No more talk.
The moment the white horse landed, a new wave of attacks came.
There was no time to reload in a situation like this.
One of the men let out a strange, wild yell and charged straight at Stephen.
Stephen hurled the revolver in his right hand.
It slammed into the man’s forehead and knocked him backward.
In the same motion, he drew the long knife from his back, shifted his body slightly, and made a clean, effortless cut.
The man dropped dead instantly.
Meanwhile, the revolver in his left hand was carefully returned to its holster.
That one had been a gift from Jake.
He was not about to lose it.
The white horse kept charging forward.
The remaining men, unwilling to accept defeat, scrambled onto their horses and gave chase.
So many against one, and they had already lost several men.
If they still let him escape, the O’Driscoll Gang would become a joke across the West.
But Stephen had no intention of running.
He pulled the reins sharply, turned, and rode straight back toward the train.
The train stretched long across the tracks, one car linked to the next.
With a tug on the reins, the white horse slipped through the gap between two cars.
The others tried to imitate him, rushing one after another toward the same opening.
But Stephen was already aiming his shotgun at that narrow space.
The gap between cars was tight, forcing them to bunch up.
Perfect for a shotgun.
A deafening blast rang out.
Two more unlucky men were torn apart by buckshot.
At the same time, the woman on the roof fired down at them.
Forced to react, the bandits split their forces and sent a few men to deal with her.
There had originally been more than thirty of them.
Stephen had already killed over a dozen.
Now, with their numbers divided again, they were starting to run out of options.
What unsettled them even more was the shift among the passengers.
The people who had been silent and terrified were beginning to move.
Two bandits climbed into a car, preparing to fire at Stephen through the window.
Before they could act, the passengers around them rushed forward.
They had no weapons, but in this time and place, very few people in the West were truly harmless.
They might not dare face armed bandits head-on, but beating down enemies already in trouble was another matter.
And they had plenty of courage for that.
Under the assault of a group of men, the two bandits were quickly beaten to death.
A few men who believed in their shooting skills grabbed the bandits’ weapons and used the train car as cover to fire back.
The pressure on Stephen eased immediately.
His white horse moved like a living spirit, leaping between the gaps in the train.
Behind him, the O’Driscoll Gang stumbled after him in disarray, completely unable to keep up.
But on the roof, the woman was facing real danger.
Three bandits were closing in on her.
One of them was already climbing up.
A fierce look flashed in her eyes.
She raised her rifle and fired.
She missed.
She tried to work the bolt, but the rifle jammed.
Cursing in frustration, she looked at the two men approaching, then suddenly gripped the rifle by the barrel.
She was going to use it as a club.
“Ura!”
With a shout, she charged straight at them.
Before the two could steady themselves, she swung the rifle and smashed it into one man’s head.
A dull crack sounded, and blood burst out instantly.
The solid wooden stock made for a devastating weapon.
A full-force blow like that could kill or cripple.
She tried to swing again at the second man.
But suddenly, someone grabbed her from behind.
Another bandit had climbed up and locked her in place.
Seeing her restrained, the man in front raised his gun, but hesitated.
They were too tangled together for a clear shot.
“Damn it, drop the gun and get over here!”
His companion shouted, snapping him out of it.
He rushed forward to help.
But the woman was fierce.
With her upper body restrained, she used her legs.
She pushed off the ground, lifting herself into the air, and kicked the man in front of her hard, sending him flying.
Then she threw her body backward, slamming both herself and the man behind her onto the roof.
The man holding her took the full impact.
Dazed, his grip loosened.
She rolled free, raised the rifle, and brought it down repeatedly on his face, knocking his teeth out.
The man she had kicked got back up to help, only to be struck down again by another full swing.
Three bandits.
All taken down by one woman.
At that point, the remaining bandits had no choice.
They mounted their horses and tried to flee.
But escape was no longer possible.
Gunshots echoed in the distance.
The bandits’ faces turned pale as they scattered in panic.
Moments later, over a dozen mounted police and hired bounty hunters charged in, guns raised.
They were from Strawberry, along with bounty hunters working with the law.
Because of Stephen, the fight had dragged on too long.
The authorities had already picked up the trail.
Stephen watched as the bandits were hunted down, sitting calmly on his horse as he lit a cigarette.
These lawmen and bounty hunters were experienced.
Dealing with what was left of the gang was easy work.
Especially since the bandits had already been shaken by Stephen.
“I broke your rifle.
I’ll get you a new one later.”
A voice came from above.
Stephen looked up.
It was the woman.
She sat casually on top of the train, her long pale legs dangling over the edge.
“You might want to be a little more careful about…
personal privacy,” Stephen said.
She laughed openly.
“What, interested?
If it’s you, I wouldn’t mind.”
Seeing the awkward look on his face, she laughed again.
“My name’s Maria Ivanova.
I’m from Tsarist Russia.
What about you?”
That explained it.
No wonder she was so fierce.
“Stephen.
Stephen Johnson.
Just a passing bounty hunter.
Nothing special.”