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ness in her head. She forced herself back to calmness. There was an explanation. |
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Her progress was slow, thanks to her headache and a touch of vertigo. Plus, the area that, in modern Pittsburgh, had been flat and covered with paving or grass was uneven, rutted dirt here. |
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The temperature seemed warmer than when she'd awakened, and the heat added to her discomfort. She glanced at her wrist and wasn't surprised to learn she'd lost her watch. Looking at the sky, she saw the sun nearly straight overhead, and she assumed the time to be nearly noon. The high humidity added to the discomfort of her aching head. |
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She wished she could at least bare part of her arms, but, unhooking the buttons of her heavy dress at the wrists, found the material too bulky to stay rolled. |
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Eventually, she reached the set resembling a town. It was just a conglomeration of maybe a dozen buildings, plunked down on what appeared to be an embryonic layout of a city, with dirt streets somewhat parallel. All structures were of wood, most of natural, unplaned logs daubed in between with mud, though a few actually used sawed boards. Most were tiny. One of the larger ones had a sign at the door: Allen Traders. A signpost outside another, from which raucous laughter and the smell of ripe liquor emanated, proclaimed it the Pittsburgh Tavern. |
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She peered around the buildings. They were whole structures, not the facades common to movie sets. She sniffed at Angela's extravagance. This film had better be a box-office hit to earn back its expenses. |
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With the screenplay she'd read, that kind of success was a real possibility. Especially with the development of the Thorn character. |
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What actor had Angela gotten to portray him? Mariah was dying to know. |
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A man exited the building marked "Traders." He wore a wrinkled and dirty white shirt over equally filthy pants. He touched his hair as though to doff a cap. "Morning, miss." He regarded her curiously. |
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