“Oh, Trader!” she cried, panic rising in her anew. Using her skirt, she dabbed at the wound. It was bleeding excessively, and she pressed firmly on it with her small hands.
“It’s fine, Fallon,” Trader muttered, replacing his glove.
“It’s not!” she said, as she knelt to inspect it. The wound was perhaps seven inches in length and alarmingly deep. “Oh, Trader! What if Doctor Smithers isn’t in town?” Fallon could barely control the overwhelming sense of panic growing within her.
“He is. Here he comes now,” he answered calmly. Fallon stood up and called to the doctor.
“Hurry, hurry! He’s cut badly!” She looked down at her hands and dress, which were covered with blood. It wasn’t the sight of blood that weakened her but the fact that it was Trader’s blood on her hands and clothes. She looked up at him and whispered, “You could’ve been…” and then she felt his strong arms about her as everything went black.
CHAPTER SIX
A week passed. Since the incident at the store in town, Fallon had been unusually subdued. Her rides with Kelly lasted nearly all day at times. She found herself avoiding everyone, especially Trader. But one morning, a concerned Patty came into her room. Fallon was preparing to go riding again.
“Fallon, are you all right?” Patty asked.
“I’m fine, Patty. Why?” Fallon answered and smiled.
“You’ve seemed a bit distant these past few days. Be truthful with me, Fallon. What’s wrong?” Fallon walked to the window and folded her arms across her chest, trying to ease the aching within it.
“He could have been killed, Patty. I put him in danger. What would I have done if they had killed him? I would rather have died myself!” Patty put a comforting arm around her friend and wiped her tears.
“Oh, honey! Don’t talk like that. Nobody can kill my Trader. I, for one, am convinced of that. You love him very much, don’t you?” Fallon looked at her in surprise. Patty continued, “He’s easy to love, isn’t he? Although he does try to make it hard. And it’s not easy for him to return the emotion. He sees himself differently than we do.” Fallon wiped her tears on her sleeve and turned to leave.
“Well, I’m off for a ride,” she said, feigning cheerfulness.
Patty tipped her head to one side. “You all right?” she asked again.
“I’ll be fine. It’s just hard to love somebody who doesn’t love you back,” Fallon answered.
“I know,” Patty said. Then seeming to realize it was not wise to press Fallon further, Patty added, “Enjoy your ride.”
Fallon decided to ride to the pastures. Usually she rode into the foothills and gathered pinecones or wildflowers, but today she needed a change. So much change had overwhelmed her, yet further change seemed what her spirit longed for.
The pastures were lush and green, the cattle grazed contentedly, and Fallon thought of the ease of their life. As she approached the east property line, she could see two people in the distance. As she neared, she could see the two people were at ease, dismounted from two nearby horses and standing against the fence, obviously involved in easy conversation. The woman she recognized instantly, even at such a distance. The man had his back to Fallon, but she could see he had removed his shirt, most likely due to the heat of the day. Julia Salazares looked up and waved. Fallon waved in response, but her heart landed with a thud in the pit of her stomach as she realized who the woman’s companion was. Trader! He reached down and picked up the hood from its place on the ground, pulling it over his head, but not before Fallon glimpsed his long, dark brown hair. It was pulled together at the back of his neck and hung several inches below his shoulders. Conflicting emotions jumbled Fallon’s thoughts as she guided the horse toward them. Why was her husband in a secluded part of the fields with Julia Salazares and only half-dressed? She felt the hot sting of tears gathering in her eyes. Obviously, he was comfortable enough with Julia Salazares to remove his hood in her presence. Comfortable enough with her, but not with Fallon.
“Hello, Fallon!” Julia greeted as Fallon dismounted.
“Hello, Julia. It’s nice to finally meet you officially,” Fallon said, extending her hand to the Spanish beauty.
“I was just on my way over to see if you needed anything, Fallon. I heard about your frightful experience in town. I guess it’s fortunate that Trader happened to be in town as well.” Fallon looked quickly at Trader, who had returned to hammering the fence post. Julia looked at Trader and then back to Fallon. “Well, I guess I’ll be on my way. If you need something, Fallon, just let me know. Come over for a visit soon. You and I really should get to know each other a little better.” Julia flashed one of her dazzling smiles. Fallon felt hot anger rising in her ears at the sound of the woman’s melodic accent. It served only to enhance her already unusual beauty.
“Yes, we should, Julia,” Fallon said, forcing a smile.
“Well, we’ll talk later, Trader,” Julia said. She mounted her horse, waved goodbye, and rode off.
Fallon felt betrayed and thus turned her hurt and painful envy toward Trader. “Well, I guess you had quite a good laugh at my expense!”
“What?” he asked, seeming oblivious to the reason for Fallon’s strong emotions.
“Letting me ramble on about how you came to my rescue, so to speak. When in fact, it was an accident you happened to be there at all!”
“I followed you into town, Fallon. Ben told me you went alone, and I—”
“How humiliating! As if it weren’t bad enough. I can still feel that man licking my face,” she exclaimed, clawing at her face, her eyes filling with tears. “And now! Now I ride out here and find you naked in a field with our seductress of a neighbor! I should’ve known. I should’ve known she was your…held your interest. The day I married you I should’ve known it! At our wedding reception, you were falling all over each other. But at least you were properly dressed!”
“That’s enough, Fallon,” Trader said calmly. “Julia and I have been neighbors for many years and—”
“And lovers too? I’m so ignorant! No wonder you didn’t want me for your wife in…in every respect! You’ve no need of any…you’ve no need to…you’ve got everything you need already!” Trader reached out and took Fallon firmly by the shoulders.
“Stop it! Just stop it! I think that degenerate did more than lick your face in that store. You’ve been hysterical ever since. I am not Julia’s lover—although it is quite flattering you would even imagine it to be so.” Fallon was furious at his mocking and pushed at his chest, stepping back and out of his grasp.
“Those moments in the store were the most horrible I’ve ever known, Trader! Worse even than being beaten or starved! How can you mention it?” She turned and picked up the reins to her horse.
“I’m sorry, Fallon,” he said, catching her arm. “But you’ve been so solitary since it happened. And now, you’re accusing me of being some other woman’s lover! And you claw at your face all the time! It’s even bruised from it. You’ve washed it clean. For Pete’s sake, girl!” She looked up at him.
“I still feel it there, Trader. I still feel it!” She put her hand to her face. He angrily pushed it away.
“Then think of something else! Didn’t some little boy ever kiss your cheek? Think on that instead.” She looked down, embarrassed somehow that no boy had ever placed a sweet kiss there. Then she saw it, and her attention changed. She looked boldly at his bare chest, bronzed from working in the sun. A massive scar beginning at his right shoulder and traveling diagonally across his chest and stomach disappeared into his trousers above his left hip. Almost as a reflex, she reached out to touch it with her fingers. “Don’t,” he warned.
“Oh, Trader. Does it pain you still?” she asked in a whisper. Such a gruesome scar certainly would hurt forever. It had been a deep, nearly mortal wound from the ghastly look of it.
“More than you can fathom,” he said, turning back to his work. Fallon had covered her mouth, stifling the gasp wanting
to escape as she saw his back was scarred as well! Two massive scars, sickly pale against his bronzed skin crossed each other across his back. She could not help but reach out to touch it. It seemed so unreal! Surely it was not. Trader startled and spun around to face her once more. Catching her wrists in the vice-grip of his powerful hands, he growled, “Don’t touch me, Fallon!” Again her attention was fixed on the gruesome scar across his muscular, perfectly sculpted torso.
“Saber wounds. Aren’t they?” she whispered. He pushed her hands away, his chest rising and falling with his angered breathing. But Fallon could not silence herself, for the scars were somewhat familiar to her. “My daddy had similar ones. He received them in battle during the war.”
“Go home, Fallon,” he growled, returning his attention to his work. Fallon stood trembling, staring in disbelief at the terrible scars on his back. “Go home,” he repeated.
Fallon turned to mount Kelly but paused. Perhaps he would offer her no explanation for his wounds, for his distance. But she would offer him reason.
“I have nothing to remember, Trader. You may have many romantic conquests to think on when you need to, but I have nothing save a disgusting, stinking, vile man tasting me.”
Fallon brushed a tear from her cheek and put her foot in the stirrup to mount. However, Trader’s hand took hold of her arm, halting her. He turned her to face him and discarded his working gloves again. Reaching down and retrieving his shirt from the ground, he proceeded to tear it.
“What are you doing?” Fallon asked, puzzled.
Without uttering a response, he tore a strip from the fabric and placed it over Fallon’s eyes, tying it at the back of her head.
“Trader, what are you—” she began, but his bare hand caressing her cheek silenced the words in her throat. His touch, though forceful and masculine, was gentle and tantalizing, sending her unpleasant thoughts and memories of the cruel man from the store into oblivion.
As his hands caressed her cheeks, her neck, her forehead, he said, “Forget it, Fallon. Don’t think on it again.” She clutched his forearms to retain her balance as he took her shoulders and drew her closer to him. He stroked her cheek tenderly with his thumb. Then, as he held her face in his powerful hands, Fallon, for the first time, felt the softest caress of his lips as he kissed her cheek ever so lightly. Her knees weakened, buckled slightly, and she was humiliated when a small gasp escaped her lips. She wanted to throw herself into his embrace, to feel his warm, muscular form against her own, promising acceptance and safety. Instead her hands gripped his forearms tighter, afraid she might succumb to the desire to be held against him. His arms were solid as oak. She knew they would avert any harm that might threaten her in the future. He kissed her cheek, pressing his lips firmly against her flesh. Then he—or she herself, she didn’t know which—broke the barrier. Fallon fell against him and into his strong embrace. His mouth was hot and sweet, tinged with the flavor of peppermint when it hungrily seized her own. The feel of his mouth pressed to hers, taking hers, drinking of hers, rapt her in a divine sensation. She felt as though her very first life’s breath had filled her lungs, filling her body with some sort of heavenly nectar. Trader’s kiss was deliriously blissful! His embrace nearly crushed her, but she did not care. The feel of it washed her with blessed security and safety.
All at once, his mouth left hers, paused at her cheek a moment before he breathlessly murmured, “No,” pushing her away from him. “I shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have…” he stammered. Then seeming to regain his composure, he removed the blindfold he had fashioned from his shirt. Fallon looked up at him, gazed into the dark hood, her mouth still moist with his peppermint kiss. “Now…now put what face you will with that and think no more of the animal in the store.”
Trader had given her all that he could—all that he ever would. Somehow Fallon knew it was all he could give her, but it was more than she had ever dreamed. She was grateful. Painfully grateful. Deliriously grateful.
“Yes, Trader. Thank…thank you,” she whispered.
After mounting Kelly, Fallon looked back once as she rode off, in time to catch a glimpse of the long dark hair revealed when Trader again removed the hood. She raised her hands to her lips, lips still throbbing with the residual delight of his kiss. She swallowed hard, trying to regain her senses, but was only further distracted by the sweet flavor of peppermint in her mouth. She would never forget his kiss, the feel of his hands on her face, the sense of her body pressed to his. And she would forever long for all she could never have again. But as she rode on, wiping tears from her cheeks, Fallon Donavon smiled, for the moments in Trader Donavon’s arms, the taste of his kiss, everything else sacrificed, was worth those moments.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Yet Fallon became increasingly unhappy. As the days and weeks passed, the intimate moment she had shared with Trader at the fence repeated itself in her dreams, both waking and sleeping—all of which she thought she could cherish, all of which she thought would carry her through. But she had come to the realization she had fooled herself; she could never be happy being Trader’s wife in name only. She wanted him to love her as she loved him, just as deeply and as fiercely with the emotional and physical passion of true lovers.
Fallon tried to occupy herself helping Patty in the garden and kitchen. Patty was wonderful company, but each day Fallon could not wait until after supper. For each night after supper, Trader had taken to the habit of sitting in the parlor. Fallon could not resist following him, sitting in a chair across the room, and glancing at him when she thought he might not be aware of her. Often he talked with her, or she played the piano while he read. He seemed comfortable in her company. Yet he was ever guarded.
Fallon continued to ponder the severe scars on Trader’s body and convinced herself they were wounds sustained in the war. She never dared ask him. She wished with all her heart she could convince him that she did understand. Then somehow perhaps she could break the invisible barriers he had erected about himself. Then somehow perhaps he would accept her as a friend and confidant at least.
“Patty,” Fallon ventured one hot afternoon while the two women sat on the porch snapping beans. “Did Trader fight in the war?” She watched closely and noticed Patty’s hands faltered at her work.
“Why ever would you think that, Fallon?” Patty casually asked. Fallon took a deep breath and boldly continued.
“Those immense scars on his chest and back, they resemble the ones my own father received during the war from a Confederate saber.” Patty cleared her throat and shrugged her shoulders. Fallon continued. “Or maybe Trader battled over a woman. He is Southern, isn’t he, Patty?” Patty rested her hands in her bowl of beans and looked up. She had tears brimming in her eyes as she spoke.
“I’m to tell you absolutely nothing, Fallon. I swore it to him before I ever knew you.”
“I’ll never repeat anything, Patty. Please, it may help me to…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
Patty looked away. “He’d hate me ’til the day he died, probably send me away. I love it here, and I love all of you! In time, I believe you’ll weaken his defenses, Fallon. Be patient.” The rarely unhappy woman wiped her cheeks with her apron and went back to snapping beans. Fallon knew it was wrong to push her further and returned to her own bowl. “He did fight for the Confederacy, Fallon, even though he was loyal to the Union. I’ll tell you only that,” Patty whispered.
Again, Fallon’s mind went dashing into considerations. Perhaps he is in his forties or fifties, she thought. What if he is that old? My being only eighteen, he’ll die long before me! Panic suddenly gripped her. Her hands began to shake. The thoughts were terrifying! She quickly drew Patty into a light conversation, desperately attempting to distract herself from such unfathomably painful thoughts.
“These…these are the most delicious-looking beans I’ve ever seen, Patty,” she stammered.
“They’ll…they’ll be good for supper,” Patty said, nodding and forcing a smile.
That night, however, fear seized Fallon once more. Tears filled her eyes, running like tiny rivers down her cheeks. Trader could be as old as her father! And her father hadn’t lived to be fifty. It took hours of restless tossing and turning, hours of gut-snarling anxiety before Fallon fell asleep. When she woke the next morning, she was more miserable than she had been in a very long time.
Fallon saddled Kelly and rode to the field where she knew the hired hands were working on the fences. Trader was there overseeing the work. Again, he had removed his shirt but wore the hood. He must’ve seen her riding up and strode to meet her, greeting her with a nod of the hood as she dismounted.
“What brings you out here?” he asked. The tone of his voice led her to believe he was not displeased to see her.
She began wringing the reins she held tightly in her hands and hoped her voice wouldn’t falter. “Trader, I know I promised not to ask you any personal questions,” she began. As Trader drew in a deep and irritated breath, she charged ahead quickly, “But I just want to ask one thing, for my own peace of mind. I mean…how old are you?”
There was silence from within the hood. Fallon startled as Trader burst into entirely amused laughter. Fallon stood mesmerized. She had never heard him laugh. In the four months she had legally been his wife, she had never heard him laugh. It was a wonderful sound! It was a deep, mirthful laugh.
With a sigh and a hand to his chest, he asked, “Why in the world does it matter to you when we…well, why does it matter?”
She felt herself blush and began to lose her nerve. “Well, my father didn’t even live to see his fiftieth year, Trader. I lost him. If I were to lose you…” she broke off as her voice failed her.
“I see,” he said, immediately solemn again. “Well, no need to fear, Fallon. If something happens to me, I’ve willed you everything. You’ll never have need to want for anything.” His tone was harsh.
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