After leaving all his belongings at camp, Stephen packed only a few commonly used items and prepared to set off.
Things like long knives and long guns were not exactly suitable to bring into town.
The police would keep staring at you the whole time.
Just as Stephen finished packing and was about to leave, he saw the gang’s accountant, Mr.
Strauss, leading his horse as if he were heading out too.
“Hey, Mr.
Strauss, where are you going?” Stephen greeted him with a smile.
Strauss held the folder he almost never let out of his hands and said somewhat stiffly, “I’m going to Valentine.
I need to take care of some…
small business.
You know how it is.
With so many people in the gang, we need a steady source of income.”
Business?
What kind of business could people like them possibly do in a place where they knew no one?
Still, Stephen was too lazy to ask.
They were only traveling together anyway.
He led his white horse over and said, “Then shall we go together?
I was just about to head into town myself.”
“OK, no problem.” Strauss agreed without the slightest hesitation.
After passing through the dense forest, the two of them reached a country road.
The sky had already begun to darken, so both of them picked up their pace a little, hoping to reach town sooner.
There was a road here, but the land around it still looked completely wild.
At this point in America, aside from the core areas of the Thirteen Colonies in the East, most of the West, and even much of the Midwest, was still sparsely populated.
There were towns, ranches, and farms here, but outside those places, everything still looked raw and untouched.
Vast forests, wide grasslands.
Everywhere was full of life.
They had not gone far before Stephen saw several Whitetail Deer grazing leisurely among the trees.
Once they noticed the two riders passing by, they were startled and quickly bounded away.
A few birds flew freely through the sky.
Stephen held out his hand, and one particularly bold bird even landed on it, resting there for quite a while.
Only after its companions had flown far off did it take to the sky again, searching for the flock that had already returned to its nest.
Several wild rabbits darted back and forth across the ground, a few times rushing right under the horses’ hooves and nearly getting kicked to death.
It seemed Pearson would not have to worry about everyone failing to catch game here.
There was more than enough foolish prey in these parts.
Stephen breathed in the fresh air around him, scented with grass, and his whole body relaxed.
He sat loosely in the saddle.
They had been traveling nonstop for the past two days, and he really was a little tired.
Once he got to town, he needed to take a proper bath and unwind.
Strauss rode beside him, holding that ledger he almost never parted with and calculating something.
Suddenly, he turned to Stephen and said, “Mr.
Stephen, do you have enough money on you?
If not, I can lend you some.
As for the interest…”
Stephen now understood what kind of business this man was going into town for.
He was even lending money to his own people.
No, in a certain sense, Stephen really did not count as one of their own.
“Oh, no need, thank you, Mr.
Strauss.
I still have some income of my own.” Stephen rejected the offer cleanly.
Seeing that Stephen was not interested, Strauss seemed a little disappointed.
He shook his head, lowered it again, and continued on his way.
When the two of them passed a railroad track, it meant the town was not far off.
Stephen squeezed his horse’s sides and began trotting along the tracks.
Strauss, meanwhile, continued studying his ledger at an unhurried pace, though Stephen had no idea what there was to look at.
“Mr.
Strauss, I’ll go on ahead.
See you later.” Stephen waved to the old accountant and, without waiting for a reply, urged his horse straight into town.
As the white horse ran, a warm evening wind blew against Stephen’s face.
The wind carried away the last trace of cold from his body, but it also brought with it the heavy smell of cattle and sheep manure.
Out of habit, Stephen took a deep breath into the wind.
Good Lord, it nearly choked him to death.
He quickly covered his nose.
This place was terrifying.
The deeper he went into town, the more animal waste covered the ground.
The manure and urine had mixed with the mud, turning into something like sludge.
Every time the white horse under him set down a hoof, it sank three to five centimeters.
After only a few steps, its snow-white hooves were already filthy and black.
Stephen had no desire to get off the horse at all.
For someone from the twenty-first century, this environment was far too horrifying.
The town was not large.
It had only one main street, and at the end of the road stood a stable.
Stephen rode straight in.
Do not forget, he had caught this horse in the wild.
It did not even have horseshoes yet.
“Hello there.
What can I do for you?”
The owner and his assistant were tidying up, seemingly about to close for the day.
But when they saw a customer arrive, they still welcomed him warmly.
“Whoa, my God, what am I looking at?”
Stephen had just been about to speak when the owner let out a cry of surprise, startling both Stephen and the assistant beside him.
The owner immediately dropped the tools in his hands and practically scrambled over to the white horse, gently stroking its body.
That intoxicated expression, those affectionate eyes, and those tender movements made it look as if he had just seen a long-lost lover.
The posture, the expression, the whole manner of it made Stephen shudder, goosebumps rising all over him.
Did this owner have some kind of strange fetish?
“What a magnificent horse.
Such a pure white coat, such a build, such bearing.
It’s like the mount of an angel from legend!” the owner said excitedly to Stephen.
“Are you selling this horse?
I can offer a very high price!
Whatever you ask, I’ll pay it!”
Seeing how worked up the owner was, Stephen felt that even if he asked for the man’s life, he would not hesitate.
Stephen refused decisively.
“Not for sale.
But I can leave him here with you for the night.
You need to get him a good set of horseshoes, a properly fitted saddle, and clean him up.”
At first, Stephen really had planned to sell the horse, then maybe take the money and find a beautiful place to retire.
But that would not work now.
He still needed this fine horse to help him chase down his enemies.
“That really is a shame.” The owner shook his head in pain, then said to Stephen, “A horse this fine has to use the best.
The saddle will need to be custom-made too, and that price won’t be low.”
“Don’t worry.
I have money.” Stephen took out two bills and handed them to the owner.
“This is the deposit.
Once it’s done, I’ll give you the same amount again.
How long before I can get what I want?”
The owner took the money and counted it, then shook the bills and said, “This isn’t enough.
At the very least, add this much again.”
“Fine.
What a greedy man.” Stephen took out two more bills.
“Then I want it by noon tomorrow.”
The owner looked at the bills in Stephen’s hand, gritted his teeth, and said, “No problem.
After twelve tomorrow, you can come take your horse.”
…
Chapter 19: The Town’s Black Market
By the time Stephen left the stable and stepped onto Valentine’s street, it was completely dark.
The stable faced the town’s main street.
The shops lining both sides of the road had all lit their lamps, giving the place a faintly warm, lively glow.
There were very few people on the street.
Only a few drunken fools staggered out of the saloon and wandered aimlessly down the road.
Stephen pinched his nose and stepped through the mixture of shit and piss covering the ground as he made his way toward the saloon.
After being stuck in the mountains for so long, it was time to treat his stomach to something decent.
The moment he pushed open the saloon doors, a mixed smell of food, liquor, sweat, and some other strange odors rushed straight at him.
This was one of the reasons Stephen did not particularly like going into so-called civilized society.
It stank far too much.
“Martin, get me a bottle of beer.
And one for yourself too.”
Stephen went to the bar like he knew the place well, tossed two coins in front of the bartender, then lit a cigarette and leaned casually against the counter.
“Long time no see, Stephen.
I thought you were dead.” The bartender took the coins, picked up a bottle of beer from the cabinet behind him, and set it on the bar.
“How could that be?
Do I look like the kind of man who might drop dead at any moment?” Stephen said with a laugh.
“You haven’t shown your face in months.
You know how it is.
When a bounty hunter like you disappears for months, it usually means he’s dead.” Martin spread his hands with a look that said Stephen understood perfectly.
“Don’t lump me in with those idiots.” Stephen raised the bottle, gulped down half of it, then set it heavily back on the bar.
“Where’s Old Jack?” Stephen asked casually.
“Upstairs.
Looks like you came here needing something today,” Martin said with a smile.
“He’s in the private room upstairs.”
“Thanks.
Get me one meal ready.
No, make it two.
I’ll come down and eat later.” With that, Stephen turned and went upstairs.
As an outstanding bounty hunter, he naturally needed to know where to find the information he wanted.
In this era, the easiest places to get information were saloons, black markets, and a few other such places.
This saloon was a saloon on the surface, but it occasionally served as a black market too.
That was perfectly normal.
Stephen made his way leisurely up to the second floor and came to a small room at the very back.
A burly man sat outside the door.
He was probably over two meters tall, and he was built like a wall.
His thighs alone were likely as thick as Stephen’s waist.
If this had been a later age, he would definitely have been an NBA first draft pick.
His name was Tommy.
He was Old Jack’s son, a fool whose head was full of nothing but muscle.
“Hey, Tommy.
How’ve you been?” Stephen took out a cigarette and handed it over, greeting him warmly.
“Not bad.
The men in this damn town are all cowards.
They don’t dare fight me.
You’re more fun.” Tommy was clearly very happy to see Stephen.
“When are we gonna fight again?” Tommy rubbed his fists excitedly, as if the place would immediately turn into a battlefield the moment Stephen nodded.
“Not this time.
I’m here to see your old man.
I’ve got something important.
Let me finish my business first.” Stephen patted the big oaf on the shoulder and said with a smile, “When I get back, I’ll fight you.”
“Alright.” Tommy’s face filled with disappointment, then he listlessly opened the door behind him.
“Come in, my friend.”
Stephen walked into the small room.
It was a complete mess, with all kinds of strange odds and ends piled up until they nearly filled the whole space.
In the middle of the room stood a small table, with an oil lamp lit on top.
A thin, small old man sat behind the table, holding a book and reading with great interest.
“Long time no see, Old Jack.” Stephen did not stand on ceremony at all and dropped straight into the chair across from him.
“You disappeared for so long and still didn’t die.
Now that’s something rare.” Old Jack’s voice was very hoarse, sounding like a saw cutting through wood.
Stephen dug hard at his ear, picked out a huge piece of earwax, then flicked it into a vase not far away.
“Did you come here just to show me you can clean your ears?” Old Jack frowned and said in a low voice.
“Of course not.
I have something important.” Stephen held a cigarette in his mouth and looked through the smoke at the small old man before him.
“Tell me, where around here can I find traces of the O’Driscoll Gang?”
“You’re playing that big now?
You even dare mess with those people?” Old Jack laughed disdainfully.
“Even if I tell you, do you have the guts to go looking for trouble with them?”
Stephen looked puzzled and asked, not sounding very confident, “Do I really seem that timid to you?
I remember being pretty brave.”
“Heh, this has nothing to do with whether you’re brave or not.
Those men kill without blinking.
They’re not easy to deal with.” Old Jack smiled.
“What do you want with them?”
“A little personal grudge.
You know how it is.” Stephen’s tone was very relaxed, as if he were chatting about everyday matters.
“Heh, don’t lie to me.
What kind of personal grudge could someone like you possibly have with those men?” Old Jack shook his head, looking as if he had seen straight through Stephen.
“You want to make trouble for the O’Driscoll Gang?”
“You really do get sharper with age.
Nothing gets past you.” Stephen spread his hands, looking helpless.
“So, are you going to help or not?”
“I’d be taking a great risk with this.
If those people find out I sold them out, there’ll be trouble.” Old Jack looked at Stephen seriously.
“So…
it’ll cost extra.”
Stephen had known this would be the result.
This Old Jack was the kind of man who lived and died for money.
As long as the price was right, he would sell even his own wife.
Stephen pulled out the bag of jewelry Dutch had given him and dumped the whole thing onto the table in front of him with a clatter, looking very generous.
“This should be enough, right?”
Old Jack looked at Stephen suspiciously, as if he could not believe a bounty hunter like him could produce so many fine things.
He casually picked up a necklace and examined it carefully by the light of the oil lamp.
“You’re fucking messing with me.
This stuff isn’t worth a damn!” Old Jack looked at Stephen with a dark expression.
After doing business for so many years, he could tell at a glance exactly how much these things were worth.
“Look carefully, old man.
These things are still worth something.
Besides, I’m only asking you for information.
I’m not asking you to do anything yourself, am I?” Stephen said with an innocent look.
“The clinic.
The clinic next to the police station.”
Old Jack thought for a moment, then slowly said, “There are a few men from the O’Driscoll Gang hiding in the clinic next to the police station.
They use it as a base for some black market business.”
“Next to the police station?” Stephen repeated in disbelief.
“You mean?”
“That’s right.
Exactly what you’re thinking.” Old Jack let out two cold laughs.
“Those men bribed the deputy sheriff.”
“What about Sheriff Malloy?
Did they buy him too?”
“Close enough.
Our dear sheriff spends every day running himself ragged between his wife and his mistress.
When would he have time to care about things like this?” Old Jack said mockingly.
“As long as those men pay him his taxes, he doesn’t have the mood to bother with such little matters.”
…
Chapter 20: The Oscar Winner
Now that he knew where those men were, the rest was much simpler.
Stephen made his way downstairs, where Martin had already prepared his dinner.
He found a seat for one, sat down, and quietly enjoyed his meal.
It was a pan-seared steak with vegetable salad, freshly baked buttered bread, and a plate of sliced fresh fruit.
In a little town like this, you could not expect fine dining.
The main thing was that the ingredients were fresh.
The beef was tender and juicy, seared until the outside was crisp and the inside was soft.
One bite was pure enjoyment.
The vegetables were fresh and green.
They had only been briefly blanched in hot water, then mixed with a rich salad dressing.
The bread had been baked that very day, with a lightly crisp crust and a soft inside.
Tear off a piece, dip it in the vegetable soup, and the aroma was wonderful.
The fruit at the end was simple too, just a few slices of apple and pear, along with half a peach.
Stephen had Martin bring him another bottle of whiskey, then finished the meal in great satisfaction and stumbled out of the saloon, looking drunk.
The night was already deep.
There was not a single person to be seen on the street, and the only noise left in town came from the saloon behind him.
Stephen had drunk quite a bit, and whiskey was strong liquor.
He had drunk enough that his head felt swollen and dizzy.
With the evening wind blowing over him, he looked even more muddled.
One hand braced against the wall, he wandered aimlessly through the streets.
Stephen staggered toward the clinic, his steps messy and uneven, looking like a liquor cabinet that had gotten drunk itself.
Of course, he was not actually drunk.
He was not someone who liked drinking himself senseless.
To find out what was going on inside the clinic without making those people suspicious, he naturally needed a chance to go in openly and look around.
And who could be more reckless than a drunkard?
Stephen kicked open the clinic door and, under the clinic owner’s shocked gaze, grabbed a bottle of medicine nearby and tried to pour it into his mouth.
“Give me liquor!
I want liquor!”
The clinic owner rushed over to stop him, reaching out to snatch the medicine bottle from Stephen’s hand.
“That’s medicine, not liquor!
My God, where did this drunk come from?”
But the clinic owner was only built like an ordinary man.
How could he be a match for Stephen?
Stephen swept out a hand and hoisted the clinic owner clean off the ground as if he weighed nothing.
“Give me liquor!
Hurry up and give me liquor!”
Stephen acted just like a mad drunk, holding the owner up as he charged deeper into the clinic.
As he walked, he shouted and howled, as if afraid others would not know he was causing trouble here.
Sure enough, just as Stephen carried the owner into the room behind the clinic, three burly men rushed out from inside.
Although Stephen really was a little dizzy, he still saw clearly that all three of them wore green scarves around their necks.
It seemed Old Jack had not lied to him.
Stephen immediately felt relieved.
“Aaaah!
Where’s the liquor?
Give me liquor, or I’ll kill you!”
Stephen kept yelling, and when the three men saw this, they hurriedly rushed straight at him.
They first pulled the owner out of his hands, then pinned Stephen to the floor and beat him with their fists.
Stephen did not fight back.
Instead, he opened his mouth wide and went, “Ugh,” right onto the head of the man in front.
He had eaten so much that night and drunk so much liquor that his stomach had been ready to burst.
After taking two punches, he immediately vomited all over the man.
An awful stench instantly filled the air.
The man covered in vomit clearly had not expected this result.
He stared blankly at Stephen, as if he could not believe what had just happened.
The other two men, along with the freed doctor, quickly covered their noses and backed away.
That smell…
it stung the eyes.
Humiliated and furious, the man reached for his gun, wanting to shoot Stephen, but just then, another person rushed in through the door.
“What the hell is going on?”
The newcomer was Valentine’s deputy sheriff.
Seeing the clinic in such a mess, he immediately frowned.
Seeing that he had already gotten what he came for, Stephen simply let himself fall to the floor and closed his eyes.
“Where did this drunk come from?” the man covered in vomit said angrily.
“I’m gonna put a bullet in him!”
“Stop!” the deputy sheriff hurriedly shouted, covering his nose.
“You can’t kill anyone in town.
That’s our agreement!”
“But…” the man said anxiously.
“What if this guy saw something?”
The deputy sheriff looked down at Stephen, who seemed to have passed out completely.
“Don’t worry.
He’s probably dead drunk.
I’ll lock him up for a couple of days first.”
…
By the time Stephen woke up again, it was already noon the next day.
The moment he opened his eyes, he saw an unfamiliar ceiling.
Stephen’s mouth was dry, and his whole body reeked.
He looked down at himself in disgust, wishing he could jump straight into a river and wash himself clean.
“You awake?” a somewhat hoarse male voice came from beside him.
Stephen turned his head and saw that it was Sheriff Malloy of Valentine.
As for where he was now, naturally, it was a cell in the police station.
“Sheriff, what crime did I commit?” Stephen asked with an innocent expression.
“I didn’t know your tolerance was that bad.
One bottle of whiskey and two beers put you down.” The sheriff looked surprised.
“I thought a man like you would be able to drink.”
Stephen had once helped Sheriff Malloy catch two fugitives, so they had worked together before.
Sheriff Malloy slowly walked up to Stephen and smiled at him through the bars.
“You really got yourself into trouble this time.
Got drunk, made a scene, smashed up the clinic, and beat the clinic owner.
I reckon all the profit you made this time is going straight into paying for it.”
“Ah!
What?” Stephen asked, looking shocked.
“I asked Old Jack at the saloon.
He said you asked him to sell off the jewelry you earned.
It was worth dozens of dollars.
So he went ahead and paid your bail for you.
Which means your profit this time…”
The sheriff clapped his hands together, then spread them with a wicked grin.
“Gone.”
Stephen immediately understood.
Old Jack had helped him out by bailing him free.
That cunning old bastard.
Even at a time like this, he still wanted Stephen to owe him a favor.
But since he was acting, he had to play the part all the way.
Stephen instantly put on an expression like he wanted to cry but had no tears.
The movement was so practiced, the expression so lifelike, he practically deserved an Oscar.
“My God!
I froze up in the snowy mountains for days to get that money!” Stephen let out a heartbroken wail, tragic enough to make anyone who heard it weep.
“Alright, quit howling.” The sheriff impatiently opened the cell door and let Stephen out.
He pointed toward the door not far away and said to Stephen, “I’ve got business today, and I don’t feel like wasting time with you.
So take your things and get lost.”
…
Chapter 21: Calling for Help
A bath.
He needed a bath and a change of clothes, fast.
That was the first thing Stephen wanted to do after walking out of the police station.
Obviously, when the deputy sheriff brought him back last night, he had not carried him gently in his arms.
So Stephen was not only covered in his own vomit now.
He was also covered in large amounts of dried, hardened mud mixed with shit and piss.
Those foul smells blended together, and Stephen was already close to his limit.
He shook his still-groggy head and headed straight for the only general store in town.
General stores in this era really did sell a bit of everything.
Not just food and drink, but all kinds of strange odds and ends, including clothes.
Stephen pushed the door open and walked in.
The owner sitting at the counter immediately covered his nose and cursed, “Damn it, where did this stinking pile of dog shit come from?”
“If I told you I was here to give you money, you’d probably be a little more polite.” Stephen pulled a few bills from the pocket inside his pants and tossed them onto the counter.
The owner’s attitude changed at once.
Stephen knew exactly what kind of men those policemen were.
The first thing they did after arresting someone was usually to put the prisoner’s money into their own pockets.
So Stephen, with great foresight, had hidden his money in his crotch.
“What can I get you, sir?
I have everything here, a very complete selection.” For the sake of the money, the owner endured the stench and began pitching his goods to Stephen.
“Obviously, I need clothes.
A new set.” Stephen pointed to the ready-made clothes hanging nearby.
“I won’t pick them out myself.
Just choose something in the right size for me.”
The owner packed a set of clothes according to Stephen’s measurements, then sent him out as if he were sending away a plague.
The hotel was right across from the general store, and he could bathe there.
Stephen grabbed his new clothes and rushed straight inside.
Forget everyone else.
Even he could barely stand himself anymore.
The hotel owner looked at Stephen with the same expression as the general store owner, covering his nose as he shouted, “Sir, for someone in your condition, it’ll cost extra!”
“I’ll pay double.
Just let me take a bath!” Stephen shouted, covering his own nose too.
“Then go on in.
Let’s just hope the next guest doesn’t mind the smell.” For the sake of the money, the owner still let Stephen inside.
A plump Black woman was cleaning the bathroom.
When she saw Stephen rush in, she even gave him a flirtatious wink.
“Handsome, want me to wash with you?”
You really don’t mind me like this…
Stephen muttered under his breath, then promptly drove the woman out.
After that, he immediately locked the bathroom door behind him, afraid she might charge back in later.
That sort of taste was probably more suited to someone like Micah Bell.
Stephen’s preferences were not that extreme.
It had been far too long since he had enjoyed a hot bath.
He really had missed it.
Stephen quickly rinsed himself clean with water, then sank his whole body into the hot water of the tub beside him.
In an instant, he felt as if his entire body were melting.
He only wanted to lie there forever, without moving at all.
He soaked until the water was almost cold before getting up.
Then he used the free soap to carefully wash his body and hair.
He washed himself several times in a row, and only when the owner knocked on the door to tell him his time was up did Stephen reluctantly put on his clothes and walk out.
The new clothes fit well.
A light blue denim jacket over a white shirt, paired with dark blue jeans.
Add a pair of brown tall riding boots and a black cowboy hat.
With a small leather bag slung diagonally behind his waist, his gun belt fastened, and his pistol tucked into its holster, a clean and handsome young Cowboy was freshly made.
Stephen gave the owner two bills, then walked out of the hotel feeling refreshed.
The sun was nice today.
The afternoon sunlight warmed him all over.
After all the trouble from last night, Stephen was a little hungry too.
But this clearly was not mealtime, and the saloon probably did not have anything to eat.
So Stephen simply headed straight for the stable.
A worker was washing his white horse at the stable entrance.
The moment the horse saw Stephen, it became visibly excited.
It looked as though it had been stuck here long enough and wanted to go out for a run.
The owner was holding his ledger and doing accounts.
When he saw Stephen arrive, he quickly closed the book and came over to greet him.
“Sir, you came at just the right time.
Your horse is almost ready.
The new saddle and horseshoes are done.
Once the worker finishes washing him, you can ride him home.”
Then the owner said regretfully, “One more thing.
Are you truly not planning to sell him?
I can offer a very…”
“Don’t worry, I’m not selling him.” Stephen directly pulled out a small stack of bills, cutting the owner off.
“Alright.
If you ever change your mind, you must consider me first.” The owner shook his head in disappointment and accepted the money with visible heartache.
Perhaps this was the first time in the owner’s life that making money had made him unhappy.
Stephen stood at the stable entrance, smoking as he watched the worker wash his white horse.
No wonder the owner liked him so much.
Once the horse was cleaned up a little, he really was beautiful.
His freshly washed coat was so white in the sunlight that it almost seemed to glow.
The strong muscles across his body were clearly defined, perfectly balanced, and full of power.
His originally long mane had been trimmed and washed by the worker, who had even thoughtfully tied it into a small braid.
The new saddle was black, and once placed on the horse, it made his white coat stand out even more.
In short, if Stephen rode this horse down the street, every single head would turn.
Once the last trace of water had been scraped away, the worker was done cleaning the horse.
With the saddle fitted and the reins secured, this magnificent white horse was fully equipped.
Stephen led the white horse straight out of the stable.
Under the owner’s reluctant gaze, he swung into the saddle, flicked the reins, and rode directly toward Horseshoe Overlook.
He was going back to find help.
That clinic would be tricky.
He could not handle it alone.
He needed two professionals to help him.
His specialty was catching people, not robbery or assassination.
Covert work like this really was not his strong suit.
In truth, there were only three men on the other side.
If it came to a straight fight, Stephen would not even need ten seconds to make them regret it.
But there was no helping it.
The police station was right next door.
If he accidentally alerted the police, it would all be over.
He had no desire to end up on a wanted poster while still so young and spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder.
So for something like this, it was best not to alert the police at all.
And even if they had no choice but to alert them in the end, they needed to find the right people to take the blame.
Stephen believed that, in order to deal with the O’Driscoll Gang, Dutch and the others would be more than willing to take that blame.