There was something between vexation and respect in Dad’s voice. He turned to look back as he spoke. Rabbit had mounted the hilltop just across the dip, where she stood looking over at her shifty-footed lord, two sheep-dogs at her side.
“How did she locate you?” Mackenzie inquired, not in the least displeased over this outreaching of justice after the fickle old man.
“She’s been trailin’ me four years!” Dad whispered, 196 his respect for Rabbit’s powers on the scent unmistakable.
“That’s a long time to hold a cold trail. Rabbit must be some on the track!”
“You can’t beat them Indians follerin’ a man if they set their heads to it. Well, it’s all off with the widow-lady at Four Corners now––Rabbit’s got me nailed. You see them sheep-dogs? Them dogs they’d jump me the minute Rabbit winked at ’em––they’d chaw me up like a couple of lions. She’s raised ’em up to do it, dad-burn her! Had my old vest to learn ’em the scent.”
“A man never ought to leave his old vest behind him when he runs away from his wife,” said Mackenzie, soberly. “But it looks to me like a woman with the sticking qualities Rabbit’s got isn’t a bad one to stay married to. How in the world could a reservation squaw find her way around to follow you all this time?”
“She’s educated, dang her; she went to the sisters’ mission. She can read and write a sight better than me. She’s too smart for a squaw, bust her greasy eyes! Yes, and I’ll never dast to lay a hand on her with them dogs around. They’d chaw me up quicker’n a man could hang up his hat.”
Rabbit composed herself after her patient but persistent way, sitting among the bushes with only her head showing, waiting for Dad’s next move.
“You’re married to her regularly, are you, Dad?”
“Priest marriage, dang it all!” said Dad, hopelessly.