《Red Dead2: The Unburdened Soul》


 1 - Ambush

    1899, America, northeastern Ambarino, Spider Gorge.


    This year, winter was exceptionally late in departing.


    Even though it was already May, the overcast sky continued to shower the land with goose feather-like snowflakes, burying everything beneath a blanket of snow.


    "Damn it, how can it still be snowing so heavily in May!" Stephen muttered under his breath, gazing at the vast expanse of white before him, the thought of trekking through such weather filling him with discontent.


    The heavy snow severely hampered his progress, forcing him to trudge slowly through the drifts.


    He reached up with his free left hand and removed his wide-brimmed cowboy hat, revealing a head of blond hair.


    He grasped the brim and smacked the hat hard against his leg twice to dislodge the accumulated snow, then quickly placed it back on his head. In just that brief moment, he could feel the wind biting at his head.


    The howling north wind whipped snowflakes into his collar, sleeves, and other openings, causing Stephen to involuntarily shiver.


    He tightened his thick black coat and pulled his scarf up higher around his neck, hoping to withstand the cold a little longer.


    Supporting his hat, he looked up at the leaden sky. Night was approaching, and he needed to find a sheltered place to camp soon.


    If he kept walking with his head down like this, he felt as though his tall riding boots would soon freeze solid.


    Leading his horse, he followed the creek northward for a while. If all went according to plan, he would reach his destination in another two or three hours.


    But inevitably, the unexpected was about to occur.


    Just as Stephen reached the edge of a ridge, four audacious figures emerged from behind a rock outcrop, surrounding him with their weapons drawn.


    "Hey, kid, looks like you''ve got a bountiful haul there," the apparent leader said with a smirk, eyeing the two horses behind Stephen with clear satisfaction.


    "Whoa, check out that white horse he''s got, you see that? She''s a beauty! That thing''s gotta be worth a fortune!"


    This robber knew his worth, instantly picking out the most valuable prize.


    "Come on, guys, really? You''re out robbing in this weather? Are bandits really scraping the bottom of the barrel these days?" Stephen said, showing no fear as he sized up the four men, even managing a touch of mockery.


    A lie wouldn''t hurt, the truth is a swift blade.


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    Stephen''s words enraged the four bandits, and they all raised their guns, pointing them at him.


    "Enough talk, toss your gun, or I''ll blow your head off!" the leader barked at Stephen.


    "Okay, okay, okay, don''t get excited, you''re scaring me to death," Stephen said dramatically, clutching his head in mock fear. "I''m getting it, I''m getting it!"


    "Hurry up! Quit stalling!" the man yelled, trying to intimidate him.


    Stephen reached his hand slowly toward the back of his waist. "Alright, alright, you see, I''m reaching for my gun now, and I''m going to drop it on the ground. You all just try to stay calm, don''t shoot, I''m a real wimp."


    "You do not want to die? Then hurry."


    Stephen slowly pulled out his gun, a very beautiful Schofield Revolver, adorned with a pretty flower engraving, clearly an expensive piece.


    "I''m going to drop the gun, I''m going to drop it right now."


    Stephen shakily dropped the pistol onto the ground in front of him. While everyone''s attention was focused on the gun, his other hand instantly pulled another pistol from his jacket!!


    "Bang! Bang!"


    Two extremely close gunshots were heard and the two gangsters who were standing in the front immediately fell to the ground, their fresh red blood tainted the pure snow, which looked extremely glaring.


    The remaining two were stunned. What was going on? Where did this guy get the gun? How did his teammates die suddenly?


    But they will be in a daze, Stephen will not.


    He jumped directly forward and rolled in the snow. When he got up again, he was already in front of another gangster!!


    At this time, the gun in his hand was ready to fire again.


    "Bang!" With another gunshot, the third gangster left this wonderful world.


    At this time, the last gangster reacted and hurriedly raised the lever-action rifle in his hand and started firing frantically!


    He swears that his rate of fire this time has definitely reached the level of a sharpshooter!


    "Bang bang bang"


    But it was useless. Several consecutive gunshots all hit his companion, and he turned his companion''s body into a sieve.


    The power of the lever gun in his hand was so bad that the bullets didn''t even pass through his companion''s body and hit Stephen.


    Stephen was experienced in dealing with these people. After killing the gangster, he did not get up immediately, but used the guy''s body as a meat shield.


    At this time, the last unlucky robber also reacted and hurriedly stopped shooting. But this stop gave Stephen a chance.


    He grabbed the body and threw it directly at the man.


    The man subconsciously raised his head, looked at the body of his companion, and even wanted to reach out and catch it.


    Stephen shot the unlucky guy directly to the ground.


    When he fell to the ground, his companion''s body also hit him, and the two died together like this.


    "That''s it? You''re learning to rob people with this little skill?" Stephen inserted his gun back into his waist and looked at the four corpses on the ground with some disdain.


    He looked around and made sure there was no one else, then bent down and searched these people.


    Stephen isn''t rich, a little bit is a little bit.


    He observed the four robbers and found that they were wearing ragged clothes. They looked like scavengers, looking extremely pitiful.


    There was no other information. These people were too poor. They only had a few dollars in their pockets after searching them.


    The rifles these people used were also broken. Based on the principle of never returning empty-handed, Stephen could only take their bullets away.


    "What poor ghosts." Stephen couldn''t help but mutter twice, then turned and left.


    As for the corpses, let them stay here, he was not interested in collecting the corpses for these guys.


    He led his horse on the road again.


    He walked along the creek to the north for a while, until he saw a protruding rock under the hillside not far away before stopping.


    This is a good place to camp, just enough to block some wind and snow.


    Stephen hurriedly led his horse behind the rock. This place was really good, there was just a small place between the stone crevices where he could make a fire, it seemed that he didn''t have to freeze tonight.


    But before making a fire, there were things to do.

 2 - Stephens Past

    Stephen pulled the reins, tying his horse to a nearby sapling. He turned, a hint of satisfaction playing on his lips as he surveyed the two horses following behind.


    Those bandits were right. This haul was truly bountiful, no wonder they were desperate enough to risk it all.


    He had more than just rabbits and whitetail deer; he even managed to bag a foolish wolf. All of them skinned, gutted, and securely packed on the horses with oilcloth.


    Luckily, the weather had been snowy recently, temperatures well below freezing. The meat was frozen solid, no need to worry about it spoiling.


    The packhorse also carried supplies purchased from the town down the mountain: whiskey, cigarettes, canned vegetables, bullets, and other miscellaneous necessities.


    Good thing the packhorse was sturdy enough. Hauling such a heavy load in this weather would be too much for most horses.


    Stephen labored to unload the horses, one item at a time. He grabbed a small horse brush to clear away the snow from the packhorse''s coat.


    He¡¯d had this horse for over half a year now. He had to admit, it was a good horse. Always diligent, never temperamental.


    It had been working hard these past few days. Once they reached their destination, he¡¯d have to find some premium feed to give it a boost.


    After taking care of the reliable packhorse, Stephen turned to face the other horse, more like a lady.


    If horses had ranks, this one would be at the very top. Stephen dared say it was one of the finest horses in the world.


    A purebred Arabian. Stephen considered himself no expert, but he had worked in a stable as a kid. He knew a legendary breed when he saw one. He never thought he''d own something like this.


    The horse was pure white, without a single blemish. Standing in the snow, it nearly blended into the white landscape.


    Its muscles were like forged steel. Large, intelligent eyes sparkled with life. Elegant posture, regal air. It would easily fetch $1,000 on the market.


    "Hey, your highness, don''t give me that look. You wouldn''t kick me, would you?" Stephen reached out to stroke its long mane, trying to soothe it.


    But the horse seemed impatient, tossing its head and neighing loudly.


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    "Alright, alright, I''ll leave you alone." Stephen raised his hands and took a couple of steps back. Seemed like the princess was in a bad mood today. Best not to provoke her.


    He¡¯d spent nearly a month tracking and capturing this horse in the mountains. Now, he finally had her.


    He didn¡¯t know how such a magnificent horse ended up near Lake Isabella. But since it was unclaimed, he figured he might as well make it his own.


    Stephen built a campfire behind some rocks and quickly set up his tent against the mountain face. He then settled down comfortably by the fire.


    The tent and rocks blocked the howling wind. The small campfire provided much-needed warmth.


    He quickly pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and felt the smoke fill his lungs. He exhaled slowly, letting the fatigue slip away.


    After finishing the cigarette, he took out his small pot and scooped some snow into it.


    He then pulled out a small bag of leftover jerky from lunch, and cut it into small pieces with his belt knife. He opened a can of beans and poured it all into the pot.


    While he waited for the food to cook, Stephen''s thoughts drifted.


    He was a time traveler.


    For some reason, Zhou Zheng, a Chinese man playing games at home, had suddenly crossed over to the American West in 1897, becoming a white cowboy named Stephen Johnson.


    When he first arrived, his original memories and the memories of the body he inhabited were jumbled together, leaving his mind in chaos and his mental state unstable.


    Wounded and confused, he wandered through the Grizzlies West for days until a kind couple rescued him.


    Mr. Yake Adler and his wife, Mrs. Sadie Adler.


    They were good people. They took Stephen in, nursed his wounds, and helped him through that dangerous time.


    Under their care, Stephen recovered. He was finally able to understand his new identity.


    The original Stephen Johnson came from Chicago in the eastern United States. He was an orphan and a thug.


    After owing a local mob boss a large sum of money, he boarded a train to the West, hoping to escape his debts and strike it rich.


    Unfortunately, he was robbed as soon as he stepped onto Western soil.


    He knew how to use a gun, and he was quite skilled. But he was no match for the ruthless bandits.


    He was shot several times during the fight and died in a valley in Grizzlies West. Then, the current Stephen took his place.


    Three months later, Stephen recovered and said goodbye to the Adlers, embarking on his own Western adventure.


    When he left, Mr. Yake generously gave Stephen a packhorse and a used Schofield Revolver, which became Stephen''s starting capital.


    To be honest, Stephen didn¡¯t know how to survive in the West at first. In his previous life, he was a college student. In this life, he was a low-level thug. What could that combination do?


    But people can be forced to adapt. Anything but math.


    By chance, Stephen became a bounty hunter.


    He helped the police capture criminals and earned money for a living.


    This was not an easy job. In the past two years, Stephen struggled, risked his life countless times, and failed often.


    But he finally managed to make something of himself. Recently, Stephen single-handedly captured a notorious pair of outlaw lovebirds and collected a large reward.


    Now that he had money, it was time to return home, in a sense.


    Stephen couldn¡¯t return to his old home, but the Adlers were the best people he¡¯d ever met, and he had to repay them.


    He spent all of his money buying gifts, even some beautiful clothes and jewelry.


    And so, a month ago, he headed up the mountain, hoping to surprise the Adlers.

 3 - Inferno

    The first rays of dawn barely kissed the horizon when Stephen stretched and crawled out of his tent.


    The heavy snowfall from the previous night had subsided, leaving a world blanketed in white. Stephen glanced back, noticing that his own tracks were completely buried.


    Silence enveloped him. He looked up at the vast expanse of sky and took a deep breath.


    For a moment, it felt as if the entire world was frozen in time.


    The sharp cries of a few birds flying over a distant mountain jolted Stephen, reawakening the frozen world.


    He had slept well that night. In fact, he had begun to grow accustomed to the rugged outdoor life.


    During his year as a bounty hunter, he had spent more nights under the stars than in a bed.


    The American West was vast, and criminals often disappeared into the mountains to start new lives. Stephen had to spend most of his time sleeping outdoors to catch them.


    Being a bounty hunter was not for the faint of heart. Between braving the elements and facing desperate criminals, it took a certain kind of person to survive. Fortunately, Stephen had his own set of skills.


    He pulled out a pouch of ground coffee and a small bag of used coffee grounds, brewing himself a pot of bitter coffee using melted snow.


    This type of coffee was popular among Westerners in this era. It was simple to make, incredibly stimulating, but lacked in flavor.


    The Wild West was teeming with cowboys, criminals, gang members, and itinerant figures like bounty hunters.


    Their lives were far from the romanticized tales of quick justice and easy money. Most of them were desperately poor.


    Like those four unlucky men from yesterday, they could die at any moment.


    They woke up every day worrying about their next meal, often fighting and even killing each other for a few dollars.


    To save money, they would mix fresh grounds with used grounds, resulting in a coffee that was overwhelmingly strong and bitter.


    Every pore on their body would radiate bitterness with each sip. It wasn''t delicious, but it definitely provided a jolt.


    As a bounty hunter, Stephen had inevitably adopted some of these habits. He had gone from hating it to accepting it, and the experiences along the way were best left unsaid.


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    He lifted the cup, staring at the dark liquid. He raised it to his lips and threw back his head, gulping it down in one go.


    The bitter, scalding coffee burned down his throat and into his stomach, jolting him awake.


    To be accurate, he had been jolted awake by the bitterness.


    After a moment of silent suffering, Stephen was fully alert. He began to pack up his gear, preparing to leave.


    He decided to skip breakfast. He wasn''t far from the Adlers'' place, maybe two hours away. He was sure they would offer him a good meal.


    He stowed away his tent, bedding, pots, and pans on the pack horse, then doused the campfire with snow.


    With everything packed, Stephen led his two horses down the trail.


    The snow-covered mountain path was treacherous. Stephen struggled to lead the way, his feet sinking deep into the snow with every step, nearly sending him sprawling more than once.


    The black horse, burdened with the heavy load, followed closely behind Stephen, head bowed and struggling through the snow.


    In contrast, the white Arabian seemed to glide effortlessly across the snow, head held high and appearing quite at ease.


    Clearly, this horse was used to this kind of weather.


    And so, the man and his horses slowly made their way forward. As the sun reached its zenith, Stephen finally neared his destination.


    Looking at the narrowing path ahead, Stephen muttered, "Why would they choose to live up here in the mountains when they could live in town?"


    Suddenly, a gust of wind blew, pelting Stephen''s face with snow. He reached up to wipe it away, only to find black ash smeared across his brown gloves.


    "What''s going on? Why is there so much ash?" Stephen wondered aloud, looking around but seeing nothing.


    "Could a fire be burning nearby? It shouldn''t be possible with all this snow. Could something have happened to Mr. Yake''s place?" A knot formed in Stephen''s stomach. He wiped his face again and started running towards the Adler ranch, leading his horses behind him.


    He was stunned by what he saw when he arrived at the ranch. The humble, cozy cabin had been reduced to a smoldering ruin, engulfed in flames.


    "No, this can''t be... Mr. Yake and Mrs. Sadie were always so careful. They wouldn''t let something like this happen." Stephen couldn''t believe his eyes. He dropped the reins and ran towards the burning wreckage.


    *Thump!*


    Stephen tripped over something on the ground. He scrambled to his feet and saw something that didn''t fit.


    He brushed away the snow and uncovered a body.


    "A white man with a gun. Must be a bandit," Stephen muttered, his voice low and grim. "He''s carrying a lantern, which means he died at night. Otherwise, he wouldn''t need it."


    He turned the body over and saw a bullet hole in the man''s back. "Shot in the back, right through the heart. The shooter must''ve been an expert."


    The man had only one wound. Stephen reached into the hole and extracted a yellow bullet.


    "Just a regular revolver bullet, nothing special." Stephen looked up.


    They were in the middle of nowhere, and based on the way the body fell and the location of the wound, the shooter had been standing by the cowshed.


    That was 20 meters from the house. Being able to hit a running man in the dark from so far away meant that the shooter was a crack shot.


    Who fired the shot? Mr. Yake or Mrs. Sadie? Both of them were good with guns, in Stephen''s mind.


    Stephen looked at the corpse again and noticed the man''s green scarf. It was the mark of the O''Driscoll gang.


    The O''Driscolls were a notorious gang in the West. Their leader, Colm O''Driscoll, was a ruthless man.


    They robbed and murdered without a second thought. Stephen had arrested a few O''Driscolls before. Could this be revenge?


    No, Stephen shook his head. Besides himself and a few friends, no one knew about the Adlers.


    It was more likely a robbery gone wrong.

 4 - Vows of Vengeance

    Stephen kicked the corpse hard and continued toward the cabin.


    Here were two more bodies, all members of the O''Driscoll gang.


    The way they died was similar to the first one ¨C all shot with a handgun, all killed with a single shot.


    However, these men were covered in black ash, then snow, and their clothes showed signs of scorching.


    Judging from the bullet placement in their wounds and the angle of entry, assuming the bodies hadn''t been moved much, there should have been three shooters.


    One at the doorway, one behind the wagon, and one, presumably, the sharpshooter near the barn.


    Stephen went into the barn and, sure enough, a line of huge footprints appeared near the barn.


    Stephen crouched down, closely examining the footprints. Yep, this guy had ambushed the O''Driscolls from here.


    This guy was a sharpshooter. Stephen noticed that only three bullets had been fired from here. Three bullets to take down three bandits, at night. This guy must be terrifying.


    Stephen then went behind the wagon. There was someone here too, and he had killed two men.


    Wait, something on the wagon! Stephen saw something amiss with the wagon. He slowly reached out and gently brushed the snow off the wagon.


    Stephen''s hands began to tremble, and he could barely stand. Even though only a small part of the person lying in the wagon was visible, he already knew who it was.


    Tears instantly welled up in his eyes. Mr. Yake, the man who had saved him, taken care of him, and been so kind to him. He had died at his doorstep, at the hands of a gang of despicable bandits.


    Stephen cried silently. In his past life, he had been an orphan. The original owner of this body had also been a street urchin. In his memories, Mr. Yake and Mrs. Sadie were the only people who had given him the warmth of a home.


    He wiped away his tears and carefully lifted Mr. Yake''s body down, gently clearing the snow from him.


    He examined the body closely. Apart from the gunshot wounds, there were also signs of beating. And, judging from the lividity on the body, his time of death was different from the men on the ground.


    From the condition of the body, Mr. Yake had been dead for at least a week. Of course, the freezing environment would naturally affect Stephen''s judgment.


    But regardless, this was an open-air environment. But the time of death certainly wouldn''t exceed half a month.


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    That meant, when he was playing hide-and-seek with that white Arabian in Grizzlies West... Stephen covered his face, remorse filling his chest. If he hadn''t gone to catch that horse, maybe none of this would...


    Looking at Mr. Yake''s unclosed eyes, Stephen clenched his fist and said fiercely, "Don''t worry, Mr. Yake, I''ll avenge you! I will send all of them to hell!! I will!!"


    He took out his blanket and wrapped Mr. Yake''s body in it, then continued searching the house.


    The house was a complete wreck. Stephen searched through the ruins bit by bit.


    Mrs. Sadie¡¯s figure hadn¡¯t been found yet, Stephen¡¯s heart was praying that he would not find her, yet was afraid that he would not find her.


    If she had been captured by those bandits, then...


    Stephen dared not think about it any further. He desperately searched through the ruins, eventually finding only a photo that had been burned at the edges.


    It was a photo of the couple together. Looking at the happy couple in the photo, Stephen''s tears flowed again.


    Next to it on the ground was an iron box. Stephen opened it and found a platinum necklace inside.


    He remembered how Mrs. Sadie had proudly shown off the necklace, saying that Mr. Yake had used it to propose to her.


    At that time, Mrs. Sadie''s face was full of happiness and longing for a bright future, which Stephen greatly envied.


    He carefully placed the photo and necklace into the inside pocket of his coat, and then searched the house again.


    Everything on the ground had been destroyed by the fire. Stephen made a circle and didn''t find anything useful. Now, only the basement was left.


    He naturally knew that there was a basement in the house. He lifted the rubble and pulled open the basement door.


    Stephen then grabbed a piece of wood from the rubble, lit it, and slowly descended into the basement.


    This was the family''s storage room, with only some food for the winter and some tools. However, Stephen still found something here.


    Some of the food had been eaten, but not much. On the nearby wall, Stephen saw some scratch marks.


    The scratches were chaotic and deep, left by someone in extreme fear and anger. It seemed that one possibility was that Mrs. Sadie had hidden in the basement.


    The faint smell of excrement in the air also confirmed this.


    Combining the previous discoveries, the whole picture was now clear. The O''Driscoll gang had robbed this place, and Mr. Yake had died at their hands. And Mrs. Sadie had hidden in the basement, enduring a painful period.


    Then three more people had come. They had not only killed the O''Driscoll gang but also burned the place down, and Mrs. Sadie must have been taken away by them.


    But who could they be? Stephen couldn''t figure it out. Superheroes? Don''t be ridiculous. This world only had supervillains, not Superman wearing his underwear on the outside.


    The most likely scenario was that robbers had encountered robbers. But who would be so bold as to rob the O''Driscoll gang? These men were infamous in the nearby states, and few people dared to directly confront them.


    Stephen slowly walked out of the ruins. Not far away was a stable. Stephen slowly walked into it.


    There was another body here. Stephen could tell at a glance that this guy had been strangled to death.


    The body was covered in injuries from being beaten. It seemed that the guy who had killed him was a real brute.


    That was it. That was all the clues Stephen could observe. He remembered everything here in his heart, carried Mr. Yake''s body to the cliff behind the house.


    He found a shovel in the basement, buried him, and found a relatively intact wooden board to make a tombstone.


    Following the customs of his previous life, Stephen lit a cigarette, poured some wine, and opened all kinds of canned goods he had brought and placed them in front of the tombstone.


    "Mr. Yake, don''t worry, I will find Mrs. Sadie. Whether she is dead or alive, I will bring her back to your side."


    Stephen drank the bottle of wine in one gulp and solemnly swore to the tombstone in front of him.

 5 - Night Raid

    Stephen didn''t rest, or rather, he didn''t want to.


    Whenever he had free time, he would think of the warm scene of Mr. Yake and Mrs. Sadie, which made him suffer terribly.


    He threw all the corpses of those O''Driscoll gang scum off the cliff, they were not worthy to stay in this beautiful place.


    Moreover, he believed the wolves and hyenas down the mountain would love them.


    After everything was cleaned up, Stephen sat in the still intact stable, took out a map of the nearby states and observed it carefully.


    He was too late, what happened here had occurred several days prior and heavy snow covered up all the traces.


    There was no way he could catch up now, but he needed a direction.


    This place was too desolate, there was only an abandoned village in the middle of the valley that could hide people. Stephen immediately decided to go to Shady Belle and see.


    There was no need to take the supplies he brought back, Stephen placed everything in front of Mr. Yake''s grave, considering it an offering for the memorial.


    Then he removed the pack saddle from the pack horse and put it on the white horse.


    He didn''t have time to slowly walk back with two horses, he had to leave quickly. The white horse, capable of traveling unimpeded on the snow, was naturally the best choice.


    The white horse was very dissatisfied with the things on its back, struggling to throw off the saddle.


    Stephen was in no mood to waste time with it, he gave it two punches, making its head buzz, and it immediately quieted down.


    Faced with the angry Stephen, even the proud creature had to lower its head, completely convinced.


    After removing everything from the black horse, Stephen stroked its head to say goodbye. This fellow had accompanied him for so long, but now it was time to part ways.


    Stephen gave it a hard slap on the rump, the horse turned its head to look at Stephen, then slowly left.


    Only taking the necessary food and survival supplies, he threw everything else away. Carrying too much would only affect his speed. With everything prepared, Stephen grabbed his weapons and jumped on the horse.


    A Springfield Rifle, an old Schofield Revolver given to him by Mr. Yake, a custom engraved Schofield, a Pump-Action Shotgun, a roll of rope for catching people, a dagger and a long knife, and some ammunition.


    This was all of Stephen''s equipment. He squeezed the horse''s belly and with a shake of the reins, the white horse under his crotch carried Stephen and rushed out quickly.


    This guy was indeed magnificent, able to gallop like the wind on such rugged and snowy mountain roads.


    It seemed to know where to go and where to go fast, carrying Stephen up and down the mountain paths. What would have taken Stephen half a day to walk, it completed in less than an hour.


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    Soon, Stephen arrived at his first stop, the village of Shady Belle in the center of the valley.


    Seeing the state of the village, Stephen knew he had found the right place.


    A wisp of smoke slowly rose from the long-abandoned village, several horses were tied in front of several dilapidated houses, and there were several covered wagons around, indicating that there were quite a few of them.


    Stephen dismounted, led the horse to hide under a tree on the side, and took out his binoculars to carefully observe the movements in the village.


    There were two sentries at the entrance of the village, both carrying weapons, looking very elite.


    Under a dilapidated house not far away, a fat man was burning a fire, seemingly a cook preparing food. There were also two women walking around, followed by a child?


    Judging from this alone, these people didn''t seem like bandits at all, but more like a group of refugees.


    Stephen was very confused. Could it be that they really encountered kind people who saved Mrs. Sadie?


    You know, how could bandits who rob houses carry children? Women were possible, after all, those people had needs, but what about the child?


    Stephen put down his binoculars and looked up at the sky. It was gradually getting dark. He took out his pocket watch, it was already past 5 o''clock, and he estimated that it would be completely dark in another hour.


    The situation was unclear, Stephen decided to act when it was dark, and then find Mrs. Sadie first.


    Stephen led the horse to a forest in the distance, bending down while walking and sweeping away the accumulated snow, so as to eliminate the traces of his passage as quickly as possible under the heavy snow.


    After tying the white horse, he quietly squatted on the ground, organizing his equipment.


    This was a covert operation, so he wouldn''t take the long guns. He put the rifle and shotgun back on the horse''s back, only taking his two pistols, the spare dagger behind his waist, and his long knife.


    This was a long knife with a very Chinese flavor, a trophy Stephen obtained half a year ago when he captured a Korean fugitive. He liked this knife very much, so he kept it with him.


    In his previous life, he was also an amateur who had practiced a few moves. In this life, relying on his strong physique, quick eyes, and quick hands, he rarely encountered opponents.


    Therefore, sometimes, compared to shooting from a distance, he preferred to swing his knife and chop.


    The wind in the mountains was strong and cold, Stephen squatted on the snow and didn''t move. After a while, he felt his whole body shivering. Helplessly, Stephen had no choice but to take out a blanket and warm himself against the white horse''s belly.


    Shivering like this for a while, it finally became completely dark. Stephen held his breath and waited a little longer, until the lights in those dilapidated houses were all turned off, and then he slowly stood up.


    After slightly moving his body that was about to freeze, he held a long knife in one hand and a revolver in the other, and slowly walked towards the village.


    The snow on the ground was deep, and Stephen was walking with great difficulty. In order to make as little noise as possible, he could only try to lower his body, even to the point of lying completely on the snow and crawling.


    Those people seemed to be resting, and there was only a skinny black guy squatting in front of a bonfire on watch.


    This guy was holding a bottle of wine and taking sips from time to time, drinking himself drunk.


    Stephen quietly came to a small tree not far behind him, grabbed a pile of snow on the ground, and threw it towards another small tree.


    The snow hit the treetop, knocking down a pile of accumulated snow, making a lot of noise, and the guy heard the noise. Sure enough, he slowly walked towards the small tree.


    When this kid passed by Stephen, he quickly jumped up from the ground, grabbed his throat with one hand, and held the hilt of the long knife with the other hand, and slammed it against the back of the guy''s head.


    Under such a heavy blow, the kid was directly knocked unconscious. Stephen quickly caught his body and slowly placed him on the snow.


    This guy looked quite young. Stephen originally wanted to finish him off directly. But then he thought, if these people were really good people, then wouldn''t that be terrible?


    But he was afraid that this kid would suddenly wake up and get in the way, so he took out a rope, tied the guy up tightly, stuffed his mouth with a strip of cloth, and finally put him behind a small house.


    If these people were really good people, then he would release this guy later. If these people were villains, then this guy would freeze to death here.


    Stephen was not a completely good person, or rather, after wandering around the West for so long, even the most innocent person would become ruthless and black-hearted.

 6 - Mistaken Savior

    With the sentries taken care of, things would be much easier.


    Stephen had observed clearly during the day that four rooms were occupied, with a woman residing in the one furthest to the side. If these people were truly good, then Mrs. Adler should be inside.


    Stephen moved slowly along the corner of the wall towards that room.


    Just as Stephen was about to reach the window, a commotion erupted from behind the house.


    "Come on, your husband''s dead anyway, what''s wrong with spending a night with me?" A sleazy and arrogant voice carried from there. Stephen''s heart leaped upon hearing this, and he hurried to the back of the house.


    A man and a woman were standing behind the house. The man, wearing a black coat and sporting a large belly, reeked of alcohol, clearly having drunk quite a bit.


    And the woman, Stephen recognized instantly, was the very Mrs. Adler he was looking for!


    Stephen was overjoyed. He had found her so quickly; it seemed almost effortless.


    Mrs. Adler looked deeply distressed, seemingly deaf to the man''s words, simply wrapped in a blanket and weeping. Seeing that Mrs. Adler didn''t respond, the man brazenly started getting handsy!


    Stephen couldn''t stand it any longer. It seemed these people were no good. If that was the case, then he would act directly.


    He surveyed the surroundings. The area was open, and just a few steps up the hill was the horse tether. He just had to quickly deal with this guy to get Mrs. Adler out of here.


    Stephen took a deep breath and charged out, drawing his knife.


    The distance between them wasn''t far. Stephen''s charge was quick and fierce. The man was clearly unprepared for Stephen''s sudden appearance, his rat-like eyes widening in surprise.


    Just as Stephen reached him, the man frantically reached for his waist, intending to draw his sidearm.


    Stephen naturally wouldn''t give him the chance.


    He first reached out with his left hand and pinned down the man''s drawing hand, pushing the half-drawn revolver back into its holster.


    Then, he reversed his grip on the long knife and used the hilt to strike the man''s chin from below, stifling the shout that was about to escape his lips.


    Several teeth flew through the air. Stephen''s blow was powerful and heavy, knocking out a mouthful of teeth.


    Then, he swiftly shifted position, slipping behind him, covering his mouth from behind, and drawing the long knife across his neck, promptly cutting open his throat.


    *Whoosh*


    Just as Stephen was about to strike, the sound of something cutting through the air came from afar. Stephen instinctively grabbed the man in front of him and used him as a shield.


    The man finally let out a cry of agony. Stephen looked down to see a black arrow firmly embedded in his shoulder.


    Stephen broke out in a cold sweat. Had he not reacted quickly, that shot would have been the end of him.


    *Whoosh*


    Another arrow came, this time aimed directly at his head.


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    Stephen kicked the man away, then deflected the arrow with his knife, running towards the archer.


    "Mrs. Adler, it''s Stephen! I''m here to save you, run while I cover you!"


    As he passed Mrs. Adler, he urgently shouted, telling her to run.


    Mrs. Adler stared blankly at Stephen''s back, seemingly not having fully processed what was happening.


    Now that he had been discovered, there was no need to hide.


    Stephen drew his revolver in his left hand and immediately opened fire, sending two bullets towards the black fat man who had shot the arrows. The man seemed somewhat fat, but his movements were also quick, directly rolling towards his side and dodging these two shots.


    "Damn, it''s a racial gift of camouflage."


    Stephen couldn''t help but curse upon seeing this. The guy was too dark, and he couldn''t see people at all on such a night. Stephen had completely fired the two shots blindly, and naturally couldn''t hit them.


    Fortunately, he still had a knife. In the split second that the guy was dodging, Stephen had already rushed to his side.


    With a long knife raised high in his hand, he chopped down at this guy''s head and face.


    This guy was still squatting on the ground. Seeing the long knife hacking over, he hurriedly drew the dagger from his waist, held the dagger in both hands, and actually took the powerful knife head-on.


    But Stephen could tell that he didn''t feel good either. With this knife, he directly knelt on one knee, and the knife almost chopped his shoulder. Stephen had no intention of fighting him like this, and directly pulled out the knife, turned around, and took another knife.


    The man gritted his teeth and stubbornly took Stephen''s three knives in a row with the long knife in his hand. Seeing this, Stephen was also shocked in his heart. He had really never seen anyone who could take his three knives in the two years he had been here.


    Stephen leaned his body backwards and raised his feet to kick this guy''s stomach directly, kicking the black fat man out. Then, with the reaction force, the whole person rolled backwards on the ground, then stood up and ran directly towards other houses.


    There was no time to entangle with him, he had to buy time for Mrs. Adler to evacuate.


    When he passed the pile of bonfire just now, he directly grabbed a burning firewood from it and threw it towards other houses.


    He wanted to create as much chaos as possible.


    Two people rushed out of the house. Stephen directly stepped forward and kicked one of them over, and then punched a fat man holding a gun to death.


    Just as he was about to add a knife to kill these guys, a strong palpitation came. He hurriedly rolled and dodged, only to hear a sound. No, several gunshots came, and a man standing opposite was aiming at him with a revolver.


    This guy fired too fast! Stephen looked back and saw three bullet holes neatly arranged on the wall behind the place where he had just stood. The bullet holes were in a straight line, only a few centimeters apart. It could be seen that this person had a strong control over the pistol in his hand.


    "Boy, you better not move, or you won''t be so lucky with the next shot." The man shook the revolver in his hand and said with a hint of provocative smile, "Oh, really?" Stephen replied, while observing the man. This guy was wearing a blue coat, wearing a black cowboy hat, and the revolver in his hand was also a very ordinary cowboy revolver. It looked unremarkable.


    When did so many people appear near here? Stephen thought silently in his heart, the person with this kind of marksmanship could not be an unknown person.


    "Boy, do you want to try, you were just lucky just now, next time..." The man looked at Stephen holding a knife and threatened.


    Before he finished speaking, Stephen jumped directly and rushed towards the man directly, and the pistol in his hand fired at the same time.


    Stephen knew that to deal with such a person, he couldn''t give him a chance to shoot, only to strike first!


    Stephen didn''t just fire these two shots casually, but fired them to the left and right of this person.


    Such a sharpshooter can know where your bullet is fired by just the subtle position changes of your muzzle. The person on the opposite side naturally knew it. So he didn''t dodge at all, but shot directly.


    What Stephen wanted was for him not to dodge!!


    If he dodged, who would Stephen cut with this knife!


    A hot bullet directly hit Stephen''s left arm, and blood spurted out immediately. Stephen bit his teeth and took this shot, but the long knife in his hand did not shake at all, and cut straight towards this guy''s neck.


    The guy on the opposite side also obviously noticed this, and hurriedly raised his left hand and wanted to sacrifice his left hand to save his life. But how could Stephen let him run away with this knife that exchanged injury for life?


    The blade reached his arm one step ahead of his arm, and seeing that this guy was about to die.


    "Stephen, stop!!"


    Suddenly, a hoarse female voice reached Stephen''s ears.


    Hearing this familiar voice, Stephen subconsciously stopped the knife in his hand, and the tip of the knife stopped on this guy''s neck.


    A small cut appeared on his neck, and a drop of blood slowly flowed down.


    As long as Stephen''s long knife goes down a little bit more, this guy''s neck will have a big opening.


    The person who shouted was naturally Mrs. Adler, she hurriedly ran over and grabbed Stephen''s hand: "You''re mistaken, they saved me, they''re not enemies!!"

 7 - First Impressions

    "So, the O''Driscoll gang killed Mr. Yake? And these people saved you."


    In the dilapidated cabin, Stephen sat by the campfire, looking at Mrs. Adler, who was helping him bandage his wounds, and said somewhat awkwardly, "So, last night''s fight was all for nothing."


    Mrs. Sadie, who was beside him, shook her head helplessly, "You were too impulsive."


    "Ahem, won''t happen next time." Stephen coughed twice to cover up his embarrassment, then quickly changed the subject, "So Mrs. Sadie, what are you planning to do next? Continue to stay in this...Van der Linde gang?"


    "Call me Sadie, Adler is dead." Mrs. Adler, no, now it''s Sadie.


    She said through gritted teeth, "These people saved me, I can''t just leave, and they have a score to settle with those O''Driscoll scum..."


    Stephen nodded, "I understand."


    Since these people also have a feud with the O''Driscoll gang, then they can cooperate. The enemy of my enemy is my friend!


    "Alright, you just need to rest well for a few days." Sadie cut off the excess gauze and bandaged Stephen''s arm.


    She said sadly, "But with your body, you should recover quickly. I still remember when Yake and I rescued you, you were covered in wounds. We all thought you wouldn''t make it. I didn''t expect..."


    Sadie was naturally referring to when Stephen had just crossed over. At that time, he had four gunshot wounds alone, and countless injuries from being battered and bruised in the wild. As a result, this kid recovered in just one month.


    Stephen didn''t know why either, and just thought of it as a perk of being a transmigrator.


    In the two years of struggling outside, he also learned to take advantage of his strengths, which was a fighting style that traded injuries for lives. Most people really can''t learn or even think of it.


    "I''m sorry, I was late, Sadie, I should have come sooner." Stephen said dejectedly, "I wasted so much time in the mountains for nothing."


    "It''s not your fault, it''s not your fault." Sadie patted Stephen on the shoulder, "You don''t need to blame yourself, it''s what those O''Driscoll scum did."


    Just as the two were talking, two women walked in with a child.


    One of the young girls shouted as soon as she saw Stephen, "Wow, you''re the one who beat Arthur and the others down? And knocked out a mouthful of teeth from that Micah guy? I really can''t tell!"


    This girl had golden hair and looked very, well, buxom. She directly approached Stephen, seemingly wanting to see what kind of person could accomplish such great feats.


    "Uh, I''ll take that as a compliment." Stephen looked at the woman so close to him and leaned back a little, "As for hurting that guy, I''m sorry."


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    "I''m Karen, nice to meet you." The woman named Karen stretched out a hand to Stephen and said in a forthright manner, "You don''t need to feel sorry, a lot of us hate Micah, that guy''s mouth is a cesspool, it''s about time someone shut him up."


    "I''m Stephen, Stephen Johnson." Stephen shook her hand amicably.


    When shaking hands, he clearly felt that this woman named Karen had a lot of calluses on her hands. Judging from the position, this sturdy woman was also a gunslinger.


    But that''s normal, who doesn''t have a few tricks up their sleeve in this day and age.


    "I''m Abigail, and this is my son, Jack." The other woman looked like a standard mother and smiled friendly at Stephen.


    "Um, although it may be a bit presumptuous to say so, but, could you please step outside for a moment? We have some women''s business to discuss." Abigail smiled apologetically at Stephen.


    "Ah, no problem, I''ll take a walk outside." After saying goodbye to the ladies, Stephen walked straight out.


    It was already bright, but the heavy snow was still falling. The gloomy sky seemed to be pressing down to crush everything on the ground, and the large clumps of snow hitting his face stung.


    Stephen pushed open the door, and the white horse was tied to the doorway, staring at Stephen with its big eyes.


    This guy was used to the freezing weather and didn''t feel cold at all. On the contrary, he looked very energetic.


    Stephen stepped forward, took out a horse brush, and brushed its fur to remove the ice and snow on its body. The horse whined comfortably.


    While brushing the horse, Stephen''s mind was flashing with the scene from last night. Thinking back now, last night was really thrilling.


    Speaking of which, this small gang is really full of hidden talents.


    Not only was there a fat black man who could take three of his knife attacks head-on, but there was also a gunslinger who could force him to trade injuries for lives. Even the guy who teased Sadie at the beginning, just based on the speed and reaction of drawing his gun, was not someone that ordinary people could compare to.


    Last night, he seemed to be rampaging, but he was just taking advantage of a sneak attack. If he really fought them head-on, he wouldn''t be a match.


    Indeed, this world is full of people more skilled than himself. This year of smooth sailing had made him a little too arrogant.


    Stephen was reflecting on himself when he heard a sound approaching from behind.


    He turned around and saw that it was the gunslinger from last night.


    "Comin'' out for a smoke?"


    This guy had a cigarette in his mouth and a light in his hand. He was planning to come out and enjoy himself. Seeing Stephen brushing the horse, he walked over to talk.


    "Who would say no?" Stephen didn''t stand on ceremony. He directly took the cigarette, lit it with the match in the other man''s hand, and took a satisfying puff.


    "I''m Arthur Morgan, and you?" The man looked at the composed Stephen and asked curiously.


    "Stephen Johnson, a bounty hunter." Stephen said without hesitation, "You''re very skilled. I''ve never seen anyone with such good marksmanship as you."


    This wasn''t a compliment, but rather Arthur''s marksmanship had left a deep impression on Stephen last night.


    He had only seen someone who could control an ordinary cowboy revolver so well in novels in his previous life.


    Arthur lowered his head and smiled, exhaling a puff of smoke, "You too, I''ve never seen someone who can catch our whole gang off guard alone."


    The two looked up at each other at the same time. The atmosphere suddenly fell silent. After a long time, the two burst into laughter at the same time, attracting the curious gaze of the white horse.


    "Haha, this is interesting. By the way, that guy from last night should be okay, right? The one called Micah, I think?" Stephen asked with a smile.


    "That poor guy who got his teeth knocked out? Don''t mind him. No one likes that foul-mouthed guy. He needed to be taught a lesson." Arthur waved his hand and said nonchalantly.


    Looks like Karen was right. That guy really is the kind that everyone hates...


    Stephen shrugged. He was really curious how bad this guy''s character had to be to make the people in the same gang hate him so much.

 8 - Vendetta Ride

    Arthur was a decent fellow.


    Perhaps it was the mutual respect between experts, or maybe it was because Stephen had thoroughly taught that Micah a lesson, but the two hearty men quickly became acquainted.


    "Maybe when the weather gets better, we should head down the mountain and find a saloon to have a good drink," Stephen said, an arm slung around Arthur''s shoulders, the two of them looking like old friends.


    "Sure, but it''s on you. That knife of yours last night was something else; my neck still hurts," Arthur replied, a bandage wrapped around his neck, with a hint of red seeping through.


    "You weren''t bad yourself, taking a chunk out of my arm with a single shot," Stephen said, holding up his arm. Both men burst into hearty laughter again.


    The friendship of men could sometimes be this simple.


    Just as their conversation gradually shifted from who was more formidable to slightly more risqu¨¦ topics, the sound of what seemed like an argument came from a nearby cabin.


    Curious, they looked over, and just as they reached the door, a man in a black coat and red undershirt, along with several others, stormed out in a rage.


    As he walked, he cursed at the men behind him, "All you two damned fools know how to beat up your own, when it¡¯s Colm O''Driscoll who deserves it. You think we can just sit here and wait for him to find us? We have important business to take care of, let''s move out!"


    No sooner had he spoken than he spotted Arthur, shoulder to shoulder with Stephen. He addressed Arthur directly, "We have to find Colm and take care of this scum."


    "Are you sure, Dutch? At a time like this? Everyone''s exhausted; we need to find a place for everyone to settle down first," Arthur said, looking at the imposing Dutch, without explaining to Stephen, he shouted with some concern.


    "But he''s coming for us; we all know that. I don''t want to get ambushed in the wilderness," Dutch said firmly, grabbing Arthur''s shoulder, questioning in a low voice: "Are you doubting me, Arthur? You don''t trust me anymore?"


    Arthur hurriedly explained that he trusted Dutch, of course. It could be said that no one present trusted Dutch more than he did.


    But precisely at this moment, he didn''t think it was a good opportunity: "You said revenge is a luxury we can''t afford..."


    "But this is a good opportunity, a once-in-a-lifetime chance. And it''s not just revenge; it''s a business deal. They''re planning a train robbery, and I''m very interested in that plan."


    Dutch grabbed his lever-action rifle and tossed it to Arthur: "You might not mind eking out a living stepping in horse piss and dog shit, but I''m getting old, Arthur."


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    "So, you guys are planning to go after the O''Driscoll gang?" Stephen asked, listening with confusion, but quickly grasping the important point.


    "That''s right, kid. If you''re willing, you can come along with us. After all, you beat one of our guys so badly he''s laid up in bed," Dutch said, looking at the gloomy-faced Stephen: "I think you''d be very willing to settle the score with that Colm bastard."


    A night had passed, and Dutch naturally knew everything. So he was very interested in this strong young man who had a grudge against Colm.


    "Of course, with pleasure," Stephen said, taking the reins of his white horse, appearing eager to get started.


    Arthur looked at the situation and knew that he couldn''t stop it, so he sighed and mounted his horse.


    "Mr. Mathews, Mr. Smith, Mr. Pearson, you stay here, Colm''s men are nearby. The rest of you, follow me! Giddy up!!"


    Dutch loudly ordered his men, and with his command, the white horse beneath him instantly bolted forward.


    It was worth mentioning that the horse under him was also a white steed, seemingly on par with Stephen''s.


    Besides Arthur and Stephen, three other people followed.


    Dutch and Arthur were arguing incessantly in front, and Stephen wasn''t interested in listening. He only cared about Colm and the O''Driscoll gang''s heads.


    "Hey, you tied me up in the snow last night, nearly froze me to death. A-choo--"


    A young black man rode up beside Stephen, sneezing as he said with some admiration, "I saw what that Micah guy looked like; I have to say, you did a good job. Of course, it would have been better if you''d let me go sooner."


    This young man was named Lenny; they had met last night.


    Last night, Stephen was stopped by Mrs. Sadie, and then the gang surrounded them. After a lot of explanation, everyone finally understood what had happened.


    As a result, it wasn''t until almost dawn that everyone realized they were missing someone. Stephen then remembered that there was one unlucky guy still tied up behind the cabin.


    "Man, I''m really sorry. After we get down the mountain, I''ll buy you a drink. You can drink as much as you want; it''s on me," Stephen said apologetically.


    Regardless, the guy had saved Mrs. Sadie, and he had left him out in the snow all night. He really felt bad for the kid.


    At this moment, a fat man came forward and said, "You knocked me out with one punch last night; I think you should buy me a drink too."


    This guy was named Bill; he had just rushed out with a gun last night when Stephen, who was passing by, knocked him out with a single punch.


    "Don''t worry, there''s enough for everyone. I''ll buy you all enough to drink," Stephen said generously, causing the two guys to cheer, saying that the beating was worth it.


    Stephen looked at these two simple guys and couldn''t help but shake his head.


    This was a gang that seemed atypical but was actually very typical.


    It seemed atypical because the gang''s leader, Dutch, seemed to be a man with ideals. He took in women and was willing to help people, and he also seemed to be somewhat cultured.


    It seemed typical, however, because the gang was filled with the shadow of fist-based supremacy.


    Arthur was very powerful, second only to Dutch in the gang. Mrs. Sadie said that Micah, who he had crippled last night, was able to stay safely in the gang despite so many people''s disgust because Dutch valued his marksmanship.


    And from the looks of it, everyone had no reaction to him attacking Micah, which was not normal at all. So there was only one possibility: this guy was just too disgusting.


    "Hello, I''m Javier. Nice to meet you," the last person also came up to greet Stephen.


    A small mustache and long hair made this guy look refined and somewhat artistic.


    "I have to say, you did a good job last night," he said, smiling at Stephen, then whispered.


    Okay, another Micah hater...

 9 - Friends

    A group of six galloped across the snow-covered ground for the better part of the morning before reaching a small hilltop.


    Arthur and Dutch reined in their horses at the crest, surveying the scene below through binoculars.


    As Stephen and the other three arrived, he lowered the binoculars and turned to address the group. "That son of a bitch is down there. We need to move fast. I just saw him look like he was about to bolt."


    "Let''s go then." Stephen dismounted, Springfield Rifle in hand. "Want me to take the lead?"


    "No need. We haven''t gotten to the point where we need an outsider to lead the charge."


    Dutch said bluntly, "Javier, Lenny, you two stay here and make sure no one escapes. Bill, take our friend Mr. Johnson down that path. As soon as we engage, you two follow."


    Dutch began issuing orders, leaving Stephen to shrug in response.


    Bill, the large man, led Stephen clumsily down a narrow trail.


    "If you ask me, those O''Driscoll gang bastards deserve to die," Bill growled to Stephen as they walked.


    "What''s the beef? Got a history with them?" Stephen asked curiously.


    "Of course. We''ve been fighting each other for years," Bill whispered. "Enough chatter, we''re almost there."


    The two cautiously descended the hill, taking cover beside a cowshed.


    There were plenty of men inside, at least twenty.


    Perhaps due to their numbers, or simply out of habit, the men were drinking, sleeping, and generally lacking any semblance of vigilance. They were completely unaware of the new additions to their camp.


    Stephen was itching for action, dreaming of a stealthy assassination spree.


    But with Dutch and Arthur yet to arrive, the two had to wait impatiently.


    Thankfully, the wait wasn''t long. Soon, the two men approached cautiously, guns drawn.


    "Alright, let''s get to work and send these sons of bitches to hell." Dutch, observing the unsuspecting O''Driscolls, raised his twin revolvers and opened fire.


    "Bang! Bang!"


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    The sharp reports shattered the silence. Two men sharing a drink fell face-first, each sporting a fresh bullet hole in their head.


    The camp erupted in chaos. Shouts of alarm, cries for help, and even some whimpering for their mothers filled the air in a cacophony.


    Their quality is really low. Stephen scowled at the gang.


    Stephen can''t understand Colm that he recruit these useless people into the gang except for looking like a big gang. No wonder Van der Linde gang fight them for so many years with limited members.


    With Dutch''s opening shots, the others joined in. Stephen raised his Springfield Rifle, dropping the lookout atop a rickety water tower with a single shot.


    One down. He quickly worked the lever to chamber another round. The rifle packed a punch and had a long range, but it had a single bullet in the chamber.


    But Stephen can''t effort to buy a better gun, so he has to use it.


    If last night had been a sneak attack, with the full extent of the Van der Linde gang''s skills unseen, now Stephen witnessed their true capabilities.


    Arthur, the crack shot, wielded his twin revolvers like the Grim Reaper himself, hitting whatever he pointed at.


    Even Lenny, Javier, and the seemingly dimwitted Bill beside Stephen proved to be capable fighters. Their marksmanship was impressive, and they had decent tactical awareness. Compared to the O''Driscoll gang, it was like a fight between pro and amateur.


    Even more surprising was Dutch, the Van der Linde gang''s leader, who wielded a revolver as skillfully as Arthur!


    The two moved like harvesters, taking out nearly half the camp themselves!


    Stephen had just felled his fourth target when the fighting ended. He felt a pang of disappointment.


    "I underestimated you guys last night. You''re really strong," Stephen said to Arthur with genuine respect.


    Arthur''s hands moved like a blur as he reloaded his two complicated-to-reload revolvers with ease.


    He held up the guns, a cigarette dangling from his lips, conveying a "this is nothing" expression.


    "These guys are just lowlifes. They might not even be Colm''s core strength," Stephen said, surveying the bodies.


    "Don''t overthink it. Colm only cares about quantity, not quality. To be one of his henchman, you just need to be able to ride a horse, shoot a gun, and kill without blinking." Dutch said with contempt.


    As they spoke, gunfire erupted from the woods, sending everyone scrambling for cover.


    "More men are coming out of the woods!" Javier shouted.


    A group of armed men burst from the trees. They were clearly more O''Driscoll gang members.


    "Arthur, do we charge or wait for them here? Your call," Dutch said casually, seemingly unfazed by the newcomers.


    Before Arthur could answer, Stephen tossed his Springfield Rifle to Arthur, drew his pistol and knife: "I''ll go."


    The words had barely left Stephen''s mouth when Dutch and the others saw a black shadow dash past. By the time they reacted, Stephen was already far ahead.


    Stephen wasn''t just showing off. He had his own motives.


    Like he thought, this is a typical gang that the strong has the power.


    Although Stephen had the upper hand last night, it was still a sneak attack. Therefore, Stephen needed to display his skills and impress these guys.


    Although Stephen didn''t intend to join the gang, they were his only chance for revenge. Cooperating with Dutch and Arthur was inevitable.


    And Sadie had nowhere else to go. Besides, he himself was still homeless.


    So he needed to show off his skills to gain an advantage in their cooperation. Only then could he secure more influence.


    Stephen knew his limits. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn''t match Arthur and Dutch''s marksmanship. At best, he''d be on par with Bill and Javier. So he''d use his own strengths to win the battle.


    The dense, rugged forest was the perfect place to shine!

 10 - Blood Dance

    Stephen charged ahead, taking the lead.


    The terrain was complex and rarely visited, perhaps untouched for centuries. The trees were enormous, their trunks thick as a man''s embrace, providing Stephen with excellent cover.


    Stephen''s blatant advance naturally drew the attention of the O''Driscoll gang members, who raised their guns and fired at him.


    But these men were terrible shots, worse than many roaming bandits. Dutch was right ¨C all they could do was pull the trigger, and that was about it.


    As Stephen moved swiftly, bullets struck the earth around him and chipped away at the tree trunks.


    However, Stephen remained calm, using the undulating terrain and thick trees to shield himself.


    Despite the seemingly intense barrage, not a single bullet hit him. He advanced almost unhindered into their midst.


    Looking at the men before him, Stephen was suddenly reminded of Mr. Yake''s gruesome death, and his anger surged.


    These O''Driscoll boys deserved to die!


    He quickly pulled the trigger of the Schofield Revolver in his left hand, killing one of the men trying to shoot him with two quick shots.


    Then, raising the long knife in his right hand, he didn''t even need to exert much force. The momentum of his advance was enough to draw the blade precisely across the neck of an unlucky thug.


    As blood spurted from the man''s neck, he frantically tried to staunch the flow with his hands. But he couldn''t stop the gushing wound, and he soon collapsed to the ground.


    Stephen killed two men in quick succession, his speed showing no sign of slowing down.


    He moved like a specter through the midst of three more gang members.


    First, a slash across the stomach. Guts spilling out.


    Second, Stephen flicked the long knife, sending it like a white lightning bolt through the air to pierce the man''s forehead.


    Third, as Stephen ran past the second man, he grabbed the long knife, pulled it free, and with a reverse grip, used the momentum of his charge and his own strength to draw the sharp blade across the man''s neck.


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    The man''s head rolled to the ground after Stephen had passed.


    Decapitated in one stroke!


    Stephen''s violence and power shocked everyone present.


    This was reality, not a game. These men wouldn''t stand by and watch their comrades being slaughtered while trading gunfire like they were in a saloon brawl.


    The O''Driscoll gang members were stunned by how easily the men in front of them were being killed.


    They could understand being shot by a sharpshooter, everyone knew what a good gunslinger can do, but they couldn''t comprehend Stephen, charging in with a knife.


    They couldn''t hit him with their bullets, and he could kill them with a single stroke. Their limited imaginations couldn''t grasp what was happening.


    When they saw an enemy they couldn''t defeat, they made a simple choice.


    They were afraid, started crying and ran away.


    The remaining four or five O''Driscoll gang members dropped their weapons and ran back, crying and yelling, without even turning to fire a shot to slow Stephen down.


    The O''Driscoll gang was not the only one who was stunned. Arthur and the others watching from behind were equally shocked.


    "This guy... I''m starting to feel lucky we didn''t die last night," Lenny said, his eyes wide and his mouth agape.


    "He''s a scary guy alright. If someone like that was after us, we''d be in big trouble." Javier shuddered at the sight of Stephen''s slaughter.


    Good thing this guy wasn''t their enemy.


    Stephen had no intention of letting the fleeing men escape. He hated these O''Driscolls with a passion.


    With a quick flick, he plunged his long knife into the ground at his feet, picked up one of the lever-action rifles abandoned by the gang members, and began to pick off the fleeing fools one by one.


    His marksmanship was not poor, but it was not as good as the Van der Linde gang''s gunslingers.


    On the contrary, he knew how to hit moving targets.


    And he was good at it.


    As shots rang out, the fleeing bandits fell one after another. When Stephen ran out of bullets, none of the men remained.


    "Bunch of trash," Stephen spat at the corpses before throwing away the empty rifle, grabbing his long knife, and walking back.


    "Clap, clap, clap!"


    The five members of the Van der Linde gang were waiting for him outside. Dutch stood in the center, applauding.


    "Magnificent! This is the first time I''ve seen such skill," Dutch said, praising Stephen without reservation. "You''re like a legendary god of war."


    "Just a little trick, nothing to mention," Stephen said, carrying his blood-stained long knife and standing opposite them.


    He appeared humble, but his tone was arrogant.


    "While you were performing your magic, we had them search the camp. This is information about Colm''s train robbery. Would you be interested in joining us for a score?" Dutch asked, holding a map in front of Stephen.


    Stephen knew he had achieved his goal.


    He didn''t look at the map. He had been in this era for two years, killing a lot of people and getting his hands dirty.


    He could work as a bounty hunter and go after criminals, killing the evil people. But he couldn''t bring himself to rob innocent people just for money.


    "You can handle that. I won''t be participating. My only target is Colm and his O''Driscoll gang," Stephen said bluntly.


    Dutch didn''t get angry at Stephen''s rejection. Instead, he smiled.


    He didn''t care about the blood on Stephen and extended his hand towards Stephen, "Trust me, I think we''ll cooperate very well when it comes to dealing with Colm."


    Stephen reached out and shook Dutch''s hand firmly.


    "Of course, I have no doubt about that."

 11 - A Bountiful Harvest

    There''s an old saying: robbery is one of the quickest routes to riches.


    Stephen finally gained a profound understanding of this saying today.


    Before this mission, the gang was short on food and clothing, at least that''s how it seemed to Stephen.


    But this double-cross journey made the Van der Linde gang instantly wealthy.


    Colm not only handed over his meticulously prepared plan, but also left behind a huge camp and all sorts of supplies for them.


    The group ransacked the village, and the collected supplies piled up into a small hill in the middle of the village.


    Dutch was thrilled at the sight of these supplies. It could be said that these supplies successfully helped the struggling gang get back on its feet.


    Although Stephen wasn''t a member of the gang, he had contributed a lot.


    So Dutch generously waved his hand at Stephen, telling him to take whatever he liked, without holding back.


    Stephen wasn''t greedy. He only took an almost brand-new lever-action rifle and a nice silver pocket watch, plus some food and ammunition.


    As for the other money and jewelry, he wasn''t interested in taking any of it.


    It wasn''t that he really looked down on it, but the O''Driscoll gang members were as poor as ghosts, and those so-called jewels were probably fake anyway.


    He only found a few dozen dollars in cash. Although he wasn''t rich, he really didn''t care about such a small amount of money.


    But Dutch wasn''t happy that Stephen didn''t want it.


    He directly grabbed the scattered dollars and jewelry and stuffed them all into Stephen''s arms, his generosity surprising Stephen.


    Seeing Dutch''s insistence, Stephen had no choice but to accept it all.


    Skipping this little interlude, the group loaded the supplies onto their horses. With Dutch''s order, they leisurely rode back.


    On the way back, except for Dutch, who was still walking behind with Arthur, muttering about something, the other three surrounded Stephen.


    Stephen showed off his skills, not only defeating the O''Driscoll gang, but also making everyone admire him, and they were also full of curiosity about his abilities.


    The older ones were okay, still knowing how to be reserved. But the young man named Lenny couldn''t hold back and rode his horse alongside Stephen, asking questions non-stop.


    Stephen didn''t find him annoying and patiently explained things to him.


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    Dutch walked behind, watching Stephen chatting happily with Lenny and the others, and a smile appeared on his face.


    "You seem to like this young man." Arthur, who was beside him, asked curiously, looking at Dutch''s expression.


    "Of course." Dutch didn''t deny it, saying, "Don''t you think you''re a lot like him?"


    Dutch turned to look at Arthur and said, word by word, "Like you, he is powerful and full of vitality."


    Arthur looked at Stephen''s back, thoughtfully nodding, "You want to recruit him into the gang? That''s a good idea. Should I talk to him?"


    "No hurry, we have plenty of time anyway." Dutch shook his head, "I still need to see what kind of person he is, to see if he fits our gang."


    "Good heavens, when did we have such rules?" Arthur said with a hint of sarcasm, "No wonder we were able to recruit talents like Micah."


    "No, that''s different." Dutch waved his hand, patiently explaining to Arthur, "Although people like Micah are ugly, they are easy to understand. You can see right through them. I know what he wants, and I can control him."


    He looked at Stephen and said slowly, "But this guy is powerful and mysterious. So I need more time to observe him, until I can confirm that he won''t turn around and harm us."


    After Dutch finished speaking, he urged his horse to the front of the group and said loudly to everyone, "I am proud of you. We fought a perfect battle. Not one of us fell, not even injured."


    Hearing Dutch''s words, everyone except Stephen cheered loudly.


    Indeed, such a record was worth cheering for.


    "Although our situation is not good right now, hungry and cold, you have done a great job." Dutch continued loudly, "They will continue to attack us with all their strength, but we will always rally. That''s who we are, that''s what outlaws do."


    "Now, we''re just waiting for our partners, John, Sean, Mac, Charles, even Micah, waiting for them to recover from their injuries and ride with us. I know they''ll all come back."


    When he said this, Dutch''s tone was low, as if he was mourning the dead.


    Stephen looked at Dutch and suddenly became very curious about him.


    Currently, this guy is good with guns, has ideas, and, most importantly, has a damn good eloquence.


    This is rare among cowboys whose average education is prenatal education.


    The words just now were obviously improvised, but coming out of his mouth, combined with his ups and downs tone and steady but slightly hoarse voice, they were very touching.


    Stephen knew from the excited looks of Lenny and Bill that they were eating it up.


    But Stephen didn''t buy into it. What hadn''t he seen in his previous life? Dutch was just a small fry.


    "Although we didn''t catch Colm, we stole his plan, which will hurt him more than killing him." Arthur said with a smile.


    The rich harvest of this operation made Arthur, who was initially opposed to it, happy.


    "Especially when we''re going to rob that train." Dutch said with a smile on his face.


    "That will make that guy come after us." Arthur still seemed a little worried.


    "Hey, even if we don''t rob that train, won''t Colm come after us?" Dutch immediately retorted.


    Arthur shook his head. He understood that they had an irreconcilable feud with Colm.


    "So it''s simple. We just act before they find us and leave quickly, just like those stupid Pinkertons and cops." Dutch said confidently, as if everything was under his control.


    Stephen didn''t know where his confidence came from. But seeing the trusting looks on everyone''s faces, he understood a little.


    Thus, amidst Dutch''s occasional speeches and Lenny''s jokes, the group slowly set out on the road back.


    As they approached a small stream, a figure suddenly appeared ahead.


    Dutch was at the front, and he recognized the man at a glance as someone he had seen before.


    He slapped his head and immediately remembered that the man was a member of the O''Driscoll gang. He had seen him talking to Colm through his binoculars!


    "Arthur, that guy is one of Colm''s men. Go grab him and bring him back." Dutch immediately ordered his most capable subordinate.


    Arthur immediately spurred his horse and charged towards the man.


    The guy, seeing Arthur charging towards him, was so frightened that he immediately jumped on his horse and ran haphazardly upstream.


    "Okay, let''s go back first. Arthur will bring that guy back."


    Dutch was full of confidence in Arthur.

 12 - Knifes Edge

    The continuous howling wind and snow finally showed signs of stopping, with only sparse snowflakes drifting aimlessly in the sky.


    But as the saying goes, a cold snap follows frost and snow. The cessation of heavy snow did not warm the weather; instead, it became even colder.


    Several horses huddled in the drafty stable, abandoning their long-held habit of sleeping while standing. They buried themselves completely in the haystacks prepared for them, trying to minimize heat loss.


    Only Stephen''s white horse remained spirited.


    The horse was bored in the stable, occasionally letting out a whinny or two, as if hoping Stephen would take it out for a ride soon.


    But Stephen was still lazily lying in his blanket, unwilling to get up, clinging tightly to the fire.


    In such weather, even the most diligent person would be unwilling to work, and he, as a bounty hunter, was no different.


    The heavy snow had buried the nearby roads, making it impossible to descend the mountain for now.


    And the O''Driscoll gang had disappeared, so he simply stayed with the others in Shady Belle to rest, planning to deal with things after spring arrived.


    He lazed around until almost noon before reluctantly rising from the warm blanket, intending to find a place to relieve himself.


    After all, if he didn''t get up soon, his bladder would burst.


    As soon as he opened the door, a gust of cold wind enveloped him from all directions, desperately trying to penetrate every bone in his body.


    Stephen couldn''t help but shiver. This damn weather was killing him, he muttered.


    He didn''t run far, just found a spot behind the house, shivered again, and completed the first task of the day.


    Now that he was up, he didn''t plan to go back to sleep. Stephen decided to find something to eat to reward his stomach.


    He tugged hard at his coat, wrapping himself even tighter, and then walked step by step toward Pearson''s kitchen.


    Pearson was the fat man Stephen had seen cooking in the telescope earlier. He was the Van der Linde gang''s cook.


    However, the taste of his cooking was truly hard to describe.


    When he and Arthur and the others had just returned from fighting the O''Driscoll gang, he had used the abundant supplies they had captured to cook a celebratory feast for everyone.


    Suffice it to say, Stephen felt he could have done better cooking with his feet.


    He sauntered over to Pearson''s kitchen.


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    The place, though called a kitchen, was actually quite crude.


    It was simply a wooden shed built along the side of a dilapidated house. Underneath, in the middle, a stone square was built and a fire was lit, which served as a stove.


    Two pots were hanging above the stove, simmering meat inside.


    Stephen glanced at the messy things inside and the strange smell emanating from it, and immediately lost his appetite.


    Pearson saw Stephen walk in and, regardless of how familiar he was with Stephen, babbled, "Arthur and Charles hunted two deer this morning. We finally have someone who can hunt prey. Bill and Lenny are two fools who can''t hunt anything. They can only catch things that don''t move."


    As he spoke, he took a bag of powder, of unknown origin, from a nearby bag and sprinkled it into the pot, making Stephen''s heart pound.


    Was this guy a cook from a dark sect?


    But his words also reminded Stephen. He turned to look at the wooden shelf behind him, where two cleaned deer were hanging, and there was half a cut deer leg on a cutting board beside them.


    Seeing the plump venison, Stephen felt his stomach rumble uncontrollably.


    He found a few relatively clean small branches in the firewood pile and wiped them a few times in the snow. Then, he pulled out his knife and cut a few slices of meat with snowy white fat from the deer leg.


    Stephen''s knife skills were excellent. The cut meat was as thin as cicada wings, making it the most delicious to eat.


    He found a small pot, put it on the fire, hastily got some clean snow, and used a large bone to make broth.


    He also found a can of vegetables in a nearby basket and dumped it all into the pot.


    The canned soup had a salty taste, which conveniently eliminated the need for salt. And the sliced meat would be used as hot pot soon.


    Pearson''s stew was ready. He asked Stephen if he wanted him to serve him a bowl, but Stephen politely declined. Pearson then prepared to carry the pot to deliver food to the others.


    This bone broth version of hot pot was thoroughly enjoyable. Stephen ate until he was sweating all over.


    Stephen was full and satisfied. He stood up and stretched, just thinking about finding something to do, when he heard a cry for mercy from not far away.


    He followed the sound and saw Bill interrogating the prisoner they had captured two days earlier.


    The poor fellow was tied to a tree, and Bill was holding a red-hot pair of fire tongs, gesturing at his crotch, seemingly planning to give him a long-lost surgical procedure.


    "Haha, why don''t you give it a try? It''s very enjoyable. After it''s done, you''ll be full of energy, never running out, just like those horses in the stable," Bill said with a strange smile on his face, constantly intimidating the guy.


    The guy was sweating all over from fear, emitting heat in this weather, which Stephen found a bit amusing.


    "You can''t do it like that. You have to use other methods to deal with hard bones," Stephen said slowly as he approached the two, playing with his knife as he smiled.


    "Oh, do you have any good ideas?" Bill asked curiously, looking at the knife flying up and down in Stephen''s hand.


    "Of course, it''s very simple." A playful smile appeared on Stephen''s face. He grabbed the knife and lightly slashed the man''s chest, easily cutting open his thin clothes.


    "Please, I really don''t know anything! I''m just a stableman who raises horses!!" the man cried out in fear, tears streaming down his face, his body writhing non-stop.


    "Don''t worry, don''t worry." Stephen pressed the guy down hard, the cold knife against his body, making him shiver involuntarily, his whole body breaking out in goosebumps.


    "I heard that in ancient Orient, there was a kind of torture where a knife was used to slowly cut a person''s body, cutting off only a fingernail-sized piece of flesh at a time," Stephen said softly in his ear, like a devil.


    "A good executioner can cut over 3,000 knives on a prisoner''s body and ensure that the prisoner doesn''t die. Do you know what the prisoner will become in the end?" Stephen asked with a smile.


    "W-w-what will become?" The man''s teeth chattered wildly as he asked tremulously.


    "Will become a skeleton ¨C" Stephen said with a curious smile on his face, "My skills aren''t that good, but one or two thousand knives are still possible. Let''s give it a try."


    "Ahhhhh!! Devil, you are a devil!!"


    "I''ll say anything, I''ll say anything you ask! But... but I really don''t know anything!!"

 13 - Dreams of the Departed

    Stephen, of course, didn''t torture the guy in the end. He wasn''t a demon, after all, was he?


    He could see that this Kieran fellow really didn''t know anything. Just like he said, he was just a stablehand.


    The next week was rather uneventful. Stephen gradually became familiar with everyone in the gang.


    From what he could tell, except for Micah, that universally despised character, the people in this gang were pretty decent. Besides Arthur and a few other gunslingers, there were quite a few other interesting people.


    There was the uncle who was drunk all the time, the rigid German accountant Strauss, the generous housekeeper Ms. Grimshaw, and John, who was always lying in bed recovering from his injuries.


    John was Abigail''s husband and Jack''s father. But he didn''t seem to like the mother and son very much, always acting coldly towards them.


    Stephen didn''t understand what was wrong with this family, and he didn''t want to interfere. After all, even a righteous judge has trouble settling family disputes.


    However, he quite liked the little guy Jack. He was smart, quick-witted, learned things quickly, and always had a smile on his face, which was completely different from his cold-hearted father.


    And then there was the old man named Hosea.


    This wise old man was the second-in-command of the gang, a learned and versatile individual.


    Several conversations with Stephen showed that he was an extraordinary person. He knew the local customs and geography of the surrounding states like the back of his hand, and he always had insightful things to say.


    But he was always talking about retiring, which Stephen found strange.


    Who in a gang talks about retiring? What was even more surprising was that Arthur, the gunslinger, agreed with him.


    As for Dutch, the leader of the gang, although he always said that he would retire after one last big score, Stephen could sense that this guy was actually very restless inside.


    But this didn''t concern Stephen. He was just temporarily cooperating with these people.


    After getting down from the mountains, he had to quickly find a place to settle Mrs. Sadie down, and then find a way to track down the O''Driscoll gang.


    The women in the gang also had their own unique characteristics. Karen was bold and could drink. Her alcohol tolerance was unparalleled in the gang.


    Stephen witnessed her downing a bottle of vodka in one gulp, which was simply amazing.


    What surprised Stephen the most was that this gang, which was constantly fighting and killing, actually had a young, artistic woman: Mary-Beth.


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    This was a beautiful girl who was obsessed with literary novels, always holding a thick book in her hand.


    Lost in the world of novels, she often forgot the tasks Ms. Grimshaw assigned, and she was also the girl Ms. Grimshaw scolded the most.


    Although Stephen wasn''t a top student in his previous life, he had read a lot of strange novels, and he had some knowledge of foreign classics.


    So, it only took him one meal to impress Mary-Beth and become her confidant, constantly asking Stephen for advice on some famous works.


    This also impressed the men in the camp who couldn''t utter a word for three days, and they privately said that this kid was really good at seducing women, and they had to be careful in the future.


    Lenny even secretly carried a small notebook, asking Stephen to teach him some verses to pick up girls in bars in the future.


    Stephen had been single in both his lives, so he didn''t know anything about this. He could only vaguely make up some random things.


    But these two, one dared to teach and the other dared to learn, and they agreed to go to the bar together in town to test their learning results.


    In short, the people in the gang became more and more optimistic day by day.


    In Arthur''s words, everyone gradually felt that the failure in Blackwater was just an accident. After this period of recuperation, they were developing in a good direction.


    Or rather, everyone felt that their luck had returned.


    As for the failure in Blackwater, Stephen asked a few people. But they all avoided talking about it, as if they were hiding something. Stephen didn''t ask any further.


    Everyone has their own secrets, and they can''t tell him everything.


    The weather was getting better day by day. The snow had stopped, and the long-awaited sun was shining on the earth again.


    The traces of animals in the forest had also increased. Lenny and others went out hunting, and they no longer returned empty-handed, always managing to get something.


    The others in the gang stayed in the camp, like bears hibernating in winter, doing nothing but eating and sleeping.


    Stephen''s daily routine was only practicing swordsmanship and shooting alone, or taking his horse out for a ride, and drinking and bragging with Lenny, Bill, and others.


    Oh, right. And Mrs. Sadie.


    This poor woman was still immersed in the nightmare of that night, her husband''s tragic death made it impossible for her to face reality.


    Everyone wanted to comfort her, but except for Abigail and Stephen, who had been taking care of her, everyone else was unresponsive when talking to her.


    Early this morning, Mrs. Sadie was sitting alone on a large rock by the forest, looking extremely haggard.


    Stephen walked to her side, sat on the rock, and asked, "Hey, Mrs. Sadie, what are you looking at?"


    Mrs. Sadie turned her head and looked at him. After a long time, she slowly said, "That''s the direction of my home. But he..."


    "Hey, you have to cheer up." Stephen patted her shoulder, racking his brains to comfort her: "Look at me, my past was also very tragic. If it weren''t for you and Mr. Yake, I might have died long ago. I''m very grateful to you, really. I will avenge Mr. Yake."


    Mrs. Sadie shook her head blankly, and a tear slipped from her eye: "This is not a matter of revenge, but that I will never see him again."


    "I once heard a saying." Stephen looked at the tearful Mrs. Sadie and said slowly: "Some people say that living people are not easy. They have to carry the dreams of their dead companions and strive to fulfill them throughout their lives."


    "Mr. Yake is dead, but his dream is not. You can think about what Mr. Yake''s dream was. Then take that as your goal and work hard to complete it."


    Stephen''s words seemed to have a slight effect on Mrs. Sadie. Her dull eyes suddenly had a glimmer of light, and she kept murmuring, "Dreams, Yake''s dreams..."


    Stephen took out the photo and necklace he found in the ruins from his bag: "I wanted to give it to you before, but your condition has not been good. I think now is the time."


    Mrs. Sadie looked at the photo and necklace in her hand, and finally couldn''t help it, hugging the photo and necklace and wailing, her hoarse voice sounding so heartbreaking.


    Cry, it will be better to cry it out.


    After crying, carry the dreams of the dead and try to live in this absurd world!

 14 - Deception

    Such carefree times were always fleeting.


    That afternoon, Dutch called everyone together, indicating something significant was about to happen.


    Stephen, curious, followed behind the group, not intending to participate, but wanting to see what was going on.


    Hosea stood beside Dutch, arguing heatedly, their opinions clearly clashing. Stephen hadn''t seen Hosea so agitated before.


    "The weather''s improved, we can move out whenever. I thought we were keeping a low profile. I don''t want to see any more deaths, Dutch." Worry etched itself onto his face; he clearly disapproved of his old friend''s plan.


    "We''re alive, Hosea. Look at me, we''re not dead, and neither are you. But to live, we need money. We lost everything in Blackwater. Surely you don''t want to go back there?" Dutch replied, securing his saddle on his horse.


    "Of course not, that''s a death wish. Listen, Dutch, I''m not trying to undermine you, I just want to keep things quiet, avoid trouble, and return to the West. But now we''re planning to rob a train. Leviticus Cornwall isn''t someone to be trifled with, Dutch..."


    "Cornwall? You''re talking about Cornwall?" Stephen recognized the name.


    "Yeah, what about him? Who is this Cornwall anyway? Can anyone tell me?" Arthur looked around, curious, feeling like he was the only one in the dark.


    "A major capitalist, a big businessman, a mining magnate, and the primary benefactor behind the Pinkertons. His influence stretches across several states; he''s the uncrowned king of this region." Stephen, having been around for a while, knew a thing or two.


    Cornwall was often in the newspapers; Stephen had seen his news more than once.


    It was always either about how much money he''d donated or how many people had died in his factories. The contrast perfectly showcased the irony of American society.


    He also poured money into the Pinkertons, tasking them with dismantling any worker organizations that threatened his business in his factories, and assassinating their leaders.


    In other words, the Pinkertons were Cornwall''s dogs, biting wherever he pointed.


    "A business tycoon, sounds like he has a lot to share," Dutch said flippantly.


    Deep down, he believed all these so-called upper-class types were useless fools, not worth worrying about.


    "Don''t worry, Hosea, we''ll succeed, and no one else will die," Dutch stated confidently. "Mr. Stephen, while we''re away, I''d be grateful if you could help protect the elderly and the women."


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    "Sure thing," Stephen shrugged, his tone light.


    "Thank you, I appreciate it immensely." As soon as he finished speaking, Dutch waved his hand, signaling everyone to prepare to leave.


    Seeing this, Hosea felt helpless. He weakly released Dutch''s reins, watching him lead the others away.


    Dutch had become like a wild horse; he was old and couldn''t hold him back.


    "Do you think this is a good idea?"


    After a long silence, when Dutch and the others were no longer visible, Hosea slowly turned to Stephen.


    His tone was melancholy, laced with weariness.


    "I don''t know, I''m not a robber; I''m just a bounty hunter," Stephen said, shaking his head. "But I do know one thing: no bandit who lives by the sword ever gets to grow old in peace."


    Stephen lit a cigarette and offered one to Hosea.


    Hosea took a slow puff, the strong smoke making him cough. Stephen quickly patted him on the back and handed him a flask of water.


    The old man drank half the flask in one go, finally feeling a little better.


    The two stood silently under the tree, smoking. Hosea seemed lost in thought, sighing constantly.


    Stephen finally couldn''t help but ask, "Do you really want to retire?"


    Hosea looked at Stephen, surprised, wondering why he''d asked.


    Stephen cleared his throat, trying to sound as calm as possible. "Maybe you''re harboring illusions, but I''ve read a lot of books, history books and others. Anyway, I''ve never heard of any notorious outlaw managing to rob a fortune and then retire peacefully to enjoy it."


    Hosea quickly tried to argue, "But this is America, this is a land of freedom..."


    "Do you really think so? Don''t fool yourself, Hosea. You''re a smart man. You can''t pull off one big score and retire comfortably like you imagine." Stephen shattered Hosea''s dream without hesitation.


    "Maybe as an outsider, I shouldn''t say this, but..." Stephen hesitated, unsure whether to continue.


    "Say it. There''s no one else here, just the two of us. I promise no one else will know what''s said here today," Hosea urged, knowing he was holding back.


    Stephen looked around. Everyone else was busy packing, just waiting for Dutch and the others to return so they could leave immediately.


    Under Hosea''s expectant gaze, Stephen finally said slowly, "You only have two paths now. One is to continue like this recklessly, and die a blaze of glory, and the other is..."


    Stephen looked at the old man and said slowly, "Go straight."


    "What?" Hosea didn''t understand. Stephen explained, "It means turning yourself to the government, working for the government, and becoming legitimate."


    Hosea stood there, stunned. He hadn''t expected Stephen to say that. But thinking about it, it seemed like the only path.


    "We could go overseas, to a place where no one knows us," Hosea still struggled.


    Stephen didn''t know how to explain it to Hosea.


    In another eight or nine years, the United States would establish an organization called the Bureau of Investigation, which would later become the FBI.


    The purpose of this organization was specifically to target people like the Van der Linde gang.


    If they wanted to settle scores, to arrest and hang these people, they would never escape.


    Unless they left American territory, the American government would find them no matter where they went.


    But war was coming, and the whole world would become a wasteland. Where could they run then?


    "Think about it carefully," Stephen said, deciding not to say anymore.


    They were all smart people, especially Hosea. It wasn''t that he didn''t understand, he had just been deceiving himself.


    "I''m just giving you advice. It''s your decision," Stephen said, finishing his cigarette and turning to walk towards his room.


    He had to pack his things too.

 15 - Odd Traits

    By midnight, Dutch and the others finally returned.


    Seeing them each laden with spoils, it was clear they''d had a profitable day.


    Dutch''s face beamed with joy, appearing extremely pleased. They had managed to seize a considerable sum of money and a large bundle of bearer bonds, which, after a while, they could sell off for a handsome return.


    Victorious return naturally called for celebration. At Dutch''s command, the gang gathered around the campfire, dancing merrily.


    The perpetually drunk uncle was the happiest of all, given free rein to indulge in his fondness for drink.


    He raised his bottle and began singing lewd songs, while Javier, the gunslinger, uncharacteristically picked up a guitar to accompany him.


    Stephen realized for the first time that this seemingly refined gunslinger was, in fact, a cultured man.


    Lenny and Bill, among others, howled along off-key while dancing around the fire.


    Seeing their joy, Stephen, also intrigued, took a drink and a smoke, and quietly enjoyed the peaceful scene.


    If anyone saw this scene now, and Stephen told them that these people were ruthless killers, they would never believe it.


    "Hey, why aren''t you with them?" A gentle and lively voice sounded beside him, followed by someone taking a seat.


    Stephen turned to see Mary-Beth, the literary-minded young woman.


    "What about you? Why aren''t you over there? Karen and the others seem to be having a blast." Stephen pointed at the boisterous crowd. Karen was raising a bottle, vowing to drink every man present under the table.


    "Well, those activities aren''t really my thing... anyway, I saw you talking with Hosea for a long time today?" Mary-Beth said after thinking for a while.


    "Oh, just chatting. You know, old folks sometimes like to talk a lot, and someone has to listen to their ramblings." Stephen naturally wouldn''t reveal what he and Hosea had discussed, but rather, he made up an excuse and glossed over it.


    "Alright." Mary-Beth thought for a moment, then awkwardly said, "Do you like this life? I mean, what do you think about being with us?"


    Stephen considered it, then replied seriously, "I think it''s good. I feel relaxed with you all, don''t have to overthink things. You''re different from most gangs, very different."


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    This wasn''t a lie, but rather Stephen''s genuine feelings. The Van der Linde gang didn''t have the bad habits of some other gangs, such as bullying newcomers, mistreating the weak, or killing for fun.


    What''s more, besides gunslingers, they also had many women and children in the gang. For this alone, Stephen had to give Dutch credit ¨C the man was an idealist. Whatever his ideals might be, and regardless of their feasibility, at least an idealist deserved respect.


    "That''s good. I thought you might not be used to this life." Mary-Beth smiled at Stephen.


    "Why? Do I not look like a cowboy?" Stephen asked curiously.


    "It''s not that. It''s just that I feel you''re more like a gentleman. Both your words and your actions are more like those of a civilized man." Mary-Beth stammered, seeming a little nervous.


    "Haha, civilized world. What even counts as civilized?" Stephen shook his head and said, "Civilization exists wherever people are, but not all civilizations are good. Nothing is absolute. Do those so-called civilized people who exploit the poor really represent civilization?"


    "Aren''t cities and towns considered civilized?" Mary-Beth asked curiously.


    "Of course, but I just don''t like them." Stephen shook his head: "This topic is big and heavy, let''s just be happy today."


    He raised his glass and toasted with Mary-Beth, then leaned against a tree, leisurely watching the revelers.


    Mary-Beth also leaned to one side, chatting idly with Stephen.


    After a while, just as Stephen was getting drowsy, a shadowy figure crept out of the house.


    Stephen focused his eyes and recognized Micah Bell, the man who had had his teeth knocked out and was despised by everyone in the gang.


    The man seemed to be afraid of being seen, wearing a mask, and sneakily came to the bonfire to grab two bottles of liquor, then turned to head back.


    Bill spotted him and excitedly ripped off his mask, revealing his toothless grin.


    This action caused an uproar of laughter from everyone present, who pointed and laughed at the disheveled Micah.


    The ridicule deeply stung Micah. He frantically waved his hands, snatched the mask back from Bill, then sullenly headed back inside.


    As he returned, he glanced at the composed Stephen and glared at him.


    Stephen leisurely raised his bottle, toasted him, then drained it in one gulp.


    No need to care about scum like that.


    "You really messed him up that time. We''ve had some peace and quiet these days." Mary-Beth beside him said with a smile.


    "Why do you all hate him so much?" Stephen asked curiously.


    "That guy''s like a mad dog." A look of disdain appeared in Mary-Beth''s eyes: "He often comes around and teases us girls for no reason. Although he doesn''t dare to really do anything, you know? That feeling is really annoying."


    "Then how did someone like that join the gang?" Stephen pointed at the others present and asked, "I mean, you all are good people, maybe with your own flaws, but you''re all good people. But that guy, I really can''t see any particular virtue in him."


    "I feel like you all hate him, so how did he survive in the gang?"


    "What virtues could he have?" Mary-Beth shook her head: "He saved Dutch once, so Dutch invited him to join the gang."


    "I don''t know why, but Dutch values him a lot. Plus, he''s actually pretty good with a gun, so sometimes we have to endure his stupidity and audacity." Mary-Beth said helplessly.


    Values that guy? Stephen looked curiously at Dutch, who was also happily laughing, and felt very puzzled.


    What qualities did Dutch see in that guy?


    Stephen suddenly became very curious. He felt that this guy named Micah Bell must have some strange traits that he hadn''t noticed.

 16 - New Trails

    The next day, when Stephen crawled out of his bunk, the gang was already packing up and getting ready to leave.


    Ms. Grimshaw was leading the few sober women to pack things up, one by one, packing them carefully onto the wagons.


    Dutch and Hosea stood aside, talking about something. Seeing Stephen come out, Dutch greeted him with a smile.


    Stephen took out a cigarette and offered one to each of them.


    He lit his cigarette, took a deep drag, the spicy tobacco flavor flowing through his lungs, and then slowly exhaled, taking away the last trace of drowsiness from his body.


    "Are you guys getting ready to head out?" Stephen asked curiously.


    "That''s right, we''re heading southeast. There''s a small ranching town there called Valentine. Hosea says there''s a place called Horseshoe Overlook, and we''re going to set up shop there," Dutch said, waving his hands.


    This guy seemed to like waving his arms no matter what he said, as if it would make his words more convincing.


    "You''re just telling me this?" Stephen said to Dutch with a smile. "You know I''m a bounty hunter, and you guys have quite the bounty on your heads."


    Dutch laughed heartily, drawing the attention of others.


    He clapped Stephen on the shoulder forcefully, saying with confidence, "You wouldn''t. I believe in you. I''ve never misjudged anyone, and I have faith in you, in myself."


    Who knows where his confidence came from.


    Stephen didn''t know how to respond, so he just nodded. "Don''t worry, you guys saved Mrs. Sadie from the O''Driscoll gang. That alone is enough for me not to give away your location."


    "Oh, right, and that damn Colm," Dutch said, slapping his forehead and looking at Stephen. "We''ll go check out Horseshoe Overlook first. If it''s a good spot, we''ll settle down there. Then we''ll start looking for the O''Driscoll gang."


    "I''ll find them. I have some of my own sources," Stephen said with a smile.


    After being a bounty hunter for so long, Stephen had developed some of his own informants.


    It might cost a little money, but that''s the deal, isn''t it?


    Stephen glanced at Mrs. Sadie, who was helping pack things up. Maybe his words last time had had an effect. Mrs. Sadie seemed to be doing much better lately and had started helping with the chores.


    "Mrs. Sadie should stay with you guys for now," Stephen said helplessly. "There are a lot of people here, and Mary-Beth and Karen can keep her company. If I take her away now, I''m afraid she won''t be able to handle it."


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    "Don''t worry, son, we''ll take care of her," Hosea chimed in. "You''re right, the support of friends is essential at a time like this."


    "Thank you. I don''t know what I would have done without you," Stephen said sincerely.


    Of course, he could take Mrs. Sadie away directly, but then what? He had to go after the O''Driscoll gang scum. Was he supposed to just leave Mrs. Sadie alone at home?


    God, that would be a disaster. To be honest, given Mrs. Sadie''s previous state, Stephen couldn''t imagine what kind of foolish thing she might do.


    After the small talk, Stephen went back to pack up his own things. He didn''t have much, so he got it done quickly.


    But Stephen felt a little embarrassed just standing around, watching everyone else bustling about.


    He happened to see Mary-Beth dragging a heavy box, looking exhausted. Without thinking, Stephen went over to lend a hand.


    This caused the girls around him to laugh exaggeratedly, looking like they were having the time of their lives.


    Ms. Grimshaw then unleashed her fury on the lazy girls, scaring them into quickly going back to work.


    Forget it, I should just relax and not get in the way.


    Stephen turned and walked into the stable, leading out his white horse.


    The horse had been cooped up for the past few days and was excited to finally get out. If Stephen hadn''t been holding his reins, the horse probably would have run off already.


    Stephen tidied up his saddle, loaded all his belongings onto his horse''s back, and led him slowly to the edge of the village, where the packing was almost complete.


    Arthur, carrying the wounded John on his back, roughly placed him on a prepared wagon that had been lined with blankets.


    Perhaps his movements were too rough, causing John to groan in pain.


    Arthur turned around and said to John with a look of disgust, "You should be paying me for this, and a lot too."


    John retorted, "If you were my employee, I would have fired you a long time ago."


    "Maybe you shouldn''t be here, but rather be a rancher or something. You''re just like those heartless capitalists," Arthur said sarcastically.


    "Oh... is that so? Thanks to you, maybe one day I really will deduct your wages," John retorted without hesitation.


    Watching these two bicker was quite amusing.


    Arthur was always sarcastic and seemed unwilling to admit defeat. This John, although usually cold and seemingly incapable of speaking properly, could sometimes be cutting when he was sarcastic.


    Stephen watched these two argue with interest. Why didn''t he have such eloquence? He had to learn from them, it might come in handy in the future.


    Bill dragged his prisoner, the poor Kieran, to Dutch. "Boss, what should we do with this O''Driscoll gang lowlife?"


    Kieran cried out in pain, "How many times do I have to say it? I''m really not with the O''Driscoll gang. I was just their stablehand, looking after the horses."


    "Oh, we''ll find out you''re a stablehand. Bill, he''s yours. Take him with us. We''ll need him," Dutch said, not bothering to listen to him and handing him over to Bill directly.


    Bill happily tied Kieran to his horse, knowing that they would be spending a lot of time together in the coming days.


    Soon the wagons were packed to the brim, and everyone climbed aboard, ready to leave.


    "Arthur, you and Hosea sit in the back wagon. I know you like to talk about the old days, and what exactly happened to your beloved old Dutch," Dutch said cheerfully, even interested in making fun of himself.


    Stephen rode his horse behind the convoy.


    Once everything was ready, at Dutch''s command, they slowly left Shady Belle.


    This group of old-fashioned outlaws once again embarked on the path of the new era. Was tragedy or comedy awaiting them ahead?


    No one knew, and Stephen didn''t know either.


    That''s how the future is, unpredictable, and always anticipated.


    But as long as you keep moving forward, you will eventually find out.

 17 - Moving On

    The convoy slowly made its way through the snow-capped mountains, the snow on the road gradually diminishing. Finally, at noon the next day, they were completely clear of the mountains.


    The snow on the ground had completely disappeared, replaced by a long-awaited emerald green, brimming with life.


    The weather grew warmer, and as they crossed the last ridge, the sun finally shone fully and generously upon them.


    Everyone eagerly shed their heavy winter coats, changing into lighter clothes. After slogging through the snow for so long, they could finally breathe a sigh of relief, which lifted their spirits considerably.


    Dutch summoned Micah, who had been withdrawn ever since they got into the snow, and instructed him to scout ahead with Lenny.


    Micah was reluctant, not because he didn''t want to scout. After enduring so much hardship in the mountains, he was itching to cut loose.


    But in his current state, missing half his teeth and struggling to eat, coupled with having to babysit someone, it didn¡¯t sit well with him.


    Dutch didn''t care about any of that; he just wanted someone to keep an eye on him, and Lenny was reliable. Otherwise, who knew what kind of trouble that crazy guy would stir up.


    Lenny didn''t want to go with Micah either, saying he''d rather go alone!


    But under Dutch''s insistence, the two reluctantly set off.


    Stephen, astride his white horse, kept close to the convoy, constantly having to rein in his spirited mount, lest it take him God knows where.


    *Clunk*


    As they crossed a small stream, a wheel came off Hosea and Arthur''s wagon.


    Charles rode up from behind to investigate: "What happened?"


    "Nothing, just a wheel came off," Arthur said with a hint of impatience.


    "We need to fix this quickly," Hosea said, stepping down to inspect the wheel, directing Charles to lend a hand.


    Stephen dismounted and rushed to help, urging Hosea to stand aside as he and Charles lifted the wagon.


    Hosea was already in his fifties; if he strained himself too much, his back would probably give out.


    Arthur struggled to reattach the wheel, hammering it firmly into place.


    "Didn''t know you had the strength to lift a wagon," Arthur quipped, never missing an opportunity to tease. He chuckled at the panting Hosea.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    "Haha, guess I''m not that old after all, or at least not completely," Hosea replied, unperturbed, as he climbed back into the wagon.


    "Who''s there?" Stephen, who was packing things away, sensed something amiss and abruptly looked behind him.


    On a small hillside behind them, several mysterious figures stood silhouetted.


    Everyone froze, turning to look in the direction Stephen was looking, Arthur¡¯s hand already on his holster.


    On a small slope not far above them, three horses stood, and three people, likely Native Americans, were watching them.


    "It should be fine; if they wanted to attack, they wouldn''t let us see them," Charles said calmly.


    Indeed, if these Native Americans intended to attack, they wouldn''t simply stand there watching. Put another way, they wouldn''t have let themselves be seen before attacking.


    After packing up, the others had already moved on. Arthur gave the poor packhorse a couple of sharp whacks, and they hurried to catch up.


    "We''ve treated these poor folks terribly," Hosea said with lingering regret.


    Over the years, the Americans had stopped at nothing in their wars against the Native Americans. The horrifying methods they employed were chilling to hear about.


    "The place we''re going is called the Heartlands. The land is good for both farming and grazing; it used to be all their land. But now they''ve lost it all, robbed clean," Hosea continued.


    "Most of them have either been killed or driven onto reservations, barren places where nothing grows."


    Charles remained silent, but Arthur chimed in insensitively, "Charles, what about your tribe?"


    Charles pondered for a moment, then slowly said, "I''m not even sure if I have a tribe; I don''t remember much. My father was a person of color; he said he lived with our people for a while, along with several other free Black people."


    "But later, their land was taken, and we started wandering. I was young then, so I spent my whole life hiding. A few years later, my mother was taken by some soldiers, and my father turned to alcohol. I was probably thirteen when I was left to fend for myself."


    Stephen glanced at the man, a mixed-race of black and Native American decent. A century later, this would be seen as a good thing, but in this time it would be a curse.


    "We found Arthur when he was about that age. He was fearless and quick to learn," Hosea said with a hint of pride, like an old man bragging about his son.


    "I certainly didn''t learn as fast as Mr. Marston," Arthur said sarcastically.


    Charles asked in surprise, "Is there something between you and Marston? Why are you always taking jabs at him?"


    Stephen was curious as well; he had long sensed that something was off between Arthur and John. "I can feel there is friction between you two, but unlike how you feel about Micah, this feels different."


    Arthur said helplessly, "That''s a long story. Maybe Hosea can tell you?"


    Once opened, the old man couldn''t stop.


    The three listened as Hosea rambled on about the past, including the feud between Arthur and John.


    As they neared their destination, Hosea pointed northwest and said, "Over there is the livestock town I was talking about, Valentine. Cowboys, outlaws, pretty girls¡ªin short, a place for people like us."


    "I''ve been there before, to track down a fugitive. I was deeply impressed by the streets paved with cow dung and horse manure," Stephen added. "In short, avoid walking in that godforsaken place if you can; it''s disgusting."


    Hearing Stephen and Hosea''s descriptions, Arthur and Charles were filled with curiosity about the mysterious town and were eager to see it for themselves.


    After walking further, the surrounding forest grew thicker. Javier was waiting for them ahead.


    "Hey, brothers, over here! Slow down, let me jump on," Javier called from the edge of the woods, waving to them. "Just follow the wagon tracks."


    Javier climbed onto the wagon and said to everyone, "This is a great place. I think you''ll all love it."

 18 - Unreal

    The wagon burst through a thick grove of trees, and suddenly, a clearing opened up before them.


    It was a small, open hilltop, lush and green all around. A ray of bright sunlight illuminated the center, making it look like a paradise.


    The women were already setting up the new Camp. A few men who had arrived earlier were chopping wood, and Mr. Pearson was tinkering with his big pot again, seemingly preparing a hearty dinner for everyone.


    The tents for sleeping were already pitched, and other belongings were gradually being arranged. It was starting to resemble a proper Camp. Although it was out in the open, it was still much better than the snowy mountains.


    "You were right, Hosea. This is a good spot," Dutch said, looking genuinely pleased. Seeing the others arrive, he smiled at Hosea. "We survived. It''s time for us to prosper."


    "Arthur and I were supposed to prosper back in Blackwater," Hosea grumbled as he stepped down from the wagon, throwing cold water on Dutch''s enthusiasm. "We had a big plan, but Micah got you interested in that boat, and here we are."


    Dutch looked at his old friend, a hint of impatience in his eyes, and walked towards the edge of the cliff. "We''ve all made mistakes over the years, Hosea. Everyone makes mistakes. But I''ve kept us together..."


    "I''m just worried," Hosea said, following him closely, his voice trembling slightly. "I''m worried I won''t see that day, Dutch. I want to get everyone safe before that happens."


    "But we''re stuck now, stuck in this eastern territory, penniless, and far from the western frontier of our dreams."


    Perhaps his earlier conversation with Stephen had spooked him, or maybe old age simply brought with it a tendency towards melancholy and worry, but Hosea''s words were filled with pessimism about the future.


    "I understand, but we''re safe. We can make some money here and start over..." Dutch said, growing increasingly irritated. He explained his grand plans to Hosea, step by step.


    Arthur, standing beside them, seemed to agree with Dutch''s plans, listening intently and nodding in agreement.


    Stephen, however, remained unconvinced. He felt that things weren''t as simple as they sounded.


    The western frontier of their dreams might not even exist.


    Dutch seemed to get carried away with his speech, leading the three of them to the edge of the cliff. He opened his arms to the sky, his voice filled with passion and fervor. "Can you look around you? The world has its comforts."


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    "Ladies and gentlemen, put down your tools for now." Dutch turned and called out to the others, who were busy at work, gesturing for them to gather around.


    Dutch was about to start another one of his speeches, but Stephen wasn''t interested in listening.


    He sat alone on the edge of the cliff, looking out at the distant town.


    The setting sun shone through the thin mist in the air, casting a golden glow over the land.


    The river in the distance sparkled, reflecting the golden light.


    Surrounded by such beauty, Stephen couldn''t resist lighting a cigarette.


    The rising smoke mingled with the mist, creating a magical atmosphere.


    Looking at everything in Horseshoe Overlook through this haze, Stephen suddenly felt like he was looking at a faded, old photograph.


    It was a bit blurry, a bit unreal.


    Stephen suddenly wanted to photograph or paint everything here as a keepsake.


    He decided that he would find a place to buy a camera. He just wasn''t sure if Valentine, being such a small town, would have one for sale.


    Of course, cameras existed in this era, although they were still quite primitive, and the pictures they took were black and white. But it was better than nothing.


    They were expensive, though. He wasn''t sure if his wallet could afford it.


    A burst of laughter came from the others behind him. It seemed like they were talking about something funny, and Stephen couldn''t help but turn around to look.


    Dutch had finished his speech, and everyone was dispersing, going back to their tasks.


    Stephen watched the chaotic but organized gang members, feeling a pang of envy.


    He had been alone for the past two years. He wondered when he would have good companions like these, with whom he could wander the world.


    Just as Stephen was lost in thought and feeling sentimental, Ms. Grimshaw approached him, bringing him back to reality.


    "Mr. Stephen, we''ve prepared a place for you. You can put your things there. Of course, that''s if you''re willing to squeeze in with the rest of us."


    Ms. Grimshaw pointed to a row of tents. "It''s over there, next to Javier''s."


    Stephen glanced at the spot Ms. Grimshaw was pointing at. It was indeed a good location.


    "Thank you, kind lady. Please hold the spot for me. I''ll be needing it. But I need to go to Valentine first." Stephen took out a banknote and handed it over, as a small tip.


    "You know, I''m still a good bounty hunter. I need to see if Valentine has any heinous criminals that need to be brought to justice, or to rescue some suffering people." Stephen said with a playful tone.


    Stephen planned to go to Valentine later. Besides checking for any bounty missions, he also planned to find a place to sell the jewelry that Dutch had given him earlier.


    Although most of those things were worthless trinkets, well, every little bit helps.


    If he wanted to buy a camera, he would have to work hard.


    "Oh, if only the men in this gang were as diligent as you, especially Uncle and the Reverend. It would make my life so much easier," Ms. Grimshaw sighed.


    She took the banknote, smiling. "If you don''t mind, you can leave your luggage with me. I''ll help you unpack."


    "Oh, of course, I don''t mind. Thank you very much, madam." Stephen was happy to accept the offer.


    He quickly got up, walked to where his horse was tied, unloaded the various items from its back, handed them to Ms. Grimshaw, and thanked her sincerely.


    "Also, please take care of Mrs. Sadie. You know, Mr. Yake is dead, and I still need to go after those O''Driscoll gang bastards." Stephen looked at Mrs. Sadie in the distance, saying to Ms. Grimshaw with concern.


    Ms. Grimshaw looked at Mrs. Sadie as well, sighing deeply. "Don''t worry, I''ll take good care of her."

 19 - Mud and Manure

    After placing his belongings at the Camp, Stephen prepared to set off with only his essentials.


    Long knives and spears weren''t exactly suitable for bringing into town; the police would be watching.


    Just as Stephen finished packing and was about to leave, he noticed Strauss, the gang''s accountant, leading his horse out.


    "Hey, Mr. Strauss, where are you headed?" Stephen greeted with a smile.


    Strauss, clutching his ever-present ledger, replied somewhat woodenly, "I''m going to Valentine. I need to do a little business, you know. With so many people in the gang, we must have a steady source of income."


    Business? What kind of business could they do, being strangers in these parts?


    But Stephen didn''t bother to ask, since they were just riding together. He led his white horse and said, "Mind if I tag along? I happen to be going to town myself."


    "OK, no problem," Strauss agreed without hesitation.


    After passing through dense forest, the two arrived on a country road.


    The sky was already darkening, so both men slightly quickened their pace, hoping to reach town soon.


    Although there was a road, the surrounding area was still a primitive wilderness.


    In this era of America, except for the core areas of the eastern thirteen states, most of the west and even the midwest remained sparsely populated.


    Although there were towns, ranches, and farms, everything outside these places was still very wild.


    Vast forests and prairies were teeming with life.


    Soon, Stephen spotted several white-tailed deer grazing leisurely in the woods, which quickly bounded away in fright upon seeing them approach.


    Several birds flew freely in the sky. Stephen extended his hand, and one bold bird landed on it, resting for a long while.


    Only after its companions had flown far away did it take off to find its roost.


    Several rabbits scurried around on the ground, nearly getting trampled by the horses'' hooves.


    It seemed that Pearson wouldn''t have to worry about anyone catching prey here; there was plenty of naive game.


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    Stephen inhaled the fresh, grassy air and relaxed, slumping loosely in the saddle.


    He''d been traveling for the past couple of days and was starting to feel tired. He would like to take a bath to relax in town.


    Strauss rode his horse, constantly pondering over his ledger.


    Suddenly, he turned to Stephen and asked, "Mr. Stephen, do you have enough money? If not, I could lend you some, at an interest rate, of course..."


    Stephen knew what this guy was doing in town; he was lending money to their own.


    Actually, in some way, Stephen didn''t consider himself one of their own.


    "Oh... no thanks, Mr. Strauss. I have some income of my own," Stephen refused.


    Seeing Stephen was not interested, Strauss shook his head with some regret and continued down the road.


    When the two passed a railway track, it meant the town was near.


    Stephen kicked his horse and started jogging along the tracks, while Strauss continued to read his ledger.


    "Mr. Strauss, I''m going ahead. See you later," Stephen waved to the old accountant, and without waiting for a reply, spurred his horse into town.


    As the white horse ran, a warm evening breeze blew in his face.


    These winds carried away the last bit of chill on Stephen''s body, along with the stench of cow and sheep manure.


    Stephen instinctively took a deep breath into the wind, and almost choked himself.


    He quickly covered his nose; this place was too terrible.


    As they went deeper into town, there was more animal waste on the ground.


    This waste mixed with the mud, forming a sludge.


    The horse sank a few inches into the muck. After a few steps, the white hooves turned black.


    Stephen didn''t want to get off his horse. This environment was too much for someone from the 21st century.


    The town was not big, with only one main street. At the end of the road was a stable, and Stephen rode straight in.


    His horse needed horseshoes and a proper saddle.


    "Hello, how may I help you?"


    The owner and his assistant were cleaning up, getting ready to close. But upon seeing a customer, they warmly greeted him.


    "Wow... oh my God, what am I seeing?!"


    Stephen was just about to speak when the owner exclaimed, startling Stephen and his assistant.


    The owner immediately dropped his tools and rushed to the white horse, gently stroking its body.


    His expressions, his adoring eyes, and his tender movements were like someone seeing a long-lost lover.


    Stephen felt a chill and goosebumps rose on his arms.


    This owner was crazy.


    "Such a fine horse, such a pure white color, such a physique, such a stance, it''s like a steed of angels!" The owner excitedly said to Stephen, "Are you selling this horse? I can offer a very high price! Whatever you want!"


    Looking at the owner''s excited state, Stephen felt that he would do anything.


    Stephen refused, "Not for sale, but I can leave it here overnight. You have to get it a good set of horseshoes and a saddle, and clean it up."


    At first, Stephen was really ready to sell the horse and start retirement.


    But now, he needs this horse to chase down his enemies.


    "That''s a pity." The owner shook his head sadly, then said to Stephen, "Such a fine horse requires the best, and the saddle must be custom-made, which will be very expensive."


    "Don''t worry, I have plenty of money." Stephen took out two bills and handed them to the owner: "This is a deposit, and I''ll give you the same amount when it''s done. How soon can I get what I need?"


    The owner took the money and counted it, then flicked the bills and said, "Not enough. At least that much again."


    "Fine, you''re a greedy fellow." Stephen took out two more bills: "I need it by noon tomorrow."


    Looking at the money in Stephen''s hand, the owner gritted his teeth and said, "No problem. After 12 o''clock tomorrow, you can come and take your horse."

 20 - Black Market Blues

    As Stephen stepped out of the stable and onto the streets of Valentine, night had fully descended.


    The stable faced the town''s main street, and the various shops lining the road were lit up, creating a cozy atmosphere.


    Few people wandered the streets, save for a few drunken patrons staggering out of the saloon, aimlessly wandering around.


    Stephen pinched his nose and, stepping carefully around the mixture of manure and urine, headed towards the saloon.


    After being up in the mountains for so long, it was time to treat himself to a good meal.


    Pushing open the saloon doors, a mixed scent of food, alcohol, sweat, and other strange odors wafted out.


    This was one of the reasons Stephen disliked so-called civilized society ¨C it simply smelled terrible.


    "Martin, a beer for me, and one for yourself."


    Stephen casually approached the bar, tossed two coins in front of the bartender, lit a cigarette, and leaned against the counter.


    "Long time no see, Stephen. I thought you were dead," the bartender said, taking the coins and placing a beer on the counter.


    "What are you talking about? Do I look like someone who''s about to kick the bucket?" Stephen chuckled.


    "You haven''t shown your face in months. You know, when a bounty hunter like you disappears for months, it usually means they''re pushing up daisies." Martin shrugged, giving him a knowing look.


    "Don''t compare me to those fools." Stephen lifted his beer and drained half of it, then slammed the bottle back down on the bar.


    "Where''s old Jack?" Stephen casually asked.


    "Upstairs. Looks like you''re here for something." Martin grinned. "He''s in the private room upstairs."


    "Thanks. Get me, no, get two meals ready. I''ll be down to eat later." Stephen turned and headed upstairs.


    An accomplished bounty hunter knows exactly where to find the information he needs.


    And in this era, the easiest places to gather news were the saloon, the black market, and a few others.


    This saloon was ostensibly just that, but the occasional black market operation was not out of the question.


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    Stephen ambled upstairs to the small room at the end of the hall.


    A giant of a man was sitting outside the door, easily over six feet tall and built like a brick house. His thighs were probably thicker than Stephen''s waist.


    In later years, this guy would be a top NBA prospect.


    This was Tommy, old Jack''s son, a simpleton with a head full of muscles.


    "Hey, Tommy, how''s it going?" Stephen said, offering him a cigarette.


    "Not bad. All the men in this damn town are softies; they''re afraid to fight me. You''re more fun, though." Tommy was excited to see Stephen.


    "When are we going to have another go?" Tommy rubbed his fists together with anticipation.


    "Not today. I need to see your dad about something important. Maybe later." Stephen clapped the big lug on the shoulder. "I''ll fight you when I get back."


    "Alright," Tommy said, his face falling with disappointment. He listlessly opened the door behind him. "Come on in, my friend."


    Stephen entered the small room. It was cluttered, with various strange items piled almost to the ceiling.


    In the center of the room, a small table was lit by an oil lamp.


    A skinny old man sat behind the table, engrossed in a book.


    "Long time no see, old Jack." Stephen casually plopped down in the chair opposite him.


    "You haven''t croaked yet? That''s a miracle," old Jack croaked, his voice like sawing wood.


    Stephen dug around in his ear, pulled out a large wad of wax, and flicked it into a nearby vase.


    "You come here just to pick your ears for me?" old Jack frowned.


    "Of course not. I have an important matter to discuss." Stephen said, smoking cigarette. "Tell me, where can I find the O''Driscoll gang around here?"


    "You''re playing with fire now, huh? You dare to mess with those guys?" Old Jack laughed. "Even if I told you, do you have the guts to bother them?"


    Stephen looked confused. "Do I look that timid to you? I think I''m pretty brave."


    "It has nothing to do with being brave, those guys are ruthless killers." Old Jack shook his head. "What do you want with them?"


    "Just a little personal business, you know," Stephen said casually.


    "Don''t lie to me. What personal business could you have with those guys?" Old Jack shook his head. "You want to make trouble with the O''Driscoll gang?"


    "You''re too clever for your own good, nothing escapes you." Stephen spread his hands. "Will you help me or not?"


    "This is a big risk for me. If they find out I betrayed them, I''m finished." Old Jack said seriously.


    "So, it costs extra."


    Stephen knew it. Old Jack was a greedy bastard, ready to sell his own wife for enough money.


    He pulled out the bag of jewels that Dutch had given him and dumped it on the table, creating a flashy display.


    "Is that enough?"


    Old Jack eyed Stephen suspiciously, seemingly unable to believe that the bounty hunter could have so many valuables.


    He grabbed a necklace and examined it closely under the light of the oil lamp.


    "You''re trying to pull a fast one on me! This stuff is worthless!" Old Jack looked at Stephen grimly.


    After so many years in the business, he could instantly tell how much the jewels were worth.


    "Take a closer look. It''s still worth something. Besides, I just want some information, I don''t need you to do anything, right?" Stephen said innocently.


    "The clinic, right next to the sheriff''s office."


    Old Jack thought for a moment, then said, "Some of the O''Driscoll gang are hiding out in the clinic next to the sheriff''s office. They''re using it as a base for some black market deals."


    "Next to the sheriff''s office?" Stephen repeated, incredulous. "You mean..."


    "That''s right." Old Jack chuckled. "They''ve bribed the deputy sheriff."


    "What about Sheriff Malloy? Has he been bought off too?"


    "More or less. Our sheriff is too busy juggling his wife and his mistress to care about this." Old Jack sneered. "As long as those guys pay their dues, he doesn''t give a damn."

 21 - Drunk Drama

    Now that I knew where these guys were, the rest was easy.


    Stephen ambled downstairs, where Martin had already prepared his dinner.


    He found a solo seat and quietly began enjoying his meal.


    It was a seared steak with a vegetable salad, accompanied by freshly baked buttered bread and a plate of sliced fresh fruit.


    You couldn''t expect gourmet food in a small town like this, but the ingredients were undeniably fresh.


    The beef was tender and juicy, seared to a perfect crisp on the outside and tender on the inside ¨C pure bliss with every bite.


    The vegetables were fresh and vibrant green, simply blanched and tossed with a rich salad dressing.


    The bread was freshly baked today, with a slightly crisp crust and a soft, airy interior. Dipped in the vegetable broth, it was incredibly flavorful.


    The fruit was simple: a few slices of apple and pear, plus half a peach.


    Stephen asked Martin the bartender for a bottle of whiskey and finished his dinner feeling great, then staggered out of the saloon.


    The night was late, and the streets were deserted. Only the saloon behind him remained lively.


    Stephen had downed quite a bit of booze, and the whiskey, in particular, was strong, making his head spin.


    Combined with the cool night air, it made him even dizzier. He leaned against a wall, wandering aimlessly through the town¡¯s streets.


    Stephen staggered toward the Clinic, his footsteps erratic, looking like a drunken mess.


    Of course, he wasn''t truly drunk, nor was he usually one for excessive drinking.


    If he wanted to figure out what was happening at the Clinic, and without arousing suspicion, he needed a legitimate reason to go inside and snoop around.


    And who better than a drunk to do so with impunity?


    Stephen kicked the door of the Clinic open, and as the owner looked at him with surprise, he grabbed a bottle of medicine from the shelf and started drinking from it.


    "Gimme booze! I need booze!"


    The clinic owner rushed forward, trying to stop Stephen, reaching out to snatch the medicine bottle from him.


    "This is medicine, not booze! Where did this drunk come from, for God''s sake!"


    But the owner was just an average-sized man; he was no match for Stephen.


    Stephen waved his arm grandly, reminiscent of Lu Zhishen uprooting the willow tree, and easily lifted the saloon owner up in the air.


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    "Give me booze! Hurry, give me booze!"


    Stephen acted every bit the raving drunk, charging into the back of the Clinic with the owner held high.


    As he stumbled his way to the back he kept screaming, afraid others didn¡¯t know what he was up to


    Sure enough, just as Stephen entered the back room, three large men burst out.


    Though Stephen felt slightly dizzy, he clearly saw the green scarves around their necks.


    Looks like Old Jack wasn¡¯t lying. Stephen instantly felt relieved.


    "Argh! Booze! Give me booze, or I''ll kill you!"


    Stephen continued to yell and scream, and the three men immediately rushed forward.


    First, they snatched the owner from his grasp, then pinned Stephen to the ground and began to rain down punches on him.


    Stephen didn''t retaliate. Instead, he opened his mouth wide and spewed directly at the head of the man nearest him.


    He''d eaten so much for dinner and drunk so much alcohol that his stomach was ready to burst.


    After taking two good punches, he vomited all over the guy.


    An extremely foul odor immediately filled the air.


    The man who¡¯d been puked on clearly didn¡¯t expect this and stared at Stephen in stunned disbelief.


    The other two, along with the freed doctor, quickly covered their noses and backed away. The stench was unbearable.


    Enraged, the man reached for his gun, but someone suddenly burst through the front door.


    "What the hell''s going on here?"


    It was the Deputy Sheriff of Livestock town Valentine, his brow furrowed as he took in the chaotic scene in the Clinic.


    Seeing that he''d achieved what he wanted, Stephen feigned unconsciousness, collapsing to the ground with his eyes closed.


    "Where did this drunk come from?" the man covered in vomit snarled. "I''m going to shoot him!"


    "Stop!" The Deputy Sheriff hastily commanded. He plugged his nose and declared, "No killing in town, that''s the deal!"


    "But...!" the guy snapped back "What if he saw somethin'' he shouldn''t have?"


    The Deputy Sheriff eyed the apparently passed-out Stephen, deciding, "Don''t worry, this guy''s probably passed out drunk. I''ll lock him up for a couple of days and he''ll forget it all, that''ll teach him."


    When Stephen woke up again, it was noon the next day.


    As he opened his eyes, he saw an unfamiliar ceiling.


    Stephen''s mouth was parched, and he reeked. He looked at himself with disgust and wished he could jump into a river to wash off.


    "You''re awake?" a raspy voice said from beside him.


    Stephen turned his head to see Sheriff Malloy of Valentine. Naturally, he was now in the Police station jail.


    "Sheriff, what am I charged with?" Stephen asked, feigning innocence.


    "I didn''t know you were such a lightweight. Only a bottle of whiskey and two beers knocked you out cold," the Sheriff said with a surprised expression. "I thought someone like you would have a stronger tolerance."


    Stephen had helped Sheriff Malloy catch two fugitives, so they had a prior working relationship.


    Sheriff Malloy strolled up to Stephen and smiled over to him through the bars, laughing, "You really stepped in it this time. Drunk and disorderly conduct, vandalizing the Clinic, assaulting the owner. You''re going to lose every bit of profit you had from it.¡±


    ¡°Ah!! What do you mean?¡± Stephen inquired, looking astounded.


    ¡°I inquired Old Jack the bar keep and he said that you requested him to trade a set of Jewelries for you, worth of dozens of dollars. so he helped you paid up for bail out, means that you profit..¡±


    The Sheriff clapped and stretched his hands, with a joking manner saying ¡°Gones.¡±


    Stephen instantly understood that Old Jack had just helped him out.


    That cunning old fox was trying to make him owe him a favor even now.


    However, he had to play the part completely. Immediately, he looked as if he was on the verge of tears.


    His performance was so practiced, his expression so lifelike, that he was practically a sure winner for a Golden Globe award.


    ¡°Good heavens, that¡¯s what i saved through those shivering long day working on the Snowy mountain¡± Stephen shouted with anguish heart, all witnesses there cannot stand watching any longer.


    "Alright, quit howling," the Sheriff said, getting a little impatient as he opened the prison cell door to release Stephen.


    He pointed to the front doors, adding, "I have things to do today, and I am done chatting with you. So, grab your gear and get out."

 22 - New Threads

    Needed a bath, and a change of clothes pronto.


    That was Stephen''s immediate thought as he stepped out of the Sheriff''s office.


    It was pretty clear the Deputy hadn''t exactly given him a royal ride back to the station last night.


    So, Stephen was covered in more than just his own vomit. There was also a generous coating of dried, hardened... well, let''s just call it a fecal-urine cocktail.


    The repulsive aroma was almost unbearable.


    He shook his head, still feeling groggy, and headed straight for the town''s only general store.


    General stores back then really were *general*. They had food, drinks, and all sorts of oddities, including clothes, of course.


    Stephen pushed the door open. The owner, who was sitting at the counter, immediately pinched his nose and bellowed, "What in the hell smells like a sewer explosion?!"


    "If I told you I was here to spend money, would you treat me any differently?" Stephen pulled a few bills out of his pants pocket and tossed them onto the counter. The owner''s attitude changed instantly.


    Stephen knew how those lawmen operated. The first thing they did when they caught a suspect was to empty their pockets and stuff the cash into their own.


    That¡¯s why Stephen wisely stashed his dough down his trousers¡­


    "What can I get for you, sir? I got just about everything here, name it!" the owner said, sucking up because of the money and reluctantly tolerating the stink.


    "It''s pretty obvious. I need clothes. A new set of clothes." Stephen pointed to the ready-made garments hanging on the side. "Just grab me a couple of the right size. I can''t stand being in here long enough to pick anything out."


    The owner hastily packed a set of clothes according to Stephen''s size and then sent him on his way, like a cursed plague.


    The hotel was right across from the general store. He could bathe there. Stephen hurried inside with his new clothes.


    Even he couldn¡¯t stand his stink.


    The hotel owner gave Stephen the same look the general store owner did, holding his nose and demanding, "Mister, that''ll cost extra!"


    "I''ll pay double. Just let me get cleaned up!" Stephen shouted back, pinching his own nose.


    "Alright, go on in. Just hope the next customer doesn''t complain about the smell," the owner said. The money spoke, so he relented.


    A plump black woman was cleaning the bathroom. She gave Stephen a flirty wink as he barged in. "Hey there, handsome. Want some company?"


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    *You really aren''t bothered by the stench¡­* Stephen mumbled, before swiftly kicking the woman out.


    He slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it tight. He wasn''t risking a second chance for that lady.


    That sort was more Micah''s type anyway. His taste wasn''t *quite* that strong.


    Man, it had been too long since he¡¯d had a hot shower. This was going to be wonderful.


    Stephen quickly rinsed off the worst of it, then sank into the hot water of the nearby tub.


    He felt like he was melting, just wanting to stay there forever without moving a muscle.


    He stayed in the water until it was practically cold before finally getting up, using the free soap to thoroughly wash his body and hair.


    He scrubbed several times, until the owner started knocking on the door, telling him his time was up. Finally, Stephen reluctantly put on his new clothes and emerged.


    The new clothes fit perfectly. Light blue denim jacket paired with a white shirt and dark blue jeans.


    Add a pair of brown tall riding boots and top it off with a black cowboy hat.


    A leather satchel slung across his hip, the gun belt fastened, and the pistol tucked into the holster. A dapper cowboy was born.


    He handed the owner two bills and stepped out of the hotel, feeling refreshed.


    The sun was shining brightly that day. The afternoon sun warmed him to the bone.


    After last night''s ruckus, Stephen''s stomach was growling.


    But now was hardly the time to eat. The saloon probably didn''t have any food. Stephen just headed straight for the stables.


    A worker was washing down Stephen¡¯s white horse outside the stables. The horse got excited when he saw Stephen.


    He looked like he was tired of being in the stables and needed to run around some.


    The owner was buried in his accounting books, then spotted Stephen and hurriedly came out to greet him.


    "Sir, you''ve come at the perfect time! Your horse is almost ready. The new saddle and horseshoes have been put on. We were just waiting for it to get washed, so you could ride him back home."


    The owner continued wistfully, "Just a question. You still aren¡¯t thinking about selling him? I can offer a very¡­"


    "Rest assured. I''m not going to sell him." Stephen interrupted, waving a small wad of cash in the air.


    "Alright, if you change your mind, be sure to give me first dibs," the owner sighed, looking heartbroken as he took the money.


    It was probably the first time in the owner''s life that making money felt bad.


    Stephen stood at the stables door, smoking while he watched the worker finish washing his white horse.


    It was no wonder the owner was so fond of it. After a good cleaning, it really was a beauty.


    Its gleaming fur practically glowed in the sunlight.


    Its muscular frame was so perfect; the horse seemed full of explosive power.


    The worker trimmed and cleaned its long mane, then gave the horse a little braid.


    The new black saddle contrasted perfectly against the white of the horse.


    All in all, anyone riding this horse would easily get everyone''s attention.


    With the last water spot wiped clean, the worker had finished the horse.


    The worker put on the saddle and the reins. Now this majestic white horse was ready for riding.


    Stephen led his horse out of the stables and, ignoring the owner¡¯s melancholy gaze, swung himself into the saddle. A tug on the reins, and they trotted off towards Horseshoe Overlook.


    He needed to go find help.


    That Clinic was too tough to handle solo. He needed a couple of specialists to help out.


    His specialty was capturing targets, not robbery or assassination. These covert ops were a bit out of his range.


    If he met those three head-on, Stephen could make flowers bloom redder than blood in 10 seconds.


    Unfortunately, the Sheriff¡¯s office was right next door. If he alerted the cops, it would be curtains for him.


    He didn''t want to have a bounty on his head and have to live in constant fear.


    So, it was best to keep the cops out of it. Even if the police got involved, he would pin the crime on someone else.


    He trusted that Dutch and the gang would be willing to take the fall for a good old run-in with the O''Driscoll gang.

 23 - Simple Arthur

    It has to be said, the stable owner might have some questionable kinks, but his craftsmanship is top-notch.


    The saddle, tailor-made for the white horse, ensured both horse and rider were perfectly comfortable.


    A clean body and flowing mane made the white horse, galloping in the sunset, look like an elegant sprite.


    When Stephen rode back to Camp, the others had already packed up.


    Karen was on watch and exclaimed in surprise when she saw Stephen ride in: "Wow¡­ where did this Prince Charming come from, here to pick up his princess?"


    "Riding a white horse isn''t just for princes, it could be Tangsen too." Stephen chuckled.


    "Tangsen, what''s that?" Karen asked, clearly clueless about the reference.


    It was one of Stephen''s greatest regrets ¨C his jokes always fell flat.


    "Never mind, just an eastern monk, don''t worry about it."


    Guided by Karen, Stephen tied the horse to the designated post, then looked around, asking, "Where''s Dutch? Need to talk to him about something."


    "Don''t know, he went out with Hosea, no idea where." Karen shrugged, "What do you need him for?"


    Out already? Just settled down, what are those two up to? Stephen scratched his head, speechless.


    "Something about the O''Driscoll gang, is anyone else around? Where''s Arthur?"


    "He''s over at the cliff with Charles, having a drink." Karen pointed to the cliff.


    She playfully patted Stephen on the shoulder with a smirk: "Come by my tent for a drink tonight, handsome."


    Stephen quickly refused ¨C he wasn''t that kind of guy.


    Pearson was already preparing dinner, he saw Stephen and called out, "Cowboy, you''re just in time, the stew''s almost ready."


    Stephen walked over, eyeing the bubbling pot curiously: "What''s cooking tonight?"


    Pearson proudly announced, "Charles bagged a deer this morning, and I caught two rabbits, plus a plump rat, all stewed with some veggies."


    As he spoke, Pearson scooped up a spoonful of stew and savored it, "I think it tastes amazing! Want a bowl?"


    A rat? Really?


    Stephen suddenly found the pot hard to look at, the Van der Linde gang certainly had strong stomachs, if nothing else.


    "I''m going to find Arthur, need to discuss something important about the O''Driscoll gang, you know." Stephen quickly turned and left.


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    "Oh, that is important, don''t worry, I''ll save some for you." Pearson called after him.


    Please, eat it all yourself! Stephen wailed inwardly.


    Quickly escaping the dark cuisine chef, Stephen found the camp terrifying.


    He went straight to the cliff, where Arthur and Charles were sitting, drinking.


    Seeing Stephen, Arthur raised his bottle, inviting him to join.


    Stephen felt his stomach still a bit delicate from last night¡¯s drinking.


    He waved, refusing, and lit a cigarette, sitting down beside them.


    "Guess what I found?" Stephen began, teasingly looking at them with a grin.


    "Looking like that, what could you find? A decent whorehouse?" Arthur quipped, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.


    "Look at you, new clothes, new shoes, even a new hat. Looks like you did pretty well in Valentine."


    "Don''t even mention it, it was a nightmare." Stephen covered his face, not wanting to recall last night.


    That spur-of-the-moment idea last night was just awful, Stephen regretted it more and more.


    He took a long drag, as if trying to smoke away the awful memories: "I found the O''Driscoll gang''s hideout in Valentine."


    "What? O''Driscolls? A hideout in Valentine?" Arthur looked shocked, Charles watched Stephen with curiosity.


    "They''ve taken over the Clinic in Valentine and have bought off Sheriff Malloy and the Deputy Sheriff. If our guys go to Valentine and get spotted, what do you think will happen?"


    Stephen said it with a smile, but Arthur didn''t find it funny.


    He had dealt with the O''Driscolls for half his life and knew exactly what they were like.


    Charles took a swig of his drink, then asked carefully, "What are you thinking? Taking them out?"


    "Of course, why leave the threat?" Stephen replied matter-of-factly.


    "They have the Deputy Sheriff protecting them, and one wrong move will bring the cops. I can''t do it alone, that''s why I came to you guys for help."


    "We need to be careful." Arthur said worriedly, "We''ve just settled down, can''t go looking for trouble."


    "Don''t worry, I checked it out. There''s only the owner and three hired guns. As long as we sneak in quietly and don''t fire, we can get out before they know what happened."


    Stephen said confidently, "And as far as I know, they''re running a black market there, helping themselves fence stolen goods, so there''s gotta be a lot of money there..."


    "Why didn''t you say that earlier?" Arthur looked at Stephen with distaste.


    "It''s not too late to say it now." Stephen shrugged, "It''s a Clinic, how can they not have money, plus we can get a lot of medicine while we''re at it."


    "True, we do need those medicines." Arthur nodded, then slapped his thigh: "Let''s go then, let''s head out!"


    "You serious? Shouldn''t we wait for Dutch to come back and talk about it?" Charles asked, confused.


    "Nah, just some O''Driscoll scum." Arthur slapped Charles on the shoulder with excitement: "Let''s go now, we''ll take care of them tonight."


    Since Arthur had spoken, Stephen and Charles naturally had no objections.


    "You need any weapons? We shouldn''t use guns this time." Arthur asked Stephen, "I have some weapons in my wagon, you can go pick something handy."


    "Oh, I''ve got my own." Stephen went to his cot and took out his longsword, twirling it a few times.


    "Alright." Seeing the sword, Arthur clearly remembered the psychological trauma it had inflicted on him the first time he met Stephen.


    Stephen put the lever-action rifle he got on the snowy mountain into his saddle, slung the longsword over his back, and considered himself ready.


    Arthur and Charles each grabbed a dagger, a bow and arrows, and Charles also grabbed a hatchet.


    "What are we going to do? Gotta have a plan, right?" Charles asked, calmly looking at the two confident figures.


    "Simple, I''ll go to the Clinic, pretend to buy medicine and check things out. Stephen, you go check out that Deputy Sheriff in the Sheriff''s office. Charles, you wait outside for us." Arthur stated his plan plainly.


    "We move at midnight, once the door''s open, it''s just three thugs, one for each of us."


    Definitely Arthur''s style ¨C simple and brutal. Stephen thought to himself.


    Or maybe, the real masters are just unskillfully skillful?

 24 - Bounty quest

    Because they were preparing to make their move in the middle of the night, it was still early, so the three of them rode their horses slowly towards Valentine.


    As they were leaving, Pearson, who had already cooked the meal, looked at the three of them with regret, as if lamenting that they wouldn''t be able to eat his carefully prepared stew.


    Stephen, for one, never wanted to eat that stuff again in his life.


    To fill his stomach, he simply grabbed two cans from the camp for dinner.


    The three of them remained silent along the way. Charles was a man of few words; this black guy was usually taciturn, never wasting words if he could use his fists.


    Stephen was thinking about the O''Driscoll gang, his head buried in thought the whole time.


    Arthur, beside him, couldn''t help himself; he wasn''t one to hold his tongue.


    "Hey, Stephen, where were you working as a bounty hunter before?" he asked, looking at Stephen.


    "Strawberry, sometimes wandering around between Valentine and Rhodes. I''ve also been to Blackwater and Saint Denis, but mostly Strawberry," Stephen said, looking at Arthur in surprise. "Why the sudden interest?"


    "Ahem." Arthur coughed twice, a little awkward. "Well, even though you haven''t joined us, you''re still kind of a companion, and we should get to know each other, right?"


    This was actually a task that Dutch had given Arthur. Dutch felt that Arthur had a better relationship with Stephen and wanted him to find out more about this mysterious guy.


    But Arthur wasn''t good at these things, so he just asked directly.


    Stephen didn''t know any of this and just assumed that Arthur was curious about his past. He said with a smile, "There''s not much to tell. Just take on missions, catch criminals, and then spend the money on food, drinks, and wandering around. It''s a dull and boring life."


    "No, that sounds like a good life." Charles, who was riding ahead with his head down, said to Stephen, "Have you ever thought about settling down somewhere?"


    Stephen sighed and said with some melancholy, "I used to think about it, buying a nice farm or something, but I can''t now."


    "Dutch once told me that revenge is a luxury we can''t afford," Arthur said slowly, looking at the distant birds. "Maybe, and I mean maybe, letting go of some things will make your life better."


    "No, that''s impossible," Stephen said through gritted teeth. "This isn''t revenge, this is the judgment those bastards deserve."


    Just thinking about the way Mr. Yake had died so tragically, Stephen couldn''t live peacefully.


    Arthur looked at Stephen''s gloomy face and suddenly laughed. "Maybe we should change to a lighter topic, like, uh, is the wine in Strawberry any good?"


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    "Strawberry is a town that prohibits alcohol. You''ll get arrested for drinking there," Stephen said, somewhat speechlessly.


    What''s up with Arthur? Why does he always bring up topics out of nowhere?


    "My God, that''s a miserable place," Arthur slapped his forehead. "How did such an absurd law get passed?"


    While the three of them were chatting idly, the sky gradually darkened, and they arrived on the outskirts of Valentine.


    "According to the plan, I''ll go check out the Clinic. Stephen, you go to the Sheriff''s office," Arthur said, looking at the increasingly deserted streets.


    "Okay, then I''ll go check the back door," Charles said calmly and led his horse away slowly.


    After temporarily bidding farewell to the two, Stephen led his horse to the Sheriff''s office and boldly pushed open the door and walked in.


    "Sheriff Malloy, do you have any evil that needs to be eradicated lately? I need some jobs that pay well," Stephen shouted towards the sheriff sitting behind the desk as soon as he entered.


    The sheriff looked up, saw Stephen who had returned, and couldn''t help but let out a laugh. "What, is your pocket so empty that you can''t even rest for a few more days?"


    "Ah, don''t even mention it, it''s a nightmare," Stephen said,Îæ×ÅÍ· in a look of pain. "So, any fugitives on the loose recently?"


    "As a matter of fact, there is one." Sheriff Malloy grabbed a piece of paper from the desk and threw it to Stephen.


    "A woman who killed her own mother. Everyone calls her the Black Widow," Sheriff Malloy said. "Bring her back to face trial, and you''ll get a bounty of 25 dollars."


    "And remember, alive! Not! Chopped up and sent back."


    It seems Stephen had left a considerable psychological shadow on the sheriff.


    Stephen picked up the wanted poster from the desk and looked at it.


    "Ellie Annie Swan. Killed her mother, possibly near Cumberland Falls, and has also taken a man hostage. Quite a good prey," Stephen nodded with satisfaction.


    "Don''t worry, I''ll bring her back so you can give her a fair trial," Stephen said confidently.


    "I hope so," Sheriff Malloy stood up and stretched. "I''m off duty now, so you can get lost."


    Stephen looked around casually, then looked at the sheriff with curiosity and asked, "Where''s the Deputy Sheriff, sir? I remember he was the one who arrested me last night..."


    "What, do you want to take revenge on my deputy in front of me, the sheriff?" Malloy¶³öÒ»¸ö²»Ð¼µÄЦÈÝ with a sneer. "Don''t cause trouble in my territory, understand?"


    "Okay, okay, don''t get so excited, sir. I''m just asking, I didn''t say I was going to do anything. I''m still busy making money!" Stephen said, spreading his hands with an innocent look.


    "He took half the deputies on a business trip to the oil refinery. There was a murder case there. So even if you wanted to take revenge, you wouldn''t be able to find him," Sheriff Malloy said with a laugh. "Now get lost, bounty hunter, I''m closing up."


    "Alright, sir, I''m leaving." Stephen said, then turned around and left the Sheriff''s office.


    He led his horse to the entrance of the saloon, tied it to the front door, then entered the bar and greeted Martin behind the counter.


    He asked him to prepare a meal and send it to the private room upstairs, then headed straight for the back door.


    After leaving the saloon through the back door, he followed the small road all the way to the back door of the Clinic. Charles and Arthur were already waiting there.


    "How is it, what''s the situation inside?" Stephen asked, looking at Arthur, who looked relaxed, and Charles, who was calm.


    "An owner and a woman. Can''t see much further inside," Arthur said, holding a bag in his hand. It seemed that he had spent some money to find out.


    Charles pointed to the iron gate in the distance. "I listened at the door for a while, and if I''m not wrong, there should be three people."


    "Very good, the Deputy Sheriff isn''t in town, and the Sheriff''s already off duty. That means as long as we''re careful, no one will stop us," Stephen said with a smile.


    "Then let''s wait a little longer, and make our move when there are fewer people," Arthur decided immediately.


    It seemed tonight would be another sleepless night.

 25 - Bloody Payday

    The three men quickly discussed a plan of action.


    Arthur would knock on the door first, since the owner had already seen his face and wouldn''t be suspicious.


    Then, they would restrain the owner and force him to open the back door, allowing Stephen and Charles to rush in and take care of the fighting with their knives.


    As for Arthur, he would stand guard at the front door, also taking the time to empty the cash from the bar.


    After the plan was successful, the three would go their separate ways and lie low for a couple of days, meeting back at Horseshoe Overlook in three days to split the money.


    The plan was simple and brutal, but effective.


    Things like this were often that way ¨C the more complicated the plan, the easier it was for things to go wrong. It was better to keep it simple.


    The three found a corner and waited until around 10 o''clock before standing up and getting ready to work.


    People in those days didn''t have much in the way of entertainment. Aside from a few customers still drinking at the saloon, most normal folk were already sound asleep.


    They stretched their stiff bodies, grateful that the weather was warming up, or they''d have been frozen solid.


    According to their plan, the three of them made their way quietly to the clinic, which was already dark, as was the Sheriff''s office next door.


    Arthur nodded at the other two, who were hiding by the door. He took a deep breath and put on an expression of anxiety and panic.


    "Doctor! Open up, Doctor! Help!"


    He sounded frantic, but kept his voice down so as not to attract too much attention.


    After a moment, a voice came from inside. "Who is it? I''m closed. If you need medicine, come back tomorrow."


    Arthur gave the others a slight nod to signal that the man inside was the doctor.


    Charles and Stephen drew their weapons, ready for action.


    Arthur continued calling to the doctor, "It''s me! I came in this afternoon for medicine. My brother was bitten by a wolf. Do you remember?"


    There was silence behind the door for a while. Finally, the doctor said slowly, "Oh, I remember, I remember you. What''s wrong? Is there something wrong with the medicine?"


    "I¡­ I tried to stitch up my brother''s wound, but¡­ but he''s bleeding a lot. I need more medicine. I need more to stop the bleeding." Arthur''s voice was hoarse and desperate. Stephen realized then that this guy was a true actor.


    "Good heavens, you stupid farmers!" The doctor exclaimed in despair. He slowly opened the door. "I told you, it''s best to go to the hospital if you''ve been bitten by a wolf! You''ll kill your brother like this!"


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    The doctor''s tone was that of a concerned citizen. He looked at the desperate Arthur and seemed ready to offer words of sympathy.


    Just then Stephen rushed out of the shadows and tackled him to the ground.


    "Mmph! Mmph!" The doctor struggled. Stephen whispered in his ear, "Don''t move, don''t move, or you''re dead."


    Charles and Arthur followed suit and entered the clinic. Arthur quickly closed the door and drew his revolver, standing guard.


    "Dear doctor, you only have one choice now ¨C help us open the back door. Otherwise¡­"


    Stephen''s words sounded like a demon''s whisper in the doctor''s ear. The doctor was terrified and seemed to want to say something.


    "I''m letting you go, but don''t make a sound, or else¡­"


    Stephen took out his long, bloody knife and waved it in front of the doctor''s face. The doctor nodded frantically.


    "I¡­ I''m innocent. They''re all with the O''Driscoll gang. I''m being forced. It''s nothing to do with me!" The doctor looked ready to cry, and appeared utterly pitiful.


    "Oh, we know who they are, which is why we need your help, right?" Stephen continued. "You have no choice. Cooperate, or die."


    The doctor looked at the menacing faces of the three men and nodded helplessly. "Okay, okay, I''ll cooperate."


    Stephen forced the doctor to the back. Charles followed closely behind them, alert. There was an iron door here.


    "Knock, knock, knock."


    The doctor trembled as he knocked on the iron door. After a moment, a small window opened, and someone inside asked impatiently, "What is it?"


    "Tell them the Deputy Sheriff is here, and needs to see them," Stephen whispered.


    The doctor repeated Stephen''s words, his voice shaking. The person inside responded with a few American expletives.


    With a loud "Clang!" the iron door swung open.


    Without hesitation, Stephen slit the doctor''s throat with his long knife, sending him straight to heaven.


    Blood spurted out, immediately staining the pristine white wall crimson.


    The doctor stared at Stephen in disbelief, reaching out a trembling hand as if questioning why he didn''t keep his word.


    Stephen coldly looked at the doctor, and kicked him to the ground.


    The doctor had seen Arthur''s face, and couldn''t be allowed to live.


    Besides, everyone involved with the O''Driscoll gang had to die.


    Charles had already charged inside. Stephen followed close behind.


    There were four people inside ¨C three men and a woman.


    The three men were wearing the green bandanas of the O''Driscoll gang. The woman was dressed in a provocative outfit, clearly a prostitute they had hired.


    The four were dumbfounded by the sudden arrival of the two armed men. They hadn''t even had time to react.


    Charles took the lead, stabbing the nearest man in the chest with his dagger.


    It was only then that the others realized the two men weren''t there for friendly visit.


    They scrambled for their weapons on a nearby sofa, but it was too late.


    Stephen was already upon them.


    His long knife sliced through the air, reflecting a blinding light in the dim lamplight.


    In the blink of an eye, two men frantically trying to raise their guns were sent to hell by Stephen, one stroke each.


    That left the woman. Seeing the terrifying scene before her, she opened her mouth to scream.


    Charles, standing behind Stephen, reached behind to his waist, and pulled out a throwing knife from his holster, it flew from his hand in a shining blur.


    The knife hit the woman''s neck, choking back her scream of terror.


    Charles would not hold back. Root and stem ¨C a complete purge.


    "Done," Stephen said, looking at the five corpses on the floor, and giving a cheerful whistle.


    "Search this place, then let''s get out of here," Charles said calmly, returning his weapon to its sheath.


    Stephen opened a box on the table, smiling. "I told you there''d be a lot of money here."


    Inside the box lay a brand-new Schofield Revolver and a hefty fifty or sixty dollars.


    Arthur, who had been standing guard outside, came in with a smile. "There''s a good amount of cash outside, too ¨C probably close to fifty dollars."


    Seeing the various bags that Arthur had managed to find it was clear that the robbery had found some decent valuables.


    "Arthur, there''s a safe here. Can you crack it?"


    Charles had discovered a safe on the wall, and turned to Arthur to ask. "Of course ¨C it''s what I do best." Arthur chuckled, putting down the bags, and enthusiastically set to work on the safe.


    *This guy can do that too?* Stephen watched, amazed, as Arthur gently manipulated the combination lock.


    It was the first time that he noticed that this apparently boorish strong man was a capable jack-of-all-trades!

 26 - Black Widow

    It had been a long time since such a major case had occurred in town.


    When the five bodies inside the clinic were discovered the next morning, the entire town of Valentine was in an uproar.


    Even more terrifying was that three of the five bodies belonged to members of the notorious O''Driscoll gang.


    People immediately started to discuss whether these despicable gang members were coming back.


    But all of this had nothing to do with Stephen, who was already riding leisurely westward.


    Have to say, Arthur was really versatile; the guy could actually crack a safe!


    In less than three minutes, Arthur had the safe open.


    True to their expectations, they found a full $200 in cash inside the safe!


    Adding what Arthur found at the front desk and in the boxes on the table, they had a total of $300.


    This was no small sum, especially when you compare it to Stephen''s bounty missions; catching a fugitive murderer only paid $25.


    When it came time to divide the money, Arthur directly grabbed a stack of crisp bills and handed it to Stephen.


    Stephen then learned that the Van der Linde gang had rules for splitting the money.


    Half for the gang, half for the individual. All money earned outside was divided this way.


    For example, if they earned $300 this time, $150 would go to the gang first.


    Then, the three of them would split the remaining $150, which meant $50 per person.


    This bizarre distribution method made Stephen want to complain inwardly. The IRS didn''t even collect taxes this aggressively.


    But since he had chosen to cooperate with them, he should respect their method. In the end, Stephen only received a paltry $50.


    But it didn''t matter. Stephen''s purpose for doing this wasn''t to make money.


    After dividing the money, Charles and Arthur went their separate ways, and Stephen strolled back to the saloon.


    After eating dinner, he went to the inn across the street and slept until dawn, before leisurely departing.


    Cumberland Falls, located between Valentine and Strawberry, was part of Stephen''s traditional stomping grounds.


    He knew the area well, so he didn''t need to look at a map; he just rode his horse there.


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    The scenery was quite beautiful.


    Both sides were lush forests, and the wide Dakota River flowed through the middle, dividing the land into two states.


    One was New Hanover, where Valentine was located, and the other was West Elizabeth, where Strawberry belonged.


    The river had a significant drop here, forming a wide waterfall. Stephen carefully rode his horse through the water.


    Standing above the waterfall, he watched the river rush down, creating large swathes of mist below.


    Rising with the mist was a beautiful rainbow, appearing magnificent under the sunlight.


    Looking at such a beautiful scene, Stephen suddenly felt relaxed, and some annoying worries instantly disappeared.


    Indeed, beauty could heal people.


    Crossing the waterfall meant entering the territory of West Elizabeth. If the intelligence was correct, the woman should be hiding somewhere here.


    Following the mountain path downwards, Stephen carefully searched through the forest.


    The forest was nice. It wasn''t like the forests to the north, where there were dangerous beasts and difficult terrain.


    Nor was it like Rhodes, humid and hot, full of snakes, insects, and rodents, which made people irritated.


    This was an important reason why Stephen liked staying in Strawberry.


    Stephen searched all day long, but couldn''t find any satisfactory clues. So he simply set up camp by the river and rested.


    That¡¯s how bounty hunting went, catching a person often took just a few minutes, but finding the person could take several days.


    Stephen took out his small pot, boiled some water, then took out his weapons and slowly cleaned his gun and knife.


    These things were precious and had to be taken care of.


    Otherwise, if something went wrong at a crucial moment, he could lose his life.


    Stephen had been searching in this area for three days. Finally, on the evening of the third day, he found a trace.


    "A woman''s clothes, hehe, where are you running now?" Stephen picked up the woman''s shorts on the ground, and muttered with a smile.


    He carefully parted the grass on the ground, searching for traces in the vicinity.


    Finally, by the river, he found a row of footprints.


    Now that he had found footprints, everything was simple.


    Stephen followed the direction of the footprints, moving forward step by step. Finally, in a cave not far away, he discovered a light.


    Following his habits, he grabbed his long knife with his right hand and his revolver with his left, and crept closer to the cave.


    "I read in the newspaper they say you''re a black widow¡­"


    Just as Stephen approached the cave, a timid male voice entered his ears.


    "What does that mean? Those people are just spreading rumors. You don''t have to listen to them."


    Then came a female voice, she said loudly, defending herself: "You''re my love, how could I kill you?"


    "I believe you, but¡­"


    "There are no ''buts.''" The woman was clearly annoyed.


    Confirmed, this woman was his target. Stephen came out.


    "Hehehe, the play is over." Stephen held up his long knife and gave the two a smile.


    "Damn it, a bounty hunter! Kill him!" The woman recognized Stephen the moment she saw him and knew why he was here.


    She directly shouted at the man next to her, trying to get him to draw his gun and kill Stephen.


    The man hesitated.


    He looked at the woman, then at Stephen, and actually turned to the woman and said, "You should go back with him. Running away like this¡­"


    Stephen looked at the man with curiosity. In this day and age, there were not many people who were so law-abiding.


    "Damn it, men are so unreliable!" The woman roared angrily, then suddenly pulled out a knife and stabbed the man next to her.


    "Woah." Stephen was shocked. He immediately raised his gun and shot the woman in the leg.


    Fortunately, the distance between the two was not too far, and Stephen reacted quickly. The shot hit the woman''s thigh.


    The intense pain deformed the woman''s movement, and her fatal blow to her lover only scratched his back.


    Stephen quickly stepped forward, took out his rope from behind, and tied the woman up tightly.


    The man was still in shock. He looked at the blood flowing from his back, his face full of disbelief.


    Looking at the distraught man, Stephen uttered a profound truth.


    "Indeed, a woman''s heart is the most poisonous thing there is."

 27 - A Little Shock

    "Looks like you''re as efficient as ever."


    Sheriff Malloy, looking exhausted, glanced at the woman on the ground, then at Stephen''s smiling face, and said with a hint of helplessness.


    "I hope you can tell me you had nothing to do with the clinic murder a few days ago." Stephen spread his hands, looking innocent. "Clinic? What about the clinic?"


    "Heh, don''t play dumb, I know you did it, kid." Sheriff Malloy gritted his teeth. "Throat slit with one cut, I only know one person who can do that."


    "Don''t be like that, Sheriff." Stephen plopped down in the chair opposite the sheriff. "You don''t have any evidence, do you?"


    "I don''t, but I can arrest you directly. I think whips and sticks will loosen your tongue."


    Seeing the sheriff''s dark expression as he looked at Stephen, as if he were about to pounce, Stephen burst out laughing.


    "Mr. Sheriff, if there''s nothing else, I''ll be going now." Stephen turned to leave.


    He took two steps, then turned back, extending his hand towards the sheriff. "Oh, my bounty. I almost forgot to collect it."


    The sheriff gritted his teeth as he looked at Stephen, but there was nothing he could do. He reluctantly pulled a few bills from the drawer and tossed them on the table.


    "Take it and go, and remember, don''t let me catch you."


    "Instead of focusing on me, you should focus on the O''Driscoll gang. They''re not a good bunch to deal with."


    Stephen offered the sheriff a heartfelt warning, then left.


    The sheriff was left alone, his expression shifting, lost in thought.


    Stephen walked out of the Sheriff''s office and looked up at the clear sky, suddenly feeling directionless.


    He wanted to continue tracking the O''Driscoll gang, but didn''t know where to start.


    Those guys, like the Van der Linde gang now, were hiding in the wilderness. The west was so big, who knew where to find them?


    The only possible lead was the Deputy Sheriff on assignment at the oil refinery.


    But that guy had taken half the police force with him.


    That''s a problem. If he tried to assassinate the gang members, he''d have to wipe out all the cops first.


    Otherwise, if word got out, he''d be in serious trouble.


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    He was just a bounty hunter, not a notorious wanted man. Best not to be too reckless.


    Stephen thought and thought, but couldn''t come up with a foolproof plan. Finally, he gave up.


    He stood on the street, looking at the bustling scene, feeling disconnected, not really wanting to go back to Horseshoe Overlook.


    Then he remembered he wanted to buy a camera. Why not find a place to buy one now that he had some free time?


    Livestock town Valentine certainly didn''t have anything that fancy. Blackwater and Saint Denis were the only big towns nearby.


    Having made his decision, Stephen led his horse straight to the Livestock town Valentine train station and bought a ticket to Blackwater.


    He was in luck. Just as Stephen finished buying his ticket, a slow-moving train chugged into the station.


    Stephen led his horse to the livestock car. These days, trains had special cars for transporting animals.


    After settling his horse in, he relaxed in the luxurious passenger car.


    Trains in this era weren''t exactly comfortable.


    The slow speed, the deafening noise, and the billowing smoke spewing out as the train moved forward made the massive machine seem like a terrifying beast.


    Everywhere the train went, all non-human creatures were frightened into fleeing.


    Anything that stood in its path would be mercilessly crushed or sent flying.


    Where the train went, human civilization followed.


    Stephen bought two newspapers to pass the time, and the first headline gave him a little Western shock.


    "Dutch Van der Linde and his Van der Linde gang Robbed a Train."


    Stephen knew about this, but he was shocked by the next sentence.


    "Combined with the $150,000 they stole in Blackwater, this criminal gang has become a cancer on American society."


    Stephen knew Arthur and the boys had gotten into trouble in Blackwater. But whenever he asked about it, they were always vague.


    So he hadn''t paid much attention, assuming they''d just killed someone or robbed a few stores.


    Only now did he realize how capable these guys were...


    $150,000! What did that even mean?


    Stephen had wanted to buy a ranch for a couple thousand bucks. $150,000 was enough to buy a small town.


    So what were these guys even doing? They already had so much money, why not retire and live it up?


    Stephen couldn''t understand it. Surely, they hadn''t left the money behind?


    Stephen immediately shook his head. Impossible. Nobody could be that stupid.


    Anyone with that much money would never let it go, no matter what.


    Unless they didn''t like money, or even despised it.


    That was too rare. He didn''t think those guys in the Van der Linde gang were like that.


    The train chugged along. Stephen started feeling sleepy from the noise.


    He put the newspaper over his head and drifted off to sleep.


    Since becoming this damn bounty hunter, he''d gotten used to sleeping in any situation.


    That night, as the train slowly crossed Bards Crossing bridge, about to stop at Riggs Station on the other side, a group of men silently climbed aboard.


    They crept along the roof and into the driver''s cab.


    "Damn it, who are you people?!"


    The driver looked at the dark figures rushing in and grabbed his rifle.


    But it was too late. The first man shot the driver point blank, then pulled the emergency brake.


    The train screeched to a halt, sending sparks flying from the rails. Passengers were thrown forward and onto the floor of the cars by the sudden inertia.


    Stephen was no exception.


    He got up, rubbing his back, and turned to look out the window.


    A group of men in black clothes, with green scarves around their necks, charged towards the train on horseback.


    These guys were yelling strange cries, shooting their guns into the air, seemingly trying to scare the passengers.


    "Talk about getting what you wanted. I did''t think you''d make it so easy for me to catch up with you." Stephen suddenly felt excited.


    He turned around, kicking aside the fallen passengers, and ran quickly toward the livestock car.


    Weapons weren''t allowed on the train, so all his gear was on his horse.


    He had to get to his weapons.

 28 - Train Heist Gone Wrong

    "Bang, bang, bang!"


    "Hurry up, you idiots! Hand over all your money!"


    A burly man in black, wearing a green bandana, charged onto the train, waving two revolvers.


    Seeing this, the passengers knew they''d hit the jackpot - in a bad way.


    Train robberies were nothing new in the West.


    The man fired three shots into the ceiling of the train, silencing the screams stuck in everyone¡¯s throats.


    He looked at the terrified people before him, letting out two triumphant laughs.


    "Go on, search them and take all their money and jewelry. Don''t leave a single copper!" he ordered his two henchmen.


    At his command, the two men behind him went to work. One carried a sack, the other gripped a rifle.


    Working efficiently, they quickly filled their bag.


    "One of you stay here and watch them, don''t let them run. We''re moving on to the next car."


    There were more than just these few involved in the robbery. Almost every car had a few members of the O''Driscoll gang.


    These guys were absolutely reckless. It wasn¡¯t just about stealing money; anyone who resisted got a bullet.


    They even spotted a few pretty female passengers and immediately made plans to take them along for the ride.


    The train became a scene of misery. Many wanted to jump off and escape, but some of the bandits were guarding both sides of the train.


    They were riding horses, and anyone who jumped was met with a gunshot.


    They even had a dark sense of humor, shooting the ground beneath people¡¯s feet, making them dance in terror.


    Such vile behavior filled everyone with seething rage, but they were too afraid to speak out.


    Stephen was hiding in the livestock car at the back of the train, arming himself one weapon at a time.


    Then he untied his horse and opened the door. He moved stealthily toward the front.


    He wasn''t running away. This was an opportunity, and if he didn''t seize it, who knew when he''d get another chance to deal with these scum.


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    He drew his blade and moved along the train.


    The next car was filled with passengers'' luggage. Three guys were rummaging through piles of clothes, desperately looking for anything valuable.


    Closer now, one of the bandits tossed aside a bag, muttering "penniless," and headed toward the back of the car.


    As he passed a pile of junk, a glint of cold steel flashed behind him.


    In that instant, he thought he saw his own back, then the ceiling of the train, and then he closed his eyes forever.


    As the bandit''s head and body fell separately to the ground, the other two were alerted by the strange noise.


    "Mark, what''s going on?" one of them called out.


    "Oh, I just tripped, I¡¯m fine," a muffled voice replied.


    Hearing this, the bandits laughed mockingly: "Haha, did you find something good? That''s hilarious."


    "Yeah, found something really good."


    The muffled voice was of course Stephen. He covered his mouth with his arm, drawing their attention as he moved toward them.


    "What¡¯s so good? Let us have a look," the two said, still laughing, as they walked over.


    "I found your heads!"


    Seeing his chance, Stephen exploded into action. His sword flashed in the air.


    In a single stroke, he slit the throat of the first man!


    The one behind was taken by surprise. Before he could react, the car was down to him and Stephen.


    He opened his mouth to shout, but the blood-stained sword at his neck choked back his scream.


    "Tell me, how many of you are there?"


    Stephen asked coldly, pressing the blade a little harder against his neck, cutting a small gash.


    Feeling the pain, the man frantically begged for his life: "I''ll tell you, I''ll tell you everything. There are about thirty of us, led by boss James."


    "Where''s Colm?"


    "I-I don¡¯t know." As soon as the man said it, Stephen pressed the blade harder.


    The man burst into tears: "I swear I don''t know. Colm isn''t with us..."


    Stephen brought the blade down, sending the unfortunate soul to his grave.


    James, Stephen had heard of him. He was a famous general under Colm, and a ruthless killer.


    Interesting, Stephen smiled. He gripped his sword and moved forward once more.


    By now, the robbery was nearing completion. These O''Driscolls were professional, you had to give them that.


    With their division of labor, it didn''t take long for them to loot everything of value on the train.


    They even picked out several pretty women, tying them up with ropes, clearly planning to take them back to "enjoy" later.


    The leader, a guy named James, walked slowly to the side of the train, surrounded by his men.


    "Hurry up, we need to move. We''re getting too close to Blackwater. If we don''t move, the marshals will be here."


    At his command, the men loaded the stolen goods onto their horses.


    They''d had a good haul, each bag full to bursting.


    "Everyone accounted for? Let¡¯s go."


    James waved his hand, ready to turn his horse around and retreat when a huge gunshot blew his head clean off!!


    Everyone froze in shock...


    What the hell was going on? Where did that shot come from? How could their boss just die like that?


    The O''Driscolls stood there dumbfounded, not knowing what to do.


    Should they run? Or avenge their boss?


    The shot, of course, had been fired by Stephen.


    He didn¡¯t know who he was shooting, he just saw that guy surrounded by a bunch of others with torches all around him. Figured he must be in charge.


    His right hand worked the bolt quickly, his eye fixed on the front sight of the rifle, focused on another man.


    Another shot rang out, and the head of the man he was aiming at exploded.


    He had to say, this lever-action was the best. So much better than his old Springfield Rifle.


    As Stephen worked the action and fired rapidly, three shots in quick succession, the O''Driscolls finally reacted.


    They spotted Stephen on the roof of the car and raised their weapons to return fire.


    Stephen waved cheerfully at them, then threw himself backward, disappearing inside the car.

 29 - Bloodbath

    Stephen could''ve easily made a run for it.


    His white horse was a beauty, far superior to the nags these thugs were riding.


    He could''ve left them in the dust in no time.


    What made him stay wasn''t some noble cause; he simply wasn''t about to let these bastards off the hook.


    He crouched behind a row of crates, quickly reloading his rifle.


    They were coming, already firing blindly towards his position.


    Luckily, this was a freight car with no other passengers, or they''d be catching stray bullets.


    Four of them, bunched together. Stephen peered through the gaps in the cargo, getting a clear view of their positions.


    "What a bunch of losers," Stephen muttered, shaking his head.


    No wonder Dutch didn''t think much of the O''Driscoll gang; they were a sorry lot.


    Any fool knows you don''t bunch up in a firefight, but these guys were practically hugging.


    Seeing their cooperation, Stephen figured it was time to bring out the trench sweeper.


    He gently tossed the rifle''s sling over his left shoulder, where it rested comfortably.


    Then, with a flick of his right shoulder, a classic and brutal long gun appeared in his hands.


    A Pump-Action Shotgun, Winchester Model 1897.


    This shotgun, only two years old, was the ultimate close-quarters weapon of its time, and perhaps even the next.


    Loaded with six rounds, it was more than enough to send these guys to hell.


    Stephen took a deep breath, preparing himself.


    Bullets whizzed overhead, cargo was being knocked around, but Stephen didn''t flinch.


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    He had chosen his spot carefully; the crates behind him were filled with ore, impervious to bullets.


    Before long, the firing stopped as the enemies guns ran empty.


    Not surprising; they were all using lever-action rifles, similar in spec.


    Taking advantage of their frantic reloading, Stephen sprang to his feet.


    The shotgun roared, spitting fire and buckshot.


    Stephen squeezed the trigger repeatedly, while his left hand quickly pumped the action.


    Six shells, loaded with pellets, swept across the car in less than two seconds.


    The four fools were turned into sieves almost instantly.


    This Pump-Action Shotgun earned the nickname ¡°trench sweeper¡± because of what would happen when you held down the trigger!!


    It was a case of the left hand moving as quickly as you could !


    Sadly, there were only six rounds.


    As he stood there wishing there were more bullets in his pump-action Shotgun, more enemies began to pile in !


    He drew his Schofield Revolver from his holster and shot them to oblivion.


    Then he lept from the train carriage and rolled under the train for cover !


    "He is underneath the train!"


    "Block him !!"


    Two O''Driscoll gang members leaped from the train carriage but it was too late, it was too dark to see anything


    Stephen scurried towards the front of the train to get away


    He remebered these old skills and moved to get further up the train, when he got to the next passenger carraige he slipped up to the window. The passengers screemed in terror!


    "Hey anybody want to help?"


    Stephen pulled the Springfield Rifle but nobody was willing


    "Losers!"


    "I''ll help!"


    Stephen turned to see who volunteered. It was a lady.


    "This is not play miss, its a deadly serious task"


    The woman had blond hair with a nice white face. but there was an unusual burning sense of spirit in the ladies face.


    "Give me that sword" she stated referring to Stephen''s sword


    Stephen wondered why she wanted a sword.


    She pulled the sword and slliced her long dress. She started to rip her own dress when done "this stupid dress is done !" and picked up Stephen''s rifle. A sense of power changed in the air


    From the skill she loaded the rifle with. This woman was ready to battle!


    "Get up top and cover me" I will try to keep them back. Stephen explained pointing at the top of the carraige.


    The woman understood without question and vaulted up to the top carraige and jumped to get herself ontop.


    Two of the gang members piled in. Trying to bust into the carraige.


    Stephen started shooting right away. Landing a bullet in one of them who was crawling into the carraige causing him to scream.


    The last one jumped away. Firing rounds from his cover


    Bullets smashing across the side of the cart. Stephen ran and did a whistle.


    Stephen whistled, A white steed cam speeding from the plains ready to save Stephen from the coming demise, the two gang members followed right after.


    Stephen mounted the steed. He fell off one side of the saddle making himself an impossibe target and pulled the reigns


    As the stead came closer he yanked the steed up and jumped off the animal while drawing both revolvers to fire and take out all that remained !


    As he shot down a couple of the outlaws. He heard a familiar springfield rifle shot from above


    The mystery girl with the steely aim had taken out another outalw


    Wow ! He thought! She a good aim

 30 - Bloodbath2

    With no time for pleasantries, a fresh wave of attacks surged the moment the white horse landed.


    There wasn''t a moment to reload in this situation.


    One guy, howling some weird, unearthly noise, charged directly at Stephen.


    Stephen chucked the Schofield Revolver in his right hand straight at the charging man, slamming it into his forehead and sending him staggering backward.


    He then drew his long knife from his back, and with a quick flick of the wrist, the blade danced across the attacker, sending him to meet his maker.


    Meanwhile, his left-hand Schofield Revolver was carefully returned to its holster.


    A gift from Mr. Yake, it needed to be looked after.


    The white horse galloped on, the remaining attackers seemingly unwilling to accept defeat, scrambled onto their mounts to give chase.


    So many against one, and they¡¯d taken so many casualties, how would the O''Driscoll gang ever hold their heads up high out west after this?


    But Stephen had no intention of running. He yanked on the reins, pulling a tight turn back toward the train.


    The train stretched out, car after car. Stephen tugged again, and the white horse zipped deftly between two cars.


    The attackers tried to follow suit, one after another attempting to leap the gap.


    But Stephen was already there, the Pump-Action Shotgun raised and ready.


    The gaps between the cars were narrow, the attackers bunched together ¨C perfect conditions for a shotgun.


    With a deafening blast, another two unlucky souls were turned into mincemeat.


    At that very moment, the woman clinging to the roof of the train decided it was her moment, and joined the fight, and began opening fire.


    Out of options the outlaws split their forces and a small detachment headed towards her to neutralise the threat.


    This band of O''Driscoll gang, over thirty strong at the beginning, had been whittled down by Stephen to barely a dozen.


    And now, dividing their forces to deal with the woman on the roof was only furthering the damage and frustration.


    More worrisome for the gang however, many of the passengers who were up until now quivering wrecks had started to come to their senses.


    As two bandits clambered onto the train, preparing to fire at Stephen through the windows, the terrified passengers rose, suddenly changing direction and tackling their attackers.


    The passengers may not have carried weaponry, but in that era of the west one never truly knew if a person would fight.


    They may not have dared to face the bandits head-on, but ganging up on them while they were down seemed to spark courage.


    Enormous courage.


    And, with the attackers pinned under multiple passengers they swiftly met their end.


    Several others, boasting themselves of their keen aim soon took up the weapons and took potshots from within the relative safety of the carriages towards the remainder of the gang.


    The passenger''s surprise and willingness to fight allowed Stephen some much needed space.


    The white horse danced between the train carriages, like a graceful apparition between reality and somewhere otherworldly.


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    Meanwhile the gang of outlaws flailed in it''s wake looking red in the face.


    Yet the roof woman, found herself confronting her doom! With Three men soon within reaching distance.


    Seeing that one bandit had made strides to ascend the carriage roof.


    Snapping with an instant ferocity She swung up her Rifle and fired point-blank! only for the trigger to snap on thin air with no bullet to give.


    Quickly the women furiously reloaded, but the Rifle snagged at every step!


    An angries cry, later followed by looking up and beholding the sight of the three Outlaws the women gripped to rifle by the end of the stock and begun spinning, as if pre-empting it''s use as a improvised blunt melee weapon.


    With all her voice the women yelled with power, "Huzzah!"


    Before violently descending and spinning directly towards two startled bandits!


    Only shortly after did a heavy clang emit from the body, after it became suddenly clear one Outlaw has fallen flat from one hard blow to the dome piece!


    The Stock alone of many Rifles could often leave a man feeling sore in their entirety. Let alone a head to head hit! leaving much of his strength.


    But before one more swing of the Rifle and an inevitable KO a the two. More bodies became visible ascending and the first Outlaw grappled in for an grapple!


    After seeing his comrade struggling with keeping distance from a brutal swing to the head the first Bandit aimed with his handgun, as only one would think to to in a moment of intense combat, to stop at only a short distance by flailing limbs.


    "Damn It, stop being useless! fight em head-on!"


    Screamed the lead thug, Before promptly understanding and aiding.


    Unwilled to let the Outlaw grasp a firm hand, and instead use any advantage from it''s place to disorientate the bandits grip! the women arched their upper bodies! making any grasp useless and disbalanced. Following up, and planting both feet square on one thug before proceeding to fly.


    After seeing that he would now provide as much padding for one thieving bandit of O''Driscoll! did she throw her shoulders from left to right on the flat roofing.


    Leaving the bandit groggy, her now-limp feet lifted! Now gave room for the bandit whom was flying to grasp her waist! and toss forward back over her shoulders! only for it to connect square in his chin!


    Seizing the opening and now-disorientated enemy''s, the woman gripped both Rifle hands before bashing it onto one head like a steel drum! The bandit''s head instantly becoming akin to mashed potatoes and leaving it laying flat to rest in defeat.


    With an out of place groan! she sees the flying bandit stand over and over himself, before eventually making eye contact with only but a swing the downed thug''s get back in it place


    There had soon lie 3 downed Outlaws, as if out-witted by the tenacity of one, angry woman!


    This incident gave room for the many more bandits to decide of one''s survival instinct! and sprint for their horses, and flee with an haste unseen by these towns ever.


    "Will the thieves truly escape, if allowed!?"


    Echo''d, as gunshots could be heard near the plains. It did become known that all those involved in robbery will soon rest underneath it all!


    After what was akin to some act of justice! with those bandits falling one by one it became known there a great riders behind this sudden and vicious act.


    Shortly did those horseback men turn! wielding Rifles of the old age, as they all darted swiftly one by one into each stragglers.


    As those said group did comprise of some Livestock Valentine policemen, along with many others working the badge with any bountiful reward! they certainly were ready and willing!


    And after some slow glances behind a sudden ignition came forth from the barrel! as Stephen had seen, was currently enjoying a cigarette break.


    Even seeing the aftermath the sheriffs had seemed assured! most if not, some were not made to last from it at first glance, so every advantage and catch-up that did fall would only speed up time it has took already!


    ¡°My Rifle¡¯s completely busted, so don¡¯t wait too long! and it¡¯ll be there the same way it was with me."


    And after such remarks, followed by standing still on the passenger train one can see the Russian! that took arms on that sad fateful robbery.


    There and after would she take a long perch, and make it''s leg dance from the roofing for the very plains to see!


    ¡°Though, perhaps that is not the way a woman should handle¡­ Such matters for decency¡±. Remarked Stephan, hoping not to startle for some poor women who may never escape the horrors of such violence.


    As quickly would she change attitude! a roar and loud sound emitted and shivers that even reach over the roofing as the woman did laugh


    ¡°Did my attitude or appearance scare you friend!? Because a date with one good pal ain¡¯t ever gonna push one from sharin some good ol company.¡±


    Shortly later Stephan seems out of place but remains collected for many to talk with.


    As she begun a new attitude would she offer "So what might call on those long travel routes, and even that gorgeous, well I better leave the comments for other places" spoke as she would with the same vigor, even to see a face of surprise from one not ready and so suddenly introduced.


    The passenger, that came by name from "Maria Ivanov From Russia" Was certainly set and more then eager for the plains up here, perhaps one day Stephan will learn from her antics and become happy with some like, but until he is more familiar with the road and company


    ¡°The Names Stephen, uh, Stephen Jonhson¡­ and really, a hunter¡­ if ya want me, y''all got to call someone¡±

 31 - Owe You One

    As the dust settled, a sliver of dawn crept over the horizon.


    On the nearby train, passengers were celebrating their escape, and the rescued women wept with relief.


    Stephen, atop his horse, stretched languidly, facing the sunrise.


    What a night!


    He was uninjured but worn out. Thankfully, he''d slept along the way, so his spirit remained quite full.


    "Ha! I knew someone would have the guts to take on the O''Driscoll gang! It''s you, kid."


    A man in a Sheriff''s uniform approached. Stephen dismounted to greet him.


    "Sheriff Sam! Are you on duty at Riggs Station today?" Stephen greeted him with a smile.


    Sheriff Sam, from Strawberry, and Stephen had a good working relationship due to their professions.


    They were good, having cooperated many times, almost comrades.


    "Yep, happened to be patrolling around Riggs Station last night and stayed the night."


    Sheriff Sam chuckled. "Looks like it wouldn''t have mattered if I had or not."


    "Nonsense! Your timing was impeccable." Stephen said with smile.


    American law enforcement always tends to arrive late, once the crime has ended, that has become the custom.


    Sheriff Sam had elevated their average response time with arriving just before the case had ended.


    Sheriff Sam picked up on Stephen''s meaning. He laughed, "I was coming as soon as I heard the gunfire, but I couldn''t just charge in with a few deputies. That would be irresponsible."


    "I understand," Stephen said, shrugging.


    "So, where are you headed?" Sheriff Sam produced a pack of cigarettes, offering Stephen one.


    Stephen accepted, lit it, took a satisfying drag, and said, "I''m exhausted, thinking of a vacation in Blackwater."


    "That doesn''t sound like you." Sheriff Sam grinned. "A guy like you takes vacations?"


    "Why not?" Stephen asked, feigning hurt. "I''m human, too. I need a break, you know."


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    "Then go. Good time to relax." Sheriff Sam inhaled deeply. "Things have been rough recently. With the Blackwater mess, we''re on high alert here."


    "The Van der Linde gang''s job?" Stephen asked curiously.


    Sheriff Sam nodded, looking weary. "Those guys are crazy. Not only did they steal $150,000, but they also caused a massacre in Blackwater. Dozens are dead that I know of."


    "And those were just civilians, cops, Pinkertons, and bounty hunters. The casualties among those guys are much higher."


    Stephen smoked in silence.


    Sheriff Sam took out a stack of small cards, then a pen, scribbled on one, and handed it to Stephen.


    "What''s this?" Stephen asked, taking the card, and seeing the words, "Transit Permit".


    "Blackwater''s crawling with cops and Pinkertons. Everyone going in and out is being checked." Sheriff Sam smirked. "Without that, someone like you won''t get in."


    He gestured to Stephen''s long knife and rifle, implying that carrying them would draw extra scrutiny.


    "I''m the Sheriff of Strawberry, so being from the same state, my permits have some weight in Blackwater."


    "Thanks." Stephen nodded. "I owe you one."


    "Forget it. Just cut me a deal on a future bounty. Our dear Mayor won''t allocate much funds for crime fighting due to his tourist town plans." The sheriff threw up his hands in resignation.


    As they spoke, the cleanup wrapped up, and the mounted police led away the remaining bandits.


    "Oh, and when you get back, interrogate them for me. See if any of them know where Colm is." Stephen clapped the sheriff on the shoulder.


    "Alright, I''ll keep an ear out." Sheriff Sam waved goodbye and left.


    Watching the police depart with their captives, Stephen prepared to leave too.


    He spurred his horse to action and no sooner when Maria Ivanova caught up with him.


    "Hey, give me an address, and I''ll send you a new gun when I get back." She called to Stephen''s back.


    "Strawberry. Just send it to Strawberry." Stephen shouted back without turning around, and galloped off.


    The train couldn''t reach Blackwater; after Riggs Station, he had to ride a long way.


    Stephen rode his horse slowly across the Dakota River.


    That river marked the border between Strawberry and Blackwater. Crossing it meant he was in Blackwater territory.


    Blackwater was the largest town in these parts of the state besides Saint Denis.


    Connected to the Flat Iron Lake, Blackwater linked to Mexico in the south, and he could even travel the waterways all the way to the Pacific.


    The sprawling waterways had made it the freight center of the West, and merchant ships arrived daily.


    But now, the bustling town was thick with tension.


    Stephen barely crossed the river before several patrolling cops swarmed him.


    Seeing Stephen''s long guns, they surrounded him immediately.


    "This is a transit permit signed by the Strawberry Sheriff. I''m a good guy."


    Facing the nervous cops pointing their guns at him, Stephen reluctantly raised his hands.


    "I have a permit. It''s in my shirt pocket. I''m using my left hand to slowly take it out."


    Under the cops'' gaze, he pulled out Sheriff Sam''s permit and proof of his bounty hunter identity.


    A leading cop walked over slowly, cautiously checked the documents, then relaxed and waved for his partners to lower their weapons.


    "There''s been a horrendous massacre in Blackwater, so we have to be careful."


    The man locked eyes with Stephen and asked with a firm voice, "What''s your purpose in Blackwater?"


    "Vacation." Stephen answered without hesitation. "Bounty hunters need rest too, so I wanted to find a lively place to enjoy a drink."


    The cop studied Stephen intensely. Seeing no obvious signs of trouble, he waved to let him pass.

 32 - Blackwater

    After another stretch of road, Stephen finally arrived on the outskirts of Blackwater. He knew he had arrived at his destination.


    The style here was vastly different from the Heartlands. Everywhere he looked was parched earth. The wind whipped up dust storms, forcing Stephen to pull up his bandana to cover his nose and mouth.


    The sparse vegetation consisted mostly of low shrubs. It felt like the legendary Wild West he''d heard about.


    Stephen had been to Blackwater once before, chasing down an escaped convict, but that was it.


    He wasn''t fond of the environment around Blackwater. It was just too desolate for his liking.


    He rode along the riverbank for a while until he finally saw the shadows of buildings in the distance.


    He''d reached Blackwater. Instead of endless wilderness, he was surrounded by houses, farms, and ranches.


    Unlike the filthy, dung-filled Valentine, Blackwater was thriving.


    Blue cobblestones paved the streets, and the horses'' hooves rang out on them with a "clippety-clop".


    This made the town exceptionally clean and tidy compared to Valentine.


    Being a port city, it had everything: movie theaters, photography studios, clothing stores, all of it.


    The pedestrians strolling along the streets were elegantly dressed. Men wore smart suits, and women sported fancy dresses and carried parasols. It was obvious that these were the wealthy elite.


    Of course, there were plenty of working stiffs, but even they looked relatively clean compared to those in other places.


    One thing stood out, though: there wasn''t a single person of color in sight.


    No black people, no Asians, no Native Americans.


    Blackwater had a serious problem with racial discrimination compared to other towns, which was another reason Stephen didn''t like it.


    Contrasting the prosperity, there was also a palpable tension in the air.


    Police officers stood guard at nearly every intersection, and Pinkerton detectives in long coats questioned passersby one by one.


    To avoid trouble, Stephen had stashed all his weapons under his saddle.


    He''d already been questioned several times along the way.


    Stephen found a decent stable and prepared to hand over his horse for a full massage and a good feeding.


    Maybe it was the loving care of the stable owner in Valentine that had won her over, because she didn''t resist entering the stable at all.


    Without needing to be led, she clip-clopped her way inside.


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    As usual, the white mare drew gasps of admiration from the stable owner, who repeatedly asked Stephen how much he''d sell her for.


    Stephen still refused. Over the last several months she had become invaluable.


    Whether for traveling long distances or reacting in dangerous situations, she was top-notch.


    The owner shook his head with a sigh, saying this horse could easily fetch over $1000, and hoped Stephen might reconsider.


    After settling his precious girl, Stephen left the stable and strolled down the street.


    He decided to find a saloon to relax for a bit, then look for a place to buy a camera.


    He hadn''t forgotten why he was here.


    He walked in the first saloon he could find that looked respectable.


    The bar inside looked quite high end, reminiscent of the boutique restaurants back home.


    Stephen ordered a light meal and as he finished he purchased a couple of beers, and sat at the bar chatting casually with the bartender.


    In the course of their conversation, Stephen learned quite a bit about the Van der Linde gang in Blackwater.


    The bartender mentioned the police had publicly killed one of the Van der Linde gang members and left his body hanging outside town for days.


    The body was recently taken down but buried hastily by the police. There wasn''t a prayer.


    Bounty hunters also caught a redhead and stuck him in the jail on the north side of town. Word has it they are set to hang him in a few days.


    Those must be Sean MacGuire and Mac Callander.


    Stephen had heard Arthur talk about those two, often expressing sympathy for them.


    He''d even said he wanted to do everything possible to save them, if the need presented itself.


    Looks like that wasn¡¯t ever going to be possible. One''s already dead. And the other is in jail, soon to be hanged.


    Looks like Arthur won¡¯t ever be close to Blackwater.


    Stephen decided he wasn¡¯t interested in trying to save that unfortunate fella about to be hanged. It wasn¡¯t his gig.


    "So, is there anywhere in town to buy a camera?" Stephen casually slipped the bartender a couple of bills for a tip.


    The promise of such a generous tip made the bartender even more enthusiastic.


    "Sure thing, head down the street over there, and you¡¯ll find a Kodak shop. They''re selling the newest cameras. It¡¯s small, fits in your pocket.


    "When you''re done taking pictures, you can mail them the film, and they''ll develop them for you and package them up to be sent back," he elaborated.


    "That convenient, huh?'''' Stephen asked, intrigued, "Gotta figure that comes with a big price tag.¡±


    The bartender responded as if it was just a matter of fact, ¡°Sure does! But they''d say that comes from using the newest tech along with the best services out there."


    "My boss even bought one! Ever since he purchased that camera he goes around in circles around Blackwater, looking to become some famous photographer,¡±


    The bartender shrugged, resigned, and said, "But to me? He''s just a businessman with money on his mind. All I see is his hunger for riches and being cheap! No art in there! None!"


    Stephen half listened to the bartender''s ranting about his boss while looking out at the rain, he suddenly felt relaxed.


    The sky was opening up with torrential rainfall in June!


    After a boom of thunder in the distance, people scrambled for cover, dodging the massive puddles gathering in the street.


    A decent pub was a decent shelter.


    Before he knew it, the saloon started filling with folks getting away from the streets.


    As people stumbled in the bar tender couldn¡¯t help himself from cracking a huge grin.


    As long as they were inside he knew they would buy something,


    It wasn''t a hard sell, they¡¯re all adults after all, it isn¡¯t really up for debate.


    The bartender then forced himself on folks peddling all sorts of drinks and food until his hand he used to get tips was worn numb.


    Stephen noticed how crazy the streets looked as they cleared out with heavy rainfall, He felt the urge to sit down somewhere inside for awhile


    Stephen was still getting sober but was feeling better and had a more pleasant feeling that lingered since arriving.


    He stumbled and staggered upwards into the 21 table game section when he heard a commotion and the dealing of the deck. Stephen sat on a corner side with a seat opening and threw in the dice for the table action.


    Sadly with multiple bursts from both decks, Stephen called the game a joke after a burst series of busts and cashed out what he threw into the pot originally


    He said ¡°Okay, Sleep¡­¡±


    He took himself to his bed inside a room, turned with a soft flip on to his gut, and then went face diving hard into the dark until morning arrived.

 33 - A Peculiar Commission

    Stephen slept soundly until noon the next day.


    It was a comfortable sleep, and when Stephen opened his eyes, the rain had stopped.


    The rain was perfectly timed, dissipating all the heat in the air, and the cool air made him feel refreshed.


    Stephen took a comfortable bath, had lunch downstairs, and then left the tavern under the reluctant gaze of the bartender.


    No other reason, Stephen''s tips were just too generous.


    Following the directions given by the bartender yesterday, Stephen quickly found the camera shop.


    "Kodak Cameras, capturing your beautiful life."


    Stephen smiled at the slogan at the door of the store, then pushed the door open and walked in.


    "Hello, sir, how can I help you?"


    As soon as he entered, a person dressed very artistically greeted him gracefully.


    A tall hat, a mustache curled high on both sides, and a red and green suit. Even in later generations, the clothes would be considered extremely exaggerated.


    Stephen looked curiously at this strange-looking man, and then slowly said, "I need a camera, the kind that can be carried around."


    "Oh... of course, who comes here not to buy a camera?" the man replied in an exaggerated tone.


    "Our cameras are the best in the world, bar none."


    He turned and led Stephen to the bar inside, pointing to a model on top and said, "This is our latest product, it''s only a little bigger than your fist."


    "Just load it with film, and you can shoot anything you want."


    "You can send us your negatives at any time, and we will develop the photos and put them in a beautiful collector''s album, and then send them to you."


    Stephen picked up the camera and nodded in satisfaction. "How much?"


    "Oh... it''s not cheap." The man then quoted a price that Stephen wasn''t surprised by.


    "I''ll take one, and get me two or three rolls of film as well."


    "Oh... it seems you have a lot of things you want to shoot, may I ask what your profession is?"


    The man seemed suddenly interested in Stephen''s profession, asking curiously, "Of course, this is just my personal interest, you don''t have to answer."


    "Nothing I can''t say, I''m a bounty hunter." Stephen asked curiously, "Does this have anything to do with my profession?"


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    "Oh... that''s great, I''ve been looking for someone like you." the man said happily.


    He hurriedly wiped his hand on his clothes, then extended his right hand to Stephen, "Let me introduce myself, I''m Welen Ike. As you can see, I''m the owner of this shop."


    "Stephen, Stephen Johnson. Judging by the looks of you, I''d say you have something you want to commission me for," Stephen said with a smile as he shook his hand.


    "Oh... you''re so right." Welen said with a smile, "Would you like to have a cup of coffee? We can talk about it slowly."


    "Of course, with pleasure." Why not, when someone is offering?


    Welen led Stephen into the room, which was quite well decorated.


    Comfortable sofas, exquisite coffee tables, and murals on the walls that looked quite valuable.


    "Please, have a seat, I''ll make some coffee." Welen said warmly.


    Stephen didn''t stand on ceremony and went straight to the sofa.


    There were also a few newspapers on the coffee table, so Stephen picked up two to pass the time.


    "Do you want milk in your coffee?" Welen, who was making coffee, asked warmly.


    "Uh, no, I like it pure."


    Before long, Welen walked over with a steaming cup of coffee, "Try it, it''s the latest good coffee beans from Africa."


    Stephen picked up the cup and took a sip. It was indeed good stuff, the taste was really good.


    "There''s plenty of sunshine there, which is excellent for coffee beans." Welen said with a smile, "I think, just by looking at you, you''re a very powerful bounty hunter."


    "Can you tell that?" Stephen asked curiously, "How can you tell?"


    Since someone was offering, Stephen didn''t mind chatting with this interesting guy for a while.


    "Vibe, you know? Just vibe, a very peculiar thing." Welen said with gestures, "I''ve seen a lot of people, and I''ve never been wrong."


    Stephen shrugged. "Maybe you''re right, but what does this have to do with what you want to commission me for?"


    "Of course it has something to do with it." Welen said with a smile, "In fact, our company recently launched a competition."


    Stephen looked at Welen with curiosity. What does a camera company''s competition have to do with him?


    Welen said patiently, "The theme of the competition is: Sin."


    "Sin?" Stephen said in surprise. "What kind of theme is that? Do you want the people taking photos to commit crimes?"


    "Of course that''s impossible." Welen said with some embarrassment, "Look at someone like me, what kind of crime could I commit? Tax evasion?"


    Both of them laughed, tax evasion in the United States is one of the three most difficult challenges in the world.


    "So I thought about it and decided to photograph those notorious criminals!" Welen said mysteriously.


    Stephen finally realized it at this moment, no wonder he wanted to commission himself. This guy clearly wasn''t someone who could fight.


    A guy like him, as soon as he leaves the city and enters the wilderness, would be eaten up in no time.


    "So, you want me to get you some photos of those people when I''m apprehending criminals?" Stephen said with a smile.


    People of sin? Stephen knew quite a few of those people, there were a bunch in the Van der Linde gang.


    Stephen was confident it wouldn''t be difficult to get them to pose for a photo.


    "That''s right, that''s exactly it." Welen snapped his fingers and said excitedly, "It would be even better if you could include the person''s criminal record."


    "Are you asking me to stay by their side and photograph them while they''re committing crimes?"


    "No need for that, just a written explanation is fine." Welen shook his head and said, "I believe that no one represents the theme of sin better than criminals who embody sin."


    "For each photo, I will give you a generous bounty, I believe this money can definitely help you." Welen gestured, and Stephen nodded in satisfaction.


    "If I can win this competition, then I''m very likely to get a promotion and a raise. Be transferred to the more prosperous Saint Denis, or even to the civilized world in the east!" Welen said with a look of longing.


    "Okay, I think I should be able to do that." Stephen said with a smile, "You can give me an address, and I''ll send you the photos when I have them."


    "But I have to say, I can''t always run into criminals."


    "Oh... of course, in fact, the competition has a long time, a whole year, just send it to me before winter comes this year."


    Welen finally seemed relieved, and he raised his coffee cup, "To our cooperation, cheers!"


    "Cheers!"

 34 - A String of Troubles

    Stephen chilled out in Blackwater for two days before moseying north on horseback.


    Crossing the Upper Montana River and passing Riggs Station, he saw the same train he''d taken on the way there, still stuck.


    Those knucklehead O''Driscoll gang members had really done a number on it, wrecking a bunch of parts when they stopped it.


    Out in the boonies like this, there was no fixing it. They were stuck waiting for some techie to come all the way from Saint Denis.


    Once at Riggs Station, Strawberry wasn''t far off. Just a hop and skip up the little road along the tracks.


    Strawberry was a cute little town. Their mayor was hell-bent on turning it into a nationally famous tourist spot.


    The town snuggled at the foot of the hills, hugged tight by woods all around.


    A crystal-clear creek trickled down from the hills and through the town, giving it that resort vibe you see later on.


    Here''s the thing: Strawberry was a dry town, and they meant business.


    Raise a ruckus drunk, and you''d find yourself cooling your heels in the slammer.


    That''s why Strawberry was probably the most law-abiding town around.


    Stephen rode easy down Main Street, nodding and waving as vendors called out friendly greetings. Folks knew him around these parts after a year of helping the Sheriff''s office bag bad guys.


    He was kind of a big deal in the town.


    Stopping in the middle of the little bridge at the town center, Stephen just had to snap a shot of the place with his camera.


    *Click!* and there it was, a photo that screamed old-timey.


    Pleased as punch, Stephen stowed away his camera and rode toward the hotel.


    He wasn''t the kind to buy a house anyway. As he liked to say, he spent more time in the wilds than indoors.


    Mostly, he was camping out under the stars or holed up in some hotel.


    "Ha, the bounty hunter rides again! Looks like you had yourself a good haul," the hotel owner said with a grin. "Judging by that white horse you''re sitting on, I''d say you struck it rich."


    "Heh, not really. Just a good horse, that''s all," Stephen chuckled. "That room I always take, is it still open?"


    "Sure is. It ain''t exactly tourist season. Truth be told, things have been dead as a doornail." The owner shrugged, sounding bummed.


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    Stephen piled his stuff on the counter. "Stow this for me, will ya? And have the stable boy see to my horse. I gotta swing by Sheriff Malloy''s office next door."


    "You got it," the owner replied with enthusiasm. "Want me to get your supper going? Same as always?"


    "Yup."


    Stephen flashed two bills on the counter, turned, and walked out.


    The Sheriff''s office was a stone''s throw away, right next to the saloon.


    Perched on a little rise at the north entrance of Strawberry, it overlooked most of the town.


    Stephen pushed the door open, finding Sheriff Malloy sitting there all alone.


    The sheriff looked up at Stephen with something that sounded a lot like a sigh of relief ¡°Thank god, you¡¯re finally back¡±


    Hearing those words, Stephen had a sinking feeling, trouble had found him again.


    ¡°Lay it on me, what is it now?¡± Stephen flopped down on the chair across from the Sheriff with a weary sigh.


    The sheriff seemed uneasy. He shuffled a few times in his chair, ¡°There was¡­ A murder over at Beryl¡¯s Dream¡±


    "Beryl''s Dream? How is that even news?" Stephen asked, tilting his head ¡°Who''d they kill?¡±


    In the West this sort of thing was pretty common


    Stephen knew Beryl¡¯s Dream, its north of Strawberry with great scenery, but really deserted.


    "My... My Cousin." The sheriff had to gather up his strength to even get those two words out, ¡°he and his family used to work at some Factory in the East, until he was laid off, so i had them come out here to see me...¡±


    ¡°I had them get off at Riggs Station so I could meet them.¡±


    ¡°But for some reason they ended up at Wallace Station then walked all the way to Beryl¡¯s Dream.¡±


    "Sorry to hear that" Stephen sighed looking over at the shell of a man behind the sheriffs desk and consoled ¡°Did anyone say what happened¡±


    The sheriff simply shook his head starting to choke, ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know. But that isn¡¯t the problem. My cousin and his wife were murdered but their kids¡­ their kids are missing!¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡± The sheriff looked up ¡°There wasn¡¯t anything at the scene other then two corpses.


    Seeing his sheriff looking really out of it, Stephen pulled out a bottle of beer from his satchel.


    Sam downed it straight from the bottle ignoring manners


    He downed the whole bottle in one fell swoop ¡°Thanks. All the cops I have are a bunch of deadbeats¡±


    ¡°So you want me, bounty hunter extrordiaire, to sub in as a Detective to rescue you relatives and get revenge¡± Stephen asked hesitant about committing himself.


    ¡°Your the expert at catching criminals; but this, well.¡±


    Beryl¡¯s Dream was sprawling hills going up against mountain regions, It wouldn¡¯t be a walk in the park


    ¡°I beg you, Stephen I don¡¯t have anyone else I can ask¡± Sam was really old as he locked Stephens hand with his and almost burst into tears.


    ¡°I¡¯ve let my guys loose looking for clues, but its been days without end. Even worse some two of them got mauled by wolves. Please, help me I don¡¯t know what to do¡±


    ¡°Stephen you¡¯re the only competent Lawman I know and I really hope you¡¯re there for me now¡±


    Sam rambled about to the point where the situation was almost comical so with a deep breath in Stephen relented ¡°Alright alright. I¡¯ll think about this tonight and come over tomorrow for an answer¡±


    ¡°I have to thank you over and over. It means everything that you will help¡± The sheriff had started up from his chair nearly giving Stephen a bow.


    ¡°Well let¡¯s not get hasty now,¡± Stephen spoke back ¡°I have to let you know, I can''t guaranty there will be anything conclusive with the matter, only I¡¯ll commit to searching high and low, wherever they might be. Deal?¡±


    ¡°More then any promise I could want. Now that''s everything, thank you."


    Doing the best to console the situation as it came Stephen went away


    Standing around the Sherriff¡¯s office at the setting of sun the colors gave off such beautiful shades and highlights


    Everything there made the current land all the more desirable in its beautifulness


    Regardless as the situation has shown you cant say anything regarding such


    ¡°It seems like my existence is destined only by strife.¡± Stephen uttered out loud

 35 - Wolf Pack

    Stephen always believed in fulfilling a promise.


    The next morning, he packed his gear and set off on horseback.


    As he stepped out of the hotel, he saw Sheriff Malloy sitting alone by the entrance.


    "Hey, you here to see me off?" Stephen walked over, patting him on the shoulder.


    He then noticed that the Sheriff looked exhausted, as if he hadn''t slept all night.


    "I got something for you." Seeing Stephen, the Sheriff stood up immediately and handed him a small box he had been sitting on.


    Curiously, Stephen opened it to find a box full of dynamite!


    He looked at the Sheriff in surprise, who gritted his teeth and said, "This is some good stuff I got from the army. If you can, use it to blow those sons of bitches to kingdom come!!"


    "Remember, don''t let this stuff get out, or we''re both screwed."


    Stephen nodded, placing the box securely on his horse, and tying it down with extra rope.


    "Don''t worry, if I get the chance, I''ll strap it to those guys." Stephen said solemnly.


    "Then go, I''ll be waiting for good news."


    The Sheriff reached out and patted Stephen on the shoulders before turning and leaving.


    Watching the Sheriff''s dejected figure, Stephen felt a pang of sympathy.


    This man was practically the second most powerful person in Strawberry. But when his family died, he was still lost and heartbroken.


    This world is unfair, but it is also fair.


    Having finished his reflection, Stephen turned, mounted his horse, and trotted off towards the northern forest.


    No matter how you live, you have to go to the crime scene first. You might find something.


    Following the trail north, along the mountain path. Until he passed through a dense forest, arriving at a vast grassland.


    The scenery was truly beautiful, with a clear stream flowing quietly across the land.


    The ground was covered in a variety of flowers, exuding a captivating fragrance.


    Various wild animals frolicked by the stream, and in a short while, Stephen saw white-tailed deer, antelope, and even elk.


    A fiery red fox chased a plump rabbit across the front of their horse, making Stephen want to draw his gun and test his marksmanship.


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    In the distance, on the hills, Stephen also saw a massive brown bear.


    The bear glanced at Stephen on horseback, decided he wasn''t worth the trouble, wiggled its backside and disappeared into the forest.


    Even though it wasn''t his first time here, Stephen always felt an immense sense of tranquility when he came to this grassland.


    Stephen took a deep breath of the fresh air and fragrant flowers, and couldn''t help but stretch.


    He had arrived. Next, he just had to continue a bit westward to reach Valley View Overlook.


    Stephen rode his horse, slowly walking along the mountain path.


    The forest became increasingly dense, and the narrow trail could only accommodate one horse at a time.


    The surrounding woods were filled with the howls of wolves, signaling that there were far too many beasts here.


    Stephen carefully took out his weapon, fearing that a beast would jump out from the bushes.


    Finally, at a bend in the road, a patch of blood on the ground caught Stephen''s attention.


    "If I''m not mistaken, this should be it." Stephen crouched down and examined it carefully.


    Unfortunately, because the police had already been here, all traces had been destroyed.


    Footprints, hoofprints, tire tracks ¨C everything that could be tracked was gone.


    That''s why Stephen often said that the police were more of a hindrance than a help.


    "Since that''s the case, there''s only one way." Stephen stood up, muttering helplessly.


    Since he couldn''t find the killer directly, he would have to find someone who might know the killer.


    Stephen only knew of one place where he might be able to find the killer.


    But going there was expensive...


    However, he believed that Sheriff Malloy would be more than willing to cover all his expenses.


    Just as Stephen was about to lead his horse away, a wolf howl in the distance stopped him in his tracks.


    "Damn it, I knew I wouldn''t be that lucky." Stephen cursed under his breath, and quickly tied the white horse securely to a nearby tree.


    No matter how brave the white horse was, it would still run when faced with predators.


    If he didn''t tie it up, Stephen would have to walk home.


    As soon as he tied up his horse, more and more wolf howls echoed around him.


    The white horse immediately became nervous, pawing at the ground, trying to leave.


    Seeing this, Stephen quickly pulled out his Pump-Action Shotgun and fired a shot blindly into the woods.


    With a piercing scream, a coyote fell into a pool of blood.


    Seeing the coyote in front of him, Stephen couldn''t help but breathe a sigh of relief.


    Luckily it was a timid coyote; if it had been a wolf, he would have been in serious trouble.


    At that moment, the nearby forest came alive.


    Seven or eight coyotes burst out from all directions, lunging straight at Stephen.


    "Eat lead!" Stephen roared, raising his Pump-Action Shotgun once again.


    Although its range was short, its spread pattern was wide, he wasn''t overly concerned with accuracy.


    Stephen held the Pump-Action Shotgun at his waist, his right hand clamped down on the trigger. As he pulled back on the slide, five continuous shots took down four overzealous coyotes.


    His bullets depleted, he swung the Pump-Action Shotgun. His weapon connected with an unlucky coyote attempting to flank him.


    Dodging another leaping beast, he drew his knife and drove his blade deep into the attacking creature''s heart.


    Drawing his Schofield Revolver, he finished the fight by dispatching the final challenger.


    The coyotes, seeing the heavy casualties, no longer dared to approach. All retreated, their forms retreating.


    The pack began their hasty retreat after their leader commanded them with an ear-splitting howl.


    These creatures had retreated as quickly as they came, with the fight lasting just moments but felt long.


    Not daring to relax, Stephen quickly reloaded his Pump-Action Shotgun.


    After waiting a while to confirm that the beasts would not return, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.


    "Fighting these things is much harder than killing people." Stephen puffed out a few breaths, muttering helplessly.


    In such complex mountain forests, a pack of coyotes could sometimes be more terrifying than bandits.

 36 - Chance Encounter

    The wolf encounter left Stephen exhausted and his white horse utterly terrified.


    The poor thing had been targeted by a coyote right from the start.


    Stephen didn''t have time to help him; in a panic, the horse used its iron-shod hooves to deliver a devastating kick to the coyote''s belly.


    Kicking aside the unfortunate coyote, its entrails ripped apart by the white horse''s hooves, Stephen quickly pulled out some tasty horse feed from his bag to soothe his mount.


    It was only now that Stephen realized he hadn''t even given the creature a name yet.


    "Ugh... naming is such a pain, I hate it." Stephen rubbed his head in annoyance.


    "Alright, it''s settled then, your name is Snowball." After thinking for a long while, Stephen came up with this name.


    Snowball neighed at Stephen a couple of times, it wasn¡¯t known whether it indicated an agreement or disagreement.


    But since it didn''t object, Stephen assumed it approved.


    After comforting Snowball and treating it to a delicious meal, Stephen mounted up, setting off towards his next destination.


    The place Stephen was heading, naturally, was the black market.


    Strawberry definitely had a black market, in fact, every town had one nearby.


    Valentine''s black market was a saloon, Saint Denis''s black market was a general store, and Rhodes''s black market was in the slums.


    Each place''s black market had its own unique characteristics, and Strawberry''s black market was a train station.


    That''s right, a train station located north of Strawberry, bordering Valentine, called Wallace Station.


    Because of Strawberry''s ban on alcohol, those who wanted to drink, or make money selling it, could only find places outside the town.


    Naturally, they chose this remote station near the state line as their base.


    This was also the main reason Sam didn''t want his relatives getting off at Wallace Station, as he mentioned earlier.


    It was simply too chaotic.


    A black market is a black market; how can it be called one if it isn''t shady?


    A large number of criminals, heavily intoxicated drunks, and bounty hunters like Stephen would go there in search of what they desired.


    Wallace Station wasn''t far, located east of Beryl''s Dream, accessible by following the creek eastward.


    Stephen rode Snowball at a frantic pace and finally arrived at the station before nightfall.


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    It was as lively as ever, with several suspicious-looking characters hanging around.


    There were also three or four drunks staggering towards the distance, with a few nefarious individuals quietly following behind them.


    Looks like those guys weren''t looking forward to what was to come.


    "Looks like our bounty hunter is gonna be cashing out big this time."


    Mr. Johnny, the train station''s ticket clerk and black market security guard, was quite surprised to see Snowball under Stephen, saying, "I''ve never seen such a beautiful horse!"


    Indeed, when it comes to appearance, Snowball was quite impressive.


    "It''s alright, it was only a matter of a hundred or two dollars." Stephen said in a deliberately casual manner, "As for the creature, it is alright, I suppose."


    This behavior of showing off naturally provoked a serious protest from Johnny.


    In his words, he worked hard for half a year and still couldn''t earn two hundred bucks.


    "Anything happening recently?" Stephen offered him a cigarette and tossed him two dollars as a tip.


    That''s the rule, information also costs money, of course.


    "That''s not enough." Contrary to his usual behavior, Johnny looked at the money in front of him and didn''t immediately take it.


    He grinned and said, "Buddy, you''re a regular customer, and I have some important information I want to sell you. But that''s not enough money, I need $10."


    "Oh, come on, what kind of news could you have? Don''t tell me someone robbed a train here." Stephen shook his head.


    "My God, how did you know?" Johnny said with a look of surprise, "This is exclusive news."


    "To block the news, that big capitalist, Cornwall, sealed off the area with the Pinkertons!"


    Of course Stephen knew, he even knew who robbed it! He also knew where those people were now.


    "A little private channel, don''t ask too much." Stephen waved his hand and said, "Do you know about the murders that happened at Beryl''s Dream a few days ago?"


    "Beryl''s Dream? Doesn''t that place always have murders? Which one are you talking about?"


    Johnny spread his hands and said, "At most, I can tell you who often operates there."


    "Tell me, I need that information." Stephen once again pulled out a few bills and tossed them on the counter.


    Looking at the money in front of him, Johnny hesitated for a moment before whispering, "Actually, although I don''t know who did it, I can roughly guess."


    "North of Beryl''s Dream, near Hanging Dog Ranch, there''s a family living in the woods, an old woman with her four sons."


    "They often come out to rob passersby, so if it happened there, there''s a high chance it has something to do with that family."


    Johnny leaned close to Stephen''s ear and whispered, "Don''t sell me out, I still have to work here."


    "Don''t worry, you know what kind of person I am." Stephen gratefully patted him on the shoulder and then turned to leave.


    "Are you leaving so late? Don''t want to come in for a drink? Today our boss got a crate of wine from China, it''s said to be strong, even stronger than Russian vodka."


    Johnny called out from behind Stephen, hearing this, Stephen couldn''t help but stop.


    Wine from China?


    Stephen suddenly felt a little sentimental, perhaps missing things from the past.


    "Then I have to give it a try." Stephen decisively turned around and walked into the station.


    Following the enthusiastic Johnny into the room inside the station, Johnny fumbled on the floor for a while, opened one of the floorboards, and a downward staircase appeared.


    As the floorboard opened, a mixture of food, alcohol, and a hint of grease and powder smell entered Stephen''s nostrils.


    At the same time, there were also the loud noises of the tavern guests.


    Stephen slowly walked down, and in no time, a simple but lively underground tavern appeared before his eyes.


    You really have to admire people''s creativity sometimes.


    Stephen ordered a glass of the so-called Chinese Baijiu and took a careful sip.


    To be honest, the taste was average, just strong.


    But this taste made Stephen a little intoxicated.


    "Damn it, Micah! You can''t drink anymore! We need to scout ahead, that''s not why we''re out here!"


    "You little punk, it''s not your place to lecture me!"


    Just as Stephen was feeling a little tipsy, two somewhat familiar voices entered his ears.


    He looked up.


    Hey, aren''t those Lenny and Micah, who were sent out by Dutch to scout ahead!


    What a coincidence, what were the odds of encountering that?

 37 - Drunken Debacle

    These two are supposed to be scouting for Dutch, right? How did scouting turn into hanging out at a saloon?


    Stephen, curious, walked up and patted Lenny on the shoulder. "Hey, kid, what are you doing here?"


    Lenny turned around, a look of surprise and joy on his face. "Stephen! What are you doing here?"


    "As you can see, just having a drink."


    Stephen raised his glass, looking curiously at Micah, who was sitting at the table, dead drunk. "What about you guys? What''s up with him being so wasted?"


    Lenny looked exasperated. "We came out here to scout, like Dutch asked. But this guy''s just been drinking everywhere we go¡­"


    Stephen pulled Lenny over to his spot and poured him a drink. "Take it easy, tell me slowly."


    Lenny downed the drink in one gulp, then started coughing. "Oh¡­ damn, was that gunpowder I just drank? Cough cough¡­"


    Stephen patted him on the back. After catching his breath, Lenny started complaining to Stephen.


    "After we split up on the mountain, we headed west. My plan was to follow the boss''s orders and take a look around Blackwater, see when we could go back."


    "But this guy, ever since we came down from the mountains, he''s been acting crazy, looking for drinks everywhere."


    "I''ve tried to talk to him, but he never listens. Man¡­"


    Lenny said with a frustrated look, "What am I supposed to do?"


    Stephen took a slow sip of his drink, listening to Lenny''s complaints, and then looked over at Micah, lost in his drunken stupor.


    "What can you do? Go back," he said definitively.


    "But the mission the boss gave me¡­ I can''t say I didn''t do it! I haven''t even started yet!" Lenny said, close to despair.


    "Actually, you don''t have to worry about it too much." Stephen looked at Lenny. "I just came back from Blackwater a couple of days ago¡­"


    Stephen told Lenny everything he saw and heard in Blackwater. Lenny listened in silence.


    "Sean, Mac¡­ my God," Lenny said, covering his face, seeming to mourn for his friends.


    "So, we can''t go back to the West anytime soon?" Lenny said quietly. "Is it really that bad?"


    Stephen nodded. "It''s even worse than I''m telling you."


    "So, you don''t need to keep going there. Go back sooner," Stephen advised Lenny. "It''s just wasting time and could be dangerous."


    After listening to Stephen, Lenny nodded. "Yeah, guess that''s it."


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    He suddenly looked up, glancing at Micah, still drinking. "Then what about him?"


    Lenny''s eyes were full of disgust as he looked at Micah. "How am I supposed to get this guy back? I don''t want to be around him for another second."


    "Why do you care about him? He''s not an idiot¡­ although he''s pretty close to being one," Stephen said with a chuckle. "Just leave him here to wallow in his drunken dreams."


    "That''s not right, I came with him¡­" Lenny said hesitantly. "Even though I hate him, he''s still part of the gang¡­"


    "Ha, you treat him like a friend, but does he treat you like one?" Stephen said with a sneer. "I don''t think so. If he really considered you a friend, he wouldn''t be acting like this."


    "Maybe I''ll talk to him and see what he says?" Lenny said uncertainly. "If he keeps acting this way, I''ll leave him behind."


    "Go ahead, I''ll wait here."


    Stephen didn''t like Micah at all.


    The main reason, of course, was Mrs. Sadie. That disgusting Micah had tried to take advantage of her when she was at her lowest.


    And then there was Stephen''s judgment of character.


    Honestly, guys like Micah weren''t uncommon in the West. To be more specific, people like him were the norm.


    Shameless, cruel, ruthless, but when faced with so-called power and someone stronger than them, they became cowards.


    These kinds of people had no bottom line and would sell out anything they could.


    Stephen had seen too many people like this in the past two years; they weren''t anything special.


    On the other hand, people like Arthur from the Van der Linde gang, who had some principles and genuinely treated the people in the gang like family and friends, were rare.


    That''s why Stephen was willing to work with them, so he wouldn''t have to worry about being sold out.


    As Stephen was pondering this, a loud commotion interrupted his thoughts.


    He looked up and saw Micah yelling angrily at Lenny, looking like he was about to throw a punch.


    Stephen downed the rest of his strong drink. The alcohol surged through his body, making him feel a bit tipsy.


    He walked over and pulled Lenny behind him, looking at Micah, who was swaying on his feet.


    "Hehe, look who it is, the mighty bounty hunter!" Micah looked at Stephen and grinned, showing what he thought was a menacing smile.


    Unfortunately, the toothless mouth only made Stephen laugh.


    "Micah, who''s this?" a guy who was drinking with Micah asked curiously.


    "Hehe, just some busybody."


    As Micah finished speaking, Stephen said with a cold smile, "Why don''t you tell them that I''m the one who knocked all your teeth out?"


    The room fell silent, then burst into raucous laughter, almost shaking the floor.


    "Hahaha, Micah, didn''t you say you lost your teeth falling off a horse?"


    "He told me they fell out while he was eating! Hahaha!!"


    "This is hilarious, so they were knocked out by someone!!"


    The mocking laughter around him deeply affected Micah, making his face, already red from the alcohol, turn even redder.


    He roared with rage and charged straight at Stephen.


    Stephen sidestepped slightly, letting Micah run past him.


    Then, he gently raised his right foot, tripping him into a face-first fall.


    Stephen shook his head in disappointment as he looked at Micah, who was lying on the ground in a mess.


    That''s all this guy''s got.


    Micah''s friends laughed, but they were ready to come over and lend a hand.


    One of them clenched his fist and threw a punch at Stephen. Stephen slightly tilted his head again to avoid the punch.


    Then, he darted forward, followed by a swift upward thrust of his right elbow, slamming it hard into the guy''s chest.


    The strike caused the man''s heart and lungs to stop instantly, and he collapsed on the ground.


    The remaining guy looked at the two who had been taken down almost instantly and didn''t know what to do.


    The fist he had raised high, he wasn''t sure whether to put it down or keep coming forward to be beaten.


    Stephen gave a derisive smile. He suddenly remembered the assignment Welen Ike had given him. Wasn''t this guy right in front of him?


    He decisively pulled out his camera and took a close-up photo of Micah, who had fallen and was dazed.


    Micah happened to look up at this time, staring at the camera with a pair of eyes filled with hatred.


    "Hehe, Welen Ike is going to love this," Stephen said to Micah with a smile. "Your expression is pretty good."


    Lenny couldn''t stand it any longer; he didn''t want to see this idiot for another second.


    He walked forward, grabbed Stephen, and pulled him out of the saloon.

 38 - Forest Ambush

    "God, I''m so done with that guy,"


    Lenny complained to Stephen as they rode down the road, "You know what he said? "


    "Boy, I''m better than you, so you gotta listen to me!''"


    Lenny mockingly imitated Micah''s tone, making Stephen chuckle.


    "Why even bother arguing with a guy like that? If I were Dutch, I''d have offed him long ago," Stephen said, shaking his head.


    "Actually, Arthur and Hosea don''t like him either. They all think Micah''s a crazy bastard," Lenny said, puzzled.


    "Ugh, speaking of which, I don''t know how we''re gonna explain this to Dutch when we get back," Lenny said, looking bummed out.


    They were supposed to scout the trail, but didn''t. They did plenty of drinking though. And one guy went missing after one hell of a drinking session.


    "Come with me to take care of something, and then we''ll head back together," Stephen said, stretching. "I''ll put in a good word for you."


    "What is it?" Lenny asked, curious.


    "It''s simple, just a bunch of bandits," Stephen said, casually explaining the situation to Lenny.


    "Okay, just some bandits, huh? With you around, we''ll take care of it in no time," Lenny said, relieved. He had imagined it was something terrible.


    "Let''s go, it''s only a little after nine now. We''ll get there just in time for a little action."


    Stephen checked his pocket watch and waved to Lenny. "Let''s go, boy, let''s go do some good!"


    The two rode their horses, one behind the other, tearing across the Heartlands.


    The night Heartlands were different from the day.


    The moonlight bathed every blade of grass, making it easy to see even without a lantern.


    A million stars twinkled in the sky. The moon and starlight lit up the pitch-black sky, leaving one awestruck.


    The scenery was so beautiful that Stephen slowed his horse to take it all in.


    "This is an awesome place! What do you think about me saving up some money and starting a ranch here?" Stephen asked, stretching and looking at Lenny.


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    "Sounds like a great idea. If I had the money, that''s exactly what I''d do," Lenny said, eyeing the scenery.


    "Seriously, this place is perfect. Hosea and the others would love it here."


    Following the stream, the two headed north until they spotted a faint glow in a dense forest.


    "See that? Over in the trees," Stephen said, pointing to the woods ahead. "There''s a light. I think I hear voices too."


    "Could that be it?" Lenny said softly. "Wanna go take a look?"


    "Of course. Tie up the horses and we''ll go on foot," Stephen said decisively.


    They tied their horses to a nearby tree and, with weapons drawn, cautiously made their way into the forest.


    Emerging from the thicket, they found themselves in a clearing.


    In the heart of the forest sat a small cabin!


    It was pretty primitive. Two rooms, one for living and one for livestock, surrounded by a simple fence.


    The cabin was brightly lit, and two men were outside, seemingly cooking something.


    Stephen and Lenny each pulled out their binoculars and carefully observed the cabin.


    "Look, there''s a boy tied to a tree," Lenny said, shocked.


    He gritted his teeth, saying, "See the ground over there? There''s a woman''s body!!"


    Stephen had already spotted it. It looked like that he had found who he was looking for.


    "Two outside, might be some inside, but I''m guessing at least one," Lenny whispered. "What do we do?"


    "We go in loud," Stephen said, holstering his binoculars and drawing his Schofield Revolvers.


    He checked the bullets and prepared to rush in.


    Lenny asked, "What about me?"


    Stephen answered coldly, "Just cover me."


    With that, Stephen charged toward the two men, dual Schofield Revolvers in hand.


    Just a moment before, he had seen the two men preparing to hurt the boy!


    Stephen raised his guns and fired twice.


    The dim light and uneven ground meant both shots missed.


    But they startled the two men, who dove for cover and shouted into the house.


    Hits or misses didn''t matter. Stephen just wanted to stall the two men.


    Sure enough, more people were inside. Two big guys with weapons charged out. One stopped in the doorway and raised a rifle to fire. A gunshot rang out, and the guy with the rifle dropped dead, shot by Lenny who had stayed back to cover Stephen.


    Stephen wasn''t surprised.


    A kid Dutch and Hosea trusted had to have some skill.


    In the blink of an eye, Stephen was at the edge of the cabin.


    He jumped over the wooden fence, launching himself into the air.


    The remaining three just stared as Stephen sailed overhead.


    Guns blazing, Stephen fired right and left, dropping the two guys behind cover.


    In the blink of an eye, three were dead. The last one roared, raised his lever-action rifle, and fired two shots at Stephen.


    This rifle was the only rapid-firing, single-person-operated weapon of the time.


    Stephen tracked him. He rolled on the ground to dodge the three bullets, then sprang to his feet and charged the guy.


    The guy stared at Stephen, suddenly panicking and desperately pulling the trigger again.


    But Stephen wasn''t gonna let him. He dropped his guns and with his left hand slapped the rifle to the side.


    The rifle was deflected, and a scorching bullet whizzed past Stephen''s ear.


    He pulled the Bowie knife from his waist. He flipped the Bowie knife a few times in his hand, and then struck twice into the guy''s chest.


    Blood splattered everywhere, covering Stephen.


    Without pause, Stephen yanked the knife out and flung it towards the doorway.


    A good shot is good, but an unexpected shot is better. An old lady had walked through the doorway, and the knife landed in her chest.


    She looked down at the knife, then looked up at the four corpses, then collapsed on the ground.

 39 - A Good Haul

    "Five people, a mama and her four wicked sons," Stephen said, looking at the bodies on the ground, as Lenny walked over slowly.


    "Real scum," Lenny said, squatting down and looking at the naked woman''s body on the ground, a hint of pity in his voice.


    "They tortured this girl to death...she wasn''t even grown, still a kid..."


    Stephen gently touched the girl''s body, still somewhat warm, probably died not long ago.


    "Sigh, we were too late," Stephen shook his head.


    It''s all fate.


    Stephen couldn''t help but sigh. This goddamn world is like this. No one knows whether tomorrow or an accident will come first.


    "Go check on that kid. I''ll go inside and take a look," Stephen said, pointing to the boy tied to the tree.


    The boy had already passed out. Stephen took a rough look; he had obviously suffered a lot.


    He felt a bit sick looking at it.


    He always felt that, no matter what, children are innocent.


    He turned and walked into the house, ready to see if there were any surprises waiting for him.


    The house was very dilapidated, like most log cabins in this era, with holes everywhere.


    As soon as he entered, he saw a small table, and a small room inside with a single bed.


    Stephen picked up the things on the table and flipped through them casually. They were all daily necessities, nothing valuable.


    But there was a lot of food here, so he could have a good meal tonight.


    There was also a photo frame next to it. Stephen picked it up and took a look. Sure enough, these five people were a family.


    A family of demons...


    He shook his head and turned to walk into the house.


    There were a few cabinets by the bed. Stephen went through them drawer by drawer, mostly odds and ends.


    Until the last drawer, Stephen felt like he had found something good.


    He pulled hard twice, but it wouldn''t open.


    He gathered his strength, then yanked hard, and actually pulled the whole drawer out.


    Wow! All kinds of gold and silver jewelry filled the drawer, as well as some cash, but not much, probably had been spent.


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    Looks like this family robbed a lot, Stephen unceremoniously pocketed the gold and silver jewelry. These things could greatly fill his pockets.


    Continuing to walk inside, Stephen was surprised to find that there was even a basement!


    He opened the basement door and looked inside.


    Hmm, no weird smell, looks like it''s where these people stored things.


    He picked up the oil lamp from the bedside and slowly walked down.


    As soon as he went down, he saw a big red box placed on top of a pile of clutter.


    Stephen carefully checked the surroundings to make sure there was no danger before opening the box.


    Inside was a brand-new Pump-Action Shotgun!


    He recognized it at a glance; this was the famous Winchester shotgun.


    In the future, it would have a catchy nickname, the "Governor''s happy gun".


    Stephen picked up the shotgun and imitated the Governor, wanting to do a spin reload.


    But it was possible that his skill wasn''t high enough, he almost poked himself with the muzzle. Fortunately, it wasn''t loaded, otherwise, he would''ve been in trouble.


    This thing has great firepower and a fast rate of fire. It''s a good thing, perfect to keep as a backup.


    Stephen opened the other boxes and found that they were full of firearms and bullets.


    Looks like this is where they stored their weapons. There were pistols, revolvers, rifles, and Stephen even saw a few Molotov cocktails and a barrel of dynamite.


    Were these people using this place as an armory?


    Stephen looked at the small basement with a huge arsenal, and the corners of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.


    These people, sleeping on top of these things every day, weren''t they afraid of blowing themselves up?


    Stephen took the brand-new shotgun, grabbed a handful of bullets and stuffed them into his pocket, then turned and left.


    "How is he? Is the boy okay?"


    As soon as he came up, Stephen asked Lenny outside.


    Lenny was helping the boy clean his wounds. Hearing Stephen''s words, he sighed and said with some distress: "This kid is hurt too badly..."


    Indeed, Lenny took off the kid''s clothes and found that the kid was covered in wounds.


    Whipped, beaten with sticks, and some slap marks. There were hardly any good spots on his body.


    "These damn guys, they''re scum!" Lenny cursed fiercely, "I really shouldn''t have let them off so easily!"


    While speaking, Lenny rushed to the corpses and kicked them hard a few times.


    "Didn''t expect you to be so righteous," Stephen said, looking at the black boy with some surprise.


    "Of course. In Dutch''s words, we are noble thieves," Lenny said as a matter of course.


    "Noble thieves?" This surprised Stephen a bit.


    "That''s right, we rob the rich and then give the money to the poor," Lenny said proudly.


    "Heh, that''s rare indeed," Stephen said with some surprise. He was getting more and more curious about this small gang.


    The little boy woke up, he was stunned by seeing the bodies all over the ground, and then started crying.


    Lenny quickly hugged him, saying comforting words non-stop.


    Stephen had a headache. Kids are the hardest to deal with.


    Forget it, judging from Lenny''s earnest look, just leave it to him.


    Stephen rubbed his head and walked around the log cabin, finding a wagon behind the house, with a packhorse next to it.


    The wagon was full of all sorts of junk. Stephen took a look and found that the condition was not bad.


    That''s great, he''ll use this to take the five bodies back later. Sheriff Malloy would be happy to pay for it, probably.


    Stephen harnessed the horse to the wagon and drove it to the front. Then he moved the five bodies on the ground, along with the girl''s body, onto the wagon.


    "Are we going back now?" Lenny asked. "But this kid is not doing well, he has a bit of a fever."


    "We better rest for a while and let this kid calm down."


    Stephen stepped forward and looked at the kid. The kid trembled when he saw Stephen approach.


    "I really am not popular with children," Stephen said helplessly.


    "Then let''s rest here tonight and go back early tomorrow morning."


    Stephen stood up, clapped his hands, and looked around: "Lenny, throw these corpses out, don''t let these things pollute my land!"


    "Your land?" Lenny asked with a blank look: "When did this become your land?"


    "Of course it''s my land."


    Stephen showed a smile similar to Yunlong''s: "Why shouldn''t such a good place be mine!"