The Visions of Ransom Lake (25 page)

“
What do ya mean by that, girl? My long-lost brother?!” he growled.

“
I-I mean…you seem to think you’re the only worthy male in this town. And I meant to say that…I know you’re unavailable, so what do you expect us young women to do? Wait until you find an interest in one of us? Which we know won’t happen, so I was simply—”

“
Mockin’ me?”

“
Yes, sir.” Vaden felt horrible inside. Obviously she’d touched on something very sensitive with Ransom Lake. He looked at her for a moment as if he didn’t know what to say or do.

“
I…I have to get some things from your aunt. You’re right. It’s none of my business. Forgive me, Miss Vaden.” He turned from her and began walking away.

“
Mr. Lake!” she called to him, hitching up her skirts and taking out after him. His stride was long and quick-paced, and she nearly had to run to keep up with him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lake. I’m sorry. You came out here to try to cheer me, and I only upset you in return.”

“
I’m not upset,” he spat.

“
Please. I can’t stand for you to be angry with me. I’m sorry. Please. I was only upset and—”

He stopped abruptly, turned, and took hold of her shoulders tightly as he glared down at her. “You and I are thrown into each other’s paths far too often. Until one or the other of us gets control of who we are again, neither one of us will be content. Isn’t that right?” He frightened her at that moment. He had far too great an insight into what she felt, but she wondered at his estimation of himself.

“
I don’t see how that applies to you, sir,” she ventured.

“
I belong alone, girl. I was happy that way. Life was easier. I’ve lost sight of that, and I’m tryin’ to find the middle ground of the two.”

“
And…and I trip you up. Is that what you mean?” Vaden offered as the tears filled her eyes once more.

“
Yes. But not the way you’re thinkin’.”

Hanging her head then, for the humiliation was heavy in her heart and mind, she whispered her apology. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lake. For my behavior in the wagon that night. I…I’m truly sorry. I know how unbecoming…how completely improper it was, and I want you to know that I scold myself inwardly for it every day.”

“
What?” he asked. “What are ya talkin’ about? I swear, you could send a man to drinkin’ tryin’ to understand ya sometimes.”

“
I acted so terribly. I…I tried to…”

“
Seduce me?” he finished, and Vaden winced at the truth of his words. “You’re trying to apologize for temptin’ me.” With that, the color returned to his face, along with the smile. Unexpectedly he took her in his arms then, embracing her firmly against his body as he chuckled. “You’re a funny kid, Vaden Valmont. Has that been what’s worried ya all this time?” Not wanting him to know it was only a small part of her worries, she nodded, letting her arms go around his waist. “Well, I’ll tell ya what, little friend. I’ll try to seduce you sometime, and then we’ll be even. Okay?” Vaden looked up at him, shocked he would tease about such a thing and hurt once more at his deeming her merely his friend. “For pity’s sake, girl. Don’t let a little thing like that bother ya. Besides, that moment between you and me was my fault, not yours.” When she did not answer, he released her and mumbled, “If it bothers ya that much…I’ll swear never to do anything like that again. Cross my heart and hope to—”

Vaden reached up, clamping a hand over his mouth to stop the words of such a vow. “Don’t even speak something like that!” she scolded, for it unnerved her to have him mention death.

“
Somethin’ like what? Somethin’ like hope to die? Or somethin’ like I’ll never again do to ya what I did in the wagon?” A friendly grin spread across his face once more, and she realized he was only teasing her. “Come on. Your Aunt Myra will think I’m up to no good out here with ya.”

Taking her hand, he began to pull her back toward the mercantile. How Vaden wished her aunt had reason to think Ransom Lake was up to no good with her. But it was not to be. She sensed that it never would be again.



As the wind howled outside the Wimber home, Vaden tried to calm her rising anxiety at Mrs. Wimber’s not having returned. The hour was later than Vaden had expected to have stayed tending the children, and it gave her cause for concern. The storm was turning violent. She had visions of not only having to tend the children through the night but of missing Thanksgiving Day and the most coveted guest joining her family for dinner.

“
Violet! Put your brother down, honey. You can’t be dragging him around like that,” Vaden softly scolded. Violet had been carrying the baby back and forth across the room for nearly half an hour. Vaden was worried the small girl might be getting more tired and weak than she realized. How she wished Selma and Raylin had not gone to their uncle’s house for the night. Then they could have tended to their young brothers and sister.

“
Tell us a story then, Miss Vaden. Please,” Violet begged.

Vaden had not felt like telling stories for some time. Yet Violet’s sweet, delighted voice convinced her at last, and she nodded her head amidst the pleadings of the children. “Very well.”

Vaden glanced at the clock sitting on the mantel and noted Mrs. Wimber was nearly two hours late. Through the window she could see the snow falling and hear the wind. She was starting to worry once more that perhaps the children’s mother would not be able to get home. Ransom Lake obviously had been correct in predicting the storm, and it was becoming severe. She did not want to be snowed in with the Wimber children for days and days on end. So with the anxiety over the storm building within her, yet the hope she would be able to get home, Vaden began to bewitch the children with her talent for storytelling.

“
This is the story of Cinderella,” she began. “Cinderella was a beautiful young woman. She had been loved oh so dearly by her cherished parents. Tragically, her mother died when Cinderella was very young, and her father, feeling his treasured daughter needed a feminine heart to care for her, married a widow with two young daughters of her own.”

Vaden wove her tale, dramatically as always, trying to keep the children’s minds, and her own, from the howling wind and blowing snow. As the tale wore on, so did the night.

“
And Cinderella, in fleeing so quickly as to not be set upon by the castle guards, tripped. One of her beautiful dancing slippers—princesses
always
wear slippers instead of shoes—one of her beautiful dancing slippers fell from her foot and was abandoned on the castle steps.” Vaden dramatically kicked off one of her boots, watching it land with a thud in the middle of the floor. “And there it lay as Cinderella fled, for the guards were so close behind her she had not one extra moment to spare in trying to reach back and retrieve her lovely slipper.”

Vaden continued the tale, telling of the anguished prince, who searched and searched in vain for the fair maiden whose dainty foot would fit the slipper, thus revealing his one true love.

“
But…why didn’t the prince just look for her face, Miss Vaden?” Violet inquired. “Why didn’t he just know who she was when he saw her?”

Vaden smiled and went to the fire, where she carefully dirtied her fingertips with soot from the hearth. “Because, you see, Violet,” she began as she dabbed at her face with her soiled fingertips, “Cinderella’s beauty, her feature of face, was hidden beneath the ashes and soot that gathered on her while she was cleaning the fireplaces in the house. So when the prince came to her stepmother’s house to try the slipper on every maiden there, he did not recognize her. And her stepmother told the prince that their servant girl had not attended the ball.”

Just then the door to the Wimber home was forced open, and in stumbled Mrs. Wimber, covered with snow from head to toe. Her face was red and chapped from the wind.

“
Mama!” went up the general cheering among the children.

“
It’s the fury of perdition out there, Vaden! I don’t know how Mr. Lake will ever get ya home in this. I’ve told him the two of ya should shelter here, but he says your Aunt Myra was very adamant ya be home tonight safe and sound,” Mrs. Wimber explained between gasps and kissing the warm cheeks of her happy children.

“
What do you mean Mr. Lake will get me home?” Vaden asked, confused. “I thought Uncle Dan would…” At that very moment, Ransom Lake stepped from the furious storm without into the warm room within, closing the door firmly behind him.

“
Your uncle’s bad leg is actin’ up, Miss Vaden, and he asked me to see Mrs. Wimber back and you safely home.” He was so handsome, his presence so dominating!

“
But…but she can’t go yet, Mr. Lake,” Violet argued, going to stand before him and tugging on his pant leg. “She hasn’t finished Cinderella.”

Vaden stepped forward, intent on explaining to the child why she must go at once, but she paused when she saw Ransom Lake smile and hunker down so he was more at the child’s level. “Well, then, miss…I guess I’ll just have to have a glass of water in the kitchen before I drag Miss Vaden away from ya.” He smiled and gently squeezed the girl’s cheek between his thumb and forefinger.

“
Quickly though, girl,” he ordered then, standing and scowling at Vaden. “This storm is comin’ in quick.” Then, as Mrs. Wimber smiled at her children and motioned for Ransom Lake to follow her into the kitchen, Vaden thought she might die of humiliation when he tripped over her boot that lay in the middle of the room. “Just a moment, Mrs. Wimber,” he said, stooping and picking up her boot.

“
Oh, no! It’s just part of the…” Vaden stopped when he raised his gloved palm in her direction, indicating she should be silent.

“
Cinderella is it, Miss Wimber?” he asked Violet.

“
Yes! Cinderella. And the prince has only just this minute tried the slipper on the awful stepsisters and is makin’ ready to leave!” the child offered excitedly. “Ya see…he can’t recognize his beloved Cinderella because she has soot all over her lovely face. See?”

Vaden wanted to shrink down and slip through the cracks in the floor, for at that moment as Ransom Lake looked at her, raised his eyebrows, and chuckled, she remembered the soot with which she had dusted her face.

“
I
do
see, Miss Violet,” he mumbled.

Vaden became even more uncomfortable and a little angry when Mrs. Wimber also was unable to suppress her laughter.

“
But
this
prince was smart, ya see, Miss Wimber,” the man continued, and Vaden’s eyes widened as he approached her, holding her boot tightly in one hand. “Ya see,
this
prince could recognize Cinderella with his heart. He didn’t need to see her face. And so he paused in takin’ his leave.” Vaden’s heart began to beat frantically as he drew closer to her.She shook her head slightly, unable to believe he was involving himself in her tale. “He looked at the small girl in the corner, covered in soot and ashes. And his heart spoke to him, telling him this was she—the one who had stolen his heart at the dance.”

“
Ball. It was a ball, Mr. Lake,” Violet corrected in a whisper before giggling delightedly at what was transpiring.

“
Forgive me. Stolen his heart at the
ball
. The prince approached the lovely Cinderella, extendin’ his hand to her, hopin’ she would reveal herself in placin’ her own hand in his.” Vaden was instantly mesmerized, for he was astoundingly good at telling the tale.

“
Take his hand, Miss Vaden,” Violet prodded. “It’s in the story.” Vaden only then realized Ransom Lake did indeed hold out his hand in her direction. Tentatively she took his hand, and immediately his touch, even with the glove covering it, sent her body tingling.

Ransom Lake continued, “The prince gazed into the beautiful emerald of Cinderella’s eyes and said, ‘
Pray, try the shoe’—
”

“
It’s called a slipper, Mr. Lake,” Violet interrupted. “Princesses always wear slippers. Not shoes.”

“
Thank ya, Miss Violet,” he whispered aside to the small girl. Vaden couldn’t help but smile, so charmed was she by his thoughtful attention to the children. “The prince gazed into the beautiful emerald of Cinderella’s eyes and said, ‘
Pray, try the slipper, fair maiden. If not for your own ambitions…pray, try it for love of your prince.
’” Then, much to Vaden’s horror, he knelt on one knee at her feet, reached beneath her petticoats, and drew from beneath them her stockinged foot. “As the prince slipped the shoe—excuse me, slipper—easily onto Cinderella’s tiny foot, she said…” he prodded, nodding with raised eyebrows.

“
Oh! Um,” Vaden stammered, completely undone by his holding her foot and directing it into her boot. “Um…Cinderella said…she said…‘
Thank you, your highness
’…um…”

“
Yes.” Ransom Lake chuckled and stood, again taking Vaden’s hand in his own. “Cinderella said, ‘
Thank you, your highness
.
’” He paused for a moment, and his eyes narrowed, his smile fading as he mumbled, “‘
Thank you for seein’ beneath soot on my face and lovin’ my soul.
’”

His words seemed pointed, but Vaden was certain she imagined his inferences toward her own willingness to look past the outward appearances of the hermit from the mountains to find the wonderful spirit of Ransom Lake beneath. Yes. She must’ve imagined it.