The Visions of Ransom Lake Read online

  “I-I…” she stammered as he came to stand before her, his stormy eyes glaring at her from beneath long, dark lashes. “I-I…found this in the trash barrel after you had gone.” Slowly she held out her hand to him, opening it to reveal the pocketknife sitting on her trembling palm.

  Ransom Lake looked down at the knife, his eyes returning to Vaden’s and narrowing as he reached out and snatched it quickly from her hand. Vaden looked to the ground where her foot began to kick at a pebble. “I-I would also like to apologize for…for my fall and for injuring you. I truly am sorry.”

  The man made no audible sound to indicate he was accepting her apology, so she looked up to see him still glaring at her. “I said I am sorry, Mr. Lake.”

  Still he said nothing, only stood staring at her.

  Vaden felt the hot blush of humiliation rising to her cheeks. How dare he stare at her so, making not the slightest gesture of offering any forgiveness? “Mr. Lake,” Vaden began sternly, “I have apologized to you. A gentleman does not stand silent at such an offering. Even a nod would be more acceptable than your simply standing there glaring at me.”

  “I’m no gentleman, Miss Valmont,” he mumbled. The deep, somehow sultry intonation of his voice as he spoke her name gave Vaden cause to pause as goose bumps enveloped her arms and legs. Vaden struggled to quickly regain her composure.

  “Yes, you are,” she stated. He frowned, obviously surprised at her arguing. “You can hide away in the mountains and grow all the hair you want to try to hide yourself from the world, Mr. Lake, but it doesn’t fool me. You were not raised to be a heathen.”

  Then she gasped, horrified, as the man reached forward, taking her chin brutally in one hand. He bent toward her, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her face as he growled, “You don’t know anything about how I was raised, girl. I am a heathen. A man cursed with afflictions and burdens that a child like you could never even imagine. If you’re some overbearin’ missionary-type with wild aspirations of savin’ my soul…don’t waste your time.”

  Reaching up, Vaden grasped the man’s nose tightly between her thumb and index finger. “Let go of my face!” she demanded. Stunned at her own actions, she was determined not to let him know how horribly she was intimidated. The tumultuous gray eyes glaring at her widened in astonishment, but he did not release her. Pinching his nose tighter, Vaden repeated her demand. “Let go of my face, Mr. Lake.”

  “Let go of my nose, girl,” he barked, but his grasp on her chin did not tighten. The fact he did not try to cause her further discomfort whispered to Vaden her instincts were right about this man. Her soul sensing this, she felt there was no further reason to provoke him, and she released him. An instant later, he dropped his hand from her chin.

  Vaden cleared her throat, straightened her spine and, smoothing her skirts as she met Ransom Lake’s steel glare, she repeated, “Again, I apologize for my clumsiness this afternoon in the store, Mr. Lake.”

  “Forgiven,” he growled.

  Vaden nodded, turned, and began walking away.

  “Thank you,” he called out, causing her to stop and turn toward him once more, “for the knife. It’s important to me.”

  Suddenly, Vaden felt guilty for treating him so harshly. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I could return it to you.” Then she watched as Ransom Lake tucked the knife into his new boot before she turned away from him once more.

  “That was a quick walk,” Myra greeted as Vaden entered the mercantile only minutes after she had originally left. “But your cheeks are rosy once again, so it must have done the trick.”

  “Quite rosy,” Yvonne commented somewhat suspiciously as she studied her sister for a moment with the curiosity of a cat.

  “Yes. I suppose so. The…um…the breeze was very invigorating.” Vaden tucked one fist firmly beneath her chin as she leaned on her elbows over the counter and smiled up at her sister and aunt. “Thank you for having us here, Auntie.”

  “Oh, sweet pea,” Myra cooed affectionately, “thank you for coming.”

  “I’m home, girls! I’m home!” Vaden, Yvonne, and Myra turned to see Dan enter the store. “I’m home, and I’m ready for the social.” he announced. Vaden giggled as her dear, bowlegged uncle began to perform something akin to a jig on the wood-planked floor beneath his feet. “I’ve been practicin’ my dancin’ all the day long, girls! Ain’t I the purty boy?”

  “For pity’s sake, Danny! Settle yourself down. What if customers should come in?” Myra laughed.

  “Then I’ll show ’em how it’s done!” Dan hollered as he swept Vaden into his arms and began dancing about the room with her. “It reaches my big ol’ ugly ears that you’ve already captured one young man’s heart in town, sweet pea!”

  Vaden felt her heart leap in her chest. “I have? You mean he—”

  “You bet ya! That slick feller Jerome Clayton has already got every young man for miles ready to beat down your door! I expect they’ll be havin’ to go through him first though.” Dan stomped his feet even harder as he danced.

  “Oh,” Vaden muttered. And then she beat herself mentally for even allowing Ransom Lake’s name to jump into her mind when her uncle had said what he did.

  “Oh? Every female under the age of thirty and unmarried has been tryin’ to catch that boy for near two years now, and all you can say is, ‘Oh?’” Dan looked to Myra and shrugged his shoulders.

  “Leave it to Vay not to realize a blessing when she sees it,” Yvonne sighed, smiling at her sister.

  “It’s all right, darlin’. I understand. Not every man in the world can be as good-lookin’ as me!” Vaden smiled again then, and her uncle added, “Besides, ya gotta make sure a man’s got the right nostrils for bean storage.”

  With that, Vaden was further amused and joined her uncle wholeheartedly in the happy romp around the room.

  

  Yvonne looked the very image of perfection! As Vaden awkwardly climbed down from the wagon, she turned and watched Yvonne alight gracefully. Her sister’s dark hair was perfectly piled, darling little ringlets cascading everywhere about her face, neck, and shoulders. Yvonne walked into the town hall with an air of grace and dignity only the finest women could master. Her dress of peacock blue was dazzling, and Vaden lagged behind her some distance, for she felt dowdy and plain in her sister’s presence. She wished she had preceded her sister into the town hall so when Yvonne did enter, the crowd within gasping in awe, she could straighten her shoulders, showing her pride in her sister’s beauty.

  Vaden’s own dress was scarlet and extremely becoming. It complemented her perfectly curved figure and caused her eyes to look all the more as if tiny, sun-glint diamonds had been sprinkled about in them. Vaden was completely unaware of the fact she outshone her sister’s grace and beauty. Vaden’s delight with life blessed her with modesty. It shone plainly in her already beautiful countenance, enhancing the loveliness of the young woman beyond description.

  “I hate that I look better in scarlet than blue,” Vaden mumbled to her aunt as they entered the hall. “See, Auntie. Everyone’s staring at me wondering how a beautiful, tropical bird like Yvonne could have such a clumsy, ridiculous-looking sister. See how they stare?”

  Myra took Vaden’s lovely lace-gloved hand, patting the back of it tenderly and sighing. “Oh, sweet pea. Humility becomes the most beautiful of women all the more.”

  Almost immediately, Yvonne and Vaden found themselves nearly pounced upon by eight or ten bachelors of rather varied ages. Yvonne, immediately flattered, captivated them with her charms. Vaden almost deplored their attentions, knowing full well the group of young ladies standing nearby would only resent the Valmont girls attracting such attentions from the men.

  As the group of admirers surrounding Yvonne began to introduce themselves to her, the group of young bucks around Vaden did the same.

  “Toby Bridges, Miss Valmont,” one almost attractive, dark-haired young man said, extending his hand to Vaden.

  “Vaden Valmont. I�
��m so glad to meet you,” Vaden replied, smiling politely.

  “Nathaniel Wimber, Miss Vaden,” another dark-haired young man offered.

  “Mr. Wimber,” Vaden acknowledged. She glanced at the group of young women to her right. Yes, they were irritated to say the least. One young, browned-haired girl in particular seemed to be glaring at her.

  “And ya haven’t forgotten me, have ya, Miss Vaden?”

  Vaden looked up to see the flirtatious grin of Jerome Clayton affixed on her. Immediately, Vaden was unnerved. Somehow this particular young man unsettled her. But being polite was of the utmost importance at social gatherings, and Vaden knew it.

  Therefore, she forced a friendly smile and politely offered, “Of course not, Mr. Clayton. How delightful to see you.” Then, glancing at the on looking young ladies again, she added, “Would you excuse me please? I’d like to meet some of these ladies over here.” Mustering every ounce of courage she could find within herself, Vaden walked away from the doting young men and toward the circle of gossiping young ladies. “Hello,” she greeted. At first, she was met by only startled expressions. “I’m Vaden Valmont.”

  “Belva Tibbits,” the brown-haired young woman still glaring at her responded. Quickly the girl smiled artificially and offered a gloved hand. Vaden inwardly hoped her feigned friendly smile to Jerome Clayton had looked more believable than did this girl’s. Vaden took the offered hand to find it was as limp as a dead fish. This girl would be no friend. Vaden knew it at once.

  “I’m Selma Wimber,” a cute brunette said with a friendly smile. Her handshake was welcoming and firm. Vaden was hopeful.

  “Raylin Wimber,” another girl said. The other girls seemed kind as well. Only Belva Tibbits radiated negative emotion. Soon, Vaden found herself accepted by nearly all in the group and was involved in their conversation. They discussed their dresses, all the girls endlessly flattering one another. They discussed their hair and what challenges they had each endured in finding just the right pin-points in styling. And, much to Vaden’s expectation, it wasn’t long before the youthful, feminine conversation turned to another foreseen topic.

  “Jerome Clayton walked me home from the mercantile this afternoon!” Selma exclaimed in a hushed and obviously excited voice.

  “Oh, Selma! Really?” another young woman with auburn hair exclaimed softly.

  “That’s nothin’!” Belva sneered. “I heard Ransom Lake is winterin’ in town this year.”

  “Ransom Lake never winters in town, Belva, and you know it.” Raylin was obviously not inclined to believe Belva’s announcement.

  “I tell ya he is! I heard Mr. Clayton talking to Mr. Dennis this morning. He’s movin’ to town for the winter. I saw him ridin’ toward his farm today.” Belva beamed with an irritating air of superiority.

  “I bet you’re just breathin’ heaven, aren’t ya, Belva?” Selma turned to Vaden and explained, “Belva has had, uh…an interest in a peculiar hermit who has lived in the mountains for years. Personally, I’m scared to death of him.”

  “Oh, I think he’s just not comfortable with people,” Vaden blurted. She regretted voicing her opinion that very second, for every pair of female eyes around her arched in surprise.

  “Is that so?” Belva’s eyes narrowed daringly. “And how is it that you can come to town yesterday and presume to know more about one of our citizens than we do?”

  “I-I…Mr. Lake came into the mercantile today. He seems nice enough…just wary of people. At least that’s what it seemed to me.” Vaden swallowed hard. Belva already had a way of intimidating her, and she didn’t like the feeling.

  “You mean…you’ve spoken with him?” Raylin asked, obviously astonished.

  “Well…yes. I mean, he came into the mercantile today for some boots and­—”

  “I hardly think you can accurately judge the man’s personality by a single conversation with him, Vaden.” Belva was obviously irritated. Vaden decided the particular moment to confront this girl was not at the first town social she attended.

  “You’re right, I’m sure,” Vaden surrendered, smiling apologetically. But deep within her heart, she knew her discernment where Ransom Lake was concerned was accurate.

  “Would ya do me the honor of the first dance, Miss Vaden?”

  Vaden looked up to see Jerome Clayton’s charming smile affixed to her yet again.

  “Uh…certainly, Mr. Clayton,” she accepted politely, placing her hand in the hand he offered to her. She smiled at the group of girls as she left, wondering how many more enemies she had made by being the first girl of the evening to dance with the handsome Jerome Clayton. She would much rather have stayed in the company of the girls. Although her mind hesitated uncertainly when he asked her to dance, Vaden was too polite, too sensitive to the feelings of others, and too kindhearted to refuse him.

  “Belva’s a pill,” was the first thing Jerome said to her as they began to dance. “Ya don’t want to rub her the wrong way. But both the Wimber girls are nice. And Julianna Havens and Laurie Cox are sweet too. I see you’re makin’ friends fast enough.”

  “Trying,” Vaden admitted.

  “And apparently you’ve even softened the likes of Ransom Lake.”

  Vaden looked up at Jerome astonished. “What do you mean?”

  “I saw you talkin’ to him this afternoon. Actually, ya looked pretty put off. But I imagine he can be an exasperatin’ man to deal with.”

  “He bought a new pair of boots. You remember he came in when you were just leaving. Anyway, he accidentally threw a valuable-looking pocketknife away in our trash barrel. I was returning it to him.” Vaden wondered why she felt so guilty. Why did she feel she had to explain her speaking with Ransom Lake to Jerome Clayton?

  “That was thoughtful of ya.” Jerome smiled again. His smile was charming. Surely Vaden’s discomfort toward the man was caused simply by the fact he was handsome and attentive toward her.

  “Well, it was the least I could do, especially after the incident when I…” Jerome raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue. “Well, your mother certainly seems like a wonderful woman. My Aunt Myra speaks very highly of her.”

  “She is a wonderful woman. And I’m sure you’ll find I’m an all right boy…even if ya have already picked me out as a flirt.” Jerome chuckled and winked at her.

  Vaden returned his friendly smile, though out of politeness rather than sincerity, and admitted, “Well, it just unnerves me terribly to have people stare at me. I’m sure you can understand that.”

  “I ask your forgiveness then, Miss Vaden, for starin’ at ya. It’s just that you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” Jerome continued to smile.

  Vaden raised an unconvinced eyebrow. Unlike Yvonne, Vaden did not esteem overbearing flattery as a rule, especially when it was handed out on the occasion of only the second meeting between people. She distrusted a man who would say such things so soon. “You really sprinkle the sugar on thick, Mr. Clayton.”

  “I think most women like the sugar thick,” he whispered.

  “Most do.” Then giggling, she smiled sincerely at the young man. She had to admit most women did prefer such flattery. Vaden resigned herself to the fact perhaps Jerome Clayton wasn’t so different from other young men after all. Perhaps it was just the fact he was new to her, interested in her. Perhaps these were the things making her hesitant and suspicious of him. Still, lingering in the back of her mind was the vision of the odd, bearded hermit from the mountains.

  Invariably, all through the evening, Vaden found herself glancing at the entrance to the town hall. Her instincts knew Ransom Lake would not arrive. Still, she hoped he would, if for no other reason than she held a secret wish to simply hear the intriguing tone of his voice once more. But he did not arrive, and Vaden spent the evening dancing with every young man in town, Jerome Clayton most often. He was quite attentive and charming, and Vaden did finally allow herself to inwardly admit he made the evening a pleasant experience for her. The other
young women there, with the exception of Belva Tibbits, were also very friendly. Vaden enjoyed talking with them and was all the more glad she and Yvonne had been allowed to stay with their Aunt Myra and Uncle Dan for a time.

  

  “Isn’t it grand to be the belles of the ball, Vaden?” Yvonne sighed contentedly as they lay in their beds late that night. “I simply want to wallow in the prideful knowledge that every young man there was purely mesmerized by our presence.”

  “Vonnie!” Vaden could not abide her sister’s vanity at times. Yet at the same time, she felt on Yvonne’s part it was warranted.

  “Oh, I know, Vaden. You’d have rather been off mucking around in a creek or climbing trees to look in filthy birds’ nests.” Yvonne turned on her side facing Vaden and propped her elbow on her pillow. “I know the streak of romantic desire is thicker than pudding in you too, Vaden. How can you not be profoundly flattered at all the attention we received tonight?”

  “Because…because my idea of romance is different than yours, Vonnie.” Vaden sat up in her bed and smiled at her sister. Then she looked out the window at the bright, beckoning glimmer of the stars. “You like to have attention—to be flattered and fought over. And I suppose all women do, even me. But I want so much more. I want someone to love me, just me. To be so in love with me that I can’t even imagine the enormity, the depth of it. And I want to love one man with all my heart, with everything that I am. I want a man I can laugh with…a man who will hold me in his arms when I need to cry, someone who needsme as much as I need him. Just me. I want a man whose kiss is so passionate and so perfect that I feel as if I might die from the ecstasy of it! I want to marry him and have his children grow inside me…watch them mature into adults who reflect his strength and uniqueness.” Vaden looked back to Yvonne staring at her, entirely absorbed in what her sister had whispered in the quiet of the night. “I know it’s what you want too, Yvonne,” Vaden added. “The difference is…I guess the difference is…I can’t enjoy the attentions of other young men because my heart is always searching for…for him.”