Joseph Brannin. When I hear his name I see a handsome young man with thick black coarse curly hair, black eyes, with prominent Spanish features. I see a man of confidence and compassion with a sense of justice. I see someone who is dedicated to family, an overseer, and one who gives unconditionally.
When the family made their exodus to Montana, Joe is the one who kept the record of their trip. He is the one who made sure the family was cared for. He helped his oldest sister buy a farm. He made arrangements for his younger sisters to get their education. He made sure they had music lessons. He gave his baby sister her beloved doll. Joe brought life and a touch of refinement to the mountains. He was the musician in the family, playing the violin.
Though I think of all those things, the name Joe Brannin means something else. The name speaks of death, sorrow, and injustice. Joe, the sheriff’s deputy, was killed in the line of duty. Mel Jowell, who led a life of thievery and rustling, had just been released from prison for his crime of rustling and altering brands. He quickly broke probation. When Mel Jowell came to town, you can bet there was trouble brewing. Joe was sent to pick up Mel for questioning about some stolen stock. Joe went to the bar to get Jowell but Deputy Brannin didn’t leave alive.
Jowell was on the run. Many of his steps can be retraced through eyewitness accounts, court records and various documents. He died in Texas at the age of 85, having fathered at least 5 children. Joe Brannin, provider and caregiver of the family, full of life, hopes and dreams, died at the tender age of 27.
Joe Brannin “was a young man of exceptional character, clean and upright.” Uncle Joe remains endeared to many as his legacy passes to us and demands that his story be retold to future generations.
