He searched through all ten bodies one by one but found no clues.
"Store the weapons and have them dragged out to the valley and dumped," Henry instructed Luke before leaving the police station.
With another $1,000 in bounty income, Henry was in a good mood as he went with Pete to the Phoenix Bar for dinner.
Luke and McDee obediently complied, leaving Lawrence on duty.
Now in their eyes, Henry was almost like a god.
Following such a powerful sheriff meant a bright future and greatly increased safety.
Pete was four years older than Henry and had just gotten married recently.
The moment the two pushed through the narrow double swinging doors into the tavern, the entire place seemed to hit pause.
A second later, even louder commotion erupted.
People inside enthusiastically greeted Henry.
"Henry, your shooting stance yesterday was so cool!"
"Henry, over here, we have excellent whiskey."
"Henry, I heard you just took out 10 more assassins?"
Henry greeted them all one by one. Most were acquaintances - the original Henry had treated this place like a cafeteria.
All officers got 40% off meals and 30% off drinks here.
The bar owner Drummond was of Scottish descent, so the whiskey was authentic.
Plus this was a gold mining town where most residents could afford good liquor, so there was relatively little counterfeit alcohol.
Getting caught selling fake liquor in Fresco Town meant being driven out.
The tavern was three stories high.
The first floor was about 300 square meters with over fifty sets of wooden tables and chairs scattered around.
One corner had a billiards table.
Another corner had a standard boxing ring - 5.49 meters (18 feet) long and 4.88 meters (16 feet) wide.
The second floor had guest rooms and card rooms.
The third floor was guest rooms.
Of course, you could also play cards in the first-floor hall.
All four bars in town also operated as restaurants and inns.
Unless they were bar girls or women of ill repute, respectable women wouldn't appear in bars.
But the bar girls employed by these western saloons rarely "went upstairs" - except in the lowest-class establishments.
They just sang and danced with lonely male customers, flirted at most.
The purpose was to get them to recommend more people to come, drink more, or spend more money playing cards, while having a few drinks themselves.
Bar girls got commissions on drinks consumed at their tables.
Of course, if they hit it off, anything was possible.
But free was almost never an option.
Henry and Pete found a window seat.
Theresa, a blonde waitress with a voluptuous figure but plain face, came over and first gave Henry a big wink, saying, "Handsome Sheriff Henry, what will you have today?"
"Two venison steaks, two beef steaks, three pounds of bread, and two portions of whatever vegetables you have," Henry expertly rattled off his order.
Theresa quickly wrote down the items and asked, "What to drink?"
"Two whiskeys. Pete, your turn to order. I'm treating," Henry said.
"That's enough already," Pete shrugged.
Henry smiled and said, "What I just ordered was all for myself."
"What?" Pete's eyes widened like lanterns.
Theresa also stared in surprise with her watery eyes.
The steaks here weighed a full pound each, about 0.91 pounds.
Since his body upgraded to LV3, Henry found his appetite had more than doubled.
Four pounds of meat per meal was 3.64 pounds of meat, plus 2.73 pounds of bread!
The bit of steak at Linda's place at noon hadn't been nearly enough. Henry had taken lots of dried provisions from his space just to get half full.
Theresa smiled seductively and said coquettishly, "A man who can eat can perform! No wonder Henry is so capable."
Henry spread both hands and said confidently, "Of course I am."
Unfortunately, Theresa was rather plain-looking, not a suitable target for trying out his new talent, so he couldn't be bothered to flirt.
Pete said, "I'll have one steak, one glass of milk, one pound of bread, and one bourbon."
Theresa quickly finished taking the order and walked away swaying her sexy big hips gracefully.
Pete couldn't help staring at that area for a few glances.
"Pete, you'd better think about how to butter me up, or Mary will find out what you're doing now," Henry laughed.
Pete finally snapped back to reality, his face flushing red.
"You wouldn't. By the way, how did your marksmanship become so good?"
Seeing him forcibly change the subject, Henry didn't press the matter and said, "I just didn't want to show off before. Yesterday I had no choice - over forty people ambushed us. Unfortunately Bryan was too far from me and I couldn't save him in time."
Pete's eyes immediately welled up with tears, unable to speak.
Bryan had indeed been good to him. Even his wife Mary was someone Bryan had personally arranged a match for with a farm owner.
"Bryan personally killed nearly thirty enemies. You don't need to grieve too much for him. The West is like this - you need to practice your marksmanship to protect your wife and future children."
"Yes, I will," Pete nodded.
"Slap!" A crisp slapping sound suddenly came from upstairs.
"You damn whore, you dared to secretly tip off my hand?" a crude voice rang out.
"I didn't," a sobbing female voice tried to deny.
"Slap!" Another loud slap.
"Damn whore, believe it or not I'll shoot you dead!" the man persisted.
Everyone downstairs turned to look toward the stairs.
Most bar girls received good treatment, since in this place with such a gender imbalance, every woman could earn men's respect.
The bar owners and girls also required this.
If someone insulted girls in the bar, they might pay the price of being expelled or even killed.
"Get downstairs, you too. I want to see what the bar owner has to say," the cursing voice indicated the speaker was coming downstairs.
Soon, a white man at least six feet three inches tall with light brown shoulder-length hair dragged a bar girl with a swollen face down the stairs by her arm, appearing before everyone.
Behind them followed a thin, tall middle-aged white cowboy with a gloomy face and sharp features.
"Where's the boss?" the white giant shouted.
Danger!
'In the blink of an eye the white giant will draw his gun and shoot at me, so will sharp-face! Two experts!'
Henry instantly drew both Colt 1878s from his waist and immediately raised his arms to shoot at both men.
Being seated caused the wrong height, with tables and chairs obstructing in front, so Henry's shooting was relatively much slower this time - maybe 0.1 seconds, but still fast enough.
"Bang bang!"
0.3 seconds was the time for an ordinary person to blink, but unfortunately the two gunfighters would never have the ability to seize this opportunity.
They had just drawn their pistols from their holsters when both took bullets to the forehead and collapsed.
The gunshot echoes hadn't even faded yet.
'Four more!'
Henry held guns in both hands, simultaneously spitting fire to the left and right.
"Bang bang bang bang!"
Four men at two dining tables eight or nine meters apart on either side fell backward, the pistols in their hands scattering to the ground.
Warning lifted.