Note: Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/namelessriver00roev NAMELESS RIVER by VINGIE E. ROE Author of “Tharon of Lost Valley,” “Val of Paradise,” etc. New York Duffield and Company 1923 Copyright, 1923, by The McCall Company Copyright, 1923, by Duffield & Company Printed in U. S. A. CONTENTS I. “Fight for a Woman? Hell! If ’twas th’ Horse, Now—” II. The Homestead on Nameless III. The Iron Hand of Sky Line IV. The Mystery of Blue Stone Cañon V. What Nance Found VI. Shadows in the Sheriff’s Glass VII. The Shadows Thicken VIII. Brand Fair IX. Golden Magic X. The Seventh Sense XI. The Ashes of Hope XII. “Get-out-of-that-Door!” XIII. “We’re Our Pappy’s Own—and we Belong on Nameless.” XIV. Light on the Sheriff’s Shadows XV. The Flange in Rainbow Cliff XVI. The Ancient Miracle XVII. The Face in the Package XVIII. The Fighting Line at Last XIX. Riders of Portent XX. Conclusion NAMELESS RIVER CHAPTER I “FIGHT FOR A WOMAN? HELL! IF ’TWAS TH’ HORSE NOW—” It was Springtime in the Deep Heart country. On the broad slopes, the towering slants of the hills themselves, the conifers sang their everlasting monotone, tuned by the little winds from the south. On the flaring fringes of their sweeping skirts where the streams ran, maples trembled in the airy sun and cottonwoods shook their thousand palms of silver. Great cañons cut the ridges, dark and mysterious, murmuring with snow water, painted fantastically in the reds and browns and yellows of their weathered stone. Pine trees grew here, and piñons, hemlock and spruce, all the dark and sombre people of the forest, majestic and aloof. But in the sweet valleys that ran like playful fingers all ways among the hills, where lay tender grass of a laughing brightness, flowers nodded thick in the drowsy meadows. It was a lonesome land, set far from civilization, but beautiful withal, serene, silent, wild with crag and peak and precipice. Deer browsed in its sheltered places, a few timber wolves preyed on them, while here and there a panther screamed to the stars at night. For many years a pair of golden eagles had reared their young on the beetling escarpment that crowned Mystery Ridge. It was a rich land, too, for many cattle ran on its timbered slants and grew sleek and fat for fall along the reaches of the river.