 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, there are some folks who think the life of a lawyer in a Frontier Town like Osreos is a pretty dull existence in comparison with cowboys or ranchers. But just you take it from me, Chad Remington, that my days trying to practice law in a cow town are a lot more exciting than if I'd stayed out at the ranch my father built and left me when he died a few years ago. Oh, I don't mean that I'm up to my boot tops in rustling trouble or shooting it out with gents on the dodge from the law all the way from San Antonio to Santa Fe. But with the type of character the Frontier has attracted, we've got just about as many scheming evildoers as we have solid church-going people. Well, just to give you an idea, a few weeks back when the new spring hit us with a vengeance and the sky overhead was as blue as a mountain lake, I took a ride to see how the trout were doing in a little pool that only I know about. With me, as usual, was my constant companion Cherokee O'Bannon, who gave up his daily tips with the law for selling the highly volatile alleged remedy known as genuine Cherokee Indian rattlesnake oil for the more peaceful pursuits of operating a livery stable. A livery stable, by the way, over which I have my not very plushy offices. Well, Cherokee and I were jogging along with our legs hooked over the horns on our saddles, thinking ahead just about three weeks to the time when the big trout would be raring up hungry. Chad might be wielded in bucolic backwoods, black stone. What trainer thought is running through your cunning cerebellum which causes that simpering look to appear in your formerly forbidding physiognomy? From the inflection of your voice, Cherokee, I imagine that was a question. But what you wanted to know, I'm unable to decipher since I don't carry a dictionary in my saddle bag. Amieland, I was just asking what you were thinking about that gave you that faraway and dreamy look. I was just thinking about that clear blue stream and that wonderful cool deep water. No, never mention that word in my presence again. All right, old Bannon. I want you to know that your favorite beverage owes its flavor, if any, to the limestone waters of Bourbon County, Kentucky. Well, is that so? Why did he put a flavor saving? Labor saving? Ah, yes, indeed. Bottling the tracer right along with the spirits. And I hope after this, Mr. O'Bannon, you'll have more respect for H2O. Ah, between us, my esteemed friend. H2O comprised 96% of my rattlesnake oil, too. Kill the taste. The only thing that could kill the taste of that stuff is about three shots. Three shots? An excellent suggestion. Three shots from a Colt 45, I mean. Sir, you're turning into a destroyer of dreams. Your landlord, let me advise you that hereafter, I expect you to... Hold it, Cherokee. There are some shots the kind I was talking about. Now, get your knee on hook from that saddle horn and let's start making tracks. That sounds like a regular gun battle. Get up there, you! Come on, Cherokee. This thing sounds serious. We'd only ridden about 100 yards, but I was able to see where the shots had come from. Right down below us was a little ranch house belonging to Pat and Bridget Antrim. They're as nourished as they come and twice as salty. Both Bridget and Pat were in front of their house. Bridget with a shotgun and Pat with a winch as descendant lead singing over the head of a very frightened gentleman in store-bought clothes. As we pulled up, I thought the stranger was about to collapse. His knees were shaking so... And what my wife misses with her scuttled gun oil, drill you through with this. Bridget, Pat, now hold it, will you? Put those guns up. They're part of this, Chad Rimmington. And you keep out of this, too. Because in a baronel knot, I'll give you a dose of the same medicine I'm going to give this sniveling sidewind and snake. Gentlemen, gentlemen, get me out of here. Well, we'll get you out, all right, mister, and all in one piece. Now, come on, the target practice is over for today. No one's going to tell me... No one's going to tell you anything, Bridget. If you don't mind, I would like to ask you a few questions. No one's asking me anything until that pussy-foot environment's off my property. Well, now get off it. But see here, I've got a perfect... The only perfect thing you've got right now, my friend, is a perfect chance of getting shot. So if you'll take Mr. Rimmington's advice, which he'll be charged for, you'll have a lot of here while you're able and give us a chance of quieting down these good people. If you're interested in your health, you'll be moving along. Yes, very well. But I'll be back out here with the marshal. And you just remember that. What I should have done was salivate him before he makes any more trouble. Yes, indeed. However, since thanks to Chad, he's now well out of rifle range, I suggest that we repair inside and talk this over over something refreshing and companionable. You know what I mean? I think you do, or I hope you do. We certainly do understand. Bridget Cherokee wants a glass of your coldest spring water. Well, I don't know what more to tell you, Chad, or how to explain it. He just rode up here and started ordering us around. Well, I can't tell without checking up on it with the county assessor, but it's perfectly true that when the county put in that wooden culvert five years ago to drain the water off Pine Top Hill, they did levy an assessment on the button property. Didn't you ever get a bill from the assessor? Nearly so much as a piece of paper with a blot of ink and no slick-talking spell-peen is going to steal 160 acres that Paternoy have slaved again. And to make something of? Well, it's something that remains to be seen. However, here are two things which are certain. First, that there was an assessment levyed of about $20 or $30 against your property. Second, if it hasn't been paid and it's gone to an assessment foreclosure sale, Mr. Beauregard has the right any citizen has of paying it and bidding in the property. You're a fine lawyer if you tell me that's the law. Bridget, I don't make the laws. I just try to interpret them. See that they're applied with a certain amount of justice. And you call it justice? That a man like that evil-looking bumpkin Beauregard can steal 160 acres that are worth $5,000 by merely paying $20? Quite the opposite, Pat. There's a good deal of injustice in it. But the first thing Cherokee and I are going to do is ride into town and talk to the Marshal. And I want to know if the assessment was and really is and if Beauregard is already aborted in or is just bluffing. Well, Cherokee and I had hardly ridden out through the fence of Pat and Bridget's place when we spotted Mr. Beauregard sitting his horse waiting for us. He flagged us down. Much to my surprise was neither bidding nor belligerent. I thought I recognized your name, Mr. Remington. When your friend mentioned it. Well, you're being a lawyer. I'm sure that you know that those two heathens haven't a legal leg to stand on. Don't you go calling people from County Ants from Heathen? Oh, well, I'm terribly sorry. Just a slip of the tongue. The hell you do it again and I'll slip the tongue for you. I'll do it with theirs. All right, Cherokee. You've upheld the reputation of all the Irish from Kalani to, well, in your case, the Blonnie Stone. Now, getting back to you, Mr. Beauregard, as you say, Pat and Bridget seem to have no legal redress. Well, that's because of the way the law is written. Loop holes up to here. Yeah, the law's the law, isn't it? Well, there appears to be two kinds of law. What's on the books and what's fair and honest. And if you think I'm going to stand by and permit you to steal 160 of the choicest acres in the entire Dos Rios Valley away from two hard-working people, Mr., you may know my name, but you don't know me. Are you trying to intimidate me, Remington? Oh, no, far from it. Now, I think you're a smart man Beauregard. Therefore, I'm just giving you what is known as a word to the wise. Because I'll fight you through every court in the state if I have to. And I may even fight you a bit more personally. Anybody who'd do what you attempted to do is nothing but a nefarious nickel nursing no good. And you don't have to partly express it, neither. Well, let me tell you something. Neither you nor anyone else is going to stop me from taking what is legally mine when I paid for it. If you're around long enough to even try it. Come on. Chad, maybe you start out today to see about fishing for trout. I've got a feeling that for a while now we're going to be angling for a slimy ol' octopus. Come on, let's get back home. Chad, how can you explain them leveling an assessment against the Antrim's ranch and never sending them a notice? I don't explain it. In five years their memories might have turned a little sour. Then how do you explain this Beauregard person to a complete total stranger to this part of the country? Suddenly showing up in Dolce and buying in a delinquent claim even the owners of the property knew nothing about. Well, that could be more than a coincidence. And if it happens... Chad, that last stock quarter might do pay in a new place. For God's sakes, Cherokee, fill your hand. Get your gun working. I see them now. Five of them up there in those rocks. Well, let's make it three of them. They're scattering, heading for pint up. Come on, Cherokee, let's go. Small, sacred swans. Chad, where'd they go? Can't see, hide their hair up. They're hidden by those rocks. We'll get them. Come on. Wait a minute. There's someone coming toward us. Out of those rocks. Confound the luck. It's so narrow through here we'll never get by him without... Ah, look who it is, our friend, Mr. Beauregard. What are you doing up there, Beauregard? Gentlemen, I was out hunting. Hunting for skunks. That answer your question? Hair, sure does. Get out of the way, man. We want to get through here. You can curb your anxiety, Cherokee. It's too late now, thanks to Beauregard. What do you mean by that? I think you understand what I mean. Just the way I understood you when you said you were out hunting for skunks. Oh, really? No, O'Bannon. Beauregard, if Cherokee and I look like a couple of skunks to you, you need glasses. Because we have spines running down our backs, not stripes. After this little set, too, I suspect you'll soon be wearing stripes. Stripes that run the other way. You'll be wearing them for a good long time. We'll return to the second act of land grab, our exciting Frontier Town adventure in just a few moments. And now Frontier Town. Pretty obvious that Beauregard was neither as meek nor as mild as he originally had acted. It's a lead pipe since that he had some gunslingers of his own who either tried to make certain that Cherokee and I never got any further into the matter or would be sufficiently warned to leave well enough alone. But all he succeeded in doing was in convincing me that there was something navish going on. If there were a polecat in the woodpile, it would answer to the name of Beauregard. Well, Cherokee and I wasted no time in getting to town and to the Marshal's office. But the time was wasted and the results disappointment. Marshal, do you mean to stand there with your Marshal's bat hanging out and telling me that you're going to help Beauregard take possession of that 160 acres? I got my job to do Cherokee and that's part of it. But how is it, Marshal, that not only didn't the Antrims know of the delinquency, but apparently nobody else in Dos Rios did? What do you mean? I thought I was making myself pretty clear. Apparently the only person to know about the assessment not being paid is a total stranger. And as far as I know, a man who's never been in Dos Rios before. Don't make no difference if you come from China. A law says that anybody can check the records and bid in property on which the taxes or assessments haven't been paid. Well, that scarcely answers my question. Now, you look here, Remington. This ain't no trial, you know. If you know anything about the law like you claim you do, you'll know that Beauregard is fully protected. Yeah, I can see that he's fully protected. Well, I'm blessed you anyhow. I don't like that kind of hinting around. And if you try to interfere, you're going to find out that I ain't wearing this badge for nothing. No, Marshal, I don't think you are wearing that badge for nothing. I'm beginning to think you've decided to make that badge pay off. Why? Come on, Cherokee. The Marshal looks as if he's going to blow up. My clothes won't look too good all splattered with yellow. Next day we heard that Beauregard had hired several men to rip out the Antrim's fences and put up a fence of his own. So Cherokee and I decided to write out there. There's something wrong, terribly wrong, but I still didn't know what it was. I'm warning you now. You pull another finse post and you can use it for a class on your grave. Marshal, Marshal, I demand that this horn be ejected for my property. Demand and be hanged. Well, just a minute, Beauregard. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to see the deed transfer in the title of this property to you. Cherokee, you better keep out of this. Thanks, Marshal, but I'm here to give advice to my clients and not to take advice from you. Now, where's that deed? Go on, Beauregard. Show it to me. Well... Well, all right. Here. Seems to be in order. What do you mean, it seems to be? Are you estimating that I forged that deed or something? I'm not estimating anything. I'm just speaking my mind. If you have a mind, you'll get out of here before you get into trouble. Any trouble you or your kind might make for me will be very welcome. Get out of my way, chatter. I'll take care of you. Now, hold it, Bridget. Cherokee, hang on. I'll do it again. I can't promise mine. Let me add that thief. If I dare, call me a thief. Now, would you rather be calling something else? A cheap snivelin crook, for instance? In fact, I can think of a long list, by you contemptible... Yes. That's it, Saddle, call him again. It's not his tip, I'll burn out his anyhow. Next time you jump someone with no warning, Beauregard, let this... I'm demanding that you arrest this man. Arrest him? Because you attacked him? Oh, Bannon, if you don't want to go to lock up, too, you keep out of this. You mean you think you're actually going to arrest me? Well, I most certainly do. I've warned you before. Now, maybe you'll learn your lesson after you've had 60 days to think it over. Oh, now, wait a minute. What's the charge? Ain't no charge at all. It's all free at the town's expense. Well, what I want to write on that docket runs all the way from trespassing right on up through a salt and battery, so come on. Judge and his daughter's here to see you, Remington. Well, Judge, this is a fine place to look up your intended son, Lloyd. Cherokee told us what happened, Chad. This is an outrage. You mean you'll marry a jailbird, maybe? If he ever gets around to asking me, am I? Chad, if you'd like, I'll sign an order getting you out of here. I certainly would like it, Judge. Not because you sell so bad, but because I still have a case to wind up. Hey, goodbye, Marshal. We don't need you around. I don't need you, neither. Judge, how well are you acquainted with the Attorney General of the state? Ralph Stevenson? Known him and his family for years. Chad, do you really think you're in trouble? Not yet, but I might be. Judge, if you can induce the Attorney General to come down here, I think we have a nice little case to try in your court in a few days. What do you want the Attorney General down here for? Well, you and I know that Borogad acquired that 160 acres. Legal? Legal or not. It's a despicable trick on two people who are hardworking as Pat and Bridget are. Well, there's Borogad and the Marshal to be sure of me several times recently. The law is the law. However, if what I suspect is true, there's another law with a lot more justice in it. The one that I think fills the bill, fills it completely. What law is that, Chad? Well, offhand I hear I can't give you the book and page number, but it deals with a Marshal conniving with a third party for the benefit of his own bankroll. Can you believe the Marshal is in with Borogad? Probably. But it's more likely that Borogad is just in front for the Marshal. And I think with the assistance of the Attorney General, we can find out. Well, I'm sorry, Chad, but I don't quite see what you mean. Well, if your father will help get Ralph Stevenson down here, we'll all see what I mean. I'll personally be delighted to sweep out this cell before I leave it, so it'll be nice and clean and the Marshal will take over. Mr. Stevenson, I know what I'm asking is absolutely irregular, but if you land a hand, it might be worth a lot of votes with the election coming up. Well, election or not, I'm in favor of your little idea, and you can count on my help. Good. Thank you. Have you got this morning's paper, Cherokee, with that advertisement in it? Here you are, Mr. Stevenson. There's Borogad's ad Yes, well, it certainly substantiates what you suspect, Remington. But since we can't get a conviction on what we suspect, I say let's go to work. Are you sure that you've never seen this Borogad before? Well, unless I met him when he was using an alias, absolutely not. All right, Cherokee, you get us a couple of bandanas with holes cut out while I take Mr. Stevenson to the bank to get some money. Not meaning to seem you're looking about this, but have you thought what might happen to us if we get shot by a conniving counselor? I certainly have, Cherokee. We'll bury you up at the Antrim Place right next to the well, so you'll always have a chaser handy. And would you care to ride out and cede the property, Mr. Stevenson? Well, I wish I could, Mr. Borogad, but being in town for only a few hours between stagecoaches prevents it. Oh, it's as lovely a place as I've ever seen. Well, since I don't want it for my own use, but it's sort of a, well, a vacation place for my parents, I'm quite willing to take your word for it. That is, if you'll accept my offer. Well, my asking price is $6,000. Oh, and my paying price is $4,000. No, no, no, I can't consider it. It's all cash, with 50% down, right now? 50% down? Right here, $2,000 in bills. You just give me a temporary receipt and I'll be back next week to give you the balance. Is it a deal? Indeed it is. Give me that $2,000 and I'll be here waiting for you when you come back. Huh, Borogad, I got the hand at the U. A deep deposit of $2,000 in cash. Well, I can't hardly believe it. Well, you don't have to believe it. Here's your share. $1,000 in nice, crisp new bills. And there's still 16 other towns left in this county. Well, I'll tell you, there's one more place we can clamp down on just as soon as this keeps... All right, just keep your hands where I can see them. Pardon? We'll leave the marshal of that money. Deed I will, deed I will. Are you two locals breaking into the marshal's office and sticking us up? If I were you, I'd shut up. Here, my boy. Here's that lovely green stuff. Just as crisp as lettuce. All right, now I'll go call Stevenson. Yes, Mr. Stevenson. I'll get him right in here. Come in, Mr. Stevenson. Good, good. I see you've got the money. So that was your scheme. Get a receipt for my property and then steal the money back. Only a crook like you would think of a trick like that. These are bills you mark, Mr. Stevenson. They most certainly are. If you go through the window, I can see they were in the marshal's possession. Now, as Attorney General, wouldn't you say that's about a 25-year crime? Attorney General! Cherokee, grab him! Now, Cherokee, if you wipe your battered knuckles and take the cell keys off the marshal's belt, we've got a few skunks of our own to lock up. Chad, I could kiss you for all the help you've been. I'm not declining the honor, Bridget, but O'Bannon here deserves half the reward. Reward? For a man of my little character, couldn't you suggest something more suitable? If you know what I mean. Ah, nothing to it. The only thing you're getting a drink is water. Well, water, I'd rather drink yours. Yours? What's yours? I've got you there, my boy. Mine will be six fingers of bourbon, and I want it quick. Frontier Town, starring Tex Chandler and featuring Wade Crosby, is a Bruce L's 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.