The Visions of Ransom Lake (2 page)

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?

She hoped desperately he would visit the store that evening. Then she could get a really good look at him. Oh, she told herself it would be hard not to stare, and she must be shrewd in her visual investigation of him. It would not do for him to sense any hint of her curiosity about him.

“
Vonnie?” Vaden whispered then, rolling over on her side and looking across the room to where Yvonne lay sleeping on her own bed. “Vonnie? Are you awake? I can’t sleep.”

“
For pity’s sake, Vaden,” Yvonne whined. “Let me rest. I know your mind is a whirlwind of excitement and questions…but I really do want to—”

“
Isn’t this all just too exciting? I can hardly keep still! Just think of the experiences we’re bound to have out here. Experiences that will help shape who we become and how we—”

“
Vaden!” Yvonne almost snapped, turning to face her sister. “I am tired. Go for a walk or something if you can’t let me rest. Go out into this dusty, spider-infested world and see the sights of the town. You’re sure to find something to interest you.”

“
I’m sorry.” Vaden knew she could be terribly over verbal most of the time, and she was not angry at Yvonne for being irritated with her. She rose from her bed, smoothing her skirt. “You’re right. I’ll leave you to rest. Goodness knows you’ll need it if you’re to remain patient with me for our first few days here.”

“
What are you doin’ up, dear?” Myra asked as Vaden entered the mercantile. “I thought you were restin’ with Yvonne.”

“
My body can’t rest when my mind is running faster than the wind, Auntie,” Vaden expressed with a dramatic, breathy whisper. “I’m just so entirely excited to be here. There’s something in the very air, Auntie. My life will change somehow because of this visit. I can feel it in my heart. I can feel it in the depths of my very soul.”

Myra smiled at Vaden, amused at her niece’s theatrics. “Well, why don’t you find something to do? A walk maybe.”

“
Ah, yes! A walk. Fresh air for the lungs and food for the mind!” Vaden sighed happily, leaving by way of the mercantile front door.

At her leisure, she meandered down the main thoroughfare of town. She passed a blacksmith’s shop, a barber, a feed and seed store, and several other businesses, all very quaint and interesting in their simplicity. However, when she at last came to the corner around which the wagon carrying the mysterious Ransom Lake had disappeared, something impish gained control of her will. She felt her body turn and start down the dusty road. As she walked along, the town fell farther and farther behind, and she didn’t care, for the sights to be seen on the roadside were visions of fantasy to Vaden.

As she left the last building of town behind her, an enormous pumpkin patch, of such vast dimensions that she could not have begun to guess at the number of pumpkins, stretched nearly as far as she could see on either side of the road. Some of the pumpkins, already a stunning shade of orange, were peeking out from under large green leaves. She bit her lip, thinking a small child could easily become lost among the vines searching for just the perfect pumpkin to carve into a jack o’ lantern on October 31. She would have to ask her Aunt Myra who owned the patch and if the owner sold the pumpkins. She had to own one, just the right one! She would search for it herself until she found her perfect pumpkin. What fun it would be, wading through the mounds of vine and pumpkin. Vaden felt awash with delight at such a beautiful sight as the simple pumpkin patch and at the idea harvest would soon be upon Myra and Dan’s world. She thrilled at the thought of being witness to it.

Sighing with delight, she spoke aloud the words of a poem she’d once read, “‘
And midst the blue of heaven’s sky, the orange of sun’s set drawing nigh, doves fair and white amid it fly, with plumming purples drifting by…a kiss is born of you and I
.
’
” The verse had simply popped into her mind as verse often did when Vaden felt inspired.

Vaden loved to memorize and recite fragments of descriptive poetry. It was her opinion that particular phrases compounded the beauty of nature and romance, such wordings keeping the resplendence of loveliness fresh in one’s mind. Closing her eyes for a moment, she inhaled deeply of the untainted country air, savoring its freshness and letting the beauty of Mother Earth lift her spirits to even loftier heights than before.

When at last she reached the final boundary of the immense patch of pumpkins, she recognized the leaves, vines, and large ripening ovals of a watermelon patch. Though this parcel of land was not as vast as the pumpkins had been, still it was tremendous. As the rather wicked inclination to taste the ripening fruit without asking rose foremost to her mind, Vaden reminded herself inwardly her mother would definitely consider it an act of thievery were she to snitch one of the lovely melons. Smiling, she remembered a time when she and Vonnie were children and sat at their Uncle Dan’s knee mesmerized by the tales he would tell about
“snitchin’ watermelon”
as a boy.

As Vaden walked on, admiring the wildflowers flourishing in the uncultivated areas along the road, she noticed wagon ruts to her right. It was obviously a well-traveled path, though not well traveled enough to have created an actual and easily traversed road. Knowing full well she could not simply continue following after Ransom Lake (for she might actually meet up with him and have to offer an explanation of her presence), she turned down the wheel-rutted path and walked on.

To her profound delight, perhaps half a mile down the path, she came upon the most enchanting vision of a brook. There before her, winding its way along, perhaps twenty feet in width, and lined on either side by large cottonwoods and maples, was a clear, gurgling creek. A quaint and rickety looking bridge arched over it nearby. She immediately ran to it, stepping onto its squeaking boards tentatively. The bridge’s railing seemed sturdy enough, and she leaned on it, peering down into the clear water flowing beneath. There were water spiders, minnows, rocks, and moss, and in the silence of the secluded area, the ramble of the brook sounded like the music of heaven itself.

“
This is it,” Vaden whispered aloud. All her life, wherever the family had lived, she had needed her own place—a secret, tranquil vicinage of her own where she could escape and think or mourn or simply sit. At home she had found such refuge beneath an ancient lilac tree on the family’s property. It was a difficult place to reach, for it required crawling on one’s hands and knees through the dirt to reach the open space behind the tree. Its troublesome accessibility was one of the reasons she loved it so. No one, especially Yvonne, was willing to crawl into it to retrieve or bother her. Certainly this brook was more publicly approachable, but her heart loved it immediately, and it was fairly well hidden by the enormous trees along its banks.