America 1883: The Western Homeland

Chapter 36 Tom Gets Involved in the Rangers' Trouble

Tie him up!

Before Captain Walker could finish speaking, several leather ropes were already coiling towards Tom like venomous snakes!

The boy suddenly spun around, and the rope whistled as it whipped a circle of rangers away!

A blur swept to Frank's side, and the cold glint of the dagger was already pressed against the old man's Adam's apple!

"Who dares to touch him?" Tom's voice was icy. "I'll send him to meet his maker!"

The chilling sensation of the blade against his skin made Frank's eyes widen: "My God! Walker! Did you see that? That boy's incredible speed!"

"Shut up!" Captain Walker pointed his revolver at Tom's forehead, and the hammers of more than a dozen Colts clicked repeatedly as the triggers were pulled until they turned white!

"What you should be worried about now is whether his hands are shaking!"

Tom laughed, the knife tip dancing against Frank's carotid artery: "Want to make a bet? Let's see if your guns are faster, or my knife?"

Walker's eye twitched, and his thumb rubbed the hammer.

"Walker," Frank suddenly said in a deep voice, "he didn't do anything wrong."

"Disobeying orders means hanging!" the captain bared his fangs.

"Enough!" Frank roared, "Do I need to remind you why we came to this godforsaken place?"

Walker's face turned ashen, and he finally forced out the order through clenched teeth: "...Put away the weapons."

The gun barrel lowered reluctantly, but Tom's dagger remained motionless.

"Kid, you can move the knife now," Frank advised gently.

"No." The boy exerted force with his wrist, pushing the knife forward a few more inches. "Loach!"

The beast charged forward as if it had been set on fire, its hooves kicking up a curtain of sand!

"I have to take this man with me!" Tom grabbed Frank and quickly retreated!

"You dare!!" The moment Walker raised his gun, more than a dozen gun barrels were pointed at Tom!

"Stop it, you fucking bastards!!" Frank's roar sent dust flying everywhere.

He turned and stared at Tom, a hint of admiration in his eyes: "You killed the bandits?"

"Yes."

I believe you.

Tom was taken aback. What tricks was the old man up to?

"But I still have other things to do," Frank said, patting his knife-wielding hand. "I can't get involved in this mess right now."

Walker gritted his teeth and waved his hand under the old man's gaze, and the rangers reluctantly dispersed to search the corpses.

"Let me go now," Tom said, his blade still gleaming, "or else..."

"What's your name?" Frank asked casually. "You've got some nerve, barging into a smuggling operation in San Angelo all by yourself."

"San Angelo!" Tom's pupils constricted. "How far is this godforsaken place from Fort Worth?!"

All the rangers froze.

Frank squinted at him, "From Fort Worth?"

Tom nodded: "We're lost."

The desert suddenly fell silent.

Countless gazes were fixed on the boy, the unlucky fellow who had stepped into hell all by himself.

"Not far," Frank dusted off his collar and chuckled, "It'll take seven days on horseback."

Click.

Something snapped in Tom's mind.

"loach!!!"

A deafening roar tore through the sky!

The mule had already taken off at full speed, its tail whipping like a propeller, and in the blink of an eye it became a black dot on the horizon.

"You stupid mule!!" The boy pounced like a mad tiger!

Dust swirled like a yellow dragon, figures chased after mules, curses swirled in the wind, and grass pelted the wilderness:

"When I catch you, I'll stew you alive!!"

"Ah!!" The mule's braying was as joyful as a song.

Frank slowly straightened the wrinkled collar of his suit, a glint of shrewdness in his eyes: "Youth is truly wonderful."

"You really believe that kid single-handedly took down this group of thugs?" Walker frowned, his mustache trembling in the dust.

The old man chuckled: "Otherwise what? How about you have your men pry open the dead man's eyelids and ask him?"

"Boss!" The ranger wiped his face with his sleeve, spat out a grain of sand, "No 'goods'!"

Walker's tense shoulders suddenly relaxed: "Not the target."

"Thank goodness." Frank squinted at the desert, where Tom was pulling on a mule's ear and cursing, the sand swirling into a comical vortex.

He suddenly raised his voice: "Hey kid! Want to eat a steak in Fort Worth?"

Tom looked up, panting, as the wild horse kicked away the loach that had come close.

Run? That stupid mule betrayed us long ago!

Tom wiped his face and nodded resignedly.

"Listen carefully!" Frank gestured the route, "Go north along the Pecos River, turn left when you see the mesona fossil..."

Tom quickly compared the route the old Indian man had taken in his mind, and two different routes flashed through his head!

He impatiently pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at the time.

Click.

With the crisp sound of the watch cover popping open, Frank's gray-blue pupils suddenly shrank to pinpoints!

"Child," Frank's voice was taut like a bowstring, "this watch... is it yours?"

The desert fell into a deathly silence, and twenty pairs of eyes were fixed on the gilded watch case.

"Loot." Tom casually pointed his thumb at the pile of corpses. "I looted them from them."

"F**k!"

Walker's Colt slammed into Tom's temple like lightning.

But then the boy spun around like a ghost.

Frank was locked to his chest by his iron-like arms, becoming a human shield!

"Walker!" The old man roared, causing the gun barrel to tremble slightly.

"Are you deaf?!" the captain exclaimed, his eyes bloodshot. "He killed Pinkerton's spies!"

Frank sneered, "If you dare point your gun at civilians again, I wouldn't mind making you eat sand on the border!"

The taste of blood seeped from between Walker's teeth, and the look in his eyes as he holstered his gun at Tom was as if he wanted to tear him apart.

"Now," the old man patted the arm that was choking him, his calmness chilling, "can you tell me from which corpse this watch came?"

Tom still held him back half a step: "Tell me first, what exactly are you doing?"

"The supply convoy has been hijacked," Frank said calmly.

Tom understood immediately—it was those Gatling guns!

"The one wearing the watch is a Pinkerton undercover agent," the old man sighed. "He's been lying in wait for a month; this morning he should be delivering his final message..."

"What a coincidence," the boy grinned, revealing his gleaming white teeth, "that bastard hugged me with his fist on fire!"

The wind whipped up sand that lashed against the pocket watch case, and the gilded eagle emblem dripped a dark, blood-red light under the setting sun.

"Because of you!" Captain Walker's temples bulged with veins, and he lashed his whip across the carriage shaft, sending splinters of wood flying like bone fragments. "My three months of tracking have been nothing but feeding the vultures!"

Tom raised an eyebrow. The weapons had been hijacked three months ago?

"Tsk," Tom flicked the whip from his ear, "Looks like the bandits' horses are much faster than you guys."

Even Frank's lips twitched.

That guy always stabs you in the heart!

"Alright, Captain Walker, we should start looking for something!"

"Search!" Walker forced out the order through clenched teeth, and the rangers pounced on the carriage like hungry wolves.

The axe cleaved the car body like splitting open a coffin lid!

Piles of gun parts were exposed to the air!

"Found it!!" Cheers echoed through the desert.

Tom leaned against the wreckage with his arms crossed, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

Laugh now, but you'll be crying later!

"Where's that Gatling gun?" Walker suddenly kicked over an empty wooden crate, sending metal ammunition boxes scattering across the floor. "A whole crate of bullets! Two heavy machine guns! How the hell did that one just vanish into thin air?!"

The roar startled the loach, making it prick up its ears, while the wild mare pawed at its hooves in frustration.

The captain grabbed Tom by the collar, spitting blood-tinged saliva in his face: "Where did you hide the rest of the goods?!"

"You've asked the wrong person." Tom let him grab him, his eyes as cold as frozen stones at the bottom of a river.

Frank pressed down on Walker's trembling wrist: "Son, you really haven't seen any other teams?"

"No," Tom said firmly.

He remembered clearly that there were only these few broken-down vehicles in the desert.

"The clue..." Walker said slowly, his nails digging into his palms until they bled, "...is gone."