The doorbell rang out, high and melodic, as Veronica entered the General Store, causing the few people inside to turn and nod in her direction. Adjusting the large basket on her arm, she breezed through, nodding her hellos to the women at the oak counters, being served by various members of the Sinclair family. At the back counter, she came upon another woman, leaning over the counter, squinting at the different drawers that lined the back wall. Each one had a name of the seeds it contained on the outside, along with a picture of the vegetable that would be produced. The woman at the counter frowned as she leaned over the glass top, tried to get closer to each image.

"Getting harder to see those pictures this year," she muttered. "Must be fading."

"And not your eyes going, Cindy?"

The woman scoffed and pulled back to an upright position, adjusting her bonnet on her head as she stared back at Veronica.

"My eyes are fine. You and I are the same age. If you can see, then I can see," Cindy huffed, crossing her arms.

While it was true that they were the same age, Veronica knew that her church friend was far more aged than her, having lost her husband some years ago and being forced to raise five children on her own. Cynthia MacKenzie was a slip of a woman with short dark hair and a sparkle of mischief always in her eyes, and Veronica couldn't get over that she was even able to grow any babies inside that tiny frame. She arrived in the town when Veronica was sixteen, and she was the same age but already heavy with her Scottish husband's seed, knowing only her French Quebequois tongue. Slowly, with babes in hand, she picked up English working with the women in the church who were more than happy to spread the word of the Lord to her. Veronica herself was fascinated with the young woman, sensing she had stories to tell, and she quickly set about offering to help with the new baby. When her chores around the homestead were done, she would take off for the MacKenzie farm to ease the burden on her new young friend and was rewarded with stories in broken English of Cindy's life on the other side of the country, before she met her husband and became a young bride.

"You know, my father wore glasses to read. Maybe next time you come for tea, you can try them…"

A throaty chuckle rose from her friend, and she shook her slender finger at Veronica. "I'm not taking your charity, my friend."

"It's not charity," Veronica snipped. "You have five strapping boys working that farm—you don't have to pay any hired hands. I know you could buy glasses if you weren't too pig-headed to ride to the next town to see the optometrist. This is an offer of something that was my father's to you."

Clicking her tongue in her mouth, Cindy folded her arms across her wool coat and smiled, deep lines forming in her skin.

"A gift from a friend then."

"Yes!" Veronica exclaimed. "And that way, I don't have to read to you all the seeds on the wall."

"Well, if any of the Sinclairs would get things together and replace those old pictures…"

Pointing towards one of the drawers, Veronica grinned. "The red circle is for tomato seeds."

"Ehhh…now you're being a brat."

Giggling, Veronica covered her mouth, trying to suppress a louder laugh as Mrs. Sinclair—the old matriarch of the family—came closer, frowning at them both, her lips pressed to a tight line.

"How may I help you?" she asked, stopping in front of Veronica, her eyes never reaching Cindy's.

Taking a deep breath to keep herself in check, Veronica removed her gloves, dropping them in her basket. "Mrs. MacKenzie and I are here for some seeds to start our gardens."

"Too early for that," Mrs. Sinclair snapped. "Ground's still hard."

"Yes, well, last year, there seemed to be a problem with the number of seeds available, so this year, I plan on being the early bird getting the seed—" Glancing at Cindy, Veronica smiled. "Don't you agree, Mrs. MacKenzie?"

"Yes, Miss Mars. I agree," Cindy concurred, keeping her expression neutral, but a twinkle of glee appeared in her eye.

"That was hardly our fault…" Mrs. Sinclair snipped back, clutching her chest over the bib of her white apron. "The mail delivery is unpredictable all the way out here, and you know as much, Mrs. Kane."

Veronica pushed her shoulders back at the sound of her married name being spoken. The Sinclair family still insisted on putting her bills to her married name, even when she tried to correct them, and it vexed her to no end. "Be that as it may—I would like to be the first in line and have many instead of the last and have none."

Mrs. Sinclair opened her mouth as if to launch a rebuttal, but instead looked between the women and closed it, pressing her lips so hard that a multitude of little lines darted through her skin surrounding her mouth. With a slight nod, she turned her back, focusing on the wall of drawers.

"And which ones would you like today, Mrs. Kane?"

"Mrs. MacKenzie and I will both start with tomatoes, please." She cooed in her sweetest voice, catching Cindy's eye. "One package for each of us. And then one each of the carrots, beets, turnips, and zucchini."

Mrs. Sinclair mumbled something but did not turn around. Veronica's mother once remarked that Mrs. Sinclair was never one to follow the Christian value of "love thy neighbour," preferring instead to try and wield what little power she held in life to choose who was the recipient of the best wares in their store. Her eldest daughter, Madison, inherited her disdain, and even though one was Veronica's age, were never what she would call friendly with her, choosing instead to cluck behind her back at her poor choice of husband, even when Veronica knew she had her eyes on Duncan once upon a time.

Spreading the brown packages of seeds along with the countertop, Mrs. Sinclair huffed. "Is that all for today?"

Pulling a list from her basket, Veronica shook her head. "I have a new hired hand who suddenly appeared on my doorstep a week early, and I have to gather some things for my pantry to feed one more soul. Another sack of flour and one of sugar, if you please. I'm also getting low on yeast, so one more brick should do, and a sack of potatoes. Please. And thank you, Mrs. Sinclair."

The woman pursed her lips to a tight line and nodded. "I'll have my husband load them into your wagon while I record your purchases in the ledger." Narrowing her gaze, she looked Cindy over before walking away.

"Tabarnak," Cindy muttered when she was out of ear-shot. "What about my purchases?"

Veronica settled her hand on Cindy's and sighed. "I'm sorry, my friend. I'm sure she'll return to you, eventually."

"I'm the only other one here! She'd better, or I'm sending my eldest boy, Benoit, to offer to marry her youngest daughter, Lauren. That'll scare her so badly she'll have a heart attack."

Giggling, Veronica leaned over and kissed her friend's cheeks—one on each side. "Her family would be lucky to have such a strong, loving man marry their daughter. Don't let them get him."

"You have a point." Taking her hand, Cindy smiled. "Come for tea after church this week, and we'll chat? You were absent last week and the week before. Pastor O'Dell was talking about calling on you soon."

Veronica cringed at the thought of Pastor O'Dell trapping her in her home to expound on her need for their Lord and saviour. At least at church, the time was finite. At home, he could come before lunch and stay well past dinner.

"I'm so sorry, my friend. I seem to have abandoned you and the Lord as of late."

"God will wait. I am much less patient. But I'm sorry for you. You missed the news that the Fennell family is expanding again. At this rate, Jacqueline will have as many children as me."

"Oh, that's wonderful news! I'll have to call on her this week and give her my good wishes in person."

"Well, Wallace was talking about the fact that no one would help him with some new fencing on the property. Apparently, Christian charity does not extend to people of another colour, once again. I told him I would send two of my boys to help."

"Terrible. They're such a nice family. I'll bring my new hired hand around to meet him when I visit Jacqueline. Maybe we can be of assistance too."

Everyone in the area knew the story of the Fennell family. Husband and wife had been born into slavery in the American south and, when they were freed, found not only each other but a way out of their country—moving up to Canada. Wallace found work on the Bar U Ranch before settling down with his own farmland. They were kind folks, and while Duncan had reservations about their intentions in the area, solely based on the colour of their skin, Veronica fell into an easy friendship with Jacqueline. It was Wallace who offered her their last motherless calf—as Jacqueline had just given birth and could only care for one helpless infant, let alone a helpless animal as well. The prejudice the family encountered always made Veronica's heart twist with anger, as her mother and father always preached to her that God's love extended to everyone. She would never admit it out loud, but Pastor O'Dell still insisting they sit at the back of the church was one of the other reasons she didn't like coming to church anymore. The hypocrisy was almost too much for her to stomach.

"I'm sure they would appreciate it." Cindy stepped closer and arched her eyebrow at her friend, grinning. "But tell me the truth. Have you been avoiding church because of a certain Polish baker?"

Wrinkling her nose, Veronica nodded, feeling the heat of embarrassment on her cheeks.

Stosh Piznarski was relentless in his pursuit of her. At first, she thought the good-natured man just wanted to be her friend. He was unmarried—his time devoted to the family bakery and care for his sickly mother—and she assumed he was courting someone. She realized she'd assumed wrong when he showed up on her doorstep, on a warm winter day, with a basket of fresh kolaczki. Her stomach allowed him in—seduced by the scent of fresh, fried pastry and strawberry jam—and while the afternoon was pleasant enough, she planned to keep her promise to herself never to marry again. Ever. Unfortunately, Mr. Piznarski seemed to have other plans.

Cindy chuckled and shook her head. "Why don't I come by, and we can ride in together. And then you can and sit with me and the boys. If Mr. Piznarski approaches, you can tell him that you're coming to tea with me after, and he'll leave you alone. Then you can tell me more about this new hired man you have. Tell me if he's fit for many jobs."

A high laugh rose in Veronica's throat, catching the subtle teasing, but choosing to ignore it. "Well, then it's a date. I'll see you then on Sunday."

"Très formidable. I will see you soon."

Veronica made her way towards the door with a quick wink, spying Mr. Sinclair loading her wagon through the window.

She tossed a curt nod to Mrs. Sinclair as she exited, pulling her coat closed against the chill of the day. Although the day was still young, there was still so much to do. Her mind flashed to the thought of Mr. Echolls, and she frowned, wondering what assessments he would be making about the ranch today. Running through her list of chores, she promptly pushed several aside in exchange for a new priority—going home, getting changed, and riding out to find the herd.

For a moment, a flash of his grin as he tipped his hat to her tickled her brain, and heat rose in her cheeks. Giving her head a shake, she walked past Mr. Sinclair, taking the reins of the buggy from the hitch before hoisting herself up to the seat.

"All done, Mrs. Kane," he grunted and tipped his hat to her as he stepped away from the load.

"Thank you," she murmured and nodded to him. "Good day, Mr. Sinclair."

Turning her focus back on the horses, she took a deep breath and pushed the image of Mr. Echolls out of her mind, for now.