo Orozco. Let him find out the joys of
camelback riding for himself.
“ Hunh ,”
said Orozco, sounding cynical and resentful.
Christina didn’t bother with him anymore, but
staggered o ff to the porch to sit with Gran.
Somebody—Christina suspected Martin, since he was the only kindhearted person
around—had been thoughtful enough to provide iced lemonade and some
glasses.
The refreshments sat on the table next to Gran, and Christina poured
herself a glass with pleasure.
“ That man’s an ass,” said Gran when
Christina flopped down in a chair next to her and downed half her lemonade. She
eyed her grandmother, puzzled. She’d kind of liked Schuman.
“ Which
man?”
“ That
actor fellow.”
“ Oh. Him.” Christina peered at Orozco,
who was at present scowling hideously as he
tried to follow Mr. Schuman’s directions for mounting a camel. “You’re right. He
is.” She drank the rest of her lemonade and pressed the cold glass against
her forehead, contemplating whether or not she w as up
to running
inside to fetch some salicylic powders for her headache.
The camel lurched upright, and she winced, almost pitying Pablo Orozco, since she knew from
experience how uncomfortable this particular aspect of his
eight o’clock.”
“ I haven’t seen him “ Christina refrained
from tacking on the Thank God she was thinking.
“ I’ll go see if I can find
him .”
She almost told Martin not to hit him once he found him, but held
herself back. She was sure yesterday’s problems had been an aberration
brought about
by the heat, the stress of making this picture, and the fact that Orozco could
bring out the worst in anyone.
Martin started off toward the hotel, calling back to Christina and
Schuman, “Have fun, you two.”
It wasn’t fun. Camels were dirty,
smelly, recalcitrant critters, and Christina didn’t like them. They didn’t seem to like
her much, either. What’s more, she didn’t like riding them, and they didn’t like
being ridden.
They were uncomfortable and bumpy, even though Mr. Schuman had rigged up a
fancy palanquin thing for her to sit in once she climbed aboard. Christina thought
wryly that it must have been a darned wealthy slave girl who could afford all
the gilt and
glitter the Peerless folks had slapped on this camel’s saddle.
They’d been at it for almost forty minutes before Martin came back, a
crabby looking Pablo Orozco trailing in his wake. Martin was yanking on that
tuft of hair
and appeared
pretty darned harassed and crabby himself Christina waved at the two men
from her
perch on the camel’s back. She wondered if either of them had resorted
to fisticuffs before heading out to the camels.
In an attempt to cheer them both up, she called out, “Hey, you two.
Like my mount?”
Martin managed a smile and a wave. Orozco didn’t.
“ You’re missing all the fun, Pablo.” She
entertained the unkind hope that he’d been up all night drinking and now had
a hangover. It would serve him right for being such a despicable cad to
have to bump around on a camel’s back while nursing a
terrible headache. She knew she was being petty and would have been ashamed of
herself if Orozco had been worth it.
“ Ah,” said Schuman. “Good. Miss Mayhew’s
got the hang of it quite well. Why don’t we try you, Mr. Orozco?”
Orozco grumbled something, huffed, and stood still with his arms
crossed over his chest. He glared as Christina’s camel knelt on the sand, as
the trainer had commanded it to do, and Christina climbed
down . She did it fairly gracefully, too, if she did say
so herself.
It was no mean feat to be graceful while dealing with a camel.
She glanced at Orozco. “Don’t look so unhappy, Pablo. It’s only a
camel.” Her bottom hurt, her arms felt as if they were going to fall off,
her legs were having spasms, her head ached, and her back would never recover, but
she’d die before she’d admit it to Pablo Orozco. Let him find out the joys of
camelback riding for himself.
“ Hunh ,”
said Orozco, sounding cynical and resentful.
Christina didn’t bother with him anymore, but
staggered o ff to the porch to sit with Gran.
Somebody—Christina suspected Martin, since he was the only kindhearted person
around—had been thoughtful enough to provide iced lemonade and some
glasses.
The refreshments sat on the table next to Gran, and Christina poured
herself a glass with pleasure.
“ That man’s an ass,” said Gran when
Christina flopped down in a chair next to her and downed half her lemonade. She
eyed her grandmother, puzzled. She’d kind of liked Schuman.
“ Which
man?”
“ That
actor fellow.”
“ Oh. Him.” Christina peered at Orozco,
who was at present scowling hideously as he
tried to follow Mr. Schuman’s directions for mounting a camel. “You’re right. He
is.” She drank the rest of her lemonade and pressed the cold glass against
her forehead, contemplating whether or not she w as up
to running
inside to fetch some salicylic powders for her headache.
The camel lurched upright, and she winced, almost pitying Pablo Orozco, since she knew from
experience how uncomfortable this particular aspect of his
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