Her nervous fingers removed the aging paper. She knew what she would find, suddenly. The picture was clear in her mind even before her fingers felt the smooth velvet beneath them.
Laura's riding helmet?
With a painful gulp, she withdrew the hat, its sleek blackness showing no signs of its long rest beneath the ground. She felt a chill go up and down her spine.
"My heaven," moaned Duke beside her, his eyes black and empty. "There's no doubt now. It's true. Someone killed my Laura. There was no accident. Murder. Murder!" He closed his eyes and Robin's feelings went out to him. She quickly replaced the helmet into the rest of the newspaper.
"I'm sorry Duke. We thought it was so, but this rather clinches it."
"Who, Robin? Who could have done this thing?"
His face was hardening now. Gone was the little-boy gentleness that she had seen in his moments of pain. Gone was the arrogant flirting of the handsome cowboy that she had first met. Instead she saw an anger growing, festering, a determination mounting.
"I'm going to find out about this, Robin. I'm not going to rest until I know the answers."
"I'll help where I can," she offered quietly.
He closed the box with a snap and stood up abruptly, tucking it under his arm.
"I'll keep this with me for now, Robin. We have to decide who to tell about it."
She had been thinking the same thing herself, but knew that the present moment was not the time for the man before her to make such decisions.
"We'll talk later when we have time."
He nodded and took off for his quarters, leaving a reflective Robin behind. What would this find mean for Alex?
But by the time she got back to the house, she found that Alex and his auction helpers had already left in the pickup truck, without hearing the news.
A few days passed, and everyone anticipated his arrival back home. The building of the storage shed began quickly and efficiently. The foundation was laid and allowed to harden, and then the tall frame of the building was erected, the look and smell of its fresh, hard wood assuring the world that the new shed would stand proud and tall against the Montana elements.
Robin saw Duke often in the distance, working hard as he gruffly gave the orders to the men on the site. To many, he seemed preoccupied with the job, obsessed that each step of the construction be done exactly right. But Robin knew that the orders he gave came from his natural good sense and a life full of ranch experience. His heart was not in it. His mind was constantly turning, thinking, wondering, trying to figure out the puzzle that surrounded Laura Ridley's death.
Late one afternoon, house chores completed, and after tending to some of the seemingly never-ending paperwork that she received in the mail from her attorney who was gradually getting her father's estate in order. Robin flagged the foreman down from the side door of the house as he headed for the barn.
"Hi. Duke," she called as he neared. "Can I ask you something?"
He nodded, wiping his face with a red handkerchief. "Shoot."
"Have you told anyone about the riding helmet? Have you decided what to do? I can't help but think that we should let someone know about it soon, not keep it to ourselves."
"No." The coldness in his voice stopped her short. "Just who would you suggest telling?"
"Alex, of course. He'll be home soon. I'm going to tell him as soon as I see him. He has to be told. I'm sure he would want to know."
"I bet he would," Duke snarled. "I bet he'd be pretty darn anxious to get rid of evidence like that." His voice had an accusing tone.
"It'll be up to him to tell the authorities. I'm sure Alex had nothing to do with Laura's death. And besides, if he had buried the box containing the helmet, don't you think he would have been a little more anxious when the shed blew down? Don't you think he would have handled the rebuilding job himself, for fear that the helmet would be discovered? Wouldn't he have insisted that you select another site, instead of leaving it all in your hands?"
Duke's eyes weakened for a moment. "Then someone, whoever did bury the box, must be sitting on pins and needles about now. Worrying if it had been discovered."
"Don't you think Alex deserves to know? After all, Duke, no matter what the state of their relationship was at her death, she was his wife and he's been through a lot over all of this. He must have cared for her."
Duke gave a tired sigh. "Oh, he must have cared for her, that's for sure, or he wouldn't have put up with as much as he did from her. Yes, he should be told. But, Robin, you do the telling. You know how I feel about this."
They were standing along the side of the house, in clear view of almost anyone. Suddenly Robin got the peculiar feeling that they were being watched. She had heard no sound. It was purely an instinctual hunch, but she had never felt so sure in her life. She glanced quickly at the windows of the house, but saw no one.
Spinning suddenly to look toward the darkened doorway of the big barn, she thought she saw a quick flash of movement. Her imagination? She wasn't sure, but by the time she could have gotten over there, whoever it may have been would have had the opportunity to be long gone.
Why would someone watch her and Duke? Another puzzle to add to the long growing list. She left Duke with the promise to confide in Alex, but without telling him about her suspicions that someone had had an eye on them.
Robin hadn't imagined exactly what Alexander Ridley's reaction to the news about the discovered helmet would be, but she was not prepared for the gray, bleak look that showed the pain in his eyes. His mouth was taut, a bit turned down at the edges, his jaw set tightly. He didn't say a word at first.
Robin stood quietly by in the long hallway of the ranch offices where she had found the handsome ranch owner.
Finally, he began to speak.
"This whole thing is a nightmare, Robin. I must confess I don't know quite what to do. We have evidence of a brutal crime here. And yet, to report it to the police, to reopen the old wounds... I hate to think of the damage it would cause to the children. They've been through so much already."
Robin thought of Sara's gay face as she waited with anticipation for her new friends. She thought of Gregory's open smile, of Jacob's puppy love as he followed Deborah around. Alex was right. The further turmoil that police investigation would bring would have very unsettling results. And yet, a crime had been committed, a murderer was still free.
"We will have to report this, Robin. But first I want to prepare the children, think it through. This is going to be upsetting." He had laid a hand on her slim shoulder and she warmed to the touch.
His eyes gazed over her head, though, far off into the distance, reliving memories and pain and unhappy times. She longed to touch him then, to stroke his blond hair, to hold his broad shoulders. For a moment, he lowered his eyes and gazed deeply into hers and she felt as if her heart would stop.
"A pretty scene. I must say." Deborah's sarcastic voice pierced the mood that surrounded them, destroying the moment that they had shared. "Am I interrupting something?"
As Robin pulled away, her face coloring with growing dismay, Deborah slipped into the space between them and linked her arm through Alex's well-muscled one.
"Just the man I was looking for. I'm having a little trouble with my car, and I wanted your valued opinion before I drive it into town for repairs. Have a minute?" the brunette purred.
"Sure, Deborah," he said with a slight smile. "Robin, we'll discuss this a little later, okay?" She smiled numbly and he met her eyes. "I'll be off then."
* * *
The end of the summer was approaching with each passing day. The police chief has accepted the evidence of the helmet with an unhappy face but not a surprised one. Though it was evidence of what had happened, it gave no more insight to discovering the "who". He had kept the information to himself, and happily, the local gossip did not increase.
The children seemed to be thriving in their respective worlds, the twins with their newfound friends, happy meetings and escapa
des in town, and even occasional visitors in the hot afternoons around the pool. It was good to see them acting as confident, adjusted teenagers, accepted now by their peers.
Gregory sometimes accompanied them to town and spent time visiting Mrs. Manchester and playing with her neighbors' children. He and his father had taken to riding on the range together in the early morning as Alex made his rounds of the ranch.
It was easy for Robin and Alex to silently ignore the implications of the buried helmet. To destroy the still-new and fragile world in which the children thrived seemed wrong. Their thoughts of the past seemed dimmer, and there had been no more suspicious accidents. Would the truth ever be known? And if the killer knew the helmet had been found, would the dangerous "accidents" begin again? Each passing day made the facts more difficult to face. Their comments, usually stolen moments after dinner, constantly interrupted by the children, Deborah, or the other members of the household, were limited to light remarks about the children.
Deborah seemed to be with Alex in most of his waking moments in the house. She met him for breakfast, after his early morning ride, looking fresh and stylish and undeniably attractive. At dinner, she ruled most of the conversation, chatting coyly about her life, her current interests. In the evening, entwining herself charmingly on Alex's arm, she usually managed to steer him off to the den where they stayed together, and the laughing strains of her voice sometimes traveled down the hall and fell upon Robin's ears. She did not purposely listen for those sounds, but they found her nonetheless, and each laugh made her heavy heart ache more.
What could you expect? She would admonish herself sternly at those moments, helping Cook pull the kitchen into gleaming order for the following day. You should have used your common sense, exercised more self-control. You knew from the first there was no place for you here, no future for you with Alex Ridley.
Alex and Deborah. Alex and Deborah. Robin was facing the truth and making herself accept it. But it hurt.
The end of the summer was approaching still faster. The children, after much discussion, a few feelings of apprehension, but final unanimous agreement, had opted to transfer from their private boarding schools in distant California. They would attend the local schools once again, moving once and for all into the mainstream of life in Hamilton.
Robin could see the joy in Alex's eyes as they came to their decision, and the surprise that they felt when they learned how sad and trying it had been for him to have them so far away.
"We thought that you preferred it that way, Dad. We thought that we reminded you of things that you did not want to think about." Sara's voice was level, but Robin could see the emotion in her face.
"That is so untrue, Sara," he answered huskily, his feeling overcoming his usually controlled demeanor. "I wanted to keep you all from the ugliness."
His eyes met Robin's across the room. "I still want to keep you from it," the eyes said silently. Then his usual smile reappeared.
Deborah appeared and the conversation was over, changing quickly to a discussion about the last big weekend before the return of school. In Hamilton, it was traditionally a time for parties and fun.
The twins had conspired to have their first teenage party, a fact about which Alex teasingly groaned in objection. But he finally relented after laying down some guidelines. A large-scale barbecue was planned, to be held around the pool, including not only the twins' friends, but a few of the local residents with whom Alex had made contact. The menu was planned, the date was set.
The whole ranch, aside from necessary care of the stock, would celebrate the last big weekend too. A night in town for the hands was a tradition that would be adhered to, a time of relaxation and celebration after the long hot summer and before the cold of winter. The family's party was set for Saturday evening.
Robin couldn't help but be excited by the children's' enthusiasm and delight, and by Alex's happy eyes. There was a nagging feeling of the problems in the back of her mind, but she pushed the thoughts away for the time being.
Next week, she told herself. Next week the problems could be tackled. Let everyone enjoy themselves now.
Deborah was in her element. The idea of a party at the ranch had put a bright glow in her already gleaming cheeks as she busily organized the house in the next few days. Robin kept in the background, watching her efficiency and abilities, sadly aware of the role that Deborah was quickly assuming, and knowing that her place in the household would be quickly erased as Deborah's position increased.
What would she do when she left here, she wondered? She thought sadly of her father's death, and of the fact that she would be very alone as she started a new life. Would she stay close to Herman and Lisa?
But sometimes even that consolation of family did not suffice. There had been a great void in her life with the loss of her father. The pain had gone deep. And now, she was coping with the imminent loss of another loved one; this time not through death, but a loss just as well. She would soon leave this place, she knew, and her moments with Alex would be mere memory.
Life goes on, she told herself. She would build a niche for herself somehow, someplace. She had comfortable means now, thanks to the surprise inheritance from her father. She had inherited his strength, too. She would do all right.
She straightened her shoulders with determination. Her heart would have another empty place, she knew, but she would go on. And for her remaining days at the Ridley Ranch, she would enjoy this world that she had grown to love. She would celebrate the children's happiness and do her best to leave them cheerfully. And she would gather up those memories for the long days ahead.
Chapter 19
The day of the party dawned hot and clear. The ranch was a bustle of excitement. Out on the range, the hands ran through their necessary chores with gusto. The horses were cared for, fed, and brushed. The stalls were cleaned, the daily crises of fence repairing and water distribution handled.
In the office, the books were balanced, the supply orders made. Despite the holiday attitude that had spread over the place in anticipation of the coming festivities, the Ridley Ranch functioned in top order. Robin watched the process through the day thoughtfully, with more than a little admiration.
With the party plans being handled primarily by Deborah, who had both Sara and Jacob in tow, Robin spent her time assisting cook in the kitchen, putting up dozens of tasty dishes to be served for the buffet-style meal that was planned. She assisted the housemaids in their daily routines, to allow them the extra time to help Deborah set up the pool area.
After lunch, Gregory accompanied Robin into town to pick up a few necessary last-minute items from the stores, enjoying the hot dry sun warming their heads as they skimmed along the road in the open jeep.
"It's going to be so much fun," said Gregory. "We haven't had a party like this since I was such a little boy. I used to have to go to bed early, you know. But now that I'm big Dad says I can stay up quite a while!"
Robin gave him an affectionate pat. "I hope you have a great time," she said with a smile.
An eerie feeling crept over her suddenly as she spoke, making her spine tingle, her skin crawl. "Like someone walking over your grave," her father would have said. She shuddered at the thought and turned her mind to other things.
Town, too, showed signs of excitement. Instead of the usually quiet deserted main street in the middle of the hot afternoon, the duo found several of Hamilton's inhabitants busily shopping in town, calling gaily to each other from across the wide, dusty street.
Several teenagers emerged from the luncheonette as they walked past.
"Hi, Robin," they called happily. "We'll see you tonight! Jacob and Sara have invited us to the party "
She ran into the wives of several ranch hands in the drugstore, chattering excitedly about the party that they were attending at one of the homes in town. It seemed that everyone had made plans for the big weekend.
After making their rounds and filling the jeep with the variety of parce
ls they collected, they stopped by Mrs. Manchester's house. She was accompanying them back to the ranch in the jeep, to join the family for the weekend. Her jolly face greeted them at the door.
"So glad to see you!" she chattered. She brought them into the shady home and offered tall glasses of delicious iced tea.
Gulping his down quickly, Gregory ran next door to say hello to his friends.
"The town is in high spirits," she said happily. "So many folks coming to the ranch, or attending another party. It's as if the past had been, well, left behind. It makes me very happy."
Robin nodded in agreement. If only, she thought, it could always stay like this.
"It's not forgotten, though," Mrs. Manchester said thoughtfully as though reading Robin's thoughts. "I had a call the other day, you know."
Robin looked at her solemnly, waiting for her words.
"It was a man. At least I thought it was a man's voice. I don't say that I recognized the voice. It sounded husky, a bit unnatural. But he was concerned about Laura."
"What did he say? Why did he call?"
"He said that he thought there was proof that Laura was murdered. He was asking me if I knew anything about it. He couldn't identify himself, and so I told him that I was quite in the dark about the whole thing. To tell the truth, it worried me a little, he didn't sound quite right."
Thoughts were flying through Robin's mind. Who would call Mrs. Manchester? Who would suspect the proof that they had found?
Was it the killer? Scared perhaps that the evidence had cropped out to indict him? Or her? Mrs. Manchester had said the voice hadn't sounded "quite right." Was the killer mentally unsettled, wondering what had happened to the incriminating evidence, the buried helmet that was proof that foul play had occurred?
Who else would have questioned Mrs. Manchester? Who else knew about the evidence? Only Duke, the police chief and Alex himself, and she could think of no motive for any of them to hesitate in identifying himself to his loyal and trusted retired housekeeper. Once again Robin felt the uncomfortable tingle of apprehension that she had felt in the jeep...
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