with—”
Riley’s words were silenced, and Autumn’s hands flew to her mouth as the power of Ransom Lake’s fist met with Riley’s jaw.
As Riley hit the boardwalk, Ransom Lake aggressed toward him and rumbled, “Well, the apple sure don’t fall far from the tree. You’re as bad a seed as your daddy is, Riley Wimber! How such bad men could come from the likes of Vaughn Wimber, I’ll never know. But you and your daddy…”
Autumn brushed tears from her cheeks as she watched her father begin beating on Riley Wimber. Over and over he hit him—all the while going on and on about what Riley’s father had done to Autumn’s mother years and years before—about how he’d better never even look Autumn’s way again unless he wanted to find himself six feet under and pushing up daisies.
Like everyone else in town, Autumn knew that if there were one man in the world a body didn’t want to cross, it was Ransom Lake. She watched as her father pulled Riley to his feet and instructed Carter and Fletcher to drag him home to his mama and to tell Nate Wimber that he’s lucky his son was returned still breathing.
By the time Carter and Fletcher had begun dragging a beaten and bloodied Riley home, quite a crowd had gathered around in the street and on the boardwalk.
“What happened, Ransom?” Dan Valmont asked as Ransom stood wiping the blood from his knuckles on a handkerchief Aunt Myra had handed him.
Ransom shook his head. “That Riley Wimber…he’s a no-good boy,” Ransom mumbled, his anger still obvious. “He backed Autumn up against this wall here and went to doin’ things a man ought not to do to a woman who ain’t his wife.”
Autumn heard her Aunt Myra gasp and began to weep again as Myra reached out and gathered her into her arms. “Oh, honey! I’m so sorry! Those Wimber boys…they’re as bad as they come, it seems.”
“This young man here come out and was goin’ around with the bad ones when I came up on it all,” Ransom said. He nodded to Gentry. “I thank you for that, Gentry James. You’re a good man. I knew it the first time I seen you.”
“I couldn’t…I couldn’t stand up to them though, Mr. Lake,” Gentry panted. “I guess I just ain’t myself yet.”
“Doctor Sullivan!” Autumn cried, rushing to the old doctor as he stepped out of his house to investigate the ruckus. “Mr. James has been hurt again! I need you to tend to him right away! Please hurry!”
“I’m fine,” Gentry mumbled, a deep frown furrowing his brow.
“You’re not fine!” Autumn argued, rushing to Doctor Sullivan, taking hold of his hand, and quickly leading him to Gentry. “See? He’s bleeding again!”
Ransom Lake’s eyes narrowed as he watched old Doc Sullivan inspect the cowboy’s reinjured wounds. Something he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time was seeping into his soul. He looked to Autumn, sickened at what had happened to her at the hand of Riley Wimber. His stomach churned with nausea, and a deep, painful guilt at not having been nearby to protect her made him want to vomit. But he looked at Gentry James too—studied the young cowboy who had dashed out careless of his health—or his attire, for that matter—to champion and protect Autumn.
A vision began to form in his mind, and a whisper began to echo in his ears. Oh, he’d seen how taken Autumn was with the wounded cowboy convalescing at Doc Sullivan’s place. He and Vaden were too aware of anything and everything about their children not to have noticed it. Still, Gentry James was a cowboy, and Ransom and Vaden both knew cowboys were very often drifters who didn’t stay in one place all too long.
But now—now the vision had formed in his mind. The whispering was still echoing in his ears—and Ransom Lake had learned long ago not to ignore his own soul.
Thus, he asked, “Doc? Is he gonna be all right after this?”
“He’ll be fine,” Doc Sullivan said. “I’ll put some new stitches in and clean him up
Riley’s words were silenced, and Autumn’s hands flew to her mouth as the power of Ransom Lake’s fist met with Riley’s jaw.
As Riley hit the boardwalk, Ransom Lake aggressed toward him and rumbled, “Well, the apple sure don’t fall far from the tree. You’re as bad a seed as your daddy is, Riley Wimber! How such bad men could come from the likes of Vaughn Wimber, I’ll never know. But you and your daddy…”
Autumn brushed tears from her cheeks as she watched her father begin beating on Riley Wimber. Over and over he hit him—all the while going on and on about what Riley’s father had done to Autumn’s mother years and years before—about how he’d better never even look Autumn’s way again unless he wanted to find himself six feet under and pushing up daisies.
Like everyone else in town, Autumn knew that if there were one man in the world a body didn’t want to cross, it was Ransom Lake. She watched as her father pulled Riley to his feet and instructed Carter and Fletcher to drag him home to his mama and to tell Nate Wimber that he’s lucky his son was returned still breathing.
By the time Carter and Fletcher had begun dragging a beaten and bloodied Riley home, quite a crowd had gathered around in the street and on the boardwalk.
“What happened, Ransom?” Dan Valmont asked as Ransom stood wiping the blood from his knuckles on a handkerchief Aunt Myra had handed him.
Ransom shook his head. “That Riley Wimber…he’s a no-good boy,” Ransom mumbled, his anger still obvious. “He backed Autumn up against this wall here and went to doin’ things a man ought not to do to a woman who ain’t his wife.”
Autumn heard her Aunt Myra gasp and began to weep again as Myra reached out and gathered her into her arms. “Oh, honey! I’m so sorry! Those Wimber boys…they’re as bad as they come, it seems.”
“This young man here come out and was goin’ around with the bad ones when I came up on it all,” Ransom said. He nodded to Gentry. “I thank you for that, Gentry James. You’re a good man. I knew it the first time I seen you.”
“I couldn’t…I couldn’t stand up to them though, Mr. Lake,” Gentry panted. “I guess I just ain’t myself yet.”
“Doctor Sullivan!” Autumn cried, rushing to the old doctor as he stepped out of his house to investigate the ruckus. “Mr. James has been hurt again! I need you to tend to him right away! Please hurry!”
“I’m fine,” Gentry mumbled, a deep frown furrowing his brow.
“You’re not fine!” Autumn argued, rushing to Doctor Sullivan, taking hold of his hand, and quickly leading him to Gentry. “See? He’s bleeding again!”
Ransom Lake’s eyes narrowed as he watched old Doc Sullivan inspect the cowboy’s reinjured wounds. Something he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time was seeping into his soul. He looked to Autumn, sickened at what had happened to her at the hand of Riley Wimber. His stomach churned with nausea, and a deep, painful guilt at not having been nearby to protect her made him want to vomit. But he looked at Gentry James too—studied the young cowboy who had dashed out careless of his health—or his attire, for that matter—to champion and protect Autumn.
A vision began to form in his mind, and a whisper began to echo in his ears. Oh, he’d seen how taken Autumn was with the wounded cowboy convalescing at Doc Sullivan’s place. He and Vaden were too aware of anything and everything about their children not to have noticed it. Still, Gentry James was a cowboy, and Ransom and Vaden both knew cowboys were very often drifters who didn’t stay in one place all too long.
But now—now the vision had formed in his mind. The whispering was still echoing in his ears—and Ransom Lake had learned long ago not to ignore his own soul.
Thus, he asked, “Doc? Is he gonna be all right after this?”
“He’ll be fine,” Doc Sullivan said. “I’ll put some new stitches in and clean him up
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