John Wesley Harden Breaks Free

Today’s installment concludes John Wesley Hardin, Gunfighter,
our selection from The Life of John Wesley Hardin – Autobiography (published posthumously) in 1925.

If you have journeyed through all of the installments of this series, just one more to go and you will have completed a selection from the great works of six thousand words. Congratulations! For works benefiting from the latest research see the “More information” section at the bottom of these pages.

Previously in John Wesley Hardin, Gunfighter.

Time: 1870-1871
Place: Texas

We went on two miles out from the river and stopped for the night. Jim went to get some wood and fodder for our horses, while Capt. Stokes and myself started a fire and struck camp. We went to a house about 100 yards off and got an axe. We came back and he told me to cut some pine from an old pine tree. I assented, but made a complete failure with the axe as I was afraid my pistol might show. Jim soon got back, however, and we made a big fire, fed the horses, got supper, laid down and slept till morning, when we again started on our road to Waco.

When we reached the Trinity we found it out of its banks and dangerous to cross. We got the ferryman to ferry us over the main river but when we began to cross the bottoms and the sloughs they tied me on the black pony again and kept me tied until we reached dry land. We went forward again and traveled until night, when we stopped and camped. Capt. Stokes went to get some corn and fodder for our horses. While he was gone Jim Smolly cursed me, as was his habit, and threatened to shoot me, pointing his pistol at me to scare me. Then he sat down on a stump near our horses, which were hitched to the body of the tree. I pretended to be crying and got behind the little black pony. I put my head down on his back and meanwhile I untied the string that held my pistol. I kept one eye on him to see if he was watching me. When I got the pistol ready, I rushed around on Jim and said: “Throw up your hands.” He commenced to draw his pistol, when I fired and Jim Smolly fell dead, killed because he did not have sense enough to throw up his hands at the point of a pistol. I rode Jim Smolly’s sorrel mare and rode to Mount Calm that night to my father’s. Father gave me another horse and sent the sorrel mare back. This was in January, 1871.

I left my father’s soon, bound for Mexico. I was going by way of San Antonio, but was arrested between Belton and Waco by men calling themselves police. They said they were going to take me to Austin, but night coming on, we stopped about ten miles from Belton. They agreed that one Smith should stand first guard, a man named Jones, second, and one Davis the last watch. They had a good deal of whisky with them and they all got about half drunk. I had concluded to escape on the first opportunity, so when we laid down I noticed where they put their shooting irons. I did not intend to sleep, but watched for a chance to liberate myself from unlawful arrest.

Jones soon dropped off to sleep and Davis soon followed; Smith sat up to guard me, but he forgot he was on duty or else was unconscious of the danger that threatened him and his companions. He began to nod, but once in a while he would roll his eyes around on me. Pretty soon he put his hand up to his head and his elbow on his knee and began to snore. I picked up Davis’ shot gun and Jones’ six-shooter. I fired at Smith’s head and then turned the other barrel on Jones at once. As Davis began to arise and inquire what was the matter, I began to work on him with the six-shooter. He begged and hollered, but I kept on shooting until I was satisfied he was dead.

Thus, I got back my liberty and my pistols. I took an oath right there never to surrender at the muzzle of a gun. I never have done so, either, although I have been forced through main strength to give up several times since.

I went back by way of Marlin, in Falls county to tell them all good bye once more. I told my father what I had done and how those three men had arrested me while 1 was asleep. He said: “Son, never tell this to mortal man. I don’t believe you, but go to Mexico, and go at once. I will go part of the way with you.”

I slept in the cellar that night and stayed in an old oat-house the next day. I started the next night and we went through Waco. This was about the 12th of January, 1871. My father went on with me as far as Belton and there we parted. I went on through Georgetown, through Austin, and thence through Lockhart to Gonzales. I had some relatives in the latter town and I concluded to stop over and see them.

These were the Clements; Jim, Manning, Joe, Gip, Mary Jane and Minerva. The girls were both married, the eldest to Jim Denson, the youngest to Ferd Brown. They lived almost directly on my way from Gonzales to Hellena, an old and honored citizen showed me the way to my relatives’ home. My guide’s name was Jim Cone. I told my relatives I was in trouble and on my way to Mexico. They told me I could go to Kansas with cattle and make some money and at the same time be free from arrest. I therefore concluded to give up my Mexican trip and went to work helping them gather cattle. We gathered mostly for Jake Johnson and Columbus Carol, who were then putting up herds for Kansas.

I thus soon got acquainted with the country on the Sandies, on Elm and Rocky and on the Guadalupe.

Epilog
On August 27, 1995, there was a confrontation between two groups at the site of Hardin’s grave. One group, representing several of Hardin’s great-grandchildren, sought to relocate his body to Nixon, Texas, to be interred next to the grave of his first wife, Jane. The other group, consisting of locals from El Paso, sought to prevent the move. At the cemetery, the group representing Hardin’s descendants presented a disinterment permit for the body, while the El Pasoans presented a court order prohibiting its removal. Both sides accused the other parties of seeking the tourist revenue generated by the location of the body. A subsequent lawsuit ruled in favor of keeping the body in El Paso. – Wikipedia

This ends our series of passages on John Wesley Hardin from his book The Life of John Wesley Hardin – Autobiography (published posthumously) in 1925. This blog features short and lengthy pieces on all aspects of our shared past. Here are selections from the great historians who may be forgotten (and whose work have fallen into public domain) as well as links to the most up-to-date developments in the field of history and of course, original material from yours truly, Jack Le Moine. – A little bit of everything historical is here.

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