America 1881: Legend of the West

Chen Jianqiu and Feiniao stayed here for a while.

While avoiding federal cavalry patrols, they surveyed the land in detail.

This is indeed a great place to settle.

Especially on the south bank of the river, you can either enclose a ready-made pasture or open up a large area of ​​land for farming.

The people of the Oklahoma Colonization Association did have good vision, but in their plan, the land on the south coast had already been divided up.

"This is it!" Chen Jianqiu stepped on the soft soil on the ground and said.

A group of people left the place after drawing a detailed map of the surrounding area.

The day is getting closer for the Oklahoma area to open.

The news of the opening also spread in the east and west through various channels.

More and more people are flocking to open border areas.

Most of these people are new immigrants.

They did not catch up with the previous opening of western lands.

This is the last chance.

Congress established two land offices in Kansas.

There are about a dozen land affairs officers there responsible for this land registration.

According to the "Homestead Act", these American citizens only need to pay a registration fee of US$10 to receive no more than 160 acres of western state-owned land as allotments here.

Of course, if they live or farm on the land for five years, they can own the land at a cost of $1.25 per acre.

During this time, the threshold of the land office door was breached.

People who came to register formed a long queue outside the door, the queue was one kilometer long.

However, what is different from the past is that this time there are a large number of yellow-skinned faces among the applicants.

"Are you an American citizen?"

Behind the table, the land affairs officer repeatedly checked the identity information handed over by a Chinese man opposite.

Beside him, there were several federal soldiers with guns to maintain order at the scene and protect the safety of the affairs officer.

"Yes, sir, I became a naturalized citizen the year before last."

The Chinese spoke proficient English and said politely.

He was wearing a cloth coat, and the back of his head was bare.

"But as far as I know, after the bill comes out, no Chinese can obtain U.S. citizenship." The clerk's expression was very serious.

"My father has been a legal citizen many years ago. I was born in the United States, pay taxes legally, and do not steal or rob." The Chinese said calmly.

The clerk was still doubtful.

"What did you do before coming here?" he continued.

"I'm a worker, an oil worker, working at the Roswell Refinery, sir." the Chinese replied.

The clerk glanced at the thick calluses on his hands.

He began to check the information again, trying to find any trace of forgery in it.

Unfortunately, this information is true and there is no problem.

"Why is it so slow in front?!"

"Hey! Can you hurry up!"

"I've been here since yesterday and queued up, what a damn ink stain!"

The people at the back of the team became silent and began to express their dissatisfaction.

Most of them are red-necked, upright, rough, and proud of being illiterate.

"Shut up! You country bumpkins, if you don't want to register, you can go back now!"

The federal officer maintaining order shouted at the team.

Sure enough, those red necks are more accustomed to this way of communication.

They quickly shut up and returned to their ranks.

However, the affairs officer had no intention of worrying about the identity of the Chinese in front of him.

After charging him the ten-dollar registration fee, the clerk stamped the registration document and handed it to him.

The first people to notice the presence of Chinese people were not the officials.

Rather, they were men from the Colonists' Association squatting near the land office.

This man was a "loser" in the general sense under the circumstances at that time. He perfectly missed every land distribution in the westward expansion movement in recent years.

Either he didn't make the trip, or the banks and big landowners took advantage of the land.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have been reduced to living in a tent in the Colonists' Association.

He was frightened by being robbed of his land, and he keenly sensed something.

So we rushed to the association’s headquarters in Arkansas City as soon as possible.

"President, the Land Registry found a lot of yellow-skinned Chinese!" he said breathlessly to Kuchi.

"Chinese? Are you awake? Where do they have the qualifications to acquire land?" Kuqi was somewhat disapproving.

"No, there are many Chinese in Roswell." The braided man knew better, "They all seem to have citizenship."

He thought for a while and made a suggestion: "Should we talk to their people? I always feel that these people are organized."

Kuqi was a little unhappy when he heard this:

"What are we talking about? We have close to a thousand fully armed soldiers, heavy weapons, and support from tens of thousands of people in the association. What's there to talk about following these Chinese?"

"When the time comes, just like those who have not joined the association, if they dare to act rashly, we will deal with them!"

The braided man thought it right, stopped talking, turned around and prepared to go out.

Kuchi suddenly remembered that there was something he had yet to explain, and he shouted at the braided man's back:

"By the way, don't forget to go to the camp to pick up people!"

The camp Couch was referring to was the state border between Kansas and Oklahoma.

It's packed with people now.

Every few kilometers there is a camp consisting of tents or simple shacks, where pioneers from all over the country gather.

Caravans were parked everywhere, containing all the gang's belongings.

Even so, they were still uneasy.

Pioneering is a very difficult thing. The lack of seeds and agricultural tools may turn an originally promising thing into despair.

"The Oklahoma Colonization Association sincerely invites all friends to join! Here, you will no longer walk alone, we will be your strong backing!"

The braided man led several people to the camp on horseback.

He and his assistant jumped off their horses and began handing out leaflets printed by the association to those walking around the camp.

Someone soon became interested in this and joined in:

"Is your association serious?" asked a farmer with a brown beard.

The braided man turned his head and glared at him inexplicably: "We now have tens of thousands of association members, what do you think?"

"Oh." Bearded Beard quickly asked, "Then are there any benefits to joining the association?"

"Of course, joining the association will give you priority in acquiring good land, and you can also get our protection!" The braided man said with certainty.

He gestured to a place just over the state line:

“By then, most of the land here will belong to our association.”

The bearded man nodded honestly. He hesitated for a moment and then asked:

"Um, so, are there any membership fees or anything?"

"Yes, you need to pay a one-time membership fee of US$3 and an annual membership fee of US$2.5 when you join the membership," said an association member next to the braided man.

The bearded man turned away.

The registration fee of 10 US dollars is already a huge amount of money, but now you have to pay 5.5 US dollars to join the association. Why don't they grab it?

"Hey! 5.5 US dollars can be exchanged for the protection of more than a thousand warriors! It's a good deal, isn't it?"

The braided man shouted at the bearded figure.

There were many other peasants who left together, all of whom were impoverished proletarians.

"You fools will regret it in two weeks." Braid said bitterly.

However, there were still many people who still had some money to spare and were willing to join in. They gathered around the braided man and chirped:

"The best land will be given to us then, right?"

"Yes, we have found a piece of fertile land south of the North Carnedine River. As long as you follow us, the land association will distribute it to everyone!" Braid vowed.

While he was busy describing the "Garden of Eden" to the new members with bright eyes, his assistant suddenly poked him in the arm:

"Tom, what do you think that is?"

The braided man raised his head and suddenly found that there were still people "soliciting customers" in the camp, holding signs.

He read out the phrase on the sign:

"Farmers Supply and Marketing Cooperative? What the hell is this?"