By Susan Couso
Hy Skadan was part owner of the stage line, and he drove the stage over to Reno and back. Stagecoach drivers, in those days, were selected for the job on three qualifications; horsemanship, fearlessness and marksmanship. Hy had all three in marked degree.
In addition, he had another accomplishment which was the envy of many men of the time. He could drink more whiskey and stay on his feet than any other man in the county.
On off days, Hy would hitch up a horse to an old rig, load a few provisions; a rifle, fishing tackle, and a gallon jug of whiskey, and set off on a fishing expedition up the Susan River. Sometimes he’d take a couple of small boys with him. He was jolly company for kids.
As he raised his jug of whiskey for a swig, he’d frown at the boys with his hazel eyes laughing. “Boys,” he’d say, “never drink whiskey. I’ve drunk barrels of it in my time and I know! Not that it’s done me know harm, y’understand, but if you don’t start, you’ll never miss it.”
Hy was ‘held up’ once, and he had a difficult time living it down. Not that he didn’t get his man, in a way, but the circumstances drove Hy to even greater endeavors at the bar, and it cost him plenty buying drinks for the other fellas.
It was an important run, too, carrying the payroll for the soldiers over at Fort Bidwell. The Army was nervous about the shipment, so the commander at the fort suggested that he could send a few armed guards to accompany the shipment. The soldiers arrived in time and boarded the stage, armed ‘to the teeth’ with their rifles across their knees.
Hy oiled up his guns too, but wary old Hy also took along a tiny Derringer which he could hide in his vest pocket.
Well, with soldiers aboard, maybe Hy got a little too relaxed. Anyway, just a couple of miles out of town, just as dusk fell, the stage was held up. Two highwaymen suddenly appeared from the bushes and leveled their pistols at the driver and the guardians of the payroll. Hy was furious, but they were ‘covered’.
“All right,” commanded one of the robbers, “throw down your guns and then the gold!” The order was complied with in haste. The other bandit helped pick up the gold, and they ordered Hy to drive on. Then they turned and ran as fast as they could with their heavy burden.
But Hy dug into his vest pocket and retrieved the Derringer. He drew a bead on one of the fleeing figures. “Ping!”
One of the bandits stumbled and fell. And then he began to cry! The other desperado knelt over him. Hy and the soldiers jumped down and, grabbing their guns, ran towards them.
The bold, bad bandits were 13 year-old boys, and they had held up the stage and its military escort with guns hewn from wood!
Hy’s shot had clipped one of the boys in the heel, and it hurt “like the dickens,” the kid said.
With help from the soldiers, Hy loaded the payroll onto the stage, and the boys were secured inside.
After arriving in town, they were turned over to their fathers, who dealt out more punishment than the legal system could ever accomplish.
