Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

The reason for staying here in Chapter 13

"Success!"

Lucy's face flushed red with excitement.

Before the mule-deer could even cry out in sorrow, it collapsed to the ground with a thud.

An arrow pierced its neck, and blood instantly stained the surrounding withered grass.

This deer is very fat, weighing at least 70 or 80 pounds, enough to feed us for two days.

Three Dogs' [Hunting] skill is indeed a useful skill, and it comes in handy here.

He looked around, and the vast wilderness of California was a huge treasure trove.

Deer, wolves, California grizzly bears, pronghorn, blacktail deer, herds of wild boars, and countless rabbits and pheasants.

The Federation placed no restrictions on hunting and even hoped that people would kill more wild animals to pave the way for the expansion of civilization.

In the neighboring state, the federal government even paid people to hunt bison, not for their hides or meat, but to leave their carcasses to rot in the wilderness, purely for the purpose of killing.

American bison were nearly driven to extinction.

Lawson found himself starting to like this barbaric era.

It's great to be able to hunt freely!

With three dogs around, the source of meat is no longer a problem.

The three dogs easily carried the dead mule deer, and the three returned to the farm with their rich spoils.

Er Gou and San Gou worked together seamlessly and began processing the venison.

Skinning, gutting, and cutting up the deer, even the blood wasn't wasted, as it's said to be a highly nutritious substance.

The best tenderloin and hind leg meat were cut into chunks and cooked, while the rest were cut into strips and left to be processed tomorrow.

Lawson crossed his legs and squinted at the little wooden house in the sunset.

I've stayed here for several days, and to be honest, this house is really too dilapidated.

Lucy's father couldn't afford to build a new house, so it was in this dilapidated state when he bought it.

Over time, wooden houses are prone to problems.

To live more comfortably, perhaps it's time to consider rebuilding the house.

Building a wooden house is actually not difficult.

California is full of tall redwoods and fir trees, where timber is the least valuable commodity, and planks are ridiculously cheap.

He has a henchman working at the town's lumber mill, so getting a batch of high-quality fir wood shouldn't be a problem.

Manpower is not a problem either. As long as we refresh more zombies with the [Carpentry] skill, we will have the most reliable construction team - they are hardworking, lazy, and the quality is absolutely top-notch.

Wood is cheap, but hardware such as nails, door hinges, and bolts are much more expensive.

The real culprit is the glass. In this era, glass remains an expensive luxury. A bright and transparent large window can cost a fortune that would leave an ordinary family speechless.

But I have to spend this money so that I can live comfortably.

The matter of rebuilding the house must be discussed with the owner, Mrs. Marlene, first.

Lawson knew he was just a tenant and had no obligation to build houses for others.

He could go to a smaller town with better conditions, or a big city.

However, Lawson had his own plans.

Compared to big cities, this place makes it easier for him to hide.

Before he rose to power, he did not intend to leave this place, and one of the important reasons was that the mother and daughter were easy to control.

He had observed that Marin and her daughter had a very simple social circle.

Mrs. Marlene has a younger sister who married and moved to San Francisco; they haven't been in contact for a long time.

Apart from that, they rarely interact with the outside world.

Lawson never claimed to be a good person.

This mother and daughter...

As night falls, the farm is filled with the rich aroma of meat.

A huge cast-iron pot sat on an outdoor wood-fired stove, the crackling sound of burning pine wood filling the air.

Large chunks of venison floated in the bubbling broth, and Mrs. Marlene added potatoes and wild onions, the aroma of which could be smelled half a mile away.

Lawson's appetite once again shocked the mother and daughter.

He devoured a whole basin of venison by himself, eating it all, soup and all.

Wild venison is extremely nutritious and is like a powerful tonic for Lawson's recovery.

His physical constitution has reached its upper limit of 16, and his digestive system has an extremely strong ability to absorb and digest food. The food he eats is quickly converted into energy, which circulates throughout his body, making him feel warm all over.

After eating and drinking his fill, he picked up his axe and went to the wooden stake in the corner of the yard to start chopping firewood.

Sweat quickly soaked through my shirt, and I felt incredibly refreshed.

Marlene was washing dishes inside the house when she looked out the window at the figure sweating profusely in the yard, and a smile involuntarily crept onto her lips.

She is very satisfied with her current life; it seems that since Lawson came, their family's life has been getting better day by day.

Without fail, Lawson paid her one silver dollar every day for food and lodging, which was enough for her daily expenses, with a considerable surplus. Lawson's two quiet but capable fellow villagers took care of all the work inside and outside the farm, keeping everything in perfect order and making her life much easier.

For the next two days, Lawson's life was very regular.

Chopping wood during the day helps me exercise and feel my physical fitness steadily improving.

They would wake up precisely at 4 a.m. and refresh the ranks of the assassins.

Thirty-six assassins were killed in two days.

This time, he chose only those of Irish descent because he needed enough Irish cannon fodder to carry out his next plan.

These new recruits were sent to work with Johnny first, otherwise his five men would be too few.

[Level: Level 6]

(18 assassins are refreshed daily, with stamina 1.1-1.6 times that of a normal adult male (random))
[Requirement for advancing to the next level]: Absorb 1 cubic meter of brass
[Body Condition: 10-16] (The standard for a normal adult male is 10)

[Earthwork Reserves: 389] (1 earthwork can generate 1 assassin)
Current number of assassins: 83

Lawson sighed with relief; his physical condition had finally returned to normal, and now he needed to focus on further improvement.

In the past two days, Johnny and his five men, following Lawson's instructions, brought the thirteen newly arrived Irish people into the construction site and volunteered to take on the most dangerous jobs.

Tragedy—or rather, the plan—took place the following afternoon.

An "accidental" landslide killed thirteen Irish people who had just arrived in the Americas and were full of fantasies about the continent.

Johnny and his five men skillfully staged the incident as a mining accident, then rushed to the manager and demanded compensation from the company.

The Texan manager looked at Johnny like he was an idiot: "Compensation?"

"FUCK! You Irish potato bastards' lives are worth nothing?"

He spat, "So what if he's dead? Just dig a hole and bury him. Don't fucking delay my construction!"

"What the hell did you say?"

Johnny grabbed the foreman by the collar. "We're white! We're not those Chinese laborers who can be slaughtered at will! If you don't give us an explanation today, this construction site is not going to get back to work!"

Just then, the thirty-six Irish suicide bombers on the construction site launched their attack.

They, along with the other Irish laborers who had been incited, all surrounded them, waving shovels and pickaxes, glaring angrily and cursing in heavily accented English:

"Pay up! A life for a life!"

"Damn capitalists! Give us back the lives of our compatriots!"

"If you don't pay, we'll tear down this dilapidated construction site!"

The Texan manager's expression changed.

He could disregard the lives of a dozen or so Irishmen, but he couldn't disregard the project's timeline.

If those ruthless board members of the Southern Pacific Railroad knew that this trivial matter had delayed the progress, they would be the first to be skinned alive.

Looking at the group of emotionally charged Irishmen who could riot at any moment, he finally gave in.

"Three hundred dollars! Just like you suggested, three hundred dollars each! Get back to work as soon as possible!"

Johnny sneered and patted the steward's dusty cheek: "Wouldn't it have been settled earlier? At least you guys have some humanity left."

I received a heavy silver dollar, three thousand nine hundred dollars.

With this money added to the previous two thousand eight hundred dollars, Lawson now has nearly seven thousand US dollars in total.

enough!
Inside the farmhouse cabin, Lawson let out a long breath.

He summoned six assassins through his consciousness, armed them, and prepared to depart.

"Go to San Francisco."

We must secure one cubic meter of brass as soon as possible.

Once the upgrade is complete, the number of assassins he refreshes daily will reach the next level of the Lucas series—29 people.

Meanwhile, deep in another secluded valley, a group of burly Irish men were still digging in the dirt; this was the temporary camp of Lawson's Irish bandit gang.

Inside the cave, Isabella Parker, the once pampered rancher's wife, was now curled up on the cold rocks.

A tattered blanket was wrapped tightly around her plump body, but she was still shivering.

Although the robbers haven't touched her in the past two days, she has a bad feeling.

Just then, footsteps approached from afar, and a tall figure slipped inside.

Isabella's heart tightened; the newcomer was none other than the leader of the gang of bandits.

A hard, black loaf of bread was thrown in front of Isabella.

"Eat up, madam, don't starve yourself. You'll be worthless if you die."

Isabella shrank back, her voice trembling as she asked, "My husband, Coleman... has he sent the money?"

Scarface grinned, his expression full of mockery: "Send money? Ha! It's been three days, madam. Forget five thousand dollars, we haven't seen a single penny. Our brothers who went to town to gather information reported that your husband, Mr. Coleman Parker, is comfortably recovering from his broken leg in the hospital and has hired a few new cowboys to guard the plantation, but he hasn't mentioned ransoming you."

He crouched down, leaned close to Isabella, and whispered, “You know what this means, huh? It means that in that fat pig’s eyes, your white ass isn’t worth five thousand shiny Morgan Eagle dollars. Don’t look at me like that, ma’am. I fucking want that five thousand dollars more than fuck you. Money can buy good horses, new guns, and ten younger, hotter bitches in San Francisco brothels than you.”

Tears of despair streamed down Isabella's cheeks.

She had known all along that Coleman, that miser, that bastard who only loved money and land, would not pay her a single penny.

(End of this chapter)