"Boss, why are we on the train?" Sean, who had changed into new clothes, asked Chen Jianqiu who was looking out the window.

"Because it's fast." Chen Jianqiu's answer was as concise as ever.

Except for a heavy cowhide bag beside him, their horses, luggage, and even the silly bird were on the train with them, in the freight car behind.

The cowhide bag was bulging and filled with green bills. It was part of the Jewish Sigmund half of his life savings, and Chen Jianqiu found it in Thomas's lair.

There were not only the dollar bills they had stolen, but also other things, such as guns, horses, bullets, and the white clothes of the Ku Klux Klan.

Chen Jianqiu pulled a cart of things and returned with a full load.

He asked Browning to transport all the horses and some of the guns, along with the previous batch, to Zhang Danian; Then the rest was unloaded in the warehouse of the gun shop.

He then carried a large cloth bag from the car and Browning into the back room.

By the time he came out, he had officially become the majority shareholder of the Browning Gun Shop (Montrose Branch) and the Browning Gun Factory.

Chen Jianqiu glanced at the equity confirmation with a stamp on his hand, and a smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.

He slipped the paper into the leather bag beside him.

The train was bound for New Mexico, all the way south. The railroad was built along the north-south Rocky Mountains, and God knows how many Chinese laborers were drained of their lives and blood.

The scenery outside the train has also changed from the verdant and snow-capped mountains of the Cumbrera Pass to a hundred miles of wilderness full of cacti and bare loess everywhere.

The front of the old-fashioned steam train spewed thick white smoke all the way backwards, accompanied by the occasional shrill whistle that drifted to Chen Jianqiu's window.

The railway itself is not paved flat, and the real sleepers are used underneath, which makes the train a little bumpy and noisy, and the noise and whistle it makes when it passes through each section of the track echo each other, making Chen Jianqiu's head hurt.

He closed the window and looked back into the car.

It was a regular carriage where passengers boarded from various cities in Colorado, and some were transferred from further afield, such as Cheyenne in Wyoming.

Chen Jianqiu and his team kept a low profile, and they scattered and sat away.

Mr. and Mrs. Danny sat at the front of the carriage, and Teresa, probably tired and tired, fell asleep on her husband's broad shoulder;

Asuka and Holmes sat two rows in front of them, Asuka's injuries had greatly improved under Teresa's care, and there was no problem with his movements, and Holmes said that he should not sit with Sean.

So the black man sat next to Chen Jianqiu.

As for Adam, he sat at the back of the carriage, Chen Jianqiu didn't even need to look at it, he must have put his hat on his face at this moment, half-lying on the chair and falling asleep.

The rest of the people left Montrose with a bag more or less full of food or necessities, but he filled it with bottles.

Also, if nothing else, Hanif and Downey should be on this train, but in a different car.

After the Montrose incident, Hanif sent Donnie with a message that they had met Pinkerton's men about ten kilometers away from Montrose and that he was watching them.

As for the woman in red, it's time to go to South Carolina to claim the bounty.

"Hey, boss, does that guy across the street worship us?" Sean leaned into Chen Jianqiu's ear and whispered.

"Huh?" Chen Jianqiu looked at the other side.

A middle-aged man held a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other, writing something on the paper while looking up from time to time to observe them.

"You see, he's doing what he's doing, and he's secretly watching us." Sean said smugly.

"Sean, you remember, the next time you meet someone who does this, it's best to run away, they should be Pinkerton's detectives." Chen Jianqiu patted the black man on the shoulder, and then stopped paying attention to him.

He also began to observe the middle-aged man opposite.

He wore a gray suit with a flat suit vest underneath, and like most decent people of the era, he wore a bow tie at the neckline, although the bow tie was a little wrinkled and a little crooked.

His face was already wrinkled, and his hair was a little naturally curly.

However, the most impressive thing is that the thick beard under his nose covers almost his entire upper lip.

Seeing that Chen Jianqiu also looked at him, the middle-aged man was a little embarrassed for a while, he put away his notebook, walked over, and sat down on the seat across the aisle from Chen Jianqiu.

"Hey, there, my name is Samuel Lanchen Clemen, and I'm a writer, and I'm sorry for looking at you very rudely." The middle-aged man greeted Chen Jianqiu.

Chen Jianqiu didn't speak, just smiled.

The middle-aged man thought that the two people of different skin colors in front of him could not understand English, so he smiled awkwardly.

But Sean spoke: "Wow, are you really a writer?" I'm the writer I admire the most, you're famous? ”

Middle age is even more embarrassing.

"Well, actually, it's okay, you must have heard of my pen name, it's Mark Twain."

Sean continued to blink his eyes, but Chen Jianqiu already understood who the person in front of him was.

One of the greatest American writers of the 19th century, the founder of American critical realism, once worked as a navigator in Mississippi, and his pen name comes from the early water surgery language - three feet deep.

Chen Jianqiu pushed Sean's illiterate head aside, smiled and said to the writer: "I have admired the name for a long time, I have read your "Asceticism", it is very good. ”

Seeing this inconspicuous Chinese suddenly mention his work, Mark Twain seemed a little excited, he was actually very famous in his forties, but he still did not expect that a Chinese would read his work ten years ago.

"Ha, that book is my experience more than twenty years ago, when I was as young as you and wandered the West." The writer was very happy, "My cousin worked in Nevada, and I traveled all the way to find him, and it was during that trip that I met several Chinese people like you, who were hardworking, simple, but ......"

"But what?" Chen Jianqiu asked calmly.

"But it's okay and insensitive." Mark Twain shrugged his shoulders, "Forgive my bluntness, friend. ”

Chen Jianqiu was not angry, he knew that the writer in front of him might be telling the truth.

Instead of continuing on the topic, they changed the question.

"What are you doing here?"

"Huh? Me? I just wanted to go out and see if there was anything else to inspire, so I went from a walk around New Mexico and then back to California. ”

The writer did not mince words about his itinerary and purpose, and he put his hand into his arms: "Smoking a cigar?" Mr? ”

But suddenly an explosion came from the front of him, startling him, and the cigar in his hand fell to the ground.

The train came to a slow stop.

Several gunshots rang out, followed by several hoarse voices coming in from outside the car.

"Give me all the TMD and rob me!"

Thank you for not saying that you are suffocated, Mengda, and the monthly ticket of the one-foot viewer,

Thanks to Zi Xie for the tip

Thank you all for your referral tickets and subscriptions, thank you very much

Two more

(End of chapter)