The Visions of Ransom Lake Read Free Page A

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,