"We've got the cattle secured," he hollered to the men, slipping from the back of his horse and handing the reins to a nearby hand. Within seconds, the mount was within the stable walls, out of harm's way. Alex pushed his hat to the back of his head and looked up into the sky.
"Boy, it's going to be a big one," he hollered to no one in particular. "We're just about as ready as we can be, and it's a good thing. That sky is about ready to rip!"
He turned to follow the last of the hands into the barn, giving a final thoughtful look at the greenish-gray sky.
Robin's throat was tight with emotion. How much like his young son he looked! So respectful and appreciative of the natural world around him, so ready to rise to the challenge of protecting his own. His face was alive and alert, and Robin couldn't move her eyes from him until he disappeared into the barn.
"Work in a high-powered office," Deborah had suggested. "Watch your money grow."
Robin shook her head. Alex was a part of this land. He belonged to and with this land. It was his livelihood, it was his soul. Her heart felt warm somehow at the realization. A noise behind her made her turn around.
"Gonna be a big one," said Cook as she rearranged the stack of pots and pans that she had disrupted. "Glad to see they're ready out there!"
"How about the house?" said Robin suddenly, realizing that with all the scurrying around the barns, no one had paid much attention to the house.
Cook laughed.
"Well," she said, "when Alex built this house, he made it to stand up to conditions like this. It's as strong as a castle. We've battened down the pool area, and the rest takes care of itself."
Robin looked around. "But all these windows."
"Shatterproof!" Cook said with a look of pride. "Mr. Alex does things right. So we can sit tight and watch the action out here to our hearts' content. These storms are a part of life to most folks out here. The kids love them because they sometimes delay the start of school, if they come in early September. The local folk look on them as a kind of challenge, and accept them as a sign of the overpowering strength of nature."
"I know," said Robin dreamily, looking once again out the kitchen window.
Cook gave a knowing smile before returning to her pots. "Somehow I just thought you would."
The two made a quick check throughout the house. Except for Alex and Gregory, who Robin had already seen go safely into the barn, the rest of the current inhabitants of Ridley Ranch were present and accounted for. The twins sat with Herman and Lisa in the living room, listening to the stereo and watching expectantly for the storm, which was soon to come. Deborah had retired to her room, not being one to appreciate the feeling of excitement that seemed to permeate the place. The girls who helped with the household duties were chattering wildly in the laundry room, chores now forgotten, as they made bets with each other about the size of the coming hailstones.
"Like golf balls," exclaimed Linda, "as big as the ones that came two summers ago."
"Never!" exclaimed her friend with dismay. "Just think of the damage they would do to my boyfriend's new truck!"
"Maybe bigger," taunted the other girl. "I heard the men saying it might be the worst they've ever seen."
Robin left them to settle their argument by themselves.
She returned by herself to the kitchen, and positioned herself at the window, noticing suddenly how the wind was beginning to blow in small swirling motions, picking up handfuls of dust and transforming them into whirlpools a few feet from the ground.
Tufts of grass whipped by occasionally, and the sky continued to darken with an angry, stormy look. The greenness around the clouds was even more apparent now. She watched with amazement as the land outside came to life in the wind.
The sky broke. The scene before her was a surprise, despite the descriptions that she had heard. The wind picked up speed suddenly, sending a howling roar across the prairie. The sky brightened for a split second, before beginning its treacherous show toward earth. The air suddenly was filled completely with the sight of round white balls plummeting toward the ground, hitting with force and bouncing from their landing spots until they came to rest some distance away. They were about golf-ball size, she noticed unconsciously.
The sound of clatter on the roof of the ranch house was nerve shattering. The distant barns were totally shut off from view by the snowball-like downpour.
The hailstones were coming larger now, not bouncing nearly as far, as the ground became covered with the evidence of the storm. Bigger than golf balls, tennis balls, almost baseballs. Robin stared wide eyed. It was incredible. The sound on the roof got louder and louder, as the stones fell with greater velocity. She said a silent prayer of thanks for the shatterproof windows and solid construction of the house.
She looked out into the whiteness, straining to see signs of the barns, the bunkhouses, but they were hidden from sight. Like a wild snowstorm in January's Chicago where the tiny snowflakes fell incessantly and whitened the world around them. But this was August! And far removed from the storms with soft, quiet flakes that slicked the city streets and caused the children to cheer as schools temporarily closed, this storm was loud, brutal, ferocious. She shuddered at the thought of an unprotected person left to withstand the beating that nature, in the form of a hailstorm such as this, would bring. She hugged herself instinctively.
Then suddenly it was over. The air seemed brightened for a moment as the stones slowed down and the barns came back into view. The wind had disappeared, leaving a calmness over the area. The silence, after the seemingly endless clatter of hailstones, was deafening.
She looked out across the prairie and to the fields of whiteness that lay everywhere. A solid, thick layer of the fallen stones covered all the ground in sight. Like winter, despite the month of the year. She ran to the door, her curiosity getting the better of her. The air, when she threw the door open, while cooler than the morning's, was still and summerlike, The sun was once again beginning to shine, putting forth a brightness that was almost blinding after the two days of grayness that they had been experiencing.
She bent down to pick up a couple of the stones on the ground before her. They were cold and white, firmly packed snowballs, not made by mischievous little childrens' hands, but by the natural storm process of those high greenish clouds. They were melting almost as quickly as they had arrived, she noticed, feeling the cool water run in trickles down her wrist. It wouldn't be long until the white cover that hovered over the ground would be gone again.
Robin was overcome by a sense of awe, by a deep appreciation for the complexity of nature.
The storm was over. The sky was once again sunny and soon the ranch would be running normally again, just as it had before the signs of the coming storm.
Yes, the whiteness would disappear, but what damage had been done to the area? How had Ridley Ranch stood up to the challenge of nature? Robin remembered the bright look in Alex's eye before the storm. As she looked across to the barn, she saw the door open and the owner of the ranch stepped out, followed by Gregory and a handful of ranch hands. They started off, shoulders squared, to find the answer to that question.
The ranch house itself was quickly surveyed, with no signs of damage to its sturdily built structure. Within minutes, the signs of solid whiteness in the outside world began to fade. The hailstones that covered the open ground shrank quickly to mere soft, wet masses, leaving behind a land no longer looking parched and dry as the moisture penetrated the summer soil.
Soon life went on as usual inside the big house, as they waited for word from the range about the condition of the rest of the ranch.
Gregory brought the first news, riding excitedly back to the ranch building on top of his palomino, letting her loose in the corral, and running pell-mell for the house.
"Robin! Sara!" he cried, bouncing in the kitchen door to bring his news. "Did you ever see such a storm?"
Robin and Sara, heads bent together over a game of Scrabble while waiting fo
r the bread to finish baking in the nearby oven, turned to him anxiously.
"Is everyone all right? The stock?" Sara's questions came plummeting out.
"None of the hands got hurt," he stated proudly, reminding Robin of his father. "And as far as the stock goes, Dad is mighty pleased at the number that were safely led to shelter before the storm hit. Of course, we're bound to find as time goes on that some head are missing, because no matter how hard we look, it's hard to locate them all on a spread as big as this one. But Dad says we could have lost a lot, if the guys hadn't been on the ball."
He pushed his hat back on his head, the motion bringing a lump to Robin's throat. Even at his age, he was so much like his father. What would he be like when he reached manhood? When he grew up? She resisted the urge to reach out and touch his shoulder with affection. After all, she reprimanded herself, she would probably never find out. By the time he had grown to such a degree, she would be long gone from the Ridley Ranch.
"How about the buildings?" Sara went on with her questioning.
"The barns and stable are fine. There was a bit of damage to the big bunkhouse roof, but the guys are already putting that right. The only real mess is the big shed behind the main barn, where Dad stored some of the heavy equipment. The roof has pretty well collapsed, and one wall had been pulled loose, ripping up the main beams. The whole thing is going to be pulled down, because Dad says it's not safe. They're going to knock the rest of the whole building down. You ought to come out and watch. It sure beats playing Scrabble!"
The two girls laughed at his manlike enthusiasm.
"Sure," Sara piped up, "we'll come out and see the big crash with you."
Robin pulled the deliciously browned bread from the oven, and the trio headed off to the site of the damage.
Chapter 18
The site of the damaged shed was bustling with activity as Robin, Sara, and a bouncing Gregory approached. At least a dozen ranch hands strode busily around the area. Already the main equipment had been removed from within the unsafe walls and stood a safe distance away, where several knowledgeable men went over the machinery to ascertain if there had been any damage.
"This one's okay, boss," growled a low voice, as one of the hands finished with a large, well-used tractor.
"And a good thing that is," answered one of the younger hands. "I can just see us shoveling our way to town by hand without that big baby to attach to the plows to when the snows come."
The men within earshot laughed.
All in all, the air was one of gaiety, which surprised Robin at first. Although the machinery all checked out as the moments went on, it was evident that Gregory's report about the shed's condition had been an accurate one.
One entire side of the roof had collapsed. And there were other signs of damage.
But despite the loss of the shed, the relief of all the men on the ranch was evident. They had gotten away quite luckily after a storm of such force. Most had seen cases where entire crops were ruined, herds cruelly lost, homes and barns destroyed.
Robin looked around her in thoughtful silence. Only a short time had passed since the storm had surrounded them, and already, except for the damaged shed, almost every sign of it had disappeared. The ground was damp. Slight puddles had accumulated in occasional spots, already soaking into the parched ground. The sky was clear once more, the temperature hot and summerlike. Man seemed once more in charge of his environment. But nature was the real king out here on the open range, Robin knew, under the command of no man. She felt a deep respect for the world around her.
"Here she goes," yelled a hand as the walls of the now empty shed gave a final protesting creak and then gave way to the heavy machinery that plowed into its sides. There was a splintering, rasping sound, then a fine crack as the wood fell to the ground.
Immediately another plow pushed the remains into a large pile behind the spot where the shed had stood. There, men with saws broke the planks into transportable size and heaved them onto a waiting flatbed truck. They worked smoothly and easily at the difficult job, joking casually as they went, the whole maneuver running like clockwork. And in the middle of them all, working just as hard, sweating just as profusely, and joking just as loud, was Alex Ridley. No wonder the men worked so smoothly, were so cooperative, with a boss who could give as much as he asked from his employees. Robin's heart gave a proud little lurch in spite of herself.
The job was over soon, and the men sauntered off for a well-earned rest.
Gregory disappeared to find some more excitement in his day, now that the shed had been demolished.
Mac was walking off with a few of the other young hands, giving Sara a burning look and making some cruel comment to his companions, which, although not heard, was obvious enough to make Sara extremely uncomfortable.
Alex and Duke came by then, Alex giving Duke the go-ahead to make the necessary plans to rebuild the shed without delay.
"I'll go over the ground, boss, and decide where to sink the main posts. The old ones collapsing loosened the ground a bit too much, I think. We might be better off building on a new spot. Here maybe." His foot kicked the hard ground beneath them.
"You decide. Duke. Order the beams and whatever materials we haven't got on hand. Shall we keep a dirt floor, like the old one had, or lay a cement foundation? It wouldn't hurt to improve the place."
"Okay, boss. I'll check it out."
"I'm leaving," Alex told him, "Heading for a cattle auction in Wyoming for a couple of days. Bringing just two of the guys. I'll check in if you need anything for the ranch, Duke".
The man nodded and walked away.
"Sara, is that a long face I see? What's bothering you?" Alex turned his attention to his daughter.
She gathered a small smile for him. "Nothing, Dad. Just thoughtful, I guess. And I hate to hear you're going away. Even for a few days."
"Just business, Sara. You know how that is."
She nodded.
"I have a clear hour or so before leaving, honey," he said. How about jumping on the mean mount of yours and taking a ride with me? There's no place like the open range for thoughtfulness."
"I'll agree with that, you two deserve it," interjected Robin lightly, so pleased to see how sensitively Alex was reacting with his daughter. Perhaps these things did have a way of working out.
Sara was beaming now. "I'd love it, Dad. I'd really love it."
"And we won't be stuck out on the range, Robin," teased Alex. "We'll be sure to be in by dark!"
Robin took the jest in stride, watching the two as they strode off together, Sara's dark head bobbing next to his handsome blond one.
Robin felt a strong glow of family warmth envelop her.
Watch out, her mind cautioned. You are not a part of the family and never will be. Her head was listening to the advice, but her heart would not. And she too, had great reservations about Alex being absent from the ranch.
She stood watching them as they strode toward the barn together.
"A perfect picture of a western daydreamer, Robin." Duke's voice cut into her thoughts and brought her back to the present.
"I'm sorry. I guess I was a little involved in my own little world there for a moment."
"No apologies," he drawled, his face smiling. "We all need our dreams."
"That was quite a storm. The first I've seen."
"And you still like our land out here? Then you belong here. Some people do. Some don't. Take Laura." His voice got softer.
"She didn't belong here..." His words drifted off, and Robin felt a flash of pain for the man who spoke, so toughened on the outside, and so wounded in his heart. Wounds of the heart were hard to heal, she knew.
She changed the subject to brighten his mood. "I hear you'll be rebuilding the shed."
The two walked over to the site.
"I was thinking of moving the whole thing to a new location, but if the boss doesn't mind swallowing the cost of pouring a foundation, then we can use the original spot. The
ground is a bit dug up. A dirt floor wouldn't have been firm enough to support the tractors at this point. But it's okay with cement."
They paced around the area, the ground roughened by the removal of the beams and the subsequent plowing of the debris.
"What the devil is this?" Duke was bending over a section of rough ground that had been in the corner of the shed. By the time Robin covered the few paces it took to be by his side, he was already down on his knees, his hands scratching industriously at an object partly uncovered in the dirt.
"There's something buried here, Robin. It's a box of some kind."
Soon the two of them were digging furiously at the edges of the unknown buried treasure, Robin wielding a leftover stick to loosen the earth, and Duke clearing it away.
When they lifted it free, they stood staring at the dirt-covered box they had uncovered. It was made of rough wood, about twelve inches square.
Robin felt oddly excited for no reason at all. A quick look to Duke showed that he, too, felt excited about their find. But what was it?
Duke opened the lid slowly. Its hinges showed signs of rust from years in its grave. At first glance, the box looked full of crumpled newspaper and Robin thought momentarily that they had stumbled on something as uninteresting as a load of buried garbage.
But then her eye caught a headline on a scrap of newspaper: BRUTAL ACCIDENT MEANS DEATH FOR RIDLEY WOMAN She grabbed the scrap and spread it rapidly to read the date. A lump formed in her throat. The newspaper was dated five years before, the article written the day following Laura's death.
No one spoke a word, but Robin could feel the painful memories welling up in Duke beside her, his eyes now rimmed with unshed tears. The muscles in his neck were tight, and she could see them flexing above the collar of his shirt. He sat very still.
Robin's skin felt prickly and tingling, and she had to will her fingertips to work. This box must have more significance than trash disposal, and the time had come for her to find out what the crumpled newspapers concealed.
Season of Fear Page 13