America 1881: They Call Me Legend

Oh, robbery.

Chen Jianqiu stuck his head out of the car window, wanting to see who was engaged in the promising career of robbing trains in this barren mountain.

The train happened to stop at a curve, and two or three people with their faces covered in triangles riding horses, whistling, surrounded the cab of the locomotive.

Two more gunshots were fired, white smoke rose, and several people rushed into the cab.

A body was pushed out of the cab and fell to the ground.

Then, a dozen horses rushed over from the front of the train, and everyone on the horses had a gun.

Together with the people who came down from the cab, they were starting from the front of the car and driving people down one carriage after another.

Passengers in the first carriage raised their hands and were forced out of the front door one by one. One of them walked a little slower and was kicked on the butt by the robber at the door, and fell to the ground.

But then he was dragged up from the ground by his clothes and thrown to the side of the train by another person next to him. His mouth was broken and his face was covered with dirt.

"Be smart, stand next to the train, face inside, and line up in a row!" A man who looked like a leader stood behind them. He wore a rolled-up yellow cowboy hat and was very skilled in his business.

There are about ten people in this gang of robbers, with a clear division of labor.

After all the people in the first carriage were kicked out, the man holding the door rushed in and started rummaging through the luggage carried by the passengers in the carriage.

The passengers stood in a row facing the carriage, holding their hands high against the carriage. They did not dare to move because there were about a dozen guns pointed at them from behind.

Seeing that the people on the carriage were neatly lined up, the yellow cowboy hat threw the spear to one of his horse boys, and with another of his men, began to search the pockets of the trembling passengers one by one.

Behind them followed a short man, holding a bag in his hand. He opened the pockets of the bag with both hands and carried the things found from the passengers.

"Stop shaking!" The yellow cowboy hat was touching the trouser pocket of a pair of glasses. Unexpectedly, the glasses were so frightened that his whole body was like chaff. The person who searched him couldn't find the opening of his trouser pocket.

Another robber punched him in the back rudely.

There was liquid flowing down the legs of the glasses and onto the ground. The soil beside the railway track was wet, and the glasses fell limply to the ground.

The yellow cowboy hat suddenly realized that his hands were also wet.

"What bad luck!" The cowboy hat turned around, bent down, rubbed his hands on the short man's clothes, and then prepared to search for the next one.

But he suddenly heard a laugh.

The laughter came from the car behind him. He followed the sound and looked over. A cowboy was leaning on the car window and looking at the excitement with a playful smile.

The yellow cowboy hat's face suddenly became hot and angry.

How can someone disrespect their profession so much? Disrespect their own efforts?

He grew up on the U.S.-Mexico border. He was poor at home and bullied since he was a child. He made a living by herding cattle for others and petty theft. If he continued like this, his life would probably be the same as that of his father who died of intestinal obstruction.

.

Until the Mexican named Hernandez gave him the first broken gun in his life, so he determined to change the trajectory of his life through his own efforts.

He fought with the sheriff, fell in love with and killed the Indians, he led his own team alone, and now he finally made a name for himself in the industry. He robbed shops and horse-drawn carriages; his robbery skills are known to everyone in the industry.

People don't know.

His $249 reward notice is still posted in the town of Deming, but no one has dared to take it off.

Because of this, he decided to find a train to start with, become famous, become bigger and stronger, and create greater glory.

But now, this cowboy actually laughed at himself and himself, the "God of Robbery" in New Mexico, just because he peed.

He raised his hand and shot at the window.

With a "ding" sound, the bullet hit the roof of the car. The head wearing the hat was still there, looking at him with a smile.

"You three follow me, and the rest of you, continue searching from the first carriage to the back." The yellow cowboy hat gritted his teeth, waved to the people behind him, and angrily headed towards the carriage where Chen Jianqiu was.

At this time, most of the people in Chen Jianqiu's carriage were holding their heads and bending down. Some even heard the sound of gunshots and lay directly on the floor. They were so skillful that it made people feel distressed.

Sean bent down to pick up the cigar that fell on the ground, and asked with a shy face: "Writer, do you still smoke this cigar?"

Although Mark Twain was not as miserable as the others, the expression on his face was still frozen.

He is very nervous.

"Take it, sir," the writer said absently.

Sean was about to take out matches from his pocket, but the cigar in his hand was snatched away by Chen Jianqiu, who was still looking out the window.

The black man stood aside, daring to be angry but afraid to speak.

Chen Jianqiu did not look at the writer, but directly threw the cigar back to him across the aisle and the black man with a look of reluctance.

Suddenly, there was a gunshot and bullets flew through the window.

Another scream erupted in the carriage.

The writer's body also ducked subconsciously, and he looked at the Chinese.

Chen Jianqiu's body and head remained motionless. His hand dragged his chin, and only the side of his face under his hat could be seen.

Was this person stunned?

At first, Chen Jianqiu just wanted to watch the excitement. When he saw the yellow cowboy hat, he took out a gun in anger and was considering whether to move it down.

But after a visual inspection, he found that the direction he was aiming at was ridiculously crooked, so he didn't even think about moving.

He continued chatting with the writer: "By the way, Mr. Mark Twain, where were we talking about just now?"

"I, I said I came to New Mexico to get some materials, and..." the writer replied while observing the movement at the entrance of the carriage.

A burst of footsteps came from outside, and then, the sound arrived before anyone else, and a hoarse voice came from the entrance of the carriage:

"Everyone inside, get out of here."

Those who were squatting or lying on their stomachs all stood up, raised their hands high above their heads, and walked in line towards the entrance of the carriage.

Mark Twain was also preparing to get off the bus.

But Chen Jianqiu held his chin and lazily pressed his hand down towards him.

The writer hesitated for a moment, but in the end he did not move his buttocks from the train chair.

After the last person walked down, the hoarse voice sounded again:

"Is there anyone else? Where is the Chinese cowboy? Get off here!"

No one else got out of the carriage.

"Bang!"

The yellow cowboy hat fired a shot into the air: "Anyone who doesn't come down will be shot without mercy!"

This shot scared another person to the point of peeing in his pants. This time the person fell to the ground and fainted.

The man in the yellow cowboy hat personally rushed up with two of his men. He turned around handsomely and appeared at the door of the carriage, pointing the revolver in his hand into the carriage.

But the sight before him stunned him.

In addition to the nasty Chinese cowboy, there were seven or eight passengers in the carriage.

What made him most intolerable was that among the seven or eight people, except for the curly-haired gentleman with a thick mustache on his lips, no one looked at him.