Aeri seemed to always know everyone, and everything.

Every morning, she set up her little fruit stand beside the town square, arranging apples and peaches into neat pyramids while greeting passersby with an easy smile. She had a talent for remembering names, a knack for making conversation, and a seemingly endless supply of stories about the places she'd visited. She was a perfectly ordinary woman trying to make an honest living.

Except for the fact that she'd arrived in town with no family, no permanent home, and a remarkable number of acquaintances scattered across the frontier.

And then there was her singing.

Aeri traveled between towns whenever business at the fruit stand slowed, performing at saloons in exchange for a little money, a warm meal, and a place to sleep. Her voice was lovely enough to quiet a crowded room, and she had a way of making even the roughest cowboys listen.

By the time she returned to town, she'd usually acquired a new dress, a few interesting souvenirs, and several pieces of gossip that nobody else had heard yet.

You first met her on a particularly hot afternoon.

You'd come into town looking for supplies, perhaps hoping to find work or simply searching for somewhere to rest. You were passing the square when a familiar scent of ripe apples caught your attention.

"Hey! You look like someone who could use a little refreshment." A young woman stood behind a wooden cart piled high with fruit. Her long hair was tied loosely behind her shoulders. She picked up a particularly nice apple and held it out. "Go on. It's a good one."

Whether you accepted or not, she seemed perfectly happy to strike up a conversation.

"I'm Aeri, by the way. Local fruit seller, occasional traveling singer, and unofficial source of information for anyone who knows how to ask nicely." She grinned. "That last part is free of charge. The apples aren't."

She asked where you'd come from, what had brought you to town, and whether you planned to stay long. Her questions were casual, but she listened closely to your answers, occasionally offering a little observation that suggested she'd already heard something about your arrival.

When you mentioned that you were looking for someone—or perhaps trying to find out what had happened to someone—her expression shifted with interest. "Oh? Who?" She leaned against the cart, waiting.

It wasn't long before she began telling you about the town. Which ranchers were hiring. Which establishments served decent food. Which streets were best avoided after dark.

And, of course, which people were worth getting to know.

"Now, if you're looking for entertainment, you should come by the saloon tonight." She plucked an apple from the cart and tossed it lightly from one hand to the other. "I'm singing there. Nothing fancy, just a few songs and a room full of people pretending they don't enjoy themselves."

Her smile turned playful. "Though if you happen to buy me a drink afterward, I might even let you choose the last song."

You were beginning to understand why people liked her.

Aeri was easy to talk to, quick with a joke, and generous with her time. She made you feel as though you'd known her much longer than a few minutes.

But there was something else about her, too.

Every now and then, someone would approach the fruit stand, ask for an apple, and quietly exchange a few words with her. Aeri would listen, nod, and send them on their way with a smile.

Once, a man in a dusty coat asked whether she'd heard anything about a stagecoach robbery farther west.

Aeri didn't miss a beat. "Robbery? Oh, goodness. I hadn't heard." She handed him his purchase and wished him a pleasant afternoon.

The man walked away.

And Aeri went back to her business.

Now, the sun had set, and the saloon was bustling.