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. Frontier Town. Howdy. If you're ever out on the frontier and happen to need a Frontier Town lawyer, well, my name's Chad Remington and the Frontier Town dos Rios. Not that I haven't got a few clients. I have. But after my last experience, what I'm looking for right now is a little more restful case. To tell the truth, and even a Frontier Town lawyer is expected to do that, it all started when I was out looking for a little rest and relaxation. With the buffalo and elk on the move, I gathered up Cherokee O'Bannon, who owns the dos Rios livery stable now that he has forsaken the patent medicine game. And together we set out for the Tierra Piedra country. Buffalo guns thonged to our pummels and rifles slapping easily in our saddle boots. We were looping along high up in the tangled crags and everything was serene. Or serene was the way it looked. Counselor, I say Chad, what are you looking so happy about? Because Cherokee up here with no troubles to bother me, I feel happy. What are you looking so glum about? Well, not to put too fine a point on the matter, my boy. Just because up here in this Satan-forsaken barren wilderness, we're two days' ride from the nearest establishment which purveyes nectar. Nectar spelled W-H-I-S-K-E-Y whiskey. Cherokee, for a man who made his dubious living by using his wits, you certainly are lacking in resourcefulness. Resourcefulness? Now how could resourcefulness get me even two fingers of liquid man up here? You see what's growing all around us, don't you? My palate may be decomposing for the lack of lubrication, but my optics are sharp as ever. Naturally I see what's growing all around us. Mesquite. What's there about mesquite to salve my thirst? Don't you know what the Indians make for mesquite? Delightful witches brew known as mescal. Pox on mescal? Two ounces of that stuff and the man might end up merry. Well, you're up in Indian country now, Cherokee. And if you're thirsty enough, you'll do as the Indians do. Drink mescal. Do you really think I could try cooking some up when we make camp tonight? I got that Dutch oven in my saddle roll and... Say, look there, Chad. Isn't that a flock of sheep on the move just down below us? Yeah. Looks like they're being trailed, too. Must be between 700 and 1,000 sheep in that flock. That's another example of what mescal will do to you. What's mescal got to do with trailing a flock of sheep? Anybody who would trail a lizard through this country must have been drinking mescal. I can't disagree with you there, old venom. This isn't even fit for mountain sheep. And there seems to be only three people tending the... Uh-oh. Uh-oh what? Now what's the matter? Quick. Look across the other side of this valley, up by that chimney rock. Doesn't that look like a yellow shirt? A yellow...billy blue blazes, Chad, you're 100% right. It's a yellow shirt and that means Indians. It sure does mean Indians. Apaches. And unless I miss my guess, they're after those sheep. There aren't enough of those redskins to risk a raid. Maybe not, but there are enough to be scouts. You see now, they're turning their ponies and heading north. Probably going to tell the main body of the raiders that they've located the flock. Even with this buffalo gun, I couldn't reach them from here, Chad. The only thing we can do is ride down and warn those herders what we think they're in for. All right, Cherokee, knock on that piece of crow bait. This gravel's loose, it's a downhill ride, and we've really got to make tracks if we're going to get there in time. All right, fellas, get to running. On the way! Diego? Si, Palara. I can see Pablo no longer. My brother's up ahead trying to turn the ship to the left. We do not wish to lose one ship before we deliver them to Fort Lincoln. Si, Diego. To sell to government contractors is what we've been working for for six years now. And we must not... Diego? Si, what happened, Palara? What is it? Maybe I make a mistake. I do not think so. I saw a flash of yellow shirt and rocks up ahead. Yellow shirt? Sacre madre! Inions! Call Pablo, quick! Pablo! Pablo! Palara, he cannot hear this far. I shall ride up ahead and I will... The Indians are all around us. Palara, off your horse. The Red Devils shall not get our ship without a fight. Quick, Diego! Two of them get behind us! Then we take care of them first. Palara, those two Nariñas, those white men, they come to help us and they... Diego! Diego, my son! Hand me a few more of those stones, Cherokee. Here you are, Chad. I'm sorry that we didn't have something more to dig with than our hands, Senor Velicheta. It does not make much difference, Senor Remington. These graves are temporary only. If we ever get a ship to Fort Lincoln, Diego and Pablo shall have fine graves back home with marble headstones. You'll forgive my intruding in a time like this, Senora Velicheta, but how is it that you're taking your sheep all the way to Fort Lincoln? My husband, Diego, had arranged to sell all the sheep to Senor Bronco Antro. Bronco Antro, huh? What is he now, a government contractor for beef, cattle and sheep? Si. He has contract for meet with the government. That just gives the light of the old adage about early to bed and early to rise and living an honest life. Government contractor. You already know this, Senor Antro? Like a book. About three years ago, he was down on our neck of the woods, but he sloped fast when we found out that he was peddling whiskey and rifles to the Indians. Even bad men, if they pay price for sheep. That is all I ask. Well, Senora Velicheta, since Jerarchy and I are doing nothing in particular, I don't suppose you'd have any objections to our riding along with you and making sure that the sheep get through. Oh, no, Senor. You have no reason to be any more help to me. Already you drove off the Indians, and even though my husband and brother-in-law were killed, you saved the flock. Now, I'm not above taking credit, but we didn't drive off any Indians, Senora. But I saw you when you and Senor Remington come up behind us. That was when Indians ride off. That's when the raiders rode off. I've got a pretty good nose for smell, Senora, and those men didn't smell like Indians. The men who raided you smelled mightily like two-legged pole cats. White men. If you don't object, Jerarchy and I sure mean to find out. Why don't a lot of you shut up? Only a bunch of halfwits would bungle a simple little job like that. Now, wait a minute, Brank. We didn't do the bungling. You just didn't send enough men. What are you talking about, Schiller? There were eight of you and only three of them herders, and the two men you say rode up. Yeah, but them jaspers that rode up, rode up behind us. Ask Eddie. Ask anybody. That's the truth, Brank. Maybe if we'd seen them coming, it would have been different, but they caught us by surprise. And you can shut up too, Eddie. Well, yes, that's what I'm telling you. Talk, talk. That's all I get. Well, if I'd have been along, we'd have had them sheep. Oh, sure, sure, if. Nobody stopped you from coming along, you know, and if you ask me... Eddie, you better be leaving. You're through. I'll say I'm through. For good this time. And the next time I send anybody out to get them sheep, I think I'll dress them up in dunce caps instead of like Apaches. Senor Remington. Yes, Senora. You feel the air? Well, if I'm any judge of the weather, it feels and sounds as if a storm's coming up. Storm would certainly wreck everything up here in these mountains. There are two rivers to cross between here and Fort Lincoln, and a real storm could... Now what, Sheriff? Well, I'm not sure if you're going to be able to see the sun. I'm not sure if you're going to be able to see the sun. But the difference between here and Fort Lincoln and a real storm could... Now what, Chad? Well, you're staring like Galileo with his first telescope. Hold it, rain up. There is trouble, Senor. You smell something again? I don't know about smelling it, but I certainly see something. Look over there. Isn't that a man riding tortoise? My Godfrey, it's an Apache. Well, look, he's wearing a yellow shirt. Perhaps he wear yellow shirt, but that man riding saddle, he white man. He's a tough man, and he isn't just out for the exercise. He's riding straight for us. Howdy, friend. Something we can do for you? Ho, ho, ho! Ah, maybe so. First, I'd like to do something for you. Something for us, huh? Well, first, maybe you can explain what you're doing wearing an Apache shirt. I was one of the men who raided these sheep this morning. Why, you blasted, no good, unprincipled... Now, wait a minute, Cherokee. There's one reason why he raided the sheep, and another reason why he rode out here in the middle of nowhere to tell us. Maybe you are the man who killed my Diego. Ma'am, any shooting I did was over your heads. You see, I thought I recognized you, Remington. Remington? Do I know you? You know my brother, Jimmy Bakewell. And it was you who got him paroled. And you must be... Let me see. Yes, you must be Eddie Blakewell. Yeah, that's right, that's right. Since I figure one good turn deserves another, well, I took my life in my hands and rode out to meet you. But why? What do you want to tell us? You know who engineered that raid this morning? Bronte Quantro. Quantro? But he's the man who's supposed to buy these sheep. Sure, sure. He said he was gonna buy them, but that ain't the way Quantro runs his business. You see, he arranges to buy cattle and sheep providing they're delivered at Fort Lincoln. Then by dressing his men up like Apaches, he gets the animals and the Indians get the blame. But... But why you come to tell us? Why? I'll tell you why, ma'am. Because Bronte Quantro is as cussed as they come. And for one, I've taken all the slapping around I'm gonna take. I suppose now that he missed the sheep this morning, it's only made him more determined, eh? It sure has. When he comes out after him next time, he'll be bringing every manjack that works for him. Oh, more trouble, more trouble. I start to believe the whole thing is not worth it. I've never heard a bast talk that way before, Senora Del Cesar. And certainly never an American. How far behind us is Quantro and his gang, Eddie? Well, by now, now and a half the most. Yeah, this is a fine hog-ted of dills. I suppose this is the only trail to Fort Lincoln? The only trail, yeah. But you could get there driving these sheep across Diablo Basin. Diablo Basin? Oh, no. It is so hot there and the sheep move so slow. We would die before we were one hour across. There's the river the other side of Diablo Basin, isn't there? Yeah, yeah, the big salamander. But you'd have to swim the sheep across and that water's plenty high. If this storm breaks, the water will be plenty higher. Just the same folks with Bronte Quantro right on our heels. I'm going to try to get these sheep to Fort Lincoln if we have to drive them halfway around the world to get them there. Hey, wait a minute. Line up. Schiller, where in Paranacian Plenty do you think they're driving them sheep? Looks from here as if they're heading into Diablo Basin, Bronte. Into that furnace? You don't get to Fort Lincoln that way. You could if you went up through the painted rocks until you got to the big salamander, then swim them across. They couldn't swim that themselves, even without the sheep. Are you loco? I'm not, but maybe they are. I wonder what made them change their minds and go that way. Yeah, sounds like they knew we were behind them. By blaze of Schiller, I'll bet that's it. Eddie, Eddie Bakewell. Well, now I want two scalps hanging from my belt. Remington's and Eddie's. If we could get through them lava beds, we can probably hit them off before they hit the river. I don't care how tough it is. Let's ride. We started out like just one of the sheep. Now it's Remington and Bakewell too. If I, Chasper, if I have to follow them into Barrera dog holes, I'm going to get them to the last thing I do on this earth. We'll return to the second act of the trail drive, our exciting frontier town adventure in just a few moments. And now, frontier town. Well, are you beginning to understand why I'm looking for a little quiet law business? I've had my back to the wall a few times in my young life, but never has my back been jammed against a series of walls. Brong Quantro and his little band of high-spirited gentlemen loaded down like an arsenal right behind us, 800 and some odd head of tired and frightened sheep ahead of us, a volcanic blast furnace known as Diablo Basin to the left of us, and the big salamander running brown and dirty over its banks, aided by the fury of a mountain storm to the right of us. But when you're boxed in on all four sides, there's not much you can do but plunge ahead. And in the case of Pallada Velicheda, Cherokee O'Bannon, Eddie Bakewell and myself, plunging ahead hits the nail right on the thumb, because there was very little left for us to do but herd the flock of sheep up to the edge of the big salamander and get ready to plunge in. And that's a prospect I never want to face again as long as I live, if I live that long. Even this seems a miracle, getting this far. But anyone who sees the river cannot need to know very much to realize these sheep, tired and weak from the drive, will never be able to swim across. Well, if I were a betting man, and I am, I'd give you 10 to 1. The sheep can't make it. And 20 to 1 I can. Cherokee, you've been around the frontier long enough to have learned that where there's water, there must be cottonwoods and willows. Discovery professor, go to the head of the class, cottonwood and willow. Remington, what do you mean? You think maybe we can hide the sheep on the trees? Because if you do, one of those every... My goodness, we could, Eddie. It would be a lot easier. But as long as I seem to be running a school here, do you remember what Noah did when he was confronted with rain? Well, and accustomed as I am with the perusal of religious literature, it so happens that I am well acquainted with old man Noah's resourcefulness. Because I was always interested in what a man would do when he was completely surrounded by...water. See, old Chad, you do not think we can build an ark like Noah? That's right, I don't. But I do believe that we could build a few rafts, lash them together and pull the sheep to the other bank without losing even one kid. Rats? Mother of the Santos, we have no tools. Even if we had the tools, we have at the time. We've got a few tools that Cherokee and I packed for our hunting trip. And as far as time goes, well, we've got as much time at our disposal as the good Lord will allow. All right, come on, boys. We've got some hand axes and some rawhide, so let's be unpacking those tools and getting to work before Bronc Quantrill gets here and goes to work on us. I never would have believed it, Chad. Got about enough logs now for one raft. Save your breath, Eddie. Because if we don't get through with this job, and soon, Quantrill may see that none of us has any breath left. Even in this rain, I'm as hot as a furnace. Three rafts already. Yep, and what you'd better do, Philander, is to start herding some of those sheep aboard a raft. You never can tell when we may have to leave sooner than we expected. Ha, ha, get aboard there. Say, Chad. What is it, Cherokee? What do you say to sheep that make a move? They have to learn to talk their language, Cherokee. Their language? Sure, you've got to get behind them and say, Baaaaa. You know, Chad, if it weren't for you, we never would have had it. So, friend Joe, look there. Look, just coming up over the edge of the painted rock. Indians, Apaches. Apaches, nothing. That's Bronc Quantrill and his gang. Not only have we spotted them, but they've spotted us. I don't know if they spotted us, but they're getting our reins. That was my hand. All right, come on, grab our horses, and let's get aboard those rafts. Pilata, start moving those sheep. Come on, come on. Chad, Chad, Bronc's coming down the other side. Well, you weren't a gunman. Don't leave our flank unprotected. Look, Chad, two of them are crawling down there in the willow. Thanks, Cherokee. I can see them good. Right over the side of this buffalo gun. All right, now, pull. Pull from the sandbank. Get them over there. Push. Lord Almighty Cherokee, I never thought we'd make it. I was just about able to pull myself up the bank, Eddie. For a few moments, I thought I was gone. Why, you just leave it to Chad. Something Joe, where is Chad? He was right behind me on the last raft. If anything happens to him, Cherokee, isn't it him out there? Down below us in the river. Where? I don't see any sweet merciful providence. It is Chad. He's swimming his horse up to help Pilata. He's got a whole herd, but the wheat's too much for him. Cherokee's not going to make it. Well, he's going to make it if I have anything to do with it. Say your prayers, Eddie, and keep me covered. You're a blame fool. You can't swim out to him. Well, I'll be hamstrung, full of booze and with hardly a muscle in his body, and look at that abandoned swim. Hang on, Chad. I'm coming. Cherokee, look out. Look out for the horse. Poor fool. He's going to make it. There you are. I think we got most of the water out of you, Cherokee. I didn't want to have to die full of water. Oh, Senor O'Bannon, never, never have I seen a man swim like you do so fast, just like his fish. Well, Senor, any time I get into water, I just can't swim fast enough. I just can't wait to get out of it. Oh, no. Well, it sure looks like Quantro gave up, all right. The yelling I heard in the opposite bank, Chad, there was a couple of them ran a hand who felt your lead. Well, it's all right with me. And if I sound just a little bloodthirsty, I mean to. Thirty to four aren't very good odds. Well, Senor, now that the storm is over, we had better move the sheep again. Yeah, yeah. And if we don't get out of here, Quantro might change his mind, get around behind us again. How far would you say it is from where we are to Fort Lincoln, Eddie? Oh, about eight, nine miles. Well, the sun's coming out again, and that'll dry out our clothes while we're riding. Today, let's get back on our horses and be off for Fort Lincoln. Whoa, whoa there, whoa. All right, you boys drop by tomorrow and I'll pay you off. All right, come on, Chile. Hey, Brock, if you're going to your office, I'm going back over to my place and picks up my shoulder. It hurts like blazes. Yeah, Chile, go ahead. And if I was you, I'd go someplace too. I wouldn't want to show my face when Remington hits town. Like I'm that bigger fool. I got some mighty important business to take care of up in Dakota. Like they'll be gone a couple of weeks. See you when I get back, Chile. Sure, Brock, see you then. Yeah. Well, howdy, Brock. Oh, it's you, Eddie. What are you doing hanging around my office? Waiting for you. You know something? I'm glad you're here. Gonna save me looking you up. Yeah? Did you run across Chad Remington after I threw you out this morning? Up in the Diablo Basin, you mean? Yeah, yeah, I seen him. And I told him what you were planning to do. And you know something else? All he lost was seven sheep crossing the Big Salamander. Yeah? How do you know what he lost? Chad told me. And if you're interested, he's standing right behind that closet door. Chad, here. Of all the things you ever pulled, Quentro, trying to rustle those sheep from those poor basks was about the lowest. What are you doing here anyhow? Why are you always showing up someplace where you don't belong? Oh, but I do belong in Fort Lincoln. You see, I'm going to be the government star witness when they try you for murder. Chad, watch it! And if you try to pick up that gun, Quentro, I'm promising you this much. I'll jump you and bang your head until it goes clean through that floor. All right, Eddie, you get his gun. Then we'll take him over to the post guard house. Being a government contractor, Mr. Quentro's picked himself up a nice charge of a federal offense. Señor Chad and Señor Cherokee, all the things I have in my heart to say to you. When I make them into little words, somehow they turn into a big lump in my throat. Well, nothing comes out. Señor, as an expert on human ailments, I diagnose your case as the very common sediment in the throat. Sediment in the throat? Is that serious? Pilarra, believe me, the disease may not be serious, but I'm willing to bet that Cherokee's remedy will be. Oh, you have a remedy? Good. Ah, madam, the first thing you'll have to do is rustle up a bottle of alcohol. Since I know you can't get alcohol out here, I suggest you get something like alcohol, namely good old drinking liquor. Oh, no you don't, Cherokee. You're not going to get a drink that way or any other way. I'm not? Chad, you even treated those little lambs better than you treat me. Naturally. Naturally? Naturally. You want me to treat you like a hog. A hog, Señor? Yes, a hog, Pilarra. You see, Cherokee wants me to let him get a snoot. I don't want to get a snoot. I don't want to get a snoot. Well, I'm not going to get a snoot. So, you want me to let him get a snoot? Yes, you can. I'm not going to let him get a snoot. Frontier Town, starring Reed Hadley 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, Reed Hadley. And now this is Bill Foreman to tell you that Frontier Town comes to you from Hollywood. Music by Bill Foreman. Music by Bill Foreman.
