Rights

"Then can I buy some books myself?" Mary-Beth asked, her eyes wide with innocent hope, looking at Dutch with an eager, almost childlike expectation. She adored reading, devoured stories like a starving wolf, and her passion for writing burned bright. So Dutch's task, despite its underlying strategic coldness, was a pure, unadulterated enjoyment for her.

"Of course, Mary-Beth, of course, child," Dutch replied, a warm, indulgent smile on his face. He couldn't possibly refuse such a lovely girl's request, could he? His gaze then fell on Sean and Javier, who had just sauntered out of a nearby room, their faces still a little rumpled from sleep.

Karen, that fiery spirit, also walked out of Sean's room with him, her arm linked possessively through his. The two were now openly, brazenly, living together. Sean, that scrawny, often inept monkey, had somehow, miraculously, managed to win over a formidable, big-chested woman like Karen, a true testament to his Irish charm, or perhaps, simply Dutch's increasingly benevolent influence.

"Sean, Javier, can you go to Saint Denis for me, boys? Go find Ms. Dorothea of the Wicklow Family and ask her to help purchase a complete set of printing equipment! The finest available, no expense spared!"

"Of course, Dutch!" Javier nodded, his loyalty absolute, his face grimly determined. He was always so faithful, so utterly devoted, faithfully carrying out Dutch's every audacious order without question.

"Alright, Dutch," Sean chimed in, his eyes darting eagerly between Karen and Dutch, "should Karen come with us too? The two of us don't know Ms. Dorothea personally, and it would be more familiar, more respectable, with Karen there, wouldn't it?"

"Of course, child, if Karen wants to go," Dutch said, his smile widening, a benevolent nod of approval. And with his agreement, Karen, who had been standing by, practically vibrating with suppressed excitement, immediately let out a joyous cheer. "Yay!"

"Oh, Dutch, if these three children go, won't Signor Bronte...?" Hosea, who had just emerged from his own room, a thoughtful frown on his face, voiced his concern, his brow furrowed with apprehension. They had just thoroughly, brutally offended Signor Bronte, leaving him a broken, humiliated mess, and Karen had already shown her face, her spirited presence, in Saint Denis. Hosea worried that once Karen, Sean, and Javier entered the city, Signor Bronte, in his blind rage, would undoubtedly send his remnants to target them, a desperate, futile act of revenge.

Dutch, however, was utterly unconcerned, his face a mask of serene confidence. "Don't worry, Hosea. Signor Bronte is a smart man, a cunning, calculating animal. The only thing he needs to do now is stabilize his shattered power, lick his wounds.

Besides that, he won't cause any extra trouble, nor would he dare to. So even if I, myself, were to stroll into Saint Denis this very moment, he will only tolerate it, he will swallow his pride. Signor Bronte can no longer withstand any storms, any further conflict. As I said last time, if he didn't kill us that night, when his rage was at its peak, he won't easily make a move again. He's broken, Hosea."

"Alright," Hosea conceded, a sigh escaping him. He then turned to the eager trio, his face slightly troubled, like an old father watching his children leave for war.

"But Karen, Javier, Sean, the three of you still need to be careful. If anything feels off, if the air feels wrong, go directly to Shady Belle. Sean knows the place. We've already built a fortress and three impregnable bunkers there. With those defenses and that manpower, I don't think anyone would dare to target you, not even Bronte himself." Hosea meticulously instructed, his concern palpable. If it were Arthur going now, he wouldn't be so worried, because Arthur was seasoned enough, mature enough to handle most dangers himself, a force of nature. But these three young ones, Sean and Karen in particular, were similar to John—reckless, impulsive, and not always the most honest kids. This always made Hosea a little worried, a quiet thrum of anxiety in his chest.

"Oh, sh*t! Three bunkers? Damn it, Dutch, are you building a military base?!" Before Karen and the other two could even speak, the old man, who had just shuffled out of a room, seeking a morning cigarette, yelled, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and drunken amusement. The parasites in the gang, the ones who didn't contribute directly to the gang's "legitimate" operations, had been living extremely well these days.

Dutch, in his boundless generosity, provided free alcohol and cigarettes to the factory workers, and this old man was utterly liberated. He was hardly ever sober these days, either drinking or on his way to drink. He slept and drank so much that his sallow complexion had become much rosier, a testament to his newfound, decadent lifestyle.

However, he was a cunning one, this old scoundrel. Although he was good at drinking and smoking, he hardly spent the five hundred dollars the gang gave him each month. In this regard, he was actually the most frugal, the most careful with his newfound wealth. Oh, this old parasite was always so damn clever.

"Oh, old friend," Hosea greeted the old man with a gentle smile and a weary shake of his head, "I've rarely seen you this sober lately. The gang is gradually getting better now, perhaps you can also change your appearance, eh? Maybe some lonely widow will fall for you because of it. You can't live the rest of your life in this half-awake, drunken stupor, can you?" Hosea was genuinely thinking of him, offering a heartfelt piece of advice.

"Oh ho ho, forget it, Hosea," the old man chuckled, waving a dismissive hand, a mischievous glint in his bloodshot eyes. "I'm not a man like you who stays handsome even in old age! And I don't like widows, I just like drinking. There's no better life than this!" The old man chuckled again, a deep, raspy sound, as he took out a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes from the cabinet behind the table, then hummed a cheerful, tuneless tune and ambled outside.

He loved lying on the ground in front of the factory entrance, watching the busy, vibrant employees inside, and getting gloriously drunk. It prevented him, he always said, from feeling lonely, from the gnawing emptiness. Damn it, Dutch thought, a faint smile on his lips, this man was always full of secrets. But now was not the time to delve into his cryptic depths.

Dutch looked at Hosea, his expression serious once more. "Alright, Hosea, pack up, old friend. We'll need to go to Valentine to recruit workers soon. Oh, and bring the megaphone Mr. Marko developed. We need to do some proper publicity before recruiting, a grand spectacle." His eyes narrowed in thought.

"Hmm, let me think. This publicity work will be handled by Sadie, Mrs. Morgan, Miss O'Shea, Mary-Beth, and Tilly. Ms. Grimshaw, please take them by carriage to Valentine for recruitment publicity. Our specific recruitment time is at ten o'clock this morning! This recruitment will hire two hundred female workers, and if these female workers have families, they can also bring them to live here. Of course, their men will also need to work for us, to contribute to the family!"

"Oh, by the way," Dutch added, his gaze falling on Ms. Susan, who was walking over, a stern, unsmiling figure. He instructed her directly, his voice clear and commanding. "This recruitment will still be conducted in the name of the three Ms. Dorothea, and the news will be placed on the sign of the Valentine Women's Suffrage meeting! We need to further accelerate the proportion of women's rights; this will be a huge help for us to gain the right to use Guarma, to claim it as our own!"

Dutch looked at Ms. Grimshaw, his eyes gleaming with strategic intent. These ladies were more suitable for publicizing the recruitment of female workers, their gentle persuasion far more effective than any gruff male. In fact, the publicity on the clothing, emblazoned with the names and deeds of the three Ms. Dorothea, was already sufficient for their burgeoning reputation. In the current stage where women did not even possess the right to vote, this kind of publicity was enough to brand their families with the undeniable label of women's rights, and they would, undoubtedly, also go down in history as champions of the cause!

Moreover, the clothing styles favored by the three ladies were currently incredibly popular, spreading like wildfire in several surrounding states, and their names, too, would be widely disseminated, woven into the very fabric of society. This had already completely exceeded their previous expectations, so there was no need to focus on this small recruitment list in Valentine. But this, Dutch knew, was not enough for his boundless ambition.

He needed to further expand this momentum, preferably to influence the recruitment environment in Saint Denis and the very proportion of women in daily life, thereby using this as the biggest bargaining chip, the ultimate leverage, to contend with those damned upper-class individuals. He, Dutch Van der Linde, was the true spokesperson for women's rights, their champion, so the more women's rights flourished, the more beneficial it would be for him, for his burgeoning empire!