The owner of this place is Hochson, a militiaman.
If it was Max’s request, I could have made an even more elaborate setting.
Slurp.
Pour a glass and clink your glasses without saying a word.
The rough, strong flavor of the whiskey running down my throat lingered in my mouth.
“But what is your name?”
“Isn’t that asking too soon?”
The bouncer chuckled and put a cigar in his mouth.
“Colin Frank Madsen.”
“This is the first time I’ve heard of it.”
“You’ve never heard of it. Call me Colin.”
He set the mood as if something was going to happen,
It was really the first time I heard that name.
“So, what was the favor you mentioned earlier?”
Colin blew out a long puff of smoke and opened his mouth.
“Have you ever heard of the subway? I work there.”
It’s not the Galaxy Railroad, it’s the Underground Railroad.
‘Of course I know.’
A network that helped black slaves escape.
Of course, there were no railroads in this era.
It was so named because the escaped slaves disappeared from public view as if they had gone underground.
But it is an organization shrouded in secrecy that the general public knows nothing about.
Max blinked, pretending not to know.
The bouncer had a world-weary expression, but now his face was quite serious.
“So what do you do there?”
“Station conductors. Their job is to take ticket holders to the station.”
The language was slangy, but Max understood it all. In short, his role was to guide the black slaves to safety.
It was a look that didn’t suit Bouncer, or Colin at all.
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“When the shepherd finds a ticket, he brings it to me, the conductor. I then move the passenger to a safer station, and the wheel keeps turning.”
“……Are you singing a song?”
A station conductor on a subway.
Colin Frank Madsen used the slang term for what he did: How to help black slaves escape.
“You know the Fugitive Slave Law that was enacted five years ago?”
Max nodded.
A law allowing slave owners to directly capture escaped slaves from the South who went to the North.
It was an evil law that prohibited the testimony of runaway slaves and jury trials, so if a free black person was falsely accused of being a slave, he or she would not even be given a chance to defend himself.
And after that law was enacted, the pursuit of slave traders and slave hunters became more vicious. Stories of black slaves who were killed or captured flowed out of Colin’s mouth.
The more I listen to it, the more it feels like I’m getting on the subway.
Being given orders and being tied down was enough for Sheriff Lawrence. Max had no intention of joining this organization.
Clap clap.
After clapping his hands and cheering everyone on, he asked directly.
“So, what do you want?”
“Build a station in the town of Lawrence.”
The station is a hiding place for slaves.
Max shook his head.
“It is not for me to decide.”
“If you speak, will the village head listen?”
“Well, let’s talk about it. But I’ll never be working on the subway.”
Colin glanced at Max and asked.
“If you’re Asian, you have to side with black slaves?”
“That’s strange logic. But who am I? I’m the sheriff of a town created by abolitionists. How can I take sides anymore?”
Colin licked his lips, unable to think of anything to say in rebuttal. Then, suddenly, his eyes changed and he growled lowly.
“You already know too much information.”
“It’s difficult if you talk alone and come out like this. If you really want to keep my mouth shut, pull out your gun. If you’re confident.”
The atmosphere became cold as their gazes met.
At this moment, Colin’s mind flashed with the image of Max dealing with the Border Ruffians.
‘Fuck, I don’t have confidence in winning.’
Colin sighed, wondering where on earth this guy came from.
At this point, Max opened his mouth calmly.
“It’s not a station, but I might be able to help out on the subway.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The route to the destination may be different, but the goal is the same. Think about who I am and who we killed today.”
A settlement town created by abolitionists.
Colin killed the Orientals, no, the sheriff and the Border Ruffians who were pro-slavery.
This was also done for black slaves, although the methods were different.
“Anyway, that’s that. Since I owe you twice, I’ll help you twice.”
Instead, the help would be one-time, with conditions attached, such as outright rejection if it took time or was located in a remote area.
“I hate being in debt.”
“What are you, a scammer? You say you’ll pay back what I owe you, but you’re attaching some strings to it.”
An annoyed Colin downed two glasses of whiskey in quick succession. As he was putting his glass down, Max held something out to him.
“This is a token of our promise.”
“scent……”
MJ engraved on copper bullet.
Colin’s face was strangely distorted.
“Your initials are engraved on it.”
“If you need my help, bring them. One for each foot. If you lose them, we don’t know each other.”
Colin, who had been fiddling with the bullet, shook his head and put it deep inside his bosom.
Considering Max’s skill, it wasn’t a bad return for all the hard work he’d put in today.
*
“I’m fine today.”
“The carriage has left.”
Peach cuts it off with one stroke.
Max concentrated on sawing with a sullen face.
Colin left town before dawn, and by midday many men were mobilized to rebuild the sheriff’s office, which had been reduced to ashes.
Peach assisted Max with the construction.
“Most of the bodies had stab wounds to the neck and chest with Bowie knives.”
“Because I stabbed you with that.”
“You chose knife fighting instead of guns to deal with multiple opponents. What’s unusual is that one of your wounds is particularly deep. Did you stab him with a field officer’s sword?”
“I guess so.”
Knock knock, knock knock.
“So, you’re saying you killed 9 people by yourself? Can I learn it too?”
“I guess there are a lot of people you want to kill?”
“Just in case.”
Max stopped sawing for a moment and turned his gaze to Peach.
Hair neatly slicked back.
Pure white skin, a slender face, and a sharp nose were the typical Western beauty images.
“What do you want to be? A sheriff? Or a coroner?”
“They say there are three kinds of women in the West.”
“What is it?”
“A married woman, a widow, or a prostitute. Which of these will I be?”
“That’s a difficult question.”
Knock knock, knock knock.
Max started sawing again, and Peach asked him in detail about the situation during the fight yesterday.
While construction is in progress.
Newspaper coverage of the Lawrence case spread throughout Kansas and neighboring states, concluding that it was the work of outlaws, not Border Ruffians.
*
A few days after the sheriff’s office was completed.
Chairman Charles came to find Max.
For the first time, there were only two people in the small conference room putting their heads together.
“How about the new sheriff’s office?”
“I like it very much.”
Charles nodded, then opened his mouth with a serious expression.
“The town of Lawrence will soon be tied up in a county. I heard it was called Douglas County.”
“A new sheriff will be elected.”
Charles nodded at Max’s words.
“Lecompton and Lawrence will be grouped together in Douglas County, which will put us at a disadvantage in Lecompton.”
At present, Lecompton, where the influence of the governor and slave owners rests, is considered the capital of the territory.
Charles and Holiday were pushing Lawrence and Topeka, but their influence was still minimal.
“The new sheriff might fire Janelle.”
“I’m just a temporary sheriff anyway.”
“Of course it is. But isn’t the sheriff they put up obvious?”
Max looked at Charles and said.
“That’s for the Chairman to do. Lawrence can just swallow up Lecompton.”
“That’s easy to say. In fact, that’s why I called you. I wanted to seek your wisdom. At first, I questioned you because you’re an Asian, but now I’ve forgotten even that. The villagers are the same.”
The sheriff of Lawrence who is not Asian.
This image is so strongly ingrained in the townspeople that they call Max by his name or simply “Sheriff.”
And Max’s hobbies are newspapers and reading.
Charles recognized that the land disputes and the foresight that led to the creation of the Topeka militia were no accident.
“Do you know what party I was a member of when I was a member of the California legislature?”
“I think it was the Whig Party.”
It wasn’t a memory from a past life, it was Max’s intuition.
It didn’t suit places like the Democratic Party or the strangely named Know Nothing Party.
“That’s right. It was the Whig Party. But things are different now.”
“It split into several parties.”
“So you have a lot of worries.”
The passage of the Kansas-Nebraska Act marked the beginning of the Whig Party’s decline. Abolitionists, disillusioned with the leadership, left the party and soon formed the Republican Party.
As always, starting out is risky.
The Whig Party, the Free Soil Party, the American Party, etc. still existed. At that crossroads, Charles was conflicted about his choice.
‘You’re going to the Republican Party anyway.’
A place where abolitionists gathered. And the Republican Party, which would soon be reborn as a national party, would follow the trend of the times and solidify its position as the two major parties along with the Democratic Party.
“Wouldn’t it be better to go to the Republican Party?”
“Why?”
“Because public opinion is turning toward the abolition of slavery. I think any political party that raises that as its banner will gain enough support.”
Moreover, the North had long since outnumbered the South. Add to this the fact that if black slaves were given the right to vote, the South and the Democratic Party would inevitably be pushed out of power.
The expansion of liberalism led to the abolition of slavery.
This means that the wealthy farmers in the south are losing their property and power.
It was this sense of crisis that made plantation owners with black slaves desperate to turn Kansas into a slave state.
Charles nodded to Max’s words.
Then he changed the subject and said.
“I feel dizzy when I think about the last incident. Do you think the militia level is okay now?”
“Now that we’re on the subject, I have a suggestion to make.”
When a gunfight breaks out in a village, women and children are left defenseless and exposed to danger.
Especially considering that he had been hiding in the barn a while ago, the most urgent need was shelter.
“I would like to build it a little bit away from the village.”
“Good idea. I will discuss this with the members soon.”
Towards the end of the conversation, Charles mentioned Max’s paperwork problem.
“There was a discussion with Holiday about your immigration issues. I heard about it yesterday.”
“Is that so?”
“On January 2, 1853, I entered your name on the San Francisco, California immigration list. Well, it was illegal, but it wasn’t like I was creating a ghost.”
It seems that the influence of Charles Robinson, who served as a California congressman, was at work. Judging from this, he was not a completely closed-minded person.
Moreover, the country of origin is said to be Joseon, not China.
“He said he was confused and asked where it was.”
Max smiled faintly at Chairman Charles’ words.
It doesn’t end with the documents being created.
Since American naturalization laws are for white people only, it is impossible for Max to become a citizen.
What is possible is the right to live on this land.
A permanent residency was the only option.
And to get this, Max had to spend another two years with Holiday as his employer.
*
It’s been a week since the Lawrence raid.
George Brown, an editor and reporter, came to see Max.
“Did you go to Topeka for the holidays?”
“It’s hard to even see your face these days because of that.”
My mouth was glued to my ear, hoping to hear some good news.
Then he spread out the newspaper and showed it to me.
“Look! It turned out just like you said!”
“It’s so crumpled I can’t see it.”
George Brown threw the newspaper on the desk and tapped Max on the shoulder.
“The governor has decided. Let’s have a re-election!”
Max looked exaggeratedly astonished at what was happening in the world, and George Brown went to see Chairman Charles excitedly.
Max opened the newspaper he had brought.
The expected voting date is May 22nd.
Partial, but not all, re-elections will take place.
It was finally up to the governor to decide between free and slave states.
Max opened the newspaper and finished reading the article,
My eyes were fixed on a job advertisement.
Pinkerton National Detective Agency.
Pinkerton National Detective Agency
The founder of the Private Military Company (PMC) in his previous life.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Pinkerton’s advertisement for a while.
Pinkerton
Chicago’s first detective.
The Pinkerton National Detective Agency, founded by Allan Pinkerton, later transformed into a private military company (PMC).
It is currently the fifth anniversary of Pinkerton’s founding.
If you have to advertise for a job in a small town newspaper, there’s a shortage of detectives, which means there’s an overabundance of clients.
The number of detectives began to increase in earnest after the Civil War. This was when Pinkerton, which absorbed retired soldiers, began to evolve into a PMC.
One Pinkerton advertisement sent many thoughts racing through Max’s mind.
Not only the past life, but also the direction in which one should move forward.
When I thought about what I do best, the answer was simple.
‘I should go to Pinkerton’s office.’
The location is Chicago, Illinois.
