America 1881: They Call Me Legend

Chapter 103 Famous Writers - Mark Twain

"Boss, why do we take the train?" Xiao En, who had put on new clothes, asked Chen Jianqiu who was looking out the window.

"Because it's fast." Chen Jianqiu's answer was as concise as ever.

Apart from a heavy cowhide bag beside him, their horses, luggage, and even the dull bird had all boarded the train with them, in the freight car at the back.

The leather bag was bulging, and it was filled with green dollar bills.This is part of the Jew Sigmund's half-life savings, and Chen Jianqiu found it in Thomas' lair.

There are not only the dollar bills they robbed, but also other things, such as guns, horses, bullets, and the white clothes of the Ku Klux Klan.

Chen Jianqiu returned with a full load of things.

He asked Browning to ship all the horses and some of the guns, together with the previous batch, to Zhang Danian; and then unloaded the rest in the warehouse of the gun shop.

Afterwards, he carried a large cloth bag and Browning from the car and went into the back room again.

By the time he came out, he had officially become the major shareholder of Browning Gun Shop (Montrose Branch) and Browning Gun Factory.

Chen Jianqiu glanced at the shareholding confirmation letter stamped in his hand, and a smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.

He stuffed the paper into the leather bag beside him.

This train was bound for New Mexico, all the way south.The railway was built along the north-south Rocky Mountains, God knows how many lives and blood of Chinese laborers were consumed.

The scenery outside the train also changed from the green and snow-capped mountains of Cumbreras to a hundred miles of wilderness full of cacti and loess everywhere.

The front of this old-fashioned steam train sprayed thick white smoke all the way backwards, accompanied by the piercing siren sound from time to time, drifting to Chen Jianqiu's window.

The railway itself was not paved evenly, and genuine sleepers were used underneath, which made the train a bit bumpy and noisy. The noise it made as it passed each section of the track echoed the sound of the siren, making Chen Jianqiu's brain ache.

He closed the window and looked back into the car.

It was a regular car, with passengers boarding from various cities in Colorado, and some from farther afield, such as Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Chen Jianqiu and his team kept a low profile, and they sat apart.

Danny and his wife were sitting at the front of the carriage. Teresa might have been exhausted and a little tired, so she fell asleep leaning on her husband's broad shoulders;
Asuka and Holmes sat two rows in front of them. Under Teresa's care, Asuka's injury has improved greatly, and there is no problem with his movements. Holmes, don't say anything about sitting with Sean. together.

So the black man sat next to Chen Jianqiu.

As for Adam, he sat at the back of the car, and Chen Jianqiu didn't even need to look at him. He must have put his hat on his face at this moment, half lying on the chair and sleeping soundly.

While other people left Montrose with more or less food or necessities in their bags, he stuffed them with wine bottles.

In addition, if there is no accident, Hanif and Downey should also be on this train, but they are in other compartments.

After the Montrose incident, Haniff sent Downey a message saying that they had encountered the Pinkerton men about ten kilometers away from Montrose, and he was watching them.

As for the woman in the red dress, it's time to go to South Carolina to collect the bounty.

"Hey, boss, does that person on the other side worship us?" Xiao En leaned into Chen Jianqiu's ear and whispered.

"Huh?" Chen Jianqiu looked across.

A middle-aged man was holding a notebook in his hand and a pen in the other hand, while writing something on the paper, he raised his head to observe them from time to time.

"Look, he is secretly observing us while he is doing what he is doing." Sean said proudly.

"Xiao En, remember, the next time you meet someone who does this, you'd better run away. They should be Pinkerton's detectives." Chen Jianqiu patted the black man on the shoulder, and then stopped talking to him.

He also began to observe the middle-aged man opposite him.

He wore a gray suit with a plain vest, and like most respectable people of the day, he wore a bow tie, though the tie was a little wrinkled and crooked.

His face was already a little wrinkled, and his hair was a little naturally curly.

However, the most impressive thing is the thick beard under his nose, which almost covers his entire upper lip.

Seeing Chen Jianqiu also looking at him, the middle-aged man was a little embarrassed for a moment, he put away his notebook, walked over, and sat down on the seat across the aisle from Chen Jianqiu.

"Hey, hello, my name is Samuel Langhorn Clement, and I'm a writer. I'm sorry for looking at you very rudely just now." The middle-aged man greeted Chen Jianqiu.

Chen Jianqiu didn't speak, just smiled.

The middle-aged man thought that the two people with different skin colors in front of him could not understand English, so he smiled awkwardly.

But Sean spoke up: "Wow, are you really a writer? I admire writers the most. Are you famous?"

Middle age is even more embarrassing.

"Uh, actually, it's okay. You must have heard of my pseudonym, which is Mark Twain."

Xiao En continued to blink his eyes, but Chen Jianqiu already understood who the person in front of him was.

One of the greatest American writers in the [-]th century, the founder of critical realism in the United States, once served as a navigator in Mississippi and Navigator, his pen name is derived from the early sailor term - three feet deep in water.

Chen Jianqiu pushed Xiao En's illiterate head aside, smiled and said to the writer: "I have known you for a long time, I have read your "Asceticism", it is very good."

Seeing this unobtrusive Chinese suddenly mention his works, Mark Twain seemed a little excited. He was already very famous in his 40s, but he still didn’t expect that a Chinese would read his ten books. Works from years ago.

"Ha, that book is my experience more than 20 years ago. At that time, I was as young as you and traveled in the West." The writer was very happy. "My cousin worked in Nevada, and I traveled all the way to find him. It was also during that trip that I met many Chinese people like you, they are hardworking and simple, but..."

"But what?" Chen Jianqiu asked calmly.

"But easygoing and insensitive." Mark Twain shrugged. "Forgive my bluntness, friend."

Chen Jianqiu was not angry. He knew that the writer in front of him might be telling the truth.

Instead of continuing on the topic, they changed the question.

"What are you doing here?"

"Huh? Me? I just wanted to hang out and see if there was any other inspiration. I went to New Mexico and then went back to California."

The writer did not deny his itinerary and purpose, he touched his arms: "Smoking cigars? Sir?"

But suddenly an explosion sounded in front of him startled him, and the cigar in his hand fell to the ground.

The train stopped slowly.

Several gunshots rang out, and then several hoarse voices came in from outside the car.

"Get all the fuck down for me, robbery!"

　Thank you for not saying suffocate you, Mengda, Yichi Guanzhu's monthly pass,

　　Thanks Zixie for the reward

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(End of this chapter)