Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 69 Lucy, Who Doesn't Follow the Path
The soldiers swarmed forward, beating them until their heads bled, then roughly tied their hands behind their backs and bound them tightly.

"You bunch of bastards! You'll pay for this!"

"Let me go! What you're doing is illegal!"

Lieutenant Buck, mounted on his horse, looked down at the group of prisoners: "On this land, my word is law!"

The soldiers frantically tore at the duffel bags on the horses.

They cut open the canvas bag and dumped all the clothes, speech drafts, and other items inside onto the ground.

"Damn it! There's nothing there!"

"There aren't any here either! There are only a few smelly newspapers!"

Buck's brow furrowed more and more.

Were we tricked?

At that moment, one of the soldiers searching Dennis's mount suddenly stopped.

He reached deep into the leather duffel bag and found a round object wrapped in oilcloth.

The package emitted a strange smell, similar to quicklime.

"Lieutenant... come and take a look at this..."

Buck immediately dismounted and grabbed the oilcloth bundle in his hand. Feeling the shape of the bundle, every nerve in Buck's body tensed instantly.

Could it really be...

Under the horrified and bewildered gazes of everyone, including Dennis, Buck shakily untied the rope.

The moment the tarpaulin was lifted, everyone gasped in shock.

It was a human head.

A human head, preserved with lime and preservatives, with an eerie grayish-white hue.

That face was twisted and ferocious.

But Buck recognized him at a glance.

It's Allen Cross!

The man who took an arrow for him on the Indian battlefield!
The officer he vowed to take back his head so that he could be laid to rest!
"No!"

A low growl, not like a human voice, was squeezed out from deep within Buck's throat.

"Found you... Allen, I... I found you!"

"That's not ours!"

One of Dennis's men immediately realized this was a frame-up: "God is my witness! We have no idea what that thing is!"

This explanation ignited the fuse of the explosives.

Buck suddenly looked up, drew his gun, and aimed it at Dennis's forehead.

"You bastard! I'm going to kill you! I'm going to tear you to pieces!"

"No! This is a trap! It's a conspiracy!" Dennis exclaimed in fear, backing away repeatedly.

Death is at hand!
Buck's finger was already on the trigger.

"Lieutenant, please stop!"

Buck's men reacted quickly and grabbed his wrist.

"Calm down! This is the governor's order!"

The militiaman roared, "Have you forgotten? The governor said that if you dare to execute anyone or incite racial conflict again, he will personally send you to a military court!"

"To hell with the court! I'm going to shoot these bastards right now!"

"Think of Major Cross!"

The militiaman clung tightly to his arm: "He's a special envoy sent by the governor! Killing him is declaring war on the state government! These bastards are political prisoners and must be tried publicly! They must be hanged and die in front of all Californians! That's the best way to honor the major!"

Upon hearing the word "gallows," Buck finally regained some of his senses.

Yes... killing them now would be too cheap.

He wanted to take them back so that the judge could convict them.

Let all of California see that this so-called leader of the Workers' Party and representative of the Irish is nothing but a scumbag who colludes with the murderer.

Ironclad evidence.

Aaron Cross's head was found in their luggage.

In any case, those bastards are doomed.

“Heh…heh heh…” Buckson chuckled softly, putting away his revolver.

"Take them back! Lock them all up! I want to see them strangled to death with my own eyes!"

Upon receiving the order, the soldiers breathed a sigh of relief. Having found Major Cross's head, they finally had an explanation.

……

Strawberry Town, second floor of the general store.

Lawson put down his teacup.

He watched the whole show from the perspective of the assassin.

Everything is perfect.

Dennis, this political rogue who is good at inciting populism, cannot die at the hands of Irish thugs.

If he were to die, he would become a tragic hero who spoke out for the people and revealed the truth, a martyr.

That Irish gang of thugs will also be nailed to the pillar of shame for counterfeiters.

That kind of death is utterly worthless.

And now...

Irish bandits killed Cross.

Lieutenant Buck of the state militia found Cross's head in the luggage of Irish leader Dennis.

In this way, who the hell would believe it if I tried to tell the world that Dennis had nothing to do with the Irish gangsters?
This mudslinging has been firmly dumped on Dennis and the Irishman's heads.

Now, the Irish leader has fallen into Buck's hands.

A hate-filled, nearly insane executioner shares a room with his mortal enemy.

Lawson could almost foresee what would happen next.

Dennis died in Buck's cell.

Unable to withstand torture, they committed suicide out of fear of punishment, or were shot dead on the spot while attempting to escape from prison.

Isn't this perfectly reasonable?

"Mr. Lawson, Mr. Lawson!"

A soft cry pulled Lawson back to reality.

Lucy puffed out her cheeks and glared at him angrily: "You're daydreaming again!"

The lump of clay on the potter's wheel in front of the little girl had completely spiraled out of control, swaying and twisting like a drunken snake.

"Please help me!"

She grabbed Lawson's hand and shook it vigorously: "I wanted to make a piggy bank, but now it looks like a puddle of mud that's been run over by a carriage!"

Lawson was somewhat speechless. All the women around her were trying to make bottles, jars, or plates, but she was determined to make a piggy bank, and in the shape of a pig at that.
Lawson sighed and pulled up a stool next to the little girl to sit down.

"Take your hand away, let me demonstrate for you."

Instead of teaching Abigail step by step like Ethan had done before, he wet the mud himself and easily gathered and shaped it back into a round clay piece in a few strokes.

"Look, first turn it into a ball, or an egg."

"Oh!" Lucy's eyes lit up.

Lawson handed control of the potter's wheel back to her, instructing her from the side: "Steady, gently shape it with your fingertips, don't always try to crush it... Yes, give it four short legs... Hey! The legs don't need to be that long, do you want to make a giraffe?"

Under Lawson's sharp-tongued guidance, the lump of mud finally began to resemble a pig, although it looked more like a potato with legs.

"Nose! How do I make a nose?" Lucy was facing another problem.

Lawson stroked his chin and studied him for a moment: "What do you think that fat baker in town looks like?"

"Huh?" Lucy was taken aback, then burst out laughing: "His big, flat bulbous nose?"

"That's right. Use your thumb to press gently against its face, then poke two holes with a toothpick."

Lucy understood immediately and did as she was told, grinning mischievously.

A lifelike "baker's style" pig nose was thus created.

"It's a success! Mr. Lawson, you're a genius!"

Lucy danced with joy, exclaiming, "It's so ugly it's adorable!"

Lawson looked at the comical creation and laughed.

He had just mentioned it casually, but he didn't expect Lucy to be so capable and quick to understand.

Shaping people's hearts seems to be no different from playing with mud.

Then Lucy asked Lawson to make her a large mushroom-shaped clay model.

Excited.

(End of this chapter)