The Easterner

The Easterner

A Novel of the Old West

by Robert S. Sheehy, Sr.

Published by Robert S. Sheehy, Sr. at Smashwords

Copyright 1997 Robert S. Sheehy, Sr.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If your reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 -The Rumors

Chapter 2 - Luke Morgan

Chapter 3 - Pete’s Secret

Chapter 4 - The Jackpot

Chapter 5 - Patti’s Plan

Chapter 6 - The Reservation

Chapter 7 - Range Wars

Chapter 8 - Sidetracking Shorty

Chapter 9 - Moonlight Ride

Chapter 10 - Shaky Beginnings

Chapter 11 - Showdown

Chapter 12 - Family

Chapter 13 - It’s Not Over

Chapter 14 - San Marcos

Chapter 15 - Choosing

Chapter 16 - Natchez

Chapter 17 - The End of the Line

Chapter 1

The Rumors

Excruciating!

The only way to describe stagecoach travel. Coach wheels bouncing on the rutted road caused constant swaying, throwing the passengers into the sides and each other. Curtains on the windows did little to stop the choking dust kicked up by the coach wheels and hot desert wind. It swirled through the coach in thick clouds, sticking to hats and clothing wet with perspiration, ready to invade any mouth opened to gasp for air by its bouncing owner.

Ahead, had they cared to look, the passengers would have seen the way station that would be home for the night. But preoccupation with coping with these cramped, hot quarters for eight hours of bumping and jostling consumed them.

Two cowboys appeared to doze with their hats over their eyes. Two women, seated next to each other, coped with the circumstances by trying to engage in conversation.

So, will you be staying long in Tombstone? The younger woman asked.

The older woman answered, No. My husband is supposed to meet me and we'll continue on to Benson on the afternoon stage tomorrow. Then we'll catch the train to Tucson the next morning.

I do hope they have some decent accommodations at this station. I need a good night's sleep! I've been in a couple of these stations over the past month that have been outright unbearable, The younger woman mused, her voice showing the strain of the conditions.

The couple that runs Junction Station are very friendly and keep the place as clean as a good hotel, answered Louella, reaching out a hand to comfort Patty.

That sounds encouraging after this day Patty sighed.

One of the cowboys, obviously older and more experienced, raised the hat off his forehead and added, The Morgans are real nice people and that place is real clean. You'll enjoy your stay there, ma'am.

Louella asked, Is your spread around here?

He responded, yes, ma'am. I'm foreman of the Bar 'W', just a few miles from Junction Station.

That's Wes Wood's place isn't it? Louella continued.

Yes, ma'am, do you know Mr. Wood? he continued.

No, but I've heard of him. My husband and I run a horse ranch outside Tucson and we've heard what a fine and decent man Mr. Wood is, replied Louella.

Yes, he is. And he's a good man to work for, chimed in the younger cowboy. His clothes were new looking and his face was smooth yet.

The fifth passenger was oddly out of place. He was an Easterner. His dark suit with bow tie and bowler hat did not lend itself to these surroundings. He feigned indifference to the conversation, so it seemed nobody caught the raised eyebrow and glint of recognition at the mention of Wes Wood's name by Louella. Nor did anyone else catch the glance the younger lady threw his way.

Louella now glanced out the window and cheered Patty by announcing, look, we're here just as the coach swung into the station yard and the driver yelled Whoa. The shotgun guard called out Junction Station as he jumped down and swung the coach door open. The stationmaster, John Morgan, and his wife Sue were out to greet the stage, as was their custom.

Junction Station was typical of the way stations that had been built in Arizona after the Civil War. Earlier Indian troubles had necessitated building a wall of stone around the yard. The wall, of no real need now, was falling into disrepair. The station buildings on the other hand were well kept. To the right was the path which lead to the rear and the horse corral and barn.

The station had been the starting point for the two cowboys several days before. Eager to reach the Bar W by sundown, they saddled up and departed. As they rode they talked about their trip. Mr. Wood is going to be disappointed at not getting any new breeding stock.

Yeah. But we couldn't stay for the whole auction what with what we heard about Wes.

How do you account for those stories? Why would anyone want to kill Mr. Wood?

I don't understand them myself. Wes has no enemies in these parts, only friends. Unless someone figures they might get his spread if they killed him. But don't worry, anyone trying to kill Wes will have to get by all of us first! But we'll all have to be on the lookout for strangers hanging around and be more watchful. The two were soon only shadowy images against the sun fading into the horizon.

High wispy clouds caught the last rays of the setting sun and turned the sky a beautiful orange hue. The rolling hills with sagebrush and prairie grass that hinted of a more hospitable climate turned from purple and green to gray, as the light was insufficient to highlight the colors. The stillness was broken only occasionally by a screech owl or hawk. As darkness descended further, the howling of coyotes could be heard in the distance.

Back at the station, the two women and the Easterner would be staying overnight, along with the stage crew. Sue showed the three passengers to their rooms and advised them that the driver would soon bring them their luggage. There was fresh water in the washbasin in each room and they were welcome to freshen up before dinner.

After the passengers alighted, Bud Philpott, the driver, pulled the coach around behind the station. Coming through the station and out the kitchen door, John approached the coach. Removing the luggage, Bud asked: What do you make of that 'tenderfoot', John?

I never seen one look that odd, interjected Britt Reynolds, the shotgun guard.

I don't know what to make of him, smiled John.

I reckon he's in for a real rough time if the Bar W boys are around when he gets there, answered Bud. Speaking of the Bar W, Sloan sure lit off out of here in a big hurry tonight. And wasn't he supposed to come back day after tomorrow? Don't suppose he heard them rumors do you?

What rumors? queried John.

Rumors about somebody down in Texas hiring a gun to kill Wes Wood. Bud said it the most direct way for the maximum shock value.

Why would anybody in Texas want to kill Wes? questioned John.

I don't know! An obviously perturbed Bud responded. John, anxious to end the discussion, was stonewalling Bud. He had heard the rumors and knew more than he wished to share with the crew.

Carrying the luggage into the back hallway and depositing them at the guest's rooms, Bud and Britt retired to their respective rooms to wash up for dinner. Heading to the kitchen, they found Sue putting the finishing touches on dinner.

Hey Sue, both chimed.

Hey Bud. Hey Britt. Would you boys like some coffee before dinner? Bud poured and after a couple of sips Britt blurted, you just can't know how much I look forward to coming here for dinner, Sue. You’re the best darn cook in all of Arizona.

I'll second that Bud added.

Well thank you both, Sue blushed. Dinner is just about ready.

Unhitching the horses, John led them to the corral where he dried them off and fed them. He was just about to join the others in the station when he heard a rider approach the barn from the rear. A stout Hey Pa confirmed his suspicions as to the identity of the rider. Peter Morgan, John and Sue's son, had arrived back from the Bar W.

You get that stock delivered okay?

Oh? Is that what I was supposed to be there for? John started playfully toward the boy when he yelled, Yeah, Pa. No problem! Both laughed as John threw an arm around Pete. Wes really liked the filly. He thinks she'll make a good horse for Molly.

Speaking of Molly, how is she?

How else? She's great as always. She says ‘hi’ to you and Ma. We were talking today about getting married when she gets back from Tucson. Wes and Mary said they have no problem with that. Do you think you and Ma would be okay?

John smiled, It's okay with me, but you better ask your ma.

Thanks Pa. This means a lot to me and Molly.

Well, Peter, you decided to grace us with your presence after all. Or did the Woods just get tired of feeding you? Sue was pleased to see him. She commented on his perpetual good timing where meals were concerned since she was just calling everyone for dinner.

At dinner, the conversation was light and pleasant. The older woman, Louella Lindt was already well known to the Morgans. She and her husband Bill owned the largest spread around Tucson and raised horses. John and Sue had stayed with them often when they had gone on buying trips to replenish the stage line's stock.

The younger woman, Patty O'Brien, was a stranger to these parts. An enigma of sorts, she was tall, 5'8", weighed about 140 and was strongly built. With bright expressive blue eyes and auburn, shoulder length hair, she was like a flower in the desert. Her personality matched her beauty and she easily engaged everyone at the table in conversation. Sue asked Patty to tell them all about herself.

We came from Boston and settled in Amarillo, Texas, Patty started.

Sue excitedly interrupted, If you’re from Amarillo, you must know John's brother, Matt? He's the marshal there.

Marshal Matt Morgan? He's your brother? Why everyone in town knows him! What a small world. I'll be sure and tell him I met you when I get back. The conversation drifted to families and being spread out too far. Patty was relieved not to be the center of attention.

John turned to the Easterner, who had been quiet until now. He seemed more comfortable once out of the coach and proved an engaging personality. I work for a large bank in Boston and am on my way to Tombstone on business. Patty immediately engaged him about Boston and the conversation became interesting as well as informative for the westerners as they discussed the history of Boston.

Toward the end of the dinner, during a lull in the conversation, Louella looked at John and asked: How well do you know Wes Wood, John? Do you know anything about his past?

I know Wes very well, He came here about ten years ago and started the Bar W spread. He's one of the biggest landowners and most respected men in the Arizona Territory. Why do you ask?

Well, when I was in Bisbee, visiting my brother, I heard a story that someone in Texas had hired a gunman to come here and kill him. Supposed to be over some old grudge somebody has. Pete started at that revelation. He was close to the Woods and this was bad news to him.

That's where I heard it too; in Bisbee, interrupted Bud.

I'm sure they have the wrong name with these stories. Wes isn't the kind of man to have enemies. John's manner and firmness of conviction seemed to reassure everyone and the conversation turned back to lighter matters. After dinner Patty offered to help Sue clean up the dishes and straighten the kitchen. Sue accepted the offer and they talked as they worked. Sue explained that they hadn't seen Matt in many years and was happy Patty would be able to give him their greetings.

John and Sue had left Texas twenty years before to open a station for Overland Stage Company outside Kansas City, Missouri. Their reputation soon spread and when Overland was amalgamated into Wells Fargo they were offered a district manager position in Wichita. As new territory was opened, the Morgans had moved west and now found themselves in Arizona. Along the way Pete and his younger sister, Martha, had been born. This would be John and Sue's last station. Next year they were to take over the branch office in Tombstone and settle down.

As Patty and Sue finished tidying up the kitchen, Pete accompanied John as he secured the barn and corral for the night. There's something you’re not telling, Pa, about those rumors. John turned and looked toward the station. Missing was the smile he normally wore. A frown appeared ...to be replaced seconds later by a pensive look. Wes Wood is a good friend of our family from Texas, Pete. He does have a past. But you'll have to ask him for more detail than that. When Wes moved here ten years ago I swore I'd never tell anyone about it. Let's just say he was in the same line of business as your grandpa. He probably made some enemies along the line and maybe one of them wants revenge. We'll be on the lookout for strangers and do what we can to protect Wes. Okay?

That sounds okay to me, dad. Speaking of strangers, what about the dude?

John thought for a moment. I think he's basically a pretty good man. Just out of place here in the West. He agreed with Bud that the Easterner could be in for a rough time in Tombstone.

John bid Pete good night as they entered the back hallway of the station. He still wore the strained look as he entered their living quarters. Sue's what's wrong John was met by silence. John knelt and deftly withdrew a small steamer trunk from below the bed and had just started to open it when Sue interrupted, is that really necessary? John withdrew his hand and stared down at the black leather belt and holster and 1860 Army Colt .45 revolver.

I hope not honey, but I don't know now. Bud mentioned those rumors before dinner and then Louella brought them up at dinner. That's the third different direction they've come from. There might just be something to it.

I know Wes Wood is a family friend from the Texas days, John, but you’re not a lawman or a gunman. Wes was. Let him handle this himself. Sue wanted no part of dealing with a gunman.

I will, sweetheart. But I do have a duty to protect the people here at the station. And if I have to have this handy, I want to be prepared. Okay? John tried to be reassuring.

Did Bud confirm the man who was hired? Sue asked pensively.

No. Zander's name never came up. If it were Zander, Wes would never stand a chance at his age, no matter how good he used to be. Nobody ever has.

There is one person who's reported to be as fast if not faster. Sue's eyes twinkled as she spoke.

Yeah, but that's just speculation. And besides, Matt's in Texas. He can't do us much good here. And I wouldn't wish Yale Zander on my worst enemy, much less my kid brother.

After they retired to bed Sue rolled toward John and lovingly stroked his hair as she mused: I've always known that someday your father's background would catch up to you. So far removed from Texas in both time and distance and yet here we are speculating on some unknown danger from his Ranger days.

John took her hand and kissed it. I think speculating is a good choice of words. We don't really know if the rumors are founded or not. Maybe I acted hastily in getting my gun out. Pete and I agreed to be ready just the same. You know, I really don't know what we'd do without that boy.

Young man, John, he's not a boy anymore. And with Martha back east at school, he's had to shoulder a lot of work between here and Wood's. He's done a powerful lot of growing up in a short time. Sue beamed with pride at the mention of Pete.

Sue rolled over to go to sleep but John just stared at the ceiling. Sue's reference to his past caused John think of his father. Luke Morgan was one of the best known Texas Rangers, Marshals and Judges in the entire State of Texas. John lay awake for a long time that night.

Chapter 2

Luke Morgan

Luke Morgan was born in 1820 in Paterson, New Jersey, the son of immigrant parents. He had a knack for tinkering and developed a particular knack for repairing guns. He talked about opening his own gunsmithing shop and started looking for a shop. Before he could find one, however, his father saw an item in the local paper.

Here's something that might interest you, Luke. It seems a man named Samuel Colt is opening a factory to produce a new type of revolving pistol, which he patented. They're looking for machinists and assembly people who have good mechanical abilities and like to tinker. Good pay. Steady hours. Apply in person.

Huh? Let me see that, please. I'll go down tomorrow morning and see if I’d be interested and if they’d hire me.

Luke was at the listed address at 8:00 sharp the next morning. He was shown into an office and asked to wait there. A few moments later Pliny Lawton, the plant superintendent, came in and introduced himself. Do you have any experience, Mr. Morgan?

Not in a factory, sir, but I do a lot of repairs around my neighborhood. I was looking for a small shop to rent so I could go into business for myself. My father saw your add, and knowing how good I am at repairing guns, he thought I should talk to you.

You repair guns? Do you shoot them too? Pliny was surprised and very interested.

Yes sir. I have to test them when I'm through repairing them. I go a little ways out of town and do some shooting at targets. I've become pretty accurate. Luke had to be careful not to brag too much.

Rifle or pistol? Pliny inquired.

Both, sir. I've repaired percussion and flintlocks.

We’re mostly looking for assemblers right now, Luke. But if you're willing to start out assembling, we can probably move you to testing and repair in a short time. Mr. Colt's revolvers are unique and you would need to know how they are made before you could repair and test them. Would you be interested? We could definitely use someone with your experience. Pliny offered him a job.

Luke couldn't believe it. He had come just to check it out and here he had a job if he accepted. Yes, Mr. Lawton, I would be very interested.

Good. You can start next Monday at 7:00 am. And call me Pliny, since we'll be working together.

Thank you. I'll be here to start on time. Luke’s enthusiasm showed, even though he had yet to see Mr. Colt's invention.

Luke reported to work promptly the following Monday. Several weeks into the job he met Sam Colt. Colt was young and a very affable person. He kept in close contact with his employees, when he was in town, which was rare.

Luke worked at assembly for about six weeks and then Pliny broke him into testing and repair. Sam Colt, when he was around, took a shine to Luke and they soon became good friends. Sales never picked up for Sam Colt and after three years the factory closed. Luke opened his own gunsmithing shop. He had been open for about six months when his