Showdown at Lone Pine

By Tom Branson

Jack Bateman lost his wife and baby and turned to the bottle for comfort. He had earned a reputation as the town drunk. When he overheard Butch and Pete planning to kidnap Katie Denning, the newly arrived widow, he knew he had to do something. Trouble was, he was a drunk and in order for her to take him seriously hed have to sober up.

Afraid the drunk would mess up their plans for the rich widow, Butch Hyatt, the bankers son, and his newly found friend, Pete, who was of questionable reputation, made it look like Jack Bateman murdered Esther Watkins.

Locked up in jail for Esthers murder, and unable to convince the Sheriff he was innocent, Jack broke jail and stole a horse to rescue Katie Denning who had awakened feelings in him that he hadnt felt since the death of his wife. He knew she was in real troublemaybe dead. If she was to have a chance at all, it would be up to him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 17, 2006
• ISBN: 9781425906399

Tom Branson

Tom Branson                   The excitement and adventure of the old west has always appealed to me.  It taxed men and women to their limits, producing heroes and cowards.  The tall mountains and hidden valleys, mixed with the hot dry deserts, fueled my mind with thoughts of adventure.  It was a time when you knew where you stood.  Men and women were strong or weak, and were judged by what they did, not by what they said.                I grew up watching TV westerns and loved them.  My life’s experiences have given me a feel for the joys and sorrows that come, along with the hard knocks.  Having lived and traveled all over the western half of the United States, I’ve had a chance to see first-hand the places were the Old West began and ended.               The reason I started writing westerns was a love of writing and a desire to tell a story in such a way the reader could escape from the stress and worry of everyday life. The Western Era in particular is about a time in our country’s history that was hard, and had challenges that built character.  Sadly, those values seem to be disappearing in our modern world.  Not only do I want to spin a good, entertaining yarn, but I want to help awaken the old feelings of right and wrong, courage and honor.  People like boundaries; they like to know where they stand and have something to hang onto when times get tough.  Escape from reality through a good story now and then gives us the time we need to regroup and gain the strength and desire to face a new day.               The idea for the book, Showdown at Lone Pine, came while driving in my car and listening to a country western song on the radio.   The story is loosely based on an area I love in North Central Washington.                                                 

Book preview

Showdown At

Lone Pine

Tom Branson

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This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

© 2006 Tom Branson. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 02/13/06

ISBN: 1-4259-0639-7 (e)

ISBN: 1-4259-0638-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4259-0639-9 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2005910849

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Tom Branson

Chapter 1

Steadily the stagecoach pressed on, a constant bouncing, sometimes jolting ride. Wind blew through the open windows bringing with it a choking dust, and sounds of the driver talking to his team of horses. There were two places to sit, both hard and cramped with the other passengers of the coach. Gingerly, Jack Bateman reached inside his coat pocket and lifted the shiny flask containing the firewater that dulled his senses. Tipping the flask up he looked across from him into the dark eyes of an attractive woman. In spite of the fog in his mind, he couldn’t help notice she was very pretty.

Rarely was he completely sober. Putting the cap back on the bottle, he placed it inside his coat pocket. Chancing another look, he saw that the dark-eyed beauty was still watching him. Tipping his hat, he slurred, Good for what ails me.

A smile leaked out from the corners of her pretty mouth and crept across her face. Without meaning to she sized him up. His clothes were dirty, unkempt, and looked as though they’d been slept in for a long time. It was plain to see he was drunk, and it had been a long time since he’d had a decent meal. His shoulders were broad and he had thick, dark hair. The thing that bothered her was he didn’t look the part. Pushing one of her curls back in place, she thought, is this man following me? Is this all an act? Chancing one final glance at him she noticed a sadness about him, and wondered why.

Quickly she pushed the thoughts of the stranger out of her mind. Katie Morrison chided herself, she was a widowed woman, and was still recovering from the loss of her husband. She had been happy and loved him. It seemed like they had a long life ahead of them, but her world collapsed one day when her husband was shot to death during a botched robbery. It seemed impossible—that sort of thing only happened to other people. The robbery was a failure, rewarding the men with little more than pocket change. Upon hearing what happened, she moved the money to another place. Coming back from the funeral, she discovered her house had been gone through. Everything was torn apart, broke open and ransacked. Sitting down, she cried, overwhelmed by the loss of her husband and the feelings of being violated. Someone had found out about her husband’s inheritance and was determined to get it.

After the funeral she noticed the townspeople treated her differently. They didn’t say anything to her face, but she would see them talking and when she came by they would stop. There was a nasty rumor that cut to her heart, that she had only married Peter for his money. People didn’t approve much of her; she was pretty and had been ten years younger than her husband. It wasn’t until after she married him that she found out his family had money. He didn’t talk much about them, seems they were all caught up with their lifestyle in New York City and didn’t have much time for her husband.

One day a check came in the mail for Peter for fifty thousand dollars, with a note that his parents had died the month before. When he went to the bank to cash his check, the bank president got excited, said it would be a month before he would be able to honor his check. Her husband didn’t care, money wasn’t all that important to him, but he knew it could bring trouble and told the banker not to breathe a word about it. Well, that secret lasted less than a day, and the news spread like wildfire.

After their secret leaked out, people seemed to treat them differently. The people in town would make a point to greet them, opening doors or just stand and stare at them. They were the same; nothing had changed, except now they had money.

It wasn’t long after the funeral before the men in town would go out of their way to speak to her. She didn’t know if it was because she was pretty or the money she had. Never did she talk about it. Never did she tell a soul where it was hidden. She bought a Colt 45 and kept it in her purse. One night, asleep in her bed, she awoke with a start. Lying there, she tried to clear her thoughts and push the dreaming away. Something woke her up, some sound out of the normal, but what? Her room was almost completely black except for a little light coming from the partial moon outside. Slowly, without rolling over for fear of the bed creaking, she slipped her hand under her pillow, retrieved her gun, and waited. By now she was completely awake, and her eyes were beginning to focus better. Lying in bed she recognized the different shapes in the room—her dresser, the coal oil lantern sitting on her nightstand, and she thought she could even make out the picture frame on the wall.

A board creaked just outside the bedroom door and her heart began to pound a little faster. Waiting, she studied the bedroom door but nothing changed. She remembered her father’s stories about hunting. He liked to talk about patience, waiting for the right moment, like an Indian. If she got up out of bed to check out the sound, and someone was there, she’d walk right into harm’s way. No, she determined, she would wait, even if it killed her. Just thinking the thought, a chill swept over her.

Minutes passed, and she began to have doubts, maybe she was only hearing things. Was it all just a silly dream and no one was actually there? Searching the room, she let her eyes travel over each item, checking them off in her mind. When her eyes reached the window she felt a small whisper of air against her cheek. Quickly she looked back to the door and a dark silhouette was framed there. The sound of cocking her gun cracked through the room like thunder. Instantly she heard retreating boots on the floor outside her room, that was followed up by the sound of a horse riding away.

Relief swept over her and she could feel her muscles begin to relax. Getting out of bed she slowly worked her way through the house, gun in hand, making sure no one else was around. As she sat in her chair, she noticed for the first time, she could hear her heart pounding. The idea of going back to sleep was ridiculous. She could have been killed! Her whole body started shaking. Somehow she had to be brave. What she needed was a plan.

That was the night she began thinking of leaving. She liked her home. It was full of memories of Peter. Painful as they were, it was all she had left. Both of her parents had died a few years before with a cholera outbreak. The home was security to her, but all that changed with the attempted robbery. Her plan was simple, get on a stage and leave all behind. With the money she had, she could start over somewhere far away, where nobody knew her.

It was dark when the stage rolled into Lone Pine. All the passengers were tired, dirty and glad to be out of the misery box. Katie Morrison stepped down first, followed by the rest of the passengers. Standing on the boardwalk she looked up and down the street. It wasn’t anything special, just a long ways from where she had come, and that was the important part. The other passengers had begun to walk away. The drunken man caught her eye as he began walking toward the saloon. He seemed to be a tall man, and, in spite of his present condition, walked with an air of confidence. Again she realized she was spending way too much thought on him. After all, he would be a bad catch. Lifting her hand to her mouth she smiled at herself, what was she thinking?

Can I help you Ma’am? It was the stage driver. Turning, she met his gaze.

Repeating the question a little differently, he said, Would you like some help with your bags?

Uh, yes, sure.

Where ya headed to, the hotel?

Nodding her head in the affirmative, the driver picked up her bags and saw she was holding one. You want me to carry that one, too?

Smiling politely she said, You already have enough to carry.

Shrugging his shoulders he mumbled, Suit yourself, ma’am, and started off toward the hotel with her following behind. Inside, several men sat on chairs and a large sofa. Katie was used to men looking at her, and now was no different. The men in the room looked up as she and the driver entered. The thick smell of cigar smoke hung over the room like a blanket. A man with a green eyeshade on his head sat at the desk, reading the paper. Looking up and seeing her standing in front of him, his face lit up with a smile. Yes Ma’am, what can I do for you tonight?

You idiot, grumbled the driver, holding the suitcases, Can’t you see the little lady wants a room? Why else would she be standing here at this time of night?

Somewhat embarrassed, the man asked, Will you be staying long?

Glancing quickly around the room, she saw two men in the lounge area who were listening intently. Caught in the act of eavesdropping, they picked up their newspapers. She turned back to the clerk and said softly, Yes, I’m planing on staying for a while.

Wanting to please, he said, while looking at the keys on the wall, I’ll put you two in room 5, the best room in the house.

Two? asked Katie.

Somewhat frustrated, but afraid to show it, the clerk said, Don’t you want your husband in your room with you?

The driver chuckled and Katie blushed, No… he’s not my husband.

Oh, I see. Listen, I don’t mean to pry into other people’s business, but I’ve been given orders from the owner of this hotel, that we can’t rent rooms to people who aren’t married.

Oh for Pete’s sake, barked the driver, is everyone in this town as stupid as you? She wants the room for herself. I’m the stagecoach driver and offered to carry in her bags.

Red-faced with embarrassment, the clerk said, Ooh.

The sound of wagons lumbering by and people working, came to Katie as she awoke. For a minute she had trouble remembering where she was. Then with a little thrill, mixed with a dash of fear, she remembered she had begun a new life and today was to be the beginning of it.

First thing she had to do was take the money to the bank. If someone thought she had that kind of money, she’d have the same sort of problems as she did back home. Maybe the banker could help her find a place to live. She got up, took the pitcher and poured water into the bowl on the table and washed her face. Peeking out the window, she looked to see what the town was like in the daylight. The street was lined with false-fronted buildings. A boardwalk ran down both sides of the dirt street. In the distance she could hear the clang from the blacksmith’s hammer, mixed with sounds of kids playing. Across the street, sitting in a chair, she recognized the man from the stage who was drunk. She felt her interest pick up but quickly dismissed it. She didn’t want a man; her heart still ached for Peter. Even if she did, a drunk wouldn’t be the sort of man she would want to associate with. No, it was too soon to be thinking about romance; what she needed was peace and security.

Putting herself together, she made plans for the day. Outside, the air was fresh and crisp, filled with the warming rays of sunshine. Looking both ways, she spotted the bank across the street, and headed for it. People looked up as she passed by; noticing someone new was in town.

The bank, like most of the buildings in town, was made out of plank wood. There were bars in front of the teller windows and over in the corner was a large steel door that Katie took to be the safe. Up until this time she had had the fifty thousand dollars in a carpet bag that she kept with her at all times. No one paid much attention to it, as women were always hanging on to one kind of a bag or another. Stepping up to the teller window she asked, How secure is your bank?

The bank teller looked up at her and smiled, You can rest easy, Ma’am, your money will be safe here with us. We have a new safe that was brought in all the way from St. Louis last year, and it’s guaranteed to be crime proof. Once that door is locked, no one gets in, not even Mr. Dynamite, if you know what I mean.

Glancing around the bank she could see there weren’t any other customers, so she placed the carpetbag on the counter. I’d like to deposit this.

The teller looked at her curiously and peeked into the bag. His head jerked up in surprise, Ma’am that’s a lot of money!

Yes, I know, that’s the reason I’d like to place it in your safe.

Turning around he said, Mr. Hyatt, I think you should come over here and handle this transaction personally.

Lee Hyatt was a big man but small on patience. Annoyed having to get up and curious as to what all the concern was about, he sauntered over to the teller’s window. With a hint of impatience in his voice he said, All right, what’s so important that you couldn’t handle this yourself?

The teller said, Look for yourself.

He pulled the bag over to him and looked inside. Straightening up, he took a second look at Katie, That’s a lot of money you have there, Mrs…?

Annoyed at all the fuss, Katie said, Yes, I know that, will you keep that money in your bank?

Lee Hyatt’s face broke out in a smile from ear to ear. After all, nothing like money to change a man’s heart. Of course we will, you don’t have to worry about a thing.

Katie could see the wheels turning in the man’s head, and felt a little uncomfortable. I’ll want a receipt for my money.

Shaking his head reassuringly he said, Why of course, I wouldn’t think of letting you leave without one.

Motioning with his hand, Hyatt said, Step on over to my desk, I’ll need to get some personal information.

After sitting down, counting the money, and grabbing a paper and a pen to write with, Hyatt looked up. Now let me see, I’ll need to know your full name.

Katie fidgeted in her chair. She didn’t like giving out information, especially to a complete stranger. Seeing her discomfort, he continued. It’s just a formality you understand. Everyone who deposits money in the bank needs to tell us their name so we’ll know who to give it back to. And an address in case we need to get a hold of you.

Nodding her head she began. Katie… Denning. It was a fictitious name. Her married name was Morrison, but she didn’t want this banker or anyone else to know that.

Looking up, Hyatt paused a moment then said, And what address should we put down, in case we need to get a hold of you?

For now I’ll be staying down the street at the Hotel.

Leaning back in his chair, Hyatt studied the young woman in front of him. Not only was she very pretty, but could she be involved in some sort of crime? Well that should just about take care of it. Your money will be safe here, locked up in the bank.

Katie smiled, Thank you, Mr. Hyatt, I feel better already. Oh, just one more thing, I know that money will be helpful for the bank to operate, and help me by earning interest. So I suppose you could say we have a working relationship here. Just so there are no misunderstandings, if anyone finds out about how much money or just the fact I have a lot, I’ll pull all of it out immediately. Do I make myself clear?

Coolly he studied her; this was a sharp woman. It irked him that she even brought the matter up. In his most convincing voice he replied, What goes on in here is nobody’s business.

Changing the subject, Katie went on, I’m going to be looking for a house to rent or maybe buy; I thought you might know of one that would be available.

The door opened from outside and two of Lone Pine’s leading women walked in, discussing the next sewing social at the church. Walking up to the teller’s window they waited, spotting Katie. Carefully they sized her up noticing that she was young and very pretty. Both women exchanged glances.

Handing Katie her receipt, Hyatt said, I might be able to help you with that, Miss Denning. Come back around here after lunch; I’ll do some checking.

Thank you." She stood up and started for the door, smiling at the two women waiting in line. Lee Hyatt watched her walk across the floor and go out the door. He smiled to himself; she could be the answer to one of his problems. Maybe with a little effort on his part he might fix her up with his oldest son. She had the money he wanted, and she had the looks that his son Butch would want. Hyatt rubbed his chin; this was a smart one; he would have to be careful not to show his hand.

Mr. Hyatt, if you could break away from staring at that pretty girl we would like to do some business! I should think your wife wouldn’t like it if she saw how you’ve been carrying on.

Lee Hyatt walked over and placed his big hands on the counter and leaned forward. In a slow and deliberate voice that had no warmth in it he said, You saw nothing at all. What can I help you with today?

Uncomfortable under the harsh glare of the banker, Janet Applebee cleared her throat, Well, maybe we did speak a mite quick, but you have to admit you seemed to be enjoying watching that pretty girl.

Feeling their discomfort, Hyatt commented, Ma’am, I always enjoy looking at a pretty girl. Again, what can I do for you ladies today?

A bit flustered at Hyatt’s brazenness, Janet Applebee took the lead, Actually I don’t want anything, Edith is the one who needs the help.

Placing two dollars on the counter, Edith Harshfield pushed them toward the banker, I’d like to place this in my bank account.

Turning abruptly, Hyatt motioned to the other teller to finish the transaction. He carefully returned the money to the carpetbag, picked it up, and walked back to the safe and stepped in. Once inside where no one could observe him he picked up the money and handled it, enjoying the feel. That would be enough money for him to retire on for the rest of his life. Somehow…

As they pulled the bank door closed behind them, the two women looked up and down the street. Well, what do you make of that, Edith? Did you see how he tried to intimidate us into thinking we didn’t see him staring at that little hussy?

Edith was a tall woman in her early forties. She enjoyed the companionship of Mrs. Applebee and the other women from church. Pretty women were a threat to their influence in town. It was hard enough to keep her husband and the other leading men in line, without them losing their heads over some floozy in a tight fitting dress. We’re going to need to be on guard against that woman. She could cause a lot of trouble and cost the town money if she has any schemes in that pretty head of hers.

Janet Applebee went on, If I were Mrs. Hyatt, I’d be more than a little concerned. Someone should warn her about what’s going on between her husband and that— that, well, you know.

Maybe we should march right over to her house and tell the poor woman what’s happening, commented Edith.

The thought lingered in Janet’s mind, building force. Then the image of Lee Hyatt glaring down at them at the bank cooled off some of her vigilance. Maybe we should watch and see, before we act too quickly. Let’s discuss it later with some of the other women at church tonight.

The thought of being able to bring up the story of what the two saw at the bank today caused a smile of gleeful anticipation on Edith’s face. Sure, sure, we need to talk this over.

The bank was a block or more down the street on the same side as the saloon. Janet and Edith watched as they saw Katie Denning walking down the boardwalk. A man staggered out of the