It is written that not until Hardin hit Waco, Texas did he begin to realize that he had a special talent, if being good at killing other people can be termed as such. Once again, he was on the firing end of a pistol and lay out another, and slower, gunman. But Hardin didn't make his escape good this time-at least not for a while.
After the Waco shoot-out the law caught him and put him in jail. However, in time, Hardin overpowered the deputy Jim Smolly, killed him, and escaped.
It surely seemed like John Wesley Hardin was well on his way-"down the road to hell." He now had eight dead men to his credit. He had grown some in stature by now. His shoulders had broadened and he was sporting some better clothes. And now he took it into his head to return home and visit his pa.
Pa Hardin, though a preacher, was no stranger to firearms. As a captain during the Civil War, the elder Hardin had often sported a Bible in one hand and a gun in the other, not unlike the Civil War hero and shameful Indian War terrorist John Chivington . John Wesley's father advised his outlaw son to head down into Old Mexico and to lay low there until the trouble blew over. It was good advice but before Hardin could get south of the border he was nabbed by state police somewhere between Belton and Waco. But not unlike one of his contemporaries, Bill Longley, Hardin had the luck of the draw.
One night as Hardin and the two lawmen that had him in their capture camped John Wesley's jailers dropped off to sleep. Hardin, not being one to miss an opportunity, grabbed a shotgun and, as it was told later, roused every chicken that was roosting within a mile when he let loose with that gun. And he added two more dead men, dead lawmen at that, to his list of killings.
John Wesley Hardin continued.
