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  “This is a stupid ratings gimmick,” he said irritably. “I’ve been discussing it with Arlene, and we can’t see how the two-person teams can have any chemistry, how they intend to come up with a coherent storyline with us split between homesteads. I don’t know what the producers were thinking.”

  “I guess just that it’d be something different,” Mira said cautiously. “Something to get people talking about the show.”

  “Different because it’s ridiculous,” Scott snorted. “But since we can’t do anything about it, we’re just going to have to adjust our strategy. I’ve been thinking about how to do that, and I’ve realized that all we need to do is revise my original plan. We’ll still be working with the same alliances. It’s just that I won’t be able to oversee your part of it as well as I was planning to.”

  Did he really think she was such an idiot that she couldn’t figure out how to talk to people without his help? But the last thing she wanted was a televised argument. Mike had dropped back to film them, to her chagrin. She shoved the irritation down and asked instead, “What are you thinking?”

  “I’ll start bonding with my group,” he began to plan. “Arlene and Chelsea are feeling left out and vulnerable right now. Probably Lupe too. That’s a group of four right there. I get one more with us, and we’ll have a majority. Meanwhile, you should be getting friendlier with Martin. Stanley likes you too, I’ve noticed. Work on that, and I’ll do the same with Calvin. But the main thing: cozy up to Maria-Elena and Melody. Get to be their best friend. Talk about clothes, brag about your boyfriend, all that girl talk.”

  “I’m not sure that’s going to work. Because I’m not particularly friendly with Melody,” Mira pointed out. “She sure isn’t friendly with me. I don’t think she’s all that interested in women. And I’m not crazy about Martin either. I’m friends with Zara and Kevin, and I like Stanley and Maria-Elena. I’m pretty sure we could become friends, once we’re living together. That’s five, with me. A majority.” She didn’t dare mention Gabe.

  “It doesn’t matter who you’re friends with,” Scott said impatiently. “That’s not the point. There’s no way we’ll win if we start out by making alliances with members of different teams. You need to be thinking strategically.”

  “It seems to me, though,” she said carefully, “that it’s going to work best if we get friendlier with the people we already like, who already like us. It’s what Cliff said. The main thing is not having your group want to vote you off. And actually, you know,” she couldn’t help adding, “thinking strategically is my job. That’s what management consultants do.”

  “You’ve never been the senior consultant on the team, though, have you?” he retorted. “You’re an information gatherer, not the one who draws the conclusions. If you were, you’d see that you can’t just take what Cliff tells us as gospel. That’s what he wants you to think. Use your brain. Think it through. What’s he leaving out? That when a homestead is deciding who leaves, they’re also thinking about who’s going to be leaving the other homestead. They’ll want to leave their own homestead stronger, and the other one weaker. That’s what I’m mainly worrying about, those times when your homestead wins and does the voting. And don’t think for a moment that the others aren’t going to be thinking about their own team. Alliances are everything out here, and we need to be on the same page with that.”

  “I’m not so sure you’re right about that,” Mira countered doggedly. She hated arguments, but his assumption that her team would want to vote her out, his dismissal of her professional experience had stung. When she’d confided her frustration in her role, she’d never imagined that he’d use what she’d said against her.

  “OK,” she conceded, “I’m not the senior person at work, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have any strategic input. And I think the homesteads might become more cohesive than you’re imagining. People form tribes and cliques really easily. I’ve seen that a lot. It seems to me that what will matter most is who the group doesn’t want to live with anymore. I think our best bet is just to work hard and get along, each of us, where we are.” And she knew she had a lot better head start on that than Scott did, whatever he said.

  He sighed. “Sweetheart. You know you’re a little unworldly, don’t you? Come on, now. You know that.”

  “Maybe I am,” she said, struggling to maintain her belief in her opinion. “But I’m pretty sure I’m right about this.”

  “You’re very sweet,” Scott said, his tone softening now, becoming affectionate. “And that’s your problem. You think everyone else is as nice as you, and that everyone plays by the rules they learned in kindergarten. Don’t you think that I know just a little more about how people maneuver and scheme, how to get them to do what I want, than you do? You don’t exactly have your dad wrapped around your finger, do you?”

  “No,” she said, the familiar hurt slashing at her self-confidence. “But that’s different. And I still think . . .”

  “Don’t think,” he coaxed. “You’re a nice, nonthreatening person, and people like you. That’s what you bring to the table. All I’m asking is, use a little more of that niceness on Martin and Melody. Because I’ve noticed you haven’t gone out of your way with them, or with Arlene either. You’ve been pretty cold and distant, in fact, and they’ve noticed. That’s not the way to get along out here. Don’t you think you ought to have been a little more friendly?”

  “I thought I was being nice,” she said with dismay. “Have I really seemed unfriendly?” Had Martin said something about her to Scott? “I didn’t mean to be. But . . .”

  “No buts,” he said, reaching out with his index finger to tap her on the nose. “You just work on that, and we’ll be all set. Now you go on over there and get started, and I’ll start charming my ladies.”

  He set off to join his homestead again, catching up with Arlene and Lupe and leaving Mira struggling with the logical argument she knew she should have made. Could have made, if she’d had a little more time and space to think it up.

  Kevin dropped back to walk with her, watching Scott with a speculative look on his face. “Let me guess,” he said. “Boyfriend’s instructing you on strategy.”

  “He has a name, you know,” she said, trying to rally her forces again.

  “He’s had a name in my cabin, too,” Kevin countered. “And I’m not using that one, out of concern for your delicate feelings. But come on, tell. What’s his brilliant strategic plan?”

  “What’s yours?” she countered. She wasn’t that naïve. Kevin had come to win, she knew that.

  “Eventually, to team up with you and Zara, vote the Big Strong Men out,” he answered promptly. “What do you think?”

  “I think I don’t want to say right now,” she said with a reluctant smile. “It’s too early. And I’m not going to make promises I might not be able to keep. Not good for my game or my soul.”

  He sighed. “I knew it was too easy. Not as soft as you look, are you?”

  “Not soft in the head, anyway,” she countered. “The first thing you learn in my job is not to take anything anybody says at face value, or to draw conclusions too quickly. I like you, and I’m not looking to vote you out. But I’m not making any alliances just yet.”

  “Well, you’ve got a point there,” Kevin admitted. “You don’t watch these things, but I can tell you, the mistake people make is playing their endgame too early. That’s why I said “eventually.” You have to keep that endgame in mind, of course, but at this stage you’re really just outrunning the bear.”

  “What bear?” she asked, diverted in spite of her caution.

  “You don’t have to be the fastest guy,” he explained. “You just have to be faster than the slowest guy. I’ve got a couple weeks here before I have to worry about the bear catching me. Not when Melody and Martin are offering themselves up as such tasty morsels. Now, you . . .”

  Kevin thought she was likely to be voted out? Then why was he trying to align with her? “I’m bear meat, hu
h?” she asked, trying to make a joke of it as the hurt rose inside.

  “Nope. I’ve got to plan for it to go either way, though. Because you’re up there running at the head of the pack, but Scott? He’s Tender Vittles.”

  By the time they had reached the turnoff to their separate homesteads, which, the drivers informed them, were about a mile apart, most of the group were looking fairly droopy, and conversation had fallen to a minimum. Mira had become increasingly tired, the unaccustomed layers of clothing and wide cotton skirt making for heavy going in the late-morning warmth. She said goodbye to Scott, nodded briefly at his whispered “Remember what you’re supposed to do,” then turned wearily onto the dirt road to Paradise. There’d be a lot to do when they got there, she knew. But at least she could stop walking.

  “You have got to be kidding,” she heard Kevin say loudly from his position in front of the wagon when the heavy thing lumbered to a stop at last. She walked up with Zara to see what he was looking at. And stopped dead in her turn.

  “Wow. I knew it’d be rustic, but . . .” she began.

  “Noooo!” Melody wailed from behind her. “This can’t be it! Where’s the real house?” she demanded of the driver.

  “That’s it,” he said with a not unsympathetic smile. “Home sweet home.”

  “Maybe once it’s cleaned up . . .” Mira began, looking dubiously at the rough cabin, the bark still clinging to the logs, with its few tiny, grimy windows and leaning tin stovepipe, set in the middle of a clearing of dirt and weeds.

  “It’s a shack!” Melody cried. “I thought it’d be cute, like a log cabin at a ski area. How are we supposed to live here?”

  “Well, let’s not get all lathered up yet,” Stanley cut in firmly. “Looks to me to be a creek over there. Let’s go sit a spell, pull a little water out of the well, eat this lunch you ladies packed us, and rest up before we tackle the rest of it.”

  “If y’all will grab the lunch,” he said to Zara, “the boys and I’ll unhitch the horses, be over to join you as soon as we tie up the animals in the shade and get them a drink of water themselves. Don’t eat all the sandwiches, now.”

  He winked at Zara, and she laughed in return. “We’ll do that,” she said. “See you in a bit. Come on, Melody. You’ll feel a lot better once you’ve rested and cooled off.”

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” Maria-Elena said plaintively to Mira.

  “Alma said there’d be a privy,” Mira said with a tired sigh. “Probably around back. Let’s look.”

  When the men joined them again under the willows and cottonwoods lining the stream, Melody had recovered some of her spirits. All the women had their boots and socks off and were soaking their tired feet in the creek, drinking ice-cold well water from the enamelware tin cups that they’d found in the back of the wagon next to the lunch. And Danny was already set up across from them, taking in the scene with his camera.

  “Saved the sandwiches for you,” Zara told Stanley as he sat down next to her. “We decided that getting cool came first.”

  “That looks like a great idea,” Gabe said, taking a spot between Mira and Maria-Elena despite Melody’s inviting smile. All the men began stripping off their own footwear with eager haste.

  “Ah,” Gabe sighed as his feet hit the water. “Cold. Beautiful.” He took the cup of water Mira held out to him and took a deep swig. “At least they gave us good boots,” he said.

  “You’re thankful for these boots?” Melody asked with disgust.

  “I sure am,” Gabe responded firmly, receiving a thick ham sandwich and an apple from Mira with a smile of thanks. “If they’d gone period with those, we’d all have had blisters by now, and I’d be busy doctoring you all up with my limited first-aid supplies, instead of relaxing. And imagine trying to do everything we have to do when your feet hurt. That would’ve made this a whole lot harder.”

  “I guess,” Melody said doubtfully. “They’re so ugly, though.” She looked with disgust at the clunky brown leather things with their many rows of thick laces. “And we’re supposed to wear them every day? One pair of shoes? We don’t even get sandals?”

  “How many pairs do you have at home?” Kevin asked lazily, lying back on the grassy stream bank. “Tell the truth, now.” He took a bite out of his apple and gave Melody a stern look.

  “I don’t know. Maybe a hundred?”

  “You have a hundred pairs of shoes?” Martin asked in astonishment.

  “Maybe more,” Melody confessed. “Maybe two hundred. I haven’t counted.”

  “Hey. Looking good’s serious business,” Kevin said at Martin’s snort of disgust. “Why, how many pairs do you have, Martin? Counting boots. Don’t forget those. Because I know you’ve got boots to do all your manly practicing in.”

  “No more than seven or eight,” Martin replied proudly. “I make sure I really need something before I add to my possessions. A hundred pairs of shoes seems like excessive consumerism to me. Think of all the resources they use. Arlene doesn’t have many more than that either, so you can’t tell me that women need them.”

  “Yes, but think of all the beauty Melody adds to the landscape,” Kevin pointed out. “It all balances out, surely. How about you, Mira? Got a hundred pairs of shoes?”

  “No,” she smiled. “Twenty, maybe.”

  “But here’s the $64,000 question,” Zara called out from her spot at the end of the line. “How many do you have, Glamour Boy?”

  “Ah,” Kevin said, waggling his eyebrows, mischievous brown eyes dancing. “That’s telling. And I don’t want Martin to report me to the Resource Police. More than Mira, fewer than Melody. And that’s all I’m going to say.”

  “Do you want a sandwich, Danny?” Mira asked once she’d finished distributing the lunch. “We’ve got a couple more here. More apples, too.”

  “No, I’m good,” the cameraman said, taking a swig from his water bottle. “Just ignore me.”

  “How are you eating, though?” she persisted.

  He sighed. “I’m not supposed to talk to you. But OK, just this once. I’ll be switching off with the other guys. We get our breaks and meals, don’t worry about that. Union rules. We have everything we need back at the production base.”

  The group of mobile homes housing Cliff and the numerous production crew, Mira knew. She’d never been sure where it was located. The cameramen just appeared and disappeared, seemingly at random. The only constant was that whatever they had done at the camp, there had always been someone filming. Except when they were in their own cabins, but she guessed that was about to change.

  “How many of you are assigned to us?” she asked, curious about the logistics of it. “Are you going to be in the cabin too? And what about at night?”

  “Eight for each camp,” Danny said. “Day and night, inside and outside, just about everyplace but the outhouse. It’s what Cliff said. If you don’t want us to see it, don’t do it.”

  “Wow, all night?” Zara asked lazily, leaning back on her elbows and paddling her feet in the water. “What do you think is going to be happening? True confessions? Knife fights? Group sex?”

  “You never know,” Danny said with a grin. “One can only hope.”

  They all felt better after they’d eaten. “OK,” Stanley said resignedly, drying his feet off with his socks and beginning to pull things on again. “Break’s over, people. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  “Couldn’t we, like, camp out tonight and start work tomorrow once we aren’t so tired?” Melody asked. She was lying down on her back now, her blouse unbuttoned to the top of her chemise to reveal a generous amount of cleavage, her skirt pulled up past her knees to show off her shapely legs, and Mira could see that Danny had his camera focused on her. Well, no question she was the most photogenic woman out here. She somehow managed to look good even in these frumpy clothes. She even had pretty feet.

  “What would we eat?” Zara asked. “We’d have to set up a whole camp. Just as much work. And what about the animal
s? Let’s go. Up.” She gave Maria-Elena a look that had the girl fumbling with her own shoes and socks. Mira was already there, and the two of them went ahead with the men to check out the homestead, which Mira had barely taken in before in her haste to find the outhouse.

  “We’ve got a well, and a privy,” Zara said practically to Mira and Gabe once they were standing in front of the cabin again. “And a cabin.”

  “All the necessities,” Mira agreed wryly.

  “Then let’s bite the bullet and look inside.”

  Cleaning Ladies

  Gabe reached for a piece of paper tacked to the cabin door, which hung a bit drunkenly from its leather hinges. “You’ve been fortunate enough,” he read aloud, “to find an abandoned cabin on your land, left by the last unsuccessful occupants, who failed to improve the land during their five years and forfeited their homestead.”

  He raised his eyebrows at the two women. “Lucky us. After you.” He stepped aside for them to enter. Mira walked in behind Zara, and nearly gagged on the smell. She turned around hastily and cannoned straight into Gabe.

  “Whoa,” he said, taking her by the upper arms to steady her, then pulling her across the threshold again, Zara close behind them.

  “All righty then,” Zara said grimly. “We’ve got our work cut out for us. How did they manage to get it that nasty? That took some effort.”

  Stanley came around from the back of the cabin. “Looks like we’ve all got some work to do,” he reported. “Lean-to back there. We fix that up, make some shakes and nail them over the holes, we’ll have us a chicken coop, storage for some feed. Partition it off, we can put the tools in there too,” he mused. “I’ll get going on that. Because if we don’t get those chickens into some good shelter by nightfall, they’re going to get eaten by the coyotes, dog or no dog.” He gave Daisy a quick thump on the shoulder. “Don’t want to give you too much to do, girl.”