Season of Fear (17 page)

What did Robin know about Laura, anyway? She had heard bits and pieces from everyone over the course of the weeks, and she had put them together in her own head to make a composite of a woman she had never even known.

She had been beautiful... dark... like Deborah? But because Laura happened to sound like a description of Deborah, Robin could not jump to conclusions and assume that her personality also matched, She had come from the east. Loved money. Loved excitement... she had been unhappy on the ranch.

For Robin, who had fallen in love with the peace and beauty of these open spaces, it was difficult to imagine. And yet, for someone who was attracted to those exotic far-off places—the places Deborah spoke so romantically about—the ranch would probably seem a confining and secluded spot.

Deborah and Laura had been friends. For how long? Robin wondered. What type of friendship had they had? Was there jealousy, resentment? Laura resenting Deborah's freedom and travel and excitement ? Deborah resenting Laura's handsome husband and secure financial position? Because it was obvious that Deborah found Alex attractive.

The thought churned around in Robin's stomach. Did he return the feeling? Would they marry someday? Would Alex remain at the ranch that he loved so well, Deborah giving up her world-wide tours, or would he, as Deborah had once suggested in conversation, sell the ranch and move to a city where he would work in an office and accumulate more "financial success?"

Either alternative made Robin mentally object. The idea of Alex and Deborah together was something that would never sound right.

Robin turned her mind back to Laura. If she had been involved with someone associated with the ranch, as Mrs. Manchester was suggesting, would it be difficult to discover who the person was? One of the ranch hands? Duke? Mac? Both handsome and virile in their own way, though Mac would have been a few years younger at the time of Laura's death. Still, stranger things had been known to happen. And in the house? The only man at the time had been Herman, and Robin's mind revolted at the idea of her cousin being involved with his dear friend's wife. Yet Herman seemed enthralled with Deborah, her stories and her attractive, flirting eyes. Lisa sat quietly by, never reacting, never seeming to notice the way her husband seemed to glow under the glamorous woman's attention.

But did Lisa mind? Had Herman reacted the same way to Laura? And had Lisa finally quietly, violently, objected? The thought was repulsive to Robin, unreal. She had never seen Lisa on a horse. For all she knew, the woman hadn't ridden in all of her life. She definitely did not seem the type to smash someone's head with a rock.

The table was being cleared away, and Robin quietly got up to help. She was glad the meal was over, glad to get away from both the group and her own thoughts. She was making her mind face any hypothesis about what had happened when Laura died, but the process was a painful and ugly one.

She retired to the clatter of the kitchen and assisted Cook as she scurried around cleaning up for the night.

Robin's dreams that night were unsettling ones. She tossed and turned relentlessly, drifting off to an uneasy sleep only to be awakened by an unhappy dream. The thoughts of the past few days raced through her tired mind, over and over again. She imagined, she hypothesized, she tried to make sense out of the facts that she knew about the happenings on the ranch, she dreamed about the different people involved, awakening constantly with a clammy, uncomfortable feeling all over.

She relived her accident in the jeep. She remembered the moment long ago when she had been so frightened by Sara and Devil on the prairie. Visions of Deborah, her face determined and angry as it had been when she had warned Robin of her intentions with Alex, danced before her, taunted her.

She even dreamed of Alex, his face relaxed in one of those rare moments of communication that had come to mean so much for her. But that dream, though happy in nature, only brought her pain and anxiety in the dark of the night. Because it was followed by the vision of him walking evenly across the yard, Deborah on his arm, the sound of her gay laugh drifting across to the kitchen window. The feelings that Robin had for Alex were going to have to be kept in check. It was pretty obvious that Robin did not belong in that picture, and the thought of that through the numbness of fatigue and attempted sleep was a painful one. But the next few days were routine.

She awoke extremely early one morning the next week, long before the alarm on the table next to her bed had had a chance to ring. She glanced at it through the first rays of daylight. Five. Her muscles and body felt tight and even more tired than they had been the evening before. Her spirits were low, a condition that she was not prone to, even in times of stress.

Glancing out the large window, she found the view did not help her mood.

The sun was not at all visible in the eastern sky. The entire panorama was gray in color, as if a huge cloud had totally descended on all of Montana. The air was hot and dry, and amazingly still. The lack of sunlight made the prairie beyond the house look colorless and barren. Cloudy days were a fairly rare thing for this time of year, and Robin was dismayed to see that nature had picked this particular day to change the scenery. Her mood being what it was already, she would have loved to be cheered a little by the promise of sun.

She sighed in a resigned way and slipped from under the covers, rubbing eyes that were still scratchy from lack of sleep. She padded across the carpeted floor in her bare feet to her bathroom and, within a few short minutes, was enjoying the cascade of the shower.

When she was dressed and more awake, her mood seemed to brighten a bit, even if the day outside did not.

Would there be a storm? The stillness outside did not seem to point to that fact, but the cloudiness was certainly suspicious. The calm before the storm, perhaps?

Chapter 16

The day progressed much as usual, despite the grayness of the sky. Robin finished her tasks shortly after lunch, heaving a sigh of tired relief and looking forward to a quiet, restful afternoon to make up for her scanty sleep. The group dispersed for their various activities, Alex back to the ranch office to work, Herman, Lisa, Deborah, and Jacob to the study for a round of cards. Robin watched Jacob's puppylike stares as he gazed at Deborah, enamored by her beauty and sophistication. It was a shame, she thought, for the seventeen-year-old to have developed such a crush, but probably far from unusual.

Sara was meeting her new friends from town in the coffee shop after lunch, and her tanned face beamed with excitement at the thought of it.

"They are such nice kids, Robin," she chattered in the kitchen before she took off in the jeep. "They are so full of fun, and so natural, and, well, they even seem like they like me!"

Robin laughed and gave Sara a hug.

"They'd be fools not to, Sara Ridley. You are a very marvelous young person, and I have a feeling that there are going to be more and more people who begin to see that if you give them half a chance. Run along now and have a fantastic time. Just be back for dinner. We certainly don't need a repeat of the scene when I was missing."

Sara gave her a knowing smile. "Thank heaven it worked out okay. By the way, could you do me a favor sometime this afternoon? Devil seemed to have a sore hoof when I brought him in from our run this morning."

Since she had had her cast removed. Sara and Devil had been a familiar sight coming and going from the stable. She had been taking it easy, compared to her usual bouts of hard riding, but the two had already spent hours on the range, making up for the lost time, so to speak. Riding a horse, for Sara, was as natural as breathing to most other folks.

"I checked his hoof and leg and couldn't see any problem at all, so I thought I'd let him settle down for a few hours after I rubbed him down. I think he was just suffering a minor cramp or something, but I was wondering if you would take a look at him and make sure he looks like he's back in good shape."

Sara ran a hand through her shiny hair, freshly brushed and gleaming. She was wearing a neatly fitting pair of rose-colored jeans and vest.

"I'm not exactly dressed for the stable..."

Robin gave an understanding smile, wondering suddenly, which of Sara's newfound friends had especially caught her eye. A friendly, natural young boyfriend was just what she needed!

"Sure. Sara, I'll be glad to check Devil over. If I see any trace of a limp remaining, I'll call the vet and have him stop by on his rounds tomorrow to see what he can do. Now you hit the road before your friends wonder what has happened to you."

She was gone, whistling as she left by the front door, and Robin heard the sound of the jeep engine as it started up in the drive.

Still longing for the nap she had promised herself, she decided to go out immediately to the stable to check on the proud black horse. If what Sara had said was true, the horse was probably back in tiptop shape, and in a very short while, Robin would be able to collapse on her comfortable bed and close her tired eyes.

The corral was empty and quiet as she approached the stable. The air was still heavy, and there was not a sound of human life in sight.

She entered the stable quietly, almost as if she did not dare to break the silence that hung in the air. Devil whinnied at her approach.

She went directly to the tackroom to collect a bridle to slip on the spunky horse to lead him to the corral. But when she reached the door of the tackroom, she gasped in surprise at what she saw.

There was a man diligently at work in the far corner of the room, concentrating on the task at hand with such effort that he had not heard her approach. She stared at the broad back, clad in the flannel shirt and jeans that were like a uniform to the men who worked on the ranch. His dark curly hair strayed from the back of his wide-brimmed hat and crept over his collar. At first she thought it was Mac, remembering the scene she had overheard between him and Sara in the same room. But as he turned his head slightly to the side, she recognized Duke. His eyes looked thoughtful and far away. She saw no trace in that split second of the haughty and assured swagger that he usually sported.

Her throat was tight and her heart was hammering as she looked at the scene before her, but it was not the presence of Duke himself that had created such havoc within her. It was the task that so closely held his attention, the job before him that held so much importance to him that he was oblivious temporarily to the environment around him.

In one hand he held a well-used cleaning rag. Sitting by his feet was an array of leather-cleaning supplies: saddle soap, oil, polish. And on a block of wood before him was a saddle, once well used, but equally well cared for. Laura Ridley's English riding saddle. He rubbed the leather vigorously, keeping it supple and giving it the special glow that comes from constant care and attention. Laura's saddle.

She stood silently glued to the spot watching his efforts. Why was he giving such tender, loving care to her saddle? Could he possibly have been the man who had been a part of Laura's life? Robin's mind was racing. She had been so sure that the identity of the man that had been involved with Laura would lead to the answers to the questions that surrounded her death. Was she now standing less than thirty feet from a vicious killer? Snatches of memory grabbed at her. Her racing pulse as she had ridden across the prairie in the dark, trying to escape her pursuer, the sound of the crashing timber as the stable post had fallen, trapping Sara and killing Ladyfingers, the swerving jeep that had been maliciously tampered with...

Run, her mind screamed, get away from the man who is sitting before you, get away while you can! Escape before he notices your presence and takes matters into his own hands.... It was too quiet here, too lonely, too dangerous. Her mind snapped and jerked her body to action.

She turned quickly in the doorway to go, but it was too late. Even without hearing a sound, Duke had suddenly sensed her presence. He turned as she was moving out the door, and she caught sight of his face.

"Robin," he said quietly, and looked deeply into her eyes. If he had jumped up, if he had shouted, if he had given her the malicious stare that she had seen in the past, she would have bounded out the door and into the comparative safety of the open before a blink of the eye. But he did none of those things. He sat where he was, turning his broad shoulders quietly, rag still in hand, and looked at her with unhappy eyes. She stopped where she was and turned back to face him.