Chapter 4 – Bart's Story: The Jones Boys

Who can you trust when you can't trust your own brother? That was the question that I needed an answer to, and I needed it in a hurry. While I was trying to figure out what our four friends were up to, Bret was scurrying over to God's greatest creation like the skunk he can be on occasion and filling her head full of . . . . . hell, I don't know what he was filling her head full of. I sat there and watched him sweet-talk her for a few minutes, then I went back to paying attention to the boys up front and started a game of Maverick Solitaire. Apparently our poker game was finished; just as well since Bret would have won anyway.

Bret and the girl laughed and chatted; she looked serious there for a minute. God only knows what he was telling her. Our four friends got a bit louder; every once in a while I could hear a word or two. Much as I wanted to know what kind of tall tales Bret was spinning, I thought it better to pay close attention to our phony ranchers. I heard "Charlie" and "free" once or twice, though not in the same breath. The only full sentence I heard was from the youngest of the bunch, and it was, "We better hope the explosion don't kill him." Sounded like they were gonna blow up whatever car Daggett was being held prisoner in. That did not bode well for the rest of the train or the people on it. Especially us.

Just as I was beginning to think the best thing we could do was get off in Colorado Springs and catch the next train, Bret excused himself from Beauty's presence and headed back my way. I'd think she'd sent him packing except for the slightly lopsided grin plastered all over his face. Until he glanced in my direction and saw the worry on mine.

"The boys?" he asked when he sat down.

"Yep. They're fixin' to blow up somethin'. Sounds like Daggett's here alright."

"He is," Bret answered. "Her name's Ginny Malone an she's Pinkerton. She thinks we're Federal Marshals sent to help her prevent it."

I started to say something in protest and he held up a hand. "I know, I know. Laredo all over again. Except it's not. She knows our names, an she needs our help." He went on to explain the whole situation and much as I didn't like it I had to agree with him. We couldn't let her battle those odds by herself. It just wouldn't be right. So I sighed and nodded my head. Bret and Bart Maverick, Federal Marshals. I don't know whether Pappy would die or just kill us, after what we all went through in Laredo.

That was beside the point now. "So what's next?" I questioned.

"You in?" As if he had to ask.

"You oughta know I am."

"I'm goin' back to tell her what you heard."

I started to say, "Don't you think I oughta tell her myself?" but he was already gone. Big Brother can move fast when he wants to.

Much to my surprise, he didn't sit down with her; she followed him back to our seats. I stood and tipped my hat, offering her the spot next to me (of course). She offered her hand to shake and I took it and accommodated her. I've never shaken anybody's hand that looked like that before. Her hand didn't feel soft and tender, but rather firm and strong. I have to admit my fascination with this new breed of Pinkerton agent.

Her voice was low and conspiratorial, and I strained to hear her. "Glad to meet you, Bart. Bret told me what Cafferty said about the explosion. Anything else since then?"

I shook my head. "Nothin' of any substance. Cafferty seems to be the only one doin' any talkin' over there."

"Doesn't surprise me," she answered. "He may be the youngest, but he's the de facto leader with Charlie out of commission."

I took a guess, but it was a pretty sure bet. "And his brothers? They let him?"

"Jake doesn't say much. He takes a back seat to Cafferty. Since he's only a half-brother, I guess. Neal steps in only when Cafferty gets – shall we say – a little outta control."

"Ya suppose that's where the bruise came from?" Bret asked.

"Probably," Ginny nodded. "And Sam doesn't have a dog in this fight, bein' as he's only an enlisted man."

"Cafferty," I repeated. "Kind of an unusual name, isn't it?"

Miss Malone laughed a little, quietly. "The story goes that Cafferty was the name of the fella that saved Mama Jones from the Indians when the wagon train her and the family was in got attacked. Lost her husband but saved Neal an her; when the baby was born she named him Cafferty."

"Where'd Jake come from?" Bret was as curious as I was about the older Jones boy.

Another chuckle from our Pinkerton agent. "Youthful indiscretion by the ole man before he met Mama."

"Mama got a name?"

"Terra Sue. Part Comanche, some say. Still alive, livin' in Mexico, waitin' for her boys to come home."

Interesting tale, but there was more that Ginny hadn't told us. "How'd they hook up with Daggett?"

"Now that's a story," the agent continued. "Daggett was in Mexico tryin' to steal horses when he came across the Jones boys, all three of 'em. By that time Jake had found his Pa's family and pretty well hooked up with 'em. Daggett left with two fresh horses and three Jones boys in tow."

"Lovely family," my brother remarked.

"Ain't that the truth," I agreed.

Before we could get any further, the train pulled into the station in Colorado Springs and something changed. Up to now the Jones boys had been reasonably quiet, with the occasional loud word, as I said before. Suddenly all four of them fell dead still and unusually attentive to what was going on outside, which seemed to be nothing more than normal activity at a train depot.

Two more men approached the car we were in and climbed on board. One was several inches taller than the other, but again they had that 'related to each other' look. Garrett seemed to have a particular affinity for gang members with familial connections. Some misplaced sense of loyalty, perhaps?

The two newcomers were different. Where our 'ranchers' could have passed for just that, the two newest additions were obviously hard-core gunslingers. And I recognized the shorter one from a 'Wanted' poster I'd seen while I 'visited' the sheriff in Fort Worth. His name was Victor Threadway, and he was wanted for murders he'd committed robbing a stage somewhere in northern Texas. Rumor was Threadway had a brother named Mitchell who was even more of a snake than he was. I'm usually pretty good at keepin' a poker face, but these two surprised me and I reacted almost imperceptibly. Ginny was a sharp gal and she caught the shift in my demeanor. "Know those two?" she asked, and I gave a brief nod.

"Victor and Mitchell Threadway. Victor's wanted for murder in Texas. I ain't sure about Mitchell. But he's the meaner of the two, so somebody's after him somewhere." Just as I finished my information the train started up again.

Bret spoke up about then, and bless his little heart, he knew more about the tall one. "Mitchell's real handy with explosives. Blew up a bank in San Francisco and got away with over forty thousand dollars couple years ago."

Now that had me curious. How had Brother Bret come across that particular piece of information, and why did he remember it?

"That's their demolitions man," Ginny offered as the Threadway brothers took seats right behind the other four. "Wonder how far outta town we're gonna be before they try to spring Daggett?"

Cafferty turned in his seat and started an intense discussion with Mitchell Threadway; I didn't think we were gonna hafta wait too long to find out. "I think we better have a plan," I suggested before anybody else could.