Pinkerton

Stand there.

Eh, get it up.

Now.

Get some manners.

He's bleeding.

So?

Yeah, just thought I'd bring it up,

case I was the only one who noticed is all.

You know me?

Go on. You can say it out loud.

Private eye.

At your service.

I heard she saved Lincoln.

Indeed.

When Kate came to see me

for the first time in Chicago,

I thought at first she'd misunderstood the job posting.

I wasn't looking for a secretary,

I was looking for detectives.

No woman had ever applied.

No American detective agency had ever hired

a female investigator before.

But Ms. Warren made a convincing case.

She could infiltrate places more easily

because no one would expect a woman

to be an undercover investigator.

She could befriend the wives

and girlfriends of suspected criminals.

Women have an eye for detail.

Indeed they do.

They make very excellent observers.

You got a soft spot for women's rights, Pinkerton?

Perhaps, or perhaps I'm just a shrewd businessman

that knows that Ms. Warren is going

to make me a whole lot of money.

Or perhaps you're all just a bunch of dogs

let off the leash by the railroad.

Is that right?

I came to Illinois from Scotland in '42.

I settled in a little town called Dundee

and almost immediately became infatuated with police work.

I served as deputy sheriff

in two different Chicago area counties

before becoming a special agent

for the US Post Office in Chicago.

That meant to impress me?

No, it's meant to frighten you.

What do you wanna know?

James-Younger.

The railroad hired one of my best operatives,

John Witcher, to find Jesse

and his brother, Frank.

John's corpse was discovered last week.

He'd bled out from a bullet wound to the stomach,

his head, shoulders, and face had been chewed off

by wild hogs.

Now some say Jesse isn't responsible for John's death,

but my men and I know Jesse's darn style when we see it.

This modern day Robin Hood.

I share no such romantic allusions about the man,

so much so that I have made this agency's top priority

the capture our death of Jesse James.

What do you want me to do about it, huh?

I didn't kill your man.

Tell me where I can find the James Brothers.

How should I know?

You were seen riding toward Lafayette

with them day before last.

Now, don't make a liar outta me.

Put your head down.

Raise your fingers.

Ah!

You have five fingers on each hand

and I've cleared my schedule for the evening.

So what's it gonna be?

I don't know where Jesse is, ah!

Shall we end this?

He's on his way to Clay County.

There's a farmhouse there.

Farmhouse? Whose?

How should I know?

Okay. Okay.

It's his mother, okay? Please.

That's all I know.

I believe you.

Take him outside and toss him in the back.

- Now, get outta here. - Tell the doctor

a mule ran over his hand.

What's the plan?

Kate heads back to Maryland.

Ward, you stay here with me.

We have some unfinished business to settle

before we ride for Clay County.

- What's in Maryland? - George Gordon.

Who?

Bank Teller murdered by an Alexander Pete Drysdale.

I want you to get close to Drysdale's wife.

We need a confession and location of the stolen money

And after?

You can find Clay County on a map, can't you?

Yes sir.

- Ward. - Safe travels, Ms. Warren.

Find us someplace to sleep for the night.

Got it, boss.

And then what did he do?

Us fella, he knocked down there

in the mud and he looked up to me

and he called me something I'd never heard before.

A Mexican strawberry.

Dried beans.

Yeah, kind so bad, gets you back on the trots

and passing the Mormon tea, if you know what I mean.

Odd.

Yeah.

How 'bout you, Alan?

What's the worst they ever called you?

Men like me, I've been through the mill, Ward.

I don't get called butch if I'm honest,

What of this unfinished business?

What?

- He's watching us. - Who?

That finger swell fellow we roughed up earlier.

I don't see a thing out there.

Wait.

Son

I think I'll retired for the night.

Give someone to dispose of him

and meet me at the marshal's office

first thing in the morning, will you?

Marshal?

I'll explain when we get there.

Nice suits.

Morning Marshal.

Something I can do for you, fellas.

I'm Alan Pinkerton.

This is Special Agent Ward Lamon.

Chicago.

I know who you are.

Very well.

We'll just skip to the reason for our visit then.

Say, you fellas wouldn't know anything about

some outlaw shot dead last night, would you?

No.

Shame, I was so certain you might.

Mr. Ward and I required transportation to Missouri.

- What kind of transportation? - The inconspicuous kind.

What's wrong with the railroad?

There's a strike by the Steel Workers Union.

At the moment it would be wise for us

to travel off the rails.

I thought the Pinkertons were employed

by the United States government.

We'll gladly pay you for your trouble.

No trouble at all.

However, my answer is no.

- No? - That's right.

The Pinkerton agency is a paramilitary wing of big business.

We don't deal with those industrialists in this town.

Maybe this will help you reconsider your answer.

Thank you, but no.

There's got to be something we can do.

Bully Hamilton.

Come again.

The man's wanted for the robbery

of three stage coaches east of the Rocklands.

Folks say he's hiding in the trees.

If you know where he is, why have you not arrested him?

I'm busy.

We bring in this Bully Hamilton fella

and you provide us with the transportation we need

to Clay County.

And I keep that bag of coins too.

Hamilton.

He a dangerous kind?

He can be.

You got yourself a deal.

Oh, I'm curious.

What waits for a couple of men

like yourselves in Clay County?

Jesse James.

Marshal.

Why are we doing this again?

We need discrete passage into Clay County.

Yeah, why don't we just,

easier to get a order from the marshal?

That would take weeks.

James is going to Clay County now.

Let's just find this Hamilton fellow and bring him in.

Let's not waste any time.

Which way you reckon?

Smart man heads into the bush

and only comes out to rob folks

Or when he gets hungry.

Hey, that Marshal used a word earlier.

It's para but... Paramilitary.

That's, that's it.

What's that mean?

It means a group of people acting like soldiers

even when they ain't.

It's not official.