1840 Indian Rebirth

Chapter 154 [The Promised Land]

"Boom!" However, the north gate was also bombarded.

No south gate, no north gate, no west gate, east gate...

They originally thought that the east gate seemed to have some hope. Although there were enemies guarding it, at least they didn't have to be bombarded.

"Hey—" But at this moment, accompanied by a neighing of horses, dozens of cavalry galloped over.

Their leader is as tall as a giant, and the horse under his crotch is also like a beast, which is intimidating.

The arrival of sixty cavalry immediately crushed the whites physically and psychologically.

"Bang bang bang—" the dense bullets swept towards the white people who were still resisting.

In John Sartre's philosophy, he himself was unquestionably a hard worker.Despite his enviable wealth and power, he can still get up at seven or eight o'clock every day without anyone calling him.

Unfortunately, today he met someone who is more diligent than him.

To make matters worse, these people seem to be his enemies.

"Boom—" The sudden sound of gunfire in the early morning awakened John Sutter from his sleep.

In addition to the sound of gunfire, there were bursts of screams, some of which he could even identify who they belonged to.

Sartre quickly got up from the bed, a layer of cold sweat oozing from the top of his bald head.

What's going on, is someone attacking Fort Sutter?
Who is the intruder?
Is it American?
"Mr. Sutter, the Indians have captured the tower!" Redding rushed into the room and answered the question in his mind.

"Indians?" Sartre blurted out. "That's impossible. The Indians in California don't even have guns! Could it be that the Indians in the Fort rebelled?"

"They are indeed Indians, outside." Redding panted, panicking, "Maidu of the Mallard Clan."

"Maidu people? Those cowardly builders?" Sutter was still in disbelief, but the gunfire forced him to get dressed quickly.

Leiding: "Yes, the Maidu people... I don't know why, anyway, they suddenly took out weapons from nowhere, and quickly occupied the tower, like a group of sheep suddenly turned into a group of wolves!"

Sutter: "How many of them are there?"

"Twenty people." Redding continued, "But their combat effectiveness is very strong. At least the soldiers guarding the two towers are no match at all, and there seem to be some of them outside the city. Mr. Sartre, we have to hurry escaped!"

"Let's go!" Sartre, who was dressed, picked up a handful of brown basses and rushed out the door.

"Boom!" As soon as he went out, a shell fell from the tower to the north gate of the fortress, blasting the soldiers there and several residents who tried to escape from there to pieces, flying blood and blood.

Surprised and angry, Sartre turned his head to look at the south gate, and found that there were already several broken corpses lying there.

And at the east gate there were about ten Indians, shooting around with revolvers, so that his soldiers hardly dared to show their faces.

At the same time, dozens of Indian cavalry rushed in from the east gate. Each of them carried a rifle on their backs and held revolvers in both hands, with even more fierce firepower.

As these cavalry arrived, the sound of guns gradually turned into bursts of unskilled English and Spanish.

"lay down your weapon!"

"Put your hands up!"

"Surrender without killing!"

As these shouts continued, the gunshots became less and less, and the soldiers and residents of Fort Sutter, who realized that the defeat was doomed, chose to surrender one after another.

More than 100 people gathered in an open space one after another, raising their hands with fear on their faces.

"Mr. Sutter, come here quickly!" A white woman in the crowd beckoned.

Seeing that resistance was hopeless and escape was impossible, Sartre had no choice but to put down his weapon, got into the crowd of surrender, and looked around nervously.

"If they keep their promises, we should not be in danger of our lives." Redding said anxiously.

"Indians keep their promises?" Sartre said, trembling with tension.

He wondered if these Indians would keep their word.

But it was hard for him to believe that the Indians would let him go, after all, he knew very well what he had done to the Indians.

God bless……

At this time, Sartre can only pray to God.

The battle is over.

All those who survived chose to surrender, or in other words, all those who chose to surrender survived.

More than a hundred white people gathered together, and the slaves in the fort were all released, standing together in twos and threes, pointing at them.

Some slaves have a good relationship with slave owners, even better than workers and capitalists.

But this was apparently not the case for many of the slaves at Fort Sutter.

They were almost the slaves who had suffered the cruelest treatment. Many of them were ragged, sallow and emaciated, and some of them were wounded.

So when they were free, they almost wanted to eat these white slave owners alive.

"It was he who killed my mother! I want him to pay for it!" A Miwok man said agitatedly, and was about to throw a stone at the slave owner.

"Stop." The Apache soldier next to him stopped him immediately.

"Why, can't I avenge my mother?"

"Apache law will judge him for his crimes and forbids lynching."

The sight of soldiers restraining not only white men but slaves as well surprised many of them.

"These Indians seem to be different..." a chubby white farmer said with a heavy nasal voice.

"What?" It was Samuel Brannan who spoke. Today's encounter made him annoyed and anxious, and he couldn't help but get angry, "Cordoba, you lisp! Falk squid!"

The white farmer, known as Cordoba, is clearly good-natured: "I mean, I think they're supposed to keep their word and not kill us."

Brannan continued to scold: "Credit? If the liquidated damages are greater than the income, then abide by the credit. If the liquidated damages are less than the income, then abandon the credit. Credit is a piece of shit!"

"Brannan, calm down...that Indian soldier is watching you," Cordova said.

Brannan took a glance and found that there was indeed an Indian soldier looking at him. He couldn't help but take a deep breath to calm down the chaotic emotions.

"Quiet!" A middle-of-the-road voice calmed down the somewhat chaotic scene quickly.

Everyone looked at the person who made the sound, a young Indian riding a black horse with a burly figure that was different from ordinary people.

He wore nine eagle feathers on his head, and his already amazing body shape coupled with the equally amazing war horse allowed him to look down on everyone from a high position.

"Nine eagle feathers..." Some people seemed to think of something.

The horse sentry said slowly: "Now, this fortress belongs to Apache. Everyone will go to the Promised Land according to Apache's law."

"Who is John Sutter?" he asked.

(End of this chapter)