 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 Pekos to Powder River, Dodge City to Poker Flat. These are the towns they fought to live in and lived to fight for. Teaming crucibles of pioneer freedom. Frontier Town. You know, down in Dos Rios, that's the little frontier town I come from, where I'm the only lawyer. The law of business certainly takes many a peculiar turn. Folks seem to come to a cow town lawyer like Chad Remington, that's me, for almost any kind of advice. And for help in almost any kind of trouble. And trouble, believe me, we have plenty out on the roaring, roistering frontier. Of course, a lot of our troubles aren't brought to me, they just happen. Like the trouble we had just a few weeks ago. Mister, that was bad trouble, real bad trouble. Cherokee O'Bannon, the ex-medicine man who runs the Dos Rios livery stable, now that he's reformed, somewhat. Had gone with me to the judges for supper. To Cherokee, the principal attraction was the supper. Me, it was the judge's daughter, Libby. Well, we were finishing off one of Libby's lemon sponge pies when... Is something wrong, Cherokee? No, come on, Cherokee, there is something wrong. You're sitting at your cup as if you'd never seen coffee before. Oh, come on, O'Bannon, the judge and Libby have caught you with your jaw down, what's wrong? Well, to be perfectly honest with you, I was just reflecting on what a spot of brandy might do to enhance the flavor of this mocha and java. Well, Cherokee, I haven't got any brandy, but I have got a bit of wine. Wine? My dear Jack! Jack, that sounds as if there's trouble down in town. Sure does, Libby, and from the little I can see here, so close to the window, I'd say someone's raiding the Wells Fargo office. Wells Fargo? Libby, you stay here. Cherokee, get the judge's rifle off the wall, let's get going fast. By the time we got our horses back into town, a posse had already mounted up and was streaking out of Dos Rios, following the bandits who headed for the hills over the rickety wooden bridge across the White River. There was no moon, and under the somber awning of blackness, there was little to follow but the receding sound of the hoof beats which led further and further up a gradually narrowing trail into the far rocky regions of the hills. By this time, we were sure we'd lost him, and the Marshal called the halt to hold a council of war. Well, Marshal, what do we do now? I can't say right off, Judge, and I got a pretty good notion and a leader of that bunch was Ab Cleaver. He's been pulling raids not too far from here, legally. Well, even though I've heard this Cleaver gentle as smart as a rattlesnake back to Louis Hole, I think he's making a mistake this time. What do you mean, Cherokee? Marshal, I think Cherokee means they've ridden in the sort of a cul-de-sac bottleneck. Because except for Lars Peterson's ranch, there's nothing back up in those hills but rim rock that runs straight up, and the headwaters of the White River. Chad, I do believe you're right. Once they ride past Peterson's ranch, they literally have their backs to the wall, and we can starve them out. Well, I'll be doggunned. Durned if you're all not right. Mac, you take four men and crawl up to the rim behind them two creeks up there that flow into the river. Have a dozen of you other fellows go with my Chief Deputy Andy Thomas and form a half-circle down here. The rest of us will go back to town, get some more ammunition and rifles. We'll be back up here by sun up to give you some relief and close in on them blasted crooks. What's it, Cherokee? Riding around this rim the way you're siloed? You make a perfect target if any of you... Well, he blew blazes, Chad. That drilled a hole right through my statue. Well, it proves one thing. We're not going to catch him napping. Can you see any of our boys around here? Let me see now. Yes. Isn't that the Chief Deputy Andy Thomas squirting down behind that... Come on, Mr. O'Bannon. Your hats are full of holes. Now it's starting to look like a beehive. And believe me, I'm no honey. Or am I? Get up there! Oh, boy. Hold it. Anything happen, Andy? Nothing but that sniping. Can you see them down there? Nope. Just a puff of smoke when they throw a shot up here. Well, the Marshal said he'd be up with some lunch for you around noon time. In the meantime, here are two extra rifles and 300 rounds of shells and a spyglass that the judge's father used at Gettysburg. Oh, thanks, Chad. And tell the Marshal not to forget a plug of my charm tobacco. All up here for Gus knows how. Chad, ain't you listening to me? Oh, I'm sorry, Andy. I was looking down to where they got Cleaver and his gang sewed up. Without ladders, they'll never be able to get up here, but they could move off to the east a few hundred yards and come up behind the Peterson Place. If they did, with what supplies they could get from there, this siege might last for months. I'd like to see them try it. Mars Peterson and Helger are about the two most stubborn Swedes I ever encountered. Wouldn't buy a bottle of my rattlesnake oil for two bits. They'd fight Cleaver and his whole gang to a fairly well. Well, just the same. I think the thing to do is to go back to town and call a little strategy meeting. What we've got to do is figure every possible move Cleaver might make and have some counter tactics ready. Well, you can't lose nothing by getting your heads together. Just a few heads. There isn't a person in this entire valley who has the time to spare two months until Cleaver is starved out. If he does manage to get some supplies. Town found that nefarious, no good nitwit. When I get back to town, I'm going to write Mr. Stetson a letter. What we need out here is a Hattus bulletproof. Not only did we need Hattus, it was bulletproof, but we found we needed a lot of help. Cleaver wasn't just shrewd as a cat amount. He was a man who was willing to take a chance. However, as we had figured it out, Cleaver had made a mistake. Apparently when he laid his plans for the Wells Fargo raid, he'd counted on crossing the river and getting away. But instead of crossing the Red River, which had Meadowland on its opposite bank, he crossed the White. Found himself with his back to the rocks on one side and the headwaters on the other. That was about the only joyful note I could sound in the whole meeting with the judge in the march or call for early that evening. Friends! Friends, won't you please quiet down? As much as we want your help and ideas, we can't hear anything if you all try talking at the same time. All right, Chad, would you go on with what you were saying? Well, it's not much more, Judge. I just think with no moon tonight, it'd be a good idea if we could sneak about a dozen men up to Lars Peterson's place, just in case Cleaver gets the same idea that I got. That's a good idea. I think it's a good idea. And just to start the ball of rolling, I'll volunteer to be one of those men myself. The way the canyon lays, if Cleaver ever gets wise, he can pick us off one by one and we'll never get anybody to Peterson's. What's more, if we do get men up to Peterson's, what happens if they try to break out some other way? What about there? Please, please, folks, not all at once. After all, the Marshall's in charge. What do you think, Marshall? Well, if we could get some of her men into Peterson's, it'd certainly stop Cleaver from... Oh, Marshall, Marshall, wait a minute. Look who just came in. Helga Peterson. He's good. You're from here for the meeting because I come here with bad news. Bad news, Helga. Blazing blue blisters. Bad news. Now what? Oh, come on, Helga. You'd better come up here on the platform so we can all hear you. This is the most awful thing. Nothing so bad ever happened to me, never. Yes, but what is it, Helga? What happened? Those bad men, those crooks. They break into our house. Oh, no, friends. Sidewinders. Now we are inferred. What happened to your husband? What happened to Lars? Lars's fight. He fight all he could. He fight like wild men, but those outlaws beat him on the head and take him prisoner. How does that mean you got away, Olga? He didn't get away. They let me go and tell me to come down here and give you a message on why Jompen Yemen is the worst job I ever had to do. And that crook Ab Cleaver, he say, unless you get him and his men out of Kenyon and ride away, they dam up headwaters of White River, and they blow up them and flood out Hortown. No, no, no, no. Don't go getting excited. They can't flood the town. It's impossible. I'm afraid it's not impossible, Marshal. Where they're located, they could dam up that water in no time. Already, they got men damming up water. And with the water dammed up, even a child could divert it into the town on the town. If that's not what I say, do it. Let them crooks loose. You can't be serious. I can't, can't I? You think we're gonna lose our ranchers and our stores and everything we own just to catch some sidewind and crooks who haven't done us any harm? That's right, now. Folks, friends, are you a lot of sheep? Are you going to let a low-down double-died common murderer stampede you into cowardice? Why, and take it from a man who knows, if you will cede to this nefarious demand, you will never be able to live with yourselves. For shame! Neighbors, neighbors, maybe I haven't always been right, but I think everyone here will grant that I've never consciously worked against the interest of my friends in my town. What are you doing, Chad? Running for congressman? This is no matter for life when this is serious. And even though Ed Cleaver is holding me, your husband is what you call it. He's hostage. I say keep Helga here to start with. No sense sending her back to suffer along with Lars. And when Helga doesn't come back, that'll be Cleaver's answer. By the time he realizes that is his answer, we ought to be able to figure something out and come ebb tide or high water, we'll fight for this valley like men. Not like the yellow-spined cowards, those alhoots really are. We'll return to the second act of Guns of Wrath, our exciting Frontier Town adventure, in just a few moments. And now Frontier Town. Like I said before, this was trouble, real trouble. And even though I did pull a politician's spell-binding trick assuring everyone that we'd fight back successfully, I honestly didn't think Ab Cleaver would do any more than dam up the water to frighten us. And that was because I didn't know Ab Cleaver. As I learned later from Lars Peterson, Cleaver didn't wait very long. Scarcely an hour after the time he figured Helga ought to be back with our word of acquiescence, Cleaver walked out to where his men would gather around the Willowbrush Dam they'd built. Well, Ab, you'll later get back. No, we ain't gonna wait. I'm gonna show him that when Ab Cleaver says something, he means it. It's okay with me, boys. Me and the boys already got the powder planted under the dam. All we gotta do is light the fuse and 10 million gallons of water will come rushing down on those reels like it was Judgement Day. Well, what are you waiting for? You got matches, ain't ya? Light the fuse. You know, sir, ma'am, this is gonna be more fun than the 4th of July. She's lit, boys. Now, stay! It crossed me up, and Dos Rios was under water. But the strange thing was, and we could see it from our vantage point up in the rocks at Crow's Nest, the town wasn't wiped out. Far from it, it was just as if the river had swollen in a flash spring flood flowed over its banks and covered the streets of the town with about three feet of silt-filled muddy water. Now, the judge, Libby Cherokee, and I punted this. Tried to figure it out as we looked down on the sod in town. Why, this is no worse than that spring flood we had when I was a little girl. Maybe not even as bad. No question about it, Libby. And I, for one, can't make it out. You think Cleaver figures that with only a few feet of water, he could get back into town, and then he let the rest of it loose and really drown us? Well, with a man like that, I suppose anything's possible. Not this time. Because if he had wanted to drown us, he could have done it in the first place. Why, George, you're right. What do you make of it, Chad? I don't know exactly, George, but I'm sure there must have been some reason for it. Just trying to put myself in Ab Cleaver's place and figure out what he could possibly have had in... What? You see? See, way down there, just kind of picking their way into town. You can just barely make them out. There's eight horses, and I reckon they got eight men on their backs. I see them, Chad. But who are they? What do you think they're up to? Well, unless I miss my guess... And you miss plenty this trip. Well, those men are Ab Cleaver and his gang. If they wanted to get away, they wouldn't be heading back again toward town. Is that right? Yes. I guess so. I think they let loose a portion of that water to clear the town. And now that the town's cleared, they're going back in, completely unmolested to help themselves to anything and everything they can find. Of all the obnoxious, audacious, dashedly things. Here we are, way up here. And if we start down toward town, they'll be able to pick us off like flies. Having house flies, of course, not the horse fly, who is quite sagacious and wiring. Chad, can't we do something? You bet we can. Now, look, we're up here on the high ground, just as they were. Except that we're up on the headwaters of the Red River. So what's to stop us from pulling the same trick they pulled and threatening to let the whole Red River down on them unless they give up? After the unfortunate advice you gave everybody, Chad, already, do you think that you have any influence left with them? Well, maybe not. But I never yet ruled a man off a triumph. So what do you say? Let's go to these rocks and over to the mesa where the rest of the folks are gathered. Don't go on it, Chad. Two wrongs don't make a right. If we damned up the Red River, we might finish those reels for fair. By yours, that's what I say, on office or not. Let them croaks get away. Let's get back to our home. That's what I mean. But you can't. You can't quit when you've gone this far. Now, look, don't you see, when we'll get back up in the hills and start building the dam, I can circle down with a marshal and a posse and we'll have them cut off. Caught between the front, we can let loose on them. And enough lead to make a lot of them look like lace curtains. It's just a trick, a trap. Chad just wants to threaten them. And if Cleaver won't give up and you don't want to let the water down on them, you don't have to. Folks, this time, Chad's right. I'm blamed if I don't think so. If you folks are willing to help, me and my men will risk our lives. Won't we, boys? What do you look at me for, Marshal? Well, if we ride, you'll ride with us, won't you, Cherokee? Well, when you put it that way, Chad, they're... Yes! And what about the rest of you? All right, then. Let's knock on these horses. You were right. See, those men are ransacking the stores and loading everything they can onto their horses. Well, how are you going to pow out with Cleaver from here? You just watch, Cherokee. He's stopped by the Quakies! He sees you, Chad. See? They're looking up here. Uh-huh. You've written yourself into a trap by coming back into Dos Rios. I'm here with the Marshal and a 20-man Posse. The rest of the town is back up in the hills. They're all set to let the Red River roar down behind you. Now, if you've got any brains at all, you'll quit. This is the Marshal, Cleaver. And we're giving you just one minute to make up your mind. Well, I'll be hanged. I'll take that back. I'll be, uh, blamed. You see them? They've all got their heads together, talking it over. Chad, I believe this is going to work. It looks like they've made their minds up. Get in there, man, to throw your guns into the street. We're coming down. All right, boys. Let's get going. You were feeling good. Me, in particular, as we threaded our ways through the aspens, came out in the lane on the back of High Baxter's ranch and headed through the water and mud into town. A few seconds after the Marshal told the boys to spread out... Spread out, boys! Cover both ends of the street. Cherokee suddenly nudged me and pointed to something. Chad, isn't that someone trying to get away through the alley? You're a dog gone right, it is. And if I'm not mistaken, it's Ab Cleaver. Come on, Cherokee. I'm sure going to need your help. Cleaver, the farther you run now, the farther you're going to bounce later when I drag you back to town. Oh, so that's the way you want to play, huh? Chad, you're wearing your gun. What's the matter with you? Perforate that perfidious pull through. Nothing doing, Cherokee. I got plans for that, wasn't it? He jumped off his horse and ran behind that piece of down timber. Dog gone at this time, we got him. Oh, boy. Easy. Down, Cherokee, flatten. You old fake. This time I'm going to trust my life to you and you dog gone well better be careful with it. What do you mean? What are you going to do? Well, while you stay behind this rock and cover me, I'm going to belly crawl across this clearing, pull him out from behind that log and beat his brains out. If he has any. Chad, for goodness sakes, be careful. I'll be cautious. You be careful. Careful where you shoot covering me. And that makes six. All right, Cleaver, your gun's empty, I reckon, and my fists are loaded. Now come here. You loudmouth, sneak it out. You won't be loudmouth. You're not going to even be able to talk. Don't, don't. All right, Cherokee. I've bruised my knuckles on this pole cat's chin. He'll grab him and sling him over your horse. They're going back to town loaded with skunk. Now, Miss Libby, after all that exertion, how about another piece of your lemon-spun's pie? Why, certainly, Cherokee. More coffee? I guess Cherokee will take a second cup of coffee if you, well, if you give him something to put in it. Well, I still have that wine in the cupboard. Hell no, Judge, I really don't. No, no, wait, wait just a minute. What kind of wine is it, Judge? It's a very wonderful, rare old port. I'd rather think. No, Cherokee, Cherokee. Now, now, don't say you're going to turn down a libation. A little port wine? Indeed, sir, I am not. Because with a man of my character, it's any port to store. Frontier Town starring Tex Chandler is a Bruce L's production. Story and supervision by Joel Murcock. Direction by Paul Franklin. Music written and played by Ivan Dittmarz. 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.