Then she went on, feeling a bit less alone in the world.
After all, he was her dad, and his life had been hard.

If he failed to understand her and her mental hunger for real companionship, perhaps she also failed to understand him.
They had left the timber line now and had come to the lip of the canyon itself.

Lorraine looked down its steep, rock-roughened sides and thought how her old director would have raved over its possibilities in the way of "stunts." Yellow jacket, she noticed, kept circumspectly to the center of the trail and eyed the canyon with frank disfavor.
She did not know at just what moment she became aware of trouble behind her.

It may have been Yellowjacket, turning his head sidewise and abruptly quickening his pace that warned her.

It may have been the difference in the sound of the wagon and the impact of the horses' hoofs on the rocky trail.