The encounter with the wolf pack left Stephen utterly exhausted and the white horse scared out of its wits.
The poor thing had been targeted by a coyote right from the start.
Stephen didn’t have time to help it.
In its panic, the horse lashed out with its iron-shod hooves and struck a coyote hard in the belly.
Kicking aside the unlucky animal lying on the ground, its insides torn apart by the blow, Stephen quickly took out some quality horse feed from his bag to calm it down.
Only then did Stephen realize he still hadn’t given the horse a name.
“Ugh, naming things is such a pain.
I hate it the most.” Stephen rubbed his head, feeling a headache coming on.
“Alright, that settles it.
You’ll be called Snowy.” After thinking it over for a while, that was the name he came up with…
Snowy let out a couple of whinnies at Stephen, though it was unclear whether it approved or not.
Since there was no clear objection, Stephen took it as agreement.
After soothing Snowy and letting it enjoy a satisfying meal, Stephen mounted up and set off for his next destination.
That destination was, of course, the black market.
Strawberry Town naturally had a black market.
In fact, every town had one nearby.
Valentine’s black market was a saloon, Saint Denis had one disguised as a general store, and Rhodes’ was hidden in the slums.
Each place had its own style, and Strawberry Town’s black market was a train station.
That’s right, a station located north of Strawberry Town, right on the border with Valentine.
Wallace Station.
Because Strawberry Town enforced prohibition, anyone who wanted to drink or profit from selling alcohol had to look outside the town.
In the end, they naturally chose this remote station near the state line as their base.
That was also why Sam had said he didn’t want his family getting off at Wallace Station.
The place was simply too chaotic.
It was the black market.
If it wasn’t shady, it wouldn’t deserve the name.
Criminals, heavy drinkers, and bounty hunters like Stephen all gathered there, each searching for what they wanted.
Wallace Station wasn’t far.
It lay just east of Valley View Cliff, and following the stream east would take you straight there.
Riding Snowy at full speed, Stephen arrived at the station just before nightfall.
The place was as lively as ever.
Several men who clearly looked like trouble loitered nearby.
Three or four drunks staggered into the distance, with a few shady figures quietly trailing behind them.
Those people were unlikely to end well.
“Looks like our bounty hunter is about to make a fortune.”
Mr.
Johnny, the station’s ticket agent and part-time black market guard, looked at Snowy beneath Stephen and said with surprise, “I’ve never seen such a beautiful horse.”
And it was true.
When it came to looks, Snowy was impressive.
“Not bad.
Just worth a hundred or two dollars.” Stephen said with an infuriatingly smug expression.
“As for this guy, nothing special.”
That kind of humblebrag immediately earned a serious protest from Johnny.
According to him, he couldn’t even earn two hundred dollars after half a year of hard work.
“Anything interesting happen lately?” Stephen handed him a cigarette and tossed two dollars onto the counter.
That was the rule.
Information always had a price.
“That’s not enough.” Unusually, Johnny didn’t take the money right away.
Grinning, he said, “Buddy, you’re a regular.
I’ve got some important intel for you, but this isn’t enough.
I want ten dollars.”
“Oh, come on.
What kind of news could you have here?
Don’t tell me someone robbed a train.” Stephen shook his head.
“My God, how did you know?” Johnny said in shock.
“This is exclusive information.”
“To keep it quiet, that big capitalist Cornwall even brought in Pinkerton to lock the whole area down.”
Stephen already knew.
He even knew who had done it, and where those people were now.
“Just a private source.
Don’t ask.” Stephen waved it off.
“Do you know about the murder at Big Valley a few days ago?”
“Big Valley?
Murders happen there all the time.
Which one are you talking about?”
Johnny spread his hands.
“I can at most tell you who usually operates around there.”
“Tell me.
I need that information.” Stephen pulled out several more bills and tossed them onto the bar.
Johnny hesitated for a moment as he looked at the money, then lowered his voice.
“I don’t know exactly who did it, but I can make a good guess.”
“North of Big Valley, near Hanging Dog Ranch, there’s a family living in the woods.
An old woman and her four sons.”
“They often rob travelers.
If something happens there, nine times out of ten it’s connected to them.”
Johnny leaned in close and whispered, “Don’t sell me out.
I still need to survive here.”
“Relax.
You know what kind of person I am.” Stephen patted his shoulder appreciatively and turned to leave.
“Heading out this late?
Not coming in for a drink?
Our boss just got a shipment of imported liquor today.
I hear it’s strong.
Even stronger than Russian vodka.”
Johnny called out from behind him, and Stephen stopped.
Imported liquor.
“Then I should give it a proper try.” He turned around without hesitation and walked into the station.
Following the enthusiastic Johnny into a room inside, Johnny felt around on the floor for a moment, then pulled up a floorboard to reveal a staircase leading down.
As soon as it opened, a mixed scent of food, alcohol, and faint perfume drifted up.
At the same time, waves of noisy chatter from drinkers echoed upward.
Stephen walked down slowly.
Before long, a crude yet lively underground saloon appeared before him.
Sometimes, you really had to admire human creativity…
Stephen ordered a glass of the so-called imported liquor and took a careful sip.
Honestly, the taste was nothing special.
Just pure intensity.
Yet that very flavor made him feel oddly immersed.
“Damn it, Micah Bell!
You can’t drink anymore!
We still have to scout ahead.
This isn’t why we came out here!”
“You little punk, it’s not your place to lecture me!”
Just as Stephen began to feel slightly tipsy, two familiar voices reached his ears.
He looked up.
Well, well.
Weren’t those Lenny and Micah Bell, the ones Dutch had sent out to scout?
What a coincidence running into them here.