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      COPYRIGHT INFO

      The B.M. Bower Megapack is copyright © 2012 by Wildside Press LLC.

      A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER

      Over the last year, our “Megapack” series of ebook anthologies has proved to be one of our most popular endeavors. (Maybe it helps that we sometimes offer them as premiums to our mailing list!) One question we keep getting asked is, “Who’s the editor?”

      The Megapacks (except where specifically credited) are a group effort. Everyone at Wildside works on them. This includes John Betancourt, Carla Coupe, Steve Coupe, Bonner Menking, Colin Azariah-Kribbs, A.E. Warren, and many of Wildside’s authors…who often suggest stories to include (and not just their own!).

      A NOTE FOR KINDLE READERS

      The Kindle versions of our Megapacks employ active tables of contents for easy navigation…please look for one before writing reviews on Amazon that complain about the lack! (They are sometimes at the ends of ebooks, depending on your reader.)

      RECOMMEND A FAVORITE STORY?

      Do you know a great classic science fiction story, or have a favorite author whom you believe is perfect for the Megapack series? We’d love your suggestions! You can post them on our message board at http://movies.ning.com/forum (there is an area for Wildside Press comments).

      Note: we only consider stories that have already been professionally published. This is not a market for new works.

      TYPOS

      Unfortunately, as hard as we try, a few typos do slip through. We update our ebooks periodically, so make sure you have the current version (or download a fresh copy if it’s been sitting in your ebook reader for months.) It may have already been updated.

      If you spot a new typo, please let us know. We’ll fix it for everyone. You can email the publisher at [email protected] or use the message boards above.

      —John Betancourt

      Publisher, Wildside Press LLC

      www.wildsidepress.com

      THE MEGAPACK SERIES

      The Adventure Megapack

      The Christmas Megapack

      The Second Christmas Megapack

      The Cowboy Megapack

      The Craig Kennedy Scientific Detective Megapack

      The Cthulhu Mythos Megapack

      The Ghost Story Megapack

      The Horror Megapack

      The Macabre Megapack

      The Martian Megapack

      The Military Megapack

      The Mummy Megapack

      The Mystery Megapack

      The Science Fiction Megapack

      The Second Science Fiction Megapack

      The Third Science Fiction Megapack

      The Fourth Science Fiction Megapack

      The Fifth Science Fiction Megapack

      The Sixth Science Fiction Megapack

      The Penny Parker Megapack

      The Pinocchio Megapack

      The Pulp Fiction Megapack

      The Rover Boys Megapack

      The Steampunk Megapack

      The Tom Corbett, Space Cadet Megapack

      The Tom Swift Megapack

      The Vampire Megapack

      The Victorian Mystery Megapack

      The Werewolf Megapack

      The Western Megapack

      The Wizard of Oz Megapack

      AUTHOR MEGAPACKS

      The E.F. Benson Megapack

      The B.M. Bower Megapack

      The Wilkie Collins Megapack

      The Randall Garrett Megapack

      The Murray Leinster Megapack

      The Second Murray Leinster Megapack

      The Andre Norton Megapack

      The Rafael Sabatini Megapack

      FLYING U RANCH

      CHAPTER I

      The Coming of a Native Son

      The Happy Family, waiting for the Sunday supper call, were grouped around the open door of the bunk-house, gossiping idly of things purely local, when the Old Man returned from the Stock Association at Helena; beside him on the buggy seat sat a stranger. The Old Man pulled up at the bunk-house, the stranger sprang out over the wheel with the agility which bespoke youthful muscles, and the Old Man introduced him with a quirk of the lips:

      “This is Mr. Mig-u-ell Rapponi, boys—a peeler straight from the Golden Gate. Throw out your war-bag and make yourself to home, Mig-u-ell; some of the boys’ll show you where to bed down.”

      The Old Man drove on to the house with his own luggage, and Happy Jack followed to take charge of the team; but the remainder of the Happy Family unobtrusively took the measure of the foreign element. From his black-and-white horsehair hatband, with tassels that swept to the very edge of his gray hatbrim, to the crimson silk neckerchief draped over the pale blue bosom of his shirt; from the beautifully stamped leather cuffs, down to the exaggerated height of his tan boot-heels, their critical eyes swept in swift, appraising glances; and unanimous disapproval was the result. The Happy Family had themselves an eye to picturesque garb upon occasion, but this passed even Pink’s love of display.

      “He’s some gaudy to look at,” Irish murmured under his breath to Cal Emmett.

      “All he lacks is a spot-light and a brass band,” Cal returned, in much the same tone with which a woman remarks upon a last season’s hat on the head of a rival.

      Miguel was not embarrassed by the inspection. He was tall, straight, and swarthily handsome, and he stood with the complacence of a stage favorite waiting for the applause to cease so that he might speak his first lines; and, while he waited, he sifted tobacco into a cigarette paper daintily, with his little finger extended. There was a ring upon that finger; a ring with a moonstone setting as large and round as the eye of a startled cat, and the Happy Family caught the pale gleam of it and drew a long breath. He lighted a match nonchalantly, by the artfully simple method of pinching the head of it with his fingernails, leaned negligently against the wall of the bunk-house, and regarded the group incuriously while he smoked.

      “Any pretty girls up this way?” he inquired languidly, after a moment, fanning a thin smoke-cloud from before his face while he spoke.

      The Happy Family went prickly hot. The girls in that neighborhood were held in esteem, and there was that in his tone which gave offense.

      “Sure, there’s pretty girls here!” Big Medicine bellowed unexpectedly, close beside him. “We’re all of us engaged to ’em, by cripes!”

      Miguel shot an oblique glance at Big Medicine, examined the end of his cigarette, and gave a lift of shoulder, which might mean anything or nothing, and so was irritating to a degree. He did not pursue the subject further, and so several belated retorts were left tickling futilely the tongues of the Happy Family—which does not make for amiability.

      To a man they liked him little, in spite of their easy friendliness with mankind in general. At supper they talked with him perfunctorily, and covertly sneered because he sprinkled his food liberally with cayenne and his speech with Spanish words pronounced with soft, slurred vowels that made them sound unfamiliar, and against which his English contrasted sharply with its crisp, American enunciation.

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