Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 51 I heard you've been looking for me?

As a new day dawned, a piece of bad news landed heavily on the desks at the headquarters of the Southern Pacific Railroad.

"Bang!"

A valuable crystal glass was smashed against the wall by Vice President David Doughty Colton.

His fat face had turned purplish-red with anger.

"Robbed again? FUCK!"

"What are those Pinkerton bastards doing! Sixty elite soldiers! Did they go on an armed march in Northern California?"

This is the second time in a short period of time!

The company's pay train became a mobile vault for that group of Irish bandits!

Call Pinkerton!

David's cigar was deformed from being bitten so hard, and ash fell in a flurry: "Tell them that either they get our $80,000 back, or they're prepared to pay three times the penalty for breach of contract!"

"I don't care how many people die, it's all clearly written in black and white in the contract!"

The telegram quickly arrived at the headquarters of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency in Chicago.

The regional supervisor who received the telegram was immediately struck by its absurdity.

He held the thin telegram and looked at it three times. He recognized every single word, but when they were put together, he just couldn't understand it!

"Impossible, this is absolutely impossible!"

"They can even take on more than a hundred Federal Army soldiers in the field! Completely wiped out?"

Before he could be angry for long, the Southern Pacific Railroad Company called with questions.

"We will send someone to the site immediately to verify!"

The regional manager, barely suppressing his anger, said, "We cannot accept any claim of breach of contract until the facts are clearly investigated!"

After hanging up the phone, he immediately gave the order: the California branch should spare no expense and send people to Rattlesnake Canyon immediately. He needed to know what had happened there!
……

The town of Saint Rafael.

When Aaron Cross walked out of the sheriff's office, the gang that had besieged them all night had vanished without a trace.

"Ah!"

"They're nothing but a bunch of rats who can't stand the light of day."

"They only dare to bare their teeth in the darkness of midnight, but as soon as the sun comes out, they are so scared that they run back to their stinking ditch in a panic."

He summoned Skinny Monkey and One-Eyed Dragon, as well as a weary-looking Thompson.

"Thompson, come with me to Rattlesnake Canyon."

"Major, now?"

One-Eyed Dragon couldn't help but advise, "Those Irish mad dogs are too rampant. Let's wait for the main force of the militia to arrive before we act together. That would be safer."

Cross turned his head sharply, squinting and glaring at him.

“I’m Allen Cross! The Sacramento Butcher! With me around, isn’t that safe enough?”

The skinny monkey and the one-eyed dragon both fell silent.

They knew Cross's temperament all too well; the word "back down" was not in the dictionary of this former Union Army major.

With a reluctant escort from Sheriff Thompson, the group rode out of San Rafael town on horseback, kicking up clouds of dust.

On the dirt road leading to Rattlesnake Canyon, they encountered a bumpy horse-drawn carriage carrying several men carrying heavy cameras.

He is a reporter from the newspaper.

Kroos reined in his horse, watching the carriage hurry away, his sneer deepening.

"Did you see that?"

“Those vultures that get excited at the smell of blood are bolder than you.”

"Before we even set off, they had already returned with the first bite of a hot corpse."

"A bunch of bastards who only know how to talk nonsense."

Skinny Monkey complained in a low voice from behind: "Last time in Sacramento, it was these bastards who turned a reasonable clearing operation into a bloody massacre, causing you, Major, to be questioned by those idiots in suits."

Amidst their complaints, they arrived at their destination.

Even though they were mentally prepared, the horrific scene still made them gasp in horror.

The destroyed railway tracks twisted and contorted, like the dying skeleton of a giant beast.

The overturned armored wagon was blackened by smoke, and charred firewood and burnt ashes were scattered not far away.

More than a dozen corpses were scattered haphazardly inside and outside the carriage.

Cross dismounted and went straight to a corpse.

He crouched down, pried open the dead man's mouth with his dagger, looked at the ash in his throat, then stood up and carefully examined the bullet holes left by the inside-out shots on the carriage.

Thick smoke... suffocating... blind firing from the inside out... blocked exits...

The massacre of last night was vividly replayed in his mind.

“FUCK!” Cross cursed under his breath. “These robbers are devils! Ruthless and cunning!”

Suffocating people alive in a tin can with thick smoke is a tactic that is simple and brutal, yet extremely vicious!

"Boss."

One-Eyed Man stepped out of the carriage: "The number of people is wrong!"

"We counted and counted, and there were only twenty-eight corpses here."

Cross frowned.

Of the sixty-man action team, twenty-eight died. What happened to the remaining thirty-two?
Could it be that the body was taken away by the robbers?
He smiled coldly.

The Pinkerton Detective Agency has really suffered a huge setback this time.

Not only was the money stolen, but thirty-two of their elite agents also went missing.

Given Pinkerton's temper, he definitely won't let this go easily.

There's something good to watch now.

……

Just as Cross had predicted, the brutal details of the Battle of Rattlesnake Canyon quickly spread throughout California via telegram and through journalists.

The front page headline of the San Francisco Chronicle, written in strikingly large lead type, read—

Pinkerton's Waterloo! Sixty elite soldiers perish in the valley, the Irish devils unleash another bloodbath!

The newspapers were snapped up instantly!
Reprint! Reprint immediately!
Editors-in-chief in major cities are going crazy; this is definitely the hottest news of the year!
That's the Pinkerton National Detective Agency!

This private armed force, which represents strength and professionalism throughout the United States, was almost completely wiped out by a group of Irish bandits in a small canyon in California in such a humiliating manner!
This news story has violence, suspense, and a subversion of authority—it's practically the perfect bestseller!
On their way back, Cross and his group passed by the place where they had been attacked the night before.

"The Weeping Widow's Pass..."

Crossler stopped and looked around at the narrow pass, flanked by steep mountain walls—an excellent ambush location.

His face was ashen.

Last night, he was beaten and forced to flee in a sorry state by a bunch of rabble here, which was the greatest humiliation of his military career!

"A bunch of trash!"

"Once my militia battalion arrives, I will make sure that the blood of those Irish bastards flows all over this damned pass!"

“Major, the locals call this the ‘Weeping Widow’ Pass,” Thompson said cautiously, trying to change the subject.

"The weeping widow?"

The skinny monkey chuckled, "I'd be happy to let them cry even louder, as long as they're pretty enough."

The laughter stopped abruptly before the joke was even finished.

Because, at the exit of the pass in front of them, dozens of knights had appeared out of nowhere!

They sat quietly on their horses, lined up in a row, blocking the exit.

Everyone's face was covered with a bright red scarf, with only pairs of cold eyes showing.

The dark muzzles of guns were pointed at them from afar.

Thompson's face turned deathly pale.

"It's them...it's that gang of thugs from last night! Shit! What are they still doing here?!"

Cross's pupils suddenly contracted.

"damn it!"

He gritted his teeth: "Appearing in broad daylight... These bastards are truly lawless!"

"Major!"

Thompson was trembling with fear: "Let's get out of here! There are too many of them!"

Kroos quickly glanced at the comparison of the two sides' strength.

The other side had at least thirty people, and they were clearly prepared.

On their side, including that useless Thompson, there were only four of them.

To fight head-on would be tantamount to throwing an egg against a rock.

"withdraw!"

Cross pulled hard on the reins, turned his horse around, and prepared to retreat out of the pass from the direction they had come in.

But as soon as he turned his head, he froze in place.

At the other end of the pass, another cavalry team appeared.

The leader was a burly man with a physique as large as a bear.

He rode a magnificent black horse, his messy red hair billowing in the wind.

Finnian raised his eyelids, his murky and savage eyes piercing through the crowd and locking onto Cross.

"Old man, I heard you've been looking for me?"

(End of this chapter)