In the wild west of the United States in the 19th century, time often passed very slowly, but it also flew by unknowingly like fine sand between your fingers, especially when you worked hard for something.
I went out to the east until the sun set in the west, and then I found that I had not made much progress, and what should have been a beautiful day ended like this.
Brandy used personal experience to prove the correctness of this statement. When he finally found a suitable camping place before nightfall and lit a simple campfire, he and the "Ms. Margaret"
The distance between them is less than 15 miles.
This was already the limit of his physical ability, so much so that he couldn't even guarantee that he would be able to walk so much tomorrow, and this mere 15 miles was nothing compared to the distance he planned to walk.
At this moment, he was sitting directly next to the fire, with a black-tailed rabbit missing its head and fur attached to the rough-cut pointed stick in his hand. The fracture on its neck was very ferocious, and even had a kind of interlocking canine teeth.
I mean, that's because its head was almost shattered into pieces by a rifle bullet.
The flames licked the muscles and bones of the rabbit, and the rabbit meat, which had been simply treated with ground thyme and a little salt mixed with a little pepper, gradually revealed an attractive color.
However, the gradually spreading fragrance could only slightly soothe Brandi's fatigue and hunger for the day, but it did not help at all with his feeling of powerlessness.
At this moment, for the first time, Brandy missed the era when she could hail a taxi within a few minutes by using her mobile phone. However, now, Henry Ford has applied Taylor's assembly line technology to automobile manufacturing, making automobiles
It will take at least another 15 years for it to become an essential means of transportation for ordinary people in the United States.
As early as 1478, Italian scientist and inventor Leonardo di Piero da Vinci proposed a car design with self-propulsion function. For this kind of clean and hygienic transportation that does not require domesticated livestock,
, human beings seem to have always had an obsession, and this idea that was full of science fiction and even somewhat fantasy at that time was put into reality after James Watt improved the steam engine and the wave of the industrial revolution rolled in.
possibility, and in 1885, the world's first three-wheeled car powered by an internal combustion engine was launched. Since then, human travel has embarked on a path of irreversible change.
However, for the American West in 1899, the object of the automobile still existed only in the half-dreaming murmurs of visionaries and the jokes of some "civilized people" who seemed to be knowledgeable in the eyes of ordinary people but were actually just sitting in a well and looking at the sky.
From God's perspective, these people are naturally short-sighted, but no matter what, everything always happens for a reason.
The reason why cars once became a less positive joke in their mouths is because of the race in 1890, whether it was a race of more than 6,000 kilometers, as many as 2,000 participants, or from major financial groups.
In the SBR competition, where even the support of the country and the various secrecy behind it were unprecedented and unprecedented, the car brought by the Germans to compete broke down just 400 meters from the starting line because it ran out of gasoline.
Gloriously, on the first day of the race, this world-famous event was ranked last in the rankings. The emerging product of the industrial revolution and the German aristocrat who brought it over had no choice but to stay on this land.
They left behind their own dignity.
Therefore, even at the turn of the century, there are still no traces of cars in the vast land of the American West. Even the big shots in Blackwater and St. Denis only decorate their rickshaws or private carriages with the utmost luxury.
, instead of chasing the fashion of technological development and buying yourself a car that is not necessarily practical or attractive so far, this cannot be said to be short-sighted. It can only be said that the development of automobiles so far, no matter from which aspect,
None of them show any advantages over horses.
But fortunately, Americans have always been very pragmatic. If the manufacturing and design of cars really make breakthroughs and become more adaptable to the needs of the public, they will ruthlessly abandon the horses that have accompanied them for hundreds of years.
They abandoned them and embraced their new steel friends, but that is all a story for another day.
Therefore, for Americans in this era, it was almost impossible to travel long distances without taking a train or horses.
But Brandi didn't think so much, and his knowledge of such things is also very limited. He is just worried about how long it will take him to reach the Emerald Ranch when he only knows the general direction and has no map assistance.
?
"By the time I get there, I'm afraid Arthur will have to lie on the mountain and watch the sunrise." Brandy took the slightly burnt rabbit off the campfire, tearing and chewing the dry and woody rabbit meat, feeling in her heart
I couldn't help but feel a little melancholy.
Ever since Brandy boarded the ghost train inexplicably, he has lost control of the specific date. However, what happened next told him that weird things always happen.
When he realizes he has strayed into the territory of the legendary wanted criminal Philippe Carril, his first instinct is to run away.
As a veteran player of Red Dead Redemption with more than a thousand hours of game play, although he has forgotten many details in the game, he still remembers several legendary wanted criminals on the list in the online mode, among which the most terrifying
The colorful Philippe Carrier left an indelible impression on him.
Brandy doesn't think that with his current ability, he can escape from the killing array set up by the elusive Nightcrawler and the crocodiles in the swamp. He even feels that even if all members of the Van der Linde Gang are here, they will be able to escape.
Eighty percent of people will fail in their home games, and it is almost certain that they will lose. Even if someone fails here, it would not be surprising.
This chapter is not over yet, please click on the next page to continue reading! However, Brandy's plan still failed, because the madman's behavior pattern has always been beyond the expectations of normal people, and he finally fell into the trap and sank into the trap.
In the illusion created by that weird drug.
When he woke up, except for the weapons he carried with him and a few personal belongings, all his belongings, including Jueying's, were gone. He almost returned to before liberation overnight - assuming that his coma was really only one night.
Just as Brandy was fermenting his melancholy through the not-so-palatable roast rabbit meat, he suddenly heard the sound of horse hooves stepping on the solid mud from far to near. Not long after, from behind the dark bushes,
A figure riding a horse came out of the road. The moonlight sparsely shone on the figure's back through the branches and leaves of the ancient trees, making his face more and more unclear.
Brandi did not hesitate, and by the light of the campfire, he deliberately looked leisurely, took the Mauser pistol in his hand, and pulled the bolt. The brass bullet reflected the light of the fire and was as dazzling as gold.
The famous writer Conan Doyle said through the mouth of his character Sherlock Holmes: "The rows of lovely houses in the countryside are often a breeding ground for terrible sins." The picturesque countryside of England is like this, and the United States is far away from it.
This is even more true in the wilderness of civilized society.
Whether in a single-family wooden house far away from the city or in an uninhabited wilderness, the only shackles that restrict people's behavior are their own moral standards. In places where laws and regulations cannot reach, even ordinary people will
Inadvertently exposing the ugliest and most animalistic side of oneself.
Therefore, it is no wonder that people who often camp in the wild always react excessively to strangers approaching their campsite. It is a small matter if you appear unfriendly, but it is a big deal if you accidentally lose money and life.
At this point, Brandi naturally knows that the evil of human nature cannot be fundamentally curbed by a few more ubiquitous cameras. In this case, in order to ensure his own personal safety, he has to shoot a few more innocent dead souls.
, it’s okay.
As the visitor approached, by the firelight, Brandy gradually saw clearly the man's scruffy brown-and-white beard and tired look, as well as the equally tired sand-colored Morgan horse under his crotch.
"Sir, I advise you to stay away from here." Brandi said calmly, but the gun was already pointed at the person coming.
"Oh, don't be excited, friend, I don't mean any harm," the visitor raised his hands knowingly and said, "I'm just an ordinary traveler who wants to find a place to rest."
"There are many places suitable for camping, not just my place." The muzzle of the gun did not change its position, and Brandi looked at the other party with increasingly indifferent eyes.
"You are right, friend, but unfortunately, I have run out of matches and the flints have been thrown away. Otherwise, there is no need for me to risk my life and run around in the wild, right? I have nothing important to do.
Traveling all night." The man pointed helplessly at his pocket and explained.
After weighing it in his mind, Brandi pointed his gun at the revolver on the opponent's waist and the repeating rifle slung on the saddle, and said: "In that case, you can come over, but I will keep your weapons for the time being.
.”
"This..." the man heard this and asked hesitantly, "Then how should I protect myself if I encounter danger?"
"Don't worry," Brandi raised the Mauser pistol in his hand and said, "I will protect you."
Subject to human beings and being killed on the spot, no one would be able to choose this multiple-choice question.
As a result, there was a tired middle-aged man beside Brandi, and an equally tired sand-colored Morgan horse.
The man was allowed to keep the backpack he carried with him. As for his guns, they were safely placed closest to Brandy's right hand at the moment, especially the revolver, which seemed to be easier to hold than the Mauser pistol in the holster.
.
Brandy ignored the man and continued to chew her roast rabbit.
The man's eyes were fixed on the roasted rabbit meat in Brandy's hand, and he swallowed involuntarily, but soon he noticed that the young man who seemed to be wholeheartedly chewing the tempting rabbit meat had not been able to
Wang spared a hand to touch the handle of the pistol at his waist, and cast his eyes wisely on the jumping and burning flames.
At this time, something dark and fragrant stood in front of the man's eyes. He took a closer look and saw that it was a slightly roasted rabbit leg that exuded a unique fragrance.
Following the hand holding the rabbit leg, the man saw a pair of bright green eyes.
"If you starve to death here, I can't guarantee that any idiot passing by will think that I am the murderer." Brandi's tone was very cold, without any ups and downs, and did not reveal the slightest kindness.
However, in the face of a hungry stomach, any hesitation is irresponsible for one's own life. The man was just stunned for a moment, then snatched the rabbit leg from Brandy's hand and started chewing it without caring about the image.
The moon moved slowly above the sky, and at some point it quietly disappeared behind the shadow of the cypress trees. The night became completely dark, and the light from the scattered stars could not illuminate this land. It could only be like those with lights on in the wilderness.
Like a single-family house, it adds a soothing glow to the world at night.
The light from the campfire was a little dim, but fortunately it was still able to drive away some of the coolness of the night.
A hare with its fur and internal organs removed doesn't actually have much meat left, so it can't completely solve the hunger problem of an adult man, but it can at least provide some heat to warm itself.
But Brandi felt it was okay. She thought back when she was walking alone in the snow-capped mountains, it was common for her to be hungry and full. Occasionally, if she was unlucky, she might not be able to eat for a day or two.
As for the traveler who got here halfway, although he already looks old and eats much less than Brandi, his energy is much better, and the fatigue on his face seems to be relieved a lot. He even has the energy to talk to Brandi.
Brandy struck up a conversation with Brandi, but unfortunately, Brandy was not interested in chatting with strangers.
This chapter is not finished yet, please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content! However, Brandi refused the traveler's conversation, but could not stop the man's own chatter. The journey in the western wilderness is always boring, especially
For travelers who are on the road alone, therefore, whenever such people meet someone they can talk to - this kind of person does not even need to be a human being - they will start pouring out their accumulated savings almost desperately, regardless of whether the other person is willing to communicate.
The words that have been spoken for a long time seem to be donated to those in need after they are finished.
Faced with such endless chatter, even though Brandy didn't hear a word, she also felt bored. It was like hearing the vague buzz of mosquitoes while half asleep, and no matter how sleepy she was, she couldn't get rid of it.
The urge to jump up and shoot it to death.
"Hey, I said you..."
"Want a drink?"
Just as Brandi was about to speak to interrupt the man's ramblings, a small wine bottle with the lid opened blocked his view. The wine bottle exuded an unusual aroma of wine, and it clearly contained high-quality moonshine.
Brandi turned her head slightly and saw that the old man's nose was already red and his eyes were slightly blurred. He was six to seventy percent drunk, but the small wine jug was clearly filled with more than half of the wine.
"No," Brandi waved her hand and continued, "and I think you've drunk enough."
"Ha! Stop talking nonsense, I'm not drunk yet," the old man smiled boldly, took another big sip, shook the bottle at Brandy, and said, "Believe it or not, when I was young, such wine
, I can drink ten bottles a day.”
Naturally, Brandi would not believe the drunkard's bragging, and had no time to respond. He just continued to look at the fire and be in a daze.
"Ahem, what a boring young man." The old man muttered, and then poured another large gulp of wine into his stomach.
The alcohol content in the small flask was not low, and he drank it so fast that his liver, which was older than his real age, could not help him relieve the hangover even if it was working at full capacity. Within a few minutes of drinking the wine, the old man's nose and cheeks
He turned red all over, and looked even more energetic under the light of the campfire.
The old man poured the wine jug casually. The jug was now empty, with only a few drops of remaining wine left.
"I really...can't help but drink..." the old man muttered, and dropped the wine bottle with a bang. It bounced in a high arc, and then disappeared into the grass up to his ankles.
.
Brandi was interrupted from his daze. He raised his head and met the blurred eyes of the drunken old man.
"The sins...the sins I bear? You don't believe it when I say it..." The old man's voice was very deep, but when this voice was transformed into words through his tongue that was already unable to move well, it seemed a bit funny, "But...if I could
A little whiskey to soothe the throat, or something else... maybe... I might... burp~... I'm interested in telling you..."
Of course, Brandy didn't have whiskey. If he had, he would have brought it to accompany the meal. He thought for a moment, turned sideways, took out a slightly deformed cigar from his butt pocket, and lit it with the flames of the campfire.
, handed it to the old man's mouth.
"That's all," Brandy said. "If it weren't for the boring night, I wouldn't be bothered to listen to you."
The old man chuckled, took the cigar, and took a deep breath. A trace of intoxication appeared on his red face: "I haven't tasted such a good cigar in many years... The last time I smoked it, I was riding a fast horse.
Slaughtering buffalo on the prairie, racing with those Indians...well, this also shows that it is indeed worthy of my story."
The old man took another breath, this time very slowly, as if he wanted to fully chew the taste and soak it deeply into his lungs before spitting it out.
"My family...had some connection with the Braithwaite family...you should know, right? The Braithwaite family, the family that made its fortune from plantations, horse business and slave trading, has a super luxurious mansion.
And the family with a vast land... My great-grandfather and grandfather were all housekeepers of their families. Up to my father's generation, because he was too... How do I put the word... Yes, uneducated and incompetent... So,
I just got a job as the head overseer in the plantation... I was responsible for managing the black slaves who worked in the plantation... Yes, there were still a large number of black slaves on this land at that time... It was really quite
A distant era..."
"I grew up listening to the sound of whips and the cries of black slaves... When I was very young, I watched my father punish those black slaves. He never cared about the method of punishment in front of anyone.
, even in front of my own son... I really wish I had never witnessed those scenes... I don't know clearly, but I beat a strong black man to death with my own hands, and tortured an underage black girl until she was incapacitated.
My father in the province was more cruel, but I was still watching indifferently, and sometimes I was even more cruel when I helped him... These days lasted for many years, until President Lincoln won the Civil War, my father lost his job, and soon fell ill and died.
, I also left Lemoyne to try my luck in the outside world."
"You should know Camp Riggs, right? Yes, that's right, it's just south of Strawberry Town. However, a few decades ago, there was no Strawberry Town there... Right there, those Indians were imprisoned like livestock.
In the cage...some of them will be pulled out and executed, sometimes shot, sometimes beheaded, sometimes hanged. However, what my friends like the most is to tie them to wooden stakes and skin them alive.
Their scalps, drinking with their screams, and watching them slowly die is one of their pastimes..."
"Why do you do this kind of thing? Ha, of course it's for money, what else... No one would persecute other people just for fun... Well, they pay a lot of money! Those government guys...
...However, the money was quickly spent, but...but the bad things done...no one can erase..."
"I know that feeling...I was still young at the time, but...I still remember those faces...as if they happened yesterday, really...as if they were engraved in my mind..."
The old man finished his chatter, threw the cigar butt into the fire, belched, and a circle of smoke came out of his nostrils and mouth.
Brandy remained silent from beginning to end. The old man's story was not very organized, and was long-winded and confusing. It was easy to make people feel bored, but Brandy did listen.
"Nice story." Brandy's comment was brief.
"This is more than a story, this is history, my history."
After the old man corrected him, he wanted to say more, but then he yawned loudly.
"Suddenly I feel... a little sleepy... That's okay, but I don't know how long... I can sleep this time..."
The old man muttered, stretched greatly, and then lay down on the grass. Not long after, snoring could be heard.
"This man...has a really big heart."
Brandy looked at the old man who had just fallen asleep in surprise, and withdrew the hand that was stroking the handle of the gun on his waist from time to time.
He simply stacked his two long guns and the old man's repeating rifle, and just put them on this hard and painful "pillow" for his head.
Brandy originally thought that he would just watch the sky gradually turn from dark to white, but unexpectedly, he fell into sleep after just lying down for a while.
Snores like broken bellows and slightly softer snores began to come one after another, echoing the snoring of horses from time to time, the occasional chirping of insects, and the crackling sound of flames licking firewood, making the tranquility more vibrant.