A man came running up, gasping and short of breath.
"I’m sorry, Mr. Von Elster," he said hoarsely. "I just can't locate that stunt man anywhere. But I’ll get you another one tomorrow." "Didn't anybody tell you?
He showed up already, Pierce.
We just made the shot."
Pierce stared at him.
"How could he?
I just left him back at- "
The director stepped to one side, revealing Nevada.
"Here he is.
See for yourself."
Pierce looked at Nevada, then at the director.
"That's not the one. That's Nevada Smith.
He owns the Great Southwest Rodeo and Wild-West Show." He turned back to Nevada and stuck his hand out. "Good to see you, Nevada."
He smiled. "What brings you out here?" Nevada glared at him.
The anger bubbled up again inside him.
He lashed out quickly and Pierce hit the ground in shocked surprise.
He stared up at Nevada. "What's got into you, Nevada?"
"What I want to know is how much the Cody show got into you!"
Von Elster stepped between them.
"I’ve been looking for someone like you a long time, Smith," he said.
"Sell your show and come to work for us.
I'll pay you two fifty a week to start."
Pierce's voice came up from the ground.
"Oh, no you don't, Von Elster. A thousand a week or nothing!"
Nevada started to speak. "You shut up!" Dan Pierce told him authoritatively. "I’m your agent and don't you forget it!" He turned back to Von Elster. "This stunt will be all over Hollywood in an hour," he said.
"I could take him down the line to Universal or Warner's.
They'd snap him up like that."
Von Elster stared at the agent.
"Five hundred," he snapped. "And that's my last offer."
Pierce grabbed Nevada's arm.
"Come on, Nevada. We'll go over to Warner's.
Every studio's looking for somebody to give Tom Mix a little competition."
"Seven fifty," Von Elster said.
"For six months, then a thousand a week and corresponding increases semiannually thereafter."
"It's a deal," Von Elster said. He shook hands with Pierce and then turned to Nevada. He smiled and held out his hand. "What did you say your name was?"
"Smith, Nevada Smith."
They shook hands. "And how old are you, young fellow?"
Pierce answered before Nevada could speak.
"He's thirty, Mr. Von Elster."
Nevada started to open his mouth in protest but the pressure of Pierce's hand on his arm kept him silent.
"We'll make that twenty-nine for publicity." Von Elster smiled. "Now, you two come on with me down to the front office.
I want to tell Norman we finally found the Sheriff of Peaceful Village!"
Nevada turned away to hide a smile.
He wondered what the men down on the prison farm so many years ago would have said had they known he'd finally turned up wearing a badge.
Even if it was only in the movies.
9.
"MY GOD!" THE WARDEN HAD SAID WHEN THEY brought Max into his office. "What do they think they're doin' down there?
This is a prison, not a reform school!"
"Don't let his looks fool you none, Warden," the tobacco-chewing deputy said, throwing the papers on the desk for the warden to sign. "He's a mean one, all right.
He killed a man down in New Orleans."