SWDnovel Chapter 39 The Robbers' Lair Finally Revealed
Chapter 39 The Robbers' Lair Finally Revealed
Tom never expected that he would catch a glimpse of that mysterious old Indian man again in this desolate desert!
The old man's withered figure was faintly visible on the distant sand dunes. He nodded slightly to him from afar, his cloudy old eyes seemingly filled with some indescribable gratitude.
A chill instantly crept up Tom's spine!
He abruptly looked away, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
"Indian," Tom thought to himself, "I hope this is the last time I see him!"
The journey took five days, faster than Tom had anticipated.
The outline of Fort Worth finally became clear on the horizon.
This journey allowed Tom to fully appreciate the ferocity of the Texas Rangers; their teamwork was seamless, and their individual combat skills were as fierce as wolves.
Tom, without hesitation, revealed his trump card: the gun in his hand seemed to come alive!
Long-range sniping?
The prey fell to the ground.
Mounted archery?
Even more astonishing!
To put it simply, operating a heavy Winchester lever rifle while riding at full speed is unthinkable!
The loading process alone is enough to keep people busy!
But Tom did it!
Not only did they fire, but every shot hit its mark!
This incredible marksmanship left the Ranger men speechless with amazement.
As the sun was almost directly overhead, the group finally arrived at their destination.
Clefthoof Valley!
Tom would never admit that he did it for the thousand dollars.
"This is it, Tom?" Frank reined in his horse, his voice brimming with barely suppressed excitement, his eyes fixed intently on the treacherous gap ahead.
He nodded.
"William!" Frank hissed, his eyes instantly sharpening like a hawk's. "Take your men in! Keep your eyes peeled!"
"Assemble!" William's roar echoed like thunder across the empty wilderness, startling several vultures.
The well-trained Rangers scattered and then regrouped in an instant, Winchester lever rifles being drawn from their saddle holsters in unison, producing a chilling metallic scraping sound.
They formed a loose, wedge-shaped attack formation, fingers on the trigger guards, muzzles of their guns slightly lowered, warily pointing towards the dark entrance of the canyon, and began to advance cautiously.
"Watch out for ambushes! There might be rats hiding in this godforsaken place!" William's roar echoed between the jagged rock walls.
Tom's "vision" had already surged into the canyon like an invisible tide, quickly sweeping across every corner.
It was almost identical to the scene he had "seen" before.
Dirty! Chaotic! Dilapidated!
The makeshift shack, hastily built against the rock face, was crooked and supported only by a few rotten logs and tattered canvas; a strong gust of wind could easily blow it down.
Where dried meat used to hang on the rocks, now only a few lonely ropes sway in the wind; the meat strips have long since been eaten by some wild beast.
Only the stone house built of rough stones, like a stubborn scar, still stands there, silent and conspicuous.
As the team finally stepped into the narrow entrance of the canyon, an indescribable, nauseating stench hit everyone's face like a real fist!
It was the heavy, foul stench emanating from hundreds of cows crammed together, mixed with the sour smell of fresh cow dung fermenting under the scorching sun, the pungent bloody and muttony smell emanating from piles of untanned hides, and the sour odor of rotting food scraps in the corner.
They twisted into a foul, thick, almost suffocating miasma that lingered in this enclosed valley for a long time!
"Moo—!" The mooing of the cattle broke the silence and cheered everyone up—there were living creatures!
"Warning!" William's voice was hoarse but full of power.
"Finger off the trigger! Eyes glued to every corner!"
The Rangers' hearts leaped into their throats, their guns pointed warily at every shadow that might be hiding danger.
William looked at Frank, awaiting further clear instructions.
Frank, however, instinctively turned his gaze to Tom, as if Tom were the one giving orders.
Tom was so speechless he wanted to roll his eyes!
They've already got to the doorstep of the mouse's nest, what the hell are they asking now!
He suppressed the churning in his stomach from the stench and waved irritably at the chaotic scene in the valley: "I've brought you the place! The rest, you can search for yourselves! This place is a pigsty!"
Frank realized he had overreacted, coughed awkwardly, and turned to William, giving him an unquestionable, definitive order: "Search! Turn this place upside down!"
His sharp eyes swept over every shack, stone house, and pile of debris. "Don't miss a single stone, every heap of hay, every rat hole! Dig three feet into the ground and dig out those damn weapons!"
"Yes, Mr. Frank!" William replied in a deep voice, then waved to his men.
"Spread out! Search carefully! Quickly!"
The rangers immediately spread out like a large net, guns at the ready, and carefully began to search the stinking bandit den, their boots making a squelching sound as they stepped on the mud and filth.
The air was thick with tension and a nauseating smell.
Tom didn't glance at the busy rangers behind him again, jumped straight onto the carriage, flicked the reins, and drove the carriage toward the canyon exit.
Frank noticed his movement, merely raised an eyebrow slightly, and did not stop him.
He was now so excited about finding the bandits' lair that he didn't care about Tom at all.
He truly hadn't expected that Tom could bring such a big surprise!
In such a short time, how did they accurately pinpoint the Sun Gang's hideout in this vast wilderness?
Was it luck?
Without Tom's amazing searching ability, even with the best of luck, you wouldn't be able to even get close to the mouse hole!
At that moment, Tom had only one thought: to get out of this stinking, filthy, and chaotic place as quickly as possible!
The stench in the air felt like it was stuck to your skin; every second you stayed was torture.
The horse-drawn carriage rolled over the gravel and quickly circled around to the other side of the canyon.
The terrain here is slightly higher, and the wind is stronger, so the air isn't as polluted.
Tomler stopped the carriage and his gaze fell on several large rocks not far away, their edges rounded by the wind and sand.
They surrounded a solitary, gnarled, withered tree, like some kind of natural marker.
"Whoa!"
Tom jumped out of the car, casually patted Mudfish's sturdy neck, and commanded in an unquestionable tone, "Mudfish, watch the car!"
"Purr!"
The loach snorted loudly, shook its head, and its big, wet eyes instantly became exceptionally sharp.
It tilted its head slightly, its gaze like two cold probes, precisely piercing the horses pulling the cart.
Those horses that were still pacing restlessly were suddenly whipped as if by an invisible whip when they were swept by that gaze!
They froze in place, ears pressed against their heads, nostrils flaring, not daring to even breathe, as if nailed to death by some predatory gaze emanating from the depths of their blood!
The loach finally breathed a sigh of satisfaction, its thick tail swishing leisurely, like a silent and reliable guardian, firmly anchored beside the carriage.
Tom ignored what was behind him; his attention was completely drawn to the rocks and the dead tree, and he strode toward them.