Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 43 What if I could grant your wish?

Mrs. Marlene has just finished taking a shower.

She was wearing a loose white cotton nightgown and was barefoot.

She walked out of the house while drying her hair with a worn-out towel.

Under the light, her golden hair was damp and clung to the back of her neck and shoulders.

Her hair was damp at the ends, with natural curls.

Water droplets dripped down her hair and slid down her slender neck.

It disappeared into the slightly wide neckline of the nightgown, leaving behind a glistening damp stain.

She paused for a moment when she saw Lawson sitting alone in the dark, drinking.

He then stepped forward and said, "My God, Lawson, it's so late, why are you drinking here alone?"

Lawson snapped out of his reverie and turned to look at Marlene; the dim light could not conceal her captivating charm.

He chuckled, shook the bottle in his hand, and made an excuse: "I'm a little hungry and can't sleep. Eating just jerky is too boring, so I might as well have some wine to go with it."

"Hungry?"

Marlene laughed exaggeratedly, her laughter trembling gently like a flower branch in the wind.

"You ate a full two pounds of beef, three grilled corns, and a huge plate of mashed potatoes just tonight! How long has it been and you're hungry again? Is there a bear living inside your stomach?"

"maybe."

Lawson shrugged. His superhuman physique gave him the same terrifying digestive ability and energy requirements.

He raised the bottle and invited Marlene, "Want some? This wine is good; it'll help you sleep well."

Mrs. Marlene hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded happily and sat down in the chair opposite him.

Lawson got up, went inside, grabbed a glass, and poured her a small half-glass of whiskey.

The two chatted casually in the quiet night.

The atmosphere became more relaxed under the influence of alcohol.

“I’ve never understood, Lawson.”

Mrs. Marlene took a sip of her drink; the spicy liquid made her furrow her brow slightly, and a blush rose to her cheeks.

“I saw it long ago; you’re a man of great ability. Your friends… they obey you like… like knights obey their king.”

Why don't you go to better towns, or even more bustling places like Sacramento or San Francisco? What's the point of staying in this rural area?

This was a question she had kept in her heart for a long time.

This mysterious Eastern man, like a shooting star that suddenly fell, completely changed her and her daughter's lives.

But he himself remains an enigma.

Lawson gazed at the amber liquid in his glass and gently swirled it.

He looked at Marlene and smiled, "Perhaps it's because the scenery here is better?"

Mrs. Marlene chuckled and shook her head, then took another big gulp of wine: "Come on, what's so interesting about the scenery here?"

Apart from fields and barren mountains, it's all the same, monotonous and dull.

The road was in such bad condition that it took half a day of bumpy travel to get to town.

Big cities are better; they have theaters, shops, balls, and gentlemen in respectable clothes…

That's the kind of life a human being should live.

After she finished speaking, she realized that Lawson was looking at her with a half-smile.

That look made her feel inexplicably flustered.

“I’m not talking about those landscapes,” Lawson said in a low voice.

Mrs. Marlene was stunned.

She looked into Lawson's eyes, which seemed to see through everything, and it took her several seconds before she seemed to understand something.

She chuckled, and emboldened by the alcohol, boldly met his gaze: "You rascal, you're not talking about me, are you?"

Lawson didn't answer, but instead poured her some more wine and asked, "Do you long for life in a big city?"

Mrs. Marlene's eyes lit up immediately when the topic was brought up.

She seemed to have opened a floodgate, and began to describe her dream life at length.

"Of course! Who wouldn't? I want to live in San Francisco, in a beautiful two-story house with bay windows."

Every afternoon, I can put on the most fashionable silk dress, wear lace-trimmed gloves, and have afternoon tea with those wealthy ladies, discussing the latest novels and perfumes imported from France.

"I no longer have to get up before dawn to feed the chickens, and I no longer have to make my hands rough and calloused in the muddy vegetable garden..." She described it so vividly that she didn't notice that Lawson's smile became increasingly playful.

“If,” Lawson waited for her to finish speaking before slowly continuing, “I could give you that kind of life?”

Mrs. Marlene's reverie came to an abrupt end, and she stared blankly at Lawson.

"A beautiful house on Nob Hill in San Francisco, with a coachman, a cook, and a maid to clean your room. The only thing you need to worry about every day is which dress to wear to the ball."

"Is that possible?" Mrs. Marlene's voice trembled slightly.

These words were nothing short of a devil's temptation to a young widow struggling to survive in the countryside.

Lawson didn't say anything, but simply took out two Morgan Eagle dollars from his pocket.

One by one, they were placed on the wooden table between the two of them.

"Ding."

"Ding."

Two crisp metallic clanging sounds struck Mrs. Marlene's heart in the quiet night.

“If you want to,” Lawson said, his gaze intense, “you can.”

Mrs. Marlene stared intently at the two silver coins that gleamed under the light.

I understand what he means.

Her cheeks instantly turned red all the way to her ears.

Breathing also became rapid.

She stood up, her back to Lawson.

She used a scarf that she pulled out from who-knows-where to put her half-dry blonde hair up in a bun.

"oops!"

She suddenly let out a soft gasp, as if by accident, her elbow bumping into a small silver spoon on the table.

The spoon clattered to the ground and rolled to Lawson's feet.

Mrs. Marlene looked apologetic.

She didn't dare look Lawson in the eye, but lowered her head and said softly, "I'm sorry, I'll go pick it up."

She slowly crouched down in front of Lawson, searching for the lost spoon.

The night becomes darker and darker.

The lamplight under the porch swayed gently in the evening breeze, casting shadows that were sometimes long and sometimes short.

It might be really hard to find a spoon.

Mrs. Marlene searched for a very, very long time.

So long that the chirping of insects outside the porch had changed several times.

So long that a third of the whiskey in the bottle had been gone.

Finally, after half an hour, it was found.

Mrs. Marlene, holding onto the table leg, stood up somewhat unsteadily.

She didn't say anything, only let out a soft, alcohol-smelling burp.

She blushed and hurried back into the house as if fleeing.

Lawson's gaze fell on the two Morgan Eagle dollars that were still lying quietly on the table.

He picked up one of them and put it in his pocket.

Then, he picked up another one, pinched it between his thumb and middle finger, and flicked his wrist slightly.

The brand-new eagle dollar began to spin rapidly under the dim light.

The edges of the silver coin were marked with bright white streaks.

The profile of the Statue of Liberty and the outstretched wings of the eagle intertwine and blur in the light and shadow, eventually merging into a dazzling ball of light that leaps and shimmers.

This ball of light is just like Lucy's youthful dance moves this afternoon, as she chased butterflies on the sun-drenched grass in her floral dress.

Youth is dazzling, yet carries a hint of untamed wildness.

Lawson slept very well tonight.

P.S.: Requesting monthly votes.

(End of this chapter)