After an hour of galloping, John was almost exhausted. In addition, the bullet scratch on his calf had already bled enough. He forced his tired eyes to find that there was no one behind him. , but he was alone and Miller had disappeared. Suddenly a wave of sleepiness came over him, and John fell down...
In the evening, many residents of Blackwater Town saw an unusual scene on the street.
A black horse staggered over from a distance. Its hoofs were wrapped in yellow mud, covering up its original color. The horse's head was drooping, obviously exhausted. But fatigue cannot hide its strength. Look at its heroic muscles. Anyone who knows a little about horses will find that it is not a strong draft horse or a work horse, but rather a horse with potential that can win a bet at the Tennessee Horse Racing Festival. There is also a cross-shaped white birthmark on the bridge of the horse's nose, making it easy to distinguish it from other black horses.
On the horse was a foreigner-looking man who seemed to be lying down, with his two riding-booted feet buckled in the stirrups, and his head resting on his neatly combed mane, as if he had fallen asleep. Amid his heavy snoring, the horse gradually got tired of walking and stopped in front of a door. The man fell off the horse to himself. Because the noise was too loud, an old woman opened the door cautiously and tried her best to open the door. Covering her surprise, she dragged him inside.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but the early morning sunlight shines on John’s face through the curtains, casting many mottled light and shadows. John finally pulls himself out of his dream and sees this strange room. He has been dizzy since yesterday on the horse. In the past, he couldn't remember what happened next.
John struggled to stand up, and as he opened the door and walked out, he bumped into an old woman dressed in plain clothes.
"I'm sorry, sir! It's been a day and a night, and you finally woke up! Regarding your injuries, Mr. Benz said it was not serious. And... you were so heavy that I placed you on the floor."
John was confused by these sudden words. It wasn't until he saw the Black Pearl through the open door that he realized that after he and Miller were separated, the Black Pearl did carry him to safety. place.
"You don't have to apologize... It's me. I don't know how to express my gratitude. Madam, my name is John Coster. You can call me John if you like."
"Oh, dear John, I would be very happy if you called me Mrs. McIver. You look very tired. Why don't you sit down for a while?"
"It's an honor, but I have something to do now. Let's talk later, okay? Mrs. McIver." John's head was in a mess. Although he had rested for a long time, he was still exhausted from the long running.
"What a rich town!" John couldn't help but admire as he walked out. There were all kinds of pubs, groceries, shops, and theaters on the street. He thought maybe this was the Blackwater Town that Miller mentioned. John looked down at his dirty coat and then at his dirty horse not far away. These were not at all in harmony with the "richness" around him. Perhaps due to the sequelae of his lethargy, he walked aimlessly down the street, his eyes blurred, and almost hit a telephone pole. Just as he looked away from the telephone pole, he noticed a notice posted on it.
wanted
life or death
John Coster, a six-foot-tall former Pinkerton detective who unlawfully shot and killed an officer while on duty, is hereby ordered.
Reward: $500 (with a sketch of John’s face)
"Miller is indeed right. If these wanted posters are posted in Reagan County..." John determined in his heart the need to leave home. In order to avoid unnecessary trouble, John put his head in his hood and walked quickly to Mrs. McIver's residence. Mrs. McIver opened the door for him enthusiastically with a smile on her face.
"Madam, did you read the notice on the street? I can't stay here any longer. I don't want to bring danger to anyone!" As soon as John walked into the house, he quickly turned around and closed the door and locked it. Mrs. McIver rushed up in one stride, grabbed John's right biceps tightly with both hands, looked at him with pleading eyes, hesitated for a moment and then said.
"No, I'm not afraid. I believe you have your own difficulties, right? There's his shadow on you." Mrs. McIlver freed one hand to wipe away her tears. While sobbing, she said: "Please forgive me for being so excited. I just can't help but miss him - my Mr. McIver, you are so much like him! It's a pity that the man I loved died of a misunderstanding."
Mrs. McIver then sat John down at the table and offered him some of the bread, while she continued to tell the story of her poor husband.
"Those Skinner Brothers, those guys who worked for nothing, took away my husband's wood in Strawberry Town and tortured him to death. Those bounty hunters were even more hateful. When they arrived, my husband was lying on the ground wailing for help. , those blind men actually thought he was an accomplice of the skinning gang and killed him on the spot, and even received a reward of 25 US dollars. John, I once firmly believed that God arranged the same fate for everyone, but now I don’t think so at all .”
"I regret."
"So, I don't believe anything on the wanted poster anymore."
Robbery, wood, bounty hunters... John leaned against the window sill and thought about a lot that night.
Mr. McIver, Mrs. McIver, even himself, and many victims are living in the tragedy of this country's social changes and the changing of the times.
