Cavanagh Forest Ranger: A Romance of the Mountain West

An excerpt:. Lee Virginia Wetherford began her return journey into the mountain West with exultation. From the moment she opened her car-window that August morning in Nebraska the plain called to her sustained her illusions. It was all quite as big as tawny as she remembered it-fit arena for the epic deeds in which her father had been a leader bold and free.. Her memories of Roaring Fork and its people were childish and romantic. She recalled vividly the stagecoach which used to amble sedately not to say wheezily from the railway to the Fork and from the Fork back to the railway in the days when she had ridden away in it a tearful despairing long-limbed girl and fully expected to find it waiting for her at Sulphur City with old Tom Quentan still as its driver.. The years of absence had been years of growth and though she had changed from child to woman in these suns and moons she could not think of the Fork as anything other than the romantic town she had left-a list wherein spurred and steel-girt cow-men strode lamely over uneven sidewalks or swooped like the red nomads of the desert in mad troops through the starlit night.