here today, Thompson?” one of the men asked the storekeeper, his eyes fixed on Fallon.
“ How can I help ya fellows today?” Mr. Thompson nervously inquired.
“ Oh, we was wantin’ to take a look around and see what there is to have,” another replied, winking at her.
“ Well, there ya are, Mrs. Donavon. You be on yer way, and be sure and tell yer husband I said hey, now,” the storekeeper said, motioning for Fallon to leave.
“ Thank you, Mr. Thompson. I’ll tell Trader. Bye now,” she said nervously. She turned to step past the men. The most hideous-looking one, who was no doubt the leader for he had spoken first, stepped in front of her, blocking her escape.
“ Now, where’re ya rushin’ off to, sweet thing? Why don’t ya stay and keep us company awhile?” he said, taking a lock of Fallon’s hair between his fingers.
Fallon glared angrily at him and yanked the lock free. “I’m sorry, I’ve other things waiting.”
He brutally grabbed her arm. “Ya ain’t goin’ nowhere ’til I says so!” Fallon gasped as the man pulled a knife from a sheath at his belt, pointing it at her stomach. “And don’t ya be pullin’ no gun out from behind that counter, store-man. This knife is purty slick—it might slip.”
Mr. Thompson cleared his throat. “Believe me, sir—yer toyin’ with the wrong man’s wife,” he said. The heinous, villainous, foul-smelling man began to laugh. His breath was pure stench, and Fallon coughed in its wake.
“ Oh, is that so?” the degenerate snorted. Fallon struggled, but the man pushed the point of the knife firmly against her stomach. “Ya look just as sweet as candy, missy. I think I’ll have me a taste.” Grabbing a handful of her hair with his dirty free hand, he brutally yanked her head backward.
“ Don’t you dare touch me!” Fallon warned through clenched teeth.
The man only laughed before proceeding to run his repulsive tongue across her cheek, causing Fallon to gag. She cried out in anguish at the wet stench. But the villain repeated the gesture, and Fallon thought the contents of her stomach might find a way out of her throat. “I’ll kill you!” she cried.
The vulgar man chuckled, his wicked companions joining in. “Ya’ll kill me, will ya?” he sneered and bent with the intent of repeating the vile act a third time.
“ She won’t have to kill you—I’ll do it!”
Fallon began to sob with relief as she looked up and saw Trader’s figure towering in the doorframe behind the men. The man released his hold on her and turned to face Trader Donavon.
“ Who are ya? The danged Angel a Death?” The villain looked to his companions, who stood watching with triumphant grins.
“ In your case…yes,” Trader growled.
“ Well now, partner, I don’t know how ugly ya actually is under that hood, but I’m sure this little lady won’t mind keepin’ one more company if ya want.” Suddenly he lunged at Trader, wielding the knife he had held to Fallon a moment before. Fallon screamed as she saw blood appear at Trader’s trouser leg.
“ You’ll die for touching her,” Trader muttered calmly, taking a step forward. He seemed oblivious to the laceration now vivid across his thigh. The vile man motioned for Trader to come at him.
“ You’ll die, Death Angel, for interferin’,” he said as he spit tobacco to the floor.
“ Trader!” Fallon whispered in terror.
The criminal lunged again at Trader. Trader effortlessly caught his wrist, twisting his arm quickly and mercilessly until Fallon actually heard the distinct and unmistakable crack of breaking bone. The other three men looked on, their putrid mouths gaping open in shock.
Trader still held the man’s limp and broken arm as he turned to catch the fist of one of the other men as it swung toward Trader’s head. Trader applied the same pressure to this man’s arm as well. The cracking of a second bone seemed to echo through the store as he pushed both men to the floor.
“