The Visions of Ransom Lake

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  Copyright © 2011

  The Visions of Ransom Lake by Marcia Lynn McClure

  www.marcialynnmcclure.com

  All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, the contents of this book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any part or by any means without the prior written consent of the author and/or publisher.

  Published by Distractions Ink

  P.O. Box 15971

  Rio Rancho, NM 87174

  Published by Distractions Ink

  ©Copyright 2011 by M. Meyers

  A.K.A. Marcia Lynn McClure

  Cover Photography by ©Alanpoulson /Dreamstime.com,

  ©Philcold/Dreamstime.com and ©Keith Wheatley/Dreamstime.com

  Cover Design by Sheri Brady

  3rd Printed Edition: September 2011

  All character names and personalities in this work of fiction are entirely fictional,

  created solely in the imagination of the author.

  Any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.

  McClure, Marcia Lynn, 1965—

  The Visions of Ransom Lake: a novel/by Marcia Lynn McClure.

  ISBN: 978-0-9838074-8-3

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2011938724

  Printed in the United States of America

  To Patsy,

  My angel-friend…

  For our beloved intrigue with silver queens and old things.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Oh, Vonnie, this is so exciting! Just think…we’re out west! Really west like we’ve only read about. We’re actually here!”

  “Hush, Vaden. For pity’s sake, hush! My head is pounding from your endless chatter,” Yvonne Valmont sighed, placing a weary finger to her even wearier temple.

  “But, Vonnie, just look at this land. At the space! Gaze on the beauty of that horizon,” Vaden exclaimed, marveling at the beautiful, white, fluffy clouds drifting across the bluest of blue sky. “It’s as if…as if our spirits can breathe out here! And when we get to Aunt Myra and Uncle Dan’s little town…well, they’re sure to have quaint little town socials and pumpkin patches and enormous red barns and quilting bees and cowboys and…” Vaden rambled as she gazed dreamily out the stagecoach window.

  “And gunmen and bank robbers and wells instead of pumps and plumbing and bedbugs and horse manure in the middle of the street,” Yvonne added with a prominent tone of sarcasm.

  But Vaden Valmont was undaunted. Nothing or no one, not even her prim and proper, ever-apathetic older sister, Yvonne, could squelch her enthusiasm about the journey they were taking and the exciting life experience surely awaiting them. So she smiled and shook her head as her sister frowned in irritation and closed her eyes.

  “Oh, Vonnie, you have no appreciation of nature’s beauty, no sense of exploration or adventure, no dreams.” Turning her attention once more to the landscape outside the stagecoach, Vaden sighed and added, “How can you enjoy life with such a dreary attitude toward existence?” The stage rattled on, and Vaden endeavored to keep her excitement to herself.

  It was true Vaden cherished her sister, Yvonne—adored, admired, and loved her. But Vaden could never quite understand Yvonne’s often rather pessimistic attitude toward the simple joys of living. It was Vaden’s opinion Yvonne was far too concerned with propriety and far too incessantly worried about the serious concerns in life. She felt Yvonne spent much too much of her time laboring over her own appearance. It was true Yvonne was a profound beauty, and she labored diligently to present herself as such. However, Vaden thought it a waste of life to agonize over endeavoring to appear so flawless. She preferred to spend more time in studying other people, not having other people study her. People were interesting to Vaden, and this trip she and her sister were making west, to live new experiences and meet different people, seemed far beyond fascinating to her.

  The new scents and the freshness of the unfamiliar dry air of the western United States sent Vaden’s imagination whirling with excitement. As she watched the passing trees, weeds, and wildflowers from the stagecoach window, she thought again of how magnificent it was to travel far from home to a different place. The very idea of it was truly romantic! Yet as Yvonne squealed and angrily brushed a large black-and-yellow spider from her sleeve, Vaden sighed, disappointed at her sister’s inability to simply enjoy the novelty of their adventure.

  

  “My darlin’s!” Myra Valmont sighed. She dramatically put a hand to her chest as she watched her two lovely nieces descending from the stagecoach. “My own girls! How…how lovely you’ve grown to be! I half-expected to see you two still in braids and stockin’s.”

  Yvonne stepped down first. Gracefully descending the stagecoach steps, she hugged her aunt affectionately. “Vaden should still be dressed in braids and short skirts, Auntie Myra, but I’m quite grown up. Don’t you think?” she asked. Yvonne did not intend to appear greatly conceited. It was simply her naive, sometimes tactless manner. She did, at times, have a playful aspect to her nature kith and kin to her sister’s, in fact. However, in public she rarely displayed it.

  Myra shook her head in delighted disbelief as she took Yvonne’s lovely face in her hands, marveling at the girl’s beauty. Yvonne was tall and slender, nearly as tall as Myra. Her raven black hair was boosted high and impeccably styled, and her hat sat atop her head with just the perfect pitch and angle. Her eyes were the deepest of browns and her fair complexion flawlessly free from freckle or blemish of any sort.

  “You’re an angel,” Myra agreed. “A livin’ angel! I can already see the string of poor brokenhearted boys you’ll leave behind you here, Vonnie.” Yvonne’s brown eyes sparkled with flattered delight.

  “Auntie Myra! Auntie!” Vaden called as she stood perched in the stagecoach doorway.

  Myra Valmont released Yvonne and looked up to see her younger niece exit excitedly from the conveyance in a solitary leap from coach to ground. The small, awkward stage steps had been completely ignored, replaced by one hurdle of youthful exuberance. Vaden rushed forward, throwing her arms tightly around her aunt’s neck, and Myra laughed. “Dear Vaden. As cheerful and carefree as always. Now you haven’t changed all that much, have you?”

  “I take offense, Auntie,” Vaden claimed, though still smiling and obviously elated. Her dark green eyes twinkled brightly as she continued, “You think Vonnie an angel, but in me you see no change?”

  Myra shook her head. “Oh, I see that you’ve grown. I only meant you…your spirit is unchanged. And that, my other angel, is a heavenly thing.” Myra marveled at how Vaden had changed, however. Her striking nut-brown hair was pulled up, but not nearly as perfectly and neatly as her sister’s. Vaden’s complexion was smooth and faultless too, but a bit darker than her sister’s, and Myra had no doubt Yvonne took greater care to protect her porcelain skin from the sun. Vaden was smaller by several inches, and it emphasized her appearing younger and less poised. Myra could only smile at the girl. Secretly, she had always favored Vaden. Vaden’s eyes flashed with a deep love of life, and Myra was completely invigorated by merely being in her company, tasting the joy exuded by her spirit.

  “Let’s get you two settled in. Your Uncle Danny is out just now, but when he gets back he’ll be glad to see you here safe and sound. Oh, I’ve such plans, girls! And I know you’ll like it out here. I know you will,” Myra assured them.

  Then the attention of all three was arrested by a wet, mucking sound. Yvonne looked down to see her freshly polished boots ankle-deep in a pile of soft, moist, brownish lumps. She sighed and said, “You see, Vaden, horse manure.”

  Vaden clamped one hand over her mouth to suppress the
wild giggle begging release. Yvonne glared at her. Myra made no effort to hide her amusement and laughed out loud. The song of Myra’s delightful laughter could cheer even the coldest of hearts, and Yvonne, proper and serious-minded though she tended to be, giggled at the humor of the situation as well.

  Myra dabbed at the mirthful moisture in her eyes and sighed. “Oh, Yvonne, you do need to watch your step a bit more carefully hereabout. But you’ll love it, you’ll see.”

  Soon after, having changed to more comfortable day dresses, Vaden and Yvonne sipped tall glasses of refreshment as they sat at a small table inside the general mercantile. Their Uncle Dan and Aunt Myra owned the mercantile, and both girls smiled contentedly as they listened to their aunt’s plans to add a dress shop in one of the back rooms.

  “I know we can do it, girls,” Myra assured them. “You two are excellent seamstresses. It comes from your mother’s diligence, no doubt. And I’m a fair hand myself. There have been so many new people move into the county, and I just know we can tempt the ladyfolk around here. Oh, I’ve such ideas! And besides, your Uncle Danny’s leg is givin’ him so much trouble these days. We really do need the help in the store. There’ve been times lately when I can hardly keep up with the customers.”

  “Mother knew we would be a help to you, Aunt Myra. That’s why she let us come,” Yvonne reminded.

  “I only wish we never had to go back,” Vaden sighed. Standing, she strolled dreamily to the open door looking out onto the road. “I think I should have been born here.”

  Myra chuckled. “You may not think so for very long, Vaden. It’s hard work that’s needed out here.”

  “Hard work is good for people, Auntie. It keeps their bodies strong and their minds busy. It’s what God intended. ‘Idle hands,’ you know,” Vaden stated.

  “Vaden would not see a gray cloud were she standing in the midst of a hurricane, Auntie,” Yvonne said as she smiled at her sister. Yvonne secretly admired Vaden’s positive manner. She worried about it too, for she feared one day there would be something to blacken Vaden’s happy heart.

  “That’s why Vonnie and I love each other so dearly, Auntie. We balance each other. She helps me to keep my feet on the ground, and I help her to have an occasional glimpse of the sky,” Vaden explained, teasingly wrinkling her nose at Yvonne.

  Myra laughed and shook her head. “Oh, I knew you girls would do me good. It’s goin’ to be a wonderful year. I know I’ll just wither up and die when you leave at the end of next summer.”

  “Then don’t think of it now, Auntie. It’s an entire twelve months off in the distance, and I…” Vaden stopped midsentence, her attention suddenly arrested by an approaching buckboard­­­­—rather, by the person driving the fine-looking team pulling it. “Now, there’s an intriguing-looking character,” she mused aloud. Yvonne and Myra both rose and went to the door, their eyes following Vaden’s gaze down the road.

  “Character is exactly it,” Myra confirmed. “Well, girls…there you have it. The county hermit,” she announced, nodding in the direction of the approaching buckboard and its driver.

  “Quit staring, Vaden! I swear, you have no manners,” Yvonne scolded, trying to shift her own attention from the vision. But Vaden could not tear her gaze away and continued to stare curiously as the team pulled the buckboard closer to the store.

  The man driving the horses sat tall in his seat. He was dressed in very worn blue jeans, a tattered looking white shirt from which the sleeves had been completely torn away at the shoulder seams, and a hat far beyond having any resemblance of its original shape. His hair was sable-black, hanging well past his shoulders, and a dense black beard with auburn streaks now and again hung nearly to his chest. The deepest of irritated, questioning frowns furrowed his brow. His expression intimidated even the likes of Vaden, who found it rare to be unsettled by any human being.

  Still, for all the stranger’s menacing appearance, as his buckboard leveled with the doorway in which they stood, Vaden was further intrigued when Myra waved a friendly hand and called, “Good afternoon, Mr. Lake.” The man reined in his team, rather unwillingly it seemed, and nodded toward Myra. “And what brings you to town today, Ransom? Will you be comin’ into the mercantile later?” she inquired.

  Vaden could not help herself. She continued to stare, mesmerized by the stranger. Yvonne’s elbow was near to breaking one of her ribs with its firm nudging.

  In response to Myra’s question, the stranger simply shrugged his shoulders. His gaze fell to Yvonne, lingering only a moment before returning inquisitively to Myra.

  “These are my nieces, Ransom. They’ve come to help us out for the year. This is Yvonne,” Myra explained, pointing to her eldest niece, who nodded cordially. The man’s responding nod was hardly conceivable. “And this is young Vaden.”

  The stranger’s gaze then moved to Vaden, who thought her knees might fail her as the intensity of the odd, light gray tint of his eyes studied her. His fixed attention on her made her feel as if he were reading her thoughts, silently gathering every secret she hid within the deepest regions of her heart. It was almost as if the privacy of her mind had been invaded somehow. It was very rattling to her senses.

  Yet she managed a smile and stammered, “Hello.” The stranger again offered a barely discernible nod in return. He slapped the lines at his team’s back, looked to Myra, and touched the brim of his hat in a gesture of farewell.

  The three women stood silent in the doorway watching the peculiar man until he turned his team at a nearby corner and was out of view.

  “I hope he’s the only one of those around, Auntie,” Yvonne said, releasing the nervous breath she had been holding.

  “That he is, darling. A sad, strange man. Keeps completely to himself. Hardly ever utters a word, and when he does you can hardly tell what he’s saying through all that beard. He lives on a place up in the mountains, but he owns a farm about a mile east too. Hardly ever works it though. I think he prefers the seclusion the mountains give him,” Myra explained.

  Vaden still stared at the corner around which the stranger had disappeared. “Has he been that way his entire life, Auntie? Or does he have some deep, painful, recent tragedy that keeps him in hiding?”

  “Who knows?” Sighing, Myra waved her hand, gesturing ignorance as to the answer. “I’ve no idea even how old he is. Could be twenty…could be a hundred. Like I said, I don’t think anyone’s ever seen him clean-shaven. He’s lived here goin’ on about nine or ten years though. He seems a nice enough man. He’s always polite and one of the first to help whenever there’s trouble. I remember when that twister went through a couple of years back. It tore up a farmhouse near his, and he let the young family that had lost their home live in the house on his land until they were able to rebuild. He did a lot of the work his own self too, as I recall.”

  “He gives me the utter willies,” Yvonne muttered, returning to the interior of the store.

  Vaden smiled. A mystery! Only one hour into arriving for their adventurous year and already a mystery at hand. Something inside of her leapt with anticipation. Her mind began to burn, visualizing potential circumstances. A criminal, perhaps? Hiding out in this small western town? The possibilities were endless in Vaden’s imagination.

  “You two girls must be completely tuckered out,” Myra observed, interrupting Vaden’s musing. “Why don’t you both lie down and rest for awhile before dinner? Your uncle will be home any minute, and you’ll feel more like visitin’ after a nap. And besides, there’s a social tomorrow night, and I don’t want my gorgeous girls going with dark circles under their eyes.”

  “A nap? Auntie, really!” Vaden still gazed down the road where the stranger had disappeared around the corner. “We’re no longer toddlers.” Then, realizing of what else her aunt had informed them, she turned to her and excitedly asked, “A social? Will everyone be there?”

  “I expect so.” Myra smiled. She loved the look of excitement in Vaden’s eyes.

  “How fun! We�
�ll get to meet everyone, Vonnie!” Vaden took hold of Yvonne’s hands and spun about in a circle.

  “Have mercy on me, Vaden! It’s only a social.” Yvonne smiled with delight, however, unable to hide her own enthusiasm.

  “How can I possibly nap, Auntie?” Vaden squealed. “How can I possibly sleep with all of this going on?”

  “All of what going on?” Myra chuckled, pleased at Vaden’s exuberance.

  “All of…all of…all of this!” Releasing her sister’s hands, Vaden threw her arms out to her sides and twirled around merrily. “A quaint mercantile. Townsfolk. Mysterious hermits with no sleeves on their shirts. All of it! It’s too exciting!”

  “Well, maybe. But stage rides are tiresome all the same, sweet pea. I swear my bones ached for a week after my last visit out to see you and your folks.”

  Yvonne nodded in agreement. “Well, Vaden may think the dirt out on the street and the unkempt men in it are the most interesting things in the world…but I for one am weary. I think I will lie down, Aunt Myra. But be sure to wake me when Uncle Dan gets home.”

  “Of course, sweetie.”

  Vaden’s shoulders drooped, her zest having once again been dampened by the lack of enthusiasm of others. Turning halfheartedly, she followed her sister as she walked to the hallway at the front of the mercantile, which led to the house. “I guess it would help me to perk up a bit,” she muttered.

  “As if you ever need more perking up, baby sister,” Yvonne teased.

  However, as Vaden lay on her bed staring up at the strong wooden beams of the ceiling, she could not keep her mind from returning to contemplation of the odd hermit-man who had ridden past the store. His name was Ransom Lake. She knew she would never forget so unusual a name. And there was something about him, something mysterious and fascinating. His eyes, for one thing. They were so unsettling! When his stormy gray gaze rested on her, it had felt to Vaden as if he looked directly into her soul for a moment. She nearly convinced herself that were she to meet him face-to-face, she would indeed see tiny gray storm clouds floating midst the rain color around his pupils. She was wildly curious about so many things concerning him. She wondered why a man would intentionally rip the sleeves from his shirt as it appeared he had done. She wondered how a man could tolerate so much hair covering his head and face. She wondered why he was so reclusive. Did he hold some great secret cached away in the depths of his heart? Was he indeed a criminal hiding from the law to avoid stretching his neck from a rope?