May 28, 2018
Don Schoenau, GPPHA President, A Peek at the Peak Editor
Prologue
Back in the 1990s, Don Shoenau loved learning and writing about the colorful characters that were attracted to the area in the ”old days” before the area became so civilized. This article about a wild west woman who could outshoot any outlaw, moonshiner or poacher she encountered was originally published in the November 1998 issue of The Peak. It was re-published in October 2000 issue following Don’s death in August 2000. Back in those days, The Peak was printed in black & white, so I’ve added a few images and added subheadings to make it easier to read online. We are forever indebted to Don for taking the time to capture the adventures of Six-Gun Katie, a.k.a. Cattle Kate and Catherine. Editor
Six-Gun Katie
by Don Schoenau
Catherine was in her early 40s and had raised a daughter before she stepped into her Buick touring car one morning, and drove away from Des Moines, Iowa to visit the Far West. She finally settled in Cave Creek, married a man by the name of Elliot and had a daughter named Vera. They homesteaded 160 acres in 1928 and named the ranch Cahava, which was an Indian term meaning “always water.” Apparently ranching was not for Elliot and he left Catherine and headed for California while she continued to run the ranch. About that time, she Ed took up another 640-acre homestead that was next to one a TB Jones had recently homesteaded.
Six-Gun Katie
Theodore Jones or Ted as he was called, came from Rochester, New York to Cave Creek in 1904. He was 34 years old. He caught rides on Wells Fargo express trains and said that he “came West to find adventure and a million dollars in gold.” He found plenty of adventure, but little gold.
When he first appeared in the Cave Creek area and on the creek, he was known as Mysterious Jones. He had acquired several mining claims and gave them all family names. At that time, there were three families living in Cave Creek, and Phoenix had two business streets. He left the area about the time of World War I and came back years later and returned to ranching and raising cattle.
Homesteading Two Sections
Catherine, 10 years younger than Ted, married him some time after his return. They homesteaded two sections north of Cave Creek in the 1920s. She did her part and more as a pioneer wife. They acquired a couple of horses and learned to ride. Catherine got up at dawn, strapped on her trusty .38 and was ready for the day. She became an experienced ranch hand and often handled the entire operation by herself. They had two running springs on the ranch which were tailor-made for the frantic antics of an invading horde of moonshiners.
Catherine was a hot-shot at the age of 12. She watched her grandfather show a man how to shoot one day and asked him to let her try, but her grandfather refused. The next day grandpa went to town and Catherine found the gun, returned to the target and hit the center the first time. From then on it was constant practice!
Water Attracts Company
When she came to Arizona she wore western dress, Stetson hats and cowboy boots. At just five feet tall, she guarded the ranch against all intruders. Cattle Kate, as she was often called, once caught a moonshiner at her spring and warned the man off, at the point of her gun. “Oh, come on,” he said, “you wouldn’t use that on me, would you?” She did and the man lost a piece of his ear.
Another tale is about when she stopped two tough men who were about to take over one of her springs for a still. “I was on my black pony, Apache, and they were facing me on their horses across the arroyo,“ she recalled. They said that they were coming on my land, and I told them they were not. But one of them said, “Who’s to stop us?” “Just then a little chipmunk ran across in front of them and I drew and shot it through the head. The men and I looked at each other for a few more seconds, then they turned their horses and rode away.”
Another story is about the day she caught some quail hunters. One had shot a bird on her side of the fence. She reprimanded him, and as he made a motion to climb over the fence to get the bird, she said “Don’t you touch that fence.” He paused, looked at her and put his hand on the fence. Immediately, she shot and clipped a finger. He said “you didn’t need to do that.” She replied, “I warned you not to put your hand on that fence.” He didn’t argue with her anymore and left.
Mysterious Tire Tracks
On another occasion, Kate was puzzled over the great number of tire tracks that were coming into the ranch, too many of them to be accounted for by moonlight picnickers or other visitors. Kate thought about the situation and rode out the next day for a closer look. In a shallow drift just off the entrance to an old mine shaft, a working still was set up. It had all the equipment needed for a commercial operation.
Cave Creek
According to Catherine, she waited until sundown, and when the owners returned from town, she confronted them, gun in hand. She advised them that if they valued their hides they would have to clear out and be gone within 24 hours and never set foot on Cahava property again. As to what followed there were many versions, including a shootout in which one man was wounded, and the other left on foot.
The Joneses took to patrolling the ranch, but with little success, until they were commissioned game wardens. A couple of men had shot a deer near the ranch and hid it in the mouth of an old mine, before they went back to get their car to load the deer. What they didn’t know was that it was one of Jones’ old mines. When they returned, he was sitting on the deer. The result was that the deer and their guns were taken away from them and a fine was levied against them.
Another favorite story was when Cattle Kate was one of two deputy sheriffs in the area. She looked so comical. She was a little thing, barely five feet tall and she wore two big six-guns all of the time. The other deputy was a big fellow, over six feet tall and as wide as he was high. Well, one day he killed a deer out of season and Catherine found out. She told him that she was going to take him in. He argued awhile and finally said all right, he’d get ready and go down with her tomorrow. “You’ll get ready and go down now,” she told him.
Simple Life
Life on the ranch was simple, even though they were people of education. Theodore built a ramada, which he had copied from the summer shelters of the Pima Indians. It was just a roof supported by a timbered framework, and open to the weather on all sides. It was furnished with rustic chairs and tables, chests for storage and a walk-in cage for several families of parakeets. In the center stood a cylinder cooler, and canvas-covered beds.
Later on, they built a home that was furnished with an unlikely mixture of modern oak and museum pieces of walnut rosewood, and mahogany from Theodore’s ancestral home in the Scottish Highlands. The living room was a private gallery with oil paintings, pastels, pencil sketches, etchings and photographs covering the entire wall space. Indian relics that Catherine collected on her many rides over the desert were also showcased.
Ted refused electricity and telephones claiming that he came West from New York to get away from things like that. They spent the summers under the roof of an outdoor pavilion, with their beds mounted high on blocks to keep away from the rattlesnakes. Together they claimed that they had killed over one thousand rattlesnakes.
Cave on Cave Creek
Catherine was a sure shot with or without a gun. According to Janet Roberts, “we were seated at the outdoor table polishing off a cowboy meal of steak, beans, and biscuits, when I sensed a movement. I turned to see a fox carrying a half-grown chicken, cutting across the corner of the yard. Catherine saw it too, grabbed a skillet and let fly, catching the fox in midair just as he was clearing the gate. The chicken was dazed but unhurt, recovered and ran squawking to the safety of the chicken pen. The fox regained his equilibrium in time to be toppled by a bullet. “This will teach me to keep my gun within reach, not hanging on post ten feet away,” said Catherine.
Theodore Jones bought a Model-T Ford car when they came off the delivery line. He never learned to drive, but Catherine did. They made a trip to Phoenix one day each week dressed in their Western finery. Catherine was so small that she had to look through the spokes of the steering wheel. Everyone laughed about her habit of driving fast. They would see a cloud of dust coming in the distance and clear the way for her.
Picnic in Phoenix
Last, but not least, this tale involves no guns. One Sunday a group from Phoenix set up quite a picnic spread not far from her house. “Right in my front yard she said. When they were asked to leave, “they were not very nice” to her. They took their time about it and scattered picnic garbage, cans and beer bottles around when they left. Kate didn’t say anything, but she had taken their car’s license number.
The following day she drove to Phoenix and got their names and addresses from state authorities. The following Sunday, having gathered up all that picnic garbage, she drove to Phoenix, found where they lived in the new, beautiful Palmcroft district. She calmly drove up onto their manicured lawn and spread out a picnic of her own. In the process, she scattered all of the collected garbage over the fancy lawn.
When the irate owners stormed down upon her with, “What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” She calmly replied, “Why I’m just returning the call you paid me at my home in Cave Creek, and I brought along some of the things that you forgot to take with you, as well as some of my own.” With that she politely got up, drove across their lawn, and came back home.
Thank You. The Stories Live On.
Ted’s health failed and he died in 1961. Catherine continued to ranch and installed inside plumbing and electricity. She later had a telephone put in. She had a longing for some of the finer things in life, and the fingers that use to pull a trigger were now used to paint and write poetry. Finally, at age 85, she gave up ranching and stayed with her daughter in California. She passed away in 1970 in California. Six-gun Katies’ legend lives on, as one of the pioneers of early Cave Creek.
This story would not have been possible without the help of Jo Ann Stuckey, director of the Cave Creek Museum, who provided me with countless clippings and a photo of Catherine. Credits also go to Irene Scruggs, Beverly Brooks, Gene Garrison, Rod Johnson and many others.
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