But finally he drank.

Lucy led him up the wash to another likely place, and tied him securely.
When she got back to the camp in the cedars the rider was there, on his knees, kindling the fire.

His clean-shaved face and new apparel made him vastly different.

He was young, and, had he not been so gaunt, he would have been fine-looking, Lucy thought.
"Wildfire remembered me," Lucy burst out.

"He wasn't a bit scary.