novelAbuy Chapter 4 Purchasing Weapons and Equipment
Chapter 4 Purchasing Weapons and Equipment
Early in the morning, the aroma of coffee filled James's room on the second floor of the Caln Hotel.
The family sat around the table, but the atmosphere was somewhat tense.
Elsa looked haggard, with dark circles under her eyes.
Tom ate a piece of hard bread and asked casually, "When are we going to collect the money?"
"Are you in a hurry?" Margaret asked, carefully observing Elsa's expression as she cut bread.
Tom was in a hurry! That was a full three hundred dollars! In an era when a worker earned only $1.5 a day, that was enough to buy a farm!
"We'll go after we finish eating," James's voice came from across the street.
Upon receiving confirmation, Tom immediately put down his knife and fork.
He deftly pulled a roll of bright green banknotes from his pocket and slapped it onto the tablecloth in front of James.
"One hundred dollars, my 'bonus'," Tom said quickly, "is that enough to buy a Winchester 1873 lever rifle? And some bullets too?" As he spoke, he unbuckled two heavy pistols from his waist and pushed them over as well. "I don't know what kind of bullets these two use, but the gun shop will definitely have them."
The air froze instantly!
One hundred dollars! Two revolvers gleaming coldly! Everyone at the table stared wide-eyed.
"Tom!" Margaret's voice suddenly rose, filled with shock and anger. "This money! And this gun! Where did they come from?!" She almost stood up.
Before Tom could even speak, Elsa, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, blurted out, "The gun and money must have been taken from that conman on the train!" She seemed to remember more, and spoke even faster, "He also had a gold pocket watch! He had even more money, but he gave it to that bearded conductor!"
boom!
The air around the dining table seemed to be on fire!
Margaret's expression was a mix of shock, bewilderment, and heartbreak, as if asking, "How could my good son have turned out like this?"
Aunt Claire's gaze swept back and forth between Tom and the Duttons like a searchlight, and a barely perceptible smile even appeared on her lips.
Tom took a deep breath, slowly leaned back in his chair, and stared coldly at Elsa's face: "Thanks!" He was practically laughing in exasperation.
This silly woman just saved her last night, and she turned around and sold him out completely!
"Very good," James put down his knife and fork, leaned forward slightly, and stared at Tom with interest. "So, what about the rest of the money?"
Tom didn't mince words: "Could we buy a horse? We're heading west soon, and I can't possibly run on foot, can I?"
"Pfft!" Elsa laughed as if she'd heard the funniest joke in the world. Her previous haggardness vanished instantly, and she pointed at Tom, laughing exaggeratedly. "You? You want to ride a horse? You're not even as tall as a horse's leg!"
Tom ignored her noisy laughter and focused only on James.
James looked Tom up and down, noting his slender frame and short stature, and pondered for a moment. "It's your money, so buying a horse is fine. But..." He paused, a hint of amusement in his eyes, "Good horses aren't cheap, and whether there are any... suitable for your 'height' is another matter."
puff!
"Hahaha!" Elsa couldn't hold back any longer and slapped the table, laughing so hard she almost fell over.
Tom jumped up! The chair legs scraped loudly against the wooden floor.
Without even glancing at the burst of laughter that erupted behind him, he grabbed his hat from the table and strode out of the hotel without looking back.
The streets gradually awakened, and the footsteps of pedestrians and the creaking of shop doors breaking the morning silence.
Tom's gaze swept across the noisy crowd, and was suddenly caught by a swaying black shadow in the distance. On the rough noose at the entrance of the town, a corpse was hanging, swaying slightly in the morning breeze!
"This is the West..." Tom murmured to himself, a barely perceptible tremor in his voice.
"That's right." A deep voice sounded from behind, carrying the cold hardness of the West. "That's what happens to thieves."
Tom turned around abruptly.
James Dutton had somehow appeared behind him, his tall figure almost blocking out the sunlight.
The rough, large hand instinctively rose, wanting to pat the son's head.
Tom almost instinctively tilted his head, nimbly dodging the calloused hand.
James's hand paused in mid-air for a moment, then fell naturally, his face expressionless, seemingly unconcerned about Tom's dodge.
"Let's go," he said succinctly, his gaze shifting from the gallows to the depths of town, "first to the bank."
"Just the two of us?" Tom pressed.
"Yes." James nodded, took a step, and his boots made a solid sound on the hard dirt road.
Tom said no more and quickly followed, leaving the cruel silhouette swaying in the morning breeze behind.
The bank was much simpler than I had imagined.
A small room, a few old desks, and rows of well-worn benches—that was all their belongings.
The process of collecting the bounty was surprisingly quick, much to Tom's surprise.
The clerk made a simple phone call to verify, and a few minutes later, a stack of bright green banknotes was pushed in front of them.
Three hundred dollars! A thick stack of cash!
James glanced at the money, but instead of taking it, he pushed the banknotes towards Tom, saying, "Take it yourself."
Tom was somewhat surprised and looked up at his father's resolute face, which looked as if it had been carved by a knife and axe.
Without saying a word, he grabbed the stack of money and shoved it back into James's hand.
"Stock up on plenty of food and supplies," Tom said decisively, with an air of unquestionable authority. "I don't want to run west on an empty stomach with frozen toes!"
James looked at his son's serious expression, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
He didn't refuse anymore and readily put the money in his pocket.
Tom inwardly scoffed: Tsk, why bother? He's still just a child; he's really not suited for playing tricks!
Next, we headed straight to the gun shop.
The gun shops in the small town also exude a rough and rugged charm.
Several rows of rough wooden planks were nailed to the wall to serve as shelves, which were piled high with rifles and boxes of ammunition.
The glass display case was crammed with all sorts of revolvers, their metal parts gleaming coldly in the dim light.
The father and son had a clear goal.
Tom headed straight for the Winchester 1873 lever rifle, but to his surprise, James also promptly picked out two Colt M1873 revolvers, plus a Winchester rifle of the same model!
Including Tom's gun and several boxes of bullets, ninety dollars were spent in no time.
It turns out Dad didn't not want to buy a gun, he just didn't have any money in his pocket!
"It's time to go back!"
"OK!"
Tom carried his beloved Winchester 1873, following closely behind James.
Three brand-new rifles were carried on the shoulders of the father and son, standing out like three conspicuous flagpoles on the dusty street!
Passersby turned their heads, their eyes filled with surprise and wariness. Who was this tough guy who could acquire so many hard weapons in one go?
"Tsk, we should get a carriage to transport them," Tom muttered under his breath, feeling uncomfortable under those gazes.
Just then, a deliberately hushed murmur cut into their ears like a knife:
"Have you heard? That immigration team that left a few days ago... they were robbed! The bodies are piled up like a small mountain!"
"Oh dear, what a disaster..."
"Absolutely! Their luck has really hit rock bottom!"
Before the words were even finished!
James, who was walking ahead, suddenly stopped! His heel dug into the ground like a nail, and his tall body tensed up instantly.
His hawk-like eyes were fixed on a dilapidated and inconspicuous house by the roadside!