“I can’t breathe!” she choked out. She thought, He’s killed me.
She could not draw air into her body. His hand about her throat was suffocating her. She felt her arms and legs begin to tingle with an odd numbing sensation, and the strength left her hands as she felt her arms drop to her sides. She winced at the pain of not being able to breathe. As she felt her dying body slip to the snow-covered ground, a heavenly vision of Ransom Lake appeared for one last brief moment in her fading consciousness.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
All was dark. There was no light and no sound. Then suddenly she felt the warmth of life-giving air fill her bosom. Vaden began to feel cold, to sense something tickling her face, to again feel the breath of life being forced into her lungs. Gasping painfully, Vaden drew her own breath and opened her eyes for a brief moment to see Ransom’s perfect face near to her own, frowning with an expression of grief and deep concern.
“Take in the air, Vaden,” his voice echoed in her mind. Then she saw Ransom turn and look over his shoulder—saw Jerome struggling to his feet just behind him, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, his face twisted with fury. As he lunged toward them, Ransom sprang to his feet and shouted, “You’re a dead man for this!”
There was an excruciating pain in Vaden’s throat, and she closed her eyes again, unable to focus properly. She could hear the two men scuffling. She heard one of them fall to the ground, groaning in anguish. Then she knew her body was being lifted, and parts of her were warm again. She could hear the crunching of snow beneath feet bearing a heavy burden. She could hear the panting of a human being whose body was being pushed too hard considering it was still healing from its own trauma. Opening her eyes only a narrow slit, she saw Ransom’s chin and jaw from where her head rested on his shoulder. Still, she was too weakened and disoriented to respond to him.
“Oh, please!” a familiar voice echoed through her mind. “Let me make it back! Drop me dead after if ya will…but please wait until I’ve made it back.”
She wanted to ease the pain and worry she heard in Ransom’s voice. She wanted to tell him she was all right, to shout out that he must not push himself to harm for her benefit. But Vaden could not speak the words. She could not even open her mouth without the searing, burning pain increasing in her throat. She seemed to have no control over the rest of herlimp and nearly lifeless body. She heard Ransom’s pleadings with heaven as he carried her toward home. She felt the frost still falling, tickling her nose and lips. She felt her hands, arms, legs, feet, every part of her begin to grow colder and colder. She felt Ransom stumble and fall to his knees once, only to mumble something under his breath, force himself to his feet once more, and move on. She heard his heavy boots as he climbed the stairs to the porch, and she heard his voice shouting as his feet carried him into her uncle’s house.
“Vaden’s hurt!” he shouted. “Hurry! Help me! She’s hurt!”
Vaden was able to open her eyes slightly then. But her throat felt dry and bitterly sore, and she still couldn’t muster the strength to speak. She realized indeed the strength of Ransom’s arms, for he’d carried her home from the elm grove.
“What in tarnation?” It was her Aunt Myra. Vaden peered through clouded vision to see the woman entering from the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron, only to find such a dreadful sight before her. “Ransom! What…take her to the bedroom,” Myra cried.
Vaden felt herself gently placed on the familiar softness of the quilt covering her bed. All the time she watched Ransom through narrowed eyes, unable to focus completely. Ransom dropped to his knees beside the bed and shouted instruction to Myra over his shoulder.
“Go for the doctor, Myra! Now! Where is everyone? Go, Myra! She wasn’t breathin’ when I got to her and…go!”
“Ransom! What happened?” Myra cried hysterically, tears streaming down her face.
“Now, Myra!” he shouted back.
“What’s goin’ on?” Dan entered the room then, having heard the commotion, his attention going directly to Vaden. She tried to speak, to reassure them all of her well-being. However, she was still unable to utter a word, and she closed her eyes again for a moment, feeling completely exhausted.
“Myra!” Ransom shouted.
“Go for the doctor, Myra,” Dan instructed calmly. Vaden watched her aunt flee from the room, sobbing hysterically, as her Uncle Dan reached to the foot of her bed and pulled a warming quilt over her trembling body. “What happened, Ransom?”
“I found her in the elms. It was Jerome. I left him there bleedin’ in the snow, but I don’t think I got the job done. I didn’t have time. I…she wasn’t breathin’ when I got there.”
Panic dominated the intonation of Ransom’s voice, and Vaden herself couldn’t follow what he was trying to say. His features were stricken with anxiety and distress, and he panted hard from the taxing effort of carrying Vaden home from the elm grove.
“Why don’t ya lay down for a minute, son?” Dan told Ransom. “Just come on over here and—”
“Don’t touch me, Dan,” Ransom growled, pushing Dan’s hand from his shoulder.
“Ransom, you’re not well yourself. Ya need to—”
“Leave me be. I’ll sit right here until I’m sure she’s—”
“Okay. Okay, son. I’m goin’ for the sheriff. This has gone far enough—too far—and it’s time the law did somethin’ about it.” Vaden watched her uncle hurry from the room, pausing to look back over his shoulder at her for a moment before leaving.
“Vaden,” Ransom whispered.
She inhaled the comforting scent of his hair and felt the warmth of his whisker-covered cheek against the chilled flesh of her shoulder as he laid his face against her neck. The bitter cold, the horrid lingering sensation of Jerome’s touch began to disappear. She wanted to speak, to tell him how his touch healed her, but again her strength and voice failed her. Her arms felt as if they were weighted down with lead, and she could not move. Ransom laid an arm across her body just above her stomach, his hand coming to rest on the opposite shoulder, and she felt him place a tender but very fervent kiss on the hollow of her throat, another on the bareness of her shoulder. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, a deep frown furrowed his brow as he caressed her throat and neck softly with his fingers. His fingers traveled carefully across her shoulder, and with an anguished moan escaping his throat, she felt his kiss caress her shoulder once more.
“Look at this,” he muttered. “Look at the marks he’s left here.”
She coughed quietly, the only sound she could force from her throat, and he looked to her.
“Vaden?” he whispered. His eyes were filled with concern and the hint of restrained tears. “Vaden. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left ya. But you were so insistent. Still…I’m sorry for this. I shouldn’t have—”
“Stop. Please,” she managed to whisper, though her throat ached with pain. “This wasn’t your—”
“I went to the elms, and there ya were. He had ya up against that tree, and I saw ya fall to the ground, and when I finally beat him enough that I could get to ya…I realized ya weren’t breathin’!” He buried his face against her shoulder again, and she felt his kisses on her skin, at her shoulder and her upper arm, his fingers burying themselves in her hair. “My daddy used to blow into the mouths of calves that were born without breath, ya see…and I hoped the same thing would work on you. But I wasn’t sure and…” He raised his head to look at her again, taking her face between his strong, trembling hands. “I thought you were dead! I should never have left ya!” Then, brushing a tear from her cheek, a tear that had managed to escape her exhausted eyes, Ransom Lake’s stormy, guilt-ridden gaze searched her face for a moment. “What did he do to ya, Vaden?” he asked then. His voice was angry and deep.
“Just…just…he cut my shirtwaist and…his hands…his mouth was on my shoulders…my skin. I…I…” It was still difficult to speak, and she couldn’t tell him exactly anyway. It was too humili
ating. She only wanted to forget it.
“Ssshhh,” he breathed quietly. “Don’t think on it again.”
He brushed the hair from her forehead and forced a smile, but she could plainly see the guilt consuming him. He wore the same expression of guilt, of feeling responsible, as he had the night he related the story of his family’s slaughter to her.
“Don’t look like that. Please, don’t look like that,” she whispered. She wanted to comfort him, help him understand he was in no way at fault for what had happened to her, but a great exhaustion overtook her, and she could no longer keep her eyes open.
It was shouting that woke her next. Vaden opened her eyes in time to see Ransom take hold of Doctor Sullivan’s coat lapels and slam him violently against the wall.
“Watch what ya say!” Ransom growled into the man’s face. “I’m not the one who did this!”
“Ransom. Calm yourself, son,” Dan spoke calmly, placing a hand on Ransom’s shoulder. “I’m sure Doctor Sullivan didn’t mean to imply—”
“Of course not! Of course not, Ransom,” Doctor Sullivan assured the infuriated man. “I merely asked who had done this to the girl. I only looked to you for an answer because you were the one to bring her home.” Doctor Sullivan was obviously very rattled at having been so violently confronted.
“It was Jerome Clayton,” Dan said bluntly.
Sheriff Howard approached the bed, but Vaden still watched as Ransom hesitantly released the doctor.
“Miss Valmont,” the sheriff began, “I know you’re not feeling well…that you’ve been hurt. But I have to ask ya…was it really Jerome Clayton that did this to ya?”
“Yes,” Vaden answered in a whisper.
“You see. One of your properly bred and raised local boys did this,” Ransom nearly shouted.
“Calm yourself, Ransom Lake,” Sheriff Howard warned, “or you’ll find yourself in jail all the same.” Then, putting a calming hand to Ransom’s shoulder, he asked, “Do ya know where Jerome is now?”
“I hope he’s burnin’ in hell!” came his hateful answer. Ransom drew a deep breath, though his eyes were still the color of hurricane clouds. “I left him out at the old elm grove…and I left him out there to die.”
“This ain’t the first time he’s tried to hurt my niece, Sheriff,” Dan stated.
“What do ya mean by that?” Ransom shouted angrily, turning to Dan.
“He tried to force his attentions on her a while back, and we told him he wasn’t welcome—” Dan began.
Ransom violently clutched Dan’s shirt collar in one fist and demanded, “Why didn’t ya tell me this before?”
Dan took Ransom by the shoulders calmly and answered, “I was afraid of what you’d do, Ransom. I never thought he’d do somethin’ like this. I’d a shot him first myself if I’d known he would.”
Ransom released his grip on Dan’s shirt and closed his eyes for a moment. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself, and mumbled, “I’m sorry, Dan.”
Dan touched his shoulder and reassured, “I understand, son.”
“Vay!” Yvonne cried as she entered the room, pushing her way through the others to her sister. “Oh! Vay!” she cried. Quickly she dropped to her knees on the floor beside Vaden’s bed and took one of her cold hands, stroking it affectionately. “Denver and I were out looking for you. I was so worried! I…oh, Vaden. What happened?”
Denver entered the room in time to restrain Ransom from assaulting the doctor once more when he said, “It’s so hard to take in! That Clayton boy has always been such a fine young man.”
With fists clenched and knuckles still bearing the remnants of healing scabs from his own beating, Ransom aggressed toward the man. “That Clayton boy isn’t anything but a filthy—” Ransom shouted.
Denver took hold of his brother’s shoulders, staying him. “Let it go, Ransom. Let him tend to the girl.”
“I can’t examine her with the entire township in the room,” Doctor Sullivan grumbled. “Sheriff, clear everyone but her aunt out of here please.”
“I’m not takin’ a step out of this room while that idiot is anywhere near her!” Ransom shouted.
Vaden tried to speak, to calm him and reassure him that all would be well. He seemed completely out of his mind.
“Come on, boy,” Dan said calmly. “We’ll all wait together in the parlor.”
Ransom began to argue the fact again, but when Denver nodded, confirming it to be the wisest choice, Ransom glanced worriedly to Vaden one last time before turning and storming out of the room.
“That man is a positive heathen,” Vaden heard Doctor Sullivan mumble under his breath as he began to inspect her bruises.
“No,” Vaden forced from her hurting throat. “I swear Jerome Clayton did this to me. He tried to kill Ransom and Denver. I—”
“Don’t talk, sweet pea. Don’t talk,” Myra whispered in a soothing voice, forcing a smile onto her tear-streaked face and putting a cool glass of water to Vaden’s lips.
Vaden sipped the refreshing, healing liquid for a moment before closing her eyes once more. Then she drifted once again into unconsciousness.
It was not until bright rays of sunlight drifted in through her window that Vaden woke. It was Yvonne’s concerned expression she saw first as her eyes opened.
“Oh, Vay! I’ve been beside myself!” her sister exclaimed.
Vaden smiled and swallowed, noticing the incredible difference in the feel of her throat. “That must’ve been hard to endure, Yvonne, considering there is only one of you.”
“Don’t tease, Vay. I’m serious. We’ve all been so worried these past two days.”
“Two days?” Vaden exclaimed, suddenly very alarmed. “Two days?”
“Yes. You’ve been sleeping for two days, Vay! And so much has happened. Ransom Lake was utterly a madman and went storming out of the house just after he brought you home and the doctor and everyone arrived. He went out determined to find Jerome, and…and I’m sure his intent was to cause a torturous fatality.”
“Yvonne!” Vaden gasped, sitting up awkwardly in her bed. Her body was stiff and aching from lying down so long, but otherwise she suddenly felt quite recovered. “What happened? He…Ransom…he’s all right, isn’t he?”
“He’s in jail, Vay! Imprisoned!”
Vaden shook her head, for her first thoughts were that Ransom had succeeded in ridding the world of Jerome Clayton. And now…would he hang for murder?
“Yvonne! He didn’t…” Vaden began, fearful of the answer. “You’re not trying to tell me that he—”
“No! Oh, no! Jerome—actually, Vay, it seems he wandered into the creek bed after…after Ransom found you. Vaughn Wimber found him there talking to himself and going on and on about how it was some voices or something…voices in his head telling him to do those things to you. Oh, he’s quite mad, Vay. They’ve taken him up to an institution in Denver. He’s quite mad. But Ransom is…well, he’s an utter mess, Vay! He’s been going on and on about how this was all his fault. How he should’ve known you were in danger. How he shouldn’t have left you on the road that day. Oh, Vay! I fear he may eat away at his own mind and end up as mad as Jerome. We’ve all been waiting for you to wake up. The doctor says your body is fine, your injuries were minor, but that you were in a state of shock from the cold and the anguish of it all. It’s why you slept so long. Oh, Vay! You’ve got to go to Ransom at once!”
Vaden threw back the covers and tried to stand. Her head went spinning at first, for it had been so long since she had been conscious. Taking Yvonne’s arm for support, she went to her wardrobe.
“Of course, there’s no way Auntie and Uncle Dan will let you leave the house, considering you must still be hurting and stunned. So we’ll have to go out through the window.”
Vaden paused in her dressing to turn and look at her sister inquisitively. “Yvonne? You are encouraging me to sneak out the window, and to the jail of all places, to visit a man—to visi
t a man unchaperoned, I might add—a man of whom you don’t approve?”
“For pity’s sake, Vay! Hurry up! We don’t have time to think rationally!”
So, determined and knowing that no doubt much more than Yvonne had told her had transpired during her convalescence, Vaden did indeed dress hurriedly. She securely buttoned the coat Yvonne handed to her and climbed out through the bedroom window after her sister.
The bright morning sun tried in vain to warm the cold winter’s day. Quickly she followed Yvonne toward the jail, thinking how cold it would be for Ransom in the confining building.
“Denver says they’re just keeping him there because they think he’ll follow the Claytons up to Denver after Jerome. But I’m sure that once you’ve talked to him, he’ll be fine. Denver says Ransom is still blaming himself for what happened to the family,” Yvonne babbled, barely pausing for breath.
“You know about the family?” Vaden asked, stunned her sister should hold the knowledge.
“Yes. Denver told me all about it. How horrid for poor Ransom. And for dear Denver…to think his entire family was lost all those years, not knowing all that time he still had a brother to hold to.”
Yvonne sighed heavily, and Vaden’s brow wrinkled in wonderment. She could not believe the change in her sister. It was painfully obvious Yvonne and Denver had spent a great deal of time together for her to know such intimate details of the story.
When they at long last arrived at the jail, Vaden burst into the building behind Yvonne. Upon seeing Sheriff Howard sitting at his desk casually reading a book, her temper flared, and Vaden stormed over to him.
“You let Ransom Lake out of here this minute, Sheriff Howard!” she ordered.
Startled, the sheriff looked up, frowning. “Miss Valmont?” he mumbled. Then, clearing his throat, he closed his book and stood up, offering his hand to her. “It’s good to see you’re recovered from your—”
“You’re holding him here, aren’t you?” Vaden nearly shouted.
“Ransom Lake? Well, yes. I have him in—”
The Visions of Ransom Lake Page 29
