Development

Dutch's current speaking state wasn't charming like he was trying to fool outsiders; instead, it was formal and heavy, imbued with a deep, almost somber atmosphere. But it was precisely this solemnity, this gravity, that made Sheriff Malloy realize, with a jolt, that Dutch wasn't joking. This was no idle boast.

However, it was precisely this realization that shocked Sheriff Malloy to the point of nearly fainting, his legs trembling beneath him. Damn it, he thought, his mind reeling, what Mr. Van der Linde was saying now was far, far more terrifying than his previous casual claims of knowing the Senators of Saint Denis!

"Cough, cough, cough…" Mr. Malloy choked, grasping at his throat, his body trembling uncontrollably, but, strangely, his heart was exceptionally calm, a cold, still pool amidst the storm of his fear. The intensity of this conversation was far greater, far more consequential, than any of their previous pleasantries. If their previous talks were all about him flattering Dutch to gain meager benefits, then the current conversation was a profound discussion between two equals, a strategic conclave that required meticulous consideration of consequences and future situations, a shared vision of power. Of course, he also had to consider the brutal consequences of refusal.

Well, Malloy thought, a bitter, ironic chuckle in his mind, no one, absolutely no one, could refuse in front of Dutch, not now! So Mr. Malloy didn't immediately step forward to flatter Dutch; instead, he trembled, slowly raised the wine glass in his hand, took a big, desperate gulp, and swallowed, hoping to suppress the wild excitement and gnawing worry in his heart.

Only then did he look at Dutch, his face set, and say, his voice strained, "Alright, Mr. Van der Linde. I think you've truly given me a difficult problem, esteemed sir. This proposal involves too much risk; not only does it require me to publicly acknowledge your legitimacy, but it also requires me to stand with you, irrevocably, in the future. After all, this is already an act of taking sides, Mr. Van der Linde, a blatant declaration of allegiance. The Federal Government has the right to convict me according to the law based on this action… But can I refuse, sir? Mayor of Valentine, damn it, that's a crazy position! I think, I think even if I don't want to, I won't be reconciled! It's too tempting, too grand to let slip!"

Sheriff Malloy's body finally, slowly, calmed down, his trembling subsiding. His former false enthusiasm, his obsequious deference, completely transformed into a fierce, genuine enthusiasm, a burning ambition. He walked up to Dutch, extended both hands, and firmly, almost desperately, shook his hand, his eyes shining with a fervent, almost desperate, loyalty.

Whether it was Dutch's commanding performance during this period, his brutal efficiency, or his profound words just now, it was chillingly clear that Dutch was a truly far-sighted man, a visionary beyond his time! And if Malloy didn't seize this golden, terrifying opportunity, he would simply be a fool, condemned to mediocrity.

"Hahaha, I knew Mr. Malloy was someone who couldn't stand loneliness!" Dutch laughed heartily, not taking Malloy's dramatic display to heart. At this stage, the Federal Government had no true, tangible control over local areas; they couldn't simply convict anyone on a whim! However, Mr. Malloy said this mainly to show his immediate, unwavering attitude, his complete submission. This also amounted to directly, irrevocably, siding with Dutch.

With this open expression from him, Dutch would essentially become the de facto, unquestioned controller of Valentine, with its police force, its law, and its very politics all at Dutch's absolute disposal. Only after completing this crucial step would Valentine truly be half in Dutch's hands, a vital stronghold.

"Alright, Mr. Van der Linde, feel free to act boldly." Sheriff Malloy completely expressed his stance, his voice ringing with conviction. "The Valentine Police Station will always obey your orders! I believe that with your formidable strength, you will bring earth-shattering changes to Valentine, a true revolution!" Again, everyone, including Malloy himself, had seen Dutch's undeniable performance during this tumultuous time; he was worth investing in, a guaranteed return!

Just then, the door of the police station was violently pushed open from the outside, and then a familiar voice, dripping with contempt, came through.

"Yes, Mr. Van der Linde will indeed bring earth-shattering changes to Valentine, for example, by borrowing bank funds under the guise of development, then leaving, leaving only a destitute Valentine village, a worthless husk!"

The voice was a bit familiar, chillingly so, and the person who uttered it looked even more familiar, a specter from Dutch's recent past. As the sound of the door opening, the door was opened wider. Agent Milton, his face grim, his hat slightly raised, bowed curtly to Dutch and Sheriff Malloy, a mocking gesture of respect, then his gaze, cold and unwavering, fixed on Dutch.

"I am Andrew Milton, Pinkerton Agent, and this is Agent Ross. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Van der Linde." Milton's voice was calm, almost courteous, a chilling contrast to his words.

"Dutch!" Agent Milton had just finished speaking when a sudden, urgent shout came from the police station entrance. Then the door was violently, abruptly pushed open from the outside, and Arthur, Hosea, and John rushed in, their guns already drawn, aimed directly at Agent Milton and Mr. Ross, who stood frozen in the doorway.

"Ah, we meet again, Mr. Morgan." Milton's eyes, sharp and unwavering, shifted to Arthur. "This must be Mr. Matthews, I presume?" His gaze then flickered to John beside Arthur, a curious glint in his eye. "And as for you, who are you?" Facing the cold, unyielding muzzles of three guns, Mr. Milton showed no fear, not a single flicker of apprehension.

Even though they were completely unable to contend with the full might of the Van der Linde Gang now, they knew Dutch would certainly not let his subordinates act, not yet. Compared to Mr. Ross, who was bent on annihilation, Mr. Milton was not overly bloodthirsty. He always targeted the leaders, the heads of the snake, and for other less important gang members, he basically let them go; after all, in this brutal West, who could truly be innocent?

Seeing the tense scene inside the room, and noting that the two Agents had not drawn their weapons, the guns in Arthur and John's hands slowly lowered, a grudging acknowledgment of the unspoken truce. Listening to Agent Milton's question, John hesitated slightly, a flash of mischievousness in his eyes, then a sly grin spread across his face.

"Jim Milton!" he declared, his voice firm, a defiant parody. Damn it, Dutch almost burst out laughing, a wide, triumphant grin stretching his lips. He was Agent Milton's half-brother, indeed! The smile on Mr. Milton's face also lessened slightly, a flicker of irritation. He slowly nodded, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Alright, Mr. Milton."

Only then did Dutch, standing by the window, a picture of smug satisfaction, smile and look at Mr. Milton, his voice oozing false cordiality. "Alright, Mr. Milton, I wonder what brings you here? Son, bring two cups of coffee for the two Agents."

"No! I will not taste coffee stained with blood and lost souls!" Agent Milton's face darkened, contorting into a mask of disgust, his voice a sharp, cutting retort.

Dutch shrugged, a gesture of weary resignation. "Alright, Mr. Milton. I don't know if you've noticed, but this is already a civilized place. We've killed all those damned gangs, worked hard to give everyone a meal, and tried every way to build Valentine better, not for you rich men's lackeys, Pinkerton Detectives who raise bandits to gain importance, to come and stir up trouble and ruin our good lives.

Those days you fantasize about no longer exist in Valentine! You will gain nothing here, only watch Valentine get better and better, while you Pinkerton Detectives decline day by day. Under my leadership, Valentine and even the Van der Linde Gang will only get better and better, not fall into your traps to prolong your lingering existence for a little while!"

As soon as Dutch spoke, Agent Milton was utterly stunned! Damn it, he thought, his mind reeling, those are my lines! Those are my very arguments! Agent Milton's face was as dark as storm water, his gaze fixed on Dutch, burning with a furious, impotent rage.

"Eloquence and a silver tongue have always been your strengths, Mr. Van der Linde, otherwise you wouldn't have gathered these lost souls. But no matter how much you say, it's useless. The crimes you've committed and the innocent souls under your gun will not diminish in the slightest because of your sophistry! The prosperity and vanity you've built with blood will only be a fleeting moment before your inevitable decline! Mr. Van der Linde, you are nothing but a killer! The prosperity built with blood and evil will eventually turn into nothingness! Take care of yourself, Mr. Van der Linde!"

Mr. Milton's face was terrifyingly grim, but he always maintained a gentlemanly demeanor, even using polite address like "sir" when speaking, a last shred of professional dignity. Because he knew, with a bitter certainty, that he couldn't out-argue Dutch, Agent Milton, his face contorted in a mask of defeat, turned and squeezed past Arthur and John, pushed open the door with a violent shove, and prepared to leave.

"Hahaha, Mr. Milton, if you can't make it in the Pinkerton Detectives anymore, you can come find me, sir. I appreciate you very much! I can offer you a high price of three hundred dollars!" Dutch called out, his voice dripping with condescending amusement, a final, humiliating jab.

"Bang!" The door was slammed shut with a resounding crash by Mr. Milton, a desperate, futile act of defiance. Dutch's face in the room, however, was full of triumphant smiles, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Dutch didn't dislike Milton at all, not truly, because he was always a true gentleman, always, inadvertently, giving others in the Van der Linde Gang some opportunities, some chances to turn over a new leaf.

From beginning to end, he had never expressed outright malice towards anyone. This, Dutch mused, was truly someone who deserved to be redeemed, to be taken and then rebuilt in his image.

Anyway, Dutch quite liked him.