“We need it,” Judy said. “The ground is too dry. Maybe it’s just dust that makes the sky look pink.”
“Pink!” exclaimed Honey. “It looks green in the other direction, and I don’t like it. There’s something unnatural about the weather lately. Haven’t you noticed it yourself?”
“I haven’t thought much about it,” replied Judy.
She could tell Honey was chattering because she was nervous, and said no more. The three men were now exploring the grove, spreading out in all directions.
“That a barn over there?” one man inquired.
Before Judy could answer, another of the men, who had a white scar across his cheek, said, “Anything in it?”
“Just a saddle horse and one cow,” Judy began. “We like fresh milk.”
A stout man, the shortest of the three, chuckled.
“Your dad ain’t much of a farmer, is he?”
“My dad doesn’t live here,” Judy said. “There’s just my husband and myself—”