“I suppose you have to look after your younger brothers and sister,” Celeste said.
“Sometimes, but I don't mind.”
“I wish I had brothers and sisters. My mom died trying to have my baby brother. I was fourteen. Since then, it's just been me and my dad.”
“I'm sorry,” Laurel said.
“It's all right, I guess. Dad and I are buddies.” Celeste reached into a candy jar and took out five pieces of peppermint. She wrapped them in wax paper and placed them beside the sugar. “These are for your brothers and sister.”
“Thanks.”
While Celeste filled Robert's order, Laurel wandered through the store, which stocked a little bit of everything—sewing supplies, kitchen utensils and dishes, fishing gear, rifles and shells, and a myriad of other items. Celeste seemed to be taking a long time with Robert. Clearly she was interested in him. He seemed oblivious.
When Robert headed for the door, he had only one large box in his arms. He stopped and smiled at Laurel. “I'll probably see you later.”
“Probably,” Laurel said.
He pushed against the door and stepped outside.
Celeste waited on two more customers, then an older woman walked in. She nodded and smiled at Laurel. Tying on an apron, she took her place behind the counter.
Celeste joined Laurel. “I'm free. You ready?”
“Uh-huh.”
“There's a wagon out back. I'll get it, and we can load your groceries.” She disappeared through a door in the back of the building and reappeared a few moments later pulling a rusted wagon.
After loading the food, the two young women headed out the door with Celeste hauling the supplies. Laurel walked beside her. “Thanks for helping. I guess I'm just empty-headed these days. I didn't even think about how I was going to get this stuff home.”
“I could use a walk after working inside all day.” She glanced at Laurel. “And I'd like to get to know you.”
“You're very direct,” Laurel said.
“I am, but I figure you ought to say what you mean and mean what you say. Anyway, I'm glad you came into the store. There aren't very many people my age around this place, well, that is, before you colonists got here.” The wagon bounced over a rut, and Celeste glanced back to make sure none of the groceries had spilled out. “Course, as you noticed, my father feels differently.”
“He did look angry.”
“He doesn't hide his feelings. He and I are alike that way.” Celeste was quiet a moment, then asked, “So, you and Robert aren't a couple?”
“No. He's just a friend I met on the train. His property borders ours.”
“He's awfully cute.”
“He is. Do you live on a farm?” Laurel asked, changing the subject.
“No. My father's more of the mountain-man type. He hunts, fishes, and traps mostly. He's a hunting guide, so he knows his way around these mountains.”
“Isn't it dangerous work?”
“Yeah. But he's been doing it so long I don't worry about him. He's good.” Celeste stepped around a puddle. “We've got a small garden and some chickens and a cow. That's about it.”
“Why is your father so angry about the colonists?”
“He and my mom homesteaded our place long before I was born. They built our cabin, put in a garden, and made their way without any help. He figures the colonists are taking a handout from the government and will be a bad influence on the community.” She jumped over a puddle. “Don't take it personal.”
Laurel stepped over a sizable rock. How could she not take it personally?
“He and some of the others think it's unfair that the government's helping you. Most of the families here are real poor. They could use some help too.”
“Hard times are everywhere. Where we came from there's a drought, and farms are literally blowing away. Our farm is dead. When the government said they'd move us, we didn't have a choice. Coming here was the only way we could survive.”
As she explained, Laurel's hurt grew. She stopped and looked directly at Celeste. “We haven't done anything wrong. We did what we had to.”
“I believe you.” Celeste gazed at the mountains. “But you need to know that even though this valley looks beautiful, it's not an easy place to live. It takes courage and sacrifice, and a person's got to stick with it.”
“We know that. And we know how to stick with it.” Laurel could feel herself growing angry.
“I tried to tell my father that, but he and some of the other homesteaders are so sure you're—” Celeste stopped mid-sentence.
“They're sure of what?” Laurel asked. “What are they saying?”
Celeste glanced at the ground. “It doesn't matter.”
“Yes it does.” Laurel stared at Celeste.
The pretty blonde pursed her lips, then met Laurel's gaze. “They're saying you're welfare moochers, too lazy or too weak to homestead on your own.”
The injustice felt like a slap. “People are saying that?”
