The Neihart herald. [volume] (Neihart, Mont.) 1890-1901, 1900-03-24

Died with His Boots On. "
One of the typical terrors of Texas
was Johnnie Potts. When his system
was not filled with the peculiar and
hair-raising beverage sold for whisky
In the border towns, Potts was rea-
sonably peaceful, though never socia-
Bile in his disposition, but when he
was loaded with what was commonly
termed old hell's delight he was one
OF the most dangerous of his class.
1t was in the early part of March,
1884, that Ben Franklin and others of
the cowboys of the ct 81 range went
to Caldwell to take in the town. All
the riders could not be spared at once,
n for that reason Johnnie Potts and
others had to stay at camp. Franklin,
who in cowboy circles was considered
a more than ordinary b~ig-hearted and
JoVlal spirit, showed his sympathy for
his unfortunate companions who did
not have the opportunity to participate
in the pastime of painting the town
red, by bringing back to camp a jug
OF the liquor dealt out at Caldwell
saloons. The night at the ranch was
one of revelry, gambling and drinking.
Potts drank heavily and as the hours
wore on he became more noisy and
quarrelsome. 1t was nearly morning
when he arose from the camp table,
and, staggering against the desk of the
~bookkeeper of the cattle
upset the ink and disarranged the pa
pers. The bookkeeper made some
protest, which, with Johnnie Potts, was
the signal for trouble. Pulling his six
shooter,h he proceeded to kick over such
furniture as there was about the camp
Il as a sort of preliminary to gen
eral hostilities. The other range riders
were not so full of red liquor that they
did not realize that it vas only a
question how many would be able to
get out of range when Johnnie began
to shoot.
Franklin, who was quicker to think
and act than his companions, with a
swift movement caught the terror"
from behind and throwing him to the
floor disarmed him. Johnnie raved like
a mailman and applied to Franklin all
the epithets known to the cowboy YER
nacular until he had worn himself out
and sank into a drunken slumber, The
next morning Ben Franklin concluded
that as a representative of the great
state of Texas he should demand an
apology from the terror" for his con-
duct of the previous night. With most
members of the cowboy class this re-
quest would have been complied with
as a matter of course, but Johnnie
Potts had the opinion that it was be-
meath the dignity of a real terror" to
apologize for anything and would not.
Ben Franklin, on the other hand, al
though an unusually g~ood-natured
member of the fraternity, felt that
when a Texan demanded an apology it
must come or blood. The range rid
ers stood close together, there was no
consultation Of seconds or measur-
ing off so many PAGES. There were
three sharp, loud reports, the flashes
and smoke of the "forty-fours'' and
the thing was over. Franklin was
quicker by the fraction of a second,
and Johnnie's pistol arm was shat
tered before he could pull the trigger.
The ball from his revolver went wild
and the second ball from Ben's gun
plowed through Johnnie's vitals. Then
a curious thing happened which
showed the Texas chivalry of Johnnie
Potts, the terror" Franklin, filled
with remorse, now hat the shooting
was over, wanted to hunt up a United
States deputy marshal and surrender
himself into the hands of the law, but
the terror" though writhing in his
death agony, would not hear of it.
What's the use O. doin' that, Benz"
gasped the dying terror" Yer got
me, but I'd sure a got you if I'd a
drawed a little quicker. 'Twon't do me
no sort o good fur you to go and
stand trial, nur you either. The ter
ror" was buried near the lonely camp
house, and the foreman of the ranch
took the trouble to see that the grave
was not entirely neglected. Ben Frank
lin went back to his home a changed
man. Instead of the rollicking rough
rider he became gloomy, haggard, and
prematurely old, with the haunted
look of a man who ever saw the pic
ture of a nights ~debauch, a fatal duel
and the lonesome, unmarked grave of
Johnnie Potts, the terror"