gnovel Chapter 71: Won a Bar
Chapter 71: Won a Bar
"Don't move!"
With a soft swish, Tom's Colt revolver was already in his hand, its dark muzzle pointed steadily at the two cowboys, his eyes as cold as the Siberian wind.
"Today," his voice wasn't loud, but it clearly drowned out the chaos, "he almost killed me!"
The bar owner with the mustache reacted quickly, stepping forward and blocking the two enraged cowboys with his arm, holding them firmly in place.
He stared at the bartender's corpse on the ground, then slowly raised his sinister eyes and looked at Tom.
"The man is already dead," the boss's voice was low and suppressed. "What else do you want?"
Tom didn't budge the gun, but a cold smile curled at the corner of his mouth: "He's your man. He attacked me, you'd better give me an explanation."
The shop owner slowly shook his head, his tone steady: "Young man, I won't get involved in your messy affairs with him. But you shouldn't have come to provoke me today!"
Before he finished speaking, his right hand flashed down, and the gleaming revolver at his waist appeared in his hand. Although the muzzle was not raised, the posture was a naked threat.
Looking at the other person's hand holding the gun, Tom's smile deepened, tinged with amusement and understanding.
He's an expert at this approach!
"Since you refuse to admit it," Tom's voice was firm and resolute, "then let's stick to the old rules! A duel to the death! A gunfight!"
"If you win, I won't bother you; if I win, this bar is mine!"
The bar erupted in chaos, the noise nearly lifting the roof off.
The mustachioed shop owner narrowed his eyes, a cold glint in them: "You really think that just because you've hooked up with the sheriff, my gun won't recognize you?"
Tom smiled slightly, his expression full of provocation: "Want to try?"
The boss understood.
This young man is here to cause trouble for him!
Logically speaking, having run a bar in the town of Bozeman for many years and being deeply entrenched there, he should have been in cahoots with the sheriff long ago.
But some things have changed without us even realizing it!
"Young man," the boss's voice carried a barely perceptible chill, "do you really think that by associating with the sheriff, you can bring down the Covington family?"
The information in those words stirred something within Tom.
"Enough with the nonsense!" Tom remained unmoved and pressed directly, "A duel? Or are you backing down?"
"...Fine!" the boss squeezed out through gritted teeth, "I accept the challenge!"
The two walked out of the bar one after the other.
On a September night in Bozeman, the moonlight was cold, and a chill had already quietly arrived.
A flood of people poured out of the bar, surrounding them in the middle of the road.
The once desolate town was instantly ignited, becoming incredibly noisy.
The dirt road, only a few dozen meters wide, became a battleground for life and death.
The two stood facing each other, the air seemingly frozen.
Tom remained expressionless; time seemed to stand still in his eyes.
The boss with the mustache slowly placed his right hand on the gun handle at his waist.
Tom's hands, however, clenched and unclenched repeatedly at his sides, as if accumulating some kind of explosive power.
The surrounding chatter, commotion, and even gasps of breath could not penetrate the invisible, suffocating aura surrounding the two of them.
Dead!
The agonizing silence continued, and the onlookers' patience was wearing thin.
boom!
A deafening gunshot ripped through the night sky!
A blur flashed before everyone's eyes!
Suddenly, a revolver appeared in Tom's hand, with smoke billowing from its muzzle!
Look at the other side!
The bar owner's hand, adorned with a mustache, had just touched the gun handle, intending to draw it!
The onlookers' eyes swept over him like searchlights, eagerly searching for bullet holes.
However, the result left them speechless.
His entire body, from head to toe, was completely unharmed, without a trace of blood!
Just when everyone thought Tom had simply misfired due to nervousness, a sharp scream shattered the silence:
"His holster! Look at his holster!"
Swish!
All eyes instantly focused on the holster on the bar owner's waist.
A charred, brand-new bullet hole starkly pierced through the tough leather!
A wisp of blue smoke was still rising from the edge of the bullet hole.
"My God! The bullet grazed his hand!" A sharp-eyed and daring person leaned closer for a closer look and gasped in shock.
"I won!"
Tom's voice carried the arrogance of a victor, his smug face gleaming in the moonlight. "This bar is mine!"
His arrogant and boastful attitude instantly ignited the anger of the surrounding cowboys.
"What?" Tom's eyes suddenly turned cold, like a venomous snake eyeing its prey. "Trying to renege on your debt?"
Before he finished speaking, the skinny guy Zack behind him had already quietly placed his fingers on the handle of the gun at his waist, his eyes scanning the entire room with a sinister look.
The bar owner's cowboys glared angrily, their hands reaching for their weapons, instantly creating a tense atmosphere!
A bloody fire was about to break out!
"I lost."
The man with the mustache spoke with an unusually calm voice, like an ice cube thrown into boiling oil.
He raised his hand, making a gesture to suppress his agitation, and looked at Tom with a deep gaze: "The bar is yours."
Tom's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
This result came too quickly!
According to his envisioned script, bullets should have been flying everywhere and blood staining the streets, instead of such a clean surrender.
"Alright," Tom suppressed his doubts, his voice regaining its cold hardness, "I accept it!"
"Give me some time," the bar owner said calmly, as if discussing something trivial. "I'm moving my personal belongings out."
Tom slowly shook his head.
This simple action caused the atmosphere, which had just eased slightly, to plummet back to freezing point, as if the air itself had solidified.
"The bar is mine," Tom said, abruptly changing the subject and offering a condition that caught everyone off guard, "but you'll still be in charge of running it. You'll get 40% of the monthly profits. How about it?"
These words caused an uproar in the room!
Not only were the townspeople and cowboys who were watching in astonishment, but even the seasoned bar owner with the mustache had a hint of undisguised shock in his eyes.
He actually cut off 40% of the prize he had already secured and gave it away? This young man doesn't play by the rules!
The bar owner really hadn't decided where to go.
This bar is the culmination of half his life's work; it has long been a part of his life.
"Aren't you going to buy me a drink?" Tom broke the silence, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.
The bar owner gave him a deep look, his gaze complex and unreadable.
A moment later, he turned to the side and made a "please" gesture.
The three returned to the bar, which reeked of blood.
The bar owner went straight to the bar, took a bottle of fine whiskey, and poured three glasses.
He pushed two of the glasses toward Tom and Zack.
Then, under the watchful eyes of Tom and Zack, he tilted his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing, and took a large gulp.
The strong liquor burned his throat, but also suppressed his turbulent emotions.
"Heh," the bar owner put down his glass and let out a short, ambiguous laugh, his gaze towards Tom carrying a hint of scrutiny, and a... indescribable meaning.
"Alright. I can rest assured that the bar is in your hands... managing it." Tom smiled slightly.
rest assured?
The bar owner sneered inwardly.
This bar was his kingdom, and he ran it like a fortress!
This young man not only seized his business, but also put on an act of bestowing favors... His skin is truly as thick as a city wall!