The Visions of Ransom Lake

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  Vaden gasped audibly and stood up, staring at him, her mouth gaping open in stunned horror at his impropriety in conversation.

  But Ransom Lake stood too, reached out, and unexpectedly took her hand, placing it palm down on his stomach.

  “Like I was sayin’…next,” and he slid her hand upward over his chest to his shoulder before letting it go, Vaden snatching it away quickly, “that’s how it feels to touch me.” He quirked an eyebrow and lowered his voice. “I mean, it’s a different touch than the one the other night. This is how it feels to touch my bare skin.” Then, taking hold of her wrist tightly, he pulled her body against his abruptly. She couldn’t breathe as he held her firmly against him with one arm. “Kind of interestin’, don’t ya think?” he mumbled, a sly grin spreading across his magnificent features.

  Vaden looked away, her breathing rapid both from the embarrassment of his actions toward her and the ecstatic thrill running through her at the feel of his skin on her palm. “How dare you!” she scolded as she felt the blush rise to her cheeks.

  “Oh, don’t go twistin’ yourself into knots over what’s proper and what’s not, girl,” he told her as he released her and again doused his shirt in the brook. He wrung it tightly and threw it over his shoulder as he grinned at her. “Now, I’d go ahead and walk ya on back to town, Miss Vaden, but the way I’m dressed…or I guess ya might say the way I’m undressed on account of you…” He paused to chuckle at Vaden’s astonished expression. “I don’t think folks would understand. And all I need is more things to keep the tongues in town waggin’ about me.”

  “You are completely uncouth…a…an utter brute!” Vaden exclaimed.

  “Well then, talkin’ like that—and I’m not sayin’ you’re wrong about it—but I can only guess you’ve joined the ranks of everyone else in town,” he muttered, his amused grin fading.

  “You know I interpret that as an insult, Mr. Lake,” Vaden scolded. “I just mean that, even though you see me as a child…someone who is forever and always tripping you up in one way or another, it doesn’t mean I don’t hold to certain standards, certain ideas of propriety and respect.”

  “But ya have been wonderin’ about those things. Don’t deny it, girl, ’cause I know different.” He smiled slightly again, the anger at her accusation gone. “Now, run on home and get that curious little mind of yours thinkin’ of something else that’ll give ya reason to stare at me with that strange intensity in your eyes next time I’m in the mercantile. Maybe ya could set higher goals to speculate about.” He dropped his voice and leaned toward her saying, “Maybe now ya should start wonderin’ what it feels like to kiss a man when he’s only half dressed or what it will feel like when I touch your skin.” When Vaden’s eyes again widened in horrified astonishment, he chuckled and shook his head as he defended the statement. “I think ya took my meanin’ way too seriously, girl.” He laughed again. “I mean to say…the only skin women ever have showin’ is from the neck up and the wrist down. And, uh,” he lowered his voice again, “seems to me—now ya tell me if I’m rememberin’ this wrong—but it does seem to me that I already know what those parts of ya feel like.”

  “Oh!” Vaden gasped. She felt the blush burning on her cheeks. “Oh!” She was speechless. However, could she respond to him when his flirting was of such a profoundly unspeakable caliber?

  He grinned at her once more, studying her for a moment from head to toe. Then, nodding at her, he said, “Good day, Miss Vaden. I’ll see ya at the Halloween social. You’ve convinced me it might be fun after all. Especially if there’s a pumpkin rottin’ anywhere in your path.” Chuckling, he turned and began walking toward his home.

  Walking back toward town, Vaden could not keep herself from smiling as she thought back on the conversation she’d had with Ransom Lake on the banks of the brook. Oh, she had acted aghast, and most of her astonishment had been sincere, but his teasing her had sent her heart and mind soaring with delight, for it was obvious indeed she had captured some meager amount of his attentions. How else could he have possibly known all the things she had been wondering about him? How could he have known she had wondered about the sleeves to his shirts, about the feel of his skin? How could he have known unless he had noticed her, taken some paltry measure of interest in her?

  

  That night, Vaden carefully placed several pumpkin seeds into the boot still hidden under her bed. She had picked them up off the ground at the brook bank once Ransom Lake had started home following their incident in the pumpkin patch. Just as she slid the boot back into its hiding place, Yvonne entered their room, yawning as she climbed into her own bed.

  “Well, Vay,” she began. “You were gone for quite awhile this afternoon. Have you anything to confess to me? Any great adventure?”

  Yvonne’s sarcasm irritated Vaden, so she dramatically went to the bedroom door and closed it tightly. Then she walked to Yvonne, plopped herself down on the foot of Yvonne’s bed, and announced calmly, “I’ve touched the bare skin of a man’s chest.”

  Yvonne gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as it dropped open. Then she began swooning from side to side as if she might faint as she continued to struggle to catch her breath. “Don’t tease me so, Vay! You nearly stopped my heart!”

  “But I’m not teasing, Vonnie. I have done it. I’ve touched a man’s bare—”

  “Don’t say it again! Vay! What are you talking about? Whenever would you have had the chance to—”

  “Today. Ransom Lake sought me out. He truly sought me out, Vonnie,” Vaden whispered delightedly. “He found me in the pumpkin patch and was apologizing to me. I fell into a pile of rotten pumpkins, and he fell with me, so we both were covered in seeds and stringy squash.”

  “Are you telling me that…that you and Ransom Lake…Vaden! Most people at least choose hay to roll around in if they’re going to act so irrationally…so immorally!” Yvonne was pale, and Vaden felt guilty suddenly for worrying her.

  “No, no, no, Vonnie. It was purely an accident. I slipped and, trying to avoid the fall, pulled him down with me.”

  “How then, if this all was so innocent, did you end up touching his…his…”

  “Chest,” Vaden finished. “He helped me up, and we walked to the stream to wash our hands…only his shirt was soaking with pumpkin so he removed it to—”

  “He removed his shirt in your presence?” Vaden now feared Yvonne might truly lose consciousness. She was paler than ever.

  “It was soaked in sticky squash innards, Vonnie. He used the shirt to wash off his chest.”

  “Did he not wear his flannels beneath? Are you telling me the man doesn’t wear flannels?”

  “No, he doesn’t. He says they itch him. Anyway, it was amazing, Vonnie. He said he knew I had been wondering how he…felt…so he took my hand and ran it over his stomach and—”

  Yvonne clamped her hands over her ears. “Don’t speak it, Vay! Don’t speak it!”

  Vaden did not speak it, for she felt worried at shocking her sister so. Yvonne closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again and dropped her hands from her ears. Then an odd glow captured the depths of Yvonne’s eyes, and she took hold of Vaden’s shoulders. “How did he feel, Vay? Tell me at once! How did he feel? Was it horrid? Was it—”

  Vaden smiled. Yvonne was as curious as she was. She imagined every woman was and that sisters were blessed to have each other to share their experience and knowledge with. “He felt…well…his skin was soft. As soft as mine. But his stomach or rather the muscles beneath the skin of his stomach and chest were as solid granite, Yvonne.”

  “Was he warm or cold?”

  “Warm. Very warm.”

  “Was it a pleasant experience or a horrid one?”

  “Well, I suppose it would’ve been marvelously pleasant had I not been so completely unnerved. But, Vonnie, it unsettled me so. However, something deep within me tells my soul that had any other man appeared so scantily clad before me…the effect on me would have been quite di
fferent.”

  Yvonne nodded emphatically. “Well! I would be worried all the more if it hadn’t. But, Vay…you cannot make a habit of touching men! Especially bare ones.”

  Vaden smiled, amused at her sister. Yvonne was as curious as she was, and Vaden knew it. Yet Yvonne was ever the perfect example of a proper lady. “Oh, but Vonnie,” Vaden whispered, “Ransom Lake is no ordinary man. He’s more like…Adonis.”

  “Help us all, Vaden Valmont!” Yvonne scolded. “You’ve got the likes of Jerome Clayton chasing madly after you, and you’re obsessed with this…hermit man.”

  Vaden sighed and rolled her eyes in exasperation.

  Yvonne sighed as well and then smiled softly. “I will admit, Vay…Ransom Lake puts even a handsome man like Jerome to shame.” Taking Vaden’s shoulders once more, she added, “But you mustn’t be touching him in such a manner again, Vay. Do you understand?”

  “I know. I know.” Vaden admitted the knowledge because she did know the impropriety of it from her sister’s point of view.

  Yvonne sighed and smiled, convinced her sister understood the seriousness of the situation. “Off to sleep with you, baby sister. Though I doubt it will come easily to you now.”

  Yvonne was right. Vaden could not go to sleep for long hours, for the vision of Ransom Lake smothered in pumpkin and smiling down at her kept itself vivid in her mind until the wee hours of the morning.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  As Yvonne and Vaden sat in the backseat of the buggy on the way to the harvest and Halloween social in town, Vaden found it difficult not to fly from the conveyance and run headlong toward their destination.

  “Oh! Why is he going so slow, Vonnie?” she whispered with irritation to her sister. “Doesn’t he know this mare can go twice this fast and not be winded?”

  Yvonne smiled and shook her head. “I’m certain everyone will still be there when we arrive, Vay. It’s still a quarter of an hour before the party begins.”

  “But we should be there early…to…to help with things,” Vaden stammered, though she knew she could not fool Yvonne. Yvonne knew full well whyVaden was so anxious to arrive at the social.

  “You’re going to break Jerome’s heart tonight if you ignore him completely, Vay,” Yvonne whispered.

  “I won’t ignore himcompletely,” Vaden assured her sister. However, the mention of Jerome dampened her spirits enough that she no longer felt the need to complain about Uncle Dan’s relaxed attitude toward arriving at the social.

  When at long last the Valmonts did arrive at the large oak just west of town, Vaden’s heart soared for a moment before sinking as she noticed that Ransom Lake had indeed decided to attend. There he stood, not far from the large oak’s trunk, completely surrounded by the ladies of the town, young and old. To make matters worse, Jerome was upon her instantly, offering a gallant hand to help her down from the buggy.

  “Ya look more divine than the stars in heaven tonight, Miss Vaden,” he flattered.

  She forced a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Clayton. But you flatter far too dramatically.”

  Jerome smiled and winked at her, offering her his arm. As Vaden walked with him toward the platform that had been raised for the purpose of dancing, she looked to where Ransom Lake stood surrounded by female admirers. His eyes held hers for a moment, and he nodded a greeting. Vaden nodded in return, praying inwardly for him to simply break free of his admirers and approach her. Please, she pled with him inwardly. Please come to me, Ransom Lake. But then Belva Tibbits tugged on his sleeve, and he looked to her and away from Vaden.

  “Well,” Jerome sighed and Vaden looked up to him, feeling guilty, for she was certain he had caught her staring at Ransom Lake. “Ol’ Ransom Lake has certainly taken the town by storm since he rid himself of his whiskers, hasn’t he?”

  Vaden frowned, slightly disturbed at the barely discernible twinge of resentment in Jerome’s voice. She looked at him, but his face showed no sign of what she had felt in his voice.

  “I know you’re just as fascinated by him as the next girl, Miss Vaden. But don’t worry.” He covered her hand with his own and patted it warmly. “I’m patient. I know it’s just the mystery of it all that catches your attention. I can wait until it’s passed.”

  Vaden shook her head, unable to be certain she had understood him correctly. “I am not infatuated with Ransom Lake, Mr. Clayton.” The statement was true enough, for Vaden knew her love for Ransom Lake went far and away beyond mere infatuation. “And I think you should understand that—”

  “Sshhh,” Jerome whispered, putting an index finger to his lips. “I know. I know. You’re going to say you’re not like the other girls in town. That he doesn’t cause ya to act as they do. I know. I know you’re different. That’s why I’ve chosen you. And, Vaden…I do think it’s time ya started callin’ me by my first given name. Don’t you?”

  Something about the conversation was making her very uncomfortable. Jerome’s implications where she and he were concerned were far too serious. Furthermore, she hadn’t liked his using her first name and was determined he understand that she would not use his. “But, Mr. Clayton, I think a formal address between us is more—”

  “Let’s dance,” he interrupted, helping her to step up to the platform. He smiled benignly, and Vaden felt relieved. She had been reading too much into the conversation. She obviously had a tendency to do this often, for even though she and Ransom Lake had shared at least two intimate conversations or moments, he seemed almost indifferent to her as he assisted Belva Tibbits onto the platform and led her in a dance very near to where she danced with Jerome.

  As the night wore on, Vaden was hurt and dismayed when the situation did not change. Not once did Ransom Lake ask her for a dance, though he seemed to dance with nearly every other female on the premises—several of whom spitefully mentioned the fact of it to Vaden. To make matters worse, Jerome was entirely too attentive to her, almost possessive, and she began to resent him for it. She was all too relieved each time one of the other young men would ask for a dance. It became a chore, the social—a chore in Vaden’s eyes instead of a party. A grand and glorious disappointment.

  And then, late in the event, nearly at its intended ending time, Vaden broke free of Jerome’s attentions long enough to stand before the enormous bonfire alone for a moment. She looked up into the dark night sky watching the sparking bits of wood that would break free and fly into the blackness above, lighting it for only a moment. The burning wood smelled comforting and warm, and Vaden hugged herself, sighing wistfully.

  “‘And so burns the cedar, warm…with spice. Lending fragrance to the air and…’” she began to recite to herself. She happened to glance to one side and caught sight of Ransom Lake standing nearby, Belva Tibbits attached to his arm. He was looking directly at Vaden, a mischievous glint to his mesmerizing gray eyes. As Belva babbled on about something Vaden could not discern above the crackling of the fire, Ransom Lake continued to stare at her. She looked away for a moment, unnerved by his intense scrutiny of her, only to look back to find him still staring at her. A sly grin slightly curved the corners of his mouth as he held out a hand toward her, motioned with his fingers for her to move toward him, and then proceeded to place his hand at his stomach, running it up and over his chest in exactly the manner he had directed her hand to do only a week earlier.

  Vaden’s mouth dropped open in an indignant gasp. Ransom Lake’s smile broadened at her reaction. At that moment, Belva tugged on his shirtsleeve, once again gaining his attention. Vaden wondered why it was he even owned a nice shirt with sleeves to wear to such a function, for it had twice taken his attention from her. Vaden looked away from Ransom Lake.Through the flames of the fire,she could see Jerome talking with Nathaniel, Toby, Frank Hodges, and Randy Lange. Though Vaden had been to several gatherings at which Nathaniel and Toby were in attendance and was familiar with them, she was not very familiar with Frank and Randy, though she knew they were about Jerome’s age and two of his friends. Jerome paused in
his conversation, looking about.Vaden could only surmise that he searched the darkness for her.

  “I’m going home, Vonnie,” Vaden informed her sister after pulling Yvonne aside from the table overflowing with good things to eat.

  “What?” Yvonne asked, utterly perplexed. “You can’tgo home now, and why would you want to anyway?”

  “I’m going, Vonnie. Just tell Uncle Dan and Aunt Myra for me, will you?”

  Yvonne frowned, for it was entirely unlike her sister to want to leave any kind of social gathering. And to want to leave one at which Ransom Lake was in attendance was completely unthinkable.

  “I’ll come with you then, Vay. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. And you stay here. I’m just…just tired. I want to go. Stay here, Vonnie. It would upset me too much if you were to give up your fun for me.” Vaden hugged her sister and turned toward home.

  It was a beautiful night for walking. The sky was clear, the air crisp, and the stars bright overhead. She smiled as she passed Vaughn Wimber’s house, which had a grinning, impressively carved jack o’-lantern donning every window. What a harvest he had! She admired him for working so hard at growing pumpkins.

  The air was thickly scented with the mingling aromas of applewood and cedar burning to make houses warm and cozy. The chilldelightfully nipped at her cheeks and nose, and Vaden managed a somewhat halfhearted smile for the wonder of October.

  Then her thoughts turned to less pleasant venues as she thought again of Ransom Lake’s nearly ignoring her at the social, of his instant and irritating popularity there,of Jerome Clayton and his possessive attentions toward her. Her evening had been a dismal experience, and in one way or the other, each of the men in her thoughts had contributed to it.

  So deep in thought was Vaden Valmont as she walked along the deserted street on Halloween night that it wasn’t until the smothering wool blanket was covering her head, something else binding her arms to her sides, and someone lifting her into a wagon that she even realized there had been anyone else near to her. She tried to scream out, but something was tied around the blanket at her mouth, and she could only struggle. She heard laughter—the laughter of Halloween pranksters. But not of children intent on tipping over outhouses.This cruel laughter was the laughter of young men. And her fear rose to immensity as she felt the wagon lurch forward.