Late at night, the moon was hidden in a dark cloud, and there was a rustle in the woods. A young woman wearing a tutu walked quickly through the dense forest covered with leaves. Fear and anxiety appeared on her face, but she still Moving forward tirelessly...
Ella once again passed the red and green house of the three brothers - that gloomy and dark building. She had paced back and forth in this area several times tonight. She kept muttering the names of the five people she was tasked with welcoming. The five people: John, Miller, Dutch, Fantasy, Tarn.
Time passes with prayers...
At the last moment before dawn, when Ella returned to camp to fiddle with her skirts, the Van der Linde gang finally waited for the long-awaited sound of horse hooves.
"Boss, Ella, we just escaped from the hands of death...we need a rest urgently!" Dutch rode forward and shouted to the surrounding Vanderlinde gang.
The women came to the horse and were responsible for helping each of the brave warriors off the horse. The one who assisted John was a fat lady, Catherine. She winked at him, and when she grabbed John's arms, Catherine With huge arm strength, he pulled him close to his big breasts and big belly. Because he was too tired, John did not resist. In fact, he knew that when Catherine took the initiative to do some inappropriate things to him when he first entered the world, this fat woman He developed a "good impression" of John.
When John was lying on his mat, he saw Ella walking up to Dutch with tears in her eyes as if she had foreseen something.
Dutch responded coldly - very quietly, probably no one could hear it, but Ella's tears were like broken pearls. She squatted down and covered her face and cried. From this, John guessed that Tarn died. thing.
After a while, sadness climbed onto the faces of the gang members. Everyone returned to their beds angrily and said good night to each other with tears in their eyes...
A sad night passed like this, and there was an equally unpleasant morning. At noon, John woke up from his dream. The sound of yesterday's gunfire was still lingering in his ears like a nightmare. He stood up and suddenly felt A moment of dizziness. After finally regaining my composure, I looked around and found that everyone was working seriously, except for some women who kept touching their swollen eyes.
"Mr. Coster, lunch is stew, it's in the pot over there." Ella came over at some point and tapped John's right shoulder with her slender index finger.
"Oh, okay," John replied.
Ella nodded in understanding, and John saw two big blue eyes on that small and delicate face. Ella's delicate skin showed a curvy curve under the support of her jawbone, even though the eye sockets were swollen. There is a faint red line, but it still does not affect Ella's interpretation of the definition of beauty.
John looked at her thin back and called her: "Just call me John."
"Well, John!"
While taking a break during the meal, John took a closer look at the others, including Baoliqi and Bibo who were swimming in the river, Fantasy who was playing with a sharp knife and poking his fingers with a black man, and Thomas, a Mexican who was sitting and observing the flames. Ella and Zerich's mistress Grimes were eating under a tent, Catherine was telling Bos unfunny jokes, Miller was brushing his horse, and he was drunk and lying under a tree. Dutch... Everyone lives their own life, and John wants to know what Tarn likes to do. Although they have known each other for a short time, the child tolerates John and does not like others to tease him. Now that the child was buried in a grave made of mineral soil and coal, John felt an unspeakable guilt and even a little bit of self-blame. How did Dutch react to the death of a gang leader? The answer was right in front of John: the drunkard was leaning on a big yellow tree, with his legs spread like a dustpan. Just looking at his strong upper body, one would have thought he had been cut off from the waist and stood on the ground, admiring himself and his waist, which were only a few inches apart. The legs connected by nerves and muscles are just like the defeated Athenian general in the Peloponnesian War, who was cut in half and then stood in the vast sea of sand and bled to death. But the only thing that was different about Dutch was that he was still full of energy even when he was drunk. His body was still shaking after being anesthetized by alcohol. His lips were flipping up and down, and he was rubbing his tongue and spouting out endless drunken words.
"Micah Bell, you said Arthur is a black-lunged man, but you are a black-hearted man known to both women and children. I am so glad that I beat you into a sieve on the Hagen Snow Mountain. Oh... My dear Arthur, you are My son, without your company, I have aged very fast in the past few years. I really hope you wake up from that damn illness and do it for me... can you do it for me? I admit that I was distracted at that time. , I was lost in the desire to cash out Grizzly's railroad bonds, and I was confused by Mayor Lemieux and Sheriff Lambert, resourceful as they were, Brontë's death had thrown them into disarray. Haha, God knows I would have pistol-whipped that beast into the water in Annesburg! I always have a plan, always... I must say no one dares begrudge me my intelligence, we could have chosen to go to Tahiti Engage in planting industry, and when we hold golden mangoes in our hands in summer, I can guarantee that you, a simple and honest cowboy, will have a smile on your face. After experiencing so many difficulties, this is the life that should greet us, isn't it... "
Is this crazy talk? Maybe not, but for John, he didn't know any of the names in the words. Just like the secret logic in Brett Hart's short stories, as an outsider, he couldn't figure out the connections between the characters. In detail, if you have not experienced that kind of life, it is easy to confuse beggar A with beggar B, and attribute the romantic deeds of technician C to technician D for no reason - on the western grasslands, if the cowboys have no personality , it is easy to be confused.
"Young man!"
John felt someone calling him from behind. He turned around and found an old man with white hair wearing a formal suit. In John's limited impression of the Van der Linde Gang, this person had not appeared before.
The old man looked up at the drunken Dutch, then lowered his head and shook his head: "Hey...it seems like he has many stories. Fantasy always said that he is the collective salvation of an era."
"He is a complicated man." John agreed.
"Well, as you said... young man, how long did you come here? Oh... I left temporarily due to some matters a few months ago. I remember you didn't come at that time. By the way! My name is Hutton. The pastor elected by this group of people is responsible for teaching them the will of God. Facts have proved that it is necessary to do this. Who are you?"
"My name is John Coster, and I'm a hired thug for the Van der Linde gang. Oh, I guess that's a bit direct, but it hits the nail on the head."
"No matter who you are, time will explain everything. I don't want to be like some old people who brag about their wasted time all day long just because they were born a few years earlier than others. What I want is equality, and what young people pursue is the same thing. "
John made an ugly expression: "Pursuing the same holy religion? I'm so glad I'm not a young man myself."
"Do you believe in Jesus? Sir, do you have a soul?"
“If I’m holding a Bible all day long, I’ll never be able to pick up a gun to protect you oldies.”
Hutton was about to retort, but when the words came to his lips, he didn't say them out. He simply spread his hands and made an indifferent gesture: "That's true."
John continued to chat with the old man for a while, and he found that Hutton's words always revealed his admiration for Jesus and the gods. To put it simply, Hutton was a man who spoke in a rigid manner, as if the Bible was the most important thing in his life. The only holy book.
John climbed the hillside where Dutch liked to stand and think. He didn't know what decision the legendary leader would make next, especially at such a special moment. Dutch - will the gang prosper? Or will the Van der Linde Gang shrink a little by continuing unnecessary sacrifices? As Pastor Hutton said, these will take time to prove...
