Season of Fear (7 page)

"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.

"To tell you the truth, I've fallen in love with Montana," Robin laughed. "This fresh air is too good to be true."

"And the ranch? How are things with the Ridleys?" The old woman's alert blue eyes gazed directly into Robin's, and in a single instant, the girl knew she had to put up no pretences about her visit with the spritely woman before her.

"I've come to find out about the tragedy at the ranch five years ago, Mrs. Manchester."

"What else?" the woman said matter-of-factly. "You'd be less than human not to bristle a bit as the rumors fly by. What do you want to know?"

"I think that someone should get to the bottom of this whole thing, Mrs. Manchester. It's absolutely horrible how the clouds of distrust and suspicion huddle over everyone at the ranch after all this time. I want to find out the truth."

"You think you can find out anything now, five years later?"

"Perhaps. From what I hear, no one ever tried."

"True enough. Afraid of what they may find, I reckon. Fact is, I consider the Ridley family the same as my own. I'd do anything to clear up this mystery. But I'm an old woman. It's not easy, Robin. There may be people who would resent you getting mixed up in it at all."

Robin said. "I still think I ought to try."

Mrs. Manchester laughed. "You remind me of myself about fifty years ago, young lady. Anyone ever tell you that you were stubborn ?"

"My father. He told me that almost every day."

"Smart man, your father. Well, here's the story. Alex met Laura years ago on a trip to New York to get some newfangled machinery for the ranch. She had always lived in the city. He had always lived in open spaces, so right away they had a difference or two. But they were very young and they were married very quickly. That was almost seventeen years ago. Alex hadn't had much experience with women, and he had fallen head over heels with a pretty face, so to speak. She had latched onto him while recuperating from a broken romance with a society fellow. They were both good people, mind you. I loved them both. But they never should have been married to each other, never in a million years. They were two totally different people.

"Well, he brought her back to the Ridley Ranch, and a year later the twins were born. Oh, such beautiful babies they were!

"I had been at the Ridley Ranch since Alex's father was a young man. I had helped take care of Alex himself when he was a little strapper. It was so good to have babies in the house again.

"Their marriage was a disaster, though, by any definition of the word. But they struggled and worked to keep the family together for the children. Then little Gregory was born, and something happened. Laura suddenly demanded that Alex sell the ranch. She wanted to go back to the city. They fought. They fought so bitterly. It went on for years. It used to tear my heart out. By the time the twins were eleven, I thought they were ready to make decisions. But then one day they had a blowup, a lot of angry words and feelings. Then they seemed to come to an agreement, and they saddled up and rode out onto the range together. Mr. Alex came back alone, and it wasn't until the next day that they found poor Laura."

"You knew them both so well, Mrs. Manchester. Do you think Alex killed his wife?"

"He could no more have raised that rock than he could have moved a mountain, Robin. That's the truth. It had to be an accident."

"But Sara is so sure it was no accident."

"She was only a child. How could she be sure?"

"She saw them leave, Mrs. Manchester. She said her mother was positively wearing her riding helmet. There was no helmet at the accident."

"Helmet?" the old woman asked slowly. "Everyone supposed Laura had been too upset to bother with a helmet. They said that was why she had hit her head when she fell. You say Sara saw..."

Robin nodded her head slowly as the horror slowly crept across the wrinkled face.

"But that means—but that means—then someone took the helmet. Someone was out on that prairie that day. It was no accident!"

The two women sat staring at each other for some time.

Then Robin spoke. "Do you see why we've got to get to the bottom of this, Mrs. Manchester? Everyone in that house and in this town silently suspects Alex. He's lived with that painful knowledge for five long years."

"And those of us who did believe in him made no effort to clear his name, thinking there was no evidence. Imagine a murderer has been running around scot free."

"But who would have any reason to want to end Laura's life? That's where we've got to start."

Mrs. Manchester stared at the floor. "Robin, I've never told this to another soul. But it may have something to do with this. I'm certain, quite certain, that Laura had been seeing someone else in the last year of her life. Someone who had something to do with the ranch, and who she cared for greatly."

"Who?"

"That's what I don't know. I never brought it up after her death, thinking it would just cause Alex more pain. But there was someone, that's for certain. I suppose people would say that was another motive for Alex to kill his wife."

"But he didn't do it. He couldn't. I know that somehow. It's got to be someone else, and I'm going to find out who it was." Robin rose to leave. "Thank you for helping me, Mrs. Manchester. Can I stop by some other time so we can get our heads together?"

"Any time, Robin. It's a pleasure to have met you. You're a determined lady, and Alex is lucky to have you!" Her eyes were twinkling and Robin blushed.

"I'm just trying to do justice, Mrs. Manchester. A man should be able to prove himself innocent in a matter like this."

Robin left the little woman behind her with a wave and headed down the street to the far corner where she had left the jeep.

"Alex is lucky to have you," Mrs. Manchester had said. What had she meant by that? Robin was pursuing this mystery because the injustice of the whole situation had upset her feelings of right and wrong. There was nothing personal in it at all. Or was there?

Chapter 7