America 1883: The Western Homeland

Chapter 38 Frank's Relentless Pursuit

"Wow!" Frank slammed his fist on the carriage side panel, his eyes gleaming. "Great gun! Powerful!"

Frank clapped first, and the other team members, as if waking from a dream, followed with scattered applause.

Although Tom's words stung like a whip across their faces, his superb marksmanship was enough to make these Texas Rangers, who were teetering on the brink of death, lower their arrogant heads.

In the West, bullets are the hardest defense!

They have an almost instinctive reverence for true sharpshooters.

Only Walker stared intently at the spot where Tom had holstered his gun, his gaze complex, and fell into a deeper silence, his rigid face like a weathered rock.

"Even if we confirm the person is in Fort Worth, there's no guarantee we'll get the items back, right?" Frank leaned closer to Tom with enthusiasm, his eager smile setting off alarm bells in Tom's mind.

What's that old fox up to?

"Oh right, look at my memory!" Frank slapped his forehead, as if he had just remembered. "I still don't know your name or what you do for a living?"

"Tom, Tom Dutton," Tom announced his name in a steady voice, "an immigrant going to Oregon."

"Hahaha! Oregon!" Frank's laughter rang out loudly in the silence, carrying a hint of knowing wisdom. "Another silly kid chasing his dreams!"

"Yes," Tom readily admitted.

"Well..." Frank's smile deepened, a glint of predatory gleam in his eyes like a hunter eyeing a fine hound. He leaned forward slightly, lowered his voice, and said with a seductive tone, "Would you like to switch to a more 'interesting' job?"

"What!" Tom looked up abruptly, his pupils shrinking as he stared at Frank in disbelief.

This turn of events is too fast and too bizarre!

"No interest!" Tom's voice was firm and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

No matter what job he took, nothing could shake his determination to go to Oregon to reunite with his family.

"Really not going to hear about the reward?" Frank was still unwilling to give up and tried to throw out bait.

"No interest!" Tom said, enunciating each word clearly, his gaze bypassing Frank and landing directly on Captain Walker. "Now, may I leave?"

Captain Walker nodded almost imperceptibly, his face grim.

Tom turned and strode towards the loach, whose eyes were filled with wild horses.

"Take some men and take the stuff back," Frank instructed Walker in a low voice, speaking rapidly. "I'm going to Fort Worth!" As soon as he finished speaking, he also started walking, following Tom at a distance.

Captain Walker frowned. How could he possibly let Frank go to Fort Worth alone with this mysterious and dangerous boy?

With a wave of his hand, a small group of men immediately spurred their horses and followed in perfect unison, their hooves clattering heavily on the gravel.

Hearing the noise behind him, Tom didn't stop, and without turning his head, he snorted, "Mr. Frank, your claim of being traveling together isn't very convincing."

Frank quickened his pace to walk beside him, a smile plastered on his face: "We're going the same way! Tom, don't be so formal."

Tom didn't bother to expose his clumsy lie, but his gaze swept over the few Texas Rangers who were silently following behind Frank.

A playful smile suddenly appeared at the corner of his lips: "I've heard... in Texas, even the governor has to give your Texas Rangers some respect? Your law enforcement power is boundless, is that true?"

The rangers exchanged glances, each with a hint of pride at having their secret exposed.

One of the team members grinned, a hint of roguish pride in his eyes: "Hey, it's not that complicated! But when it comes to dealing with those clueless criminals... we do have ways to make a 'lasting impression' on them!"

Tom glanced at him sideways, a smile on his lips that carried an undisguised "you're kidding me" sarcasm. He even raised his eyebrows in a gesture that made his meaning crystal clear: I know your tricks.

The team member felt a little embarrassed by the stares and touched his nose.

At this moment, another team member, who was muscular and had sharp eyes, suddenly rode a few steps closer and pulled the reins to Tom's side.

He nimbly dismounted, walked straight to Tom, and with an expression that was a mixture of scrutiny and admiration on his face, extended his hand generously: "William Hunter."

Tom stopped and looked at the outstretched hand, its knuckles distinct and calloused, then glanced at the other person's open and honest eyes.

The playful smile at the corner of his mouth faded, replaced by an equally frank curve, and he reached out and firmly shook hands: "Tom Dutton."

He clenched his fists tightly in the air and then released them.

The two exchanged a glance, a glimmer of light flashing in each other's eyes, a quiet sense of mutual understanding flowing in the air.

Tom walked over to "Loach" and whispered his explanation of their current situation and the decision to return to Fort Worth immediately.

The loach's little ears stood up, as if it understood.

It reluctantly turned its head to look at the elegant yet wild figure on the distant sand dunes, the beautiful wild horse that haunted its dreams.

"Aaaaa!!!"

A long, mournful cry, filled with grief and indignation, as if the whole world had abandoned it, ripped through the air!

The commotion startled the horses of several rangers, causing them to snort.

Tom's lips twitched, and he mentally cursed, "This mudfish's ambition to eat swan meat is just too much to bear."

Fortunately, the wild horse didn't let the loach get close at all.

Perhaps the wild horse also recognized the loach's "extraordinary" nature and kept its distance!

"Tom," Frank rode up and spoke casually, but his eyes were sharp as an eagle's, "regarding that gang of bandits, you... really haven't found anything else?" He was clearly not giving up.

Tom didn't turn his head, his voice flat: "I know, I just poured it all out for you, not a drop left."

"Heh," Frank chuckled, a sly glint in his eyes, "Young man, don't be hasty. I have good news for you. If you can find what they stole..." He paused deliberately, throwing out the bait, "the bounty will be substantial!"

Tom kept walking, as if he hadn't heard, much less pondered, Frank's words.

Frank wasn't annoyed. He continued his description, his voice seductive: "Just think about it, that money... enough to buy a huge tract of fertile land in Oregon, or," he deliberately drawled, "to build a top-of-the-line, custom-made caravan, trimmed with copper, draped with tarpaulins, so your whole family can comfortably travel across the continent!"

Tom's face remained expressionless, like a rock that the wind couldn't move.

Frank narrowed his eyes, finally dropping the bombshell: "The item itself is worth at least this much!" He slowly held up one finger, his voice low but each word clear, "One thousand dollars!"

A thousand dollars!

This astronomical figure struck Tom like a bullet, instantly hitting him in the nerves!

His feet suddenly froze on the spot!

In that instant, a figure appeared in his field of vision deep in the desert, its gaze fixed on him!