 This is Jimmy Stewart with a welcome to the Hollywood Star Playhouse, brought to you by the Bakers of America. Hollywood Star Playhouse, 30 minutes of mystery, thrills, drama by Hollywood's finest writers featuring Hollywood's top stars, brought to you by the Bakers of America through the cooperation of your baker. Hello there, this is Wendell Niles. In a moment, we'll bring you Act One of today's transcribe story, the six-shooter starring Mr. James Stewart. The hands depend on your baker to help you serve better meals through bakery foods. Whether he's the baker in your bake shop, the baker who supplies your grocer, or the baker who calls at your door, your baker is the man who provides so many of the good foods that mean mealtime satisfaction for you and your family. Because almost every day of the year, very likely every meal of the day, you enjoy something that a baker makes. So for variety, convenience, economy, for nutritious good eating, count on your baker to help you serve better meals through bakery foods. And now, Act One of the six-shooter starring Mr. James Stewart. The rain had stopped, but the wind still carried slivers of moisture that cut into the boy's face as he rode along the edge of the creek. When he saw the yellow light from the back of the office, he pulled up and slid out of the saddle. Then he tied a wet bandana under his eyes and walked to the door. All right, Heist, weigh up both of you and stay away from that shotgun. You, get over to the safe. Better hurry it up, mister. All right, now open it. I said to open it. All right, toss me that sack. Okay, you, you... I hadn't figured on going through Clay City. It was an hour out of my way, and I was already a day late to the Jefferson Ranch where I'd signed on for the roundup. But when Scar started limping from a loose shoe, didn't have no choice. We had to head for the nearest blacksmith's shop, so we turned north. The horse loathes in a shoe. Ah, let's have a look. He needs a new one. Okay, boy. Can you take care of it? Oh, what happened to Rad? Follow your stone in this shop. What did the man at Chasing Silver? I bought him out. Oh, yeah, you don't look very much like a blacksmith. Oh, I'm stronger than I look. Heavier, too. What do you think I weigh, mister? Oh, I don't know. Go on, go on, take a guess. 120, 30? Well, no more than that. You a betting man, mister? Well, sometime. Well, I say I weigh over 130. If I don't, you get the new shoe for nothing. If I do, you pay me double. What do you say? You got a set of scales? Don't need no scales. What do you say, mister? Is it a bet? Well, don't seem to be no way of probing it. All you got to do is lift me up. You look like a man who can judge weight. What do you say? Okay, all right. It's a bet. All right, mister. Just heist me. If you don't think I weigh more than 130, the shoe is free. All right. I never tried to judge a man's weight before, but all right. Well? Well, I'll be dull. Compact solid, mister. Real solid. You're a packed titer in a stair. You must weigh 150 pounds. You see? What did I tell you? 158. The horseshoe is going to cause you money, mister, but you ain't the only one ever since I bought the shop. There ain't been a stranger come through Clay City, but what he paid double for his first horseshoe. He ain't sore, mister. No. No, that was a fair bet. Sure it was. I told you I was heavy, and I looked. That's what folks call me, heavy Norden. My real name's George, but everybody calls me heavy. What's your name, mister? Ponsett. Britt Ponsett. A fellow they call the sick shooter? Well, doggone it. I've heard about you, mister. I've sure heard about you. Oh, would I recognize you if I'd have noticed your gun? Sure is fancy, ain't it? Do you mind showing it to me? No, no. Here, catch. Real fancy. Just like Sheriff Schofield said. He says he's seen you fire six shots with it while Whitey Jackson was getting off his first bullet at time down in Eagle. Well, that Sheriff kind of likes to build up a story. Oh, he swears it's a truth. Here's your gun, mister Ponsett. Thanks. Sure, sure. You was mighty quick in getting into Clay City. How'd you hear about it so fast? I had to hear about what? Well, hold up at the Fargo Station last night. Ain't that why you come? Nope. No. I was headed past town. I turned off because Scar got that loose shoe. Well, now, ain't that a coincidence? A fellow holds up the Fargo office, kills one man, maybe two, gets away with $5,000, and 12 hours later, you ride into town. Well, they got any idea who did it? Nope, not a single solitary one from what I hear. Like I say, the deputy agent was dead when they found him. Other fellow, Fred Wilmer, a friend of his, got shot up pretty bad. Now, no talking yet. Doc says maybe he never will. Does Sheriff Schofield take out a posse? Nope, ain't nobody to go. Most of the men signed up for the Jefferson Roundup. Left town day before yesterday. Here the Jefferson Ranch is paying good money this year. Yeah, yeah. You seen the sheriff this morning? No, not lately. Might be over to his office. I think I'll walk down that way while you're fixing up Scar. Sure, sure, Mr. Ponsett, that's a darn good idea. Sheriff Schofield will be real glad to see you. A couple of doors this side of the sheriff's office, the Wells Fargo sign nailed up next to a window. The place wasn't locked, so I went inside. One of the chairs was upset, and there were some damp stains on the floor. The cast iron safe against the wall was standing wide open, so I kicked it shut. Went out in the back stoop. There was some more blood on the steps, and then just red mud. Right at the edge, I saw the hoof prints. They trailed off along the side of the creek. Whoever made them headed west. The horse had been wearing one shoe different from the other three. A sharp rock must have cut into it sometime or another. Not enough to split it, you understand? Just enough so that the print left a jagged line like fancy handwriting. Find something, Britt? Oh, hello, Sheriff. I was heading your way. I just saw heavy. He told me you was in town. Did you find something? I don't know. I don't know. You see these hoof prints? Yeah. Don't mean nothing. The trail gives out a mile or so down a creek at Fort. Has Clay City had any other trouble lately? No, not a bit. I guess any town's got to expect to hold up once in a while. I heard it was a little more than that. Yeah, that's right. Fred Wilmer able to talk yet? Doc said he'd let me know first thing he'd come around. Took him out to his ranch. You been out there to see him since last night? There wasn't no reason. Well, it might be a good idea to be there, you know, just in case. Thought maybe I ought to stick in town. Oh, I don't think anything more is going to happen here, Ed. I'll get Scarlet. I'll meet you out at Fred's place. I can handle this alone, Britt. Oh, sure, sure. I'll just often keep you company, Ed. I'll meet you there. He's all fixed up, Mr. Ponsett. Tie him up around the side so he'd be in the shade. Thanks, Heavy. Did you find Sheriff Schofield? I told him he was in town. Yeah. You figure out anything? Not so far. Oh, you will. Sheriff's a good man. While you and him together, you'll get whoever done it. No, maybe so. Maybe so. You're the only blacksmith around here, aren't you, Heavy? Only one for 40 miles. You ever see a horse with a shoe that's got one jagged edge, left hind leg? A lot of shoes got jagged edges, Mr. Ponsett. Yeah, well, I'll show you what I mean. I ain't much of an artist, and I hear it kind of looks a little like this. Seems to me I've seen a shoe like that just the other day. Oh, sure, I remember. Told him I ought to get a new one for it. Ben Schofield, that's who it was, just the other day. Ben? The Sheriff's kid. You know him, don't you, Mr. Ponsett? Oh, sure. Sure. I ain't seen Ben in a couple of years. Oh, you wouldn't recognize him if you did. He just sort of growed up overnight. Yeah. Yeah? I guess he has. Well returned for act two of the six-shooter starring Jimmy Stewart in just a moment. Today being Easter, it's interesting to note that of the many ancient observances of Easter, some customs have continued almost unchanged. One of these, of course, is the Easter egg. Which symbolizes reviving life for the rebirth of mankind. Then there is the cross-marked bread, eaten by the Saxons in the Middle Ages to honor their goddess's spring, Aostra. From this came our hot cross buns of today. But history says that the custom of serving small loaves of bread with a mark of the cross as part of religious festivities dates back centuries ago when it was first practiced by the Egyptians. That's not so strange though when you realize leavened or raised bread, the forerunner of our present-day bread, was invented over 2,000 years ago by the Egyptians. Imagine of all the many, many different kinds of foods that have fed people down through the ages. Bread has been and still is our most important food. Here are the reasons. Bread more completely satisfies hunger and is a greater source of strength than any other known kind of food. And I'll act two of the six shooters starring Jimmy Stewart. Sheriff Schofield was sitting on Fred Wilmer's porch swing when I got there. The dog was inside with Fred so I squatted down on the stoop and waited. About half an hour the dog came out and told us we could go inside and see Fred. Fred was lying on a cot breathing hard and white cloth across his chest was stained pink and his voice sounded like it was full of air. He was just sitting in the express office talking. Sam and me didn't hear the back door open. Must have left it unlocked. Turned around and there he was holding his gun on. She got a look at him, Fred. I could get you over his face, Sheriff. I couldn't see nothing. Just a gun. He told Sam to open the safe or there was nothing else he could do. Sure, sure. He took the money, walked over to the door. Yeah? Looked at us for a minute and then shot. Didn't have no reason. He hit Sam in the face and he hit me in the chest. He didn't have no reason. Take it easy, Fred. Take it easy now. Just like he enjoyed shooting at us. That's how it was like he enjoyed it. Maybe he was scared. Oh, he wasn't scared, Sheriff. He didn't have no reason. Thought he killed us both. Then he started down the steps. I got my hand on the shotgun and let him have it. You hit him? I don't know. Maybe he gave a yell and rode off. What kind of a fellow was he? He was young, old. I couldn't see his face. Young, I'd say, though. How young? 17, 18, full grown. Tall? Short? Medium. About the size of your kid, Ed. Not that size. Got enough of you, Ed? Yeah, that's enough. You think you'll get him bread? Sure, Fred. Sure. Sure. Come on, Ed. Didn't have no reason to shoot, no reason to talk. We're wasting our time. Brady's got a day's head start. He'd be 40 miles from here. Oh, not if he's shot up. Now you go on if you want to. You're the sheriff. You've got to make the arrest. You ain't never been so particular before. Well, maybe not, but this time I'm particular. You coming? We don't even know where to start. I thought along the creek. That's good to play as any other. It's a waste of time, Fred. We got time to waste. Come on, let's go. We picked up the trail along the creek headed west. It wasn't hard to fall on. Every once in a while we'd see a few drops of blood spattered against the shrub brush. About 10 minutes later we came to a fork where Ed had said the trail gave out. Scar stuck his nose down into the water and I looked around. The trail didn't give out. It turned south. I nodded in that direction. Ed didn't say a thing. Just followed. At about five o'clock we stopped to eat. Ed built a fire and I opened up a couple cans of beans I had in my row. Are you ain't hungry, Ed? It's early for supper. Yeah. Ed, I talked to Heavy before I went out to Fred's place. I asked him who had a horse that would leave a mark like the one we'd been following. And he said Ben did. Your son, Ben, I thought you ought to know that. A lot of horseshoes leave the same kind of mark. Fred said it was a young fella. It wasn't Ben. Where is he at? Jefferson's ranch, working on a roundup. He left Clay City the day before yesterday. Couldn't be Ben. There's a lot of wild youngsters in these parts but Ben's a good boy. Couldn't be him. You sure? Had Mark don't mean nothing. Plenty of horseshoes leave the same kind of mark. You know that, Fred. You had enough to eat? Yeah. Come on, let's go. The wound came out thin, yellow. Not real bright, but enough so you could follow the trail. About three miles there was no blood. He must have wrapped something around the wound. Wrapped it real tight. And then we found the bandage. A piece of shirt tail soft through. The next mile had been bleeding a lot worse than ever. He was hit pretty bad. Looks like it. He couldn't have gone much further because of... Oh, let's go. Ed. Yeah. Pull up. Over there on the gully, that cabin. Yeah. Who's is it? Used to belong to Jake Levant. Died a couple of years ago. Ain't nobody living there now. There's somebody living there. Huh? Out in the back of the pony. Better go ahead on foot. Yeah? We're gonna take him alive, ain't we? If we can. We're gonna take him alive, Britt. It's been. I don't know, Britt. Not for sure. It could be, Ben. It could be. Where's he been the last couple of days? I don't know that neither. I had an argument with him two nights ago. He needed some money. He'd been playing poker and lost a lot. About five thousand's a lot. I wouldn't give him that. He got mad. Said he'd get it. Said he'd get it himself. And I hit him hard across the face. I hit him twice. He started to hit me back. Then he walked out of the house. I ain't seen him since. I wish he had hit me back. Now, we gotta get across that clarion head. Over to that clump of trees. He may see us. Yeah, we'll have to take that chance. You ready? Yeah. We'll stand these trees for a couple of minutes. Okay. Then we'll rush him. Ain't gonna be easy to take him head. None of these spotted us. You ain't gonna kill him, Britt. I ain't gonna let him kill me. It ain't his fault, Britt. It's mine. You know that ain't so. No, it's the truth. It's my fault. You didn't raise him to be a killer, Ed. Maybe I did, Britt. I was a sheriff, seeing that everybody kept close to the line, seeing that everybody lived honest. Especially Ben. I broke him, Britt. I broke him like you break a wild horse and try to take all the fight out of him fast. You know what happens when you do that to a horse? He gets tamed, but the fight's still there and someday he turns wild again. I'll rush him alone, Ed. No. Stay here, Britt. Sam Norton's dead. Maybe Fred Miller, too. Killing Ben won't bring him back. He's my son, Britt. My only son. You don't have no kids. You don't know. I'm sorry, Ed. No, we're going back to town. Not without him. We're going back. Now you can outdraw me, Britt, but I'll still have time to get a shot off. I'll try to get him alive, Ed. I'll try. No, don't turn your back on me, Britt. Don't be fooled. Don't make me do it, Britt. I wasn't being brave. I knew he wouldn't shoot. A man like Ed Scofield just don't change overnight. You can figure a man like Ed. That's what I thought anyway. But I hadn't figured what would happen next. I haven't figured on him running out into the clearing and standing there on the moon like gray against the black sky. Ben, it's me, Ben. You're dead. Can you hear me, Ben? Britt Ponce is coming after you. Throw out your gun, Ben. Britt Ponce is coming. Now listen to me, Ben. It's your Ben. I saw him go down real slow. Like his legs had buckled under him. I couldn't tell how bad he'd been hit. He rolled down a gully out of range and I crawled forward. I pushed myself past a couple of rots and ed toward the back door. The kid was in the kitchen. I couldn't see him, but I could hear him moving around going from window to window, looking out, waiting for me. I slipped past another rock. I could run for the door or wait. The kid made up a mind for me. I slipped down fast and the bullets and the rocks. The kid had good hearing. He knew I was right there. I took out my gun and waited. I knew he'd get nervous first. Young fellas always do. I wasn't so young. I could wait. It was more than five minutes before the door started to open. His pony knew I was coming too. He started for the horse. I aimed at his leg. For a second he stopped moving and just hung in midair like a hawk. Then he sprawled forward out of sight behind a log. I raised up a little and hunched myself along the side of the cabin. Everything was quiet now. Even his pony. The moon went behind a thick cloud and I came around the corner of the cabin. Suddenly the moon came out again. Just in time for me to see his 45. Just in time to see him coming up up at the top of the log. His revolver slipped out of his fingers and I saw him trying to reach for it again. He couldn't make it. I stood up and walked over to the log. The kid was lying face down. Gasping for breath, a little short gasp. He pulled himself under the flight of his hands and passed out. I turned him over with my foot and I looked at his face. Where'd he get you? In the shoulder. I'm going to be all right. Is he? Did you have to? He ain't dead. Thanks. I guess he didn't even make callin' to him. He didn't know who I was. Ed. What? Ed, it ain't Ben. What? It ain't Ben, Ed. You sure, Brett? Yeah, yeah, this kid's got red hair. There ain't no reason to lie to me, Brett. I ain't shot up bad. I ain't lying. I ain't lying. I knew it wasn't Ben while I was going up after him. I knew it. What are you talkin' about? Just come to me. A man don't change overnight. Neither does a boy. But it ain't Ben. Lots of tough kids in these parts. You said so yourself. What do you suppose Ben is? What you said. Jefferson Ranch workin' in the roundup. They pay good. A boy don't change overnight, Ed. You able to ride back to town? Yeah, sure. I may have to take it a little slow. I'll get the kid. Brett. Yeah? You know somethin', Brett. I couldn't believe it was Ben, neither. No, when he shot me. I just couldn't believe it. You know that, Brett? I know it, Ed. I know it. Jimmy, that's one of the most heartwarming at the same time, suspenseful yarns we've heard in a long, long time. Thanks a lot. Well, Wendell, when it comes to that thanks department, let's just be mighty sure we include Emily Bear, her background, Burt Holland, and Bill Conrad, who played the sheriff. Bye. Be sure to come back, Jimmy. In just a moment, ladies and gentlemen, we'll introduce Miss Diana Lin, the star of next week's story on Hollywood Star Playhouse. Say, I wonder if your family weekends are anything like the ones at our house. You see, ours are very informal, and lots of times our meals are very irregular. I make a point of seeing that Mrs. Niles doesn't do a single extra bit of meal fixing she can help. So if you ever drop in on the Niles some weekend, you better bring along a husky appetite for sandwiches. We love them. Any kind. But a great favorite with the boys and myself is a ham egg burger. Ever tried one? Well, listen, it's so simple I make them myself. I take hamburger buns, slice them in half, and toast them. Then I spread two tablespoons of canned deviled ham, a scrambled egg, and a couple of tablespoons of grated American cheese on each bun. I toast them in the broiler with a low heat until the cheese begins to melt. Yes, that's a ham egg burger. Honestly, it's just about a meal in itself. Oh, maybe we top it off with a piece of cold apple pie right out of the refrigerator and a cup of coffee or two. That's all. So tonight, why don't you try a Niles special, a mouth-watering ham egg burger. Now, here is the star of next week's thrilling story on Hollywood Star Playhouse. Miss Diana Lin. I guess we all dream about the perfect job we'll land someday. You know, good pay, easy hours, a perfect atmosphere to work in, an ideal boss. Well, I landed my dream job. Only it turned out to be not a dream, but a nightmare of terror. James Stewart can currently be seen in the Universal International Technicolor production, Bend of the River. Tonight's transcribed story was written for Mr. Stewart by Frank Burt. The entire production is on the direction of Jack Johnstone. All characters and incidents were fictitious, and any similarity to actual characters or incidents is purely coincidental. This is Wendell Niles inviting you to be with us again next Sunday for the Bakers of America program, Hollywood Star Playhouse. Enjoy another half hour of fine entertainment brought to you direct from Hollywood by your baker. The baker in your bake shop, the baker who supplies your grocer, and the baker who calls at your door. All helping you serve better meals through Bakery Foods. The National Broadcasting Company.