By daylight the woman appeared much younger than Penny had taken her to be the previous night. Not more than thirty-two, she wore a shapeless, faded blue dress which had seen many washings. Rather attractive brown hair had been drawn back into a tight, unbecoming knot that made her face seem grotesquely long.
“I don’t suppose you recognize me,” Penny began diffidently. “My father and I were here last night with Sheriff Daniels.”
“I remember you very well,” the woman retorted. “What do you want?”
“Why, I should like to buy some melons,” Penny replied, the idea only that instant occurring to her. “Have you any for sale?”
“Melons,” the woman repeated, and the hard line of her mouth relaxed. “I thought you came to pester me with questions. Sure, we’ve got some good Heart o’ Gold out in the patch. How many do you want?”
“About three, I guess.”
“You can pick ’em out yourself if you want to,” Mrs. Davis offered. Setting down the water bucket, she led the way through a gate to a melon patch behind the cabin. Her suspicions not entirely allayed, she demanded: “Sheriff Daniels didn’t send you out here?”
“Indeed not,” Penny assured her. “I haven’t seen him since last night.”
“It’s all right then,” Mrs. Davis said in a more friendly tone. She stooped to examine a ripe melon. “I figured maybe he sent you to find out what became of my husband.”
“Oh, no! Didn’t Mr. Davis return home last night?”