Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 16 My First Asset in California

This little incident was quickly forgotten by Lawson.

Because something more important occupied his mind.

The thirty British martyrs finally completed the formalities.

Each person paid twenty dollars.

After paying a total of $600 in fees, they each applied for their own plot of land at the Strawberry Land Administration Office in accordance with the Homestead Act.

160 acres per person.

Thirty people, totaling four thousand eight hundred acres.

Lawson did the conversion in his mind: one acre is approximately equal to 6.07 mu.

These 4,800 acres are a vast amount of land, which is close to 30,000 mu!
The land title deed was right in front of him.

The above are thirty different English names.

But there is only one true owner of this vast land.

That's him, Lawson.

This was his first truly legally protected business in the United States in 1878.

It's not like stolen money, which is gone once it's spent.

This is solid land, the cornerstone of his future empire.

Lawson felt he had to go and see for himself.

It's a strange feeling, like a man going to meet his bride, whom he has never met but with whom he is already engaged.

Excited, looking forward to it.

He changed into clean work pants, put on a thick flannel shirt, and wore a wide-brimmed gray felt hat.

The Colt revolver was tucked into its holster at his waist, and the heavy weight of it gave him a sense of security.

"Ergou, Sangou, prepare the horses, come with me."

This was the first time since he came to this era that he had truly left the farm to personally explore this land.

Although he already knew the area around Strawberry Town like the back of his hand through the assassins, experiencing it firsthand was a completely different matter.

Three fine horses trotted away from Mrs. Marlene's farm with light, quick steps.

The California sun is bright but not scorching.

The distant mountains stretch endlessly.

Rosen sat on his horse, letting the breeze caress his face.

In order to connect the thirty plots of land into one, the assassins chose to claim locations slightly to the north.
It's about ten kilometers away from Strawberry Town.

The further north you go, the sparser the population becomes.

Horse hooves pounded on the dirt road, raising a light dust.

They finally arrived at their destination.

Reining in his reins, Lawson gazed at the land that belonged to him, momentarily lost in thought.

It's too vast.

An endless expanse of gently sloping land unfolds before your eyes.

The golden wild grass grew taller than half a person.

The soil is fertile and has a healthy dark brown color.

San Gou dismounted and casually grabbed a handful of soil. He squeezed it hard, and oily water seeped out from between his fingers.

Several plump wild rabbits were startled from the grass and darted away into the distance.

Everything here remains in its most primitive and wild state.

There were no fences, no houses, and no signs of cultivation.

Lawson dismounted and stepped onto the soft ground.

The solid feeling underfoot was reassuring.

Lawson paced slowly across the land, his mind racing.

This area is sunny with a large temperature difference between day and night, and the soil appears to be well-drained sandy loam.

He glanced at the orientation of the distant hillside.

An idea popped into his mind.

Plant grapes.

Then they make wine.

He knew how glorious California's future wine industry would be.

The legend of Napa Valley began to be written in this era.

The terroir here is simply made for grapes.

If he starts planning now, decades later, he will hold not just a farm, but a vast winery empire that lays golden eggs.

Once the idea took hold, it could not be stopped.

However, a practical problem soon arose.

"Boss, there's a water shortage here."

San Gou pointed into the distance and said, "Such a large area of ​​land can't be sustained by rain alone."

Lawson looked in the direction he was pointing, and his brows furrowed. Irrigation is the lifeblood of developing agriculture.

There are no large rivers flowing through this land.

He remembered that on the map the assassins had surveyed earlier, there was a river of moderate size further north.

"Let's go over and have a look."

The three remounted their horses and rode off towards the river.

After traveling a few more kilometers, the terrain gradually became flat.

Suddenly, a vast orchard came into view.

The neat rows of apple trees stretched to the horizon, laden with heavy, bright red fruit.

Judging by this, a bumper harvest is just around the corner.

This well-managed orchard stands in stark contrast to the barren land of Lawson.

"Damn, what a rich guy." Lawson whistled.

They continued along the edge of the orchard and soon found the river.

The problem lies upstream, where a dam made of logs and mud has brutally blocked the river.

Most of the water was diverted into a man-made canal, which meandered towards the vast apple orchard.

“I see.” Lawson narrowed his eyes.

The river's water source is crucial for the full development of their 4,800 acres of land.

Just as he was gazing at the dam, the sound of rapid hoofbeats approached from afar.

Hey! What are you guys doing sneaking around like that?!

Lawson turned his head and saw a burly white man riding a tall horse charging towards them.

The man was about forty years old, with a fleshy face and a slovenly beard. He was holding a Winchester repeating rifle, its dark muzzle pointed directly at them.

"Get off my land!"

The farmer reined in his horse and pointed his gun at them.

Lawson didn't move; he calmly observed the other person.

“Sir, don’t be nervous, we’re just passing by.” He asked in fluent English, “Excuse me, is this apple orchard your property?”

The farmer was clearly taken aback by the fact that this young man, who looked like a Chinese laborer, could speak such fluent English.

"That's right, this is all my territory. What are you doing here?"

"We just bought a piece of land in the south."

Lawson pointed south, "See this river? Come and check out the water source. Sir, did you cut off this river?"

"I did it, so what?"

The farmer held his chin high, "This river flows through my land, so it's mine! I can use it however I want!"

"Sir, you've misunderstood."

Lawson's smile remained unchanged. "That land was previously unclaimed, so it was understandable that you cut off the river to irrigate the orchard. But now, that land has an owner. We plan to cultivate it, and it will be very inconvenient without water."

Lawson was very polite, as if he were discussing something.

But these words were like lighting a powder keg.

The farmer was furious and immediately raised his rifle.

"FUCK! I knew you yellow-skinned monkeys were up to no good!"

He roared, "That river is mine! Every drop of water in it is mine!"

I won't share it with you!
I hate Chinese people. You're like locusts, get out!
Get out of here right now!

"If you don't get out of here, I'll blow your head off!"

Almost simultaneously, Er Gou and San Gou drew their revolvers from their waists, spurred their horses forward, and stood in front of Lawson.

If Lawson had just given the thought, they would have made this insolent fellow's head explode.

Lawson raised his hand, signaling them not to act rashly.

He gave the enraged farmer a deep look, and his smile only grew wider.

"Don't be impulsive, my friend."

“If you say the river is yours, then it is yours. Let’s go.”

He turned and left with Er Gou and San Gou.

The horses' hooves pounded the dirt road with a dull rhythm as the three rode on in silence.

“I hate racists. That white pig is disgusting.”

A smile returned to the corners of Lawson's mouth.

"You know, with the world in such chaos these days, it sounds pretty normal for a farm that's about to have a good harvest to be suddenly robbed by a gang of ruthless bandits, right?"

Er Gou succinctly replied: "Normal!"

San Gou chimed in, "That's perfectly normal."

"That's good."

With a gentle tug on the reins, the horse began to move again.

(End of this chapter)