Jerome chuckled. “You be careful there, old man. I heard you’re in no shape to be defendin’ a woman’s honor.”
“You dirty son of a—”Ransom began.
“Get on home, boy!” Denver ordered. “You get yourself on home, unless you want to take on trouble all alone this time.” He nodded at Ransom, who stood, eyes red with his seething. “You go on home, or I’ll let him have at you.”
Jerome angrily clenched his jaw and looked at Vaden. Then, glaring at Ransom Lake, he threatened, “This ain’t over, old man. This is far from over.” Denver had to further restrain Ransom as Jerome turned and walked away.
“Let the fool go, Ransom,” Denver growled. After a moment, Ransom quit struggling to escape his brother’s hold and inhaled deeply to calm himself. “Weasely as he is, you’re not yourself yet.”
“You do know it was him, don’t you?” Vaden asked as she stared at Ransom, hurt he would have denied it so avidly.
“You keep out of his way until I’m better. Do ya understand me?” Ransom was angry and worried. Vaden could see the concern in his eyes.
“I didn’t put myself in his way!” Vaden cried, her tears flowing once more. “And what do you care anyway? Who put you in charge of my well-being?”
Ransom inhaled a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you’ve done so much for me. You’ve returned my brother to me. You’ve helped me find hope. You’ve nursed me back to health twice now and—”
“I’ve been the cause of your ill health both times,” she reminded him.
Ransom sighed heavily. “I just…I just feel responsible for ya, Vaden. You’ve been such a kind and loyal friend, and I—”
“I think I’ll head on back to the mercantile,” Denver interrupted. “Hash it out with him, Miss Vaden. Hash it out. It’s the only way you’ll ever have your peace of mind.”
Both Ransom and Vaden watched Denver walk away, and then the pain, the rising heartache, every emotion battling within Vaden broke the surface simultaneously.
“You just don’t understand, do you?” she stated. She couldn’t hide her feelings any longer or keep silent about them. Her strength was gone to resist confessing. “You really don’t know what you’ve done to me.”
Ransom turned slowly to face her. The air was frigid, and Vaden felt the cold begin to engulf her body and heart as the words poured from her lips. “I think of you every moment of every day! You dominate my dreams when I’m asleep. Every time I turn around, I’m devastated not to see you standing near me.”
“Vaden,” he began, holding up a hand to stop her.
“No,” she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “I have to say this to you. If I say it all out loud, then at least it’s been said, and I won’t have to be haunted by my secrets anymore.” Opening her eyes, she looked at him bravely. “Your voice rings in my ears and head constantly. The sound of it is sweeter than any other music of nature to me. Only to think of your smile, of your laugh warms my heart. Every time you touch me—in even the simplest, most unintended manner—my insides swell so warm and delighted that I wish I could take flight like a startled sparrow. Even just your looking at me. Just the sensation of those gray, stormy eyes of yours on me…it unsettles me beyond your comprehension.” She turned her back to him, for she could no longer face his stare as she confessed. “And…and beyond that, you should be able to imagine. Do you know, Ransom Lake…do you know what power you have over me physically? Surely you’ve noticed how I’ve melted in your arms each time you’ve taken me in them. How completely I bask in the heavenly euphoria that envelops me when you…when you…”
“When we kiss,” he finished for her.
Vaden winced at the sound of his voice and brushed the tears from her cheeks, only to feel them flood once more with the moisture from her eyes.
“There are times when—most of the time, to truly confess—my arms, my body ache to be held by you. To have you confide in me…simply speak to me. And because I know you’re no fool, that you’re very intelligent, I will admit to you now that…that I’ve loved you from the first day I arrived here and you drove your wagon past the mercantile. I suspect you know that all too well.”
“Vaden,” he began, and she heard him take a step toward her.
Immediately, however, she shook her head and hugged herself tightly, moving away from him. “Please. Please don’t say anything to me just now. Please just walk away from me and let me be.”
She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let herself hear his voice. She feared were he to try to comfort her in any manner, she would completely lose control of herself and end up a sobbing, weakened mess, throwing herself into his arms and begging him to become hers to whatever extent he chose.
He did speak, however. Against her innermost wishes, he spoke, and Vaden struggled to keep herself from him.
“I’ll leave ya to yourself if that’s what ya want, Vaden. But it is maybe…no. It is definitely a very good thing ya chose to say these things to me here—in the cold, muddied winter of the outdoors…on a road well-traveled by the people of this town—instead of the night we were shelterin’ in the old house before a warm fire…alone.”
As her brow puckered in a puzzled expression, she heard his footsteps becoming fainter and fainter as he left her. She turned when she sensed he was too far for her to catch up with him, and her hand covered her mouth firmly as she tried to suppress her audible sobbing. Her stomach was wrenching with pain and anguish, and she feared for a moment she would collapse in the mud and die from the misery of her heartache. In fact, in the next moment her body did fail her, and she fell to her knees, sobbing over the grief and pain of what would never be hers. Several times her stomach began to heave, and she feared she would not be able to keep its contents inside. Though the sensation of extreme illness did not pass, she was able to gain control of herself enough to stand and stumble the rest of the way to her brook and her tree. But she found no solace there, only further pain, for it reminded her so of Ransom Lake.
Rather aimlessly she wandered for over an hour until she found herself in the grove of elms, the horrid scene of so much anguish for herself and for Ransom. The now charred and branchless yet still tall trunk of the old dead elm seemed a sentry for the place, an ominous reminder of the pain and terror endured there. Vaden wandered among the trees trying to clear her mind of any thoughts. How blessed it would be to have nothing but a void there—nothing to torment her further, no memory of Ransom Lake. No knowledge of him would perhaps be better than the pain with which she was stricken.
Then she came to the tree where she had been led, by whatever presence, to Ransom Lake. She realized somehow as she stared at the tree, the ropes that had bound Ransom still lying on the ground around its base, that she would rather endure a life of sadness, regret, sorrow, and pain. She would rather be miserable for the rest her life than never to have experienced the man. Reaching down, she picked up a length of the rope, studying the now brown stains made by the dried blood from Ransom’s injuries. It was true. However horrible the pain of loss, the old cliché rang true to Vaden at that moment: it was far better to have loved the man and not been able to possess him than never to have known and loved him at all.
“Fancy meetin’ you here.”
The sound of Jerome’s voice angered Vaden. Turning to face him, drained of defense and having only the strength to hate, she said, “Leave me alone. I have no feelings for you other than distaste at seeing your face. Leave me in the knowledge you were right. I am in love with Ransom Lake, and he returns nothing of it to me. You were right. But you’re wrong if you still think I will turn to you to give me what he won’t. I despise you, Jerome Clayton. So stop wasting your time, and leave me alone.”
So drained of strength and emotion was Vaden that even the fiery red glint that jumped to Jerome’s eyes did not intimidate her.
“I did so much for ya, Vaden. I tried so hard to prove that I was worthy of ya.”
“I had it all planned out so perfectly. And Ransom Lake had to mess it up for me. That day he was shot in the store, I had that all worked out so cleverly. And Halloween night. It would’ve been perfect.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Vaden asked.
“It wasn’t those kids playin’ with a gun in the street, Vaden. Don’t ya know that? I shot Ransom Lake. I meant to shoot near you to frighten ya, then rush to your side to be your comforter, your protector. But my aim must have been off because indeed my bullet would have hit yaif Ransom Lake hadn’t stepped in front of ya. I was grateful to see he’d taken the bullet. I realized it was for the best because now ya would see how weak he was…how such a small injury could shake him. I knew you’d turn from him and back to me.
“And Halloween would’ve confirmed my worthiness to ya. I worked it out with Nathaniel and Toby and the others. I was gonna ride in there, your hero on a magnificent stallion. I was gonna save ya from that horrid trick. I had to pay those boys to do that to you…and even then they weren’t sure. But when I told them it would surely win ya over for me, they were willin’ enough. Then I followed the wagon home that night. It wasn’t Nathaniel who told me what went on between you and Ransom Lake while he was drivin’ the team home. I followed ya. I saw what he did to you. How ya let him do it.
“Of course, those friends of mine…they wouldn’t help me anymore. They told me I was wrong. Nathaniel even said I was crazy to go after Ransom Lake and his brother. I could see how weak they were, so…I simply went up north and hired some real men to help me out. Ransom Lake would’ve died out here too if ya hadn’t showed up to save his worthless hide.”
Vaden could only stare at him with a brief inability to believe what he was telling her. “You shot Ransom when he was in the mercantile that day? You were the cause of that horrid event on Halloween? You intentionally had me drug out there and nailed into that box?” Vaden began shaking her head, unable to understand what would drive a man to do such things. Surely she could not be the cause of all Jerome’s diabolical actions.
“It would’ve worked out wonderfully, Vaden. But that Ransom Lake…he’s like a fly in the ointment at every turn.”
Vaden could only stare at Jerome as her mind fought to understand the situation. Jerome hunkered down, picking up one of the lengths of rope lying at the tree’s trunk.
“How did ya get him loose from here anyhow?” he mumbled.
Vaden’s heart began to increase in its beating, and she drew in a worried breath as she saw Jerome pick up something from the ground.
“Well, look at that,” he muttered as he held Ransom’s knife, frowning as he studied it intently. “Hmmm. Did he have this on him?”
Vaden did not answer but took a tentative step backward. It was only then she realized the danger she was in. This man was mad! Capable of unimaginable things.
“I stripped him of his shirt, checked his pockets.” Jerome frowned as he studied the knife. “He had it in his boot. Is that it, Vaden? And how would you know to look in his boot for a knife?”
“You sit there and puzzle on it for awhile,” Vaden said calmly, taking another step back from him and indicating with one hand he should stay. “You’ll figure it out, I’m certain. As smart as you are, it won’t take you long.”
Before she could turn and run, Jerome jumped to his feet and took hold of her wrist tightly. Vaden’s instinct told her that to struggle would only serve to further agitate him, so she stood before him trying to appear calm.
“Where’re ya goin’?” he asked.
“I do need to be getting back. Aunt Myra will be furious if I don’t finish up my chores before—”
“You don’t see yourself as men see ya, Vaden,” he stated suddenly. “I know ya think everyone in this town is thinkin’ your sister is the prettiest thing around—the most finished and refined of young ladies. I know that’s what ya think. But ya don’t understand men. There’s something about you, something that makes a man start burnin’ inside. Makes him want you above anything else.”
Forcibly he pulled on her arm, causing her body to bump against his. Then he released her wrist and put his arms about her, holding her firmly against him. Immediately, Vaden began to struggle, to lose control of her sensible plan to not flee from him desperately.
“Now, come on, Vaden. Do ya think it was easy for me to stand by and watch Ransom Lake have his liberties with ya? That night I followed Nathaniel’s wagon home…watching the two of you and the way you…believe me, I wanted to kill him long ago. To slit his throat open and watch him die, knowin’ when he did you’d be in my arms.”
Vaden ceased her struggling when she heard a click as Jerome revealed the blade of Ransom’s knife and held it to her neck near the jugular vein. The blade was cold as death. Vaden could only close her eyes and swallow the lump in her throat, waiting.
“How do ya think Ransom Lake would feel knowin’ it was his own knife that bled you dry? Hmm?”
Vaden tried to breathe evenly and keep her wits about her. She would be patient, waiting until Jerome’s defenses dropped somehow. Then she would run. Run for her life!
“This coat of yours,” he mumbled. Vaden could feel the heat of his breath on her face, and she winced at the sensation. “It’s far too bulky. Let’s just take it off, shall we?”
“It’s cold out,” Vaden stated calmly, looking him directly in the eyes. “You…you wouldn’t want me to catch my death out here, would you?”
Jerome raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “Take it off. Or you will definitely catch your death.”
Vaden paused, for the blade of the knife was firm against her flesh. Sighing with irritation, Jerome, using his free hand, removed her mittens, scarf, and coat, letting them drop to the snow covered ground at her feet. She was instantly cold. The breeze among the elms was icy, and frost had begun to fall from the sky.
“My, my,” Jerome sighed as he placed a gloved finger in his mouth, tugging at it with his teeth until his glove was removed. Then his fingers began to toy with the lace at Vaden’s collar. “What a lovely shirtwaist, Vaden. Did ya sew it yourself with your dainty little fingers?”
Vaden reached up, shoving his hand from her neck, but she stilled herself again as the blade of the knife bit slightly at her flesh.
“Hold still!” Jerome shouted. Then his voice was low and soft again as he whispered, “Ya know, not that I’m criticizing the seamstress who made this shirtwaist for ya—I’m sure she was talented with a needle, whoever she was. But…it seems to me this seam here…this one at your shoulder here…” Vaden felt the pressure from the knife at her neck disappear as Jerome moved it to her shoulder. “It…well, it just seems to me that there’s a flaw in the stitchin’.” Vaden gasped, and her body began to tremble as in one swift move Jerome inserted the knife into the fabric of her shirtwaist at the shoulder, ripping the seam from her shoulder to the base of her collar. “This side looks a bit…well, let’s just…” he mumbled as he repeated the process on the other side of her body. “Hhmmm,” he mused, wrinkling his brow and studying Vaden’s shoulders a moment. “Well…must be the collar that’s wrong.”
Vaden held her breath as Jerome slipped the knife beneath her collar at her throat. The blade was facing away from her flesh, but one false move and it would be buried at the hollow of her throat. She felt her stomach wrench as Jerome used his free hand to tug at the torn fabric at her right shoulder. He then bent and placed a long, lingering, sickeningly moist kiss on her exposed flesh.
“Yes,” he mumbled, “I do believe it’s the collar.”
With that, he pulled the knife forward, severing the fabric at Vaden’s throat. Instinctively, Vaden’s hand went to her throat to hold in place the fabric of her shirtwaist, for now the yoke of her shirtwaist threatened to slip down slightly, exposing her shoulders and
clavicle. She felt the chilled bite of cold at her upper back, for the torn fabric of her garment gave her little protection, exposing her skin to the elements. Jerome grinned mischievously. Producing a match from his pocket, he struck it on the bottom of his boot. It fell to her coat, which immediately caught fire. Pulling her forward, his knife once more at her throat, he moved her away from the burning clothing as he chuckled.
“Now then,” he whispered, putting his lips against her ear, “what is there to protect you, Vaden? What else is there to warm your body?” He glanced about him as if searching for something. Then, looking back to her, he raised his eyebrows and added, “I guess that leaves me.”
The realization had been building, the knowledge trying to make itself known to Vaden all along. At that moment she knew, her mind accepted, what horror may be in store for her.
“Jerome,” she began, addressing him by his given name in hopes it would serve to calm him, “please stop this. I—”
The words and her breath were knocked from her lungs as he turned her, slamming her back hard against the trunk of the elm.
“Didn’t your mother teach ya that ya don’t say anything unless ya can say somethin’ nice?” he growled.
His hand went around her throat then, pushing her head painfully against the rough bark of the tree. From the corner of her eye, Vaden could see he still held the knife in his other hand, too close to her bosom to make a struggle safe. But at the repulsive feel of his mouth kissing her shoulders, the moist, abrasive sensation of his tongue grazing her flesh now and again, the danger of the knife he held seemed trivial. Vaden began to push against his chest, trying to maneuver her right foot so she could kick at him. His hand squeezed her throat all the more violently, and he paused in his tasting of her skin long enough to cover each one of her feet with his own, standing on them and rendering her helpless. She felt as if life were being strangled from her. She ignored the horrid feel of his kiss on her cheeks and forehead, and her fingers clawed helplessly at the hand at her throat.
The Visions of Ransom Lake Page 28