John Wesley Harden Jailed

They told me I was wanted up there for killing Huffman in a barber shop. I appeared very much frightened and asked if there was any danger of a mob.

Continuing John Wesley Hardin, Gunfighter,
our selection from The Life of John Wesley Hardin – Autobiography (published posthumously) in 1925. The selection is presented in six easy 5 minute installments. 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

Soon after, I got a letter from my brother Joe, who was going to school at Round Rock to Professor Landrum. I also got one from the professor himself, both letters urging me to come up there and graduate with Joe. I went up there but only went to school for one day. The rewards that were offered for me made that country too dangerous a place for me to stop. I passed my diploma examination, however, satisfactorily, so Joe and I graduated together. My brother Joe then went to Mount Calm, helped my father to teach school and became a lawyer. He afterwards moved out to Commanche in 1872 and there lived until he met his death at the hands of a howling midnight mob of assassins in June, 1874.

I concluded to go to Shreveport, Louisiana, where I had some relatives, and on my way there I stopped at a town named Longview. There they arrested me for another party, on a charge of which I was innocent. The State police concluded to take me to Marshall but I got out a writ of habeas corpus. I was, however, remanded to jail at Waco for some crime which I never committed.

I was put in an old iron cell in the middle of the log jail and nobody was allowed to see me. There were three other prisoners in there, and together we planned our escape. We were to wait until the food was brought in for supper and then we were to make our break. It was very cold weather when they first put me in jail and I had money with me to buy whisky and tobacco for us all.

Thinking they would soon be released they had offered to sell me a pistol, a 45 Colt with four barrels loaded. I unfolded my plan to them by which we could all get out. I was to cover the jailor as he opened the door and kill him if he did not obey orders. We were then all to rush out and stand the crowd off until dark would help us to easily get away. They weakened, however, and so I bought the pistol for $10 in gold and a $25 overcoat. I had no idea when they were going to take me off, nor could I find out in any way. I tried to get them to go after my horse at Longview, but they would not do that.

One cold night they called for me and I knew what was up, and you bet I was ready for them. I found out that I was going because the negro cook only brought up three supper plates. When the prisoners complained that there were only three plates and four of us she said that “one of us was going to leave tonight.” I prepared myself for an emergency. I had a very heavy fur coat, a medium sack coat, two undershirts and two white shirts. I hid the pistol, tied with a good stout cord, under my left arm and over it my top shirt. I put on the rest of my clothes to see how it looked. It looked alright, so I took off my coat and vest and went to bed.

When they came to wake me up, I pretended to be awakened out of a sound sleep and to be very much surprised. They told me to get up and put on my clothes, that they were going to start for Waco with me. They told me I was wanted up there for killing Huffman in a barber shop. I appeared very much frightened and asked if there was any danger of a mob. Both Capt. Stokes and the jailer assured me that there was none. I then put on my vest and socks, putting a bottle of pickles in my overcoat pocket on the left side so as to make me look bulky. They searched me, but did not find any pistol. It was very cold and snow lay on the ground. They lead up a little black pony with a blanket thrown over him for me to ride 225 miles to Waco. I asked where my own horse and saddle was and they told me at Longview. I tried to buy a saddle from the jailor, but he would not sell me one. I at last got another blanket and mounted my pony, my guard tying me on hard and fast.

So, we started out of Marshall, they leading my horse. When daylight came, they untied my legs and allowed me to guide the black pony. If you had met our party that day you would have seen a small white man about 45 years old, who was a captain of police named Stokes, a middle weight dark looking man, one-fourth negro, one-fourth Mexican and one-half white. The former riding a large bay horse, the latter a fine sorrel mare and leading a small black pony with a boy 17 years old tied thereon and shivering with cold. They tried to frighten me every way they could. Stokes said they were going to shoot me if I tried to run off, and said that Jim Smolly would kill me any moment he told him to do so. I, of course, talked very humbly, was full of morality and religion and was strictly down on lawlessness of all kinds. I tried to convince them that I was not an outlaw and did not wish to escape anywhere. When we got to the Sabine river it was booming and we had to swim. They tied me on again and put a rope around my pony’s neck, Stokes leading, me next and Smolly bringing up the rear. The little black pony could swim like a duck and with the exception of getting thoroughly wet and cold, we got over alright.

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