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Six-Gun Justice - First Episode

Six-Gun Justice

First Episode

Apr 22 1935



CAST:

ANNOUNCER

JIM

DESOLATION JONES

FIRST VOICE (SPIDER)

SECOND VOICE

THIRD VOICE

OWNSLEY

SAM

MAUREEN

WAITER (1 line)

GAGE (2 lines)

FIRST COWBOY (2 lines)

SECOND COWBOY (2 lines)

CHAVEZ, Mexican




BIZ: Hoofs and shot.


ANNOUNCER: "Six-Gun Justice."


BIZ: MUSICAL THEME.


ANNOUNCER: The Columbia Network presents a new radio feature: SIX-GUN JUSTICE, a story of the high cattle country, full of the drama, humor, and action of the real cow range, fresh, vivid, thrilling! We find ourselves at the opening of the first episode in the little cow-country railroad town of Pascoe, on a branch of the Colorado and Western, the exact location being the loading corrals near the C & W depot. Six stock cars have been spotted there: five of them are loaded and the last of the white-faced steers are being harried up the chute by half a dozen perspiring cowboys and roustabouts. The tally is being kept by two men at the chute mouth: and as they count, a tall, easy-moving youth is climbing out of a battered old automobile to which is attached a trailer carrying a bay pinto horse.


BIZ: Background with bawling steers ... voices ... "Hi hi" ... "Yip," etc. 


JIM: There you are, ridin' horse! Hundred and sixty miles in a little over four hours. (Laughs) I told you this'd be better'n walkin'. (Horse nickers ... paws) No, you don't! You and me have got down to our last four dollars, and we don't eat OR drink till we find where the next is comin' from.... Wait a minute! (Laughs) Hark from the tombs a doleful sound! Here's something we got to look into, before it gets any worse!


BIZ: Speech interrupted ... off ... by dolorous sounds from concertina ... "Cowboy's Lament" preferred. 


JIM: (fading) Sounds a lot like a human bein' in mortal agony--but mebbe it's some new kind of pleasure! Hi, there! Howdy, stranger! 


JONES: (music stops) Eh? (Pause) Oh! Howdy yerself! 


JIM: Ain't anything a man can do for you, by any chance, is there? 


JONES: No. Jest heave a tear or two and pass by on the other side! 


JIM: Is it as bad as all that? Mind if I climb up on this corral fence alongside--or'd you rather be left to your grief? 


JONES: Don't matter, either way. (Sighs) I ain't scassly wuth botherin' about! 


JIM: (laughs) You know, stranger, I never happened to cut the trail of more'n about half a dozen men that was! (Puff ... grunt) There! My name's Jim Dance. I kin ride a hoss when he's gentled, and I can rope a calf if he'll stand still long enough. I'm new here, and I'm lookin' for a job. Now, you shoot! 


JONES: Pleased to meet you, Dance. Call you Jim, if you don't mind! 


JIM: It's what I'm mostly called. You ain't by any chance low in your mind, are you? 


JONES: Can't you see for yourself? 


JIM: Well, I've run across cheerfuller people. 


JONES: Never seen anything yet to be cheerful about. (Concertina) 


JIM: (laughs) Say, if I HAD five dollars, would you take it to fold up that instrument of torture of yours and stick it in your vest? 


JONES: Don't like it, eh?--All right. My name's Jones! 


JIM: Jones. Oh, yes. Any relation to Pat, up in the Gallatin Valley, or the school teacher at Sun River? Or maybe you're in the family that runs that livery stable in Cochise County, down south of here! 


JONES: Ain't got any kin. Never did have! 


JIM: Oh, that's tough--for them! What's your other name, Jonesy? 


JONES: Horace. 


JIM: Not HORACE? 


JONES: Horace. But I don't use it much. 


JIM: No. I wouldn't. What are you called mostly--outside of Clarence? 


JONES: Horace. 


JIM: I mean Horace.


JONES: Well, mostly the boys call me Desolation! 


JIM: (laughs) Desolation-- Hm-m-m. Don't see why should-- But it's all right over my way. You don't know where I could get a bunkroom, a string to ride, and, say, forty a month and salt pork three times a day, do you, Desolation?


JONES: Not any place I'd recommend. (Concertina) 


JIM: Excuse me, but haven't you forgot something?


JONES: Me? No!--Oh. You DON'T favor the concertina, do you?


JIM: Well, I'd rather have it than boils! But I COULD manage to get along without too much of it-- About that job, now.


JONES: Which job?


JIM: That one you wouldn't recommend.


JONES: See them fellers loading steers?


JIM: I see them. Nice beef they handle.


JONES: More'n you can say for them! (Concertina) Oh, that's right! You don't like music.


JIM: I love it. About that job, now.


JONES: You'd be a dang fool to take it--even if you could get it!


JIM: I've been a dang fool so often, Desolation, it comes kind of second nature. Who gives out this job you're talking about?


JONES: See the two fellows tallying?


JIM: One of them looks like a cattle buyer to me--the one with the white hat--and from this distance I'd say he could stand watching!


JONES: I like you better all the time--what did you say the name was?


JIM: Dance. James Worthington Fremont Dance. Jim for short!


JONES: You've called the turn on the cattle buyer, Jim!


JIM: And the other one-- Hm-m-m! Straw boss for the outfit that's selling the steers--that right?


JONES: Foreman. Name of Ownsley. (Pause) You got any gold teeth?


JIM: One. Got it in 'twenty-eight in Cheyenne when I'd won the bull-dogging contest and was flush!


JONES: If you go over there to ask Ownsley for a job, leave that thar good tooth with me.


JIM: (laughs) Oh. So that's Ownsley, is it?


JONES: That's him, boot-heels to top-knot!


JIM: What's his outfit?


JONES: Sash Brand Ranch. Old-timer name of Tom Cathcart owns it.


JIM: I've heard of him. Fergus knew him, on the Diamond-T, up in Wyoming.


JONES: Gone to seed, Tom Cathcart has. And this Ownsley's waitin' for threshin' time.


JIM: Hm-m-m. (Slow) You mean, he'd like to own the Sash Brand. That it?


JONES: Will, too. (Lower) You want to join a outfit in this Basin--honest?


JIM: (laughs) Desolation, I've got that tin-tobacco-can out there in the road, the trailer and the hoss that's in it, and four dollars, not countin' a Canadian dime a waitress give me for luck up in Pocatello once. And this far, all the twenty-six or odd years I've been in this vale of tears, I've craved three meals a day and a straw tick at night. Now do you believe me, Desolation?


JONES: W-well, mebbe. Sounds crazy to me, but go ahead.


JIM: Go where?


JONES: Go and make medicine with this fellow Ownsley. While you're doing it, cast an eye on the brands that you can see from where you stand.


JIM: The brands?


JONES: Sash Brands. You know--a square with cross lines--like a window sash.


JIM: I've heard of that brand. But what am I to look for?


JONES: (low) I'm telling you nothing. Ownsley fired me today--said I couldn't rope. Well, I can't, but that ain't why he fired me. It was for knowing what I ain't going to tell you.


JIM: Oh! That's it, is it?


JONES: That's it--down to date. Mebbe I'm wrong, but I got a perverse pre-jew-dice against a tattle-tale.


JIM: I'll look at the brands--from where I stand. And do me one favor while I'm gone.


JONES: As I said before, for some reason I can't name, I like you. What's your favor?


JIM: Promise me not to get crying down that concertina of yours. I think she's already warped. (Laugh ... fading) I'll be seeing you! Keep the tail of one eye on my twelve cylinder wheelbarrow while I'm gone, will you?


BIZ: Fade in loading chute sounds ... bowling ... feet on chute boards ... creak of fence ... voices ...


FIRST: Git along, cows! Git yourselves loaded!


SECOND: Hi, hi! You cross-grained son of a ring-tailed milk cow!


THIRD: That's right--git sidewise in the chute!


OWNSLEY: Tally fifty-two.


SAMUELSON: Fifty-two.


OWNSLEY: Hundred and fifty-three!


SAM: And fifty-three!


OWNSLEY: Fifty-four--and--


SAM: Fifty-four.


OWNSLEY: Tally a hundred and fifty-five.


SAM: Fifty-five.


OWNSLEY: (up) Twist his tail! What's the matter with you, Spider? 


FIRST: (off) Blamed fool won't head in!


OWNSLEY: (savagely) You HEAD HIM IN! What do you think I brought you over here for!


VOICES: Hi! Hi! Yippeee! Git along! Kick his hocks, Chavez! 


BIZ: Steer bellows ... great clatter of hoofs and sounds of horns on car sides ... heavy rolling door rolled to ... men panting.


SECOND: Fasten that hasp, 'fore the blamed fool backs through into the pens again!


THIRD: Reach me that pin!


FIRST: All loaded, Mr. Ownsley!


OWNSLEY: (calls) All right. You boys meet me at the Silver Dollar!


VOICES: You bet! Whoopee! (Laughter and leg slapping)


SECOND: I'm so dry you could hear a drink sizzle down!


THIRD: Let's roll!


FIRST: Here we come, hosses!


OWNSLEY: (shouts) Get this, you sheep-herders!


FIRST: (off) Shut up, you! Ownsley's yelling!


OWNSLEY: The man that gets so pie-eyed he can't ride home tonight, stays in Pascoe. Do you hear that?


SECOND: (off ... low) Oh, hell!


FIRST: (dejected) All right, Boss. Come on, boys! 


BIZ: Voices lowered ... horses snort ... hooves off at run ... as they get farther away they begin to yell again ... gun shots ... laughter ... and off.


OWNSLEY: (curtly) Now, Samuelson, I want a check for Cathcart.


SAM: Why, sure! Of course. A hundred and fifty-five head at--


OWNSLEY: A hundred and thirty-five head.


SAM: And thirty? But the tally--


OWNSLEY: Are you buying steers or teaching arithmetic, Samuelson?


SAM: Umm-m! I see. Twenty-five head to your account?


OWNSLEY: (lower) You don't need to tell the whole of Mesquite County. And I want mine in CASH!


SAM: Cash? But thunderation, Mr. Ownsley, I don't carry seven hundred dollars in cash--not in this--


OWNSLEY: That's your worry! You can get it.


SAM: Why--why--sure. Yes, I'll get it. I'll bring it to you at the Silver Dollar--


OWNSLEY: (low) Wait a shake! (Up) You looking for something, cowboy?


JIM: (as innocent as a babe) Just castin' an envious and admirin' eye on your shipment, Mister. Hope you don't--


OWNSLEY: They're sold--and you don't look to me like a man that would know a good steer when you saw one anyway. Come on away from those cars.


JIM: (easy ... guileless) But where I come from there ain't any law against a man--


OWNSLEY: There's one here--and this is it! (Shot ... pause.) And the next one won't come so close--it'll come closer!


JIM: (not quite so guileless) I'm a stranger in these parts, but mostly where I've been, nobody shoots at an unarmed man.


OWNSLEY: If you weren't a stranger in these parts, you'd know that Jeff Ownsley doesn't tell a cowpuncher the same thing twice! Come up here and speak your piece--or put down your ears and fade!


JIM: Sort of looks to me like you had the best of the argument, THIS ONCE, Mister. My name's Jim Dance. I'll be meeting you again, likely.


OWNSLEY: The more I see of you, MISTER Dance, the less I like you. Do you want some good advice?


JIM: I'd like it left so I could take it or leave it!


OWNSLEY: Ask around--and you'll decide to take it. Keep moving!


JIM: That's your advice?


OWNSLEY: That's my advice. It's free. But next time, it'll cost you money.


JIM: For what?


OWNSLEY: A coffin!


JIM: (laughs) Oh, is that all? I'm awful young to die, Ownsley.


OWNSLEY: And you're a little too nosey to live--around these parts!


JIM: I guess I'm slow in the head, but I take it you don't want to sign me on to punch cows for your outfit!


OWNSLEY: I don't see how you guessed it!


JIM: I'd like to ask you one question, Ownsley.


OWNSLEY: I'm wasting a lot of time on you. But make it one!


JIM: I gather your brand is the Sash. What other brand around this country could be made INTO a sash with a running iron and a little lye and tar?


OWNSLEY: (suddenly furious ... squalling) You half-baked puppy, GET MOVING BEFORE I COUNT THREE! ONE!


SAM: (scared) Jeff! Ownsley! This kid's got no gun--


OWNSLEY: You keep out of this, Samuelson! TWO!


JIM: (quiet ... cool) Better make that count thirty-three, Ownsley!


OWNSLEY: You walk or I'll drill you!


JIM: (sharply) Oh, no, you won't!


BIZ: Confusion ... boot on steel ... OWNSLEY cries out ... gun shot.


SAM: Well, by thunderation--! Kicked him--!


JIM: (quietly) Sorry to have to do that, Ownsley. It's a French Canuck trick I learned in Montana. And there's your gun, with one shot shook out of it when it hit a rock ... I'll be drifting now--but NOT OUT OF THIS BASIN! So long! (Fades)


SAM: (low) Never saw anything like THAT! Kicked your gun right up into your face!


OWNSLEY: (Muffled voice) My jaw feels like it's broke ... I should've bored him the first time! But I can wait! Dang you, Samuelson, don't stand there gapping. Go get my cash and bring it to the Silver Dollar. Lead my horse over here, and--(groans)--Dance was his name, eh? He'll dance before I get through with him! (Fades out with groan)


BIZ: Concertina fades in ... lugubrious voice of JONES'S singing to it.


JIM: (in laughing) Still crowding woe out of that sofa cushion, ain't you?


JONES: Durn it, I never AM appreciated! You got back, I see!


JIM: Oh, sure. I can get back when I can't get any place else!


JONES: (dry chuckle) Notice you had a sort of run-in with Ownsley.


JIM: Nothing to mention.


JONES: Do you happen to carry any insurance, Jim?


JIM: I carry it--but I didn't have it with me. It's over under my seat cushion--or was when I left Salt Lake.


JONES: Um-m-m! (Chuckle) What kind of a policy is it?


JIM: It's a thirty-eight in a forty-five frame, with a cut-down barrel, and a hammer I had made to order.


JONES: I guess there ain't any use arguing with you. Did you get your job?


JIM: Yep.


JONES: (as sitting up) YES? You don't mean--


JIM: I got a job sticking around this Basin here till I find out more about what it was you knew that you wouldn't tell me.


JONES: Hm-m-m! So you noticed those brands, did you?


JIM: From where I stood--yes--alongside the cars. (Pause ... slow) A rustler's running iron always makes too narrow a burn. You'd think they'd learn.


JONES: Ownsley's so high-handed here he don't think he HAS to learn!


JIM: Look here, Desolation, what other brands are there in this neck of the woods?


JONES: You're so durned smart I'll be telling you everything in a minute.


JIM: I'm asking you a straight question. If you don't want to answer I can look 'em up in the Recorder's office in the county seat--if this place HAS a county seat!


JONES: I give up.... There's the Teapot. Belongs to Mrs. Pete.


JIM: Mrs. Pete?


JONES: Name of Mulgardt. Relict of the late Pete.


JIM: (laugh) Good cowman, is she?


JONES: Any way you take Mrs. Pete, she's as good a man as ever lived!


JIM: Even a better brand-blotter than this man Ownsley couldn't turn a teapot into a Sash Brand. So Mrs. Pete is out. Who else?


JONES: Well, there's a little outfit up in the Nusquallies with a Hip-roof, and there's the Dutchers, but they brand with a Circle D.


JIM: Come on.


JONES: Durn blast it, you gettin' me mighty near to cornered, son!


JIM: I'm aiming to, Desolation.


JONES: All right. There's Holt Irving's ranch--the H.I.


JIM: H-I-- Um-m-m! KENO!


JONES: You're so suspicious by nature you'd buy a bank before you'd put money into it.


JIM: I'm so suspicious by nature, Desolation, that I'm going to get me a job tomorrow.


JONES: A job? (Pause) Oh! ... I see.


JIM: Maybe you've forgot that this man Ownsley pulled a gun on me twice when the only deadly weapon I had on me was a nickel matchbox with the hinge broke.


JONES: I don't blame you, son! Not a mite. You're goin' to try the H-I outfit. But there's Jernigan to figure in.


JIM: I thought you said his name was Irving.


JONES: He's the owner. Jernigan is his foreman. He does the hiring on the H-I.


JIM: Some foreman! Lets a blunder-headed calf-thief like Ownsley drive twenty-five head of good baldfaces out from under the eaves, blotch their brands with two lines made with a running iron--and turn them into a Sash--and then sell them at a siding corral in broad daylight.


JONES: It's a wicked world, son, and full of depravity and original sin.


JIM: I'll let all that stand except the ORIGINAL part.


JONES: (dry chuckle) You like your words to be laid awful close to the line, don't you, Dance?


JIM: I like words to mean what they say. This man Jernigan is a hard foreman to hook up with, then?


JONES: I only know what I hear--and I've heard plenty last two years in this basin.


JIM: How far is it to the H-I ranch?


JONES: 'Bout thirty-six miles, by the road. 


JIM: I'll probably use the road-- Hm-m-m. (Sharp) See here, Desolation, how come this Mr. Irving to use a brand that could be turned into something else so easy?


JONES: I only know what I've heard, as I say, and what I've heard is that Irving and Tom Cathcart--Sash brand, you understand--used to be friends. No reason their brands should get mixed up. But they had a row about some thing--years back. Turned into a sort of feud. Died down the last few years--but some little misunderstanding might set it blazin' again.


JIM: (yawns) I'm much obliged for everything, Desolation--I'm going to waste some of my substance on ham and eggs. Will you side me?


JONES: Ham and eggs? Where have I heard those two words before?


JIM: It's three, including the ham. Come on.


JONES: Wait a shake. Listen!


BIZ: Distant train whistle.


JIM: (laughs) Train coming? You weren't thinking of staying to see it pull in, were you?


JONES: Pull in, your foot! It goes through here loose at both ends! It's the Overland.


JIM: Well, you can stay here and hold on to your hat if you want to. I'm going to eat.


JONES: Wait, can't you? Let a feller see a train go by, can't you? Give a unhappy critter a moment's pleasure, can't you?


JIM: Well, rate that Limited is coming, it won't take long. But I better stand down by my trailer. That pinto of mine isn't used to these modern inventions like smooth-shank spurs and steam engines. (Fading) And after you've got our eye full of grit--SAY!


BIZ: Train nearer ... locomotive whistles for brakes ... two longs.


JIM: She isn't GOING BY!


JONES: You don't know her. She'll go through here so fast--I jacks, mebbe you're right!


JIM: Sure. She whistled for brakes. Look at the sparks fly.


JONES: Why, there ain't anybody got off the Overland at Pascoe since Matt Bridger was running for Congress! I'm dinged--this IS what you'd call a epic-making e-vent!


JIM: (laughs) Funny what a little thing it takes to break up the monotony, ain't it, Desolation?


BIZ: Train roaring drowns conversation ... train stops ... bell ... etc.


JONES: Say, jumping Jee-rusalem. Do--do you see what I see, Jim Dance?


JIM: Now, Desolation, you're older than I am--and from sounds you make, I think you've got a leaky heart-valve--Mr. Jones, the sun has come up!


JONES: (whistles) Ain't she a PIPPIN?


JIM: Calm down, now! Know her, Desolation?


JONES: (indignantly) If I did do you think I'd be sitting here on this corral rail with you? Look a-here, is my cowlick standing up?


JIM: Well, there she is!--Left flat and forty miles from water.


BIZ: Train ... bell ... whistle ... pulls out ... passing with roar.


JONES: Hm-m-m! Not a soul in sight, either way!


JIM: You watch my automobile, Jones. I won't be long. (Fading)


JONES: (up) Hi! Come back here! Mean to call yourself a friend. (Down ... chuckle) Funny--how life is! Sit here on a fence three hundred days in the year and never git anything but a splinter in your pants--and today along comes this kid cowhand and kicks Jeff Ownsley's shooting materials up into his teeth--and then the Overland stops and spreads Ro-mance all over the durned countryside. I wonder will I get those ham and eggs there was so much talk about a few minutes back--


BIZ: Fades ... concertina ... mournful ... fades.


JIM: Excuse me, lady, can you think of anything I could do to make myself look like a Reception Committee?


MAUREEN: (very cool) I beg your pardon!


JIM: Oh, don't shoot--don't shoot! I'm harmless.


MAUREEN: No doubt. You MAY tell me where I can get a taxi.


JIM: A--come again, please!


MAUREEN: A taxicab! Or a rent car.


JIM: Oh, one of those things? Nearest one, I reckon, is likely Salt Lake, or maybe Prescott.


MAUREEN: Are you the humorist of this--er--city?


JIM: I don't even belong to it. I'm a stranger here myself. But I wouldn't let it be said that Jim Dance left anybody afoot and with his rope trailing. Maybe I could roust up your friends--or whoever should be here to meet you.


MAUREEN: I--I'm afraid-- (Laughs) Well, Mr.--


JIM: Not Mister. Jim Dance.


MAUREEN: (a little easier) I'm afraid, Jim Dance, that I've been silly. I hate to admit it.


JIM: A fellow usually does. What brand of foolishness is your favorite?


MAUREEN: I--ought to have known better. I came to visit my uncle-and thought I'd surprise him.


JIM: (chuckles) Well, I'd say you'd surprise him, all right. If he's old enough he'll probably spank you and put you to bed.


MAUREEN: He's old enough. And I think I'll suggest it to him, if he doesn't think of it himself. His name is Tom Cathcart. Do you happen to know where--


JIM: Cathcart?


MAUREEN: Why, yes! This is Pascoe, isn't it?


JIM: This is Pascoe. You're on the right trail, all right. But it's quite a piece out to his place.


MAUREEN: Oh! (Pause) What do you mean by "quite a piece"?


JIM: I'd judge from what I've heard that it's too far to walk.


MAUREEN: With these bags two city blocks would be too far. (Discouraged) Oh, what a little fool I was! I--I really thought there'd be--a car--or a bus line--something-- (She's going to break down if she doesn't watch her step)


JIM: Oh, Lord, lady, there's plenty of cars. Mine, for instance.


MAUREEN: Thank you. But no! I'm sure I can find--


JIM: I don't mean we're starting now. We've got to eat first.


MAUREEN: But if you're such a stranger here, could you find the Cathcart ranch?


JIM: Pshaw, lady, out this way places are all pretty much alike. Somebody stands on a corner and jerks his thumb over his shoulder, and you put in two gallons of gas and follow the main traveled road till you get to where you're going.


MAUREEN: If we ate first, as you call it, where do we do it, Mr.--that is, Jim Dance?


JIM: Thanks, lady. Well, from the looks of the flies settling on the screen, I'd say we WOULDN'T eat at the Star Restaurant and Café. But down the street, now-- Hello, Desolation! Move on in and settle an argument, will you?


JONES: Howdy, young lady! If this young whippersnapper is bothering you any--


MAUREEN: (laughs) Thanks. He isn't--YET.


JIM: There, now! You can go back to your corral rail, Desolation, after you tell us--


MAUREEN: I wonder if you'll introduce me, Jim Dance?


JIM: Oh, that's right! Miss, this is Clarence Jones--


JONES: Horace!


JIM: Horace! This is Horace Jones, known hereabouts, as I get it, as Desolation.


MAUREEN: I'm Maureen Cathcart.


JONES: (squawks) You're WHAT?


JIM: (aside) You blamed old fool! (Up) It's all right, lady. Clarence has just swallowed his chew!


JONES: HORACE, drat ye! And I don't use--


MAUREEN: (laughs) We're all being ridiculous. And I've just found out that I'm starved!


JONES: You're lucky. I've been starved for six months, and knew it all the time. You see, when I was riding for--ahem!--well, anyway, if you want the best eating place in Pascoe, try Johnny's! Reasonable, too!


MAUREEN: (rather fussed) I'm afraid I'm throwing everybody out. And I don't like being a burden to--


JONES: Say, lady, when you hear anybody yelling about you being a burden, drop me a postal. I'm sixty or fifty or eighty-two or something, but--


JIM: You're a hundred and eight--but not as melancholy as you were! Johnny's Place, did you say? If you don't mind, we'll walk around by my car. I want to unload my horse and drink him--and I want to get--(laugh)--that life insurance we were talking about, Desolation. (Fade ... girl laugh ... voices ... maybe concertina)


BIZ: Transition ... perhaps fade into tinny piano playing in Johnny's Place ... voices ... dishes, etc.


FIRST COWBOY: You say this stranger KICKED Ownsley's gun out of his hand?


SAM: (low) You don't need to yell about it. But that's what I said--


SECOND COWBOY: What I can't see is--where was Ownsley all that time? He can throw lead pretty fast, when he gets drawed--


OWNSLEY: (curt) What you getting confidential about, Samuelson? It's your turn to buy!


SAM: That's right. (Up) Waiter! Name your potions, gents!


WAITER: (coming in) Yes, sir--just a minute. Mr. Ownsley, Gage is looking for you--Gage, the station agent. Hi, Gage!


OWNSLEY: Thought you were 'tending to the bill-of-lading, Samuelson. What's up, Gage?


GAGE: (in ... low) I thought you might like to know, Mr. Ownsley--Tom Cathcart's niece came in on the Overland just now.


OWNSLEY: (low ... curt) What in blazes you been drinking? Cathcart's NIECE!


GAGE: Desolation Jones picked her up--he and a stranger--looks like a cowman. They were talking by my wicket and I heard her say--


OWNSLEY: If you've got any more bad news, mail it to the ranch! Thanks, just the same, Gage. That's all. (Low) Cathcart's niece--


SAM: (low) What's the calamity, Ownsley?


OWNSLEY: (low) Shut up a minute, can't you? (Aside) I might have known she'd show up, sooner or later. (Up) Spider! Chavez!


BOTH: That's me, boss ... Si, señor!


OWNSLEY: (low) That kicking kid from Montana has picked up a girl at the depot--girl I'd just as soon took the next Overland back where she came from ... I want you two to go out and find this Dance. When you find him--start something! And make it good enough--


SAM: (low) Ownsley. Look--coming in! 


OWNSLEY: (steady ... cold) All right. That's them, boys! Chavez, you take a little pasear along this wall to flank him. Spider, go up to the bar and buy yourself a beer. Watch him--not me! I'll make this play--now he's here. Savvy!


TOGETHER: You bet! Muy bien, Hownsley! 


BIZ: Chairs scrape ... voices in place ... music up a little ... laughter ... dishes.


JIM: (coming in) Well, I'll be shot in the foot! It's a regular café!


MAUREEN: (a little nervous) I'm glad I've plenty of escorts. There aren't many women here!


JONES: Scarcity of them all through these parts, worse luck-- (Low) Dance!


JIM: (up) Now what is it, Desolation? (Low) You mean Ownsley and his men?


JONES: Yes. That's Chavez, coming along by the wall--and two or three more of them--


JIM: I've got them. (Up) How about this seat, Miss Cathcart?


MAUREEN: Couldn't we sit farther out--


JIM: (easy) Why, I'll tell you how that is, Maureen. There's a sort of DRAFT out there--and in this altitude you have to watch out for drafts-- There! Now, what's it going to be--up to four dollars' worth?


MAUREEN: Four dollars! Oh, but really, Jim Dance, this is my--


JIM: We'll maybe shake for it. You can have ham and eggs, or eggs and ham, or you can have eggs, or maybe a small piece of ham. Just name it.


MAUREEN: Thanks. Isn't there a menu card or--


JONES: Johnny had a bill-of-fare when he opened--but that was four--five years ago. The boys are still talking about it.


MAUREEN: (as looking around) It's funny, but everyone here seems to be--well, waiting for something! What makes me feel that--


JIM: (laugh) They ARE waiting for something--what they ordered probably half an hour ago. (Low) Desolation!


JONES: (low) I can see it!


JIM: When it comes, crowd the girl back in the corner. Get her low if you have to knock her down--I'll take the play! 


JONES: You'll have to. I never did pack a gun!


MAUREEN: (laughs) Are you two whispering about me? I know I'm silly, but I've seen movies that were like this, some--


OWNSLEY: (very loud and clear in a sudden pause) Yes, the way I got it, this girl came out here to Pascoe from the East some place, and got herself associated with a tramp. So when the shooting started the tramp used her for a shield and she got herself shot--dead!


SAM: (shaky) You don't say!


OWNSLEY: Yes. Yes, they shipped her home. And I always say--


JIM: (loud and distinct ... slow) You got the story wrong, one way, Ownsley! The way it was, it was THE TRAMP that got himself drilled--and it was for making a talk he couldn't back up!


OWNSLEY: (furious) Dance! I gave you your chance--once! You don't get two--not in this man's town!


JIM: (sharp) I don't want two, Ownsley. (Up) Keep your hands where they are, Ownsley!


MAUREEN: (screams) Look out, Jim Dance! That man--


JIM: You're slow, cowboy! (Shot)


JONES: Watch the Mexican!


JIM: I'm watching him. Cuidado, paisano!


BIZ: Table tipped over ... shouts ... scream of girl ... two shots ... one shot ... pause.


FIRST COWBOY: He got Spider Gates!


SECOND COWBOY: Somebody lift that Mexican up. His face is smashed in!


MAUREEN: Jim Dance! Are you hurt? 


JIM: (laughs ... down) A mosquito must've bit me! (Up) I'll take your gun, Ownsley. And see you later. Now, Miss Cathcart, is it going to be ham and eggs, or do you want the eggs and have the ham on the side?


BIZ: THEME. 


ANNOUNCER: You have been listening to the first episode of a new Columbia feature--SIX-GUN JUSTICE.

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