Chapter Eleven
NEW PLANS
The sky seemed to open wide and a great torrent of rain descended on the heat-ridden earth, but Janet and Helen, in the shelter of the truck, were safe.
"All right, honey?" demanded Helen's father, and, assured that his daughter was no more than bruised and weary, he turned to Janet.
"How about you, Janet?" he asked.
"Tired and dirty--that's all," she managed to smile.
"Here's blankets," he said, picking two off a pile on the floor of the truck. "Throw these around your shoulders."
The air was chill now and the girls obeyed without hesitation for their own clothes were in a bad state of disrepair.
"How did you find us?" asked Helen when they were seated on the floor of the truck, and bouncing along toward the main highway which would take them back to Hollywood.
"Curt Newsom got through. We were frantic after the line went dead when you were talking to us from the ranchhouse. We were coming in the truck and met Curt and the other two cowboys along the trail. From what they told us we knew that none of you could stand it to be out in the storm and we made all possible speed."
"How's mother?" asked Helen.
"Terribly worried." He turned toward Janet. "We'll phone your folks as soon as we get home. The fact that a film company was caught in the center of the fire was broadcast over a national chain and I'm afraid they may be gravely alarmed."
"I'll call them at once," agreed Janet.
They talked at length of their experiences and at last Helen's father turned to Fenstow.
"Lose all of your last-day takes?" he asked.
"Don't believe we lost a one," replied the other director. "We put the film cans in the well. One of my boys shot some swell scenes of the fire if the camera didn't get too hot and ruin the negative."
"Then I suppose you'll use a fire in your next western?" chuckled Henry Thorne.
"Can't say," replied Billy Fenstow. "That will be up to Janet."
"Why Janet?"
"She's going to do my next scenario."
"You're not joking?"
"Of course not. I've gone kind of stale and I thought she could inject some fresh material. At least she's going to get a fair chance to see just what kind of a film story she can turn out."
"Then I'm predicting that she'll do a good job if it's anything like the caliber of her usual work," replied Helen's father.
"Don't count on me too much," cautioned Janet. "This is a new field and I may get in so deep I'll never get anything creditable."
The truck swung around a sharp curve. Ahead of them was a blaze of light from the headlights of a score of cars which were parked along the paved road. Raucous squawks of horns greeted the approaching truck.
It was still raining hard, but a trim figure, clad in a raincoat, detached itself from a group in front of one of the cars and hurried toward the truck.
"Hello mother. Here I am," called Helen. "Both of us are all right."
She jumped from the truck and into her mother's arms. After a brief embrace, her mother spoke quickly.
"We mustn't stand here. You'll catch cold. Here, get under my coat and we'll hurry to the car. Janet, you stay in the truck until we can pull along here."
Henry Thorne looked down at Janet.
"Pretty tired?"
"Just about all in," she confessed and she found it hard to muster a smile.
"Had enough of Hollywood?" he asked quietly.
Janet looked up quickly.
"I don't know, honestly I don't. The way I feel right now all I want is sleep and lots of it."
He nodded understandingly and just then the car drove up beside the truck and they jumped down and entered it.
Henry Thorne took the wheel while his wife and the girls made themselves comfortable in the back seat. Mrs Thorne very wisely made no effort to ask them about the events of the night, but tucked them in with blankets and before the car had gone half a mile both girls were sound asleep.
The next thing Janet knew someone was shaking her shoulder. It was Mrs. Thorne.
"We're home and you can be in bed in five minutes," she said. Janet rubbed a little of the sleep from her tired eyes--just enough so she could see to get into the house.
Helen, walking ahead of her, moaned now at every step, for her feet had been badly bruised by the stones.
Mrs. Thorne hurried ahead to run a tub of hot water while her husband drove the car around to the garage. With Mrs. Thorne helping them, the girls were soon in fresh pajamas.
Janet decided on a warm shower and Helen followed her under the spray. Then Mrs. Thorne treated the bruises on Helen's feet and both girls piled into bed.
"Sleep as long as you want to," she said as she snapped off the light.
Janet didn't even hear the click of the switch. She dropped into a deep slumber, one so heavy that there were no dreams of fires and storms.
When she finally awoke it was broad daylight. Fresh, sweet air filled their room. There was no smell of smoke, no threat of storm, and she wondered, for a moment, if she could have been dreaming about the night before. It was just possible that it had been a nightmare. Then she stretched and the aching muscles of her legs told her that indeed it had not been a nightmare.
Janet looked over to Helen's bed. Her friend was still sleeping heavily so Janet slipped out of bed quietly, donned her dressing gown, and went down to the bathroom.
Mrs. Thorne heard her moving about and looked in for a minute.
"We telephoned your folks last night," she said. "They'd heard the radio broadcast and were greatly relieved when we told them both of you were safe."
"Oh, thanks so much. I was so sleepy I forgot all about it," confessed Janet.
"Helen getting up?" asked Mrs. Thorne.
"No, she's sleeping soundly."
"Then come in to lunch without going back to dress," said Helen's mother.
"You mean breakfast?" asked Janet.
Mrs. Thorne smiled. "No, I mean lunch, and a very late lunch at that. It's well after two o'clock now."
Janet, finishing her shower, rubbed her body briskly with a heavy towel, and slipped the dressing gown on over her pajamas. Then she joined Mrs. Thorne in the dining room.
"The morning papers made quite a story of it," said Mrs. Thorne, handing Janet a copy.
A bold headline was blazoned across the entire top of the front page:
"MOVIE COMPANY ESCAPES FIRE!"
Then, in terse, action sentences, the story told of the narrow escape of Billy Fenstow's western unit. Janet found Helen's name and her own mentioned. She was glad that the story gave Curt Newsom full credit for the cool-headed work which had saved their lives. Curt deserved every word of it.
Helen joined them a few minutes later, limping a little for her feet were still aching from the bruises.
The girls passed the remainder of the afternoon resting and at dinner that night became involved in a serious discussion with Helen's father and mother.
After the dessert, Henry Thorne pushed back his chair and looked at them quizzically.
"Summer's about over," was his opening remark and Janet knew that he had something on his mind. She had a hunch that she could guess what the trend of the conversation was to be.
"You girls made up your minds what you want to do?"
He seemed to have his eyes fixed on Janet, as though looking to her for the decision which would guide Helen.
"First of all I want to try to do the story Billy Fenstow asked me to do," retorted Janet. "After that I think I'll have had enough of Hollywood."
"Getting tired of being an actress?"
"Not at all, I'm just realizing my limitations and after all, I do want more education--the type of broadening education that I can get in a university."
Henry Thorne swung toward his own daughter.
"What do you think, Helen?"
"Why, I haven't made up my mind yet, Dad. I like Hollywood, I've been having a grand time, but I guess I've never really thought of staying on here definitely. It was understood from the first that this was just a glorious vacation and that when summer ended Mother and I would go back to Clarion and I'd go to college."
"I expect that's right," nodded her father. "It did start out to be just a vacation proposition and you girls can make it that if you want, but I've a new plan that may appeal to you. How would you like to go to Radio City in New York for several weeks?"