And any balin' wire on this ranch is my balin' wire, and it's got a right to lay around wherever I want it t' lay.

And I don't need no danged squaw givin' me hints about 'how my place oughta be kept--now I'm tellin' yuh!" Annie-Many-Ponies did not reply in words.

She sat on her horse, straight as any young warchief that ever led her kinsmen to battle, and looked down at Applehead with that maddening half smile of hers, inscrutable as the Sphinx her features sometimes resembled.

Shunka Chistala (which is Sioux for Little Dog) came bounding over the low ridge that hid the ranch buildings from sight, and wagged himself dislocatingly up to her.
Annie-Many-Ponies frowned at his approach until she saw that Applehead was aiming a clod at the dog, whereupon she touched her heels to the horse and sent him between Applehead and her pet, and gave Shunka Chistala a sharp command in Sioux that sent him back to the house with his tail dropped.
For a full half minute she and old Applehead looked at each other in open antagonism.

For a squaw, Annie-Many-Ponies was remarkably unsubmissive in her bearing.