There was something about the little woman which restrained him from talking freely and speaking his mind bluntly as was his habit.
He cranked the car, waited until she had the adjustment correct, and then went back and stood on the running board, holding with his left hand to a brace of the top and keeping his right free in case he should need it.

The little woman helped the little girl into the front seat, slid her own small person behind the wheel and glanced round inquiringly, with a flattering recognition of his masculine right to command.
"Just head towards town and keep a-going till I say when," he told her, and she nodded and sent Jawn careening down over the rough tracks which Casey had missed by a quarter of a mile or less.
She could drive, Casey admitted, almost as recklessly as he could.

He had all he wanted to do, hanging on without being snapped off at some of the sharp turns she made.

The road wandered down the valley for ten miles, crept over a ridge, then dove headlong into another wide, shallow valley seamed with washes and deep cuts.

The little woman never eased her pace except when there was imminent danger of turning Jawn bottomside up in a wash.