The She Boss

The She Boss, by Arthur Preston
Hankins

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Title: The She Boss A Western Story
Author: Arthur Preston Hankins
Release Date: August 27, 2006 [EBook #19129]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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BOSS ***

Produced by Al Haines

[Frontispiece: "He was flailing right and left with a huge pine knot in
either hand."]

THE SHE BOSS
A WESTERN STORY
BY
ARTHUR PRESTON HANKINS

AUTHOR OF
THE HERITAGE OF THE HILLS, THE JUBILEE GIRL, ETC.

GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS ---------- NEW YORK

Copyright, 1922
By CHELSEA HOUSE
The She Boss

(Printed In the United States of America)
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages,
including the Scandinavian.

CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I.

BEAR VALLEY'S DRONE II. OUT OF THE WOODS III. SAN
FRANCISCO IV. TWITTER OR TWEET V. A RIVAL VI. THE FIRE
VII. HIRAM, THE BUTTERFLY VIII. LUCY'S AMBITIONS IX.
HIRAM WAKES UP X. JERKLINE JO XI. THE RETURN OF
JERKLINE JO XII. SKINNERS FROM FRISCO XIII. THE START
FOR JULIA XIV. A WIRE TO JULIA XV. MR. TWEET
NEGOTIATES A LOAN XVI. TEHACHAPI HANK XVII. IN
LETTERS OF BLACK XVIII. GREATER RAGTOWN XIX. WHAT
MADE THE WILD CAT XX. DRUMMOND'S PASSENGER XXI.
LUCY SEES A PROSPECT XXII. JERKLINE JO'S SURPRISE XXIII.
DRUMMOND WEAVES A DREAM XXIV. WHAT HAPPENED AT
THE LAKE XXV. JO LOSES HER SUPPORT XXVI. AT THE
HAIRPIN CURVE XXVII. UNDER THE DRIPPING TREES XXVIII.
FOUR-UP FOR HELP XXIX. THE GENTLE WILD CAT RETURNS
XXX. HIRAM TAKES THE TRAIL XXXI. A TALE OF THE
DESERT'S DEAD XXXII. LUCY PLANS A COUNTER-ATTACK
XXXIII. POCKETED XXXIV. WHILE SPRING APPROACHED
XXXV. THE WAY OF LIFE

The She Boss
CHAPTER I
BEAR VALLEY'S DRONE
Spring was manifest in the vast big-timber country of Mendocino
County. "Uncle" Sebastian Burris felt the moist warmth of it oozing
from the slowly drying road as he trudged along. The smell of it
emanated from the white, pale-yellow, and pink fungi that flourished
on the soaked and ancient logs along the way. He heard the voice of it
in the soft murmuring of the South Fork of the Eel, which went
twinkling down Bear Valley through firs and redwoods straight as
telegraph poles; in the caress of the soft south wind soughing in the
tree-tops. Chipmunks and gray squirrels darted across his path.
A quarter of a mile from Wharton Bixler's store he turned off on a

narrow road which led into the deeper forest. He passed through groves
of redwoods which towered three hundred feet above him, and whose
girth was over sixty feet. A half mile more the old man trudged on
sturdily, muttering occasionally to himself. Then he struck a cross trail
which paralleled Ripley Creek, and this he followed into the sunshine
of an open spot.
Across this, through thickets of whitethorn, manzanita, alder, and bay
he limped along, following deer trails. The deeper forest was left
behind in the lowlands. A grass-grown bark road, which he eventually
found, followed the creek, ascending sharply through shade and
sunshine, crossing and recrossing the creek on wooden bridges,
twisting, always climbing.
On one of the bridges Uncle Sebastian Burris halted. A great snarl of
bleached driftwood had collected just above the bridge, and through it
the clear water roared in a dozen tiny cataracts. Beyond the drift Uncle
Sebastian had caught a glimpse of some living, moving object. He
wiped his watery blue eyes with a red handkerchief, looked once more,
then crossed the bridge and wound through a thicket of huckleberry
bushes till abreast the drift.
A little later he was peering down a steep bank into the boulder-studded
bottom of Ripley Creek, where lay a fine young specimen of the genus
homo idly tossing pebbles into the crystal water. A smile half sardonic
grew in the features of Uncle Sebastian as he stood looking down at
him.
The youth, unconscious of the presence of another, kept on idly tossing
the pebbles, recumbent on one elbow. His long sinewy legs were
incased in slick jean trousers of stovepipe lines and stiffness. He wore
no coat. A faded blue shirt covered his barrel of a body, and his slouch
hat was off, exposing long, light, wiry hair and a freckled neck. His
lean jaws were covered by a two weeks' growth of beard. About him
drooped hazels and alders. From one end to the other Ripley Creek was
beautiful; there was no lovelier