48 Hours a Day

Chapter 600 Mysterious Oriental Man

The Chinese people of this era generally wore queues, and unlike later generations, were extremely skinny. On top of that, there were also yellow-skinned Native Americans, so it was not surprising that the bailiff failed to recognize Zhang Heng’s ancestry.

But when the bailiff dismounted and approached the stranger, he could tell that Zhang Heng was not an Indian-which was a relief. With all the conflict between the colonists and the natives, he did not want to be standing at the end of the barrel of an Indian’s gun in the no-man’s-land of the Gobi.

The bailiff removed his other holster and hung it on the horse’s back to reassure the Chinese man he meant no harm.

Seeing that the other party had expressed deference, Zhang Heng returned the favor by putting away his revolver.

“Alright. I never thought I’d come across a Chinese in this god-forsaken place.” The bailiff offered Zhang Heng a hand. “I’m Morton.”

Zhang Heng shook the hand and replied, “Zhang Heng. Anything is possible, Mr. Marshal.” “Where are you heading, Mr. Zhang Heng?” the bailiff asked. “Lincoln county,” Zhang Heng replied frankly. “Good place. I was there a month ago. Although there are no suitable lands to grow tobacco or anything like that, there are many grazing pastures. The dark beer at the bar downtown is pretty good as well. You won’t want to miss it,” Morton gushed, eyeing the cornmeal mush in the pot.

“Please, help yourself,” Zhang Heng offered. He had planned to take a detour to replenish it at other towns anyway, and he did not mind giving away this half-bowl of polenta. “Thank you.” Morton took out a metal canteen from the bag hanging next to the saddle-it was probably his lunch box. He scooped two spoonfuls of corn paste, and since it wasn’t too hot, he scarfed it down, licking his lips as he finished it up. The bailiff felt that he should do something in return for having eaten Zhang Heng’s food, so he offered some advice. “With all due respect, Mr. Zhang Heng, it is unwise to travel across the Gobi to Lincoln County alone.”

“Why do you say that?”

“This is not a peaceful place. Murders and robberies are frequent here. I’m currently investigating a group of men whom I have pursued for over 20 days. They claim to be pelt traders, but they probably conduct shady deals behind closed doors. Not long ago, there was a bank robbery in Shining Silver town. A group of masked men killed the bank’s manager and a poor woman who had gone to deposit money there. They hauled forty kilograms of gold and escaped!

The local sheriff and a team of officers went after them, but the sheriff was shot and killed in the fight. Some of the masked men were also injured, but they were probably minor cuts and bruises.” The bailiff paused to catch his breath and continued, “Before the incident, someone saw the group of pelt traders in a town nearby, and they looked very suspicious.

Speaking of which, where did you come from? Did you see any suspicious people along the way?” Zhang Heng was surprised to learn about the background of the people he killed in the bar. The people that the bailiff described were consistent with the group of men he encountered in the bar. At that time, Zhang Heng had an inkling that those men were no straight arrows.

After all, no matter how you’d put it, pelt traders setting up a stronghold in an uninhabited town was something unheard of, and those guys sure didn’t look like nice people either. Nonetheless, Zhang Heng was so preoccupied with getting on with the main mission that he wasted no time prying into the business of those men.

After he had gotten the information he wanted, he terminated the last guy. But it turned out that the excellent habit cost him forty kilograms of gold. Later, when he searched the tavern and did not find any gold, he recalled what Rich said before he died. He thought Zhang Heng had accepted his offer of compromise, but Rich didn’t even get to give up the gold whereabouts in exchange for his own life.

“No. I’ve not seen anyone of that description, Mr. Marshall,” answered Zhang Heng, “but I will keep an eye out. If I come across any of them, I will alert you at once.”

Zhang Heng would never admit to having met those men. Apart from the fact that they were just suspects that hadn’t been actually convicted (and that he had killed them all), the most crucial piece of this puzzle was the whereabouts of 40 kilograms of gold. Even if he told the truth, that he hadn’t so much spotted a single nugget of gold, no one would believe him. What more, he was merely Chinese. Thus, Zhang Heng made a wise move by removing himself from this matter.

He even considered killing the bailiff. After all, the location where they met wasn’t very far from the abandoned little town. It may have taken Zhang Heng two days, but with the bailiff’s horse-riding expertise, it would only take the lawman one day to arrive at the town. Also, since there were not many people around, there was a good chance Zhang Heng would be named a suspect. But he eventually abandoned the idea. While the bailiff may be searching for Rich on his own, once he did find them, he probably wouldn’t have just come barging into the bar on his own.

He would have brought along some of his colleagues with him, and since Zhang Heng did not know where his companions were, and if he would cross paths with them, he could not possibly kill every single person he met. Morton looked at the eyes of the Chinese man before him, and he struggled to find anything unusual or odd-No-in fact, this man was unlike any other Chinese he had met before. Not only was he traveling in the desert without a companion, but he also appeared unfrightened nor was he intimidated by the strange and unfamiliar environment he was in. In fact, he even drew a gun at a law enforcement officer.

To top it off, he seemed well-versed with the West’s legal environment and even spoke standard fluent English as if he had spent some time in Europe. Morton even detected a hint of a London accent. So, there was this Chinese man, sitting on his own; seemingly a man of few words, but not silent to the point of being ignored. “Mysterious oriental man,” Morton thought to himself. Then he chuckled, “However this investigation turns out, I will drop by Lincoln County again sometime later.

If you have any information, you can always go to the sheriff there and they’ll send me a message. Remember, those men are dangerous. If you really do come across them, it’s best you keep your distance.” “Thank you for the heads up, Mr. Marshall, and I wish you success in all your endeavors.” Zhang Heng nodded.

Since another human was a rare sight in the vast desert, the two kept each other company for one night, during which Zhang Heng asked the bailiff for some tips on horse-riding. Morton had witnessed Zhang Heng’s outstanding marksmanship, one that bettered most cowboys, so it came as a surprise to see how Zhang Heng was actually a novice who knew nothing about riding, especially when he was on the horse. Even though the Asian man knew some of the basics, it still seemed as if it was his first time. Yet, this guy had the guts to ride on his own, all the way to Lincoln county. Morton did not know whether to praise Zhang Heng for his bravery or chastise him for stunning injudiciousness.