Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 34 The Headless Corpse Emerging from the Fog
"The bandits are here!"

The officers, who had just been cursing at each other over a cheesy joke, all fell silent.

Is it really coming?
Fear is contagious.

The residents hiding behind the doors and windows of every house in the town also heard the sheriff's shout.

The women tightly covered the children's mouths, while the men gripped the hunting rifles in their homes with trembling hands.

Hopefully these officers will be of some use, otherwise they'll be in trouble.

As dusk settled, Strawberry Town transformed into a vast, breathtaking battlefield.

The officers in Marin County, along with their temporary reinforcements from surrounding towns, were all loaded with bullets and staring intently at the town's entrance.

A fine layer of cold sweat appeared on their foreheads.

The surrounding fog grew thicker and thicker.

Like an endless white wall, it swallowed up the entire Strawberry Town.

Visibility dropped to less than twenty yards.

"Damn it! This awful weather!"

An officer muttered a curse under his breath, his eyes stinging from trying to see through the thick fog.

He dared not blink, fearing that the gang would burst out of the fog and blow his head off at any moment.

"Da da da……"

In the thick fog, the sound of horses' hooves rang out from afar.

It wasn't just one horse, it was a herd.

The horses moved very slowly, as if they were taking a walk in a thick fog.

Getting closer and closer.

The officers were getting increasingly nervous, feeling their hearts pounding wildly and their mouths going dry.

Some people can even hear the "clucking" sound of their teeth chattering.

What the hell are these guys up to?

If it were anyone else, they would have opened fire already.

But this is a pack of wolves, so we must be extremely cautious.

The infamous reputation of the wolf pack gang is forged in blood and corpses.

No one could help but be afraid when faced with such a group of ferocious demons.

"FUCK! I don't care anymore!"

The young police officer's psychological defenses were clearly on the verge of collapse.

He suddenly raised his rifle, ready to fire.

"Hold him down!"

Sheriff Thompson shoved the gun barrel down, hissing in a low voice, "Do you want to expose all of our positions, you idiot? Nobody is allowed to fire without my order!"

He kicked the young officer, then barked at the men around him, "What are you all standing there for? Bring that big guy over here!"

Four police officers hurriedly lifted a large object wrapped in tarpaulin off a horse-drawn carriage.

That was a Gatling gun.

A heavy brass gun barrel with multiple rotating barrels.

This was Thompson's trump card against the gang, and his greatest source of confidence.

"Quick! Load!"

A police officer, trembling, attached a large, round drum magazine to the top of the machine gun.

Gatling guns of this era did not yet have the convenient chain-fed ammunition of later generations; they still used these bulky magazines.

Even so, its terrifying rate of fire is enough to tear any living thing that dares to charge into a pile of minced meat.

Although Thompson verbally reprimanded his subordinates sternly, he himself was actually extremely nervous.

The hand holding the revolver was already covered in sticky, cold sweat.

Today's battle is of paramount importance.

His life, his future, everything he has, is on this night.

That damned Irish gang was so brutal and had such a terrible influence.

If he could wipe out this gang of thugs, then Thompson would no longer be just the sheriff of this small town.

He will become a hero!
His name will be on the front page of newspapers in Marin County, and even San Francisco!
He will be famous throughout California!

In the next election, with this tremendous contribution, he might even be able to advance further and run for state legislator.

Thinking of this, the fear in his heart was suppressed by a burning ambition.

He felt a great chance tonight.

They were on the defensive, enjoying the advantage of the terrain. The enemy was on the offensive, and in this damned fog, the bandits on horseback were practically blind.

Moreover, more than twenty Sonoma County police officers were lying in ambush outside the town, ready to cut off their escape route at any time.

Our side has the upper hand!

"Da...da da...da da da..."

The sound of horses' hooves grew clearer and closer in the thick fog.

Sheriff Thompson raised his right hand.

All the officers held their breath.

As soon as that arm swings down, a storm of bullets will erupt.

Finally, under everyone's watchful eyes, one by one, figures on horseback emerged from the thick, impenetrable fog.

One, two, three...

Ten, eighteen...

Thompson's pupils contracted sharply, and his arm muscles tensed instantly, ready to strike hard.

But in that instant, he suddenly felt that something was wrong.

A chilling and eerie feeling.

He clenched his raised hand into a fist, signaling everyone not to fire yet.

He rubbed his eyes and strained to look ahead.

The fog was so thick that the figures still looked somewhat blurry.

The way they rode their horses was so strange.

Too stiff.

They were like a group of puppets controlled by invisible threads.

Suddenly, a young police officer with excellent eyesight next to him shouted.

"Ah! They're wearing police uniforms! Sonoma County police uniforms! The one in the front... oh my god, that's Sheriff Miller!"

"what?"

Thompson finally saw it clearly.

When he saw the true appearance of the team, his pupils contracted sharply.

Thompson stood frozen in place.

The other officers nearby also saw it clearly.

Amidst gasps and chattering teeth, everyone involuntarily took a step back.

The group that emerged from the thick fog was not a bandit gang at all.

They were a group of headless horsemen.

Eighteen knights dressed in Sonoma County police uniforms sat quietly on their tall warhorses.

Their necks were bald.

It was stained with blood that had not yet dried.

They held their severed heads in their arms.

Pairs of lifeless eyes stared blankly ahead.

Sheriff Thompson gritted his teeth.

The horse at the very front of the procession.

The head being held was that of Thompson's colleague, whom he had just been meeting with two days prior.

Miller, the sheriff of Sonoma County.

The headless team of Sonoma County police officers simply stopped in front of their lines.

Thompson swayed.

Even though he had handled many cases, the scene before him was still very impactful.

terrible!

A thick fog, a small town, and a headless knight clutching his own head.

Just then, Sheriff Miller's head slid off his chest.

"Gulu...Gulu..."

Sheriff Miller's head rolled and rolled on the dusty street...

It rolled right to Sheriff Thompson's feet.

My eyes are right in front of him!
(End of this chapter)