America 1881: They Call Me Legend

While Brannan was chasing his rival with a pistol on the beach at Hyde Street Pier.

Hanif is staying at his house downtown.

His wife actually returned to her natal family.

Hanif's mother-in-law is sick and needs her daughter to go back to take care of her for a few days.

Not far, just in Sacramento.

Hanif dug out two sausages from the cabinet, threw them into the iron pan and started frying them.

Soon, the smell of meat, tangerine peel and rosemary filled the room.

A piece of bread, a glass of milk, two sausages.

This is the dinner for the assistant chief of the California branch of the Frontier Detective Agency.

After finishing his homemade dinner, Hanif threw the plate on the table.

He didn't want to wash the dishes at all.

It is really not difficult for him, a bounty hunter who used to eat and sleep all year round, to fill his stomach, but it is too difficult for him to wash the dishes.

Hanif lifted the kerosene lamp from the table and put it on the wooden table next to the sofa.

He turned the knob on the side of the kerosene lamp.

This knob is used to control the in and out of the wick, which can adjust the brightness of the kerosene lamp.

Hanif turned the kerosene lamp to maximum brightness.

He picked up a palm-sized comic book from the crack of the sofa and began to read it.

This comic book was given to him by Chen Jianqiu.

Hanif was not at all interested in this stuff.

He only has a soft spot for novels that describe the complex physical relationship between men and women.

There are people in San Francisco who write this stuff, basically a copy is published on the market, and Hanif buys a copy.

But now since the boss asks to read the comics, let's read them.

However, what he didn't expect was that this comic book was surprisingly interesting.

"Duk, tuk."

Just as Hanif was looking at the comic book with relish, there was a sudden knock on the door.

This is the door-knock code of the Frontier Detective Agency.

Hanif put down the comic book in his hand and raised his head.

It's so late, how could there be a subordinate, no, a colleague knocked on the door.

If it was before he was masturbated, the subordinate detectives might have come to report urgent work. At this moment, they should go to Downey.

The knocking sounded again.

It's still the same rhythm as before.

Hanif thought for a moment and stood up.

He went to the desk, opened a drawer, and took out a revolver.

This revolver, except for the first one, is always loaded, so that it can be fired at any time.

Hanif put the gun in his waist and walked to the door.

He opened the door.

Standing outside the door was a bearded old man whom he didn't recognize at all.

He carried a leather bag in his hand, which was bulging.

"Mr. Hanif, may I come in?" the bearded man asked.

"Who are you? I don't think I've seen you before." Hanif looked up and down the person in front of him.

When he was a bounty hunter, he was known for his good memory, otherwise he would not be able to remember the fugitive's face.

But he had no impression of the person in front of him at all.

The bearded old man opened the leather bag in his hand, and there was a paper bag inside.

Although the light in the corridor outside the door is not good, this does not prevent the contents of the paper bag from making Hanif's eyes shine.

That's dollars.

Looking at Hanif's expression, a trace of disdain flashed in the eyes of the bearded old man, but it disappeared quickly.

"Mr. Hanif, you won't let me stand outside all the time?"

He closed the leather bag again, and asked Hanif who hadn't looked back.

"Come in, come in." Hanif turned sideways and let the old man in.

The old man stepped over the threshold and began to look at the decoration and furnishings of Hanif's house.

But before he took a few steps, he was startled by Hanif's shout.

"Change your shoes! Sir!" Hanif took out a pair of slippers from the cabinet and threw them in front of the old man's eyes. "My wife is not here, so I don't know how to clean!"

The old man caught a glimpse of the disc on the table, and the flesh on his cheek jumped.

The two sat down on the sofa.

Hanif did not have any intention of pouring water or coffee for the guests, but rubbed his hands together:

"What's your name?"

"My name is Cherry Myers, you can just call me Myers."

The old man was none other than the famous Pinkerton detective—Hellman, and Miles was his alias and one of the multiple identities he had used.

In a sense, this identity is real, and there is even a birth record.

"So, my respected Mr. Miles, you came to my house at night with a bag of dollars, what do you want me to do for you?"

Hanif's gaze was still on the leather bag, but his mouth was eloquent.

"Our detective agency has a wide range of businesses. We have rich experience in security, escort, and hostage rescue. Of course, the border detective agency also has the largest information network in the entire west. If you need to find someone, we can also undertake it."

Heilmann waited silently for Hanif to finish speaking.

Then he shook his head.

"What? None of these businesses?" Hanif scratched his hair, and then stroked his tall beard.

He pondered for a moment before whispering to Hellman:

"Sir, if you want to buy someone's life, the detective agency will not accept this business on the surface, but I can help you handle it in private."

Hellman laughed.

"No, no, Mr. Hanif, you are thinking too much. I don't need anyone's life."

Hanif was stunned:

"Then what are you going to do?"

Heilman stood up and started pacing back and forth in the room:
"Mr. Haniff, I am from the Pinkerton Detective Agency. We have your details."

"You used to be an excellent bounty hunter in Wyoming. Five years ago, you brought your entourage Downey to hunt down Mr. Chen Jianqiu. Ah, yes, your current boss has arrived in New Mexico."

"I don't know what happened later. Mr. Chen Jianqiu suddenly became the top rich man in New Mexico, and you joined him as the head of the California branch of the Border Detective Agency."

"The Border Detective Agency is also growing bigger and bigger under your leadership."

Hanif frowned.

The person in front of him can be said to be very familiar with his own experience.

So, what is he going to do?

Hellman stopped:

"But have you ever thought that he never trusted you?"

"Just because of a small matter, he will be furious at you, put you in charge of such an excellent person into limbo, and let your former apprentice be your current leader."

"This is an insult."

Hanif sank into the couch without saying a word.

Hellman observed Hanif's expression and struck while the iron was hot:

"Pinkerton Detective Agency was forced to withdraw from California due to some reasons. However, we never gave up here."

"And here we are, and we need an excellent person to lead the Pinkerton Detective Agency back to life."

"We feel that you are the most suitable candidate."

As Heilman spoke, he took the bag out of his purse and threw it into Hanif's arms.

"This is just a deposit. If you are willing to join us, we will give you a salary of [-] US dollars a month."

This salary is twice that of the original head of Pinkerton California.

Heilman believes that this price should be regarded as very sincere.

Hanif reached into the paper bag.

He doesn't need to look or count, he just needs to pinch the thickness of each stack of dollars to know how much money there is.

There were about two thousand dollars in the paper bag.

Hanif had a smile on his face.

Heilman understood that this smile meant that Hanif was tempted.

The information is indeed correct.

This man is a man who sees money openly, and is even more greedy than he imagined.

"If you want, you can contact me at any time." Hellman took out a small piece of paper from his clothes and handed it to him. It had an address written on it.

"Okay, Mr. Miles, I will consider your proposal."

Hanif smiled, shook Heilmann's hand, and sent him out the door.

Hanif closed the door after Hellmann disappeared down the corridor.

The smile on his face disappeared.

Hanif casually threw the paper bag in his hand on the sofa, and snorted:
"Two thousand dollars? Fifteen hundred dollars a month? What about beggars?"

Not to mention that this amount is far from his current salary.

Hanif has not counted the shares and dividends!
A bunch of poor ghosts still want to poach the wall. Does it mean that they are not sincere?Or poverty limits their imagination.