Sara took off at a ferocious pace as Robin eased Lady-fingers slowly around and took the same direction for home. Her pulse was still pounding, her mind and legs still like jelly. For she knew that it was only a lot of luck and the quick response of Ladyfingers beneath her that had stood between her and certain harm beneath the vicious hoofs of the wild black horse.
There was more to Sara than met the eye.
Chapter 5
Robin met Mr. Ridley in the front hallway that afternoon, having just vowed to herself to keep Sara's strange behavior to herself until she could have a chance to think about it. She cleared her throat nervously as she approached his towering figure, unsure of what his reaction to her questions about her job would be.
But his suntanned face was smiling; he looked relaxed. "Hello, Robin, how's your first full day at Ridley Ranch been? You look as though you've been riding."
And indeed she did: Wearing her riding clothing, holding her helmet, her fair hair now tumbling down around her shoulders, her face flushing with healthfulness from her day on the range.
"Yes, Mr. Ridley, and I'm glad I've run into you. There's something I wish to discuss with you."
"Please, since everyone here insists on calling you by your first name, then you must do the same. Let's drop that formal Mr. Ridley and just shorten it to Alex instead."
"Certainly," she stammered. The gruff side of Alexander Ridley was hidden, and the charming, pleasant side she had glimpsed once before had emerged.
"Now, Robin, what's on your mind?"
"It's about my duties, Alex." She tried the name on for size, and it sounded very natural. "I've been over the books with Cook this morning, and there are a few points—"
"So," he interrupted. "You feel there is too much for you to take on? You can't handle it?"
She could see the sarcastic light beginning to shine once again in his eyes, see him begin to mentally label her as incompetent, a fortune hunter.
"That's not the problem at all," she said angrily. "If you'll just let me explain—"
"Then maybe certain rumors have reached your ears, Robin? I'm sure you've heard that I'm the murderer of Ridley Ranch. And now I suppose you no longer care to stay." The coolness in his voice was like ice.
Robin stood shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her temper was rising strongly within her, anger aimed both at the paradoxical man who stood before her, always ready to assume the worst in people, and at the gross miscarriage of justice that had forced him to be so defensive, carrying the burden of suspicion, silently accused of a horrible crime, with no chance to ever clear his name.
But, like his daughter, he was living with the past, living with events that could not be changed. Life had to go on. He had no right to make everyone else miserable.
"If you would stop feeling sorry for yourself for as much as a moment, you might be surprised at what you'd hear. I have heard the malicious gossip that surrounds Ridley Ranch, and I've dismissed it as such. That has nothing to do with what I have to say to you."
Her eyes were flaring, her face was burning with rage. She squared her shoulders and drew her head up to look him directly in the face, unsure of what his reaction to her words would be.
But again he surprised her. Instead of indignation, instead of anger and suspicion in his proud face, she saw a flash of embarrassment, an intimate glimpse into a man who realized that he had hurt someone with his words, and who regretted his actions. It was gone almost as soon as it had come, and for a second Robin wondered if she had imagined it, seen something that she had only hoped could be there. For now his face was smiling, politely and coolly.
"Then speak. Robin. I'm listening. What is the problem that you're talking about?"
"I knew this may seem out of the ordinary, sir, but I feel I have to bring it up. After going through the books this morning. I feel I can certainly complete the necessary duties in much less than a full day. The salary you're paying me is much too generous."
"I'm paying you too much?" He laughed heartily, in disbelief, and the sound of it made something stir in Robin's heart. She pushed the feeling away.
"I'm sure Mrs. Manchester took much longer with the tasks when she was in charge of them, Robin. She was becoming very old and frail, but a very important member of the household. But you're young. You don't have any need to tie yourself to a job for the entire day. Just keep this place running smoothly, and I don't care what you do with your spare time."
"But it isn't fair, Alex. I'm not a guest here, I'm an employee and I've got to pull my weight."
"I must say it's the first time I've met anyone who wanted more work for themselves. But if that's what you want, fine. I have an additional responsibility you can take on. Spend as much of your free time with the twins and Gregory as you can this summer. They are sorely in need of adult guidance and interest. I'm sure they would benefit from being in your company."
Robin thought of Sara's gloating face on the back of her horse that afternoon. She thought of Jacob's sneering glance in the garden. The children were in need of something, that was for sure. But could she give it to them?
"I'm very willing to do as you ask," she ventured, "but I have a feeling they would benefit even more greatly from a little attention from you."
He stared at her in shocked silence.
After a moment he answered her in a strained voice. "Yes, Fm sure you're right. But the ranch takes so much of my time. No, that's not entirely true. The truth is sometimes I find it difficult to communicate with them. The events of the past have, uh, clouded things a little."
"What's past is past."
"Thank you for that. It's a lesson we sorely need around here. I can see you're a girl who'll leave no stone unturned." He was smiling. "All right, little meddler, I'll try to spend some time with them. Will that suit you?"
She laughed happily as they shook hands, suddenly feeling light and carefree. How could he have such an effect on her, when only minutes before she was so angry at him she could have screamed? He was so unpredictable, one minute cool and polite, the next angry and accusing, the next happy and relaxed. A man with an ugly temper, and suspected of even uglier things. How could he make her feel so alive?
Robin slipped down the hall and out the sliding glass door to the poolside garden to be alone with her thoughts.
She sat down in one of the gaily flowered lounge chairs by the pool. With a grunt, she tugged off her high leather riding boots, then stretched her long legs out before her. It was peaceful here. The late afternoon sun was not quite as bright, a small but noticeable breeze gently wisped at her loose hair. Somewhere a radio was playing. Slight strains of a country tune reached her ears.
She began to drift off to sleep.
* * *
"How many times do I have to tell you, you young idiot! Get that thing away from there!"
She snapped awake to the sound of Alex's angry voice, and spun out of her chair. But he wasn't addressing her at all, she saw.
She thought she had been alone when she had dropped into her comfortable chair, but she had failed to see the slender tanned body of Jacob as he lay dozing on the diving board across the pool, his radio by his side. The long extension cord ran from an outside socket in the wall of the house.
"If that radio falls in the water, you could kill somebody! Now get it away from the pool."
"I have no intention of electrocuting anyone, Father," Jacob grimaced.
"Good intentions do not always turn out as we expect, young man."
"I can imagine you know all about it. Just like falling off a horse, I'll bet."
Alex's face turned a queer shade of purple. With his teeth clenched, he stood, enraged, looking at his son.
But then he was gone, wordlessly, striding stiffly back into the house.
"Do you enjoy taunting him so, Jacob?" Robin asked. "Do you like bringing pain to people?"
"Ah, Robin. I didn't hear you arrive. I must have been dozing. You think I'm some kind of mo
nster, don't you?"
"Something like that."
"Sara says you think we should forget about the past. Let the murderer go unpunished. Is that right?"
"It does you no good to accuse people who cannot defend themselves. You have no proof."
"And how would it be if we did have proof? What if my father was undeniably proven the killer?"
"What if he was undeniably acquitted?"
"Fat chance."
"Someone ought to dig into this once and for all, and find out what really happened."
"The killer may not agree with you. Take some advice, Robin. Stay out of the situations that don't concern you."
"How about the last housekeeper? How did she feel?"
"Mrs. Manchester? She felt Father could do no wrong. She's a nice old lady. Sometimes I miss her. She lives in one of the houses on Main Street in town."
"I may stop in for a visit some time. I'd like to hear what she thinks of this whole thing."
"Please, Robin." His face was suddenly white. "Don't open Pandora's box. Don't stir up any more trouble."
"It sounds like Pandora's box was opened five long years ago, Jacob, and the people around here have not let it close. I can't make miracles, but I am going to try to find out the truth."
He left her and walked into the house, his radio at his side.
Would Mrs. Manchester be able to give her any information? Was there anyone who could give her an unbiased account of the story? And did she really want to know? A shiver passed over Robin. She wanted to prove Alexander Ridley innocent. But what if her meddling proved him guilty?
Chapter 6
When Robin opened her eyes on Saturday morning, her room was still blanketed in darkness. The clock proclaimed the time to be seven o'clock, so she rose and pulled back the long draperies to expose the first sunless day that she had experienced since her arrival in Montana. The sky overhead was an unusual shade of purplish gray. Without the friendly sun shining high in the sky, the prairie beyond the house had a dreary, lonely look. She had no desire to ride today'
She dressed quickly and slipped to the kitchen to complete her daily books. Once her duties were out of the way, she hoped to drive the few miles into town to do some shopping for herself, as well as pick up the supplies for the family. Maybe she would even talk Sara into coming with her, since she had promised Alex that she'd keep an eye on her.
When Sara sleepily wandered to the kitchen two hours later. Robin brought up the excursion and Sara readily agreed.
"Sure, Robin. Anything to get away from this dreary place. Even the people of Hamilton with their frozen smiles will be a relief from these same old faces every day."
Robin didn't comment, but as they left the house together, she silently pocketed the keys to the jeep. She'd take no more rides with Sara the Speed Demon if she could help it!
Sara didn't seem to mind not occupying the driver's seat.
She used the time it took to reach town to lay her head back and take in a little more sleep.
"Do you think it's going to rain?" Robin asked. "That could be a bit uncomfortable in an open jeep."
"Naw. I doubt it. It's just heavy and dark now. It'll probably rain later, but we've got plenty of time."
They stopped at one of the local shops so Robin could pick up a few casual clothes. Since jeans seemed to be the order of the day—even the never-tiring cook wore them for her work in the kitchen of the ranch—Robin wanted to stock up on a few more pairs.
In an amazingly short time, they emerged from the shop, laden with brown paper bags filled with a variety of jeans and plaid shirts. Robin was wearing one of the new outfits. Walking along the cracked cement sidewalk beside Sara's swinging gait, she felt she already blended more with the western surroundings.
The sky was even darker as they moved down the gray street; a hot breeze was whipping up little clouds of dust along the way.
"I'll get the groceries while you do the rest of your shopping," Sara volunteered. "We may have less time before the storm than I thought. I'll meet you in the luncheonette."
They parted with a wave. Robin headed into the small old-fashioned drugstore on the corner of the block. She enjoyed looking around. Finally, the cash register rang delightfully as the elderly pharmacist rang up her purchases: a few personal items, two magazines, and a book of poetry from the rack in the front of the store.
"You be the new housekeeper out Ridley's way, I bet."
"Why, yes. I am. My name is Robin North. I'm from Chicago."
"Jonas Clark here. Glad to meetcha." He gave her a steady look over the top of his half-rimmed glasses. "You take care of yourself out there, young lady, hear?"
"I certainly will," she said with a smile that she did not feel. Why did everyone take it upon themselves to warn her about the Ridleys? It really brought out the stubborn streak in her. Her stubbornness was something her father had constantly chided her about. Her stubbornness and her sense of right and wrong. Well, both of those traits were bubbling in her now, and she left the shop quickly and hurried over to the luncheonette.
The bell above the door gave its tinkling warning as Robin stepped onto the well-worn linoleum floor of the luncheonette.
"Howdy," came Mary's deep voice from behind the counter. "And how do you find life at the ranch with the Ridleys these days? Exciting, I imagine. You never know what will happen next." Her tone was cheerful, interested on the surface, but Robin sensed an almost imperceptible undercurrent of malicious prying.
Her eyes instantly scanned the room, almost empty except for a few scattered customers. Yes, Sara was in one of the booths, and Robin could see the telltale red spots on her proud cheeks, evidence that she, too, had sensed the biting meaning of Mary's remark.
Robin pulled herself up and walked casually to the counter. "Why. Mary, it's nice of you to ask. The fact is, things are going very well at the ranch. Couldn't be better."
She turned and headed for Sara's booth, leaving a startled Mary behind, a Mary slightly embarrassed by her overt cattiness and the lack of response it had evoked.
It wasn't until Robin was within a few feet of the booth that she noticed that Sara was not alone. A man sat with his back to the door, a man in a faded blue shirt with a mass of wavy dark hair. For a wary instant, Robin was afraid she was going to come face to face with the aggressive ranch hand whom she had met so uncomfortably in the ranch office. But the face that turned to greet her was happily a new one. The men were similar, certainly, the same hair, build, clothing, but the resemblance ended there. The man whom Sara introduced as Mac Dreyson was younger, perhaps twenty-four or twenty-five. His face was handsome, in a choirboy way, his manner polite.
"Why, hello, Robin. I'm glad we've finally met. I've been hearing about you at the ranch for a few days now."
"You're also from the ranch then?"
"You bet. I've worked for Alex Ridley for six years now. I live in one of the bunkhouses by the barns."
"But he's much more than a hand. Aren't you, Mac?" Sara said. She was gazing at him proudly across the table; her eyes were glittering in a starry way. There was no doubt about it. Sara was, or at least thought she was, very much in love with the young man.
"Well, I do help Mr. Alex in the office once in a while, and Duke Filbert calls me his right-hand man."
"Duke Filbert? I don't think I've met him."
"Oh, sure you have, Robin. He's the foreman for Mr. Ridley. He said he met you when you were in the office one day, and I must say, you're even prettier than he said."
Duke Filbert. Robin felt her hand go instinctively to her arm where he had so gruffly grabbed her that day in the hall. He now had a name. And a position. Foreman. She felt her skin prickle. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of being discussed by the men in the bunkhouses.
She sat and studied the young man before her as they all refreshed themselves with tall cool glasses of cola. His face was anxious, somehow, insecure. His eyes had a way of darting back and forth when he spoke
that Robin found disconcerting.
But Sara, Sara was a different story. She hung on his every word. In the course of the conversation, Robin could sense that he had a kind of hero worship for Duke, the foreman of the ranch. Mac wore his hair the same way; he attempted to use some of the same gestures, too. But where they came naturally to Duke, they only tended to make Mac seem stilted, groping.
It's a pity, Robin thought to herself, that he doesn't work on developing his own good points, being himself, instead of trying to imitate Duke Filbert.
Mac was offering to give Sara a lift back to the ranch, which she more than happily accepted. Sara would probably go to the ends of the earth with him, Robin realized, seeing the gaze of adoration as her eyes followed him to the cash register where he paid the check. To be sixteen and so gullible! Robin watched them leave with the silent prayer that Sara wouldn't end up with a broken heart.
Finding herself alone in town was an unexpected gift. She set out to find the house of Mrs. Manchester, glad that no one from the ranch would voice his or her objections.
The house wasn't difficult to find. It sat on one end of the short main street, boasting a fresh coat of paint. "Manchester" was printed neatly on a little sign over the door. Robin rang the bell.
The old face that appeared at the door was a friendly one.
"Mrs. Manchester?" Robin said.
"Right you be! And whom do I have the honor of greeting?"
Robin's face lighted up with a smile. Mrs. Manchester was the type of person who inspired smiling.
"I'm Robin North. I—"
"From the ranch! Ah, don't be surprised. In a town like this, most folks don't have much else to do but talk, so they talk a lot. So how do you compare our little town to Chicago?"
She ushered Robin into the living room, which was neat as a pin. She took off her apron and smoothed her faded housedress.
Season of Fear Page 4
