Bertha Muzzy Sinclair or Sinclair-Cowan, (November 15, 1871 - July 23, 1940), best known by her pseudonym B. M. Bower, was an American author who wrote novels, fictional short stories, and screenplays about the American Old West. Her works, featuring cowboys and cows of the Flying U Ranch in Montana, reflected "an interest in ranch life, the use of working cowboys as main characters (even in romantic plots), the occasional appearance of eastern types for the sake of contrast, a sense of western geography as simultaneously harsh and grand, and a good deal of factual attention to such matters as cattle branding and bronc busting." She was married three times: to Clayton Bower in 1890, to Bertrand William Sinclair (also a Western author) in 1905, and to Robert Elsworth Cowan in 1921. However, she chose to publish under the name Bower.Born Bertha Muzzy in Otter Tail County, Minnesota, to Washington Muzzy and Eunice Miner Muzzy, Bower moved with her family to a dryland homestead near Great Falls, Montana, in 1889. That fall, just before her eighteenth birthday, she began teaching school in nearby Milligan Valley. The school was a small, hastily converted log outbuilding, and she taught twelve pupils. Her experiences as a teacher informed the characters of schoolma'ams who appear frequently in her in the writings, notably in The North Wind Do Blow (1937), in which a young, eastern-born schoolma'am teaches her first term in central Montana. After one term as a schoolteacher, Bower returned to her family's homesteadOn December 21, 1890, Bower shocked her family by eloping with her first husband, Clayton J. Bower. Their marriage was unhappy. The newlyweds lived first with the Muzzy family, moving later to Great Falls and then to Big Sandy, Montana, in 1898. Her experiences in Big Sandy gave her intimate knowledge of cowboy life on the open range. Bower gave birth to three children during her marriage to Clayton: Bertha Grace in 1891, Harold Clayton in 1893, and Roy Noel in 1896. Eventually, Clayton moved the family to a lonely hayfield cabin, which Bower nicknamed "Bleak Cabin," about a mile out of Big Sandy. To help with rent, the Bowers accepted a boarder named Bill Sinclair. Sinclair, aged twenty-two, was nine years younger than Bower, but nevertheless a partnership began between them. Bower lent books to Sinclair and tutored him in writing while he helped her understand the finer points of cowpunching and critiqued the Western stories she had begun to write.

Casey Ryan knew his desert. Also, from long and not so happy experience, he knew Fords, orthought he did. He made the mistake, however, of buying a nearly new one and asking it toaccomplish the work of a twin six from the moment he got behind the wheel.He was fortunate in buying a demonstrator's car with a hundred miles or so to its credit. Hearrived in Barstow before the proprietor of a supply store had gone to bed-for which he wasgrateful to the Ford. He loaded up there with such necessities for desert prospecting as he had notwaited to buy in Los Angeles, turned short off the main highway where traffic officers might besummoned by telephone to lie in wait for him, and took the steeper and less used trail north. He wasstill mad and talking bitterly to himself in an undertone while he drove-telling the new Ford whathe thought of city rules and city ways, and driving it as no Ford was ever meant by its maker to bedriven.The country north of Barstow is not to be taken casually in the middle of a dark night, even byCasey Ryan and a Ford. The roads, once you are well away from help, are all pretty much alike, andall bad. And although the white, diamond-shaped signs of a beneficent automobile club are postedhere and there, where wrong turnings are most likely to prove disastrous to travelers, Casey Ryanwas in the mood to lick any man who pointed out a sign to him. He did see one or two in spite ofhimself and gave a grunt of contempt. So, where he should have turned to the east (his intentionbeing to reach Nevada by way of Silver Lake) he continued traveling north and didn't know it.Driving across the desert on a dark night is confusing to the most observant wayfarer. On eitherside, beyond the light of the car, illusory forest stands for mile upon mile. Up hill or down or acrossthe level it is the same-a narrow, winding trail through dimly seen woods. The most familiar roadgrows strange; the miles are longer; you drive through mystery and silence and the world around youis a formless void.Dawn and a gorgeous sunrise painted out the woods and revealed barren hilltops which Caseydid not know. Because he did not know them, he guessed shrewdly that he was on his way to thewilderness of mountains and sand which lies west of Death Valley. Small chance he had of hearingthe shop whistles blow in Las Vegas at noon, as he had expected.

White Mule is the first of a trilogy of novels by William Carlos Williams about the immigrant Stecher family in New York at the turn of the 20th century. The "White Mule" of the title refers to Flossie, the angry, assertive, uncompromising baby, who can kick like White Mule whiskey.

The White Mule covers the true story of a World War II solider. Enlisting himself in the United States Army, Jack Graham became a part of the infantry and fought in North Africa and Italy during the war. As a part of his story, Jack recounts how, when on a mission, his division used a white mule as part of their attack force. Trudge through the battlefields in this soldier’s personal account of living and fighting on the front lines in the Second Great War.

Reproduction of the original. The publishing house Megali specialises in reproducing historical works in large print to make reading easier for people with impaired vision.

Reproduction of the original. The publishing house Megali specialises in reproducing historical works in large print to make reading easier for people with impaired vision.

A tale of bootleggers, bullets, cowboys, and frontier life.