There is no perfect crime in the world. The so-called perfection is just that the loopholes are covered up layer by layer, so that the truth is obscured.
In San Francisco, Algren was sitting in a bar trying to get drunk. Unlike the taverns in Whitestone Town, this place was full of well-dressed gentlemen, at least on the surface.
The wear and tear of alcohol had not completely broken down his straight back. This made Algren, who took off his military uniform and put on a suit, still have a completely different temperament from those soft-whispering drinkers. Although he was sitting alone in the corner, he still
He couldn't stop the shy or blazing eyes of those ladies from wandering around his body.
"Captain! I knew you were here." A rude shout made all the gentlemen in the bar frown. Sergeant Gant, unaware of it, squeezed past several obstructive tables and chairs and ran towards Algren.
.It seems that due to his strong body like a black bear, the disturbed gentlemen did not speak out to reprimand him.
Algren raised his head and glanced at his old comrade. Without saying a word, he continued to drink the glass of whiskey in front of him that was almost at the bottom.
"I always advise you to stop drinking these days, but today old Gant wants to have a drink with you! Haha, you can't believe it." Gant gasped, pulled away the tie that made him feel particularly uncomfortable, and grabbed the wine glass.
He drank down the glass of whiskey that belonged to his former boss and took a picture of a newspaper in front of Algren's eyes.
"Look, look, that son of a bitch Bagley is dead, thank God! This is such pleasant news." Gant clasped his hands ten tightly, and the ferocious and thick big arm muscles were faintly visible.
It's beating, as if it's going to crush someone's head.
"Look what the newspaper said: 'When our reporter rushed to the military camp that was cursed by the devil, the scene had been cordoned off by the military, but the headless corpses still made the reporter pray sincerely from time to time... Everyone
He was killed, and there was only one officer left in the entire military camp who had gone completely crazy. It was reported that this man's name was Jim, he had the rank of second lieutenant, and he had won many combat awards... 'What a pity, Freckles is not dead!"
Gant pointed his finger along one of the lines in the news and continued reading: "Haha, right here, you see, 'As of the date of publication, the head of the supreme commander, Major Bagley, has not been found. Let us wish him in heaven...' Haha
!This bastard is not worthy of heaven. Let him wait for me in the area first. I hope there is no military rank there."
Algren raised his head blankly, as if he was digesting the shocking news, and then grabbed the newspaper. His hazy drunken eyes immediately became extra serious. He read word by word: "'Bless him to have success in heaven.
Peace...'You're right, Sergeant, Bagley can't go to heaven. He is a sinner. Sooner or later, we will be reunited with him in hell."
"Hey, Captain, you're going to heaven." Gant muttered dissatisfiedly, and then said excitedly: "We should really thank the guy who sent him to hell, but we probably won't have this chance, you see."
Gant opened the other side of the newspaper. The huge wanted notice on it was no different from the one in Whitestone Town.
"Look, one hundred thousand dollars! Killers and bounty hunters from all over the United States should have flocked to Texas to find this mobile gold mine. We killed so many Southern bastards for only a few hundred dollars in subsidies.
Damn bureaucrats...those guys at the War Department will never let him go."
Algren didn't care who killed Bagley, but consciously or unconsciously, he would always recall the mysterious Easterner who had some unpleasant contacts in the Cheyenne tribe, and vaguely felt that Bagley
His death must be related to the other party.
"Could it be him...beheaded..." Algren muttered to himself.
The ghostly skills, the calm and indifferent eyes, and the cold long knife... Thinking that he and Gant were captured without any resistance, this was an almost impossible thing to happen.
Algren believed that he was one of the best in the entire 7th Cavalry Brigade. In terms of fighting, even the powerful Gant was no match for him. In terms of marksmanship, he was confident that he would be on the same level as the Confederate Army.
Having dealt with many enemies, coupled with his instinct for danger after experiencing a long war, Algren didn't think anyone could defeat him in terms of combat skills.
"Perhaps only such a person can kill Bagley and defeat the entire cavalry company. Besides, he has every reason to do so." Algren drank the last sip of wine, grabbed the jacket on the back of the chair and turned around and said:
"Gant, I want to go back and take a look."
The sergeant laughed, took out two train tickets to Texas from his trouser pocket, raised his head proudly and said, "I guessed it a long time ago! Captain, we are traveling together."
Algren was stunned. He smiled bitterly and patted Gant on the shoulder, "Sergeant, thank you..."
Gant waved his hand: "Sir, there is no need to thank me. Even if you don't go, I will go. I have a hunch that one hundred thousand dollars is waving to us. With this money, you don't have to be a son-of-a-bitch Wen."
Ambassador of the Chester Company, these arms dealers are all warmongers who deserve to be hanged ten thousand times...May God bless you."
Are you beckoning... Algren felt a chill running down his back, as if a terrifying figure in the distance was really calling him. He shook his head, shook off these irrelevant thoughts, and said to Gant sincerely: "Believe me, Zhong
Sir, if the Lord really favors us, He will not let that one hundred thousand dollars appear in front of us."
Gant was stunned.
Baishi Town, which is located next to the east-west transportation thoroughfare, was originally not worthy of the word desolate. However, since the legend emerged that Bagley was beheaded and the 7th Cavalry Brigade Company was cursed by the devil and the entire army was annihilated here, those merchants and travelers even detoured.
The road no longer chooses Baishi Town to rest overnight.
Even those residents who have lived in the small town for generations, those who can move out, drive carts and horses, load up all their belongings, and head off to distant places.
If it weren't for a large number of killers and vagrants who wanted to earn bounties, I believe this western town would soon be abandoned and become another birthplace of ghost stories in the Texas Gobi.
It was past morning, but the town that was supposed to be full of life was eerily quiet. Algren and Gant were in a daze.
The two of them rode horses and watched at the entrance of the town. In front of them were only empty streets and all kinds of debris blown around by the wind and sand.
"We have only been away for a short time, and White Rock Town has become like this. Alas, it seems that all the girls in the town are gone. I just hope the tavern is still open." Gant muttered while chewing tobacco leaves.
"Don't worry, Sergeant, the tavern will not be closed. Look, there are a few horses tied at the door. They should belong to homeless people." Algren looked at it for a moment and said, "Let's go and investigate first."