You can have your choice of any director and cameraman on the lot. That goes for writers and producers, too.
I think too much of you, baby, to louse you up."
"That's fine," Nevada said. "But what am I supposed to work for?
Spit and tobacco?" "I think I've got a good deal for you.
I had our accountants look into it and figure out a way you can keep some money instead of paying it all out in these damn taxes Roosevelt is slapping on us."
Nevada stared at him. "This better be good."
"We'll salary you ten grand a picture," Dan said. "That breaks down to five grand a week, because each picture will only take two weeks to shoot.
You defer your salary until first profits and we'll give you the picture outright after seven years. You'll own the entire thing – negative and prints – lock, stock and barrel.
Then, if you want, we'll buy it back from you.
That'll give you a capital gain."
Nevada's face was impassive.
"You sound just like Bernie Norman," he said. "It must be the office."
Pierce smiled.
"The difference is that Norman was out to screw you. I'm not.
I just want to keep this factory running."
"What would we use for stories?"
"I didn't want to look into that until after I’d talked to you," Dan said quickly. "You know I always had a high regard for your story sense."
Nevada smiled.
He knew from Pierce's answer that he hadn't even thought about stories yet.
"The important thing would be to hang the series on a character people can believe in."
"Exactly how I felt about it," Dan exclaimed. "I was thinking maybe we'd have you playing yourself. Each time, you'd get into another adventure.
You know, full of the old stunts, tricks and shoot-outs."
Nevada shook his head. "Uh-uh. I can't buy that. It always seems phony.
Gene Autry and Roy Rogers do that at Republic.
Besides, I don't think anybody else would believe it. Not with this white hair of mine."
Pierce looked at him. "We could always dye it black."
Nevada smiled. "No, thanks," he said.
"I kinda got used to it." "We'll come up with it," Dan said. "Even if we have to pick up something from Zane Grey or Clarence Mulford. Just you say the word and we're off."
Nevada got to his feet. "Let me think about it a little," he said. "I'll talk it over with Martha and let you know."
"I heard you got married again," Dan said. "My belated congratulations."
Nevada started for the door. Halfway there, he paused and looked back. "By the way," he asked, "how's Jonas?"
For the first time since they had met, Pierce seemed to hesitate.
"All right, I guess."
"You guess?" Nevada asked. "Why? Haven't you seen him?"
"Not since New York, about two years ago," Pierce answered. "When we took over the company."
"And you haven't seen him since?" Nevada asked incredulously. "Doesn't he ever come to the studio?"
Dan looked down at his desk. He seemed almost embarrassed.
"Nobody sees him much any more.
Once in a while, if we're lucky, he'll talk to us on the telephone.
Sometimes he comes here. But it's always late at night, when there's nobody around.
We know he's been here by the messages he leaves."
"But what if something important comes up?"
"We call McAllister, who lets Jonas know we want to talk to him.
Sometimes he calls us back. Most of the time, he just tells Mac how he wants it handled."
Suddenly, Nevada had the feeling that Jonas needed him.
He looked across the room at Dan. "Well, I can't make up my mind about this until I talk to Jonas."
"But I just got through telling you, nobody sees him."
"You want me to do the pictures?" Nevada asked.
Pierce stared at him.
"He may not even be in this country. We might not hear from him for a month."