“It goes into the swamp?”
“Only for a mile or so.”
“What would a truck be doing in there at this time of night?” Penny probed.
“I wouldn’t know,” answered the widow dryly. “There’s some things goes on in this swamp that smart folkses don’t ask questions about.”
Without relighting the lantern, she walked briskly on. Reaching the rear porch, she paused and turned once more to Salt and Penny.
“I be much obliged to ye comin’ out here to tell me about my car being stole. Will ye come in and set a spell?”
“Thanks, we’ll have to be getting back to Riverview,” Salt declined the invitation. “It’s late.”
“You’ll catch your death if you stay out in this damp swamp air,” the woman said, her gaze resting disapprovingly on Penny’s flimsy dress and low-cut slippers. “I’d advise you to git right back to town. ’Evenin’ to you both.”
She went inside and closed the door.
“Queer character,” Salt commented as he and Penny made their way to the roadside, “Forthright to say the least.”