novelAbuy Chapter 52 The Strange Tom
Chapter 52 The Strange Tom
Despite James' repeated reminders, not everyone has his superb horse control skills and steely nerves.
Fear is contagious.
"Stay calm! Everyone stay calm! Panic is the worst thing you can do when crossing a river! Moving around is suicide!"
Thomas yelled at the coachmen who were about to cross the river, his voice filled with anxiety.
Just in case, James had Tom ride a mudskipper and stand guard in the shallow water on the shore, like a lifeguard.
"Listen, Tom," James said, his eyes gleaming, "if anyone falls into the water, throw them a rope and pull them up immediately! But remember—don't let them touch your horse! People in the water will grab you like a lifeline and drag you down!"
However, Murphy's Law has proven true once again.
When a carriage veered off course at the edge of a ditch and terrified immigrants screamed as they fell into the water, Tom did not hesitate to spur his horse forward and throw a rope to a struggling woman.
The moment the woman grabbed the rope, her survival instinct unleashed astonishing strength, pulling the unsuspecting Tom off the horse!
"Splash!" The icy river water instantly submerged Tom.
A powerful undercurrent churned him, the murky water choking his mouth and nose. The immense force made his vision blur and his consciousness fade. He seemed to hear a heart-wrenching scream: "Tom—!"
He suddenly opened his stinging eyes, but the river water immediately blurred his vision.
He immediately closed his eyes, but the unique "vision" in his mind clearly showed that the woman who had fallen into the water was clinging to his arm and struggling frantically, and the enormous force was dragging him down with her!
In a flash, Tom didn't hesitate at all!
He moved with lightning speed, pressing down hard on a precise spot on the back of her neck!
The woman's body stiffened abruptly, she stopped struggling instantly, and went limp.
Tom immediately grabbed her collar, kicked his legs hard, and swam against the current towards the shore with all his might.
"Tom!!!"
As soon as it emerged from the water, its mother Margaret's tearful cries pierced its ears.
She rushed down the riverbank without hesitation, the shallow water almost reaching her waist.
Tom gritted his teeth, dragging the unconscious woman with each step as if carrying a thousand-pound burden, and finally staggered onto the solid riverbank. Immediately, several hands embraced him tightly, anxiously checking him for injuries.
"I'm fine!" Tom gasped for breath, his lungs burning with pain.
Only he himself knew the terrifying amount of physical strength it took to drag an unconscious adult human body ashore in the raging torrent; it almost drained him of his last bit of energy.
Despite Tom's tireless dives into the water to rescue them, and despite the ropes providing some protection, the brutality of the Brazos River far exceeded expectations.
Panicked horses, out-of-control heavy carriages, deadly undercurrents and deep ditches... the icy river water ultimately and mercilessly swallowed too many lives.
As the last carriage wobbled and climbed onto the west bank, the survivors collapsed in the mud, their cries and wails replacing the previous clamor.
On the murky river, scattered luggage and... some silent bodies floated.
The price of westward expansion was, at this moment, the yellow sands of the Brazos River stained red with blood and lives.
The afterglow of the setting sun, like molten gold, was splashed onto the weary western shore.
Tom slumped on the muddy riverbank, his body wet and cold, every muscle screaming with soreness, as if he had just fought with evil spirits from the bottom of the Brazos River.
"This isn't your fault, Tom," his mother Margaret's voice, filled with deep concern, rang out beside him.
She looked at her son's pale and tired profile and knew he had done his best.
Tom didn't turn around, his voice a little hoarse: "I'm not sad, nor do I feel guilty. Just... awe."
He gazed at the turbid, rushing river and thought, "The power of nature is too great."
"Tom! Your behavior is making your mother worry!" The sound of galloping hooves approached, and James's tall figure loomed over them. He dismounted.
"Yes, I'm alright, ma'am!" Tom took a deep breath and struggled to stand up, but his legs felt like lead.
Just then, the loach that was circling the Snow Woman in the distance seemed to sense its master's predicament.
It suddenly turned its head, saw Tom's staggering figure, and immediately took off running.
It stopped in front of Tom, its big, wet eyes full of confusion, as if asking: What's wrong with you?
Tom felt a warmth in his heart and reached out to rub the loach's firm neck firmly: "It's okay, I'm fine!"
He gritted his teeth, used the momentum to stand up, and slowly but firmly moved towards the camp.
Margaret looked at her son's back, which seemed as if he might collapse at any moment, and said with great concern, "He's in such bad shape, James."
"He's fine," James said calmly, his gaze following Tom. "He's just... sometimes too kind."
In the eyes of this tough pioneer, his son's excessive sense of responsibility was sometimes almost a burden.
Margaret raised an eyebrow, looking at her husband with a probing gaze: "Oh? Then tell me, from whom did he inherit this 'kindness'?"
James was momentarily speechless, as if he had been choked, and immediately turned around with a straight face: "Ahem! There's still something I haven't finished dealing with."
He slipped away quickly.
After Wade had exhausted all his strength to drive the cattle across the river, several newly dug pits appeared on the bank, silently telling the story of the past tragedy.
The next morning, Tom was awakened by a sharp argument and cries.
He rubbed his throbbing temples as he crawled out of the tent, only to run into his worried mother.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Yesterday, during the river crossing, a lot of the migrants' food was washed away! Now, some people in the group are...stealing other people's rations!"
Margaret lowered her voice and pointed in the direction of the commotion in the center of the camp. "Captain Shay took James there to deal with it."
Tom's eyes darkened, and without saying a word, he turned and went back to his tent.
When he came out again, he was still wearing his pajamas, but there was a cold revolver at his waist, which he gripped tightly.
In the center of the camp, the conflict was raging.
The weak Joseph was pinned to the ground and brutally beaten by a fat, bear-like man, simply because he wanted to reclaim a small bag of life-saving food that the man had stolen from him.
Nearby, Joseph's thin wife was also grappling and fighting with the fat man's shrew, creating a chaotic scene.
boom--!
A deafening gunshot ripped through the morning hustle and bustle, plunging the entire camp into deathly silence!
Captain Shay, who was about to draw his gun, froze, staring in astonishment.
Tom, dressed in pajamas, stood on the outskirts of the crowd, wisps of smoke rising from the muzzle of his revolver, which was pointed in the direction of the gun.
The fat man's tattered felt hat was precisely blown off by the bullet!
Tom's voice was icy cold, carrying clearly to everyone's ears: "The grain, give it back. Or not?"
A foul-smelling liquid gushed from the fat man's crotch, soaking the ground beneath his feet.
The fear of death gripped him, and he stared in horror at Tom's calm eyes, the finger on the trigger seeming ready to fall at any moment.
"I...I'll pay! I'll pay!!!"
The fat man let out a pig-like scream, scrambling towards his carriage, frantically dragging out the sack of grain, practically throwing it into Joseph's arms, then staring at Tom as if he were a devil.