Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 35 A Cup of Wine Leads to a Headache

Let's rewind to forty minutes ago.

Outside of Strawberry Town.

In a dense forest shrouded in thick fog.

Sonoma County Sheriff Miller.

He and his team of police officers are hiding here.

All the horses were tied to the trees.

Their mouths were covered with thick cloth or burlap sacks to prevent them from making any noise.

The officers leaned against the damp tree trunks in twos and threes, wiping and checking their weapons over and over again.

"Damn it, what on earth is going on?"

A young officer complained to his colleague, "Those good-for-nothings in Marin County made their own mess, and now we Sonoma County people have to clean up their mess! It's outrageous!"

"Being more generous is fine too."

His companion spat on the ground: "For this damn mission, everyone in Malin County only gets a ten-dollar subsidy."

Ten dollars! That's fucking stingy!

"You want us to risk our lives against those devils who killed Detective Pinkerton for this little bit of money? Why don't they just die themselves!"

Discontent spread rapidly.

"This fog is so damp and heavy, it's so cold my balls are practically shrinking back."

Another police officer rubbed his hands and said, "Those bastards from Malin County, they didn't even bother to bring us some alcohol to warm us up. I don't believe they can resist drinking while they're in town."

"drink wine?"

A burly man with a full beard next to him let out a lewd chuckle: "Brother, you're too naive. I bet he's not only drinking now, but he might also be having a good time with some pretty young widow in town, having fun in the fortifications."

The officers' resentment grew even stronger.

They came here to risk their lives, but they weren't even given a decent welcome, while those good-for-nothings were enjoying themselves in their comfortable homes.

What the hell is this?

An officer who was on good terms with Sheriff Miller approached him: "Boss, did you bring any alcohol? Give me a drink to give me some courage. If a fight breaks out later, I'll have more strength to twist those Irish bastards' necks."

Sheriff Miller, who was resting with his eyes closed, snapped irritably, "Get lost! I want a drink myself! Where did you get the alcohol?"

Seeing his men's grumbling faces, he finally couldn't help but stand up and hissed, "Shut the hell up! Stop complaining! This is a defense order from the state government, a mission! Nobody can refuse!"

"Don't think of yourselves as working your lives for Malin County."

That damned gang can massacre Strawberry Town today, and they can massacre our Sonoma County tomorrow!
Don't forget how the Wildfire sheriff and police officers died!

Helping Malin County is fucking helping ourselves!
Most of you are also sheriffs and police officers in various small towns.

I ask you, do you ever want to end up like those unlucky bastards in Strawberry Town, hanging from a streetlamp by a gang?

These words finally had an effect.

The threat of death is far more persuasive than a ten-dollar subsidy.

Everyone quieted down.

at this time.

In the corner, a police officer, probably thirsty, quietly took out his water pouch, unscrewed the cap, and was about to take a sip.

His companion twitched his nose and snatched his water pouch away.

"You're so unfair!"

His companion grumbled, "Hiding good stuff and trying to hoard it all! It's wine! I can smell it!"

After saying that, he ignored the other person's objections, tilted his head back, and took a big gulp from the spout.

"Oh! FUCK!"

He let out a delighted shout, his eyes lighting up: "It's 'Old Crow' whiskey! That's fucking strong! You've struck it rich, haven't you?"

The officer whose water bag had been snatched quickly grabbed it back and shouted, "Bullshit! Who said I'm stingy? Do you think I'm that kind of person?"

He glanced around at his colleagues who had been drawn to him, raised the water pouch in his hand, and said, "This mission is also a way to avenge our brothers who were killed in Wildfire Town! I specially bought this bottle of good wine at the best shop in town, just so I could share it with the brothers before we take action!"

He unscrewed the cap.

A rich aroma of wine instantly filled the damp, cold air.

"Brothers, I may have limited funds, but I absolutely cannot buy those inferior goods to fool everyone. Here's some old crow, one bite each. Don't be shy, warm yourselves up first! That way you'll have the strength to go kill those Irish sons of bitches later!"

The surrounding police officers immediately laughed, and looked at him with friendly eyes.

In this foggy, damp, and unsettling weather...

Being able to drink a sip of strong, good liquor is truly a wonderful thing.

"Well done, kid!"

"That's great! Count me in!"

We're all roughnecks, so let's not look down on each other.

The enormous leather water bladder, which looked like it could hold a liter of water, was passed from hand to hand among the twenty-odd men.

Everyone took a big gulp from the spout.

When it was Sheriff Miller's turn, he drank several more sips without any hesitation.

He was the sheriff, and nobody said anything about him.

The spicy liquor slid down my throat, turning into a warm current that instantly dispelled the chill.

"what!"

He let out a satisfied burp, patted the officer on the shoulder, and praised, "You've got a good eye, kid! This is definitely good wine. Speaking of which, you look a bit unfamiliar."

The officer said sheepishly, "Sir, I only joined the police force after the Wildfire Town sheriff was killed. I hate those gangsters! I want to avenge them!"

"Okay! Be ambitious!"

Sheriff Miller was very pleased and patted him heavily on the shoulder.

After drinking, the atmosphere became much more lively, and everyone seemed to have gained more courage.

Sheriff Miller gave them a few more words of advice, telling them to be vigilant.

As soon as the gunshots rang out in Strawberry Town, everyone immediately set off to flank the gang from behind and wipe them out completely.

What follows is a long wait.

The officers chatted casually, boasting about their romantic escapades.

Sheriff Miller leaned against a large tree, listening to his men's ramblings, and felt his eyelids getting heavier and heavier.

An irresistible drowsiness washed over me.

His head lolled to the side, and he fell into a deep sleep.

"Hey, look, the boss is asleep."

One of the officers winked and whispered, "Could it be that he was too busy with his wife last night?"

"Hahaha..." Everyone let out a suppressed laugh.

"You bastard, how dare you joke about the sheriff? Watch out, he might kick your ass when he wakes up."

"Wait a minute... Damn it, why am I so sleepy too? I don't have a wife..."

One after another...

As if infected, the police officers who were just bragging and joking collapsed to the ground one after another, snoring heavily.

It only took a short while.

Except for the kid from Wildfire Town who brought alcohol, everyone else collapsed.

His honest and simple expression had vanished, replaced by a cold indifference in his eyes.

He kicked his companion who had just grabbed the wine.

"Stop pretending."

"You already spat out that drink. Get up and get to work."

His companion chuckled and leaped to his feet.

He pulled a sharp hunting knife from his lower back and deftly twirled it between his fingers.

"What did the boss tell you to put in the drinks? It worked like a charm! In just a short while, it knocked out all these idiots!"

Rosen from Mrs. Marlene's farm said softly:
"Chraldehyde hydrate".

(End of this chapter)