John Wesley Hardin, Gunfighter

This series has six easy 5 minute installments. This first installment: Can’t Quit His Wild Ways.

Introduction
Of the legendary gunfighters of the old west, Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson, Wild Bill Hickock, Billy the Kid, Jesse James, and the rest John Wesley Hardin is a recognizable member. While in prison, he wrote his autobiography from which this portion is extracted. We pick up his story just after he had begun his career of killing. He’s a teenager and already wanted by the law.

This selection is from The Life of John Wesley Hardin – Autobiography (published posthumously) published in 1925. For works benefiting from the latest research see the “More information” section at the bottom of these pages.

John Wesley Hardin (1853-1895) was a legendary gunfighter of the Old West.

Time: 1870-1871
Place: Texas

I had been receiving letters from my father and mother urging me to quit my wild habits and turn to better ways. They wrote that they were going to move down to the Page settlement so that they could be with me. On the 24th of December [of 1870 – Ed] my father came to see me and brought me good news from all the loved ones at home, and told me that they had all moved to Navarro county.

Next day was Christmas day and I borrowed my father’s horse, a pretty good runner, to go to the grocery and the races at the old Boles tracks. Collins and I had matched some races to be run on that day but of course we never told my father about this. There were a lot of Arkansas people there with horses; especially do I remember Hamp Davis and Jim Bradly. We came very near having a shooting match several times that day, as everybody in the ’60s carried pistols, but all left the track apparently satisfied. Jim Bradly, whom I have mentioned above, was introduced to me as a desperado and a killer. I had been reliably in- formed that he was there for my especial benefit, but in those days an unknown desperado had as much influence on me as a snaffle bit on a wild horse. After the races about fifteen or twenty of us went to a grocery nearby kept by Dire & Jenkins; there was a gin there and one or two stores.

We soon got into a poker game. I had won $50 or $75 on the races and had $825 besides, thus having about $400 in all. At this time I was but 16 years old. It was arranged that Collins, my partner, was not to play, but Jim Bradly (the Arkansas bully) had borrowed his six-shooter. The game was composed of Jim Bradly, Hamp Davis, Judge Moore and myself. I knew afterwards that these three stood in against me but did not know this at the time. One thing, however, I know, and that was how to protect myself pretty well from such fellows in a game of draw poker. I placed about $350 in gold in front of me and about $10 in silver. Bradly, on my left, placed in front of himself about $5 in silver and $20 in gold; Davis, on Bradly’s left, about $10 in silver and $40 in gold, and Moore about $30 in gold. The game proceeded quietly until about 12 o’clock at night, about which time I had won all the money. We were playing on a blanket in a small box house without a door but with a place open for a chimney in the north end. The house was about 13×14 feet and was situated about a quarter of a mile north from the grocery. The moon was shining brightly and the night was clear and cold. I had won all the money on the blanket, as I said before, and all the players owed me. I had pulled off my boots and thrown them in the comer to my left next to Bradly, not suspecting that robbery was the intention of the game. I was quietly fixing to quit the game unknown to the others and had put all the gold in my pocket, only having about $25 or $30 in front of me. Moore remarked that everybody owed Hardin. I said: “Yes,” but Jim Bradly said no, and we left it to Moore and Davis to decide. They said, “Yes, you owe Hardin $5.” About this time we both got good hands and I bet him $5 on three aces. He made me put up the money but “called” me without putting up a cent. I said to him: “Now you owe me $10, let us settle up or quit.”

He said: “You are a g — d — liar and a coward,” drew a big knife, and quick as a cat could wink made a grab for me, while Davis got my six-shooter in the corner. Collins then threw himself between Bradly and me and kept him from stabbing me to death. This gave me a chance to get up and when I did Bradly drew his six-shooter and threatened to kill me if I did not give up my money. “Give me $500 or I will kill you, g — d — you,” he said. Collins came to my rescue again and grabbed him, crying to me to jump out of the chimney opening or I would be killed. Out I went, bare-footed on the frosty ground and ran out to our horses.

Davis gave me a fearful cursing, calling me a murderer, a coward, a robber and saying he would get me before day. Collins came out to where I was standing behind a tree and said: “John, let us go home; we are in a hell of a scrape.”

I said: “Where is your pistol?”

He said: “Bradly borrowed it in the early part of the night.”

“No,” I said, “I am not going home and face my father in this condition; I want my boots, my money and my pistol. Don’t be a fool but take things coolly.”

Collins went back to get my boots, which Bradly finally gave him permission to do. Bradly continued to abuse me and went to the grocery with his crowd, who, by this time were all cursing me as a man who had been posing as a brave man, but who in fact was a coward and a damned rascal. As soon as I got my boots on, I told Collins I wanted to go and see Moore, who had my money and pistol. He said he would go with me to his boarding house, as he knew the proprietor.

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