novelSusiti Chapter 63 The American Party and the Democratic Party: Making Concessions
Chapter 63 The American Party and the Democratic Party: Making Concessions
Chapter 63 The American Party and the Democratic Party: Making Concessions
More than four hundred rifles fired simultaneously.
Gunshots rang out like thunder, exploding through the mountains.
Bullets rained down from the forests on both sides, and hundreds of militiamen in the very center of the column fell from their horses almost simultaneously, without even a sound.
The horses were startled, neighing and running wildly, knocking more people to the ground.
The formation, which had been somewhat orderly, collapsed instantly.
"Ambush! Everyone take cover immediately! Company commanders, gather your men and prepare to retaliate!"
Sherman, at the very front of the column, roared and slid off his horse like an eel, leading the men nearby to hide behind a boulder and opening fire on the hillsides on both sides.
But his words failed to organize the panicked militia.
The group stretched out like a long dragon on the mountain road, with neither end able to keep up with the others.
The firing positions on both sides were elevated, and every shot meant someone was injured or even killed.
The militiamen frantically searched for cover; some hid behind horse carcasses, others lay prone behind roadside stones, and many more were shot while running around.
"No, the forests are too dense to hit the enemy, and the company commanders can't organize a counterattack under these conditions."
Sherman took a deep breath and commanded, "Clark, I'll lead the men to suppress the flanks. You take your men and charge into the woods on both sides, get up there!"
"I don't expect you to kill many attackers, but at least you can't let them shoot so recklessly."
"yes!"
Clark, who was also hiding behind a rock not far away, gritted his teeth, called to the dozens of militiamen nearby, and charged up the hillside with a howl.
Meanwhile, Sherman led a large number of militiamen in firing repeatedly, creating an opportunity for Clark and his men who were charging forward.
But the slope was steep, the trees were dense, and the attackers in the forest were equally fearless, firing downhill despite the hail of bullets.
Clark and his group had barely gotten far when they were suppressed by a hail of bullets and fled back in a panic, leaving behind more than a dozen corpses.
Sherman's heart sank to the bottom.
They were caught off guard and outmaneuvered by the terrain, leaving them with no chance to fight back.
"Mr. Sherman, shall we retreat?"
Clark, panting heavily, ran back and said, "The enemy's firepower is even stronger than ours. We definitely can't rescue our comrades in the pass. If we don't leave now, we'll all be done for."
Sherman was silent for a moment, then finally squeezed out a single word through gritted teeth: "Withdraw!"
More than a hundred militiamen who had been stationed at the exit began to retreat, or rather, to flee in panic.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the pass, the militiamen who had not yet entered the pass or had just entered it also seemed to understand each other and fled back the way they had come.
Only a few hundred militiamen remained trapped in the valley, suffering heavy casualties under the crossfire from both sides.
Fifteen minutes later, there were no survivors left in the valley; the ground was littered with corpses.
"More than three hundred have escaped, Chief, should we chase them?" Black Earth asked, leaning closer.
"Chase them down and beat them while they're down!"
Chongyue surveyed the corpses below and said, "We'll split into two groups. We'll chase them wherever they run, and wipe out any villages, towns, and farms we encounter along the way."
"Alright."
Hei Tu grinned and was about to muster his men to give chase when he suddenly saw Bai Yun carrying an old man whose hands and feet were tied up.
"What's this in your hand?"
Bai Yun threw the old man to the ground and sneered, "The leader of the Kavila people, it's lucky that he wasn't killed by the hail of bullets just now."
Chongyue glanced at the old man on the ground and asked in Kavila, "Do you regret it?"
Upon hearing this, Antonio looked up, his lifeless eyes meeting Chongyue's, revealing a hint of resentment.
"Why? The people of Kavila just want to live peacefully, why drag us into this mess?"
Chongyue chuckled lightly: "You resent me? It was the white people who killed you, yet you hate us who saved the Native American tribes."
"Save them? The Kavila tribe perished because of you! Most of their people are dead! And you call that saving them?"
Antonio glared at Chongyue and roared, "If it weren't for your betrayal, why would the white people be angry with us? It was you! You're the one who sent us into this mess!"
Chongyue lost interest in chatting with him anymore.
He's just a short-sighted and unrepentant Native American traitor; there's no need to waste words on him.
He raised his revolver and pressed it against Antonio's forehead.
A gunshot rang out.
Antonio's head snapped back, blood gushing from the back of his head and seeping into the soil beneath him.
"Leave some people to clean up the battlefield, and the rest will split into two teams to pursue the fleeing militia."
"yes!"
Sacramento, State Capitol.
The weather was gloomy, and the rain outside seemed endless.
The fire in the fireplace was burning brightly, and the crackling sound of burning wood echoed through the room from time to time.
"Is the news true?" Bigler sat on the sofa, rubbing his temples.
"It's confirmed, Stockton in San Joaquin County is gone."
Staff officer Trenton Gan said slowly, "The fire destroyed the entire city. The death toll is still being tallied, but the number is estimated to be over four hundred."
"The county sheriff sent a request for immediate funding to recruit at least three hundred militiamen. He also needs weapons, ammunition, and for the state to send more militiamen."
"My God."
Bigler let out a long sigh. He had just received the good news that the Kavila people had been wiped out when the bad news that Stockton had been burned came crashing down on him.
"Could we send the militia regiment that Sherman led?"
Gan's expression was somewhat subtle: "This is the next piece of bad news, Governor."
"On their way to support Stockton, Mr. Sherman's militia was ambushed by Indian mobs, losing half of its men."
"The worse news is that the mob of Native Americans doesn't seem to want to let them go and keeps chasing them, so ranches, farms and settlements along the way have been greatly damaged."
Another aide gave a wry smile: "Then we can only pray to God that Washington will send regular troops as soon as they receive the news."
No one answered him, because distant water cannot quench immediate thirst.
California is a full three thousand miles from Washington, separated by mountains, deserts, and most of the continent.
Even if messengers have already been sent, it will be a very long time before the federal government receives the message, finishes its discussions, and then sends out troops.
Gan flipped through the documents in his hand and asked, "Governor, a new session of the legislature is scheduled for tomorrow. Should we include a proposal to increase funding in the bill?"
"Let's add it, though it might not even pass."
Bigler stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the heavy rain outside.
"Tomorrow's parliament is going to have another big fight with the American Party."
The next morning.
Inside the House of Representatives chamber.
Each member of parliament had a new bill placed in front of them.
Southern California Emergency Militia Appropriations Act.
The bill requests the state government to allocate $30,000 to recruit militia, purchase weapons, and defend cities in Southern California that are under attack by Native Americans.
The U.S. party members in the House of Representatives exchanged glances and made the same gesture.
They threw the bill in front of them on the ground and stomped on it twice.
A member of the Democratic Party stood up and angrily retorted, "What are you doing? Americans in Southern California are suffering, and this is how you, as legislators, act? Do you have any respect for your constituents?"
Representatives from the American Party retorted, "We're just responding to your previous actions. You ignored the rising number of homicides in Northern California and suppressed investigative bills. Why can't we trample your bills underfoot?"
The two parties started arguing and even shoving each other again, and no matter how much the speaker smashed his gavel and shouted himself hoarse, he couldn't stop them.
Meanwhile, in another room.
American Party leader John Neely Jensen sat on a sofa, a lit cigar between his fingers, puffing out smoke as he waited for someone to arrive.
Soon, Governor John Bigler walked in and sat down on the sofa opposite Jason.
"Mr. Bigler, this must be the first time we've met privately in months, right?"
Jason put down his cigar and said slowly, "What? You want to admit defeat?"
Bigler sneered, "Admit defeat? If anyone should admit defeat, it should be you. So many murders have happened in Northern California lately, and they've all been from wealthy families. How can you sit still?"
"That's no need for you to worry about, Governor. You should be thinking about how to resolve the escalating Native American riots in Southern California!"
The two almost got into an argument because they couldn't agree on anything.
But in the end, the two suppressed their anger and started talking.
"Let's make a deal, Jason."
Bigler said slowly, "Let's call a truce for now and deal with the internal affairs of California first. Let's stop blocking each other's proposals."
"If this continues, it will not benefit either party or either of us."
Jason took a puff of his cigar, his expression unchanged: "Now you know you regret it? When you sent people to kill our party's members of parliament and officials, why didn't you think of this day?"
Bigler frowned: "We have made it clear many times that the passing of Mr. Weber and the others was a regrettable accident. No one expected that the remnants of the Vigilance Committee would attack the speech venue."
As for Mr. Brannan, his passing had absolutely nothing to do with us.
Jason narrowed his eyes, remaining noncommittal.
The first law of politics: Whoever benefits has the strongest motivation.
The Democrats benefit the most from everything. You, Bigler, say you don't know or understand? You're just trying to fool me!
The room door was very soundproof, but faint noises still managed to get through the cracks.
Jason exhaled a puff of smoke and said slowly, "Judging from this noise, Mr. Bigler, it seems your proposal is going to fall through this time."
Bigler remained silent, his face grim.
"Your appropriations bill," he said, "is $30,000 for recruiting militia to defend Southern California. I can persuade my colleagues in the party to pass it."
Bigler paused for a moment.
"However," Jason held up two fingers, "there are two conditions."
"explain."
"First, the investigation into the murder in Northern California can no longer be delayed; an investigation team composed of elite personnel from across the state must be assembled."
But this group must be led by our American Party; the state government must not interfere.
Bigler frowned.
"Secondly, doesn't Southern California need militia? We in Northern California need to send people too."
Jason continued, "We'll provide the manpower, you provide the funding. The militia recruited from the counties of Northern California will be commanded by people from Northern California itself."
Bigler's eyes changed.
"Are you trying to interfere in Southern California?"
"This is cooperation."
Jason flicked his cigar against the ashtray. "You want a truce? A truce requires checks and balances. You're keeping things in Southern California to yourself; why should I believe you won't continue causing trouble in Northern California?"
The room fell silent.
The firewood crackled in the fireplace, casting flickering light on their faces.
After a long silence, Bigler spoke: "You can lead the investigation team, but there must be people from the state government overseeing it."
Otherwise, if you use your position for personal revenge and try to pin the case on us, I won't agree to it.
Jason squinted and weighed his options for a few seconds.
"Sure. But the person overseeing it can't be one of your Democrats."
"Then it's the Minister of Justice. He's a Whig Party member and has always been neutral."
"make a deal."
"Secondly, Northern California can field its own militia, but command must be unified."
Bigler continued, "Your men can bring their own, but the overall operation must follow the orders of Southern California Command. Otherwise, if two groups fight their own battles, how can the war be fought?"
Jason remained silent for a moment.
"Unified command is fine," he said, "but we must have our own people in the command center. A deputy commander, or a chief of staff, someone with a voice."
Bigler gritted his teeth.
"----Can."
The two who had reached a deal left the room.
The staff waiting outside quickly relayed the message to members of both parties.
Under the guise of emergency, the Northern California Politics Investigation Act and the California Militia Mobilization Act were reintroduced.
This time, members of both parties gritted their teeth and held their noses as the opposing bill passed.
The following day, an emergency meeting of the state Senate was convened, and two bills were introduced and passed.
After Governor Bigler signed it, the bill officially took effect.
The investigation team was established with remarkable speed on the day the bill officially took effect.
The American party has clearly wanted to do this for a long time.
The group leader was Joseph Howard, a senior member of the U.S. Congress, in his fifties, with gray hair, a hooked nose, and sharp eyes.
The team consisted of two American Party prosecutors, a retired nonpartisan judge, three senior sheriffs drawn from various counties, and, as agreed, a supervisor sent by the state government.
Howard took a stack of documents from the drawer and placed them on the table.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the case file for the murders that have occurred in Northern California these past few days. The victims are all prominent figures from various counties, including officials, ranchers, and farmers. There are a total of eighty-six cases, with hundreds of deaths!"
He paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone.
"This is not a coincidence. This is an organized and premeditated political assassination."
"Starting today, we will check them one by one."
"And the first case we need to investigate is the case of Mr. Samuel Brannan in Calistoga."