Along Came Jones Page #2

- That's for my name, Melody Jones.

For Monte Jarrad too.

You don't look much like him, really.

Excepting you're built something like him.

- Tall and spindly.

- They took me for somebody else?

That's why I did what I did,

so's you wouldn't get killed... by mistake.

Oh.

- Then it wasn't me they were scared of?

- They thought you was Monte Jarrad.

You say somebody is fixing

to kill this here Monte Jarrad?

- Nobody but the sheriff and his posse.

- Any particular reason outside of prejudice?

Well, there's always the reward, of course.

1000 dollars, dead or alive.

Mr Unsmiling Jones,

a man with a certain standing in the community.

Whoa.

- Is this Monte?

- No, they just took him for Monte.

Of course it's Monte.

Hi, Monte. Heard a lot about you.

Don't pay no attention to Pop.

He's a little mixed up.

This is Uncle Roscoe, ain't it?

Hi, Uncle Roscoe.

I'd ask you to alight and eat, but I think

you'd better keep going, south.

I ain't in any hurry.

Can't you understand?

There's gonna be a posse after you.

Not after me. I ain't done nothin'.

- Ain't you gonna alight?

- No, he's gonna keep going.

You can't be as thick-headed as that.

This country's full of men

just aiming to shoot you on sight.

- Get outta here while you still can.

- You heard what she said.

- Get going.

- Who are you?

He's my brother Avery.

Now, are you going?

All right.

Come on... Uncle Roscoe.

Cherry.

Cherry.

Let me in, Cherry.

That's just the way it was.

One punch and Ira Waggoner

was flat in the road.

Wish he'd broken his neck. That's what I get

for tyin' up with somebody I ain't never seen.

- You don't even know Waggoner?

- I never saw him. Leo picked him.

It was fixed that the shotgun guy that got me

was gonna be left behind.

Outside the horse,

there wasn't supposed to be no shootin'.

- I got a good mind to blast his belly open.

- That's right.

- Get outta here!

- I was...

Never mind. Get to town and look for Leo,

so I don't have to slope outta here by myself.

Sure, Monte.

You stay here.

Now, what about this fella?

- He's nothing but a tramp cowhand.

- Stop talking like a fool or like I'm a fool.

How do you know

he ain't one of Luke Packard's men?

Come on, Monte. Sit down.

There. Now, he's nothing but a tramp cowhand

who just wandered into Payneville

with an old side rider.

On account of the initials on his saddle,

they took him for you.

Cotton was fixing to shoot him

when I got this idea.

I figured the best thing I could do was

help them keep on thinking he was you.

Tomorrow, the posse'll be ridin' after him

50 miles from here,

and the north'll be wide open for you.

- See anything wrong about that?

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