The Visions of Ransom Lake (5 page)

“
Never judge a man ’til you’ve walked a mile in his shoes,” she whispered. Clunking around the room several times, she thought about the boots and their owner. These were boots owned by a driven and hard-working man, boots that had walked, ridden, climbed, waded, and run. But the left boot was uncomfortable on one side of her calf. Reaching down, she felt a sheath had been fashioned inside, and she withdrew a large pocketknife. She held the knife up to inspect it better and was intrigued to see an inscription along one side.

“
Denver S. Lake
,” she read aloud. “
Leadville, Colorado
.” She had heard of Leadville, the little town in Colorado that had grown into a rich silver bonanza. “‘
Silver lines the clouds above. Reflects like rain, is rare as love,’
” she recited. She had never liked the particular badly written line of poetry until that moment. Turning the knife over, she mused aloud, “Denver? Not Ransom.” Then she gasped as she realized Ransom Lake was certain to remember he had left the knife in his old boots and would no doubt return looking for it. What if he already had? What if he had returned to find his old boots gone from the barrel in her uncle’s store?

Removing the boots, she shoved them under her bed and put on her own once more. Then, clutching the knife securely in one hand, she dashed out into the mercantile to find it thankfully empty except for Yvonne and her aunt.

“
I thought ya were out walking,” Myra mumbled with a puzzled expression.

“
I…I had to put something away,” Vaden answered. “But I’m going now.” Without pausing for further conversation, she hurriedly left the store, walking down the street in the direction she had seen Ransom Lake go. As if fate had intended it, he appeared suddenly, having just exited the blacksmith’s establishment.

“
Mr. Lake!” Vaden called, waving when he turned and looked at her. Immediately, she froze as the unnerving color of his eyes settled intently on her. How would she explain the knife being in her possession? She couldn’t simply approach him saying,
I stole your boots from the trash barrel and found this within
.
When she made no move to approach him, Ransom Lake strode determinedly toward her. So entirely determined did he seem that Vaden took two steps backward as he approached, for he was ever so intimidating.

“
I-I…” she stammered as he came to stand before her, his stormy eyes glaring at her from beneath long, dark lashes. “I-I…found this in the trash barrel after you had gone.” Slowly she held out her hand to him, opening it to reveal the pocketknife sitting on her trembling palm.

Ransom Lake looked down at the knife, his eyes returning to Vaden’s and narrowing as he reached out and snatched it quickly from her hand. Vaden looked to the ground where her foot began to kick at a pebble. “I-I would also like to apologize for…for my fall and for injuring you. I truly am sorry.”

The man made no audible sound to indicate he was accepting her apology, so she looked up to see him still glaring at her. “I said I am sorry, Mr. Lake.”

Still he said nothing, only stood staring at her.

Vaden felt the hot blush of humiliation rising to her cheeks. How dare he stare at her so, making not the slightest gesture of offering any forgiveness? “Mr. Lake,” Vaden began sternly, “I have apologized to you. A gentleman does not stand silent at such an offering. Even a nod would be more acceptable than your simply standing there glaring at me.”

“
I’m no gentleman, Miss Valmont,” he mumbled. The deep, somehow sultry intonation of his voice as he spoke her name gave Vaden cause to pause as goose bumps enveloped her arms and legs. Vaden struggled to quickly regain her composure.

“
Yes, you are,” she stated. He frowned, obviously surprised at her arguing. “You can hide away in the mountains and grow all the hair you want to try to hide yourself from the world, Mr. Lake, but it doesn’t fool me. You were not raised to be a heathen.”

Then she gasped, horrified, as the man reached forward, taking her chin brutally in one hand. He bent toward her, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her face as he growled, “You don’t know anything about how I was raised, girl. I am a heathen. A man cursed with afflictions and burdens that a child like you could never even imagine. If you’re some overbearin’ missionary-type with wild aspirations of savin’ my soul…don’t waste your time.”

Reaching up, Vaden grasped the man’s nose tightly between her thumb and index finger. “Let go of my face!” she demanded. Stunned at her own actions, she was determined not to let him know how horribly she was intimidated. The tumultuous gray eyes glaring at her widened in astonishment, but he did not release her. Pinching his nose tighter, Vaden repeated her demand. “Let go of my face, Mr. Lake.”

“
Let go of my nose, girl,” he barked, but his grasp on her chin did not tighten. The fact he did not try to cause her further discomfort whispered to Vaden her instincts were right about this man. Her soul sensing this, she felt there was no further reason to provoke him, and she released him. An instant later, he dropped his hand from her chin.

Vaden cleared her throat, straightened her spine and, smoothing her skirts as she met Ransom Lake’s steel glare, she repeated, “Again, I apologize for my clumsiness this afternoon in the store, Mr. Lake.”

“
Forgiven,” he growled.

Vaden nodded, turned, and began walking away.

“
Thank you,” he called out, causing her to stop and turn toward him once more, “for the knife. It’s important to me.”

Suddenly, Vaden felt guilty for treating him so harshly. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I could return it to you.” Then she watched as Ransom Lake tucked the knife into his new boot before she turned away from him once more.

“
That was a quick walk,” Myra greeted as Vaden entered the mercantile only minutes after she had originally left. “But your cheeks are rosy once again, so it must have done the trick.”

“
Quite
rosy,” Yvonne commented somewhat suspiciously as she studied her sister for a moment with the curiosity of a cat.

“
Yes. I suppose so. The…um…the breeze was very invigorating.” Vaden tucked one fist firmly beneath her chin as she leaned on her elbows over the counter and smiled up at her sister and aunt. “Thank you for having us here, Auntie.”

“
Oh, sweet pea,” Myra cooed affectionately, “thank you for coming.”

“
I’m home, girls! I’m home!” Vaden, Yvonne, and Myra turned to see Dan enter the store. “I’m home, and I’m ready for the social.” he announced. Vaden giggled as her dear, bowlegged uncle began to perform something akin to a jig on the wood-planked floor beneath his feet. “I’ve been practicin’ my dancin’ all the day long, girls! Ain’t I the purty boy?”

“
For pity’s sake, Danny! Settle yourself down. What if customers should come in?” Myra laughed.

“
Then I’ll show ’em how it’s done!” Dan hollered as he swept Vaden into his arms and began dancing about the room with her. “It reaches my big ol’ ugly ears that you’ve already captured one young man’s heart in town, sweet pea!”

Vaden felt her heart leap in her chest. “I have? You mean he—”

“
You bet ya! That slick feller Jerome Clayton has already got every young man for miles ready to beat down your door! I expect they’ll be havin’ to go through him first though.” Dan stomped his feet even harder as he danced.

“
Oh,” Vaden muttered. And then she beat herself mentally for even allowing Ransom Lake’s name to jump into her mind when her uncle had said what he did.

“
Oh? Every female under the age of thirty and unmarried has been tryin’ to catch that boy for near two years now, and all you can say is, ‘Oh?’” Dan looked to Myra and shrugged his shoulders.

“
Leave it to Vay not to realize a blessing when she sees it,” Yvonne sighed, smiling at her sister.

“
It’s all right, darlin’. I understand. Not every man in the world can be as good-lookin’ as me!” Vaden smiled again then, and her uncle added, “Besides, ya gotta make sure a man’s got the right nostrils for bean storage.”

With that, Vaden was further amused and joined her uncle wholeheartedly in the happy romp around the room.



Yvonne looked the very image of perfection! As Vaden awkwardly climbed down from the wagon, she turned and watched Yvonne alight gracefully. Her sister’s dark hair was perfectly piled, darling little ringlets cascading everywhere about her face, neck, and shoulders. Yvonne walked into the town hall with an air of grace and dignity only the finest women could master. Her dress of peacock blue was dazzling, and Vaden lagged behind her some distance, for she felt dowdy and plain in her sister’s presence. She wished she had preceded her sister into the town hall so when Yvonne did enter, the crowd within gasping in awe, she could straighten her shoulders, showing her pride in her sister’s beauty.

Vaden’s own dress was scarlet and extremely becoming. It complemented her perfectly curved figure and caused her eyes to look all the more as if tiny, sun-glint diamonds had been sprinkled about in them. Vaden was completely unaware of the fact she outshone her sister’s grace and beauty. Vaden’s delight with life blessed her with modesty. It shone plainly in her already beautiful countenance, enhancing the loveliness of the young woman beyond description.

“
I hate that I look better in scarlet than blue,” Vaden mumbled to her aunt as they entered the hall. “See, Auntie. Everyone’s staring at me wondering how a beautiful, tropical bird like Yvonne could have such a clumsy, ridiculous-looking sister. See how they stare?”

Myra took Vaden’s lovely lace-gloved hand, patting the back of it tenderly and sighing. “Oh, sweet pea. Humility becomes the most beautiful of women all the more.”

Almost immediately, Yvonne and Vaden found themselves nearly pounced upon by eight or ten bachelors of rather varied ages. Yvonne, immediately flattered, captivated them with her charms. Vaden almost deplored their attentions, knowing full well the group of young ladies standing nearby would only resent the Valmont girls attracting such attentions from the men.

As the group of admirers surrounding Yvonne began to introduce themselves to her, the group of young bucks around Vaden did the same.

“
Toby Bridges, Miss Valmont,” one almost attractive, dark-haired young man said, extending his hand to Vaden.

“
Vaden Valmont. I’m so glad to meet you,” Vaden replied, smiling politely.

“
Nathaniel Wimber, Miss Vaden,” another dark-haired young man offered.

“
Mr. Wimber,” Vaden acknowledged. She glanced at the group of young women to her right. Yes, they were irritated to say the least. One young, browned-haired girl in particular seemed to be glaring at her.

“
And ya haven’t forgotten me, have ya, Miss Vaden?”

Vaden looked up to see the flirtatious grin of Jerome Clayton affixed on her. Immediately, Vaden was unnerved. Somehow this particular young man unsettled her. But being polite was of the utmost importance at social gatherings, and Vaden knew it.

Therefore, she forced a friendly smile and politely offered, “Of course not, Mr. Clayton. How delightful to see you.” Then, glancing at the on looking young ladies again, she added, “Would you excuse me please? I’d like to meet some of these ladies over here.” Mustering every ounce of courage she could find within herself, Vaden walked away from the doting young men and toward the circle of gossiping young ladies. “Hello,” she greeted. At first, she was met by only startled expressions. “I’m Vaden Valmont.”

“
Belva Tibbits,” the brown-haired young woman still glaring at her responded. Quickly the girl smiled artificially and offered a gloved hand. Vaden inwardly hoped her feigned friendly smile to Jerome Clayton had looked more believable than did this girl’s. Vaden took the offered hand to find it was as limp as a dead fish. This girl would be no friend. Vaden knew it at once.

“
I’m Selma Wimber,” a cute brunette said with a friendly smile. Her handshake was welcoming and firm. Vaden was hopeful.

“
Raylin Wimber,” another girl said. The other girls seemed kind as well. Only Belva Tibbits radiated negative emotion. Soon, Vaden found herself accepted by nearly all in the group and was involved in their conversation. They discussed their dresses, all the girls endlessly flattering one another. They discussed their hair and what challenges they had each endured in finding just the right pin-points in styling. And, much to Vaden’s expectation, it wasn’t long before the youthful, feminine conversation turned to another foreseen topic.

“
Jerome Clayton walked me home from the mercantile this afternoon!” Selma exclaimed in a hushed and obviously excited voice.

“
Oh, Selma! Really?” another young woman with auburn hair exclaimed softly.

“
That’s nothin’!” Belva sneered. “I heard Ransom Lake is winterin’ in town this year.”

“
Ransom Lake never winters in town, Belva, and you know it.” Raylin was obviously not inclined to believe Belva’s announcement.

“
I tell ya he is! I heard Mr. Clayton talking to Mr. Dennis this morning. He’s movin’ to town for the winter. I saw him ridin’ toward his farm today.” Belva beamed with an irritating air of superiority.

“
I bet you’re just breathin’ heaven, aren’t ya, Belva?” Selma turned to Vaden and explained, “Belva has had, uh…an interest in a peculiar hermit who has lived in the mountains for years. Personally, I’m scared to death of him.”