James Sheridan Knowles - "The Hunchback"

Annie Payson Call - "Power Through Repose"

John Lothrop Motley - "The Life of John of Barneveld, 1609 14"

E. P. Roe - "Nature's Serial Story"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: The Man of the Forest

Z >> Zane Grey >> The Man of the Forest




Roy took off his sombrero and greeted her. This Mormon had a
courtesy for women that spoke well for him. Helen wished she
had more employees like him.

"It's jest as Las Vegas told us it 'd be," he said,
regretfully. "Mulvey an' his pards lit out this mornin'. I'm
sorry, Miss Helen. Reckon thet's all because I come over."

"I heard the news," replied Helen. "You needn't be sorry,
Roy, for I'm not. I'm glad. I want to know whom I can
trust."

"Las Vegas says we're shore in for it now."

"Roy, what do you think?"

"I reckon so. Still, Las Vegas is powerful cross these days
an' always lookin' on the dark side. With us boys, now, it's
sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. But, Miss
Helen, if Beasley forces the deal there will be serious
trouble. I've seen thet happen. Four or five years ago
Beasley rode some greasers off their farms an' no one ever
knowed if he had a just claim."

"Beasley has no claim on my property. My uncle solemnly
swore that on his death-bed. And I find nothing in his books
or papers of those years when he employed Beasley. In fact,
Beasley was never uncle's partner. The truth is that my
uncle took Beasley up when he was a poor, homeless boy."

"So my old dad says," replied Roy. "But what's right don't
always prevail in these parts."

"Roy, you're the keenest man I've met since I came West.
Tell me what you think will happen."

Beeman appeared flattered, but be hesitated to reply. Helen
had long been aware of the reticence of these outdoor men.

"I reckon you mean cause an' effect, as Milt Dale would
say," responded Roy, thoughtfully.

"Yes. If Beasley attempts to force me off my ranch what will
happen?"

Roy looked up and met her gaze. Helen remembered that
singular stillness, intentness of his face.

"Wal, if Dale an' John get here in time I reckon we can
bluff thet Beasley outfit."

"You mean my friends -- my men would confront Beasley --
refuse his demands -- and if necessary fight him off?"

"I shore do," replied Roy.

"But suppose you're not all here? Beasley would be smart
enough to choose an opportune time. Suppose he did put me
off and take possession? What then?"

"Then it 'd only be a matter of how soon Dale or Carmichael
-- or I -- got to Beasley."

"Roy! I feared just that. It haunts me. Carmichael asked me
to let him go pick a fight with Beasley. Asked me, just as
he would ask me about his work! I was shocked. And now you
say Dale -- and you --"

Helen choked in her agitation.

"Miss Helen, what else could you look for? Las Vegas is in
love with Miss Bo. Shore he told me so. An' Dale's in love
with you! . . . Why, you couldn't stop them any more 'n you
could stop the wind from blowin' down a pine, when it got
ready. . . . Now, it's some different with me. I'm a Mormon
an' I'm married. But I'm Dale's pard, these many years. An'
I care a powerful sight for you an' Miss Bo. So I reckon I'd
draw on Beasley the first chance I got."

Helen strove for utterance, but it was denied her. Roy's
simple statement of Dale's love had magnified her emotion by
completely changing its direction. She forgot what she had
felt wretched about. She could not look at Roy.

"Miss Helen, don't feel bad," he said, kindly. "Shore you're
not to blame. Your comin' West hasn't made any difference in
Beasley's fate, except mebbe to hurry it a little. My dad is
old, an' when he talks it's like history. He looks back on
happenin's. Wal, it's the nature of happenin's that Beasley
passes away before his prime. Them of his breed don't live
old in the West. . . . So I reckon you needn't feel bad or
worry. you've got friends."

Helen incoherently thanked him, and, forgetting her usual
round of corrals and stables, she hurried back toward the
house, deeply stirred, throbbing and dim-eyed, with a
feeling she could not control. Roy Beeman had made a
statement that had upset her equilibrium. It seemed simple
and natural, yet momentous and staggering. To hear that Dale
loved her -- to hear it spoken frankly, earnestly, by Dale's
best friend, was strange, sweet, terrifying. But was it
true? Her own consciousness had admitted it. Yet that was
vastly different from a man's open statement. No longer was
it a dear dream, a secret that seemed hers alone. How she
had lived on that secret hidden deep in her breast!

Something burned the dimness from her eyes as she looked
toward the mountains and her sight became clear, telescopic
with its intensity. Magnificently the mountains loomed.
Black inroads and patches on the slopes showed where a few
days back all bad been white. The snow was melting fast.
Dale would soon be free to ride down to Pine. And that was
an event Helen prayed for, yet feared as she had never
feared anything.


The noonday dinner-bell startled Helen from a reverie that
was a pleasant aftermath of her unrestraint. How the hours
had flown! This morning at least must be credited to
indolence.

Bo was not in the dining-room, nor in her own room, nor was
she in sight from window or door. This absence had occurred
before, but not particularly to disturb Helen. In this
instance, however, she grew worried. Her nerves presaged
strain. There was an overcharge of sensibility in her
feelings or a strange pressure in the very atmosphere. She
ate dinner alone, looking her apprehension, which was not
mitigated by the expressive fears of old Maria, the Mexican
woman who served her.

After dinner she sent word to Roy and Carmichael that they
had better ride out to look for Bo. Then Helen applied
herself resolutely to her books until a rapid clatter of
hoofs out in the court caused her to jump up and hurry to
the porch. Roy was riding in.

"Did you find her?" queried Helen, hurriedly.

"Wasn't no track or sign of her up the north range," replied
Roy, as he dismounted and threw his bridle. "An' I was
ridin' back to take up her tracks from the corral an' trail
her. But I seen Las Vegas comin' an' he waved his sombrero.
He was comin' up from the south. There he is now."

Carmichael appeared swinging into the lane. He was mounted
on Helen's big black Ranger, and he made the dust fly.

"Wal, he's seen her, thet's shore," vouchsafed Roy, with
relief, as Carmichael rode up.

"Miss Neil, she's comin'," said the cowboy, as he reined in
and slid down with his graceful single motion. Then in a
violent action, characteristic of him, he slammed his
sombrero down on the porch and threw up both arms. "I've a
hunch it's come off!"

"Oh, what?" exclaimed Helen.

"Now, Las Vegas, talk sense," expostulated Roy. "Miss Helen
is shore nervous to-day. Has anythin' happened?"

"I reckon, but I don't know what," replied Carmichael,
drawing a, long breath. "Folks, I must be gettin' old. For I
shore felt orful queer till I seen Bo. She was ridin' down
the ridge across the valley. Ridin' some fast, too, an'
she'll be here right off, if she doesn't stop in the
village."

"Wal, I hear her comin' now," said Roy. "An' -- if you asked
me I'd say she WAS ridin' some fast."

Helen heard the light, swift, rhythmic beat of hoofs, and
then out on the curve of the road that led down to Pine she
saw Bo's mustang, white with lather, coming on a dead run.

"Las Vegas, do you see any Apaches?" asked Roy, quizzingly.

The cowboy made no reply, but he strode out from the porch,
directly in front of the mustang. Bo was pulling hard on the
bridle, and had him slowing down, but not controlled. When
he reached the house it could easily be seen that Bo had
pulled him to the limit of her strength, which was not
enough to halt him. Carmichael lunged for the bridle and,
seizing it, hauled him to a standstill.

At close sight of Bo Helen uttered a startled cry. Bo was
white; her sombrero was gone and her hair undone; there were
blood and dirt on her face, and her riding-suit was torn and
muddy. She had evidently sustained a fall. Roy gazed at her
in admiring consternation, but Carmichael never looked at
her at all. Apparently he was examining the horse. "Well,
help me off -- somebody," cried Bo, peremptorily. Her voice
was weak, but not her spirit.

Roy sprang to help her off, and when she was down it
developed that she was lame.

"Oh, Bo! You've had a tumble," exclaimed Helen, anxiously,
and she ran to assist Roy. They led her up the porch and to
the door. There she turned to look at Carmichael, who was
still examining the spent mustang.

"Tell him -- to come in," she whispered.

"Hey, there, Las Vegas!" called Roy. "Rustle hyar, will
you?"

When Bo had been led into the sitting-room and seated in a
chair Carmichael entered. His face was a study, as slowly he
walked up to Bo.

"Girl, you -- ain't hurt?" he asked, huskily.

"It's no fault of yours that I'm not crippled -- or dead or
worse," retorted Bo. "You said the south range was the only
safe ride for me. And there -- I -- it happened."

She panted a little and her bosom heaved. One of her
gauntlets was gone, and the bare band, that was bruised and
bloody, trembled as she held it out.

"Dear, tell us -- are you badly hurt?" queried Helen, with
hurried gentleness.

"Not much. I've had a spill," replied Bo. "But oh! I'm mad
-- I'm boiling!"

She looked as if she might have exaggerated her doubt of
injuries, but certainly she had not overestimated her state
of mind. Any blaze Helen had heretofore seen in those quick
eyes was tame compared to this one. It actually leaped. Bo
was more than pretty then. Manifestly Roy was admiring her
looks, but Carmichael saw beyond her charm. And slowly he
was growing pale.

"I rode out the south range -- as I was told," began Bo,
breathing hard and trying to control her feelings. "That's
the ride you usually take, Nell, and you bet -- if you'd
taken it to-day -- you'd not be here now. . . . About three
miles out I climbed off the range up that cedar slope. I
always keep to high ground. When I got up I saw two horsemen
ride out of some broken rocks off to the east. They rode as
if to come between me and home. I didn't like that. I
circled south. About a mile farther on I spied another
horseman and he showed up directly in front of me and came
along slow. That I liked still less. It might have been
accident, but it looked to me as if those riders had some
intent. All I could do was head off to the southeast and
ride. You bet I did ride. But I got into rough ground where
I'd never been before. It was slow going. At last I made the
cedars and here I cut loose, believing I could circle ahead
of those strange riders and come round through Pine. I had
it wrong."

Here she hesitated, perhaps for breath, for she had spoken
rapidly, or perhaps to get better hold on her subject. Not
improbably the effect she was creating on her listeners
began to be significant. Roy sat absorbed, perfectly
motionless, eyes keen as steel, his mouth open. Carmichael
was gazing over Bo's head, out of the window, and it seemed
that he must know the rest of her narrative. Helen knew that
her own wide-eyed attention alone would have been
all-compelling inspiration to Bo Rayner.

"Sure I had it wrong," resumed Bo. "Pretty soon heard a
horse behind. I looked back. I saw a big bay riding down on
me. Oh, but he was running! He just tore through the cedars.
. . . I was scared half out of my senses. But I spurred and
beat my mustang. Then began a race! Rough going -- thick
cedars -- washes and gullies I had to make him run -- to
keep my saddle -- to pick my way. Oh-h-h! but it was
glorious! To race for fun -- that's one thing; to race for
your life is another! My heart was in my mouth -- choking
me. I couldn't have yelled. I was as cold as ice -- dizzy
sometimes -- blind others -- then my stomach turned -- and I
couldn't get my breath. Yet the wild thrills I had! . . .
But I stuck on and held my own for several miles -- to the
edge of the cedars. There the big horse gained on me. He
came pounding closer -- perhaps as close as a hundred yards
-- I could hear him plain enough. Then I had my spill. Oh,
my mustang tripped -- threw me 'way over his head. I hit
light, but slid far -- and that's what scraped me so. I know
my knee is raw. . . . When I got to my feet the big horse
dashed up, throwing gravel all over me -- and his rider
jumped off. . . . Now who do you think he was?"

Helen knew, but she did not voice her conviction. Carmichael
knew positively, yet he kept silent. Roy was smiling, as if
the narrative told did not seem so alarming to him.

"Wal, the fact of you bein' here, safe an' sound, sorta
makes no difference who thet son-of-a-gun was," he said.

"Riggs! Harve Riggs!" blazed Bo. "The instant I recognized
him I got over my scare. And so mad I burned all through
like fire. I don't know what I said, but it was wild -- and
it was a whole lot, you bet.

"You sure can ride,' he said.

"I demanded why he had dared to chase me, and he said he had
an important message for Nell. This was it: 'Tell your
sister that Beasley means to put her off an' take the ranch.
If she'll marry me I'll block his deal. If she won't marry
me, I'll go in with Beasley.' Then he told me to hurry home
and not to breathe a word to any one except Nell. Well, here
I am -- and I seem to have been breathing rather fast."

She looked from Helen to Roy and from Roy to Las Vegas. Her
smile was for the latter, and to any one not overexcited by
her story that smile would have told volumes.

"Wal, I'll be doggoned!" ejaculated Roy, feelingly.

Helen laughed.

"Indeed, the working of that man's mind is beyond me. . . .
Marry him to save my ranch? I wouldn't marry him to save my
life!

Carmichael suddenly broke his silence.

"Bo, did you see the other men?"

"Yes. I was coming to that," she replied. "I caught a
glimpse of them back in the cedars. The three were together,
or, at least, three horsemen were there. They had halted
behind some trees. Then on the way home I began to think.
Even in my fury I had received impressions. Riggs was
SURPRISED when I got up. I'll bet he had not expected me to
be who I was. He thought I was NELL! . . . I look bigger in
this buckskin outfit. My hair was up till I lost my hat, and
that was when I had the tumble. He took me for Nell. Another
thing, I remember -- he made some sign -- some motion while
I was calling him names, and I believe that was to keep
those other men back. . . . I believe Riggs had a plan with
those other men to waylay Nell and make off with her. I
absolutely know it."

"Bo, you're so -- so -- you jump at wild ideas so,"
protested Helen, trying to believe in her own assurance. But
inwardly she was trembling.

"Miss Helen, that ain't a wild idee," said Roy, seriously.
"I reckon your sister is pretty close on the trail. Las
Vegas, don't you savvy it thet way?"

Carmichael's answer was to stalk out of the room.

"Call him back!" cried Helen, apprehensively.

"Hold on, boy!" called Roy, sharply.

Helen reached the door simultaneously with Roy. The cowboy
picked up his sombrero, jammed it on his head, gave his belt
a vicious hitch that made the gun-sheath jump, and then in
one giant step he was astride Ranger.

"Carmichael! Stay!" cried Helen.

The cowboy spurred the black, and the stones rang under
iron-shod hoofs.

"Bo! Call him back! Please call him back!" importuned Helen,
in distress.

"I won't," declared Bo Rayner. Her face shone whiter now and
her eyes were like fiery flint. That was her answer to a
loving, gentle-hearted sister; that was her answer to the
call of the West.

"No use," said Roy, quietly. "An' I reckon I'd better trail
him up."

He, too, strode out and, mounting his horse, galloped
swiftly away.


It turned out that Bo, was more bruised and scraped and
shaken than she had imagined. One knee was rather badly cut,
which injury alone would have kept her from riding again
very soon. Helen, who was somewhat skilled at bandaging
wounds, worried a great deal over these sundry blotches on
Bo's fair skin, and it took considerable time to wash and
dress them. Long after this was done, and during the early
supper, and afterward, Bo's excitement remained unabated.
The whiteness stayed on her face and the blaze in her eyes.
Helen ordered and begged her to go to bed, for the fact was
Bo could not stand up and her hands shook.

"Go to bed? Not much," she said. "I want to know what he
does to Riggs."

It was that possibility which had Helen in dreadful
suspense. If Carmichael killed Riggs, it seemed to Helen
that the bottom would drop out of this structure of Western
life she had begun to build so earnestly and fearfully. She
did not believe that he would do so. But the uncertainty was
torturing.

"Dear Bo," appealed Helen, "you don't want -- Oh! you do
want Carmichael to -- to kill Riggs?"

"No, I don't, but I wouldn't care if he did," replied Bo,
bluntly.

"Do you think -- he will?"

"Nell, if that cowboy really loves me he read my mind right
here before he left," declared Bo. "And he knew what I
thought he'd do."

"And what's -- that?" faltered Helen.

"I want him to round Riggs up down in the village --
somewhere in a crowd. I want Riggs shown up as the coward,
braggart, four-flush that he is. And insulted, slapped,
kicked -- driven out of Pine!"

Her passionate speech still rang throughout the room when
there came footsteps on the porch. Helen hurried to raise
the bar from the door and open it just as a tap sounded on
the door-post. Roy's face stood white out of the darkness.
His eyes were bright. And his smile made Helen's fearful
query needless.

"How are you-all this evenin'?" he drawled, as he came in.

A fire blazed on the hearth and a lamp burned on the table.
By their light Bo looked white and eager-eyed as she
reclined in the big arm-chair.

"What 'd he do?" she asked, with all her amazing force.

"Wal, now, ain't you goin' to tell me how you are?"

"Roy, I'm all bunged up. I ought to be in bed, but I just
couldn't sleep till I hear what Las Vegas did. I'd forgive
anything except him getting drunk."

"Wal, I shore can ease your mind on thet," replied Roy. "He
never drank a drop."

Roy was distractingly slow about beginning the tale any
child could have guessed he was eager to tell. For once the
hard, intent quietness, the soul of labor, pain, and
endurance so plain in his face was softened by pleasurable
emotion. He poked at the burning logs with the toe of his
boot. Helen observed that he had changed his boots and now
wore no spurs. Then he had gone to his quarters after
whatever had happened down in Pine.

"Where IS he?" asked Bo.

"Who? Riggs? Wal, I don't know. But I reckon he's somewhere
out in the woods nursin' himself."

"Not Riggs. First tell me where HE is."

"Shore, then, you must mean Las Vegas. I just left him down
at the cabin. He was gettin' ready for bed, early as it is.
All tired out he was an' thet white you wouldn't have knowed
him. But he looked happy at thet, an' the last words he
said, more to himself than to me, I reckon, was, 'I'm some
locoed gent, but if she doesn't call me Tom now she's no
good!"'

Bo actually clapped her hands, notwithstanding that one of
them was bandaged.

"Call him Tom? I should smile I will," she declared, in
delight. "Hurry now -- what 'd --"

"It's shore powerful strange how he hates thet handle Las
Vegas," went on Roy, imperturbably.

"Roy, tell me what he did -- what TOM did -- or I'll
scream," cried Bo.

"Miss Helen, did you ever see the likes of thet girl?" asked
Roy, appealing to Helen.

"No, Roy, I never did," agreed Helen. "But please -- please
tell us what has happened."

Roy grinned and rubbed his hands together in a dark delight,
almost fiendish in its sudden revelation of a gulf of
strange emotion deep within him. Whatever had happened to
Riggs had not been too much for Roy Beeman. Helen remembered
hearing her uncle say that a real Westerner hated nothing so
hard as the swaggering desperado, the make-believe gunman
who pretended to sail under the true, wild, and reckoning
colors of the West.

Roy leaned his lithe, tall form against the stone
mantelpiece and faced the girls.

"When I rode out after Las Vegas I seen him 'way down the
road," began Roy, rapidly. "An' I seen another man ridin'
down into Pine from the other side. Thet was Riggs, only I
didn't know it then. Las Vegas rode up to the store, where
some fellars was hangin' round, an' he spoke to them. When I
come up they was all headin' for Turner's saloon. I seen a
dozen hosses hitched to the rails. Las Vegas rode on. But I
got off at Turner's an' went in with the bunch. Whatever it
was Las Vegas said to them fellars, shore they didn't give
him away. Pretty soon more men strolled into Turner's an'
there got to be 'most twenty altogether, I reckon. Jeff
Mulvey was there with his pards. They had been drinkin'
sorta free. An' I didn't like the way Mulvey watched me. So
I went out an' into the store, but kept a-lookin' for Las
Vegas. He wasn't in sight. But I seen Riggs ridin' up. Now,
Turner's is where Riggs hangs out an' does his braggin'. He
looked powerful deep an' thoughtful, dismounted slow without
seein' the unusual number of hosses there, an' then he
slouches into Turner's. No more 'n a minute after Las Vegas
rode down there like a streak. An' just as quick he was off
an' through thet door."

Roy paused as if to gain force or to choose his words. His
tale now appeared all directed to Bo, who gazed at him,
spellbound, a fascinated listener.

"Before I got to Turner's door -- an' thet was only a little
ways -- I heard Las Vegas yell. Did you ever hear him? Wal,
he's got the wildest yell of any cow-puncher I ever beard.
Quicklike I opened the door an' slipped in. There was Riggs
an' Las Vegas alone in the center of the big saloon, with
the crowd edgin' to the walls an' slidin' back of the bar.
Riggs was whiter 'n a dead man. I didn't hear an' I don't
know what Las Vegas yelled at him. But Riggs knew an' so did
the gang. All of a sudden every man there shore seen in Las
Vegas what Riggs had always bragged HE was. Thet time comes
to every man like Riggs.

"'What 'd you call me?' he asked, his jaw shakin'.

"'I 'ain't called you yet,' answered Las Vegas. 'I just
whooped.'

"'What d'ye want?'

"'You scared my girl.'

"'The hell ye say! Who's she?' blustered Riggs, an' he began
to take quick looks 'round. But he never moved a hand. There
was somethin' tight about the way he stood. Las Vegas had
both arms half out, stretched as if he meant to leap. But he
wasn't. I never seen Las Vegas do thet, but when I seen him
then I understood it.

"'You know. An' you threatened her an' her sister. Go for
your gun,' called Las Vegas, low an' sharp.

"Thet put the crowd right an' nobody moved. Riggs turned
green then. I almost felt sorry for him. He began to shake
so he'd dropped a gun if he had pulled one.

"'Hyar, you're off -- some mistake -- I 'ain't seen no gurls
-- I --'

"'Shut up an' draw!' yelled Las Vegas. His voice just
pierced holes in the roof, an' it might have been a bullet
from the way Riggs collapsed. Every man seen in a second
more thet Riggs wouldn't an' couldn't draw. He was afraid
for his life. He was not what he had claimed to be. I don't
know if he had any friends there. But in the West good men
an' bad men, all alike, have no use for Riggs's kind. An'
thet stony quiet broke with haw -- haw. It shore was as
pitiful to see Riggs as it was fine to see Las Vegas.

"When he dropped his arms then I knowed there would be no
gun-play. An' then Las Vegas got red in the face. He slapped
Riggs with one hand, then with the other. An' he began to
cuss him. I shore never knowed thet nice-spoken Las Vegas
Carmichael could use such language. It was a stream of the
baddest names known out here, an' lots I never heard of. Now
an' then I caught somethin' like low-down an' sneak an'
four-flush an' long-haired skunk, but for the most part they
was just the cussedest kind of names. An' Las Vegas spouted
them till he was black in the face, an' foamin' at the
mouth, an' hoarser 'n a bawlin' cow.

"When he got out of breath from cussin' he punched Riggs all
about the saloon, threw him outdoors, knocked him down an'
kicked him till he got kickin' him down the road with the
whole haw-hawed gang behind. An' he drove him out of town!"



CHAPTER XVIII

For two days Bo was confined to her bed, suffering
considerable pain, and subject to fever, during which she
talked irrationally. Some of this talk afforded Helen as
vast an amusement as she was certain it would have lifted
Tom Carmichael to a seventh heaven.

The third day, however, Bo was better, and, refusing to
remain in bed, she hobbled to the sitting-room, where she
divided her time between staring out of the window toward
the corrals and pestering Helen with questions she tried to
make appear casual. But Helen saw through her case and was
in a state of glee. What she hoped most for was that
Carmichael would suddenly develop a little less inclination
for Bo. It was that kind of treatment the young lady needed.
And now was the great opportunity. Helen almost felt tempted
to give the cowboy a hint.