 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. In's Howdy, this is Chad Remington. Of course, if you don't know who Chad Remington is, let's just say that I'm supposed to be a lawyer and that my headquarters are in the bustling and noisy Frontier Town called Osreous. Naturally, there's not too much law business in a cow town on the Frontier, but I managed to get by what with the troubles most folks seem to stir up or run into. Of course, like most everyone else, I do own a ranch which was left me by my father when he died a few years ago. And it's this combination, part-time attorney and part-time rancher, which plummeted me into the adventure I'd like to tell you about now. So settle back, close your eyes, and see if you can conjure up this mental picture. A few days back, I was riding for my ranch into Dos Reyes, accompanied by the ex-medicine man, Cherokee O'Bannon. Constable, I say Chad. What is it, Cherokee? What brilliant idea have you thought up now? Oh, none, Chad, none at all. However, I was about to make an observation. I thought it would be something like that. Every time I see the cooking sherry in my kitchen go down four or five inches, a few minutes later, you come up with a brilliant observation. What is it this time? First off, sir, I suggest you refrain from poking fun at the healthy stimulation provided by alcoholic vectors. And in the second place, can you explain to me why, owning as nice a little ranch as you do, you continue to risk your life daily by the so-called practice of law? Probably for the same reason that you abandoned your medicine van and your genuine Cherokee Indian rattlesnake oil and bought out the Dos Reyes livery stable. You mean the sheriff was about to catch up with you, too? No, no, I don't. And that isn't the real reason why you quit peddling patent medicine. You were looking for a permanent business you could build up just as I'm looking for a profession I can fall back on in my old age. Now, if you ever lived to an old age, why are the crooks and desperados around this part of the country have taken more shots at you than Santa Ana and his whole army through at the Elmo? What are these days? Your luck is going to run it? Chad, do you see what I see? Look, down there in the, where I'm pointing on the road. A great big wagon. Now, what in the... Cherokee, it's a patent medicine van. A medicine wagon. It certainly is. Although from here I'm unable to recognize who it might belong to. What do you say, Cherokee? You want to go down there and find out and have a little reunion? I most assuredly do. If I find it's an old friend of mine. This is Chad. Those rascals up on that hill are trying to ambush that wagon. They most assuredly are. All right, come on, Cherokee. Even for a medicine man, the odds down there are two doggone on even. We're both wearing six irons. Let's see what we can do if we really try. I don't know who it was trying to ambush the medicine show wagon or why. But when they found a pair of Colt 44s on the other side of the battle, they wasted no time beating a hasty retreat and vanishing into the woods. Cherokee and I chased them until we realized it was futile. Then we came back to where the medicine van had stopped. What happened here? Was anybody hurt? Yeah, they shot my man, my spieler dog. Was he killed or just shot up? For yourself, I'd better see I don't look. He's still breathing, but a few inches higher and he would have breathed his last. Where'd they get him, Chad? Through the neck? Through the neck and the throat. Look, it's all right. He's alive. Yeah, he's alive right now, Miss. But unless we get him into dosaries and to the doctors, he certainly won't stay that way. Cherokee, you trail my horse back to town. I'll get up here on the seat with this young lady and drive a wagon. As soon as we've gotten this man to the doctors, I'll meet you back at my office. Right you are, Chad. I'll tell the doctor you're coming. All right, young lady. Up on the seat again. There we are. I'll drive as slowly as I can so we don't jostle him too much. But at the rate he's losing blood, unless we find the doctor and have him taken care of, this man's not going to last much longer. All right, get up there. Come on now. Fortunately, our town physician, our only physician, was in his office when we arrived in Dos Reyes. He saved the poor chap's life, but he told us it would be a month or even two before he'd be able to use his voice again. Find thing for a medicine show spealer, no voice. However, knowing that he would live was a relief to the young lady. And as soon as we had made the wounded man comfortable, we both went over to my office to meet Cherokee. Miss, I'm afraid in all excitement out at Blue Bottle Canyon, I didn't get your name. Schiller. Gratch on Schiller. Schiller? Well, then you must be related to Alfred Schiller. Alfred Schiller was my father. Was? Papa died last spring. You knew Miss Schiller's father, Cherokee? No, I didn't know him, Chad, but I heard about him. In the fraternity, Alfred Schiller was supposed to be the only legitimate itinerant purveyor of medicines and nostrums. Oh, the way you talk, you sound like a medicine man yourself. A former medicine man. Cherokee hawked his genuine Cherokee Indian rattlesnake oil to the unsuspecting public in nine states and two territories. Rattlesnake oil? That is good. Well, containing 85% alcohol, after drinking half a pint of Cherokee's rattlesnake oil, the patient thought he felt better. What is it you sell? Well, my Papa, he was a physician from Austria, but when he had office in Boston, he developed consumption, so he prescribed for himself. That is why we bought medicine wagon and came out west where Papa could get fresh air. That's true, Chad. I heard about Alfred Schiller from a lot of other medicine men who had the pleasure of knowing him. Schiller's prescriptions and remedies were legitimate. You can buy them just the way you can buy a prescription from a physician. But with my assistant, Doc, short so that he cannot talk, I'm afraid nobody will be able to buy Dr. Schiller's remedies because there will be nobody to sell them. Ah, yes, that is unfortunately true. Is it Cherokee? Why couldn't you substitute for a few weeks until Doc gets his voice back? Cherokee, you are able to do that? You can mark what they call spiel? I do not wish to seem a modest, Miss Gretchen, but I have been known as the Silver Tongue Order wherever I have spoken. And after a successful day, they chained Silver Tongue to Thick Tongue. But seriously, Cherokee, would you be willing to help me, Schiller? Ah, it would be wonderful if you would do that for me, because if I do not make sales, then I have no money, and if I have no money, I must sell out. You must sell out? Yeah. You see, there is another medicine man who now for two years has been trying to buy out my father's remedies on medicine show. Who might that be, Miss Schiller? A man Papa could not abide, and I do not like. He calls himself Dr. Pascoe. Dr. Pascoe? Dr. Pascoe? You know him too, Cherokee? Do I? Dr. Pascoe was one of the most scurrilous, underhanded, vicious blots on the name of the entire fraternity of medicine man. Why, he's so crooked they wouldn't even let him run the shell game to traveling fare. Well, this is throwing a mighty wide loop, but that may supply the answer as to just who it was that shot up the wagon at Bluebottle Canyon. No, no, no. This is hard to believe, even of a man like Pascoe, no. 10, this is easy to believe. Mr. Pascoe would love nothing better than to get a hold of Dr. Schiller's legitimate formula so he can stay in business. Well, we're all getting exorcised over something which is just pure guesswork. But if Dr. Pascoe is around those risks, we'd better help Miss Schiller get her wagon out to the exposition grounds and set up for her afternoon show. Come on, Miss Gretchen. That's the exposition grounds straight ahead. We'll just set the wagon, Billy Blueblazer's chat. Do you see what's there? Seems to be another wagon in the exposition grounds ahead of us. This means trouble, real trouble. That wagon belongs to Pascoe. Pascoe, huh? Well, the way I'm feeling now, I'm glad he's here because I intend to make mighty short work of that gentleman. But you can't have two medicine wagons putting on two shows, Chad? I know that, Cherokee, and what I said before still goes. Oh, oh, there. Yes, are you Pascoe? No, resting up for this afternoon show. Well, tell the doctor there's not going to be any afternoon show and that I want to see him. Well, I told you the doctor's resting. He's have to have a long rest, a permanent rest unless he gets out here and talks to me. You think you're mighty sorely, don't you? Look, why don't you go and do as you're told? Why don't you go and stick your head in a well? Because I'm not calling Dr. Pascoe for you or anybody else. Well, then I'll go in and get him out of there myself. Oh, no, you don't. If you get back on that crummy wagon you drove in on, you're going to need to see the doctor professionally. You wouldn't want to bet on that, would you? No, get out of the way. Why, you big mouth! I sure can try. Just step over you and... Chad, look out! A little pugilistic exhibition from the window in my wagon. Oh, your wagon, huh? And you must be Dr. Pascoe. Grift her, Pascoe, huh? Hello, Cherokee, when did you get out of jail? It seems to me a more important question is, when are you going to jail, Pascoe? I don't know who you are, but you sure don't make much sense. I believe that we've met before. Really? Well, you look like the kind of a lung cat who wouldn't make a lasting impression on me anyhow. Probably at that distance I didn't make the impression I was aiming to make. Cherokee and I ran you out of Blue Bottle Canyon this morning. What did you do, mister? Drink a bottle of O'Bannon's alcoholic rattlesnake oil? I've never been in Blue Bottle Canyon, and what's more, I don't even know where it is. Well, we'll skip that for the moment and get down to what I've got to say to you right now. Yeah? Pascoe, you'd better pack up your wagon and get out of the exposition ground so Miss Schiller can use them before you get into real trouble. I always heard it was first come, first served. But if you think you can make me get out of here... Look out, he's got a gun, Henry's calling you sneak and sniff. And don't try to pick that gun up, Pascoe, because now I'm taking it down to the sheriff's as exhibit A in the mysterious shooting up at Blue Bottle Canyon this morning. You're a smart apple, ain't you? Go on, go down to the sheriff's because I'm going down there myself and charging you with trespassing and with assault with intent to kill. We'll return to the second act of stampede, our exciting Frontier Town adventure in just a few moments. And now Frontier Town. I knew that Grifter Pascoe's threat to have me up before the sheriff was just an idle one, or so I thought. But when I realized he had no intention of being bluffed in the moving off the exposition grounds, I did turn Gretchen Schiller's wagon around and head back to town for town and the sheriff's office. I was running a bluff, too, and both Cherokee and Gretchen were disturbed about it. But then, being a lawyer... Whoa, there you be crying. Whoa, hold it! This is the sheriff's office, Mr. Remington. It is, and I can see that the old gentleman is in. Chad, I wish you wouldn't go in there. You're just going to make a fool of yourself. No, I would not say make a fool of yourself, but I am afraid it is wasted time and will be embarrassing. Well, I don't know how it is with lawyers in Austria, Miss Schiller, but out here on the frontier, 20% of a lawyer's success is Blackstone and the other 80% is bluff. All right, come on. Here, Miss Schiller, I'll open the door. Young lady, new client of yours, Chad? Well, in a way, Sheriff, I guess you could say that she is. Oh, Miss Schiller, I'd like to introduce you to Tom Bemis, a sheriff. I am very pleased to make you our co-intention, Sheriff Bemis. The same here, Miss Schiller. What did you say her name was again, Chad? I am Gretchen Schiller, Sheriff. Oh, German, eh? No, Tom, Miss Schiller's in Austrian and she's over here in this country selling medicines. Medicine show gal, eh? Yes, sir, Ray, and one of the best. That's Miss Gretchen's wagon outside. Wagon? Here in the street? Oh, yes, Sheriff. Cherokee charges too much to put the wagon down at his livery stable. I see here, Chad, you're a lawyer. You ought to know that no public exhibitions of any kind can use the streets of those rears without a license. License? When did all of this happen? There's an ordinance. Been on the books of this town about seven years now. Well, I've never heard of it before. Can't be any public exhibitions without a license. Matter of fact, in town or out of the exposition grounds. Sweet suffering, sassafras, Chad, this is the answer to our problem. What problem, Cherokee? What don't you see? If you've got to have a license for a public exhibition, you've got Grifter Pascoe by the back of his neck. My gully, you're right. Sheriff, there's a man out at the exposition grounds right now without a license. Yes, I know all about it. And if you mean Dr. Pascoe, he has got a license. He has? When did he get it? Well, maybe 10, 15 minutes ago. Only so soon? Then you know what, Mr. Ellington? Dr. Pascoe must have ridden in on horseback when we were coming slow with the wagon. Well, I'm starting to see now why I never knew about that license ordinance before. This, uh, Pascoe, Sheriff, he told you about it, didn't he? Well, not exactly, but he had me look it up and it's true. Well, this isn't going to stop us from getting a license for Mr. Gretchen. I'm afraid it is, Cherokee. There's no way of licensing two shows for those rears at the same time. Oh, but if I cannot do my show here, sell some medicine and waste some money. Oh, this is strange. Well, Miss, I'm mighty sorry about it, but the law is the law and there just ain't much I can do. But we've got proof this Pascoe is a blankety-blank whiskwacker. Tried to raid Miss Shuller's wagon this morning as we're coming through Blue Bottle Canyon. You say you've got proof? What's the use of bluffing anymore? No. No, we haven't got proof. Not the kind of proof you'd want, Sheriff. All right, come on, Miss Shuller. Since we can't get a license right now, we'll put your wagon in Cherokee's livery stable and go up to my office and put on our thinking caps. Thinking caps? Now, that's just a matter of speaking, Miss Gretchen. It means to think hard. And in this case, if we think hard enough, a thinking cap might look like the hood they slip over a condemned man's head before he falls through the trap in the scaffold. Herr Remington. I mean, Mr. Remington. How about just making a chat, Gretchen? We're all in this together and we seem to be tired with the same stick. That's a trouble, Chad. There's no reason you should get... How do you say over here? Involved on account of me? If I'm involved at all, it's because of that poke I took at Pasco's bodyguard. No, Gretchen, we're in this now and as far as I'm concerned, I'm not getting out. You don't mind my intruding again, Chad. You seem to be overlooking one irrefutable fact. With Dr. Bell's piling up for Gretchen's assistant and the recent lack of business she's had, she has to raise some money and raise it quickly. There is no way for me to do that without selling some of my remedies. That is not here in Dos Rios. The next town is two days' ride away. Besides, what good would it do me without a medicine man to put on this show? I've just been thinking. There's nothing in that ordinance, the sheriff suddenly found, that could possibly prohibit our putting on a public exhibition on a private place. Private place? I mean, I own a ranch not too far outside of town. Why couldn't you set up your wagon and show out there and leave it up to Cherokee and me to see that people get out? Oh, this is a wonderful idea. Do you think really we can do it? Well, if we can't do it, it's only because Pasco caught up with this and after this morning's practice his aims better. Cherokee, let's get busy. While you get the wagon harnessed up again, I'm going to drop into every store in town and see that everyone who was able to walk is out at my ranch for the medicine show before sundown tonight. Grifter, I know what I'm talking about. It was in the grocery store when this lawyer came in. Yeah, well... Don't you see, the way he put it up to everybody, like it was a charity or something, they ain't going to come to near our show now and all traipse out to Remington's ranch and go to that shilligales pitch. That ain't a fair and cheap lawyer. Why did he have to butt in here? I don't know, but if that girl has a good day over here, she won't have to sell out. And then where will we be? Well, I'll tell you one thing, Jumbo. I ain't going to wait six months' worth. What do you mean, boys? I don't know what I mean exactly, but I'll figure out something. You sure had better. Go on, go saddle up a couple of horses for us, Jumbo. You and me. We're taking a little ride. A ride out toward Remington's ranch. Grifter, you've been thinking for an hour now. You got any bright ideas? Why don't you shut up? Okay, okay. Nobody's showing up at our show at the exposition grounds and everybody going out to Remington's ranch for the girl. Great Caesar's ghost. Look at that, will you? See what I'm pointing? There's a whole mob of people around a wagon. I bet your pennies to popcorn were on the road to Remington's ranch and that's the show going on down there. Good luck at them, will you? They must have a crowd of more than 200. Slow down, boys. Easy now. If we're ever going to buy Schiller's business and his formulas after the business he's doing down there, we'll be wearing a long gray beard. Ah, you think so, eh? Hold it. Whoa. What's gotten through you, Grifter? Nothing's gotten through me, Jumbo, except an idea. An idea how to bust up that sale, put an enter Gretchen Schiller's business and get even with that tinhorn lawyer. Oh, sure. You turned magician or something. Why don't you admit that you're... Do you see what's on the other side of this fence, Jumbo? A lot of beef cattle. Why? Let's suppose you and me crawled through the fence, got behind them cattle and threw a few shots at them. What do you think had happened then? Happened. Them cows had stampede. Stampede all over the place. No. Not all over the place, Jumbo, with us behind them. Them cows would make a beeline down the hill and head right for where they're holding the show. You get the idea now? I sure do, boys. A couple of hundred-headed cattle stampeding down on that show would sure break that up. It wouldn't surprise me, none, if they just happened to trample a busybody like Remington to death. Well, what are you waiting out here for? Come on, Jumbo. Down off that horse and over the fence, we're going to give Remington and Miss Schiller some real trouble. Citizens, we'll pass them on to you so that you can get your bottle of Dr. Alfred Schiller's internationally-renowned Nausman Pence here. Not at the regular price of $5, nor at $2.5, but at the special advertising price of $1 a bottle. You say that's not enough? You say you want more for your money? Very well. Then I'll tell you what I'm going to do. Notice what I hold here in my left hand? Two-ounce bottle of Dr. Schiller's instantaneous headache remedy. You see the price right on the label, $1.50. Now, just so none of you miss this extravagant value, this special introductory offer with every bottle of Dr. Schiller's internationally-renowned Nostrum, I'm going to give you absolutely free at no cost whatsoever this $1.50 size of Dr. Schiller's instantaneous headache remedy. You say you never have headaches? Well, let me read you a testimonial letter from a satisfied customer who bought Dr. Schiller's instantaneous headache remedy at the full price of $1.50. It says, Dear doctor, I can't tell you how pleased I am with the results I've gotten from your headache remedy. Ever since I've been married, I've suffered from a constant headache. So after three doses of your remedy taken by my mother-in-law, we burned her last week. Of course I'm only fooling. It's just a joke. Part of the entertainment that we... Billy Blue plays as Chad. Chad, come here quick. What is it, Cherokee? What's the matter? Look at all those cattle passing out the grass lawn. They're stampeding and heading right this way. Everybody quick. Scatter, get behind the wagon. Cherokee, come on. We got to hit our horses right into the middle of that stampede and see if we can turn them back before everyone down here is trampled in jelly. Look at them cattle go. Another 10 seconds and they'll be down on top of the wagon. Somebody's down there with the cattle, shooting at them, turning them around. Come on, let's get back over the fence. We've got to get out of here. We can't. The cattle are splitting up. They're all around us. Run, you fool. Run for that. Let's go and his friend will trample to death. I'm afraid Gretchen, that's what they call poetic justice. Hey, Verily. Or in another well-turned phrase, hoist by their own guitar. Talking about hoisting, Chad, don't you think that after all that excitement and exertion, I'm entitled to some sort of libation? Maybe you aren't that, Cherokee. Here, here's a nickel. Go get yourself a drink. A nickel? You say that's not enough? You say you want more of my money? Very well then. I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to give you absolutely free one bottle of Dr. Schiller's instantaneous headache remedy. Because knowing what you'll be doing when we get back to town, Cherokee, you'll be needing a headache remedy tomorrow morning. Come on, I'm on.