48 Hours a Day

In other words, this was the first time he chose a horse as a means of transportation. He was looking forward to the scene of riding a horse. From a safety point of view, Zhang Heng decided to do it step by step.

So he picked the shortest and thinnest brown horse with a hair loss problem. Compared to the other horses, it looked relatively docile. When approached, the steed showed no resistance, and as it lowered its head to eat, Zhang Heng walked to its side.

He tried to stroke its back, to which it sneezed and shook its body twice. Seeing that Zhang Heng didn’t intend to leave, it stopped moving around and continued its hay meal. Zhang Heng made up his mind. He knew that wasn’t as good of a horse as the others. No matter how good the horses were, their potential could only be fully realized if they met the right owner. For Zhang Heng, there was no other horse more suitable for him than this tame brown horse.

Riding a slow horse came with its own advantages, including a lower risk of falling. After choosing his mount, Zhang Heng released the other horses, saving them from being roasted along with the bar. Instead of rushing to Lincoln County, he rode his new horse in the town for two laps to relive the feeling of riding a horse.

He still remembered a little bit of what he learned from the park. For example, he was not supposed to put his feet into the stirrups too much. This was to prevent the rider from being dragged like a rag doll when he fell. Zhang Heng also remembered the staff teaching him something about holding the reins right, but he could not remember it anymore. Other than that, he also could not remember the correct way of sitting on a horse as well. There was one thing he could recall, a little bit about starting and slowing down the horse. After spending some time practicing riding the horse, he managed to do it, but he was still not very skilled.

After all, he was just a novice who had to rely on himself to learn how to ride correctly. Thanks to his excellent balance and controllability, he did way better than most beginners. After practicing for a while, Zhang Heng felt good enough to embark on a journey. Putting on a felt hat, grabbed the reins, and set off in the direction of Lincoln County.

In the vast Gobi, a cowboy with two guns was riding his galloping horse under the scorching sun. It looked like a scene from a movie. However, it all depended on how one defined galloping. In fact, the horse was only moving a little faster than walking.

However, there was nothing much to complain about since Zhang Heng did not need to walk across the Gobi on his own legs. At the same time, he did not dare let the horse run free as well. The first reason was that he had to prioritize his safety, and the other was to prevent the horse from dying before it got him to his destination. If that happened, Zhang Heng would have to walk all the way to Lincoln County. A man and a horse had now officially embarked on a voyage to Lincoln County.

When the sun had reached its zenith, Zhang Heng managed to find a slightly cooler spot. He then got off his horse and filled himself up with some water and food. After making a rough estimation, he figured it would take him at least five days to reach Lincoln County at the current speed. There was more than enough food to get to the destination, save the water supply that was only enough to last him and the horse three days. One could survive without drinking water for a day or two.

According to the now-deceased Rich, there were other mining towns along the way to Lincoln County. To get there, however, some detours would have to be made. If he included the detour time, he might just arrive at Lincoln County seven days later.

Fortunately, Zhang Heng was not in a rush.

After lunch, Zhang Heng and his horse carried on the journey again. This time they traveled for another five hours. The scenery in the Gobi was magnificent. However, a little monotony would set in after looking at it for a long time.

Zhang Heng started to feel his muscles becoming sore after sitting on the saddle for so long. The saddle’s friction didn’t make things better, giving him significant discomfort on both of his thighs. And this was only his first day.

It was said that when the railway hadn’t yet been constructed, cowboys would sometimes go on a trek for several months, leading their herds behind them. During this period, they had to look after thousands of cattle, guard themselves against wolves, vipers, and sometimes face ambushes from Native Indian tribes. Even after the railway network’s initial construction was completed, the sale of live cattle still required the cowboys to travel a great distance.

Those who excelled in this job were the real warriors. It was no wonder cowboy culture gripped the hearts and minds of the United States for so many years.

Then, last night, Zhang Heng’s lonesome trip to the west was interrupted. At that time, he had just set up a bonfire and finished cooking. As he finished up the last of his cornmeal, he heard the sound of a horse galloping.

Zhang Heng then quickly took out the Filter Lens. When the mysterious stranger entered the Filter Lens’ effective range, he could clearly make out the uninvited guest’s appearance. It was a middle-aged man with a mustache and appeared to have spent some time in the desert. He looked dusty and dirty, but it did not hide that he was a handsome lad.

However, the first thing Zhang Heng noticed was the badge on his left chest. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a badge that would leave anybody relieved. The Wild West was lawless-one could never trust anyone except for the guns in their hands. Even a handful of sheriffs or bailiffs were working among grey areas. Such individuals were even more dangerous than real gangsters.

Zhang Heng did not say a word. Instead, he drew the Colt revolver from his waist.

The stranger’s reaction was also rapid. He subconsciously took out his gun when he saw Zhang Heng drawing his revolver. However, the distance between the two was about 60 meters, and their surroundings were dark. With the help of the Filter Lens, however, Zhang Heng would shoot at him first.

He waited for him to pull out his gun before pulling the trigger. Considering that his opponent might be a good guy, the first shot only served as a warning. The bullet hit the gun in the man’s hand accurately, forcing him to drop it.

“Oh-oh, relax, friend, I am a marshal, and I have no malicious intent towards you.” The man pulled the rein and stopped his horse from moving forward. Zhang Heng was impressed by his equestrianism.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Marshal?” Zhang Heng was calm when he talked to him. However, he did not put away the gun in his hand.

The bailiff understood why Zhang Heng was so vigilant. He, too, would have drawn his gun before he talked. In this wilderness, one could never be too careful. Zhang Heng did nothing wrong there.

He raised both his hands and to tell Zhang Heng that he had no intention to hurt him. He then brought his horse closer to the bonfire. And he finally had a clear look at Zhang Heng’s appearance. He was taken aback, “Are you an Indian?”