“We’re almost there, city girl. At least you’re wearin’ real shoes today. New kicks?” Busted. “I bought them at Farm-Way.” Tired of trudging around farms in my sandals, I’d wandered into a sprawling store in the little town of Bradford. That’s where I’d found a pair of pink hiking shoes and some footie socks. “What did you think of that place? We go there all the time.” “I thought it was hysterical.” They sold shoes and clothes. And horse tack, chicken feed and wood fencing. “Where else can you buy a riding crop and local maple syrup? The place is like a Vermont BDSM supply shop.” Griff
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