Frontier Town, the saga of the roaring west. Frontier Town. El Paso, Cheyenne, Calgary, Tombstone. Frontier Town. Here is the adventurous story of the early west. The tamed and the untamed. From the Pecos to Powder River, Dodge City to Poker Flat. These are the towns they fought to live in and lived to fight for. Teeming crucibles of pioneer freedom. Frontier Town. Howdy. I'm Chad Remington, a frontier lawyer. Now, a cow town lawyer doesn't get too many cases. And those he does get usually pay slowly, if at all. And that's one reason why I have my so-called offices up over the Dos Rios livery stables, which are owned by an ex-medicine man, Cherokee O'Bannon. Well, what I'm getting at is this. After the run of broken down and non-paying clients I've had, it was a real pleasure when Dave Buckley and his mother from over in the painted horse country came to see me along with Lieutenant Colonel Harvey, supply officer for all the United States troops in our territory. Even Cherokee was impressed. Colonel, do you mind if I ask you a question? A very personal question? No, not at all, O'Bannon. What is it? Is all that braid on your sleeve genuine gold? Oh, no, no, I'm afraid not. Even if it were Cherokee, you couldn't snip enough off it to buy a bottle of Kentucky's best. How disappointing. How very disappointing. And now, what do you say if we get down to business, hmm? I gather you have a contract you want me to look over. Is that right, Dave? Oh, yeah, Chad, though maybe Ma could tell you more about it. Why in tarnation thunder should I do it? I spent the last 20 odd years bringing you up to learn something. From what I can see, you've done a pretty good job, Ma. In fact, that's what anyone would expect out here from a member of Ma Buckley's family. Yes, indeed, yes, indeed. When I first met Ma, Dave here wasn't more knee-high to a grasshopper. She was selling a gallon jug of something she made herself for six bits, five cents back when you returned the empty bottle. I'm not ashamed of it. With four children to raise, a woman's got to do anything. Well, you certainly have done well, Mrs. Buckley, or else we wouldn't be here now. Not meaning to seem inquisitive, but would someone be good enough to tell me just what the nature of this contract is you want me to look over? Well, the long and short of it's just this, Chad. We're entering into a contract with the Army to supply them with beef. And the contract runs three years. Well, I'd say that's a great deal, providing the prices all right. Well, the price is more than fair, Remington. Yeah, Chad, we got no complaint at all on the price. Well, they'll only catch the whole blasted contract as the money we lose if we don't deliver the cattle. Well, that's normal, Ma. The government usually puts some forfeiture clause in any contract to cover non-delivery. Is there a schedule in the contract? How many head are you supposed to deliver and at what times? They're supposed to deliver a thousand head at once, and then 50 head every two weeks for the remainder of the three years. Say, this is big business. Where are you hoping to get all that cattle, Ma? Oh, that's Dave's job. Starting the mountain business for himself here with the first thousand head. We'll get the cattle, Chad. I got that pretty well arranged now. With Ma's help, of course. All right. I guess you better let me have the contract. Yes, here you are, Remington. It's in Kedrupikut. Well, Chad's pursuing that legal document, Ma. Tell me one thing, you still got that recipe for that wild panther juice you used to make? You'll reprimand you. I'll tell you what I'll do with you, old man. What's that, Ma? I'll trade you my recipe for drinking liquor if you'll give me your recipe for that rattlesnake oil you used to peddle. Ma'am, you're asking the impossible. I got that recipe from an old Indian on my sacred pledge never to reveal it. Old Indian? What old Indian? Why, a certain bull, of course, because that formula is 95% bull, and if you have the misfortune to drink any of it, you'll spend the next week sitting down. That's just what I thought, you old fake. What about that contract, Chad? Is it all right? Well, it certainly seems to be, Dave. Except I must warn you that if you fail to meet any of these delivery dates, not only does the contract expire, but you forfeit $10,000, and $10,000 is a whale of a lot of money. Now, we'll do the worrying about that, Chad. If we can't raise it, then that'll be something for Uncle Sam to worry about. It's a funny thing. As much as a lawyer will do to protect his client, there are so many factors which, not written on paper, can blow a contract higher than a kite. And in the case of Ma and Dave Buckley, I soon learned there was one fact that nobody could have thought of. Not more than a week after the contract with the Army had been signed in my office, Dave Buckley, who was out rounding up cattle, suddenly saw something which caused him to rake his spurs over his pony's flanks, and come racing home. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Ma? Ma, where are you? What in the world happened to you, David, pack rat, get down your boot top? Ma, this is awful, awful. I was just riding up over Bald Hill, and what do you think I saw coming through that pass down below? Now, how, lazy, should I know what you saw? Sheep. That's what I saw, sheep. Thousands of the filthy gray critters. Sheep are coming here? They must be coming in here. They're heading right this way. Sheep, hey, they ain't coming in here, baby boy. They got no right to trail their sheep through cattle country. What can we do? It is open range. Yeah, well, it's going to be closed range then. We're going to close it with whatever shotgun, rifle, and six gun we can lay hand to. Ma, Ma, we can't. We can't take the law into our own hands. We can't, eh? Well, we got the law on our hands right now. We got that dead blasted contract we signed with the Army, and that's law too. Them sheep come through here and eat off our feed, we'll lose everything we've got. Everything I've worked more than 30 years for. Well, you do what you want. For me, I'm sending a telegram to Chad Remington. I'm not going to be shot down or see my neighbors shot down just because of a lot of no good double dealing sheep herders. Hey, Perro. Perro, come here. Hey, boy, you called me? You're going right, I called you. Now, look, Perro, I'm taking my horse and riding up over that hill. I want to have a look at Painted Horse Valley that's on the other side of it. Well, Senor Braulins, I have seen Painted Horse Valley many times, and I tell you there is much grass there. Some places grass almost shoulder high. Sure, sure, I know. But now that we're this close, I want to see it myself. Now, you and the boys keep them sheep moving, understand? Sí, sí, senor. But you know, I think it is much better if you do not show yourself yet. This cattle ranch, hombres, I don't know, they can smell sheep. I know my rights. Look it up, too. At their land's government land. And we don't have to take nothing from any cattle ranchers. Sí, senor, sí, but maybe you make the trouble. Well, ain't that too bad. Now, look, Perro, my sheep are going to feed in Painted Horse Valley even if we have to turn that green grass red with blood before they get to it. If anything happens, well, I'm gone. Don't ask no questions. Just blast away. Get out of here! Sacrilegious. Maybe this grass do turn red with blood. Now, hold on, Mar, the way you're talking, you'll have Painted Horse Valley up in arms and a range war started before sunup. Your doggone dad blame right, I will. No moth-eating mangy sheep herders are driving sheep across my land. Don't you see, Chad, if they just ate the grass, it would be bad enough, but sheep have sharp hooves that dig up the roots and they'll take years before it grows again. Chad, isn't there something we can do without going for our guns? If your neighbors feel like your mother does, Dave, I'm afraid not. But if you'll give me a chance to go out and talk to the man who owns the sheep, well, there's just the possibility we might be able to come to terms. Terms? Ha! Not a good talking's gonna do. Mar, Mar, you've worked 30 years, you said, to get to the point you're at today. Now you're almost on easy street with a contract with the government. If you start flying off the Handling Throne, lead will... Well, you know what I mean, Mar. The only reason I worked at all is so I could leave you something when I'm not here no more. All you'll leave, Davey, if you try shooting it out, probably, is the memory of his mother. Doggone it, Mar. Let me go out and talk to this man. Well, but just once. I'm not gonna have no going back and forth. Going back and forth. What's the man's name, this sheep herder fella, I mean? Well, we hear his name is Brawling. Woolly Brawling, they call him. And they say he's got a flock of 4,000 sheep he's driven clear from Arkansas. Well, come on, Cherokee. Let's go out and see if we can chew the fat with Mr. Brawling. Maybe pull the Buckley's fat out of the fire at the same time. When I want your advice about my sheep, Remington will ask you for it. I've been trailing sheep since long before the time you were just wet behind the ears. You don't say. Well, if you try driving these sheep you've got here into Painted Horse Valley, and you won't do much more driving, believe you me. I guess I know my rights. Know and be hanged. Find a lot of good your rights are gonna do you when the cattlemen start blasting their guns in your faces. You wouldn't be trying to threaten me now, would you? I don't have to threaten you. If you've got a brain in your head, you'll know I'm right. If I've got a brain in my head, huh? Why, you long-legged lout mouth! That's it, Chad! Now, busty one for me! If you want any more, Brawling, just get back up on your feet. No, no, no, no, wait a minute. I'm not looking for no more trouble. You should have thought of that before you threw that sneak punch. Look, Brawling, I came out here to try to help you, not to make trouble. Yeah, I got an oil painter, you trying to help me. If you can risk losing 4,000 sheep, that's your business. I'd like to save you the loss, save the cattlemen from getting hurt, and actually save the sheep. Because anybody with even one brain in their head knows that a few sheep are good for range country. Of course, if you'd split your flock into small bunches and feed them through the country lightly, nobody'd be hurt. You could send some of your sheep into Painted Horse Valley, a few more through Valhalla Pass, and so on. If you did, I don't think even the owner would be hurt. If you did, I don't think even the owner is cattleman, it'd bother you. You think they'd really be willing to let my sheep through that way? The cowmen don't want any trouble, they'll cooperate with you. Okay, I'll do it. I'll split them up. Now you're making sense, my friend. And if you don't mind, old Bannon and I are gonna go back and tell the ranchers the good news. Come on, Cherokee, let's be getting up steam. Mr. Brawling, congratulations. You're a gentleman of rare intelligence. Get up there, boy. Perrel, hey, Perrel. Si, boss, si. What you want now? I want you and the other boys to keep an eye on the flock. I'm riding up to Flag and higher in every gun hand I can find. And if I can't get enough there, I'm going to Gallup and Santa Fe and Albuquerque till I get all I need. Why do you do that? Because I'm driving my 4,000 sheep through Painted Horse Valley. Even if I have to leave a dead cowboy to mark every blasted foot. If they want war, they're gonna get war until this valley is black with gun smoke. We'll return to the second act of All Trails Lead to Trouble, our exciting Frontier Town adventure in just a few moments. And now Frontier Town. Well, not knowing then what woolly Brawling planned, I went back to the Buckleys and asked Bar and Dave to see if they could arrange a meeting of all the ranchers in the vicinity, figuring that if I could get them all together, I could get them all together. And I did. And I did. And I did. And I did. After a few minutes, I found out the ranchers in the vicinity, figuring that if I could get them all together at once, I'd have a fair to middle-end chance of convincing them of what I thought I'd convinced a sheep man of. Ma, of course, was reluctant to waste any time, prolabyrin- as she termed it. But she finally gave in and the meeting was arranged for the following afternoon. The meeting was chaired by Amos Churchill, Quiet boys, quiet down, quiet down. I'll be blessed if I'm gonna quiet down, Amos. I admit that I asked Gremlin to come up here, or at least my son did, but enough's enough. He ain't making no bargains for no sheep herders for me. Well then, what was the idea of calling this here meeting? Because I ain't no sheep herder, and I ain't no lawyer. Now don't say things by hiding folks back. Now Chad said he wanted to put his proposition up to all of you, well I give him the chance. Now that you've heard him, I'm telling you how I feel. Ma, you got no right to do this. I got an interest in that contract just like you have. Sure, you got plenty of rights, Davey, and as your mother, I got the right to turn you over my knee and warp the daylights out of you for talking about things you don't know about. Oh. Neighbors, neighbors, this is our range. It's up to us to keep it. If anyone tries to run any sheep across it, we dog gone well better be out there proving it's our range. In other words, Ma, you're insisting that the public lands are yours exclusively? How can you be so short-sighted? Don't you see if you persist in this ridiculous and selfish notion, you'll live to regret it if you live it all? Remington, Remington, you're out of order. Now you get off the platform and sit down. Oh, I've seen selfish men like you precipitate range wars before, but this time by glory, it's gonna be stopped. That's all I've got to say. Somehow or other, this has got to be stopped before you all commit suicide. Come on, Cherokee, let's get out of here. Oh. Ma. Yeah, Amos? It was you who brought Remington up here. Now by golly, it's you who's gonna have to get rid of him. No one's going to interfere with us. Let them sheep trail over on our land. And since you and Dave brought Remington up here, the two of you better get your heads together quick and get rid of him. Well, I don't know about that, Amos. Well, you darn well better know about that, Ma Buckley, or we'll run you and your son out of this valley right along with them sheep. All right, boys, that's all. This meeting stands adjourned. Well, I certainly talked tough and positive, but you can take it from me. It was sheer bluff. How anyone could stop those stock men from waging their age-old battle with the sheep herders is something even a cow town lawyer didn't know. However, my pessimism changed to optimism later that afternoon when young Dave Buckley rusted me out and told me Ma wanted to see me out at their place that evening. It certainly sounded as if the old matriarch was either gonna capitulate or compromise somehow or other, but knowing that no case is won until the jury's back in the courtroom, my son Cherokee heels over leather on an errand. And like a doomed man, I had the proverbial big meal at the Merchants and Drovers Hotel before riding out for my somewhat mysterious meeting with Ma Buckley. And the moon was a thin golden scimitar in the sky as I pulled up at the ranch house. It was a perfect evening except for the faint smell of sheep on the wind. Oh, boy, oh no. Oh, it's you, Chad. What's wrong with you, Dave? You act as if I'm not welcome. You're not particularly. Come on, come on in. I didn't expect you to freeze up on me, Dave. Your mother, well, that's a different story. I'm sorry, I didn't expect you to freeze up on me, Dave. I didn't expect you to freeze up on me, Dave. Your mother, well, that's a different story. I don't mean it that way, Chad. Come on, Ma's back in the parlor. Hey, Ma, Chas here. Well, don't stand there. Come on in. Well, Ma, did you change your mind? Sit down, Chad. Give Chad a chair, Dave. Here you are, Chad. Thank you. It's awful dark in here. Why don't you light a lamp or something? We, uh, we got our reasons, ain't we, Ma? Yeah, we got other reasons right now. And the principal reason is this. Jeepers, Ma, the way you hit him, you could have hurt him. Hurt him real bad. I didn't do him no good. The piece of stove wood never done any more to a head than raise a lump on it. What are we gonna do with him now? Tie him up, that's what. He's sure gonna be sore when he comes to. What are you, anyhow, a man or a pewling baby? Painted Horse Valley is our home, Dave. Whether Chad Remington likes it or not, we're gonna protect it. Nice people, my clients. But knowing Ma Buckley, how hard she'd worked all her days, how much she wanted to leave something to Dave so he wouldn't have to go through the agony and grief which had marked her life, I can't be too bitter. Although at the time I was bitter almost to the point of hatred. Maybe as Ma said, a piece of stove wood never did any permanent harm, but it laid me out cold for hours. While I was still vaguely drifting around on some distant cloud, Cherokee returned from the errand I'd sent him on. Unable to locate me, headed from town out to the Buckley's place, found enough dust along the trail. Chad certainly must be talking his fool head off. He's out of the Buckley's this long. More than three hours. Get up there, keep moving. Wait a minute, slow down. Whoa, there's someone coming. Hello there, mind if I... Well, it's Ma and Dave Buckley. Who's that? Who's that? Me, Cherokee O'Bannon. What are you doing out this time of night, O'Bannon? Well, I might ask you two the same question. But at the same time, I'm out looking for Chad. Where is he now? Chad? Why, why... How should we know where he is? Well, he had an appointment out at your place at ten o'clock, didn't he? Yeah, yeah, sure, but he didn't stay more than ten minutes, did he, Ma? That was ten minutes too long. It's a good thing we run into you, O'Bannon. Saved you a long ride. We'll go back to town now. Yeah, if he's not out at your place, he might as well. What have you got there, old arsehole? You're both armed to the teeth. If I was you, O'Bannon, I wouldn't ask so many questions. By blazes I wager I know what you're up to. Despite all Chad's done to try to save you, you're out... trying to start a fight with them sheep men, aren't you? You're too smart for your own good, O'Bannon. Come on, you're coming along with us. Now, just a minute, madam. Dave, take his gun. Sure, Ma, I'll get it. Get up there, you! Ma! Ma, he's getting away! You won't get far. I'll knock that poor flesh and medicine man right off the... Ma, don't let go of that rifle there, David. Go on, blast it, Ma, it's bad enough going out to shoot sheep hunters... without shooting a friend behind his back. Yeah, yeah, that's better. Yeah, I guess you're right at that. I was just afraid he'd find Chad. Out in the barn? Fine chance tied up and all covered with hay. Come on, Ma, Mr. Churchill and the others will be waiting for us. We're gonna catch them sheep men napping. We're gonna have to do it before sunup. While all this was happening, I finally came back to life... trust like a turkey and covered with hay in the Buckley's barn. I couldn't figure out any way of getting loose until wriggling around... I found I could make my fingers reach some matches in my pocket. I guess I got the idea from something I'd read... but I figured if I could strike a match or two and hold the flame under my ropes... I could burn them loose. And I managed to get hold of three matches. I struck one, held it just under my left wrist... and the next thing I knew, the hay was on fire. Smart lawyer, hey? Trussed up like a suckling pig on a barbecue and just about as hot. I thrashed around, tried everything I could... but the only thing I succeeded in doing was spreading the flames. Oh, my goose was cooking, so was I when the barn door opened and Cherokee rushed in. Chad! Chad, you in here? Cherokee, get out that boy and I for yours. Come on, I'm tied up. You're almost burned up. Come on, young fella, we've got to get out of here. Cherokee, if you're sure of what you think you saw, we're in for it. Well, then we're in for it because those cow-headed ranchers have cut down trees... barricaded the pass, made a blast of forklifts out of this valley. Good grief, Cherokee. They've started. From the number of gun flashes I see, those sheep men have got them out numbered five to one. Keep going there, boy, keep going. Hey, Cherokee, look. Look, there's someone coming, riding away from here. Slow, fella. Whoa, boy. Hold it! Rain up! Who's that? Is that you, Remington? Billy Blue Blazers, Chad. This is Mr. Churchill, the man who ran you out of the meeting. It's awful down there. Five men shot already. And I was going to see if I could get some help. They must outnumber us ten to one. Hey, that bugle. What's that? Chad, the Colonel was as good as his word. They got here, they got here. Who got here? The United States Army, that's who. I sent Cherokee over to see the Colonel early this afternoon. Since they bought all this beef, they've got an interest in this valley, too. Come on, boys, we can still get in for the wind-up. Chad, I guess there's no way of rightly telling you how I feel over what we've done to you after all you've done for us. You don't have to apologize, Ma. Just so long as you've learned your lesson, the West and the open range doesn't all belong to you. I think most of Ma's honor has leaked out through the hole that sheep herders' bullet put through her arm, huh, Ma? Sure ain't got my back up now. Then, Madam, may Dr. O'Bannon prescribe a dose of his genuine Cherokee and in rattlesnake oil, taken just before meals? Just so happens that I have a bottle with me. And I'll be very happy to sell you at a reduced price, a genuine bargain. Pay cash for that hogwash? No, but I'll tell you what I'll do. So happens that I just have one bottle of that stuff I used to make and I'll trade you. Trading for that stuff? Not on your tin tides. What's happened to you, Cherokee, turning down a deal like that? Well, I'll tell you, Chad, I once saw an Indian who drank Ma's stuff and it bleached him out like an albino. You don't expect us to believe that one, do you, Cherokee? Well, that's impossible. Impossible? What's impossible about a redskin and biving and some red-eye and turning pale? Why, even a school kid knows the answer to that one. It's an old copybook maxim. Two reds don't make a white. Frontier Town, starring Tex Chandler and featuring Wade Crosby, is a Bruce Ells production. Story and Direction by Paul Franklin. Music written and played by Ivan Dittmar. Be sure to be with us again same time next week for another fine action adventure story with your favorite young western star, Tex Chandler. And now this is Bill Foreman telling you that Frontier Town came to you from Hollywood. Music by Bill Foreman.
