After being unconscious for an unknown amount of time, John woke up and found that it was already late, his clothes had been taken off, and Stritch was kneeling next to him to treat his wounds.
Stritch put a handful of herbs in his mouth, chewed it and applied it on John's wound. Suddenly, a sharp pain hit John and he passed out again.
…
It was late at night when he opened his eyes again. Stritch had lit a bonfire and seemed to be preparing to camp here. John had no choice but to close his eyes and fall asleep.
…
The next morning, John couldn't tell whether he was awakened by a nightmare or by the cold air in the forest. He found Stritch staring at him in a daze beside him. When he suddenly woke up, his eyes met and he turned his head shyly.
"One person must stay vigil on such a night." Stritch said hurriedly.
"Mrs. Manstar...you saved me. We have to go back...but...I was injured too badly."
John moved, and although the pain was less than it had been yesterday, it was still difficult to stand, let alone ride home.
"You lie down first, and I will find a way to carry you back."
"Mrs. Manstar...cut off the bearskin...we can't leave empty-handed." John endured the pain and forced a smile.
Hearing this, Stritch held a dagger to the bear skin and cut a series of holes very unskillfully. Logically speaking, this has damaged a perfect bear skin, but John did not mean to blame him at all - Stritch Tricky might be doing this for the first time.
After cutting off the whole bear skin, Stritch spread it out on the snow and looked at the masterpiece with satisfaction.
"Other than a little bit of blood, it's a really exciting trophy."
"Hehe... Mrs. Manstar, this is your credit. It can be said that you personally subdued this beast... which makes our hunting very meaningful."
John remembered the camera the photographer gave him, so he handed it to Stritch and asked her to help take a photo of a bear, which was the first work in the photography album.
After hearing the crisp sound of the shutter, John stood up using the spear as a crutch and tried to lift his feet. The pain in his chest was still severe. He bent over and walked towards Black Pearl, like a rickety old man.
"Don't force yourself, John." Stritch said from the side.
"No matter what, we have to go back to Coulter Village. We may still be in danger if we stay here."
In this way, the two rode back to the camp one after another. Due to exhaustion, John hung his head on the horse and relied on muscle memory to guide Black Pearl forward. Stritch followed closely behind to prevent John from falling off the horse. .
After a two-hour journey, they saw the smoke rising from Coulter Village. The thick snow on the roofs made the village seem to blend in with the snow-capped mountains behind it. It seemed that a heavy snowfall had visited here not long ago.
Before John could enter the village, Thomas came to greet him.
"John, did you have an accident when you didn't come back all night?" Thomas looked tired, and it seemed that he had not slept all night.
John nodded listlessly. Seeing this, Thomas also noticed signs of John's injuries, so he and Stritch helped John off the horse.
"Where is Mr. Fowler?" John looked up and did not see the figure who often wandered around.
"Oh, yes." Thomas seemed to remember something, "Last night when the snow was falling, a dark figure was spying on us in the woods. Liam happened to spot us. He told us to stay put and he and Margaret followed. , look at that guy’s background, it seems they have gone far.”
John guessed that the black figure should be the photographer. He might not have left this place for some reason. If so, John would invite him to the gang as a guest, or even recruit him as a new member.
"I believe they are not missing. No matter who they are, they will know when Mr. Fowler comes back." Thomas said as he moved a stool for John to sit down and rest.
John took out his notebook from his bag, intending to write down the black bear incident. Defeating the black bear this time was one of his few experiences fighting non-human beings. Especially with photos as evidence, it would be much more intuitive to review the memories in the future. For the readers of this notebook, John only thinks of two people, himself and his son Jason Jr. If he can return home to Reagan County alive, he will definitely hand over this educational gift to his son. This diary - in John's mind - is equal to Lange's autobiography.
"Mr. Coster?"
While he was thinking about how to write, John saw Kyle walking over timidly. This black man rarely spoke. He had a family history of being slaves for generations and was usually taciturn.
"I saw the skin you got back. I think it has knife scratches on it, so it might not fetch a good price at a butcher's shop. I happen to know a little bit about making bags with animal skins. I suggest you use this skin Leave it to me and I will create a tight leather bag for you.”
"A bearskin satchel, what a precious thing. How should I repay you?"
"Don't say that sir, you gave us a chance to survive, Dutch van der Linde saved me from the ranchers, and you were the one who actually freed me, these are all I should have done."
"What you give should be rewarded. This is an era of equality and mutual benefit, Kyle."
"I accept your enlightenment, sir. As a reward, I would like to ask you to send me a letter to my relatives."
"Do you still have family in the Great Plains?"
"Yes, my sister, she still works for the white people at Scarlett Meadows."
"Okay, I will send this letter when I pass the post office one day."
With endless thanks again, Kyle bowed and clasped his hands to John, and John had no choice but to keep returning the bow.
"Oh, we share weal and woe."
John didn't know why he felt this way. Even though the Van der Linde Gang was a whole, its members were still more or less in contact with the outside world. In the era of being hunted by Pinkerton detectives, too much contact could still cause burns. Proper isolation But it is very necessary. People's lives can barely go on under the balanced constraints of the two.
