In a moment you'll hear James Stewart as the six shooter, just one of the many fine programs brought to you Sundays on NBC. Listen to the NBC Star Playhouse with Fredric March and Florence Eldridge. Hear a stroke of fate and what might have happened if fate had reversed historical facts. And keep tuned for the dramatic story of Last Man Out. It's a lineup of great programs, all of them heard only on NBC. James Stewart as the six shooter. The man in the saddle is angular and long-legged. The skin is sundyed brown. The gun in his holster is gray steel and rainbow mother of pearl, its handle unmarked. People call them both the six shooter. The NBC radio network presents James Stewart as the six shooter, a transcribed series of radio dramas based on the life of Britt Ponset, the Texas Plainsman who wandered through the western territories leaving behind a trail of still remembered legends. The snow was beginning to melt by the time I reached Dawson. You could hear it dripping from the east, hitting the boardwalk along the main street. I'd figured I'd been in town a couple of days earlier, but that storm sort of threw me off schedule. Not that I had to be there on a particular day, but my winter job at Dave Engelman's ranch would be waiting for me whenever I showed up. But the sooner I got to Dave's, the sooner we could start moving his herd down to lower ground. Oh, Scott, oh, oh boy. Well, it was almost noon so I tied Scott to the hitching rail in front of Brick Vining's Gamblin' Hall and went hunting a place to eat. The town was sort of showing a little wear and tear. Of course, Dawson never had been a rich place and I guess the drought last summer hadn't helped much. Folks just didn't have the money for improving the real estate, that's all. Except the jail. Huh, gee, for a minute I couldn't believe my eyes. I was all fixed up. Fresh green paint on the outside, new wooden steps leading up to the front door. Real honest-to-goodness bars in the cell windows. It sure was a different jail, all right. But the face grinning out at me from behind those cast iron bars, well, that face hadn't changed a bit since the last time I was in Dawson. Howdy, Brett. Hello, Milt. I heard you was coming to town. Dave Engelman said you signed up with him. Yeah, that's right. You in for something, Milt? Oh, there's a little ruckus over at Brick Vining's place last night. Some folks said I started it. Uh-huh. Hmm, reckon I arrived. You do. It seems to me like you were in jail when I left Dawson a couple years back, isn't it? Was it Saturday night or Sunday morning? Uh, could have been. Could have been. I don't remember exactly. Well, if it was a Saturday night or Sunday morning like it's now that I was here, I ain't missed being thrown in more than two Saturday nights since they first built the place. Mm-hmm. Well, at least you're living in style. I'm sure this jail looks a lot fancier than it used to be. Yeah, sure. New sheriff fixed it all up. New sheriff, huh? Sure. Oh, you heard about Saul Gordon being killed, didn't you? Oh. No, well, what happened? Oh, well, it happened, oh, maybe a couple of months ago. And well, come on inside and have a look around while I tell you about it. Well, I don't know about that, Mel, you know, maybe the new sheriff wouldn't care about it. Oh, sheriff Billy wouldn't mind. He'd like you to pay his visit. Now, come on, come on, Britt, the front door is unlocked. Well, all right, all right. Ha-ha, that's some desk, ain't it? Solid mahogany. He had it shipped here all the way from Frisco. Is that so? Mm-hmm. He paid for it out of his own pocket, too, Billy did. Town couldn't afford a desk like that. Oh, no, no, I don't suppose it could. Well, what about Saul? What happened to him? Well, like I said, it was around two months ago. The Baxter brothers had been seen heading this way from White Eagle, and when Sheriff Gordon heard about it, he, well, he got some men together and started looking for them. Mm-hmm. Young Billy hadn't been in town very long. He wasn't obliged to join the posse, but he went anyway. Billy Riddle. Oh, that's his name, Britt. Uh-huh. Mm-hmm. It wasn't a very big posse, and when one of them Baxter's shot the sheriff, well, that had to have been the end of it if Billy hadn't have took charge. Well, he managed to get off a couple of shots, and the next thing you know, both of them Baxter boys surrendered. So when Billy came back to town, well, nobody else was very anxious for the job of sheriff, so he seemed to be the logical man for it. You know, the way he handled the posse, you know. Sure, sure. Of course, some of the folks thought he was a little young for the job. Well, can't be more than 22 or 23, but he's got a good, firm grip on himself. He does. Oh, he ought to be showing up about now. He always turns me loose and time from a Sunday dinner. Real nice young fella. You like him? Mm-hmm. Southern boy. Oh? Yeah, I don't know why he came out west exactly. Good thing for the town he did, though. Oh, howdy, Sheriff, howdy. Oh, we're just talking about you. This here is Rick, Rick Ponson. Ponson? Oh, that's right. You've heard of him, ain't you? He's a six-shooter. Oh, sure, sure. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Ponson. Howdy, Sheriff. I was just strolling by and Milt asked me to come inside. Glad you did. Well, Milt, I reckon you'd like to be on your way. Oh, I don't know, Sheriff. This jail's getting to be a darn sight more comfortable than my cabin. What with all your improvements. Well, if you want to stay, well... Oh, one second, thought I'd better be getting home now. Thanks, thanks for the hospitality anyway. Don't mention it. You heading my direction, Rick? Well, if... You don't mind, Mr. Ponson. I'd like to talk to you. Just for a couple of minutes. Sure, sure. Well, so long, then. See you next Saturday, Sheriff. Sure, sure. Goodbye, Milt. I trust I'm not keeping you from anything, sir? No, no, no. I was just thinking about eating a little dinner, maybe, if there's a cafe open. Old Cotton serves a pretty good meal on Sunday. That's right. Cotton White, yeah. This place is right around the corner. Fine, fine. Well, I'll give that a try. You wouldn't care to join me, would you? We could talk while we're eating. Better as if you don't have any other plans. Oh, thanks, Mr. Ponson. I'd like to join you. You see, I'd been hoping you'd turn up in Dalton. Oh, George, I sure was a nice, tender pot roast, wasn't I? Oh, boy, I ate too much, darling. Oh? You're cutting into me like a cinch here. What was it you had in your mind, Billy? My name's Riddle, Mr. Ponson. Bill Riddle. Uh-huh, yeah. Milt told me. Uh, the name doesn't mean anything to you? No, no, not offhand. I heard a lot about you, Mr. Ponson, since I came to Dawson. Folks say you've traveled a lot around this part of the country, covered it all from one end to the other. Well, I've done my share of moving about. What I wanted to know was if you ever ran into anybody else with the same last name as me. Riddle? Blake Riddle. That's the full name. Relative? My father. Oh, oh. It's not a very common name. If you heard it, you'd be likely to remember it. Yes, yes. Here's your pie, chef. Watch that plate, though. It's hot. Thanks, God. No, no, I don't think I ever heard that name before. Well, I wanted to be sure. Was your father in these parts? I don't know. I know he was once. Not here in Dawson, but somewhere in this territory. You haven't heard from him lately? No. No, I've never heard from him. Oh? The fact of the matter is, I've never even seen him. You see, he brought my mother out west here before I was born. It wasn't the kind of life she'd been used to. She was born and raised in the south. And had a plantation. I see. In those days, the frontier must have been pretty wild. Anyway, when it came time for me to be born, she went back home. And your father didn't go either? No. Maybe they had a quarrel. Maybe he didn't like her leaving him. I don't know. Later on, she told me he was dead. But I found out that wasn't true. At least it wasn't true when she told me. Oh? Anyhow, mother died last year. One of the things was a letter from dad. It had been mailed from Denver about 15 years ago. Said he was going to buy a ranch somewhere around Phoenix. He asked mother to bring me along and meet him. From the way it was written, you could kind of tell he didn't expect her to come. Yeah, yeah. Well, some folks don't bear up very well when they're transplanted, you know. They take root in one place and there's no point in trying to move. Yeah. I reckon they just weren't suited. Now, well, I thought maybe if dad was still alive, I thought maybe he and I... I'll tell you the truth, Mr. Pontus. I guess I'm his son even though I never saw more of his than mother's. I see. And ever since I can remember, I've wanted to come with him even before I knew about him. And I've been happy out here, too. Happy than I've ever been in my life. Of course, I didn't figure on being sheriff. That was just an accident. Well, be that as it may, you're the sheriff and Milton says you're a darn good one. So you've at least got one satisfied customer. I'm going to try, Mr. Pontus. I'm going to try hard. I just wish that dad... Well, if you should ever run into him while... Sure, sure. What the hell's that? Sounds like somebody's getting frisked. There he goes, sheriff. Over by the mercantile. Yeah. Oh, he ain't doing no harm. He's just shooting up in the air that way. He ain't doing no good either. Looks like he's running out of lead. Yes, yes, there he goes. Into Brooke Binning's place. And put the dinners on my bill, Cotton. I'll pay you for them later. Sure, sheriff. Well, hold up, my little boy. Yeah? Hey, didn't you recognize that fellow that was doing the shooting? What? Why should I? Well, his name is Ben Reed. Reed? You sure, Mr. Pontus? Yeah, yeah, I'm sure. I thought he was in jail over at Fort Lyon. I thought the marshal arrested him last month. Well, Ben Reed's been in a lot of jails, but he always sort of manages to break out somehow, you know. He won't break out of mine. You going to arrest him, sheriff? He's an outlaw, ain't he? Well, sure, sure, but he's mighty fast with a gun. At least so are here. Ain't that right, Mr. Pontus? Yeah, yeah, that's what folks say. Well, I guess there's only one way to find out. Sheriff Billy was young, all right, but he didn't walk young, and he didn't swagger. He just moved ahead like a man who knew where he was going. Of course, being a few years old wouldn't have done him any harm, especially if he was going to tangle with Ben Reed. Well, there didn't seem to be any reason for me to miss all the excitement, so I started off in the direction of the gambling hall. If young Bill didn't know what he was doing, well, he'd soon find out. Ben Reed was sitting at a poker table dealing the cards. He didn't even look up when Bill came over and stood beside him, but Ben knew somebody was there, and he knew whoever it was was wearing a star. He laid the deck of cards on the table, and he rested his left hand on his knee. Gee whiz, I sure hope Billy knew that Ben was left-handed. Your name's Reed, Ben Reed. Are you talking to me? I asked if you're Ben Reed. Yeah, I'm Reed. You broke out of jail over at Fort Lyon. Don't look like I'm still there, does it, sonny? And you're going back. I don't know. You're under arrest. I had this town got themselves a new sheriff. Some youngster wasn't even dry behind the ears. Get on your feet. Sure. You know, most fellas your age never like to live for. They'd be sort of careful who they started ordering around, but maybe you're different. Maybe I am. What's your name, kid? Just for the record, I always like to know a man's name before I fall into any trouble. Bill Riddle. Sheriff Bill Riddle. Give me a gun, Reed. I said, give me a gun. For a couple minutes they stood there, not moving, staring at each other. And Ben Reed's left hand slipped down his hip a couple inches. And in spite of myself, I found my own hand going for my holster. And then Ben's finger stopped. And I couldn't believe my eyes. He unbuckled his gun belt and let it drop on the floor. Well, I guess the only person in that room who wasn't surprised was Billy. He just picked up those guns. He nodded to the door. Ben didn't even look back. He marched right out into the street and Billy behind him. There was a minute or so before it sank in, just what had happened. Sheriff Billy Riddle had arrested Ben Reed without even drawing his gun. We'll return to James Stewart as the six shooter in just a moment. Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please. I've got $100, 100 genuine United States dollars, and they're yours for a mere $75. Oh friends, suppose you heard an offer like that. You'd jump at it fast, wouldn't you? Well, that's the very offer I'm making you today. I'm promising a guaranteed return of $4 for every $3 you invest. And all you do is buy United States savings bonds. Well, sign up today for the payroll savings plan where you work or the bond a month plan where you bank. You'll feel more secure tomorrow if you buy United States savings bonds today. Now, Act II of the Six Shooter, starring James Stewart as Britt Ponset. About two o'clock that Sunday afternoon, the snow started coming down again, big, real big heavy snow. So I left Scar at the livery stable and got myself a room at Mrs. Kramer's boarding house. I sure didn't like the idea of going out for supper, but Mrs. Kramer said that she didn't fix food on Sunday nights. She was lead soprano on the church choir, and rain or snow, she had to be there for the evening service. There wasn't anybody else who could carry the melody. So I put on just about all the clothes I had with me and headed for Cotton White's Cafe. Howdy, Mr. Ponset. Oh, sure is coming down, isn't it? We don't usually get a big snow like this before January or maybe February. It seems like the weather's changing. I wonder what's causing it. I don't know, Cotton. I don't know. I was afraid you might be 12. I'm not ready except for these little lunches I'm packing. The sheriff caught me just as I was locking the door. The idea of leaving for Fort Lyon on a blizzard like this. Fort Lyon? That's where he says he's going. Well, what for? He wants to turn Ben Reed over to the marshal there. He's using a big hurry to get rid of him for some reason. This don't make sense. Like it's not they'll never make it to Lyon, you know. Billy says they're starting tonight, so. Well, now that does it. Just run these over to jail. You can pour yourself a cup of coffee, Mr. Ponson. I'll be right back. Well, why not let me take them over for you, Cotton? Since I'm all bundled up and everything. Oh, of course not, Mr. Ponson. No trouble, no trouble. I'd kind of like to have a talk with Bill before he leaves town. Well, if you're sure. And don't stay open for me. I'll just get a cup of coffee from Mrs. Cramie. That's all I wanted anyway. Good night. Oh, thanks for bringing them over, Mr. Ponson. Good night. Hey, Billy, you, uh, you serious about striking out for Fort Lyon tonight? Yeah. Well, it looks to me like he's as safe here as he would be anywhere else. I guess he don't appreciate my company. That's right. I don't. Uh-huh. Well, you're the sheriff. Yeah. You know, Fort Lyon's a two-day ride in good weather. You know, no telling how long it'll take you to get in the storm like this. Don't worry about that. Well, something happened, don't it? I don't know what you mean. Well, I guess it's none of my business, whatever it is. No, it isn't. Um, sorry, Mr. Ponson, I... Oh, what's the use? Somebody will find out sooner or later. I'm not taking him to Fort Lyon. As soon as we get out of town, I'm going to turn him loose. What? And I'm not coming back to Dawson. I'm going home to Georgia, where I belong. Well, I suppose you've got your reasons. I told you. I only came out here to find my father. And I told you this was my lucky day. I found him. Of course, he wasn't quite what I expected. He's a thief, an outlaw, and a killer. You mean Reed? You knew her, too, didn't you? No. No, I didn't know anything of the kind. Well, you must have guessed it then. They let me take him without lifting a finger to stop me. You said yourself he was fast with a gun. Well, I said that's what I heard. But the fact a man lets another man arrest him, well, that doesn't necessarily prove kinship. I got the proof right here. What? There. Well, that's a mighty pretty locket. Open it up. What? Go on, open it. That's my mother's picture when she was a girl. It's copied from a picture that hangs in our parlor back home. And he was carrying it fast into his gun belt. Is that so, Reed? His name isn't Reed. It's Blake Riddle. He's loco, Ponson. Ponson, ask anybody. I'm Ben Reed. I always have been. You're a fool to lie about it. If you want Blake Riddle, you'd be going to prison. I've been in prison before. And because you think he's your father, you're going to turn him loose. Is that it, Billy? I don't care about him or anything that happens to him. But she loved him once. At least she must have thought she did. And afterwards you're getting out of town, huh? I don't reckon Dawson would have much use for a sheriff who was Ben Reed's kid. Well, they wouldn't have to know. I'd know it. I'd always know it. Even if they didn't. Well, the town was mighty proud of you, Billy. Well, at least I won't be the first lawman who couldn't hang on to Ben Reed. No. No, no, that's true enough. It just seems to me you're acting on mighty, flimsy evidence. It seems to me there's a lot of ways a man could get a hold of a locket like this, wouldn't there? It wouldn't necessarily follow that he really belongs to him. Of course, if Reed says it's his... I ain't said that. He never asked me. I didn't have to ask. Well, what about it, Reed? Where'd you get it? I had it so long I almost forgot. Yeah. But it all came back to me when he was making such a fuss. Never thought a piece of junk like that would cause so much stir. Why? I found it. Must be about 15 years ago now, maybe more. I was down around Phoenix, a little town named Court City. There were some other boys with me, and folks sort of got the idea we'd held up the bank, come looking for us for the posse. Well, there was a couple hours of shooting, and afterwards the posse went back without us. Those that were still alive, that is. What's all this got to do with it? Well, I'm finished, Bill. Well, we went out to look at the bodies, you know, just to make sure the fellows were dead. One of them was carrying that locket, so I... Are you trying to say you killed my father? I don't know who killed him, not for certain. We was all shooting. I suppose it could have been me. You're lying, you're lying. Well, why should he lie? If it's the truth, why did he keep that locket? It wasn't worth anything, didn't have any value. Well... Why'd he keep it? I'll tell you, kid. When I opened it up and looked at it, I said to myself, now, she's pretty nice looking. So I thought seeing this other fellow who was carrying the locket was sort of out of action, and maybe someday I might run into the woman, the person, have another picture, it sort of give me an excuse to... You filthy rat, I ought to kill you with my bare hands! Get a hold of yourself. How could I ever have thought that that dirty rat killer would be my own? I must have been crazy, plum crazy. You sure were. The idea of a kid of mine turned out to be a sheriff. It took Billy Riddle a little while to simmer down. When he finally did, he changed his mind about going to Fort Lyon. He decided to wait until the storm had died down, until he was sure of delivering the prisoner. Reed didn't say anything, none of the words. Not until Bill went out back and got some wood for the potbellied stove. Why are you looking at me like that, Pronson? Yeah, you didn't believe me, did you? Not entirely, Reed, no, not entirely. Why not? Well, for one thing, I... I was in Court City when you robbed that bank, and it wasn't fifteen years ago, it was about four years ago. And the posse that went out after you, well, they didn't even get close to you. They came back and all of them hadn't fired a shot. Well... And there was another, I think you would call it discrepancy. What's that? I knew all those boys in that posse, and none of them was named Riddle. Well, one thing was true enough, the important thing. Oh? His father is dead. And I killed him. Why? Twenty years ago, when his mother went off and left me, when she wouldn't come back, when she wouldn't even answer my letters, that's when I killed the man his father had been. I didn't think I had anything to live for, I didn't think I'd ever see Billy. I didn't think I'd ever see him as long as I lived. That's when I turned outlaw and became Ben Reed. That's when I killed Blake Riddle. Hmm? Well, maybe so. Maybe so. But as far as I'm concerned, there's a lot more of Blake Riddle here tonight than there is of Ben Reed. At least that's the way it appears to me. Well, it was a couple of days before that storm let up and Sheriff Billy could take him over to the morgue of Fort Lyon, and he got him there, too, no trouble at all. Of course, a lot of folks said that afterwards Ben Reed would just break out of jail again, not like he always had before, but, you know, so far he hasn't even tried to. People just don't understand it. He's now, he's practically a mortal prisoner. Within the next five years, millions of additional children will crowd the elementary schools. Unless we prepare for this increased enrollment, our children and our nation will suffer. If America is to provide enough teachers and enough classrooms so that our children can receive a decent education, we must take immediate steps to improve some of our local school systems. Join and work with local civic groups and school boards, actively seeking to improve educational conditions, won't you? Because better schools make better communities. The Six Shooter is an NBC radio network production in association with Review Productions. It is based on a character created by Frank Byrd, and the transcribed story is written by him. Mr. Stewart may currently be seen in the Universal International Picture, the Glenn Miller story. Others in the cast were James McCallion, Ken Christie, Howard McNear, and Alan Reed. Special music for this program was by Basil Edlum, and the entire production is under the direction of Jack Johnstone. All characters and incidents were fictitious, and any resemblance to actual characters or incidents is purely coincidental. This is Hal Gibney speaking. Tonight, hear Frederick March and Florence Eldridge in the NBC Star Playhouse on the NBC Radio Network.
