Frisco was a distinctly styled Victorian gold mining town with over 300 wooden two-story buildings, basically arranged in two neat rows with a main street about 2 miles long running through the entire town, and a total population approaching 2,000.
This population far exceeded the scale of typical western towns of 50-200 people.
Wherever there were gold mines, gold prospectors would swarm there.
The town had two towers over eight meters high at the front and back entrances, each with a bronze bell containing a bell hammer—to ring the bronze bell as an alarm when enemies were spotted.
The town's police station was over 300 meters from the front entrance.
Sheriffs and deputy sheriffs of American western towns were sworn law enforcement officers who enforced county laws, had the authority to arrest suspects and bring them before judges, and could also issue arrest warrants and subpoenas.
These sheriffs and deputy sheriffs were also called marshals, not selected but elected by local residents, belonging to local police and essentially civil servants.
They were paid by the county court, under county court jurisdiction, and had no direct relationship with state police or federal marshals, but rather a cooperative relationship.
There was another type of police called federal marshals who specialized in enforcing federal law, equivalent to 21st-century FBI and other federal law enforcement agencies, but when local town police were insufficient, they sometimes also served as sheriffs of local towns.
Frisco town's federal marshal was the Scottish Duncan Sinclair, who also worked at the police station.
Because western towns often had insufficient police force, when there were many criminals, marshals would summon some male residents of the town, give each a badge, and have them temporarily serve as police during riot suppression.
After the mission ended, the sheriff would collect the badges, and these people's status would return to civilians.
So sheriffs and deputy sheriffs of western towns in this era were mostly veterans with superior skills.
Because those without sufficient skills would easily die in the line of duty.
Among the 25 police officers pursuing the gang this time were Sheriff Bryan and 4 deputy sheriffs, with the other 20 people including Henry all being temporary officers.
This near-total annihilation was an extremely heavy blow to the entire town, with at least twenty families losing their pillars.
Henry drove eleven horses like a whirlwind to the stable next to the police station, the dense sound of hooves alerting the officers in the station.
A balding, thin, tall white man in his forties with an aquiline nose—Deputy Sheriff Ronald McKinley—came out with 3 officers.
"Henry, what happened to Sheriff Bryan?" Ronald asked in a deep voice.
Henry answered: "We chased 8 gang members to Coyote Hill where we encountered an ambush by another 36 bandits. Sheriff Bryan and the other officers all died in the line of duty, but all 44 bandits were also eliminated."
A strange light flashed in Ronald's eyes, and just as he was about to say something, an aged but powerful voice came from behind him: "Little Henry, do you know who these bandits were?"
Accompanying the voice, a white-haired, white-bearded old man in his sixties came out of the police station with three guards, passed Ronald, and stood about 2 meters to Henry's side.
This was the town mayor, William Sinclair.
Sheriff Bryan was recruited by him.
At the same time, the Sinclair family was also the largest of the town's three major families.
The other two were the McKinley family and the Palermo family.
Each of these three families had thirty to fifty guard gunmen.
The Sinclair family had arrived earliest and was the strongest.
But now with Sheriff Bryan and the 4 deputy sheriffs swept away from the police station, a considerable portion of the Sinclair family's wings had been clipped.
With this ebb and flow, it was hard to say what would happen.
"That bandit chief looked about thirty years old, with dark brown hair, a full beard, and a flame tattoo on the inside of his right wrist," Henry said.
William nodded and said: "Then he should be Michael Doolin, an Irish executioner who organized the Doolin Gang that committed multiple major crimes and has warrants in multiple states."
Henry said: "Michael's body is at the hills. Besides the eleven horses I brought back, there are also 20 police horses and 31 gang horses, so we need to make another trip to bring back the other officers' and Michael's bodies along with those horses."
At this time, four officers in their twenties poured out of the police station.
Henry immediately said: "Pete, you four came out just in time. Help me lead these 10 horses into the stable."
The thin and lanky Pete rushed to the horse carrying Sheriff Bryan's body, his blue eyes instantly filling with tears.
He was Sheriff Bryan's nephew and Henry's only good friend at the police station.
"What happened? Uncle Bryan was so powerful, how could this happen?" Pete asked in disbelief, his voice breaking.
"Right! Henry, you need to explain first why even a gunman as powerful as Sheriff Bryan couldn't escape death, yet you're completely unharmed?" Deputy Sheriff Ronald said coldly.
Ronald, as the McKinley family's plant in the police station, had always been firmly suppressed by Sheriff Bryan.
As Sheriff Bryan's confidant, Henry never paid attention to Ronald's thoughts and orders.
Henry now even suspected that Ronald was involved in this ambush incident against Bryan.
Henry smiled faintly and said: "That's naturally because I killed all the remaining bandits."
Ronald was momentarily speechless at Henry's brazen tone.
He was very clear about Sheriff Bryan's abilities—his rifle marksmanship was definitely among the top of all gunmen he had seen.
This was the crystallization of talent and sweat. How could a young man who had just turned 20 possibly have such perfect skills?
Moreover, three months ago Ronald had witnessed Henry's marksmanship, which could only be described as barely adequate.
Ronald kept a straight face and said unhurriedly: "Your explanation is unreasonable. I have reason to suspect you collaborated with the bandits from within, leading to the death of all other police personnel."
Henry said disdainfully: "If you can't produce evidence to accuse me, your rash slander seriously tarnishes my reputation. I formally challenge you to a duel!"
Ronald could hardly believe his ears.
Damn! Didn't this kid know his own capabilities?
"Hmph! Officer Ronald's suspicions are reasonable, and besides, what qualifications do you have to challenge him to a duel? I'll teach you a lesson in his place," said James, who had a shrewd look, interjecting.
He was one of Ronald's three lackeys, tall in stature, accurate in marksmanship, and also of Irish descent.
Mayor William said heavily: "Gentlemen, the situation is unclear now, we're short on fighting men, don't argue, leave everything for later discussion."
Henry's grandfather had been the town's sheriff during his lifetime and had a close friendship with William.
William obviously didn't believe Henry's account either, but he trusted Henry and just thought there were hidden circumstances, so he spoke up to interrupt Henry's duel proposal to prevent the impulsive Henry from meeting his death.
Just at this moment, the alarm bell at the high tower at the town's front entrance rang, and sharp screams carried from far away: "Enemy attack! Dozens, maybe a hundred mounted bandits!"