The soldiers became aware of the rider. By their sudden concern Annie knew he was not one of their own. The soldier who held the squealing pig dropped it. It scurried off into a corner to join its fellows, grunting as it pushed its way deeply into the bunch. The soldiers cursed Annie and Petra but climbed out over the fence and trotted off toward their rough camp. The rider stopped his horse and watched them pass cautiously behind him, perhaps more intimidated by the rifle he carried than the one Annie had pointed at them. He brought the horse around and continued to watch them until they disappeared into their jacal. Then he came on toward the two women.

Annie thought she recognized the horse and the way the man sat the saddle, but the face was different.

“Is that Isaac Blackwood?” she asked Petra.

Petra nodded. “It is. He has no more whiskers.”

Isaac had shaved away the heavy black beard, leaving his face clean, the lower part pale compared to the upper because the whiskers had so long sheltered it from the sun.

Isaac reined up and touched fingers to the floppy brim of an old hat. “Mornin’, ladies. You-all havin’ trouble?”

Annie felt so relieved that she could have kissed him. “I’m afraid we were fixin’ to. You came along just in time.”

Petra turned, hearing the youngest crying, unaccustomed to being left shut up in the cabin. “I must go. Thank you, Mr. Blackwood.” She turned and hurried to see about the children.

Isaac said to Annie, “I don’t know as I done anything, except just ride up.”

Annie said, “That was enough. You couldn’t have timed it any better.”

“Ain’t Andrew around?”

“We needed meat. We hadn’t had any trouble with the soldiers, so he thought it was safe to ride out. And then I guess they decided it was safe to come in here and take a pig.”

Isaac made a thin smile, staring at Annie’s rifle. “I don’t know if it was or not. Would you really have fired that thing?”

“I was about to find out when you showed up.”

His smile widened. “You’ve got a look in your eye. I wouldn’t ever want you after me with that rifle. I do believe you’d use it.”

She glanced toward the little jacal on the river. “I hope I never have to find out.” She studied his face then. She had never really seen Isaac’s features before; they had always been half hidden by a growth of black beard. She would not call him handsome, even now, but she could see strength in the set of his square jaw. “What went with your beard, Mr. Blackwood?”

“I decided to get rid of it. And I wisht you’d get rid of that Mr. Blackwood. We’re neighbors. Everybody just calls me Isaac.”

“Are you hungry, Isaac? It wouldn’t take us long to fix up somethin’.”

“I’d be much obliged.” He dismounted and began walking beside her toward the cabin. “One thing I don’t understand. Looks like it would’ve saved a lot of trouble if you’d just let them carry off a pig. One pig ain’t worth much.”