The convoy slowly made its way through the snow-capped mountains, the snow on the road gradually diminishing. Finally, at noon the next day, they were completely clear of the mountains.

  The snow on the ground had completely disappeared, replaced by a long-awaited emerald green, brimming with life.

  The weather grew warmer, and as they crossed the last ridge, the sun finally shone fully and generously upon them.

  Everyone eagerly shed their heavy winter coats, changing into lighter clothes. After slogging through the snow for so long, they could finally breathe a sigh of relief, which lifted their spirits considerably.

  Dutch summoned Micah, who had been withdrawn ever since they got into the snow, and instructed him to scout ahead with Lenny.

  Micah was reluctant, not because he didn't want to scout. After enduring so much hardship in the mountains, he was itching to cut loose.

  But in his current state, missing half his teeth and struggling to eat, coupled with having to babysit someone, it didn’t sit well with him.

  Dutch didn't care about any of that; he just wanted someone to keep an eye on him, and Lenny was reliable. Otherwise, who knew what kind of trouble that crazy guy would stir up.

  Lenny didn't want to go with Micah either, saying he'd rather go alone!

  But under Dutch's insistence, the two reluctantly set off.

  Stephen, astride his white horse, kept close to the convoy, constantly having to rein in his spirited mount, lest it take him God knows where.

  *Clunk*

  As they crossed a small stream, a wheel came off Hosea and Arthur's wagon.

  Charles rode up from behind to investigate: "What happened?"

  "Nothing, just a wheel came off," Arthur said with a hint of impatience.

  "We need to fix this quickly," Hosea said, stepping down to inspect the wheel, directing Charles to lend a hand.

  Stephen dismounted and rushed to help, urging Hosea to stand aside as he and Charles lifted the wagon.

  Hosea was already in his fifties; if he strained himself too much, his back would probably give out.

  Arthur struggled to reattach the wheel, hammering it firmly into place.

  "Didn't know you had the strength to lift a wagon," Arthur quipped, never missing an opportunity to tease. He chuckled at the panting Hosea.

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  "Haha, guess I'm not that old after all, or at least not completely," Hosea replied, unperturbed, as he climbed back into the wagon.

  "Who's there?" Stephen, who was packing things away, sensed something amiss and abruptly looked behind him.

  On a small hillside behind them, several mysterious figures stood silhouetted.

  Everyone froze, turning to look in the direction Stephen was looking, Arthur’s hand already on his holster.

  On a small slope not far above them, three horses stood, and three people, likely Native Americans, were watching them.

  "It should be fine; if they wanted to attack, they wouldn't let us see them," Charles said calmly.

  Indeed, if these Native Americans intended to attack, they wouldn't simply stand there watching. Put another way, they wouldn't have let themselves be seen before attacking.

  After packing up, the others had already moved on. Arthur gave the poor packhorse a couple of sharp whacks, and they hurried to catch up.

  "We've treated these poor folks terribly," Hosea said with lingering regret.

  Over the years, the Americans had stopped at nothing in their wars against the Native Americans. The horrifying methods they employed were chilling to hear about.

  "The place we're going is called the Heartlands. The land is good for both farming and grazing; it used to be all their land. But now they've lost it all, robbed clean," Hosea continued.

  "Most of them have either been killed or driven onto reservations, barren places where nothing grows."

  Charles remained silent, but Arthur chimed in insensitively, "Charles, what about your tribe?"

  Charles pondered for a moment, then slowly said, "I'm not even sure if I have a tribe; I don't remember much. My father was a person of color; he said he lived with our people for a while, along with several other free Black people."

  "But later, their land was taken, and we started wandering. I was young then, so I spent my whole life hiding. A few years later, my mother was taken by some soldiers, and my father turned to alcohol. I was probably thirteen when I was left to fend for myself."

  Stephen glanced at the man, a mixed-race of black and Native American decent. A century later, this would be seen as a good thing, but in this time it would be a curse.

  "We found Arthur when he was about that age. He was fearless and quick to learn," Hosea said with a hint of pride, like an old man bragging about his son.

  "I certainly didn't learn as fast as Mr. Marston," Arthur said sarcastically.

  Charles asked in surprise, "Is there something between you and Marston? Why are you always taking jabs at him?"

  Stephen was curious as well; he had long sensed that something was off between Arthur and John. "I can feel there is friction between you two, but unlike how you feel about Micah, this feels different."

  Arthur said helplessly, "That's a long story. Maybe Hosea can tell you?"

  Once opened, the old man couldn't stop.

  The three listened as Hosea rambled on about the past, including the feud between Arthur and John.

  As they neared their destination, Hosea pointed northwest and said, "Over there is the livestock town I was talking about, Valentine. Cowboys, outlaws, pretty girls—in short, a place for people like us."

  "I've been there before, to track down a fugitive. I was deeply impressed by the streets paved with cow dung and horse manure," Stephen added. "In short, avoid walking in that godforsaken place if you can; it's disgusting."

  Hearing Stephen and Hosea's descriptions, Arthur and Charles were filled with curiosity about the mysterious town and were eager to see it for themselves.

  After walking further, the surrounding forest grew thicker. Javier was waiting for them ahead.

  "Hey, brothers, over here! Slow down, let me jump on," Javier called from the edge of the woods, waving to them. "Just follow the wagon tracks."

  Javier climbed onto the wagon and said to everyone, "This is a great place. I think you'll all love it."