“So if you’d have your uncle do that for me, Vaden…I’d appreciate it greatly,” Ransom Lake finished. “We’d best be off, Denver…before ya decide to drag that girl off to matrimony before ya have a chance to court her.”
With a deep, amused chuckle escaping his lungs, Denver released Yvonne, who only turned and stood staring at him in awed silence.
“You’ll be careful?” Vaden called to Ransom Lake as he turned to leave. “You’ll be back?”
“If the weather gets bad…we’ll just find an old house to shelter in,” he answered, winking at her as he left the store.
“Miss Vaden,” Denver said, tipping his hat to Vaden. “Mrs. Lake…er…I mean, Miss Valmont,” he chuckled, tipping his hat to Yvonne, who gasped in astonishment.
Vaden felt a sense of panic and tragedy rising within her. She dashed out the door after her heart’s desire.
“You’ll come back, Ransom, won’t you?” she called to him.
His head turned slowly toward her, and as his intense gray eyes looked at her, she saw him mouth, Ransom?
Realizing with horror that she had indeed called him by his first name for the very first time, Vaden began to correct herself.
“I’m sorry. I meant to say Mr.—”
But Ransom Lake was back up the stairs and on the porch before her, having taken her shoulders between his powerful hands before she could finish her apology.
“Ransom,” he whispered as his eyes wove their bewitching spell about her. Vaden’s body began to tremble from both the cold air in which she stood and from his touch. When he released her, violently removing his right glove an instant before his hand was at her throat, she thought she might not be able to stop herself from throwing her trembling body into his arms. “Ransom,” he repeated again in a whisper as his now bare and very warm hand caressed her throat, his fingers dipping beneath the collar of her blouse. “Ransom,” he whispered a moment before his hand slipped around to the back of her neck, pulling her toward him as his mouth was suddenly hot, moist, and demanding on her own. Vaden’s body melted against his as his deepening, hunger-driven kiss commanded her to meet it. Though it was brief compared with the kisses they’d shared on previous occasions, it was powerful. It left Vaden breathless, weakened, and astonished. Almost as quickly as he had been upon her, he had climbed into the wagon next to Denver and slapped the lines at the backs of the team of horses.
“What did you say?” Yvonne asked, amazed at the display.
“I…I don’t know. I only called him by his given name instead of—”Vaden began.
“Remind me to try that on Mr. Denver Lake when they return.”
Vaden looked to Yvonne, unable to believe what she had heard her sister say.
“He’s dashingly good-looking, isn’t he, Vay? I noticed the first time he came into the mercantile he was far and away more of a man than anyone I’ve ever met,” Yvonne confessed with a sigh.
Vaden still could only stare at her sister, stunned at what she was hearing pass from her lips.
“I wanted to kiss him, Vay. To reach out, take hold of his coat lapels, one in each hand, and kiss him soundly right on the mouth!” She looked to Vaden, her eyes sparkling, her smile resplendent. “I’ve lost my senses in that man, Vaden! Completely lost my senses!” Then, with a heavy sigh and continued radiance bursting from her countenance, Yvonne turned and went back into the mercantile.
Vaden watched the wagon carry Ransom away from her until it was far in the distance. Something told her he would be back. She knew this was a trip of healing for both men and that such a trip would be watched over by heaven.
“You let him paw at you like an animal.”
Vaden startled at the voice and looked to see Jerome appear from the alley. “Jerome,” she greeted him as a feeling of impending doom began to creep into her bones, “I tried to explain to you the other day that—”
Jerome mounted the stairs to stand before her. The hatred, the seething hatred, was frighteningly apparent in his eyes as he stood glaring down at her. “I don’t want anyone else touchin’ what’s mine, Vaden,” he growled.
Instantly, Vaden’s hand stung from the hard slap she delivered to his face. “I don’t want you,” she spat at him. She was unnerved when he only smiled at her.
“Yes, ya do. He’s left ya now. He won’t be back. I can assure ya of that. You belong to me, Vaden, and I’ll wait. I’ll wait until ya finally come to your senses.”
“I don’t think you should come to the mercantile anymore, Jerome. You’re not welcome here,” Vaden warned him. Her voice was unstable, and she was truly frightened in that moment.
Jerome looked up at the overhang of the porch and then looked casually back to Vaden. Suddenly his arms embraced her brutally, and his repulsive mouth was attacking hers ferociously. Vaden pushed at him, but he was too strong. Her struggling seemed in vain for a moment as his hands worked to restrain her until with all her strength she kicked him soundly in the shin. It was enough to cause him to release her.
“Don’t you ever touch me again, Jerome Clayton. My uncle will hear of this, and believe me, you are no longer welcome in his home from this day forward!” Tears of frustration and disgust flooded Vaden’s cheeks as she turned and fled into the mercantile.
“I’ll wait, Vaden. I’m a patient man,” Jerome called after her before descending the porch steps casually and walking away down the street while whistling a bright tune.
“What’s the matter, Ransom?” Denver asked, having noticed the sudden frown owning his brother’s brow.
Ransom paused. The feeling in his chest, the vision in his mind, had only been a flash, and now it was gone. Should they go back? he wondered. But the premonition had vanished, and so must his concern, he decided.
“Nothin’. Just…just…nothin’,” he answered, though his frown lessened only slightly.
“He is not allowed to be let into this house or my business!” Dan shouted that night after Vaden told him of Jerome’s behavior. “If he tries to set foot in the store…call the sheriff, Yvonne. Do ya understand that, Myra?”
Myra nodded and squeezed Vaden’s hand reassuringly.
“It’s one thing to spend some time sparkin’ with a gentleman like Ransom Lake and another to have an idiot like Jerome Clayton forcin’ things on ya, sweet pea.”
Vaden’s mouth dropped open at her uncle’s reference to sparking with Ransom Lake. However does he know? she wondered.
“This worries me, Myra. This worries me somethin’ awful. He seemed like such a nice boy all these years. How could he take us all in like that?”
Myra shook her head. “I don’t know. I just can’t believe we didn’t see this before. You avoid him like the plague, Vaden. Like the plague!”
“You…you don’t think he’d do her harm, do you, Uncle Dan?” Yvonne asked.
“I’m not gonna lie to ya, girls. The thought has crossed my mind.”
Vaden lay in bed that night praying for Ransom Lake’s return. He would protect her from Jerome’s vile intentions. She knew he would. He did not love her perhaps, but he valued her friendship, and she knew he would keep Jerome from her somehow. Her anxiety was great, her fears founded, and so to soothe her nerves and enable her body to rest, she repeated his name over and over and over, “Ransom. Ransom. Ransom,” until finally she was comforted and able to sleep.
Her dreams were vivid, emotionally charged, and intimate. She dreamt of Ransom—her love. She dreamt of his smile, his mumbling manner of speech. She dreamt of his standing before the fire in the abandoned house, shirtless and thoughtful. She dreamt the memory of his arms around her, his kiss heated on her mouth, the scent of shaving soap lingering on his face. And she awoke missing him. Desperately missing him!
“I’ve spoken with the Claytons,” Dan announced at lunch the following day. “They deny their son could behave like he done. Of course. But ain’t it just a real big coincidence he’s gone up north to visit some relatives?” Da
n shook his head and chuckled oddly. “Little weasel. We oughta just lump him in with them other boys pullin’ that Halloween nonsense. He ain’t no better…maybe worse.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was in the late hours of the night on the third day since Ransom and Denver had left that Vaden awoke with a feeling of panic and her body awash with perspiration. It seemed in the days since he’d gone the sense of impending doom had increased by the hour in Vaden’s soul. And now, something woke her. It was a feeling—a sensation of great bodily pain and suffering, of mental anguish. He should’ve been back by now, something told her. Ransom and Denver should’ve returned to town by that evening. She leapt from her bed, jumping to her feet as she seemed to hear him calling her name. The sound of his beloved voice echoed through her mind. She pushed against her ears with her hands, but it did not stop. Then, as if someone were whispering to her, she knew. She knew he was hurt, dying perhaps, and she must go to him.
Quickly and quietly, though tears streaked her face and panic wracked her trembling body, Vaden dressed.
“Yvonne,” she spoke quietly, waking her sister. Yvonne rubbed at her eyes and frowned at Vaden, dazed with sleep. “Wake Uncle Dan, Yvonne. Something is wrong! I’m going out to look for Ransom.”
“What?” Yvonne said, suddenly sitting up in bed.
“Something has happened to him, Vonnie. Go wake up Uncle Dan and tell him to drive out to Ransom’s place and check it. Something is terribly wrong!” Yvonne leapt from her bed as Vaden left the room.
The snow that had fallen earlier in the evening lay quiet, its frosted icing sparkling in the moonlight. Even for her woolen mittens, scarf, hat, and coat, Vaden was cold. The temperature was frigid in the middle of the night, and the lantern burned warm near her face as she made her way down the snow-covered road of town.
It seemed an eternity before the familiar grove of elms loomed up before her. Vaden’s feet were cold, but it mattered not to her. The closer she got to the grove of elms, the very grove that had held such terror for her weeks before, the more desperate she became to reach it.
The moonlight was blocked for a time as she entered the grove. In a moment it appeared again, and the sight it illuminated almost took the life’s breath from Vaden’s body. There before her was a large elm. Strapped tightly to its trunk, the ropes used to bind him causing his flesh to bleed, was Ransom Lake.
“Ransom!” she screamed as she ran to him. His head hung forward, his eyes closed. She feared he was dead. “Ransom!” she screamed again as tears clouded her vision. His chest rose and fell with feeble breath. She wiped at her tears as she tugged on the ropes to loosen them. “Oh, Ransom!” she cried as she lifted his head and saw the damage done his handsome face. His right eye was completely swollen shut. The color about it was so purple it was nearly black. His mouth bled from both corners, and a large wound brutally split his bottom lip. Dried blood was caked beneath his nose. At his forehead, his hair was matted with blood from a scalp wound.
He wore only his boots and trousers. Vaden had no way of telling how long he had been exposed to the elements. Even with the meager illumination of the lantern and moon as her only light, she could see terrible bruising at his ribs. His bruised arms were bound against the tree at his sides, and his knuckles were so raw and bloodied it looked as though some animal had chewed them. The ropes binding him to the tree were tightly cinched, causing further bleeding to other parts of his body.
Vaden dropped to her knees. She prayed whoever had done this to the man she loved above all else had not found Denver’s knife in his boot. She prayed quietly with relief when she felt the bulge in the calf of his boot. It was not easy to retrieve, however, and she cried out in anguished frustration several times before she was able pull it from its hiding place. Frantically, she sawed at the ropes with the knife, sobbing with frustration and fear. When she’d cut the last length of rope, Ransom’s beaten, tortured body fell forward into the snow.
“Ransom? Ransom!” Vaden sobbed. It seemed his blood was everywhere. He did not move as she knelt in the snow beside him. She turned him on his back into her lap. “Ransom!” she cried as she hurriedly removed her mittens and placed a warm hand on his cheek. Quickly, she unbuttoned her own coat and covered him as she rocked back and forth, bitterly sobbing. How would she get him to safety? He was far too large and heavy for her to carry. Dragging him would no doubt kill him if he weren’t already fatally wounded. She had to get him out of the snow first of all. Looking around as she sobbed, she noticed a patch beneath a nearby large elm free from snow. It took every ounce of her strength to drag his limp body, which had always been so strong, to the nearby elm, propping him against it. She retrieved her lantern, intent on using its flame to build a fire to warm him. She paused as she noticed a ways out from the grove stood a lone elm. It had died years before and would burn hot and bright. Taking her lantern, she ran through the snow to the old tree and endeavored to set it afire. The recent snow made it difficult to catch the flame to the tree. However, the wood was dried and brittle, and in awhile it did indeed take flame upon itself. Vaden rushed back to where Ransom sat beneath the elm. Carefully, she pulled him away from the tree and laid him in the warmth of her lap as the fire quickly engulfed the dead elm.
“Hang on, my love. Use your great strength and hang on,” she whispered soothingly to the unconscious man. She again placed a soft, warm hand to his cold cheek, quietly humming a tune she didn’t even recognize through her panic. The old elm burned fiercely, cracking and spitting like hell’s own fire. It seemed an eternity before Vaden finally heard shouting and the approach of a wagon.
Relief flooded her body as she saw her Uncle Dan pull his team into the clearing. “Uncle Dan! Help me! Help me!” she cried. The man looked from the great blazing fire to his niece.
“Vaden!” he shouted as he ran to her. “Vaden! What’s goin’ on? I…” He paused, looking at the maimed and broken man lying in her lap. “Oh!” he groaned. “What happened, Vaden? Who’s done this to them?”
“Them?” Vaden asked.
“Denver’s back at the house. He came draggin’ himself up the porch callin’ for help just as I was leavin’. He passed out when we got him in. He’s in a bad way…but nothin’ the likes of this.”
“He’ll die if we don’t hurry, Uncle Dan! Please! Help me!” Vaden cried.
As Dan hollered at the team, driving them on at a wild speed, Vaden cradled Ransom’s head against her bosom, letting her tears fall on his bruised face. She knew who had done this to him. Somehow Jerome had been able to overpower her mighty champion and do him immeasurable harm. There was no other reason she should find him where she did. She sobbed, her body wracked with pain from the knowledge that his condition was on her head. She’d brought this on him.
Vaden was grateful Dan had possessed the foresight to toss several blankets into the bed of the wagon before he left home. She pulled them tightly around Ransom’s shoulders and stroked his hair as she looked down into his face, so bruised and swollen. In that moment, the memory came to her of the time so many weeks and months before when he’d lain in her uncle’s guest room, unconscious because of her. She thought of the thrill that had rushed through her body when she’d kissed him and hoped for a moment he would awaken. Carefully, as her tears fell excessively onto his battered cheeks, she kissed him lightly on his wounded mouth. As she looked at his face longingly, she heard a groan rise within his throat. In the next moment, the gray of his undamaged eye seemed to outshine the moonlight as it opened and looked at her.
“Vaden,” he mumbled as her sobbing wracked her body, “I-I’m not up to sparkin’ ya just now, girl.”
“Don’t waste your breath teasing me,” she whispered, relieved he was still able to speak at all. “We’re almost home. We’re almost home.”
“They…they took Denver too,” he choked anxiously. “I-I…” She could tell by the frown furrowing his brow he was worried for Denver.
“He’s fine. He’s a
lready at our house. He’s fine, Ransom.” She tried to keep her voice calm and soothing, though she felt she might die of worry for his life.
“Denver,” he mumbled, and he was unconscious again.
Myra fairly flew off the porch as the wagon pulled up to the house. “Vaden!” she cried out. “My goodness, child! Ya gave us such a fright and…” Her affectionate scolding ceased immediately upon glancing from Vaden’s tear-stained face to the man who lay so maimed in her lap. “Ransom!” she exclaimed in a whisper. “Oh, Dan!” Myra looked to her husband as he jumped from the buckboard. “Oh! He looks far worse than his brother.”
“Hurry! Let’s get him inside. He’s beat to a pulp, and its hard tellin’ how long he’s been out in this cold.”
Carefully and as tenderly as was possible, Vaden helped her aunt and uncle carry the massive form of Ransom Lake into the warmth of the house.
“Just lay him right before the fire in the parlor,” Dan ordered.
Tears fell profusely from Vaden’s eyes as a deep and pain-stricken moan vibrated within Ransom as they laid him on the rug before the warm blaze.
“Oh, gracious providence!” Myra whispered as the light from the fire further illuminated Ransom’s injuries. “I’ve already sent Yvonne for Doctor Sullivan because Denver was in such a bad way. But I can’t believe…quickly, Dan. Hot water, cloths, towels!” Myra snapped her fingers at her husband and pointed to the kitchen.
“Jerome Clayton has done this, Auntie,” Vaden whispered.
Myra paused for a moment, frowning at her niece. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Vaden. Jerome may be an idiot, but surely he isn’t capable of causin’ damage to another man the like of this!” Myra ran her fingers over the terrible bruising on Ransom’s ribcage. “These bruises are brutal. There must be broken ribs here. But,” Myra pressed on the man’s chest, stomach, and abdomen, “there’s no swellin’ elsewhere, so hopefully he’s not bleedin’ inside.” Myra next inspected his hands and arms. “He gave a good accountin’ of himself from the looks of these ragged knuckles. Same with Denver.” She tried to lift the blackened and swollen eyelid. Vaden gasped and held her breath for a moment when she saw the brilliant gray of his eye against the completely blood-red white. “Poor man. Poor, poor man,” Myra mumbled.
The Visions of Ransom Lake Page 26
