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If By Chance
If By Chance
If By Chance
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If By Chance

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The saga of the Eaton Clan on their journey west as a part of the westward expansion of the United States in the 19th century, continues. This is the third volume of the story of a family that has been transplantated from Ballyickeen, Ireland by a seventeen year old boy, the sole surviving member of the family. His name was Sean Eaton, and he would father this new American Eaton clan.
In volume three, Chance Eaton, the oldest son of Sean, after having faced danger as a lawman and trail boss on a cattle drive, returns home to seek peace and solitude, only to find that his sister in Wyoming is in danger. Her powerful neighboring ranchers are accusing her, her husband, and their men, of stealing cattle. They have threatened to burn them out and hang anyone on the ranch.
Knowing that his skills with a gun, and his experience as a lawman, may be the only protection available to his sister, Chance mounts up and heads north to protect her or die in the attempt.
As he makes his way to reach the town of Justin, Wyoming, Chance had no way of knowing that a beautiful freckle faced redhead named Molly McMurphy would become a larger part of his life than he could have expected.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherMike Poppe
Release dateFeb 19, 2014
ISBN9781310017254
If By Chance
Author

Mike Poppe

I was born in Rector, Arkansas, a small farming based town in Northeast Arkansas. Later, my parents moved to St. Louis in search of better economic opportunity. At age 16, disallusioned and bored with the “One Size Fits All” educational system, I dropped out in the 10th grade.Just as soon as I turned 17, I joined the Marine Corps. The education the Corps provided, wasn't always polite and pleasant, but it most certainly was not boring. My four year enlistment included one year in South Vietnam. 7 November, 1965 to 6 November, 1966. At the end of my enlistment, having attained the rank of Sgt E-5, I returned to civilian life.After nine months as an Industrial Engineering Clerk, I took advantage of an opportunity to move into transportation. For the next 34 years, I was a dispatcher and driver supervisor in the Trucking Industry.In 2011, the rise in popularity of E-books caught my attention. A life long avid reader, I'd always believed I could write a book, but didn't know how to go about getting it published. The birth of E-Books changed all that. In the fall of 2011, fulfilling a life long dream, I published my first book, The Sparrows Whisper.Today, my wife, Mary Katherine, and I, live in a small rural town in Southwestern Illinois. With the encouragement of family and friends, I've published a total of 13 novels. The split between my books has been divided pretty evenly between Mysteries and Westerns. Work on number 14, is under way.For all those that have taken the time to read my books, I appreciate your interest very much.

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    If By Chance - Mike Poppe

    Introduction

    If By Chance, is the third novel I have written in which I offer a fictionalized account of an Irish family by the name of Eaton. This particular clan was replanted in America by an orphaned boy from Ballyickeen, Ireland, and became a part of the westward expansion. While I have borrowed the family name of Eaton from my mother's side of the family, the characters and events in this series of novels, are entirely a product of my imagination, and no similarity between them and anyone living or passed on, is intended.

    The prior two novels of this series are, Follow The Sun, and Return To Ballyickeen.

    Chapter 1 Welcome to Justin

    The bone-weary rider dismounted and carefully led his tired Appaloosa horse down the muddy trail, as he fought to find their way through the driving rain that had been tormenting them for most of the day. About halfway down the hill, he spotted a large piece of scrap wood someone had nailed to a large Pine tree. Once he got within inches of the tree, the tree limbs deflected enough of the rain to allow him to read the three words someone burned into the piece of wood a long time ago:

    Welcome To Justin

    As he scratched his horse between the ears, the rider said, Come on horse. Lets you and me get on down this hill and see can we find us a dry place to spend the night.

    By the time they reached the bottom of the hill, it was almost dark. The town didn't appear to be much, but the rider had been in the saddle for the majority of the fifteen hours since crawling out of his bedroll that morning. All he asked, was food and water for his horse, and a dry place to pass the night for the both of them.

    The livery stable was the first building on the right as the rider and his horse reached the town of Justin. When the rider dismounted and pounded on the livery door, a short rawboned looking man, who moved with a limp, swung the door open.

    Come on in. I'm Amos Turnbull. It's not a fit night for man nor beast to be on the trail. If you're looking for a place to rest your mount for the night, just head him into the second stall on your right.

    As the rider slipped his horse into the stall, Turnbull said, Travis Futrell runs the General Store. He keeps a few rooms for rent on the second floor. They ain't nothin to brag about, but I guess they beat sleeping on the ground.

    Thanks, the rider said. If it's all the same to you, I'll just sleep on the hay in the same stall as my horse. He gets a mite nervous when he's left alone in a strange place.

    Turnbull nodded and said, That's just fine with me. It's always nice to meet someone that takes care of his horse before himself. Not many gents your age do that anymore. That's quite a horse you have there. He's deserving of good treatment.

    The rider unsaddled his horse, then set the saddlebags, blanket and saddle on the stall door, then turned and shook hands with the livery owner.

    My name is Chance. You're right. Dublin is the best horse I've ever had, and don't expect I'll ever find another quite as good. A friend of our family lives with the Nez Perce now and then, and he traded for this horse, and gave it to me as a birthday present.

    Turnbull's eyes went back and forth from the horse to the rider as he rubbed his chin.

    Your friend must be in pretty good with the Nez Perce. They have always been pretty protective of those Appaloosa horses. Never knew of them to be talked into trading one of them.

    Chance nodded. He's been going up there for so long, that they've made him a member of the tribe, so I guess that made a difference. Anyway, what do I owe you? Besides the stall for the two of us, I'll want grain and water for the horse.

    Pay me in the morning. I'll be up and around before the sun ever comes up. You look pretty much done in. We got one saloon in this town. It's on your left on the next block. The only eating place is right across the street from the saloon. Why don't you go take care of yourself, and I'll see for your horse. Ain't often I get a chance to take care of an animal as fine as this one. Don't you worry about him none. I'll rub him down, and feed and water him like he was my own. You can count on it.

    Chance said, Thanks Mr. Turnbull. I appreciate it. Then, he talked to his horse for a minute to make him feel at ease, then headed back out into the rain in search of the saloon.

    Chapter 2 Stranger Beware

    As was his habit before entering any building, Chance stopped at the saloon door and let his eyes survey the men inside. He was well aware that a stranger in most any town is often more likely to run into trouble, than someone who lives locally. Some of that came from the fact that some folks just didn't trust strangers, while others figure strangers are usually easy marks to rob, beat up, or worse.

    When he stepped inside and pulled off his wet rain slicker and draped it over a table by the door, Chance looked over the three young cowboys drinking at a table on his right. If there was to be trouble, that's where it would come from. A veteran of many frontier town, Chance recognized the signs. For just a moment, he considered turning around and heading over to the cafe to get something to eat, in order to avoid trouble. The problem was, he was dead tired and feeling more than a little irritable. Damn it, he wanted that beer. If they left him alone just long enough to finish that one beer, he would be up and gone before those three trouble makers even realized he had left.

    The bartender was a big barrel chested man with large arms and shoulders, and a face that bore the marks of the battles that tended to go along with running a Saloon.

    Chance walked up to the bar, staying as far to the left as possible, so that he could keep an eye on the cowboys. Looking at the bartender, he asked for a beer, then removed his hat and dropped it onto a nearby chair. When the bartender set his beer down in front of him, Chance paid him, brushed his hair back with his fingers, and said, Thanks. It's been a long day on the trail, and I'm going to enjoy this.

    Keeping his voice low, the bartender said, The cowboys on your right have been building up to trouble. You being a stranger and all, you'll probably draw them like flies to honey.

    After taking a long slow taste of his beer, Chance set the mug down.

    Saw them when I walked in. I just want to mind my own business, finish this one beer, then I'm going across the street and get something to eat. I'm not looking for trouble, but I'm too tired to put up with it.

    Moving back to the other end of the bar, where he could keep an eye on everything, the bartender looked first at the cowboys, then at the stranger, then back to the cowboys again. Shaking his head, he spoke to himself, Those damn fool cowboys don't have any notion as to the kind of man they are building up to taking on. To someone that hadn't learned to read men, the stranger probably looked like an easy touch, especially since they had him outnumbered, three to one.

    There was nothing special in the stranger's appearance at first glance, that made him look dangerous. He was two or three inches shy of reaching six feet tall, and couldn't have weighed a hundred and seventy pounds. Someone taking a closer look might have noticed the muscles in his shoulders, and the signs of great strength in his hands.

    He looked young, probably no more than in his mid twenties, but to a man that knew what to look for, the stranger had the look and the mannerisms of someone that had seen more than his share of trouble.

    The stranger's shirt and pants were sun faded, worn, and ragged in spots. However, his pistol was well cared for, and his holster showed obvious signs of use.

    The bartender said a small prayer that the stranger would finish his beer and leave before the cowboys drank enough liquid courage to go after him. Otherwise, somebody was probably going to die tonight.

    Having seen this kind of situation before, Chance understood why the cowboys would pick him as their target. He was bone tired from riding hard for three days, and hadn't shaved for four. His eyes were red from too little sleep and from straining his eyes while riding through the storm. From head to toe, he looked to be a pretty ragged sight. Because of his appearance, and the fact that he was a stranger in town alone, the cowboys would almost certainly pick him as an easy mark.

    His beer was only half gone when he saw the cowboys scoot their chairs back, and start walking slowly in his direction, with the youngest one leading the way.

    Without seeming to move at all, Chance slipped the leather hook off the hammer of his pistol, and pulled at the weapon just enough to loosen it in the holster.

    Out of the corner of his eye, the stranger saw the bartender ease down to the end of the bar where he was out of the immediate line of vision of the cowboys, and in a good position to defend himself in case of trouble.

    The young well dressed leader of the cowboys walked over to the bar, and stopped about an arms distance from Chance. His two friends halted right behind him and fanned out on both sides. The kid then reached out and tapped Chance on the shoulder.

    You know who I am?

    No, Chance said, I can't say that I do.

    When he realized that was all the response the stranger was going to give him, the kid said, I'm Danny Seaborne. My pa and I own the Bar S ranch.

    Nice to know.

    We've been getting some cattle rustled off our spread.

    Chance took a drink of beer, then set the glass on the bar. Maybe you should put your cattle inside at night.

    When the other men in the saloon laughed, Danny's face turned red. His eyes blazed as he asked, You trying to make me look foolish?

    Nope, he answered, as he turned back to the bar. Reckon you don't need any help there.

    Danny Seaborne grabbed him by the arm and tried to spin him around. When Chance didn't move, the kid planted his feet and took another run at it, but ended up with the same results. After waiting a few seconds, he gave that up and in desperation, issued a loud challenge.

    You look like a rustler to me.

    Keeping his voice at a normal level, Chance asked, Just what does a rustler look like boy?

    Danny was dead set on putting on a performance for his friends and the other local men in the saloon. He had set out to make himself look like a dyed in the wool tough man, so the boy remark stung.

    I know one when I see one, he responded, but his answer was a little too quick and a little too loud to be convincing.

    Looking like he was almost bored, Chance asked, You've seen lots of rustlers have you boy?

    Never mind that. Somebody has been rustling cattle off our spread, and I figure you're one of them. Now, you can either hand over your gun and get hung, or we're going to kill you where you stand. My Pa and I don't tolerate rustlers around here.

    With his expression unchanged, Chance inquired, Well, do you and your Pa think a man ought to be allowed to finish his beer before you kill him?

    The Seaborne boy's eyes scanned the room. He knew that every man in the saloon was watching and making a judgment on what he would say and do in this situation.

    All right stranger. Finish your beer, then I'm serving notice that Danny Seaborne doesn't put up with rustlers.

    Turning back to the bar, Chance picked up his mug of beer, then spun back around and drove the mug into Danny Seaborne's face. The kid dropped to the floor like a rock. Before his two companions could absorb what had happened, the stranger warned them.

    Boys, you don't want to do anything stupid.

    The cowboy on the left answered, You can't kill us both.

    The sound of the bartender cocking back both hammers on his shotgun got everybody's attention. His shotgun was pointed directly at the two cowboys.

    I don't like killings in my saloon. It drives away customers, and I have to mop up the blood. So, you boys get the kid out of here, and don't come back until you are sober and ready to mind your own business. You ever pull anything like this again, and I'll bar you from ever coming back.

    When they picked the kid up off the floor, he was still dazed and struggling to stay on his feet. The cowboy on the left looked at the bartender.

    His pa isn't going to forget your sticking your nose into this.

    His pa knows me, and he knows where to find me, the bartender replied, as he lay the shotgun on the bar.

    After they left, the bartender walked back to where Chance was standing, and poured him a new beer.

    I'm Dave Jensen. This beer's on the house. You didn't get to finish the last one.

    After they shook hands, Chance said, Glad to meet you Dave. I'm Chance Eaton. Thanks for the beer and for stepping in when you did. I surely didn't want to have to kill those boys.

    Dave shook his head as he slipped the shotgun back onto the shelf under the bar.

    Danny's old man was born with the bark on, and doesn't much care who he stomps on to get what he wants, but he's a man that stands up to his own trouble. Danny wants to be feared and respected like his daddy, but he ain't got what it takes. Most likely, he'll get himself killed trying. Was I you, I'd use the back door when I left. You embarrassed Danny in front of his friends. He knows the word will spread around pretty quickly, and he's not the forgiving type. Could be, the three of them might be laying in the shadows, waiting for you to walk out.

    After taking a drink of beer, Chance agreed. That kind of crossed my mind too. I think I'll take you up on that notion. Now, I'm going to go across the street and get some food in my belly.

    Dave said, I believe you got just about enough time to get something to eat before the cafe closes. They open again for breakfast around five in the morning.

    Chance waved, picked up his rain slicker, then slipped out the back door and made his way around to the cafe. When he walked through the door, a voice called out from the kitchen.

    You made it just in time. With all this rain, there hasn't been any business in the last couple of hours, so I've started closing down, but come on in. I have work to do that will keep me busy while you eat. Gotta tell you though, there ain't much of a selection of food left tonight.

    Noticing a make shift coat rack by the door, Chance pulled off his slicker and dropped it on the rack, before taking a seat at one of the tables.

    Mister, he said, Other than a bit of cold flour, I haven't had a thing to eat since before sun up. Whatever you've got, bring it out.

    When the food came out, it was carried by a man with a short beard, and a half bald head of hair. He set the food down in front of Chance, and smiled.

    Howdy. Name's London Lane. I do some of the cooking and a lot of the cleaning up. Molly runs the place, but with nothing going on, she took off a couple of hours ago. She oughta do that more. That girl works too long and too hard. Going to make an old woman out of her before her time.

    Thanks London, Chance replied. Interesting name, London. Did you used to live there?

    Naw, the cook answered. Farthest east I've ever been is Indiana. According to my daddy, my mother was always fascinated by the stories she had heard about London and Paris.. Guess she knew that she would never get to see either one, so she named me London. Daddy said she was saving Paris for a daughter, but she died from the fever a year after I was born."

    London Lane seemed like he would be an interesting fellow to talk with for an hour or two, but Chance was hungry, and he didn't want the food to get cold, so he thanked London, and without saying another word, started in on his supper. Fifteen minutes later, his plate and coffee cup were empty. Chance paid his bill, waved goodbye, and headed back to the livery stable for the night.

    Chapter 3 Molly McMurphy

    After feeding his horse the next morning, Chance opened the livery door and was happy to see the rain was gone. The cafe was already open when Chance arrived at the front door. Stepping inside, he noticed the only customer was the man from the livery stable, Amos Turnbull. When Chance started to sit at a table nearby Turnbull's, the livery man spoke up.

    Ain’t no sense dirty'n up another table. Sit here, if you're of a mind to. Molly is in the kitchen. She'll be along directly.

    Chance thanked him and took a chair at Turnbull's table. In less than a minute, a girl emerged from the kitchen carrying a coffee pot and one cup, as she walked toward their table. After the girl filled Chance's cup with coffee, and warmed up Turnbull's coffee, the livery operator looked up at the girl, and said Molly McMurphy, meet Chance. Don't know if he has a last name or not. He just told me the one name.

    Turnbull was talking, and the girl was listening, but Chance didn't hear a word the livery man said. He couldn't seem to get his eyes off the girl. This was not the first pretty girl Chance had encountered in his twenty six years of life, but something about this one, grabbed his attention unlike anything he had ever experienced.

    She appeared to be built well, had long red hair, sparkling hazel eyes, and a smile so bright and warm that he was sure it would probably melt a five foot snow drift. Still, it was more than her looks that had set him back on his heels. She was looking at him in a way that he didn't think any other girl had ever looked at him before. He wasn't quite sure just what that meant, but it sure felt nice.

    Molly looked at Turnbull, and said, Well Amos Turnbull, your friend is still asleep I'm thinking, either that, or the lad doesn't even know his own name.

    At that point, Chance said, I'm sorry ma'am. I got distracted for a moment. Like Mr. Turnbull said, my name is Chance. Chance Eaton, that is. I'm most glad to meet you ma'am.

    With her hazel eyes dancing with amusement, she replied, Well Chance Eaton, if it be in your mind to get along with me, you best be remembering that my name is Molly, not ma'am. Now, did ya come here to talk or to eat? Perhaps you have nothing else to do, but I'm a woman that works for her keep, so I'll be asking you to make up your mind, or leave.

    Grinning sheepishly, Chance ordered biscuits and gravy. Amos Turnbull did the same. After Molly returned to the kitchen, Amos set his coffee cup down and said, "Now, don't get too flustered by Molly giving you a bit of a hard time. As you noticed, she's

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