 Family Theatre presents Elizabeth Scott, Regis To Me, and Jean Ruth. From Hollywood, the mutual network in cooperation with Family Theatre Incorporated brings you Regis To Me and Jean Ruth in Alexander Hayes' classic The Denver Express. To introduce the play, your hostess, Elizabeth Scott. Thank you, Jean. Back in the late 19th century, a quiet studious man named Augustus Allen Hayes wrote a number of serious historical works and novels. On the strength of them alone, his name would have been little known, except by a handful of students and research workers. But Mr. Hayes wrote a short story, and the impact of that story still reverberates in the pages of present-day literature, for he created a character who became the prototype of our modern-day heroes of action and melodramatic fiction. The character's name is Major Harry Sinclair, and he's portrayed for you tonight by Regis To Me, as we present Augustus Allen Hayes' classic railroad story, The Denver Express. Now let me set you straight on something. In spite of anything you may have heard or read, there's nothing romantic, exciting, or dangerous about the construction or operation of a transcontinental railroad. There are no heroes or heroines connected with it. Any ordinary man with a straightforward logical mind can handle any situation that might arise. Let me tell you the story about the first run ever made by the Denver Express, old number 17. That should prove it to you. You see, the story really began back in the 1870s while we were building the road. We had pushed the rails across the plains to the old frontier town of Barkers, and we established division headquarters there. I was working in the engineer's shack late one afternoon when one of the contractor's superintendents came in. How are things going? Not too good, Sam. We should be averaging a mile more of track every day. Yeah, if I know. That's the reason I came up. There's trouble brewing in Barkers, Major. Is there, Sam, what kind? Well, you know about these construction towns. The minute you bring in a big payroll, all the gamblers and shoppers from miles along come flooding in. We've warned the men about that, haven't we? Oh, sure, Major. There's some who just can't stay away from their Pharaoh and Kino games. What's more, it seems them games is crooked. It's got the boys who're riled up they ain't doing their work proper. Yeah, and some of them down to the Thai camp is talking about a vigilante committee. They can't do that, Sam. They know I can't stand violence of any kind. Who's the ringleader of these gambling crooks in town? A fellow by the name of Big Jeff Johnson. But don't you go tangling with that ordinary cuss by yourself, Major. He's got a hundred men armed down there in Barkers. I told you I can't stand violence, Sam. I only wanted to remember his name. As I said earlier, the business of building a railroad doesn't require any heroes. And I'm certainly not cast in any heroic mold. So I went into my office to figure out a logical level-headed solution. I'd been at it only a few minutes when... There's Major Sinclair. Talk to him, Cyrus. Hurry! I'm sorry to bust in on you like this, Major, but I need your help. You've got to help him, Major. They'll kill him if you don't... Now, just a minute. Let's not get emotional. Suppose you tell me what this is all about. My name's Cyrus Foster, Major, the young lady Sally Johnson. Any relation to Big Jeff Johnson? I'm his daughter, Major. All right, go on. Well, I've been dealing pharaoh for Johnson, but a square game. Every one at my table got an even break, and Johnson didn't like it. He liked my courting Sally even less. And when Cyrus refused to deal crooked and wouldn't stop seeing me, my father threatened to kill him. A threat doesn't make a fact, Mr. Foster. No, but they rigged a crooked deck on me today. And one of his gang tipped the players at my table. They've organized a lynch, Marba Johnson's men. They're looking for me right now. You've got to get me out of town aboard one of your trains, Major. Sounds like you're a few minutes late, Mr. Foster. That mob's trailed you here. He's right. I understand emotional people, Mr. Foster. If you'll take Miss Johnson into the next room, I'll see what I can do. But I can't let you face that marble loan, Major. I don't think you have much choice, Mr. Foster. Well, all right. Come on, Sally. Just a minute, gentlemen. Now, what can I do for you? We want that cheating pharaoh dealer, Major. Cyrus Foster. And if I won't let you have him... We're not asking permission, Major. We're taking him. Now, get out of the way. We're coming in. Just a minute, gentlemen. This is railroad property, and much as I dislike violence, I'll have to defend it. If you're crazy enough to do that, then we'll get Foster over your dead body. All right. Come ahead. But what happens when 500 men in the Thai camp learn about it? Well, what about it? What's that got to do with it? Maybe you haven't heard, but railroad men stick together. If you don't think so, just come ahead. And one hour after those men hear about it, there won't be a piece of any one of you big enough to bury. All right, Major. You win this round. Foster ain't gonna stay in there forever. When he pokes his nose outside, we'll get him without seven foot on railroad property. I watched them through the window and soon saw what they meant. Guns in hand, they deployed on the top of the small mesa, overlooking my quarters. They could draw a clean bead on anyone leaving the building. All right, Mr. Foster, Miss Johnson, you can come out now. Major, I don't know how we'll ever be able to thank you for this. Even if all your trouble was for nothing. If you mean those men waiting for you on the mesa, forget them. Forget them? But how can he? The minute he tries to leave the building, the... He's going to leave the building, Miss Johnson. What's more, there's a construction train pulling out for the east in a half hour. He'll be aboard that train, alive, unhurt. Major, if you could do that, we'd owe you a debt of gratitude for the rest of our lives. I think the road would prefer that you paid off in cash, Mr. Foster. In cash? Yes. We don't carry non-paying passengers. We'll have to charge you at the standard rate of three cents a mile. I got Sam the contractor superintendent on the buzzer system that he came over to the building. I told him the situation. It looks like force isn't a fix for sure, Major. Unless we call out the men from the Thai camp and the road gang, I don't let me see how you'll ever get to that train alive. It'll cost us another mile of track today if we call those men off the job. We can't afford it. But a man's life is at stake, Major. You can't let him die by himself. And we don't solve any problems, Miss Johnson, by getting emotional. Sam, take this note down to the conductor aboard that construction train. When he's followed the instructions, have him signal me with the whistle. I'll carry on from there. After Sam left, I studied the terrain out of the window. There were over 20 rifles on the edge of the mason covering every inch of the path to the railroad. The construction siding, 200 miles away, was the most important part of the construction. I could see the engine up there getting up steam. And a short burst of white smoke came from the whistle pipe. There's the signal, Mr. Foster. Let's get started. The trains on this road always run on time. We walked at a steady, unhurried pace. Mr. Foster's eyes glued on the path straight ahead. From the moment the door opened, those rifle barrels covered us. They followed us now, unwavering, vacant, stared. The train was on the road. They followed us now, unwavering, vacant, stared. Deadly. I really don't know how long we walked that path before the tension-filled silence was broken. I guess this is it, Major. That shot didn't come from the mason, Mr. Foster. I don't think any shots will come from there. What do you mean? Look over there at the train. Major, that train's crowded with men. And each one is armed with a rifle. Those are the crewmen, Mr. Foster. The shot you heard came from the train, a warning that at any sign of violence towards us, those trainmen will open fire. From their higher elevation, they can wipe out Johnson's men in a couple of volleys. I don't think there'll be any shots fired from the mason. So let's finish this little walk, shall we? When the train pulled out on schedule with Mr. Foster aboard, I wasn't there to see it. There was a good deal on my mind. Primarily, that mile of track we were losing each day because of Johnson's gamblers and their effect on my construction gangs. I thought I'd better talk to Mr. Johnson about it. I found Big Jeff Johnson in an office above one of his gambling dens talking with some of his men. They stopped talking when they saw me. You're Mr. Big Jeff Johnson, aren't you? Yeah, that's right, Major Sinclair. What can I do for you? Nothing for me. A good deal for yourself and your men. Like, uh, what would you say? Like getting out of Barker's and staying out. Getting out of... No, you're not really meaning that serious, are you, Major? Enough to give you a 24-hour deadline. 24 hours. Well, now that's real generous of you. It's real generous. I think so. I'll expect to find this place and your other's vacant when I check back tomorrow. Good night. Now, just a minute, Major. Just a minute. Suppose... I ain't saying this is a fact, mind you, but suppose when you come back tomorrow, you find things just like they are tonight. That might be unfortunate for you, Mr. Johnson. You see, I expect to have 500 Thai camp men and rail gang workers with me. Yeah. Only you can't bring all them boys back with you tomorrow. If you don't leave here alive tonight. They'll come on their own hook, Mr. Johnson, if they learn that you're responsible for my death. Sure, sure they will, if they learn. Only they can't blame me if you pass out by falling off a trestle or stumbling under the wheels of one of your own trains. Now, can they, Major? Now, what happened next doesn't mean I changed my mind about violence. It was merely the only logical, reasoning solution of a crisis that suddenly faced me, so I carried it out. I cracked Mr. Johnson's face hard with my open hand. As the blow swung him around, I grabbed his revolver, pressed it against his back, and shoved him around until he stood between me and the rest of his men. Mr. Johnson, I'll repeat what I said earlier. You and your men have exactly 24 hours in which to leave Barker's. And speaking of leaving, perhaps you'd better escort me peacefully from here right now. Well, Mr. Johnson, shall we go? Now, the events I've just described were typical of those that might arise during the construction of any railroad. And, as you just heard, they didn't involve any so-called bravery, emotional entanglements, or storybook heroics. The application of simple, cool-headed reason was all that was necessary to handle Mr. Foster's problem, get Big Jeff Johnson and his men out of town, and let the construction of the road go ahead according to schedule. Well, when the road was finished, I went back to New York to marry the beautiful girl to whom I'd been engaged for some time. Then we came back west on our honeymoon in order to be aboard the Denver Express when she made her first run. She pulled out on schedule, maintained her speed as she roared westward, and it looked like nothing would interfere with my determination to have her reach Denver exactly on time. Then, near Pawnee Junction, some events out of the past began to catch up with me. Well, Major Sinclair, I should have known you'd be traveling the Express on her first run. Why, hello, Mr. Foster. Honey, I'd like you to meet Mr. Cyrus Foster. Mr. Foster, Mrs. Sinclair, my wife. Well, thank you, Mr. Foster. It's nice of you to say so. What have you been doing since we last met, Mr. Foster? Still dealing a square game? Well, yes, Major, but in a different profession. I'm working for an express company now. Going to Denver to take over a branch office. Well, that sounds a good deal better. My congratulations, too, Mr. Foster. Thanks, Mrs. Sinclair. It was your husband who made it possible. Well, my boss is waiting up ahead. I'll have to leave now. Goodbye, Mr. Sinclair, Major. Thanks for everything. Goodbye, Mr. Foster. Harry, isn't that the young man who was involved in that escapade at Barker's with Big Jeff Johnson? Yes, that's right, Jane. I wonder what ever became of his romance with that young girl. Sally Johnson? Yes, yes, that's it. I wonder if they're still in love, and if they'll get married now that he has this wonderful new job. Now, Jane, don't you get the fever, too, just because you're traveling on a railroad? There's nothing any more romantic about this business than the passenger cleaning out a pigsty. Isn't there, Harry? Well, would you like to know a little secret? I think you're the most incurable romantic I've ever known. Now, just about the time that Jane was making that little foolish statement, Sam, the contractor's superintendent was passing the time of day with Jim Watkins, our station agent and telegrapher in the depot at Barker's. Looks like you're pretty busy today, Jim. Yeah, that's right for facts, Sam, with number 17 starting her first schedule run for Major Sinclair. Major? Is he right number 17? No, you don't rightly think he'd missed that first run, do you? I guess I'll leave you. It'll be good seeing him again. Must be pretty nearly a month now, since... I beg your pardon. I was out in the waiting room, and did you say Major Sinclair was aboard the Denver Express? That's right, Miss. Then you've got to wire that train. You've got to stop it from making the run between Pawnee Junction and Barker's tonight. That train? Hold on, Miss. You don't know what you're saying. Just a minute, Jim. You're Sally Johnson, aren't you, Miss? Yes, yes, that's right. And you've got to listen to me. You've got to stop that train. Oh, no. I suppose you've got a pretty good reason for asking that. What is it, Miss Johnson? I can't tell you what it is. All right. It's my father. He's Jeff Johnson? Yes. He and his men are going to wreck that train. Wreck it? Yes. At the sixth mile post between here and Pawnee Junction. They're going to throw the train off the track and rob the passengers in the express car. That's why you've got to stop that train, Mr. Watkins. You've got to. When Number 17 pulled into Pawnee Junction that night, the local station agent was waiting for me with a wire from Jim Watkins at Barker's. He was a very worried man. Well, that's the situation, Major Sinclair. Watkins couldn't give me any further information, but it looks like we'll have to hold Number 17 here until daylight tomorrow. Trains on this line run on schedule, Mr. Number 17 will leave here on time. But, Major, why? The Johnson gang? Getting emotional won't help, Mr. We have 11 minutes before Number 17 pulls out. That's plenty of time to make a few arrangements. Short distance out of Pawnee Junction, we stopped the deciding for a few minutes. I hated to lose the time from our schedule, but it was a logically necessary stop. For we picked up an attachment of 20 soldiers in Fort Pawnee for whom I'd wired ahead. I stationed them in the baggage car, and then their Lieutenant and I went forward into the engine cab to check with the engineer. How are the air brakes, Jack? First rate, Major. Can you stop her in about a third of her length? Easy enough. If you don't mind being shaken up a bit. Good. Now, Lieutenant, the traffic at the six-mile post is pretty level. The headlight will pick up the spot easily enough, and we'll have plenty of time to stop. All right, Major. Second-mile post, just past, Major. Thanks, Jack. Now, Lieutenant, when we get busy with Johnson and his men, don't let any of them get back to the main body of the train. This line has a reputation for maintaining the well-being and comfort of its passengers. I don't want them annoyed. And just one more thing. The less shooting, the better. I don't like violence, and I prefer... Major, look ahead there, down the line. There's a red lantern burning alongside the trunks. Yeah. Yes, you're right, Jack. Slap on the brakes. The brakes? But we haven't even reached the third-mile post yet. Slap on the brakes, Jack. All right, Major. Be mature, Major. I hope your nerves haven't got the better of you. I don't happen to be an emotional man, Lieutenant Halsey. That lantern was put there for some reason. But what reason could there possibly be? To your answer, Lieutenant, Johnson has changed his plan. If someone hadn't warned us with that lantern, his train would be erect right now. They seem to be getting quite near. Suppose we alert you or men and start handling the situation. Lieutenant Halsey and his men knew their business. The gang was rounded up in short order and secured as prisoners in the baggage car. I checked on my wife and found her unhurt, but alarmed and upset over my safety. After I got her calmed down, I went looking for Lieutenant Halsey. I found him and several of his men at the mouth of a narrow aroy a short distance away from the train. What's the trouble, Lieutenant? It's Big Jeff Johnson. He broke through our circle and he's hiding out back there. It's a dead end, so we can't get out, but we can't get to him. Looks like we're held up until dawn. Well, that won't do, Lieutenant. We're behind schedule now. I'd better go in after him. That's impossible, Major. He's hidden back there in the rocks with a clean bead on the bed of the arroyo. You can't make it. The night's dark. The shadows are thick. I believe there's a chance. Besides, I've got something I have to talk over with him. I'm going in. Are you new to surrender, Mr. Johnson? Can you again, Mr. Johnson? Better give yourself up. That lead meal didn't feel so well in your stomach, did it? Well, that's fine with me. And if any of you monkey-suited tin soldiers out there, try to come in after me. You'll get the same. They won't have to. Got that gun, Mr. Johnson. I've got one pointing at your head. I'll be hanged if I drop it. Drop it, Mr. Johnson. And now, Mr. Johnson, you and I have a few things to settle. I'll start by throwing away my gun. And I'll carry on like this. Come on, Mr. Johnson. It's just between the two of us now. We might as well keep it up until everything's settled. A short time later, Lieutenant Halsey and his men carried Mr. Johnson back to the train and we pulled out again for barkers. On the way, Jane filled in with some minor details for me. Remember the red lantern that warned you in time, Harry? Well, Sally Johnson held it. She learned of her father's change in plans and risked her life to stop the train. Right now, she and Cyrus Foster in the next car making plans together for their future. What do you think about the romance of railroading now, Harry? The telegraph agent began dancing around the platform impatiently trying to say something to me. But I was so busy with the troops and disposing the prisoners, I didn't have time to talk to them until we were ready to pull out. Now, just a doggone minute, Major Sinclair. You just can't get away without helping me out here. Sorry, Jim. What's on your mind? It's Denver. That's why. They've been burning up the wires for two hours trying to find out what happened in number 17. I've got to wire them, Major. What did happen out there on the line? What's the story? What did I tell them? This is a railroad, not a class and short story writing, Jim. Just wire them this. Number 17 departed Barker's 55 minutes late. Oh, no, no, wait, Major. Is that all? No, Jim. You can add this. Number 17 will arrive in Denver on time. With the first run of the Denver Express, there were no heroes or heroines connected with it. All it took was a straightforward, logical mind without any emotion to handle any situation that might have come up. What's that? Oh, my little encounter with Mr. Johnson back in the Arroyo. Well, maybe the soldiers would have gotten him eventually, and I'll admit I didn't have to throw my gun away and handle him with my fists, but that was just a result of logical, cool-headed reasoning. After all, his actions were responsible for my wife getting alarmed and upset that night. And no man on Earth's going to do that without answering to Major Harry Sinclair. A family theater listener once asked us how we've managed to present such a variety of plays week after week and always wind up with the same theme, family prayer. You present a mystery set or a story of suspense or a comedy or a historical drama, and each time you conclude, the family that prays together stays together. It never fails to make sense, but, well, how do you do it? Well, here's the secret. If it can be called a secret, there isn't a thing in life that doesn't somehow tie in with the family that isn't somehow of interest to it because the family is the base of all society and civilization, whether it's baseball or babies, railroads or religion. It's connected with the family, and our family theater audiences like to hear about it. In the same way, there isn't a thing in life that isn't connected with God who created and sustains the world and all that's in it. So it's never an effort to introduce the thought of prayer, family prayer. After all, do we possess anything that doesn't come from the hand of God? And isn't it only sensible that we should pray together as a family for the graces we need each day? That's why we leave you each week with a thought we'd like you to make your own. The family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. Family Theater has brought to you Regis Toomey and Jean Roof and Alexander Hayes the Denver Express with Elizabeth Scott as your hostess. Others in our cast for Barton Yarborough, Jim Nusser, Ken Christie, Virginia Eiler, Herbert Butterfield, Victor Perron and Charles Lund. This adaptation of Hayes' familiar classic was written by Sidney Marshall with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman and was directed for Family Theater by Jaime Del Valle. This series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who felt the need for this type of program by the mutual network which has responded to this need and by the hundreds of stars who have so unselfishly given of their time and talents to appear on our stage. This is Gene Baker inviting you to join us next week at this same time when your Family Theater will present Terry Moore in an incident in Charlemagne's Invasion of Spain, the Song of Roland. Join us, won't you? He's at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation and is broadcast to our troops overseas and forces radio service. Casting System.