Season of Fear Page 2

  "I'm sure you'll get a complete tour of everything later, so I'll just tell you a little about our setup here. The house is built in a large square, each side being a different wing. The center of the square is an open garden, with a swimming pool and recreational equipment.

  "The front part of the house is the main part—living room, dining room, study, game room. The east wing houses the family bedrooms. The west wing is the kitchen and servants' quarters. Father uses the back rooms for ranch offices and meeting rooms, and scattered everywhere we have a few spare bedrooms for guests. Not that we have many guests anymore."

  Sara's brow furrowed, and she suddenly became serious. "Here, Robin, let me show you to your room."

  They walked to the left of the house, down a long, low corridor, passing the open doors of the living room and dining room, where Robin got a glimpse of the tasteful luxury in which the family lived. They entered the west wing, and the clatter of kitchen noises reached their ears.

  "I'll introduce you to the rest of the staff later. I'm sure you'll want to rest up a bit. We've got a cook and three girls who come daily to help in the house, and handful of men who do the outside gardening. And the ranch hands, of course. A few live in the bunkhouses out by the barns. The rest come out from town each day."

  Mary's words came echoing back in Robin's ears. No one wants to live in at the Ridley Ranch.

  There were several bedrooms behind the kitchen, but most of them were closed up and unused. One door stood invitingly open, however, and Sara headed for that one.

  "I really didn't think you'd be coming, Robin, but I had the girls fix up this room, just in case. It's my favorite over here. I hope you like it."

  And she did. One wall was almost entirely glass, giving a breathtaking view of the prairie beyond the house, shaded by summery drapes of cornflower blue. The remaining walls were delicately papered in a wildflower print. The blue carpet beneath their feet was soft to the step. The furniture was light and modern, including a large bed, looking inviting to Robin's tired eyes, a dresser, writing desk, and matching bed tables. The room had its own adjoining bath, fresh and sparkling.

  "It's lovely, Sara. If you selected this for me, you couldn't have chosen better." She was touched with the consideration the teenager showed. "What did your father have to say?"

  Sara grimaced. "Oh, he didn't say a thing. He wants nothing to do with us or with the running of the house. All he cares about is the running of his precious cattle ranch. You'll see. You'll be much happier if you just stay out of his way. I've never seen anyone with a worse temper. But I really hope he'll let you stay, Robin. I think we'd get along."

  Robin smiled, hoping she looked friendly, and hiding her concern. "I think I'll rest for a while, Sara. Call me when your father wants to see me." And Sara bobbed out the door, her braids swinging as she walked.

  Robin peeled off her clothes and wrapped herself in a thin cotton robe.

  I'll just nap for a moment, she told herself, and then I'll feel better. No sense in unpacking when I may be on the next bus back to Chicago.

  She was not even sure she'd want to stay on at the Ridley Ranch, with its unhappy past and preoccupied owner. But one thing was sure. Montana had cast a spell over her. She lay her head down on the pillow and was asleep before another thought could enter her head.

  Chapter 3

  Robin opened her eyes, awakened by a tap on the door. By the angle of the sun now streaming in the window of her room, she knew that the afternoon had passed. The sun sinking in the sky marked the approach of evening. She had slept for hours!

  It was Sara at the door, as she had expected, informing Robin that her father wanted her to meet him in the living room before the evening meal.

  "I'll be dressed in a moment, and I'll rush right there." Robin remembered the stately room they had passed on their first walk through the house.

  She bathed quickly and donned a cool summer dress, its flowery print giving her a cheerful, refreshed look. She ran a comb through her long blond hair, deciding suddenly to wear it demurely twisted and pinned to the back of her head. It made her feel older somehow, less like a frivolous girl of twenty-two just out of school. She pushed down the nervousness that was arising in her, determined to remain cool and collected in the dreaded meeting that was to come.

  The sound of her footsteps as she walked down the slate-floored hallway echoed in her ears.

  "Ah, finally, Miss North, here you are." The deep, full voice boomed from the open doorway of the living room. Alexander Ridley had been waiting for her, and not too patiently.

  "Good evening, Mr. Ridley." Robin handed him the envelope she had clung to so readily on the bus.

  He gave it only a perfunctory glance.

  "Yes, well, Miss North, as my daughter has no doubt informed you, I'm afraid you do not exactly meet the expectations I have had for a housekeeper."

  Robin stood quietly awaiting her dismissal.

  "However," he went on, "For several reasons, I have decided to give you a chance for a trial. Herman Robinson seems to think quite highly of you, and so I'm certain that you are well qualified for the job. You've traveled quite some distance. My daughter seems to have taken a liking to you, and I'm sure it will be good for her to have someone closer to her age around for companionship while she's home for the summer. Also, it's not easy to find individuals who are eager to live so far from town."

  He crossed the room, and looked out a large window, turning his back to her.

  "I will," he added, "continue my search for someone whom I consider more suitable, but in the meantime, you may stay with us."

  Robin could feel the color rising in her cheeks, her mind stymied by guilt and anger. What would he say, she wondered, if she were to blurt her real relationship to Herman, to admit that she was lacking the experience she claimed? He would immediately rate her with the "fortune hunters" of which Sara had spoken.

  With his back to her, Robin could look at him objectively for the first time. His hair was longish and very blond, such a contrast to the shiny darkness of Sara. His skin was weathered and tanned by the sun. His muscular body looked much at home in the faded Levi's and workshirt he was wearing. She guessed his age to be around thirty-six, and she had to admit to herself that he was indeed handsome. He looked more like a young hired hand than the rich owner of the Ridley Ranch.

  "Another thing, Miss North," he said, turning back and interrupting her thoughts, "I do not care to be bothered with the petty details of running a household. While you're in my employ, I shall expect you to handle any crisis that may arise. Sara and cook will familiarize you with the outline of your duties, as they've been sharing the responsibility since our other housekeeper left us. Have I made myself clear?"

  "Very clear, Mr. Ridley," Robin said between her teeth, growing angry at being treated like a laboratory experiment that was bound to fail. She would show him! She would run his house efficiently and effectively, and she would do it without running to him with her problems like the inept child that he seemed to think she was. But she would do it without cowering before this authoritarian employer. She would keep her self-respect or she would not stay.

  "I'll begin my duties in the morning, Mr. Ridley, and I assure you, you will be more than satisfied with my work. The question that arises in my mind concerns the matter of whether I'll find the Ridley Ranch the type of atmosphere in which I desire to work, even for such a temporary time. I won't bother you with the petty details that you seem to detest, but I will review my responsibilities and inform you of my opinion of the job and resulting decision."

  She turned on her heel to exit from the room when he threw back his head and gave a loud laugh. She stopped in her tracks.

  "Excellent, Robin North, excellent. I have a feeling we have no milksop city girl on our hands!"

  She turned to face him, and he held out his hand. He was smiling now and acting pleasant. She shook it doubtfully as he went on. "For the life of me, I can't imagine why you have
adopted the career of housekeeper, but whatever the reason, welcome aboard."

  Was he so curious about her? Would he begin prying into her background and come up with the roots of her deceit? But he changed the subject. "We'll expect you to eat with the family, as most of our help comes in after breakfast and leaves before dinner, with the exception of Cook." He cleared his throat, and the gruff air descended upon him once again.

  "Our employees prefer to live in town."

  She remembered Mary's fear of Alexander Ridley.

  As if reading her thoughts, suddenly he seemed in a hurry to leave the room. "Dinner is in a half hour, Miss North, and now, if you'll excuse me."

  And he was gone. What an unusual man, she thought. He seemed to be two different personalities, one gruff and overbearing, angry at the world; one delightfully relaxed and charming. Which was the real Alexander Ridley?

  Adding Sara's comments to her own perceptions, she had a sinking feeling of which one it might be. And if that were the case, the length of her employ at the Ridley Ranch might go down in the book of records as one of the shortest in history!

  Knowing that she had a half hour to kill before the family assembled for dinner. Robin decided to explore the main section of the house. She departed from the living room, decorated in its cool green and blue shades.

  The dining room opened into the living area, the clean lines of the long mahogany table and stylish chairs further enhanced the feeling of designer decorating that ran through the house. Further along the hallway Robin came to the main foyer, the plant-filled entrance that she and Sara had come through only hours before. Following the hallway past the doorway, she found the game room, equipped with pool table, stereo, television, and comfortable stuffed furniture that showed signs of much use. This room gave off an aura of hominess.

  Across the hall she opened a door to find a charming, book-filled study. The walls that were not covered with volumes of books were paneled in dark wood. The soft plush carpet was beige, as were the draperies that hung at the large windows, still open to allow the last rays of the summer sun to filter through the glass.

  She slipped out one of the sliding glass doors in the game room and escaped to the garden.

  Robin's first impression of the garden was amazement at its size. The sprawling house surrounded it on every side, and there were many doors, like the one she had just come through, in each wing. The kidney-shaped pool was surrounded by gay deck chairs, and umbrella-covered tables were dotted here and there. Small, well-kept beds of flowers were spaced along the walls, and the lush lawn was green and thick. In such hot summer weather, it must take quite a lot of care to keep this oasis so bright and fresh. A basketball backboard rose on a pole in the far corner, another reminder that a family lived in this picture-perfect world.

  Even though the sun was sinking fast in the sky, now just a pinkish-and-orange glow on the horizon, the heat of the summer day was still almost overwhelming, so Robin turned to retreat once more to the coolness of the air-conditioned house.

  Someone was waiting for her at the door. A quick glance was all she needed to recognize Sara's twin brother, Jacob. The dark hair, the olive-colored skin, the questioning eyes—all were identical to his female twin. His body was fuller, he stood a little taller, the locks of black hair fell forward into his eyes, but the similarity was there.

  "You must be Jacob." Robin smiled.

  "That took no great intuition, Miss North, seeing as you're already acquainted with my sister," he said, politely, to be sure, but Robin was certain she could detect an air of hostility beneath the surface of his voice. His eyes were not open or friendly like those of his sister.

  "Sara is delighted that Father had allowed you to stay."

  "I'm glad she's happy about it. And how about you?" Robin looked at the young man questioningly, his barely hidden gruffness such a reminder of her recent run-in with his father.

  "I'm still unsure of why you've come. You don't look much like a housekeeper." His eyes traveled up and down her slender body.

  She was angry at his undisguised nerve. "Things are not always as they look," she retorted.

  "No doubt you will be hearing a variety of rumors in town about the Ridleys. You may not want to stay."

  "I've already heard them, Jacob."

  "And still you came?" He looked at her suspiciously. "Looking for a rich husband, perhaps?"

  She could feel the flush that she was sure was creeping up her cheeks. What a rude young man!

  He turned and slipped quietly into the house, but not before giving Robin a murderous look. She had not made a friend in Jacob Ridley.

  She gave a sigh and headed for the dining room, where she knew the family would be assembling for dinner. Was she going to be happy here? Not if she were constantly questioned and accused and suspected of ulterior motives. Could she live among these arrogant, proud people? She had sincere doubts. She'd write a letter to Herman after dinner and make plans to find another job, one in which she could use her education and abilities.

  She arrived at the dining room, where the family was waiting. She slipped into her chair beside Sara, and the men took their seats. Gregory, the ten year old, was blond and fair, with a happy smile on his face. He sat beside his father, who was dressed in a cool pressed shirt and khaki slacks.

  "I'm Gregory, I'm ten, Miss North. Can I call you Robin the way Sara does?"

  "Glad to meet you, Gregory. Robin is fine with me."

  The meal began, and Robin raised her eyes to regard the family seated at the long table: Sara and Gregory chatting easily about a new pony just being trained, Mr. Ridley solemnly quiet, sunken deeply in his own thoughts, and Jacob, eyes blazing, staring at his plate as he ate.

  Robin began to mentally compose her letter to Herman as she ate.

  As soon as cook began to clear away the dinner dishes before them. Robin hastily excused herself and retreated to her room. The tension in the house seemed unbearable. A blanket of gloom nestled over the inhabitants. Only Sara and Gregory seemed immune to it. Even Cook, a slim, short little woman with a no-nonsense look peeking out from beneath her wispy graying hair, was grim and untalkative.

  Robin felt discouraged and defeated. She would write to Herman and tell him she was displeased with her position, to see if he could advise her on an alternative.

  Her note was brief and to the point. She signed her name at the bottom and slipped the paper into the waiting envelope.

  There was a tap at the door. She hesitated, not wanting any further confrontations with the Ridley family.

  But Sara's voice came to her ears. It sounded thin, tight.

  "Robin, Robin, are you there? Can I please talk to you for a moment?"

  Robin moved to the door. "Come on in. Sara. What is it?"

  The girl came into the room. Her eyes were red, her shoulders sagging.

  Robin's heart went out to her. "Sara, you're upset. Come, sit here." She motioned to one of the chrome chairs.

  Sara sat, but didn't meet Robin's questioning eyes. She gazed out the window to the prairie beyond. "I had to come to talk to you. It isn't fair not to warn you."

  "What on earth are you talking about?"

  Sara's voice was thick. "Robin, I was so happy that you came. I was so happy when Father said you could stay with us for a while. I thought everything would be all right. But Jacob is so mad at me. And Jacob's right. It's not safe for you to be here."

  Robin thought of the dark youth at the dining-room table. She seriously doubted that he would be concerned about her safety.

  Sara went on. "I've got to tell you a story, a horrible story. You may not want to stay after you've heard it. It's about my mother, Laura Ridley."

  Robin could feel her stomach tense up. She sat quietly as Sara continued.

  "When Jacob and I were eleven. Mother was still alive, and she and Father seemed to argue all the time. This one day they had a huge fight, out by the pool. You could hear them shouting and yelling at each other all o
ver the place. But then they quieted down, and after a while they saddled up their horses and rode out onto the prairie. They often did that. They rode for miles and miles. But at the end of the day. Father came back alone, saying that Mother had wanted to ride a while longer, and that they had decided to divorce."

  Sara's voice cracked, and for a moment Robin thought she wouldn't go on. But the girl steeled herself and squared her chin. Robin felt a rush of admiration for her.

  "Mother didn't return that night. Father didn't seem to care. But by morning, some of the hands found her out on the prairie. She was dead. Her head—her head was crushed with a rock."

  Emotion was etched on Sara's face.

  "They had an inquest in town, and the verdict was that it had been an accident. That she had fallen off her horse, and struck her head on the rock. Her horse stood grazing nearby."

  She looked directly at Robin now, her eyes sharp and bright. "But it was no accident, Robin. My mother had never fallen off a horse in her entire life. She had ridden Spice for years. There was not a jumpy bone in his body. She did not fall off that horse."

  "But the verdict," Robin insisted. "Surely, if there was any doubt—"

  "They didn't dare, Robin. They didn't dare give any other verdict. There was only one person who could have been responsible for Mom's death, and to accuse him would leave half of the town unemployed. My father!"

  She was crying now, and Robin put her arms around her and held her close. What ugly ideas for such a young impressionable girl to grow up with. How it must hurt!

  "I want to believe him, Robin, I really do. But he's been so different since that day. And there was no one else out there. She did not fall off that horse."

  "But if she was upset, if she was angry," began Robin.

  Sara stopped her, her eyes blazing. "Don't you think I've tried to convince myself of that all these years? That the gossip in the town is untrue, that we're ostracized for no reason? But I know the truth. It was no accident. You see, I saw Mother and Father ride off that day.

  "You could always identify Mother on a horse, even at a distance. She grew up in New York City and began to ride as a child in the riding stables there. She rode English style, though everyone out here thought it was strange, complete with jodhpurs and knee-high boots and a tailored coat. You could see her posting as she trotted across the prairie. English riders are funny. Robin. They are very cautious. She never went anywhere on a horse without wearing her black velvet riding helmet. She wore it that day. I saw it. But when they found her body, there was no helmet in sight! It had not merely fallen off—it had totally disappeared. Someone was out on the prairie with her when she died, Robin, and that someone took her helmet with him."