America 1881: Legend of the West

Chen Jianqiu and Sean quickly returned to the door of Mark Twain's room.

The five detectives at the junction of the aisles came running back, quickly returning to their positions while staring warily out of the train.

"What's wrong?" Chen Jianqiu asked the familiar detective nonchalantly. It seemed that he was the little leader among these people.

"The Indians are here, I guess it's the same gang from the night before yesterday. They're here to rob the train."

Train hijack? I'm afraid they're here to take hostages.

The gunfire started crackling, and it seemed that the rear part of the car was already on fire.

"Aren't you going to help?" Chen Jianqiu asked, leaning against the door.

"Boss, I think what this gentleman said makes sense. We have to go and support him. Otherwise, the boss will say that we are losers and we won't have a share when the money is divided at the end of the year." Someone next to him said to him. Chen Jianqiu agreed with what he said.

The little detective leader hesitated for a moment, then looked back at the second room that Chen Jianqiu and Xiao En had just opened. Then he made up his mind and pointed at the two detectives closest to him:

"You two, follow me to the front. The rest of you will stay here."

He turned to Chen Jianqiu: "Brother, please help keep an eye on this place. If the Indians come close, kill them directly."

"Don't worry, I'll leave this place to you." Chen Jianqiu said to the little detective leader with certainty.

The three detectives then ran toward the back of the car with guns drawn.

At the same time, Chen Jianqiu felt footsteps coming from the roof of the car. Well-trained detectives were running across the roof of the car to provide support towards the rear of the car.

He walked to the car window in the aisle, opened the curtain, and looked outside.

The train was passing through a wilderness at this time. On the side and rear of the train, dust was flying everywhere. A group of Indians were riding horses, rushing down from a bare hill and approaching the rear of the train.

They were coming directly to the carriage from the night before, or in other words, they were coming to save their high priest.

Chen Jianqiu saw clearly the appearance of the Indian who was at the front.

This man was exactly the man he had fought with in the carriage the night before. He was now wearing classic Indian clothing, with long hair draped over his shoulders and piercing eyes.

"Geronimo, it's Geronimo!" the detective next to Chen Jianqiu exclaimed.

Geronimo?

Chen Jianqiu frowned. According to the information he got from Adam, this person should have been dealing with the US military in the southwest of the United States for a long time, and he had long been trained to be slippery.

Unless absolutely necessary, he would never choose to take the initiative to attack a train equipped with elite Pinkerton weapons, nor would he choose to chase the train on horseback in the open wilderness in broad daylight, which meant that the casualties would not be small.

After 1860, the Apache warriors really lost their lives one by one.

But how could the Apache chief not know this?

But the priest imprisoned in the train is not only his teacher, but also his few remaining close friends. The Apache tribe will not give up the life of any tribesman, let alone this respected spiritual leader.

Even if you risk your own life, you have to save him.

"Luo Cen, the people with you are covering the side, Benniu and the others will get on the bus!"

"Ya!"

A woman wearing an Indian dress flashed behind Geronimo. She raised her reins, shouted, and rode out, leading a dozen horses into a queue.

Pinkerton's detectives were already stationed on the terrace outside Astor's box. They relied on their bunkers and began shooting at the Indians.

Lozen raised the Henry 1860 repeating rifle in her hand. She leaned forward slightly, focused on aiming, and fired two shots in succession.

Two Pinkerton detectives were shot. One of them was dragged behind by the people next to him. The other was not so lucky. He fell forward directly, climbed over the railing, and fell from the train. He fell to pieces. Vague.

This Henry 1860 is the best gun that the Apache Indians can get. It comes from a U.S. Army corporal who died under Geronimo's axe.

It was awarded to Loczen, one of the fiercest female warriors in North American Indian history.

After the first kill, the Apache warriors began to follow their female warriors and attack the Pinkerton detective on the train.

The weapons in the hands of the Indian warriors were not considered advanced. Except for a few warriors who had guns, the weapons in the hands of others were even bows and arrows, broadswords and spears.

Their range has a natural disadvantage.

What's more, they were still chasing the train on horseback, and the advantage of the cavalry's speed was greatly weakened.

The detectives' guns began to fire intensively. Russell did not think that his men would be at a disadvantage against these Indians.

Indian warriors were constantly being shot down and dismounted. They were shot at different locations, but they were seriously injured even if they did not die after falling from their horses that were galloping at high speed.

Geronimo glanced at the unknown soldiers behind him, and his teeth were almost broken. He kicked the Appaloosa horse under him hard and accelerated toward the carriage where the priests were detained.

Pinkerton's detectives came within range of their bows and arrows. Geronimo crouched on his horse, dodged a bullet fired at him, nocked an arrow and took aim at a detective who was shooting at Lozen.

"Whoosh!"

The fingers that were tapping the bow and arrow loosened, and an arrow shot out of the air, piercing the air and hitting the detective's neck directly.

The detective's neck was stabbed and he died on the spot.

A wave of arrows came from the direction of the rear of the car. The Indian warriors' arrows were so accurate that at least three or five Pinkerton detectives were hit by the arrows before they could dodge.

But when one of them hid behind the bunker and pulled out the arrow from his arm, he found that the blood flowing out of him had turned dark purple.

"The arrow is poisonous!" His voice was hoarse and full of despair.

"Hurry! Don't let them get close to the train!" Russell knew well the power of these Indians when they got close.

The detectives fired back with more force, their weapons were more advanced, their training was better, and their shooting accuracy was very high.

Geronimo's heart would tremble every time an Indian warrior died. These people had followed him for many years, traveling around the American West.

But when I asked them if they wanted to participate in this rescue operation, they all chose yes without hesitation.

He drew arrows from the quiver faster and faster. Every time an arrow flew out, a Pinkerton detective would be hit by an arrow, and then face death on the spot or a life worse than death in the next few decades.

And the gunshots from Luo Cen's side never stopped. She used the gunshots to announce the arrival of death on the other side.

The Indian warriors were getting closer and closer to the train.

When Russell saw something was wrong with the form, he called over to a burly bearded detective next to him and gave him instructions.

The man and another man ran toward the bucket truck with coal in the back.

The two of them came to the bucket truck. Beard untied the chain on the edge of the bucket truck, and the four surrounding baffles fell down.

All the coal in the bucket truck slid down onto the rails along the bottom of the wagon, and the wagon finally revealed what was originally covered under the coal.

A Gatling gun.

two more

Thanks to Lazy Love for being late and giving me a big monthly ticket