Melinda Cohen
A trading post was always busy in the Old World. People would travel for days to trade goods, shop for supplies, or even pick up mail. Every post had a trade store, where farmers, loggers, smiths, herbalists, and artisans would deliver their wares and replenish their supplies. These were places that never truly closed, for there was always someone coming in to trade or shop.
One of those individuals pulled up in a covered wagon to the loading bay behind the store. The warehouse workers were familiar with the woman, but there was heartache in the men’s eyes at the look of her. Her honey-brown eyes blinked sluggishly as she tied her horse to the long metal rod running along the loading area. Combing her long chestnut locks back, she took a deep breath in time to notice one of the staff approach her.
“Good to see you, Mel,” the man greeted her with a smile. “Looks like the homestead’s still going strong from the look of your wagon.”
“We aren’t the most fertile land in these parts for nothing, Clay,” Mel sighed tiredly. “Brought the typical lumber and produce, so I’ll just load up my usual.”
“Of course,” he acknowledged with a nod. “You sure you don’t need any help these days? Just this must have taken a lot out of you.”
“I’ve been tending that land since I could walk,” she laughed at the concern, but her energy was drained. Waving a hand before retrieving some hay and feed by the bay, she added, “I’ll let you know when I need help.”
“Mel...” Clay dropped the forced cheer for a serious question. “How are you doing? Really?”
The woman leaned over a wooden bucket, filling it with water from a well tap. Her eyes closed to center herself before answering. Once the bucket was full, she took another breath before standing upright again.
“I’m ready to move on with my life, Clay. That’s all I have to say anymore. Life doesn’t stop when someone else does.”
“I get it.” The storekeeper relinquished the line of discussion as he dropped his face, but he glanced up hopefully at her. “We’re just worried for you, being the last, original family-owned vendor that comes through.”
“What do you mean?” Mel turned away from her horse with concern. “What about Carol Delaney?”
Clay shook his head with a heavy sigh. Mel gawped at the silence. She had been distant from her neighbors as of late, but it finally occurred to her how little she had spoken to her closest friend. A chill ran up her spine at the thoughts rising in her mind.
“Shortly after...” He paused to move away from the topic. “... you took some time away, Carol missed her usual delivery day. We haven’t heard from her at all, and when we sent someone to check on her, the house looked like she left in the middle of cooking... a while ago.”
“Excuse me?” A tall man with copper red hair called from the side of the trade store. Waving innocently, the two blinked back at him awkwardly. “I’m here about the book collection. The young lady at the counter said I could find the manager out back.”
“Oh, I remember your letter!” Clay cried with surprise, recalling he still had work to do. “We can catch up in a bit. I’ll come to see you before you head out.”
Mel couldn’t muster any words before he walked back with the customer. Sitting on a crate next to her horse, nibbling at some hay, the woman rubbed her upper arms for warmth. Not that it was chilly or anything. The foreboding sense left her feeling cold. She tried to think back on the last time she’d spoken to her friend. The woman had invited her over for a break from home. Had she mentioned anything to her back then?
The only thing she recalled was some harassment about marrying into a regional clan, the Moreno. They had bought up a lot of land from the family farms over the years. Many girls she grew up with had gotten hitched with shady men from the group, and Carol mentioned none of them were in a good place. What more could they do though? When times got too hard to manage, it wasn’t unheard of to sell. Carol and Mel would have been the only women landowners in the area, but the others had always had a cordial relationship with them.
The Morenos didn’t care about the community though. They weren’t even originally from their part of the Old World. Mel had heard rumors as a child about the old church fire being connected to their arrival, but no one could prove it. Without the church though, the Vatican had no means to communicate with them. Oddly enough, there was never a new parish built, which was unheard of for a trading post as large as theirs. Could they have done something to Carol?
“You all right, Melinda?”
Mel flinched to hear her full name. Looking up, she saw an older warehouse worker standing by her wagon. His warm brown visage frowned at her reaction, but she managed to shake the anxiety away from her face.
“Just tired, Mitch,” she answered before standing. “Been a long couple of months.”
“Yeah, I know,” the man agreed solemnly. “We’re about done loading you up. Did you want to wait for Clay inside? We can watch this old boy for you.”
“Naw, I think I want to try getting back to the house tonight.”
“Want one of us to ride out with you?”
“Why would you do that? It’s out of the way, even if you did stay the night.”
“There’s been some shady business from the Morenos around the trading post,” Mitch lowered his already deep voice, making Mel pause. “Most of the time they’re closed-lipped, but when the booze starts flowing at the tavern, some of their boys slip some nasty talk. Like how they’re cornering the men of the homesteads these days now and joking about wildfires.”
“I’ll be fine, but thank you for telling me,” Mel reassured the man. “Seems I’ve gotten out of touch as of late. I appreciate you keeping me informed.”
“If you insist,” Mitch folded with a worried sigh, “be careful out there, Mel. Your papa was always good to us back here. I’d hope we’ve done right by you. Clay’s especially worried about those punks since Carol went missing. Seeing you today was like an answered prayer. Take care out there.”
“See you all next time,” Mel hummed, grateful for the warmth of her community. It was just what she needed with all the unnerving events going on these days. As Mitch headed back toward the warehouse, she started prepping her horse for the journey home. Since she had let the draft horse breathe for a bit, she knelt to pick up the harness.
Being a woman of reasonable Human height, Mel was around one-hundred and seventy-five centimeters. Even with her strong build, a horse with shoulders at her eye level was not easy to hitch. Unfortunately, she was a stubborn lass who hated asking for help, which made the appearance of an old, beat-up Volkswagon Beetle perfect. The customer that pulled Clay away exited the driver’s side to see Mel jumping to throw the straps over her horse’s back.
“Need a hand?”
“I’m fine!” Mel yelped mid-jump without looking over her shoulder.
“I guess there aren’t any step stools in the bay area,” he continued as he closed his door from where he’d backed up closer to the dock. His long legs crossed the distance to the wagon.
“Look! I don’t need you guys to pamper me-” Mel finally shut up when she swung her head around to glare. The man smiled down at her from his two-hundred-centimeter height with the kindest sapphire gaze. In a small voice, she continued softly, “Sorry. I thought you were one of the store workers.”
“May I?” The man motioned a hand toward the harness, unfazed by her moody behavior.
“If you promise not to tell everyone I’m hopeless, sure,” she huffed shyly, offering the leather harness to him.
The tall, lanky man pleasantly surprised her when he took the other half of the harness, letting her hold onto the rest. Nodding toward the horse, he helped her lift the harness into position. She hadn’t expected him to actually assist her, since all too often these days men tried to take care of things for her.
“It’s funny,” the man commented as he reached to stroke the horse’s neck. “I haven’t seen a woman work with a horse since I was a boy.”
“Well, I normally wouldn’t need the help,” Mel grumbled as she worked with the straps. “I can handle my business just fine... usually.”
“Ah, I meant no disrespect! I was just reminded of my mom. She was great with animals, so I picked up a thing or two from her. You kind of looked like her when I saw you just now. Guess I got a bit nostalgic.”
“Oh...” Mel fell silent, unsure how to respond. Was he praising her or something? His mom sounded either impressive or clumsy if he was comparing them to each other. “Um... Thank you for helping me. I’m kind of tired, so this isn’t my best.”
“We all have days,” he assured her before heading back toward the warehouse. “Good or bad is irrelevant. It’s all how we react to things, and you seem to be taking on every challenge life throws at you. Keep your head up. I think you’re doing just fine.”
Watching him walk away, Mel felt warmth in her chest. Just like when Clay and Mitch had reassured her, this man encouraged her to keep fighting, even when it made sense not to. The last few months had been such a struggle, but she refused to fold. The kindness of others meant more than she realized.
“This a fine wagon for grocery shopping,” a sly voice cooed from behind her horse. Whipping her brown-haired head around, a man in a duster hat had green eyes peered down on her from a dirty, caramel visage. “Did you travel far?”
“I don’t have time to chat,” Mel stated flatly as she pulled the reigns away from him.
“Sorry, that must have sounded odd from a stranger,” he chuckled a bit as he took another step closer to her. “That’s the thing about trading posts. Everyone’s a stranger till you introduce yourself, right?”
“I said I don’t have time to waste with you,” she grunted. “Take the hint and cut your losses, cowboy.”
“Ah, I bet you’re Miss Cohen,” came a second male voice behind her. Jerking away from the fellow with oily hair with a pasty face to match, Mel ground her teeth to hold in a yelp. “You’re pretty famous around here for being a logger all by yourself.”
“Get out of my way,” she hissed as her instincts triggered her to get out of there. She tried to reach for the front of the wagon, but the newcomer grabbed her by the wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he mused in a coy tone. “We just wanted to make polite conversation with a pretty lady. How about we grab a drink at the tavern?”
“Do you have wax built up in your ears?” Mel barked as she tried to yank herself loose. “I have no desire for male company!”
“Why you have to be so mean-spirited about it?” The flirty guy acted hurt as the other walked around her horse to climb up in the wagon. “Nothing wrong with trying to have a conversation, is there?”
“I love how spicy the women are in these parts,” the man in the hat snickered under his breath as he got comfortable on the seat.
“What does that mean?” She snapped up at him.
“Don’t go talking out of your ass again, Kev.
“What?” Kev shrugs from above them. “She seems more reasonable than the redhead.”
A switch flipped in Mel’s mind at the description. Carol was renowned for her rose-red locks. Were these guys from the Moreno clan?
"What have you done with Carol?" The woman snarled with rage as she tried to swipe at the cocky thug in her wagon. The man holding onto her didn’t speak, but he did roll his eyes that Kev had not heeded his advice.
“You knew that spit-fire?” Kev asked with fascination. “Were you two pillow friends or something?”
“Quit your yammering and tell me where Carol is, you piss poor pug!”
“What’d you call me, pussy licker?”
“Ah, Christ...” The man holding Mel back nodded toward some men on the other side of the wagon to help. While the weary woman put up a hell of a fight, there was no need to make trouble so publically. They needed to get her quiet down, which he hoped the numbers would still her temper.
Instead of just waiting for orders though, someone cut the leather strap holding the harness. Mel and the man both looked at the useless straps in dismay. When he looked up at them for an explanation, Mel reacted on primal instinct, kicking the wooden hitch with her work boot.
“Run, Percy!” She screamed at her horse as she stomped at the hitch a few times. “Get on home, boy!”
In response to her tone, the stock horse reared back his hind legs, kicking as he whinnied loudly. The gathered men backed off as the large furry hooves whirled around. With one good jerk, the rest of the harness broke loose, allowing the horse to flee. The neighs grabbed the store workers’ attention though.
“Hey!” Clay barked from the bay ledge where several other men were already jumped down. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Back off, Charming,” the man holding onto Mel said flatly as he drew a revolver from behind his back. The others did so as well, making everyone pause. “No one needs a hero.”
Mel blinked at the gun raised in front of her nose. There was little doubt these men were part of the Moreno clan. Hostel threats won them their place in the Old World. She had no doubt they had done something to Carol Delaney, but she couldn’t pick a fight here. How could she get out of this? Suddenly, a loud honk of a horn interrupted her racing thoughts, followed by a quick acceleration from the Volkswagon.
“What’s that fool thinking?” The man slacked his grip on Mel’s wrist as he gawped at the fast-approaching car. “He trying to kill us with that thing?”
“Maybe,” Mel chuckled as she yanked free to run toward the warehouse.
The Moreno gang leaped in different directions as the Volkswagon swerved to scatter them. When the car paused, Mel looked over her shoulder to see the passenger door forced open by one of his long arms. The urgent yet humbled expression on his face made her flush.
“Get in!”
Before her heart got another beat in, the woman rushed for the open door. She didn’t care for any of the voices calling to her. Diving into the open seat, Mel planted her legs on the seat, clinging to the back of the fuzzy, old chair. The driver sped off down the dirt road behind the store, closing the door for her.
“What were you thinking?” Mel cried, trying not to sound as frightened of the ride as she felt. Gripping the back of the seat, she glanced at the man from the corner of her right eye. His sunkissed cheeks were flushed as his dark blue eyes darted all over the road. “Are you crazy or something?”
“Truthfully,” he confessed with a shaky breath, glancing up at the rearview mirror, “I really don’t know yet, but when I saw the warehouse workers tried to help, I’d just gotten my car started. So...” He shrugged as he paused. “... I honked and just gunned the engine, hoping to catch them off guard.”
“You go around gunning engines often?” Mel asked with an amused grin.
“Ahahaha! Not at all!”
The two had a good laugh as they left the trading post behind them. The tension flew out with the exhaust. Normally, Mel was skeptical of men, but the man’s smile was contagious. She finally turned to face him, but her boots remained tucked under her on the seat.
“Sorry to ask this, but,” she combed a hand through her long locks, “could you take me back to my homestead in this thing? I doubt it’s smart to go back for my busted wagon right now. They’ll probably have someone bringing it by tomorrow as much as Clay’s spoiling me these days. Percy’s probably halfway home by now without the hitch.”
“Sure,” he answered quickly with a wide grin, “if you point out the way, that is.” He turned his head to face her for a quick moment. “My name’s Nic.”
“Call me Mel.”
“Oh my...” Nic cheered as the vehicle cleared the lush oak trees to take in Mel’s home, “You have a beautiful ranch house!”
“Uh... thanks?” She muttered through her pursed lips awkwardly. “What is that exactly?”
“Oh, well,” the man glanced to his right quickly, “it’s an architectural style of one-story, long-stretching home. They were actually first designed in this part of the Old World as ideal family residences, but I see the homestead influence here was meant to host a large family.”
“You really do read a lot of books,” Mel chuckled at the answer. Nic had spent most of the drive telling her about things she’d never held of, but he was so passionately charming that she felt drawn into the topics. “Where’d you learn all of this stuff?”
“Mom raised us to be curious,” Nic began as he parked the Volkswagen on the dirt lot in front of the house. “She said there was so much to take in about the world, old and new. The planet has never been like this before, so we should chase whatever mysteries called us.”
“Mysteries...” She mused over the word before looking for how to open the car door. “Thanks for the ride, but it’s awfully late. Let me make you some supper. You can stay the night if you’d like. I have plenty of room.”
“I wouldn’t want to trouble you,” Nic objected with worry, watching her push and pull different parts of the door, “especially when you left your groceries back at the trading post.”
“Those were just to restock supplies,” Mel sassed victoriously when she finally unlatched her door. Turning to look up at him before getting out of the car, she added smugly, “The land takes care of me well.”
“Well, then, thank you. It’ll be great to not have to curl up in the backseat tonight,” he confessed, opening his door to exit.
“You sleep in that thing?” Mel blurted out in disbelief, pausing to look back. When he laughed guiltily, she shook her head in wonder at how he could fit.
Closing the driver-side door, Nic paused as a distant voice brushed his ear. Turning to look at the trees directly around the house, he tried to make out the sorrowful caller over the breeze.
“Coming, Nic?” The woman asked as she looked back with a lit oil lamp.
“Yeah,” he answered quickly. He couldn’t see anyone, so he hurried to follow her inside.
Mel shook her head, amused by the strange man, as she lit another lamp. He reminded her of a child constantly seeing something new. It was refreshing to meet a man her age that didn’t push flirty conversations. Nic actually could talk to her like a person, not a potential bride.
As she walked toward the kitchen, Nic’s wide eyes took in the open floor plan. There was a stone hearth fireplace to his left with a couch, a love seat, and a few upholstered chairs facing it. To his right, bookshelves of old books and framed photos. He walked over, leaning forward to take in the Cohen clan with wild fascination. So many faces. So much love radiated from behind the glass. Mel noticed his tall frame bending down to take in every detail. She couldn’t hold back the prideful smile of her family.
“Is it just you here?” He asked curiously. “You said you had plenty of room, so is your family away?”
Her smile died, and the tired visage returned after the hours she’d spent with him this afternoon. Walking to the garden window above the sink, her eyes fell to the lot out back. Her honey-brown gaze looked back from her reflection in the lamp light, drained to void pools.
“Now.” Nic glanced her way as he stood upright. Her voice was hollow, stunning him. “My papa passed a few weeks back. It was just us the last few years, so the land’s mine now.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Nic’s empathetic voice drew her attention back his way. His honest sapphire gaze told her that he understood, regretting he asked.
“Thanks, but I’m really tired of the sorries at this point. You can’t dwell on things you can’t hold onto, right?”
“That makes sense,” he admitted, but his voice told her that he didn’t agree. Putting on a brave face, he tried to lift the atmosphere. “Care to talk about the homestead instead? I love hearing about people’s histories.”
“Sure,” Mel answered with a relieved smile. She started grabbing pots and mixing bowls to start cooking. “Papa told me that after the big war our family was started when they were chosen to come to the Old World. The Graeco commissioned the Vatican to pick farmers and other agriculturists to pair off with scientists to heal dangerously contaminated land with some kind of serum. The State funded the resources as part of the relief efforts. They even helped build new churches and sanctuaries for new settlers that came after. It took over a century, but the land came back, growing new forests and crops. We’ve continued to protect the land we nurtured, and it takes care of us in return the way it was always intended to.”
“I’ve never heard about this commission before,” Nic mused, leaning on the back of the love seat. “Would you mind if I interviewed you for my journal?”
“What’s an interview?”
“It’s when you document someone’s experience for posterity in their own words. Part of what I do besides gathering books for my library is interview people with undocumented knowledge of our history. I want to use it when I open my school back where I live.”
“A school?” Mel chimed up before disappearing into the deep pantry down the left hallway. Calling from the dim room, she added, “I haven’t seen a school since our church burned down when I was a kid. Papa and Momma taught me everything I know.”
“You were homeschooled, too?” Nic cried with excitement at the similarity. “My mom did the same for us, but I always dreamed of a place where people could learn for the sake of it. It wouldn’t matter who you were. You just had to have a hunger to learn something! We could all grow from sharing!”
Mel walked out of the pantry with arms filled with jars and dried meat. She paused at the threshold to take in his energy. How did he draw her in with that passion? For a moment, she thought she could see colors glowing off of him, but she blinked them away, thinking she must be tired.
“I’d love to hear more, but I should get supper going. Make yourself at home.” She nudged her head beyond him to a hallway across the room. “The spare rooms are to the left down there. If you need a bath, there’s a linen closet next to the bathroom. The door should be open to find it.”
“Right,” Nic muttered, embarrassed at his zeal to share. “Thank you again for welcoming me into your home. I’ll go grab my suitcase out of the Bug.”
Walking outside, Nic furrowed his brow as his face flushed. Why was he getting so worked up? Sure, they had some stuff in common, but she was the hands-on kind of person. All his dreamer talk was probably overwhelming her. Swiping his right hand down his face, he puttered his lips to refresh his thoughts as he opened the hatch.
He looked up suspiciously, hearing the voice again. Who were they calling? It didn’t sound like a name, but more of a plea to be heard. His empathic soul couldn’t ignore it anymore. Knowing his hostess would be tied up with cooking for a bit, he closed the hatch again to investigate.
“Hello?” He called into the trees, looking around as the voice grew in strength. “Is someone there? I hear you calling.”
A sudden yelp drew his attention to a trunk on his left. His sapphire orbs watched a dryad fall out, startled by his voice. Landing on her rump, green with yellow streaked orbs looked up at him cautiously. Her earthy-tone hair looked similar to dreadlocks growing out of her scalp that softened to wavy strands down her sides and back, away from her face. Rather than cloth, layered bark grew in a short skirt around her waist and upper thighs with a cut-off tank-styled top, covering her modest chest. After a few beats of staring at one another, the nymph leaned her head toward him.
“Can you see me?”
