Produced by Al Haines [Illustration: Cover art] THE RANCH AT THE WOLVERINE By B. M. BOWER Author of "The Lonesome Land," Etc. A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 114-120 East Twenty-third Street ---- New York Published by Arrangement with Little, Brown and Company Copyright, 1914, BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. _All rights reserved_ CONTENTS CHAPTER I. LET US START AT THE BEGINNING II. A STORM AND A STRANGER III. A BOOK, A BANNOCK, AND A BED IV. "OLD DAME FORTUNE'S USED ME FOR A FOOTBALL" V. MARTHY BURIES HER DEAD AND GREETS HER NEPHEW VI. A MATTER OF TWELVE MONTHS OR SO VII. WARD HUNTS WOLVES VIII. HELP FOR THE COW BUSINESS IX. WHEN EMOTIONS ARE BOTTLED X. THIS PAL BUSINESS XI. WAS IT THE DOG? XII. THE LITTLE DEVILS OF DOUBT XIII. THE CORRAL IN THE CANYON XIV. EACH IN HIS OWN TRAIL XV. "YOU WON'T GET ME AGAIN" XVI. "I'M GOING TO TAKE YOU OUT AND HANG YOU" XVII. "SO-LONG, BUCK!" XVIII. FORTUNE KICKS AGAIN XIX. THE BRAVE BUCKAROO XX. "WE BEEN SORRY FOR YOU" XXI. SEVEN LEAN KINE XXII. THE BILLY OF HER XXIII. BILLY LOUISE GETS A SURPRISE XXIV. THE HOOKIN'-COUGH MAN XXV. THE WOLF JOKE XXVI. "HM-MM!" XXVII. MARTHY XXVIII. ALL RIGHT AND COMFY _The Ranch at the Wolverine_ CHAPTER I LET US START AT THE BEGINNING Four trail-worn oxen, their necks bowed to the yoke of patient servitude, should really begin this story. But to follow the trail they made would take several chapters which you certainly would skip--unless you like to hear the tale of how the wilderness was tamed and can thrill at the stern history of those who did the taming while they fought to keep their stomachs fairly well filled with food and their hard-muscled bodies fit for the fray. There was a woman, low-browed, uncombed, harsh of voice and speech and nature, who drove the four oxen forward over lava rock and rough prairie and the scanty sage. I might tell you a great deal about Marthy, who plodded stolidly across the desert and the low-lying hills along the Blackfoot; and of her weak-souled, shiftless husband whom she called Jase, when she did not call him worse. They were the pioneers whose lurching wagon first forded the singing Wolverine stream just where it greens the tiny valley and then slips between huge lava-rock ledges to join the larger stream. Jase would have stopped there and called home the sheltered little green spot in the gray barrenness. But Marthy went on, up the farther hill and across the upland, another full day's journey with the sweating oxen.