America 1883: The Western Homeland

Chapter 14 Leaving the camp and heading north ahead of schedule

In the dead of night, the campsite was deathly silent, with only a few sparks occasionally popping from the campfire.

Tom, who was on night watch, sat alone by the fire, his brow furrowed.

He couldn't understand why Shay was blaming him for killing the gunmen.

Is Shay blind? Can't he see that those people are here to kill and rob?

Or did he naively believe that no one outside of Fort Worth would dare to brandish a knife?

Do they only believe it when someone dies, when blood is shed, and when they themselves are stabbed with a knife?

Tom scoffed inwardly, but his gaze suddenly sharpened as he looked at the shadows not far away.

James sat down silently beside him, holding two tin cups, and handed him one.

"What are you thinking about?" James's voice was deep.

Tom shook his head. "Nonsense."

"I went to see the body," James said, taking a sip of his drink, the firelight illuminating his angular face. "His marksmanship was excellent."

Upon receiving his father's affirmation, Tom's lips curved into a barely perceptible smile. "I didn't let you down."

James's Adam's apple bobbed, as if he wanted to say something but then stopped himself.

Tom spoke up first: "Am I... born to hold a gun?"

James nodded emphatically, the liquid in his glass swirling.

"Do you want to leave?" James asked directly.

Tom understood. "Shay's right. To those pursuers, we're already a inseparable group. Break up? We can just pack up and leave, but what about those immigrants with their families? Without you holding them back, they won't survive three days." He took a swig of his liquor, the spiciness burning his throat. "I'm not leaving now. If we're going to separate, we'll have to wait until we've shaken off those hyenas."

Understanding his son's thoughts, James silently tapped Tom's glass against his own, saying, "Thanks."

"Huh?" Tom was taken aback.

"They...are my family," James's voice was somewhat deep, with a barely perceptible hoarseness, "You protected them."

Tom took another sip of the inferior whiskey; the taste was rough, far inferior to what he had drunk before, and the price was worlds apart. He put down the glass and stood up.

"They are my family too." With that, Tom turned and walked towards his tent, his figure disappearing into the night.

Soon, even snoring filled the tent.

Unbeknownst to him, while he slept, Margaret quietly sat down by the fire.

"How...is he?" Margaret's voice was filled with worry, her gaze fixed on James.

"Very good," James said, looking at the leaping flames. "Better than his father was back then. The first time he shot someone, he could eat and sleep well, his mind was clear, and he didn't feel any discomfort."

“Sometimes… I feel like I don’t even recognize him anymore.” Margaret snatched the glass from James’s hand, tilted her head back, and gulped it down. The pungent liquor made her frown slightly. “You didn’t see what he looked like back then… He wasn’t that little Tom who just followed me around anymore, James. He was a… gunman!”

"Are you afraid of him?" James looked up.

"Afraid?" Margaret's voice suddenly rose as if she had been burned. "He is my son! How could I be afraid of my son!" Her chest heaved slightly as she became emotional.

James reached out and gently pulled her into his arms, his deep voice carrying a soothing power: "Perhaps... we never truly understood him."

The camp fell silent once more, with only the crackling of the campfire.

Inside the tent, Tom turned over, his tightly furrowed brows seeming to relax a little.

As dawn broke, the campsite became much noisier than usual.

"Hurry up! Pack your bags, let's go!" Captain Shay's booming voice echoed through the camp as he rode his tall horse. Tom, his sweet dream abruptly awakened, yawned and sleepily crawled out of his tent.

James was busy harnessing his carriage, while another carriage was already ready and waiting, with Margaret sitting steadily on the shaft, holding the reins.

This is the result decided yesterday, and the whole team set off this morning!

"I was just about to call you!" James saw him come out, turned around and walked towards the tent, clearly preparing to pack up the camp.

Tom could only quickly change his clothes.

The tent was quickly rolled up and thrown onto the wagon, and a completely refreshed Tom appeared before James:

He wore a wide-brimmed, high-crowned felt hat, a Colt revolver slung over his waist, a bullet belt wrapped around his body, jeans and a leather jacket, a tight-fitting, multi-pocketed denim jacket with gathered sleeves, high-top leather boots with spiked hoops, and a brightly colored printed scarf around his neck.

If you were to mount a fast horse, you'd be the spitting image of a cowboy!

"You look great!" Margaret's praise made Tom's lips curl into a slight smile.

"Aaaaa!!!"

The blue mudskipper, which was not far away, seemed to be provoked and suddenly rushed in front of Tom, rubbing its big head against his arm.

Tom really couldn't figure out what it was up to this time.

"Saddle it!" James's suggestion made Tom's eyes light up.

He immediately took out a saddle and put it on the loach's back.

"Aaaaa!!!"

Alright, Tom finally understood what it was thinking.

But if Tom rides a mule, who will drive his four-horse carriage?

"I'll do it!" Claire grabbed Mary and jumped into Tom's carriage without saying a word.

"Are you sure you can do it?" James asked kindly.

Claire didn't give him a chance to ask any more questions. With a flick of the reins, the carriage started moving, closely following the caravan.

"Let's go too," Margaret said with a smile to James.

Tom mounted the mule, and the mudskipper leaped off, running wildly across the vast grassland!

Only now did Tom truly understand that what the loach longed for was this kind of unrestrained freedom to roam!

The loach squealed merrily as it darted past the herd of cattle.

The cattle instantly went into chaos! Panic ensued, and they scattered in all directions!

"Tom!!!" Elsa, who was trying to herd the cattle, roared at Tom's departing figure, but couldn't help but smile.

"Is that a mule?" Wade turned to Ennis and asked.

Ennis's gaze, however, was fixed on Elsa, and he couldn't look away.

"It's a mule!" Ennis replied absentmindedly.

Wade grew impatient and grabbed Ennis's reins: "Do you remember that mule at the cattle market?"

Ennis looked at him in surprise: "What? What mule?"

"That mule!" Wade said in a low, serious voice.

Ennis instantly snapped out of it: "How is that possible? That stubborn thing can be ridden?" He felt Wade was joking.

Everyone knows how bad-tempered that mule is! It won't even let you touch it, let alone ride it!

Wade was startled by his own thought, but he vaguely remembered that the mule seemed to have been bought by a boy of about fifteen or sixteen!

At this moment, Tom is being watched by far more than just the two of them.

Captain Shay and his second-in-command Thomas were also watching the figure speeding across the grassland.

"What do you think?" Thomas stared thoughtfully at Tom's retreating figure.

Captain Shay did not answer immediately, but instead spurred his horse back to the moving convoy, and the loud command rang out again:

"Maintain a distance of twenty feet between the two vehicles!"

"Stop at the water's edge! Wait for the vehicle in front to pass! Watch the children closely, don't let them near the edge of the vehicle, they'll fall in! Hold onto the children tightly, and keep a close eye on the livestock!"

After giving the order, Shay rode up to the two cowboys, Wade and Ennis, who were helping to herd the bison.

"Have you decided?"

"Of course," Wade shrugged, "you have to maintain a bit of cowboy chivalry, don't you?"

Ennis's gaze, however, bypassed the crowd and remained fixed on Elsa's figure in the distance.