Chapter 25
A similar situation continued in the next compartment.
I showed the sheriff's badge to the second-class passengers and demanded a service fee...
Bang—!
"Argh-!"
"I-I'll pay!"
"I-If you just take care of all the outlaws, any amount..."
As I dealt with the outlaws that appeared, passengers voluntarily offered me money.
Among them were outlaws who tried to take passengers hostage to stop me, but...
"D-don't move! If you move, I'll shoot this guy...! Guhkkk!!"
I was faster at drawing my gun and putting a bullet in their heads than they were at pulling the trigger.
With the cheat trait [Best Gunslinger in the West], these hostage situations were meaningless.
Bang—!
"Aaaaghhh!"
I made my rounds through the second class, swatting away the outlaws boarding the train like flies...
"Emma, is it getting heavy? How much have we collected?"
"...It's hard to estimate easily. I'll calculate it quickly now."
I was literally raking in money.
By the time we reached the last car of second class, the money piled in my hat was almost up to Emma's eye level, which says it all.
"Everyone, I, 'Jett Gray', will take care of all these train robber bastards!"
"Woahhhh!"
"Please remember my name, 'Jett Gray'! Well then!"
So I reminded the second-class passengers of the name “Jett Gray” once more before moving to the next car.
As soon as we were alone in the corridor moving to the next car, Emma asked, "But Boss. Why do you keep impersonating Mr. Jett?"
"...Well, we need someone to take the fall if something goes wrong, don't we?"
"...You trash..."
"I'm joking, joking. It's because Jett's name is written on this sheriff's badge. It would be strange if I introduced myself as Noah but the name on the badge is Jett, right? You have to be thorough with these things."
"...I see."
"Stop with the unnecessary suspicion and let's take care of the remaining outlaws. Emma, how many outlaws have I taken out on the train?"
Despite my sudden question, Emma with her good memory answered without hesitation:
"You took out 12 with sniping on top of the train, and 9 outlaws in second class."
When we checked on top of the train, there were a total of 24 outlaws.
If 12 were sniped on top of the train and 9 killed in second class...
"Only three left then. They must be in third class. Let's hurry."
I cheerfully moved towards third class to quickly finish off the remaining ones.
But before reaching third class, Emma, while organizing the money in the hat, asked, "But Boss. Are you going to take money from the third-class passengers too?"
"Huh? Of course."
I tilted my head and answered, wondering what on earth she was saying, and Emma pushed the money in her arms towards me and said, "I just finished calculating... it's about 262 dollars. Some people paid more than 1 dollar, so it's quite a sum."
"Oh, you calculated quickly. Good job. But why?"
"If it's third class, aren't they poorer people compared to first and second class? We've already collected enough money, so taking money from them is a bit..."
"Oh, come on."
Given the historical context of the 1800s, Emma was an adult of marriageable age, but to me, she was still just a kid.
I explained the reality to Emma, who didn't know the ways of the world:
"Emma, you get paid 10 dollars a month, right?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"The third-class ticket for this direct train to San Francisco costs 50 dollars."
"...!"
In this era, just being able to ride a train meant one wasn’t poor.
In fact, many people heading west still used stagecoaches.
Emma was probably showing this weak side now because of her nature.
"Emma, get a grip. Just because we're pretending to be sheriffs doesn't mean we are sheriffs."
"..."
"We don't have any obligation to protect people for free. We're simply bounty hunters. Remember that."
"...I understand."
I wasn't scolding Emma just because she showed weakness.
In the West, only the most vile, petty, and bad humans could survive.
In fact, this lecture was nothing short of for Emma's future.
"Well then, I'll assume you understood. Get ready to collect money in advance."
"...Yes."
So I opened the door to third class with a slightly dejected Emma.
And as I was about to say my prepared lines...
"Hello, I'm Sheriff..."
"..."
"Hmm...?"
The atmosphere in third class felt strange as soon as we opened the door.
Third class should naturally be the noisiest with the most people, but it was as quiet as a mouse.
"..."
"..."
Tremble.
The third-class passengers, sitting in their seats as if being punished, were trembling.
Amidst this very suspicious situation, what I saw was...
"H-help me...!"
A little girl sitting in the second row, crying and holding dynamite in her hands.
Sizzle.
The dynamite's fuse was about to explode.
The best choice here would be to immediately run back, close the door, and escape the blast, and I actually intended to do so.
But...
"...Jenny James?"
The girl's face...
Looked so much like the girl in my old memories.
Swish.
As soon as I saw that, I lunged forward.
The girl holding the dynamite now couldn't possibly be the one in my memories.
But when I came to my senses, I had already reached right in front of the girl to save her.
— We don't have any obligation to protect people for free. We're simply bounty hunters. Remember that.
Even though I had just lectured Emma that we didn't need to save people for free.
"Give me that!"
"Y-yes!"
I quickly took the dynamite from the girl.
Sizzle—
The drawback of the cheat trait [Best Gunslinger in the West].
It didn't activate unless in combat with people.
No matter how quickly I moved, the dynamite's fuse was already almost burnt out.
Ah.
What I just did was the stupidest thing I've done since boarding this train.
Boom-!
Soon, the dynamite exploded.
***
— Who are you? What are you doing collapsed here alone?
— What? You have nowhere to go? Then come live with us!
— What's your name? Noah? Hmm... I want to call you something else... Ah! How about Kid? Because you're short!
— What? Don't treat you like a kid? Pfft, you're a kid but don't want to be treated like one!
— You want to go home? How do we need to do that to get you home?
— ...Money? We're still young so it'll be hard to save money.... But I'll help you.
— You're good at shooting? What can we do with good shooting skills...?
— Kid. There's nothing we can do in New Mexico. How about going to San Francisco?
— Kid. Our strength alone isn't enough. Let's gather friends. Let's make a clan!
— Kid, actually I...
— I liked you. Maybe from the moment we first met when we were 6...
— We never know when we might die in our line of work. I wanted to tell you how I feel.
— ...What about you?
— Answer me.
Flash.
In my dizzy vision, I barely regained consciousness.
It seemed I had lost consciousness for a few seconds.
With my throat and eyes stinging from the acrid smoke, I first checked on the child in my arms.
"...Hey. Are you okay?"
"...Yes, I'm fine."
Despite her saying she was fine, I looked down to check her condition.
Perhaps because I was holding her in my arms, she didn't seem to have suffered any of the blast's impact.
Just now.
I barely managed to throw the about-to-explode dynamite out the window.
We avoided a direct explosion that way, but...
Boom—!
The blast's impact broke the third-class compartment's wall, and the child and I fell onto the railroad tracks below.
"..."
I looked closely at the child's face.
Seeing her up close, there were quite a few differences in appearance from the girl in my memory.
"...If you're okay, want to get off? I need to get up for a moment too."
"Ah...! Yes..."
I let the child down and quickly checked my own condition.
No pain and no major injuries.
But if there was a problem...
Ringing—
My eardrums seemed a bit shocked, causing a ringing in my ears and...
Dizzy.
My vision was so dizzy I couldn't distinguish things in front of me for a moment.
Considering how dangerous it was due to the dynamite, this level of injury was quite fortunate.
I thought I could recover quickly if I just rested a bit.
But...
Bang—!!
...Of course, the crazy bastard who gave dynamite to a young child didn't give me time to rest.
Swish—
In the slowing time... several super balls, not dodgeballs, came flying.
What he shot wasn't an ordinary rifle but a shotgun.
When the distance was this close, shotgun pellets were very tricky to dodge.
Swish—!
In my dizzy vision, I somehow managed to hold the child and dodge to the side where the bullets weren't flying.
Perhaps finding that hard to believe, a hoarse voice came with a sneer, "...You dodged that? The hell are ya?"
Though my dizziness hadn't subsided yet, through my innately good eyesight, I could see a man standing on the train wall debris.
...Compared to Red Beard who I faced before, this guy was dirty and ugly enough to make you think the former was a handsome gentleman.
If I were in normal condition, I would have deliberately mentioned that point to irritate him, but now my head was too dizzy to feel like doing so.
I put my hand in my clothes to deal with him as quickly as possible.
But...
...Huh.
...Whether I dropped them somewhere from the blast earlier, there were no guns in either of my holsters.
So I had no choice but to move my hand towards the knife in my back pocket.
"Oh fuck. I'm always fighting with just a knife."
Come to think of it, lately, I seem to use knives more than guns.
At this rate, I might have to change my trait name from Best Gunslinger in the West to Best Knife-wielder in the West.
Fucking hell, should I carry like 5 guns around?
I sighed and complained while...
Shing.
I drew my knife.
Click.
As I drew my knife and aimed, the guy with the shotgun pointed his gun at me and growled, "...I'm Jackson, leader of the Jackson Train Robber Gang. Thanks to you, I lost a lot of my brothers."
"Oh, right. Thanks to your brothers, I made a lot of money. I'm grateful for that, but before we fight, can I send this little girl away?"
"..."
Actually, the biggest problem for me now wasn't my dizzy vision or lack of a gun, but the child trembling in my arms.
Holding the child with one arm, I was in a state with various restrictions on my actions.
So when I asked this Jackson guy if I could send the kid away...
Nod.
He unexpectedly nodded.
"Kid, go to your mom."
"Yes...!"
As soon as I saw that, I let go of the kid in my arms.
But...
Bang—!
Swish—!
Of course, that fucking bastard shot as soon as I let go of the kid, and I barely managed to dodge with the kid.
"I expected you'd do that, you son of a bitch."
"Hehe, of course. Did you think I'd just let you go?"
Click, ping.
As the shotgun shell ejected, he aimed at me again.
"...I don't care about money anymore. I'll do whatever it takes to kill you and avenge my men."
"..."
It seemed he was quite angry that I had killed all his men.
This is troublesome.
Dizzy.
My vision was still dizzy and hadn't fully recovered.
I didn't have a gun, only a knife.
Moreover, the opponent's weapon was a shotgun, excellent for close combat, and I had a piece of luggage in my arms.
Should I just throw this kid far away and then fight?
It might have been a good method.
Honestly, I saved her due to old memories, but I wasn’t actually acquainted with this child.
But...
Tremble tremble.
"..."
Seeing the trembling child as I looked down, I couldn't do it.
Ah... She's definitely different, but looking closely, there's something subtly similar to her.
I don't sympathize with NPCs.
I don't think NPC lives are that precious.
Emma, Sheriff Jett Gray, Justice Town's coachman Joe, and even the kid in my arms now.
They're all just data aggregates that will disappear when I leave this world.
NPCs are not human like me.
But looking at the kid in my arms reminded me of her from my old memories...
Can't be helped.
I couldn't throw away the kid in my arms like a sack of rice.
"You want to see your dead men? Okay, I'll help you."
So I reluctantly decided to enter the fight with a sandbag attached.