Knock, knock.
“I’m Alfredo!”
“Come in.”
Suddenly.
Max, who had taken his eyes off the newspaper, looked at Alfredo, whose body was getting weaker day by day.
But the face was more serious than the body.
Both of her eyes were swollen and her lips were cracked.
“You didn’t hit anyone, did you?”
“Why not? I almost never saw you again. I almost got dragged away.”
“Who is taking you?”
Alfredo occasionally stops by the shop to buy supplies he needs from the blacksmith shop. Knowing his relationship with Max, at least in Lawrence, no one would touch Alfredo.
The problem is that a month after John Geary posted the bounty, outsiders began to flock to Lawrence.
Alfredo was not the only black man in Lawrence. Free blacks had also flocked to Lawrence to bolster the power of liberalism. There were fewer than ten of them, but it was possible to speculate that the black man in question might be among them.
“Martin, Brett, and I were wandering around the shops, when all of a sudden a group of people came running out of the bar and tried to grab me!”
Alfredo continued speaking, his body trembling as if his fear had not yet subsided.
“And then he holds out a piece of paper and compares my face to it. So, I was like, oh, he’s chasing the hot new crazy black guy. And then all of a sudden, he’s like, ‘I found you, you runaway slave!’”
‘Runaway slave?’
“Okay, so tell me without getting excited.”
Alfredo continued speaking, his chest clearing.
“My heart is still pounding. Anyway, I was struggling to avoid being dragged away, and I got hit a few times. But then Lore and his squad showed up, and I was barely able to escape.”
Max tilted his head and asked what the next situation was.
“They knew I was running out of numbers, so they didn’t chase me. Instead, they went back into the bar. And Lore and his squad.”
Then, Lore told Alfredo to quickly return and inform the captain.
“But there was something strange. When Lore got involved, they were like, where the hell is the damn sheriff?”
Joel Grover, who succeeded Max.
He is on vacation for the New Year.
“Then, all of a sudden, they were like, ‘What the heck, they’re not back from Springfield yet?’”
“hmm?”
At that moment, one thing flashed through Max’s mind.
“Alfredo. You said that a slave trader bought and sold you? Do you remember his name?”
“Yes, how could I forget that? A white man named Cullen Baker, who took me from Georgia to Missouri and sold me to George Clark. I stayed in Illinois for a while, but there was no real house of horrors there.”
“……”
What seemed complicated was sorted out in an instant.
Although it was hidden by the bounty, the secret was elsewhere.
The one who sent them was John Crenshaw.
The real target was Max, who was Sheriff Lawrence.
Discovering Alfredo was nothing more than a coincidence.
And with George Clark dead and the slaves gone, it was only natural to want to get them back.
By the way, how did John Crenshaw know Max’s identity, even though he kept his face covered throughout the Stringfield journey?
The ones to suspect are the Pinkerton agents guarding the train.
One of them was with Allan Pinkerton, so he would know that Max was Sheriff Lawrence.
It is likely that the information was given voluntarily or under torture.
‘I should have taken care of it before I came.’
The thing that was put off until later because of worrying about Ulysses S. Grant and the Lawrence Trio has now exploded.
Max got up from his seat, checked his weapons, and put on his coat.
Before leaving the office, I handed Alfredo an egg in a bowl.
“I’m rubbing this on the bruise.”
“Are you eating?”
“Oh. By the way, you shouldn’t eat scrubbed eggs.”
Alfredo’s face turned sullen.
“I’ll be back soon, so stay here and don’t move.”
“Old story!”
*
Founded in the early days of Lawrence, the Hutchinson Bar has grown in size and now also operates a small inn.
At the entrance, an old bouncer named Steady, who came to Jayhawkers and has since settled down, keeps the bar safe.
But today, Steady is loitering around the entrance of the bar with a serious expression on his face, as if he is feeling uneasy.
Then, she noticed a man approaching her and her face lit up.
“Oh Max, you finally showed up.”
“How is it inside?”
“The gang has grown. There are about 10 of them now, and the atmosphere is very tense.”
Max, with his thick coat and scarf wrapped tightly around his face, nodded slightly and entered the bar.
Squeak.
As he pushed open the swing door and entered, all eyes in the room turned to Max.
In silence.
Max’s eyes scanned the room.
Inside, about a dozen Roar and Jayhawks stood up from their seats and bowed their heads to Max.
By the window, a group of men, either gangsters or slave hunters, are glaring at Max, puffing out cigarette smoke.
“Oh, Max!”
Hutcheson came running up to me. He was once a militiaman, and he thought of Max differently.
But before that, he was also a bar owner.
“I’m sorry, but inside a bar it’s a bit···.”
“Don’t worry.”
“I will only trust you.”
Max patted Hutchinson on the shoulder and quickly took off his coat and scarf. One of the agents quickly approached and took them, and Max strode toward the group of bounty hunters.
“Whoa, shit. You’re a real Asian coolie.”
“Lawrence, isn’t this a hot town? You’re putting a guy like that in charge of the sheriff’s office because there’s no one else to do it for you. Oh my.”
Lore couldn’t stand it anymore and shouted.
“Shut up! Where the hell do you think you are, crawling in here and talking nonsense? You idiots, you picked the wrong people today.”
“Like girls, just say ‘ebebebe’. Hehehehe.”
The Jayhawks were outraged by their taunts, but they did not take action.
This was due to Max’s usual instructions.
Don’t use violence unless you’re a Border Rufian.
Throughout history, Jayhawks and Border Ruffians commit atrocities such as massacres of civilians. Some of them enjoy killing people indiscriminately rather than for their beliefs.
That’s why Max often said, with good intentions, ‘Let’s not use unnecessary violence unless it is for the purpose of the mission.’
‘That doesn’t mean you should just endure it in this situation, kids.’
Max shook his head and walked away.
It seems clear that the opponent is not a Border Ruffian.
No one would say something like that to Max in the middle of Lawrence unless they were crazy.
Max stopped walking and looked over the men.
“Who has the brain?”
One guy got up from his seat leisurely.
He was in his mid-30s. He was a rough-looking man with a slanted wound on his face.
“It’s Tiger Sam Smith.”
“So, what’s your purpose here?”
In a suffocating silence.
Tiger pushed back his leather jacket and revealed the pistol at his waist. He took a step closer and stared into Max’s eyes.
“I came to catch you….”
Their eyes met as if time had stopped.
Max and Tiger quickly reached for their holsters.
Author’s Note
A pedal-operated trash can
It was invented in the 1930s.
Old Black Joe composer Stephen Foster
It seems like he currently resides in New York.
If we happen to meet by chance, I’ll let you know.
< Cooperation >
The flintlock and musket pistols used in the 18th century had long reload times and were single-shot, so guns were carried on a leather belt around the waist or shoulder.
At that time, guns were not common and holsters were also rarely used equipment.
It only took its current form a few years ago.
With the advent of the Colt revolver and various types of pistols, and the opening of the Western frontier, a full-fledged civilian market began to open, and the form of the holster began to take shape.
However, the early forms that focused only on storage were often locked with a click.
The importance of a full-fledged fast draw really came to the forefront after the Civil War, when gangs were rampant.
Max, who first got the holster, has since forced several upgrades.
The goal is just a fast draw.
Max and Tiger Sam Smith, who have holsters optimized for this, were bound to have a difference in speed.
Crunch.
A revolver shot out at lightning speed. The muzzle, cocked and hammer cocked, flickered at the opponent’s forehead.
Tiger hasn’t even drawn his gun yet.
My eyes widened at the crazy speed at which things happened in the blink of an eye.
The subordinates also froze, holding their breath.
‘Look at the captain’s skills. He’s really crazy, he’s crazy.’
This was also the first time the Jayhawks had witnessed Max’s skills in this way.
They stared at Max’s unwavering gun barrel, swallowing their bursts of exclamation.
Extreme fear and dread gripped Tiger’s breathing. Max, expressionless, stared at him without making any movement.
Cold sweat ran down Tiger’s forehead and chin.
‘If you pull out a gun here, you die.’
You hold the revolver’s handle, but the moment you try to pull it out, a bullet will fly.
‘Let’s hand over the information about John Crenshaw, who ordered this. I’ll buy some time with that condition, and then I’ll hit him in the back of the head at an appropriate time.
Taang!
‘This damn thing···.’
Tiger’s eyes widened as if they were going to pop out. Pain spread and blood gushed out as he placed his hand on his chest.
As his body swayed, Max pulled the trigger one after another toward the incoming men.
Bang! Bang!
After blowing away two of them with a fan, he sticks close to Tiger and uses his body as a shield.
To keep bounty hunters and slave hunters out of Lawrence.
Max had no intention of leaving a single one alive.
Tiger’s men belatedly drew their guns, but the Jayhawks’ guns were pointed at them.
Thanks to my training with Max, I had skills that would not be lacking no matter where I went.
Clank, clank, clank.
They all fired bullets, followed by a cocking sound.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Owner Hutchinson, who hid behind the bar, peeked out his eyes and watched the inside of the store.
The enemies collapsed, becoming one with the chair and table. Bullets struck the back of Tiger, which Max used as a shield, and blood splattered. And at some point.
The gunfire died down and Max let go of the now useless Tiger corpse.
thud!
As if signaling the end of the situation, Tiger’s body fell to the ground.
Max looked over the Jayhawks and asked.
“Anyone hurt?”
“doesn’t exist!”
“Everyone worked hard. Let’s clean up here and have a drink.”
“Old story!”
Hutchinson looks at the cheering Jayhawks. His eyes are trembling.
My shoulders slumped at the sight of the chaos.
Broken table and chair.
Blood soaking the floor and a foul smell.
Then suddenly I turned my gaze to the window.
Surprisingly, the glass windows were intact.
Even though there were dozens of shots fired, there was evidence that he had aimed precisely at the enemy who had his back to the window.
Max, even so, Hutchinson looked at the young Jayhawk with admiration.
‘It’s gone beyond the level of a militia.’
Is this the effect of training? I’m a little jealous.
In the early days of Lawrence, Hutcheson was a member of the militia, assisting Sheriff Max. However, he had a family to protect and did not have the courage to endure Max’s relentless training.
‘Everyone has their own path, you know.’
I was just trying to protect the village, so is a broken chair really that big of a deal?
Hutchinson was planning to treat these fine young men to a proper dinner tonight.
Because that was what he was good at.
A smile naturally spread across Hutchinson’s lips.
To Max, it looked like he was laughing like a crazy person. That’s what a bar girl does.
“Why are you so scared?”
Max handed Hutchinson a fist-sized stick.
“This is the money I got from those guys. It’ll cover the broken items and the drinks today.”
“Whoa, what money is that? Just put it in.”
“The store looks like this, is that okay?”
“Isn’t that Max’s fault? And isn’t that a hundred times better than being in a bar where you get shot by a black guy for no reason?”
“……There must have been a reason.”
Max handed it over to Hutchinson, who was stubbornly refusing, telling him to take half.
To downplay the incident, Max sent two Jayhawks to the governor and gave newspaper reporters some pointers on where to write their stories.
“Please write so that Lawrence doesn’t get tangled up in mayflies. By the way, these guys were slave hunters. They were planning to kidnap free black people.”
“Wow, have you ever seen such crazy guys?”
Editors George Brown and Miller picked up the story as Marx intended.
*
Three days later.
– Are you really going alone?
– Let me go with you. I think I’ll feel better if I see that bastard John Crenshaw die.
– Is there a need to rush in? This place is well guarded.
Max set out alone, leaving Peach and Colin behind.
The heart of St. Louis County, Missouri.
Max, with his face covered by a scarf and his hat pulled down low, stopped in front of a two-story building.
After glancing up and down the building for a moment, I grabbed the green doorknob on the first floor.
“Welcome. Welcome to the Pinkerton office in St. Louis!”
