America 1883: The Western Homeland

Chapter 5 Buying a Mount Alone

"You mean, James barged into that house himself just to find those Europeans going to Oregon and want to team up with them?" Claire asked, frowning.

"That's right!" Tom grinned, his fingers deftly manipulating the trigger guard of the rifle, the gun seeming to come alive in his hands.

"These things," Claire gestured with her chin towards the pile of bullets on the ground, "were all brought back by you?"

Tom nodded eagerly.

Elsa, standing to the side, was even more enamored with the revolver in her hand, turning the gun over and over in her hands.

"Kid," Claire's voice was laced with ice, "aren't you afraid of being robbed halfway there?"

Tom paused, then shrugged nonchalantly: "They wouldn't dare!"

Who would dare rob someone who carries three long spears on his shoulder and two short guns at his waist? That's no different than sticking your neck into a noose!

"Hey, Tom," Elsa finally put down her revolver and looked up at him, "Where's your horse? Aren't you going to buy one?"

"Damn it!" Tom slapped his forehead, then remembered the important matter. "Mom! We can't leave for a while, I'll go get the horse!"

Before he finished speaking, he turned and walked out.

"Be careful!" Margaret's voice rang out.

"Okay!" Tom replied without turning his head.

Watching Tom's figure disappear through the door, Claire couldn't help but question Margaret, "You just let him go out alone like that?"

Margaret didn't stop what she was doing; she was carefully sorting the rifles, pistols, and bullets on the bed.

"He single-handedly caught that conman and pocketed the bounty," she said, taking the dangerous revolver from Elsa's hand. "Do you think I could have stopped him?"

She tucked the gun into its holster at her waist. "Elsa, I'll teach you how to use a gun sometime."

Elsa sighed, "I'm not a three-year-old; I can't hurt myself!"

"Keep an eye on John," Margaret instructed.

"Mary is playing with him," Elsa said, walking towards the door. "I'm going downstairs for a bit."

"Where to?"

"Lobby."

"Don't leave the hotel!"

"Okay!"

After the door closed, Claire sat on the edge of the bed, staring at Margaret, and said seriously, "Are you really okay with letting the children run off on their own?"

Margaret stopped tidying up, her gaze fixed on the closed door. Her voice was low but carried an undeniable calm: "Claire...they need to grow up. Who knows what kind of trouble they'll encounter along the way!"

Claire opened her mouth, but ultimately said nothing. She just sighed heavily and looked out the window at the dusty street with a complicated expression.

Outside Fort Worth, the cattle and horse market was shrouded in dust.

Tom ventured alone into this sea of ​​livestock.

"Not a single horse here is fit for you!" Tom frowned deeply.

Beginners should look for gentle old horses, but after searching all over the area, I couldn't find a single one that could withstand long journeys.

"I want a good horse." Tom's eyes scanned the enclosure carefully.

"Good horses?" The livestock broker beside him scoffed, the straw he held between his yellow teeth trembling. "The good horses are all under the cowboy's saddle! Here? Only fodder for pulling ploughs!"

Before he could finish speaking, Tom's gaze suddenly fixed on the depths of the muddy fence.

The creature covered in mud moved.

"What's that?" He poked the lump of mud with his finger.

The agent squinted, his Adam's apple bobbing sharply: "A mule... a blue mule!"

The mud peeled away in a rustling sound, revealing a bluish-gray fur underneath. The beast, which had been curled up, suddenly burst open like a tightly compressed spring!

His body, as tall as a man, was half a head more ferocious than an ordinary horse. His skeletal frame was taut with sharp, chiseled lines, and his vertical pupils, like molten gold, were fixed firmly to Tom's face.

"Three years old, never even touched a saddle." The agent quietly took a half step back, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "Fifteen dollars! Sign a document, and it's yours!"

A fire ignited in Tom's eyes. Meeting that icy gaze, he slowly raised his hand.

"Don't touch it!" the manager yelled, his voice hoarse.

In the blink of an eye, an iron hoof the size of a wine barrel, accompanied by a foul stench, slammed towards his face!

Tom's back arched back like a fully drawn bow, and in the instant he leaned back, a hoof's shadow grazed his chin, and the splashed mud exploded like poisoned iron filings, hitting him head and face!

"Five dollars!" the agent cried, his voice trembling. "It's yours once you sign the contract!"

Fingers covered in mud pressed their fingerprints onto the parchment scroll.

The crisp sound of silver coins hitting the pocket rang out, and the agent's shoulders slumped: "This little devil... his parents already had him sold off."

He stared into the mule's eyes, which were like molten gold, and his voice was hoarse. "It was so hungry it dared to steal food from wolves' mouths, and it broke the ribs of three cowboys. The fences of Fort Worth? They could never keep it out!"

"Take him away!" The agent, panting heavily, suddenly forced a smile that looked more like a grimace, hissing and spitting out air through his yellow teeth. "Next time... next time you want whatever kind of animal, I'll give it to you... at half price! It's on me!"

But right now, how do we get rid of this living ancestor?

Tom abruptly ripped Colt off, his faded cowboy hat and vest flying into the sand, revealing a sweat-stained, coarse linen shirt.

The man pounced like a cheetah!

The moment the mule's iron hooves took off, Tom's boot heels cracked the ground, and he gripped the mule's mane tightly with both hands.

"Ugh!!"

The mule's neigh sounded like the snapping of a rusty anchor chain, and thirty paces away, a Perch draft horse was so startled that it tore apart an oak post!

The violent roar made Tom's cheekbones tingle, and his mouth tasted of blood.

The beast twisted its waist and swayed its hips like a madman, while Tom's hammer-like knee slammed into the mule's belly and ribs!

The green mule, in pain, unleashed its full ferocity, transforming into a gray shadow carrying sand and dust, smashing through the fence like a cannonball and rushing out!

Tom's left arm locked onto the mule's neck like a viper, his forearm veins bulging like a gallows, his whole body like a branding iron, firmly welded to that thrashing, leaping back.

The sound of hooves thundered, kicking up clouds of yellow dust, and the man and the mule disappeared into the world in the blink of an eye.

The agent collapsed to his knees in the mud, his face as white as a newly painted wall, staring at the plume of smoke disappearing into the distance, only gasping sounds coming from his throat.

The sun was high in the sky when a figure finally came into the agent's view.

A small, mud-covered figure was carried on the back of a tall, blue mule, approaching from afar until it was right in front of them.

The agent squinted to see clearly that the kid was covered in mud and had several fresh bruises on his face.

The pants were torn to shreds, the tattered strips fluttering weakly in the wind.

Tom nimbly jumped off the mule's back.

"Do you have a saddle?" The voice was crisp and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

The agent instinctively replied, "Yes!"

"Give it to me."

"……OK."

The agent looked at the notorious "little devil," a beast that used to get angry at anyone who touched it, but now it was docile and allowed to be ridden, even waiting obediently to get on the saddle.

His gaze finally fell on Tom.

His thin, frail body and still-childish face, along with the few newly added bruises, gave this teenager an inexplicable air of toughness.