A Thousand Miles

Part 9

JoLynn pulled open the door to her one bedroom, ground level apartment to find Curtis standing on her stoop, hand poised to ring the bell.

"You're almost late." She pulled him in by the arm, propelling him into her tiny living room where Mel and Shane were parked on the sofa, ready and waiting.

"You say, 'almost late,' I say 'right on time.'" Curtis dropped into the recliner just as the instrumental arrangement of Waltz Across Texas signaled the opening credits of their show.

No matter how many times during the editing process she had to look at the footage for each episode, JoLynn always experienced a special thrill when air time came. Their custom as a crew was to get together every Saturday night they weren't on the road when a new show aired. The time slot wasn't ideal—ten thirty p.m., between the ten o'clock news and whatever came on at eleven. But they'd developed a loyal, if small, audience.

JoLynn bit one fingernail, as if she hadn't already seen this episode twenty times. This shouldn't still make her so nervous, should it? Just the thought that this one didn't belong solely to them anymore, that there could be any number of people sitting in their own homes right now watching...it made her giddy.

The opening faded and the scene changed to a wooded area they'd found near Mission San Jose. Curtis had darted in and out of the trees with the camera on his shoulder, trying to capture the point of view of an advancing regiment. Shane added the voice over, describing what the scene must have looked and felt like to a Texan soldier about to clash with Santa Anna's mighty Mexican army, which would have, of course, been taking an afternoon siesta at the time.

JoLynn cast a glance Shane's way but his expression was inscrutable except for the critically furrowed eyebrows. Was he simply concentrating, or did he disapprove? She couldn't tell. His rousing battle cry, Remember the Alamo! pulled her attention back to the television in time to see the cut they'd made to the Alamo, bustling with modern day activity.

She smiled. He'd been right about that. And the admission wasn't even difficult for her at this point. Not that what they'd done had been high drama. But they'd never opened a show so theatrically before. It worked. Shane's advice had been sound and in the best interest of the show. He'd proven to be a team player these past few weeks, not at all bent on revamping the show and stealing it away.

The next cut was to her and Shane in front of the Alamo, introducing who and where they were.

"You never did tell us where you got that hat." Mel inclined her head toward the screen, referring to the coon skin, Davey Crockett cap he'd worn that day.

"I have my sources." Shane's tone was enigmatic.

"What sources?" Curtis reached for the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. "You mean the dollar store?"

Shane shrugged. "Hey, you say, 'dollar store,' I say, 'let's go.'"

Mel rolled her eyes, and JoLynn grinned. Better keep to herself the suspicion that everyone in Tennessee owned a coon skin cap. It would only elicit a barrage of comments about the kind of hats that people from Texas wear. She'd rather watch the rest of the show. In peace.