Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 55 Where did the colonel's head go?

Robert issued the order: "Get the latest weapons from the depots in Denver and Kansas. Contact the Southern Pacific Railroad. We need a special train to get our people and equipment to Northern California as quickly as possible!"

"Tell our men that there were no prisoners in this operation!"

William added, "Our goal isn't to save lives, it's revenge! I want to turn Marin County into a graveyard for those Irish bastards! I want to wash away the stain on our reputation with their blood!"

"In short, the reputation of the Pinkerton Detective Agency must not be ruined by us brothers!"

Sonoma County, North Canyon.

The mountain wind was biting.

Five hundred California state militiamen, led by Buck, are winding their way through this rocky landscape.

They had been marching for two days straight and were all quite tired.

The saddle was digging into their buttocks and they were sore.

Buck was on edge, scanning the towering ridges on either side warily.

"Keep your eyes peeled! This is not the time to let your guard down, hold on tight to your rifles!"

The words have not yet fallen.

Dozens of flames suddenly burst forth on the mountain ridge!

“Bang bang bang bang bang—!”

Lead bullets, trailing sharp whistles, rained down from the sky, instantly tearing a bloody gash through the marching column!
"Ambush! FUCK! It's an ambush!"

The dozen or so cavalrymen at the forefront of the charge were knocked down, horse and all.

The immense inertia caused them to tumble and crash into the following lines, triggering an even larger riot.

"Take cover! Find cover!"

Buck roared and yanked the reins hard, causing his warhorse to rear up and dodge a volley of bullets.

But his messenger wasn't so lucky.

A bullet pierced the young man's neck with pinpoint accuracy, and the exploding blood sprayed all over Buck's face.

"Fire! Return fire! Fire on the mountaintop!"

The militiamen finally snapped out of their initial panic. They dismounted, searched for rocks for cover, and haphazardly pulled the triggers at the barely visible ghostly figures on the ridge.

However, the enemy's firepower was precise and fierce.

From their elevated position, they transformed this narrow valley into a perfect slaughterhouse.

The raid lasted less than five minutes.

Just as the militiamen had regained their footing and were preparing to counterattack, the gunfire on the ridge suddenly stopped.

Everything returned to deathly silence.

The gang of thugs arrived suddenly and disappeared just as suddenly.

"Oh shit!"

A burly lieutenant, his jaw trembling with rage, yelled, "It's those Irish bastards again! They're like rats in a sewer!"

"Should we pursue them, Lieutenant?"

He looked at Buck.

Buck's bloodshot eyes were fixed on the silent mountain ridge.

Of course he wants to pursue her!
He wished he could immediately lead his men to rush up and tear those bastards to pieces!
But he can't.

The terrain in this mountainous area is complex, and who knows if there are any more traps ahead.

His current mission is to reach Marin County as soon as possible and meet up with Major Cross.

"Stop the pursuit!"

Buck gritted his teeth and forced out the order: "Take a headcount for the casualties, treat the wounded! We're continuing on our way!"

He was seething with anger, with nowhere to vent it.

More than thirty cold corpses and nearly fifty wounded were the gifts that this group of damned bandits presented to him.

He remembered this blood debt.

……

When Buck finally arrived in Marin County, it was already dusk.

"Where is Major Cross?"

Thompson pointed to a door in the inner room of the sheriff's office: "In...in there!"

Buck shoved him aside and rushed over to kick open the door.

"Alan! I got bitten by a bunch of Irish punks on the way, damn it, I lost..." Before he could finish speaking, the rest of the words got stuck in his throat.

Three corpses lay side by side on the cold floor, long since dead.

A one-eyed dragon, a skinny monkey, and a headless corpse.

Even though he didn't have a head, he could still recognize him just by looking at his clothes—it was Allen Cross!
Buck has gone mad.

These are his brothers, the ones he could entrust his back to on the battlefield!

It was the officer who dragged him out of a pile of dead bodies!

"Who...who did this?!"

He grabbed Thompson by the neck and slammed him against the wall.

"Who should we accuse them of killing? Where's the major's head?"

"Uh, cough cough..."

Thompson felt like his neck bones were about to be crushed: "It's the Irish!"

"They said if you want to get the major's head back, uh... go and try your luck in the Irish quarter..."

"Irish!"

Buck dragged Thompson out of the room.

"Everyone! Mount up!!"

With that, he threw Thompson onto a horse.

"Lead the way! Tell me where those bastards gather!"

……

The first to suffer was a makeshift shantytown built of planks and tarpaulins.

Here live dozens of Irish immigrant families who work on the railway.

Without any warning or questioning, the militiamen simply kicked open the wooden doors one by one.

"FUCK! All of you, get out here!"

The woman's terrified screams, the child's frightened cries, and the man's angry curses all rang out in an instant.

Buck's men ignored all of this and continued to rampage and search recklessly.

A young man who tried to resist was pinned to the ground by three soldiers. Soon, he was beaten until his face was covered in blood and he lost consciousness.

An old woman knelt on the ground, hugging a soldier's leg, crying and begging them to stop.

Her response was a hard kick to the face from a boot.

Buck sat on his horse, watching all of this with a cold eye.

"Search! Search thoroughly! Don't miss a single corner! Drag out every single rat they've hidden!"

They searched the place almost from top to bottom, but found nothing.

Buck's patience has run out.

"ignition!"

He pointed to a wooden hut next to him, which was being used as a makeshift church: "Burn that house down!"

The torches were quickly thrown into the wooden house, and the fire raged.

Buck turned his horse around, looking down at the group of poor wretches.

"This is just a warning! We will be back! If I find any of you harboring those gangsters, I will personally kill you all!"

"Men, women, and your little brats! Leave no one alive!"

After saying that, he led his men away.

Amidst the ruins, the Irish people were heartbroken.

Just then, two figures appeared, carrying a camera and panting.

The flashlight's fuse was lit again.

Jerry hid behind a black cloth, capturing everything in front of him through the camera lens.

"Tap! FUCK! Tap it now!"

Peter urged in a low voice, "Get a close-up of that old woman's face! And the one holding the child!"

"My God, this is art! This is a masterpiece!"

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(End of this chapter)