We offer you... Escape! Escape with us now to the Old West and the unusual story of a merciless professional killer as Ernest Haycox tells it in Wild Jack Rett. Red Mesa A little town springing out of the hot dry prairie beside the Chisholm Trail. A saloon, a hotel, two general stores, and a tiny church where the decent citizenry might pray for salvation while a wilder element, trail driver, teamster, and buffalo hunter, restlessly searched out friend and enemy along the dusty main street. A small hill rose on the western edge of Red Mesa, plagued with a rash of graves, some marked and cared for, others sinking and forgotten. Men and it's born of woman has but a short time to live and is full of misery. He cometh up and is cut down like a flower. He flyeth as it were a shadow. While we're praying a couple of you boys start throwing some dirt on the sheriff. Oh Lord with whom do live the spirits of them that be dead and in whom the souls of them. And that same evening a committee of the leading citizens of Red Mesa gathered together at Mayor Wayne's home to decide upon a new sheriff. All right gentlemen sit down and let's get this settled. Gentlemen to make this town a decent place for our women folk and children we've got to have a sheriff Todd Mallon and his kind can't kill. We need the toughest gunfighter available and I want to propose... Just a minute Mayor Wayne let me speak. All right go ahead boy Allen. I don't think we should get all upset just because we lost another sheriff. Jim Speed worked out fine for Red Mesa. All we need is another sheriff just about like him. I expected that boy Allen. All you look out for is to keep that saloon of yours full of anybody who'll buy whiskey and gamble. I still propose we reform this town by sending for a man some of you may have heard of. Jack Ritt. Gentlemen I do want my saloon full and full of the only men who'll bring any money at all into Red Mesa. Cow punchers coming up the Chisholm Trail with Texas cattle. Thirsty men on the prod from a long drive. But you give them Jack Ritt instead of a little fun and this town will go broke. We'll chance that boy Allen. We'll chance that. What about Matt Travener what's he got to say? I have nothing to say gentlemen. As U.S. Deputy Marshall for the district my job is strictly outside Red Mesa. You ruin your town any way you like. I'll handle the surrounding territory. Know anything about Jack Ritt Travener? Just by reputation. Professional town tamer. And I've heard he's the most cold blooded killer ever drew a gun. Ravner's right. We can't afford a man like that here. Let's put it to a vote gentlemen. All in favor of sending for Jack Ritt raise their right hand. Five to one. The matter is settled gentlemen. Good night. Good night. You'll wait to see Mary Travener? If you don't mind Mayor. Of course. Sit down. She'll be out in a minute. Well. Boy Allen was pretty mad. After Jack Ritt is here for a while at least there'll be less gun fighting. There'll be less anyway if Todd Mellon were out of the way. That's a bad example. He's a hard man to catch. Well if you can't Travener. There's just too much territory around here for Mellon and his gang to lose themselves in. He'd have to be taken by a town officer. And I think Ritt is the man to do it. If Mellon comes to town again. He'll come Mayor. The word gets out that Ritt is sheriff here. Mellon will have to face him or lose his reputation with his own men. Good evening Father. Hello Matt. Good evening. Hello darling. Well Matt Travener aren't you going to kiss me? Of course. Sure. Here. Mary. What a shameless wench you are. Oh Father you're old fashioned. After all we're engaged. Your mother God rest her soul didn't behave like that when we were engaged. The war changed things Father. I know. But not for the better. Well I'm off to bed. Don't stay up too late now. Good night. Good night Father. You look worried Matt. Do I? Tell me about it. Well it's just that they're sending for a new sheriff. A legal killer named Rett. He has quite a reputation and there will always be men to challenge him. That means more gun fighting. Is that it? I'm afraid so. It's a bloody way to peace Mary. I know. Let's not worry about it now. Come on. I'll pick some coffee for us. Three weeks later, Wild Jack Rett rode into Red Mesa. He was 38 and at the peak of his reputation. He stood well over six feet, better than 200 pound of plain sinew. Tawny blonde hair grew long in the frontier style. And his features, fair and tinted like a girl's, were boldly acquiling. He was a picturesque young man, and he was a very good man. But the girls were boldly acquiling. He was a picturesque man, till one looked at his eyes, which were large and pale blue. And had the disconcerting trick of remaining too steadily on people. There was to be seen in him the suggestion of inhumanity. He sent word to the committee that he'd meet him at the mayor's office that evening. It's eight o'clock now. Where is he? He's down and that's bad enough. Here's sport boy, Helen. We took a fair vote on Rett. Here he comes now. My name is Jack Rett. I have your offer. I'm Peter Wayne, mayor of Red Mesa. Do you accept it? Depends on what you want. Tell me. Rett, this is a difficult town. Chisholm Trail lies just across the river, and we get most of our money from the riders passing through with Texas cattle. Now we want them to have a decent time with their money, but we don't like a lot of gunplay and killing. I have always been accustomed to complete authority, mayor. I presume to know my job and I won't have interference. That's agreed, Rett. By the way, the last sheriff had a rule that riders leave their hardware at his office. He had trouble enforcing it. A poor rule. Let them pack their guns. That gives the wild ones a fair chance at you. I never give a man a fair chance at me. Is that all, gentlemen? The New York City Bar Bo Helen's saloon was the usual deadfall, with a huge bar along one side of the room and gaming tables toward the rear. Next morning, Bo Helen stood tap in the mahogany of the bar with his fingertips, staring thoughtfully at nothing. Good morning, Bo Helen. It's noon, Samus. Oh, sure. Draw me a beer, Mike. Where's the new sheriff, Bo Helen? Over there at the corner table. Came in just before you did. Barkeep, bring me a cigar and a glass of rye. Now he's going to clean and reload his six guns, one at a time. My God, he is. How'd you know? It's an old gunman's trick to impress the citizens. But there's no one here except you and me. Then it's to impress me. Don't think... Well, good-bye, Bo Helen, Mike. You've got something to say to me, Bo Helen? Yes, yes, I have. You're smart, Red. I recognize that. But your record for killing is too severe, and my business depends on an open town. Now, the reform element got you, and I'll go along for now. But just remember one thing. I can break you, Red, any time. I was waiting for that, Bo Helen. Well, then I guess we understand each other. Hello. Oh, any luck, Matt? Just a morning's ride. Matt, here's Jack Red. Red, this is Mack Traven, a U.S. deputy marshal for the district. Glad to know you, Red. You're young. Don't be misled. Red, your job is in town, mine is everything outside. So I'll either back you up here in Red Mesa or leave you strictly alone. I'll handle Red Mason. All right. One more thing. I want Todd Mallon. If he comes to town again, he'll have to be taken. Will you do that or shall I? What is he? Outlaw? Mainline is plain robbery. Now I want him for killing Jim Speed. Let me handle Mallon. Why? Killing's my trade. Man doesn't live with enough animal instinct to get me. Maybe. Killing you would build a man's reputation considerable. Just so? Well, good luck, Red. There was peace for a full week in Red Mesa, and then on Saturday night, Matt Travener's prediction came true. Jack Ratt was at his customary post just opposite Bohel and Saloon, in a chair on the porch of the Chinook Hotel, obscured by the shadows and watching the crowd, his cold, pale eyes half concealed by cigar-cigarettes. Jack Ratt was at his customary post just opposite Bohel and Saloon, his cold, pale eyes half concealed by cigar-cigarettes. Trouble found him thus. Good evening, Sheriff. Good evening, ma'am. Eating an eye on the boys, huh? Oh, shoot! Where's the sweat that used to be in Abilene? Where's he hiding? Where's that great man Wild Jack Ratt? Bring him out! Hello, cowboy. That's a lot of killing for one sheriff. Three men. I don't like it. Forget it, friend. Have a drink and forget it. You're Bohelan, ain't you? That's right. Come on, now. Have one on the house. Now, Mike, fix him up. I can pay for my liquor. You never gave him a chance. What kind of sheriff you got stands in a shot and kills one man, and then jumps 50 feet from his gun flash and shoots down two more? Those boys never had a chance at him. Just drink your drink, cowboy. That was the most merciless killing I ever seen. He's a butcher. I wish I'd gunned him. Shut up! This is my game. They were fools to play it. Never buck a man who spent his life learning to kill, son. Get out of town. Get out now. Red? What if I... Don't try it, son. Don't let your anger destroy you. Go on. Drift. Blast your town. I can hold my thirst another 200 miles up the trail. Come on, boys. We'll send word back to Texas to go around, Red Mason. Let it dry to powder. It won't do, Red. It'll do, Bohelan. Barkeeper, bring me a glass of rye on the house. Red stood with his back to the bar, holding his drink and a thin black cigar carefully in one hand. He stood there for about 10 minutes. Then trouble came again. He's fighting it with four men. Close the games. Open up the back doors. Well, Jack Wreck, now let's see you shoot down Todd Mallon and four men from the shadows. Good night, Bohelan. When word came to Bohelan's saloon that Todd Mallon was riding into Red Mesa with four men, Jack Wreck simply walked out, crossed the street to his office, sat down and waited. Twenty minutes later, Todd Mallon had arrived and departed, not a shot fired. Then Jack Wreck went quietly to bed. But early Sunday morning, he was back in his office. Come in. Morning, Red. Well, Travener? There's talk, Red. I expect that. Now, Red, you told me you'd handle Mallon if he came to town. Yes, Travener. Well, they say Mallon rode into town last night with four men, rode right up to this office, got down, came inside. That you and he stood here with this desk between you talking. And then a few minutes later, Mallon left and rode out of town. I play the game my own way, Travener. And I don't want interference from anybody. People are saying maybe you and Mallon made a deal of some kind. Well, now, somebody's breaking the Sabbath. Know who it could be, Travener? No, I don't. Well, it's a rifle. Sounds like one of those seven shot Spencers. Well, it's old Hack Crow. Who is he? An old trapper. Comes to town every few months, sells his furs, gets drunk, goes a little crazy. Jim Speed always laid him away in jail to sober. Well, I'll take a look. You better stop him, Rapp. He's only got two shots left. That'll satisfy him. I doubt if he'll reload. And if he notices us and decides to shoot? Then I'll have to kill him. Hey, who's that coming out of Bo Helland? Ewald Fay, gambler. He's a fool. He's getting his horse. You gonna stop him, Red? No, let him go. Red, the town is your territory and I won't interfere. But why did you refuse a fair shot at Hack Crow? Ewald Fay is dead. Which is the more useful citizen, Travener? Crow or Bay? West is full of gamblers. There was considerable talk that day in Red Mesa over Jack Ratt's aloof and cruel calm in condoning a shooting that had occurred under his very eyes and within reach of his formidable guns. Then, mid-afternoon, a rider came up from the prairie and reported finding old Hack Crow dead in a coolie. Dry gulched and robbed. Mayor Wayne heard about it and went to Bo Helland's saloon to hear more. Well, good evening, Mayor. Hello, Bo Helland. I'm Dr. Brandy. And what do you think your great Jack Ratt now, Mayor? It looks bad. Now, look, Mayor, everyone knew Hack Crow carried his profits in his pocket. Always did that. So Red allowed him to leave and Todd Mallon, his men, were waiting for him in the coolie. It's as simple as that. You have no proof of that, Bo Helland. No? And why didn't Ratt take Mallon when he rode in here last night? Because they made a business arrangement, that's why. Well, it doesn't look good, but shh. There's Ratt now. Barkeep, glass of rye. I don't want to talk to him yet. I'm leaving. Good night, Bo Helland. Good night, Mayor. Now, Mike, give me that rye. I'll take it over to Sheriff myself. Here's your drink, Sheriff. Mind if I sit down? Game never changes, Bo Helland. I know what you're going to say. I warned you, I could break you, Red. It's an old story to me. Every town's got one insider who plays along with the outlaws. I knew you to be that one here when I first saw you. Running a saloon, you'd know when a cattle buyer was riding out of town carrying a specie, when the overland stage was loaded with gold. There was a quarrel over the split of profits between you and Mallon. You fell apart. That's always the way. Very shrewd, Red. It's an old story, Bo Helland. I know it by heart. Very shrewd. But you can't play the same game. All sheriffs are supposed to be crooked. You and Mallon had an agreeable little chat last night. Did he make you a good offer, Red? Maybe I should accept his offer, Bo Helland, just to keep you two split. Maybe I should do that. Red, I've seen sheriffs come and go. It's a chancey trade. Sheriffs die. They all die. It's only a question of time. You're a hard one, Jack, Red. You might make your peace with Mallon, but it'll have to be that way, otherwise you'll have little chance of getting rid of me, Bo Helland. It may be that way. I wouldn't be surprised. I always expect the worst of men, and I'm seldom disappointed. It was turning dark as Jack Red left Bo Helland's saloon. Crossing the street, he walked into his office, but continued on out through the back door. A few minutes later, he stood in the gathering shadows opposite the O.K. Stable and watched Bo Helland ride out and drift into the prairie to the south. He knew now what to expect. It would happen soon, perhaps tomorrow. He returned to his office and slept the night there. I'm in. Well, morning. Red, I want you to meet Mary Wayne. Miss Wayne, very proud. I wanted to know you. To meet him, Mary, not to know him. Red lives in a closed world. You see that? I have no friends. We're to be married on Thursday, Mr. Red. I should like you to be there. I'd be most happy. Thank you. Now, Mary, would you wait outside? I've got some business to discuss in the share. Of course, Matt, but don't be long. Goodbye, Mr. Red. Bye, Miss Wayne. Red, this afternoon I'm leaving to find Todd Mallon. You had your chance, but you let him go. Wait, Travener. Wait. I've tried patience, Red, and I'm a poor hand at it. Travener, you have a fine girl. If it's not presuming, let me congratulate you. Compliment her. Thank you. Was that all? I'll take care of Mallon. Give me a little time. It's my job. Red, I want to believe you. No man wearing a star should believe anybody. It's a weakness, haven't I told you? Lest if I quite understand you, Red, understand this. Every man has his time. When it comes, he knows it. There's no turning back. Nothing makes any difference then, except to stand up to the finish and go. Go out in decent style. And yet you're the man who never believes and give another man a break. Don't try to understand me. You want help with Mallon? I have no faith in help. Coming, Mary. Wait, Travener. I'll suggest this much. Take one man, right due north to where the cattle trail crosses Tempus Creek. Be there tonight. Understand? Red, I'd hate to oppose you. If you did, you'd lose. I've been 15 years at this, Travener, which is five years beyond average luck. That evening, Jack Rapp took up his post on the porch of the Chinook Hotel, dressed in his best, a hard white shirt, a blood red winter tie, and a suit of black broadcloth swelling around the big, uncompromising shoulders. He sat there calm behind the smoke of his cigar, waiting. Full moon tonight, Sheriff. That's right. No offense, mind you. Good evening, Red. Hello, Mayor Wayne. Mayor, have you seen Travener? He rode north this afternoon. He'll be back tomorrow, he said. Good. Where's the sheriff? Here I am. Red, listen, I just came up South Creek and Todd Mallon and six men were only a quarter mile behind me, heading into town. All right, friend. Take cover. Yeah, yeah, sure. Red stood up and moved into the shadow at the end of the hotel porch. Across the street, Bo Helen appeared in the full glow of the doorway of his saloon. I'm out in the dark to meet your friends, Jack, Red. What are you afraid of? It's only Mallon riding in to see you. Thieves fall out. But the urge for profits brings them together again. You should have known it, Red. Nothing surprises me. Oh, there you are, Red. I'm proud to find you exposing your great reputation out there in the middle of the street. Every man has his time. You want to try it, Bo Helen? Or will you wait for help? I'll wait. The arriving horses came up into the moonlit street and hauled it at the corner of the saloon. Bo Helen's hand lifted toward the group. And at that order, the horsemen spread out until they were flank to flank all across the street. Todd Mallon advanced from the line and stopped, square and alert above the saddle. Jack Red stood alone in the middle of the street, his eyes flashing a hard jury. Then he dropped his cigar and ground it beneath the boot. It was a final gesture. Are you, Mallon? Goodbye, gentlemen. Next day, Red Mesa buried some more men out on the hill and talked of Jack Red, who was more of a mystery to them now than when living, to all of them but one, Matt Travener. Nobody knows a killer's world, Mary. Wasn't any room in Jack Red for much pity. But he sent me away to save me from what he knew was coming. I think that was a kindness, although I had no fear. It was a fine thing for him to do, Matt. But they say he stood in the middle of the street, faced them all in the moonlight. Why? It wasn't his style. As long as he was sure of himself, he never gave anybody an even chance, Mary. But killers live and die by instinct. And somewheres along the evening, he got the warning. After that, it was just a matter of pride. He killed Mallon and Bo Helland before he died, standing up and in good style. And that's sort of a greatness, isn't it? Under the direction of Norman MacDonald, Escape has brought you Wild Jack Red by Ernest Haycox, especially adapted for radio by John Meston. Jack Red was played by John Daner with Larry Dubkin as Matt and Lou Krugman as Bo Helland. Parley Bear was the narrator. Featured in the cast were Junius Matthews, Russell Simpson, Gene Bates, Paul Dubov, and Sam Edwards. The special music for Escape was composed and conducted by Ivan Dittmar. BANG BANG BANG BANG
