149

After being successfully, and perhaps a little theatrically, persuaded once again by Dutch's silver tongue, Hosea, a sigh escaping his lips, led John into the Veteran Club to begin the intricate plan Dutch had assigned them. Looking at Hosea's retreating, somewhat weary figure, Arthur, ever the mediator, smoothed things over. "Alright, Dutch. Hosea always thinks like this, you know, always worrying about the storm on the horizon."

"Yes, son, I know," Dutch said, a faint, almost melancholic smile touching his lips. He shook his head slowly, a knowing glint in his eye, and glanced at Hosea's retreating back.

"Actually, Hosea's concerns are indeed valid, because with our current operations, with the scale we're reaching, if the United States Federal Government were to truly notice us, to turn its monstrous eye our way, it would be very troublesome, indeed. It took them almost a hundred years to conquer these lands, to subdue this wild frontier; they won't tolerate us building bunkers on their territory, Arthur. That's not merely defiance; that's a blatant division of their land, a tearing of their very fabric of control." Dutch's smile, once melancholic, hardened into something colder, more resolute as he led Arthur towards their waiting horses.

Listening to Dutch's words, Arthur turned back in genuine surprise to look at him, his eyebrows shooting up. "Oh, sh*t! Old Dutch is actually admitting his problems now? Acknowledging the beast, eh?"

"Sh*t, Arthur!" Dutch snapped, his gaze suddenly sharp, piercing. "This isn't a problem, you fool, but the inevitable outcome of this very choice! Listen, son, I know you and Hosea like to discuss Old Dutch's various quirks, his little eccentricities, but now, you must stand firmly in my position, understand?! We want to survive, not merely exist, but to stand tall in America!

This, Arthur, is an inevitable conflict, a clash of titans! So Hosea's problem isn't wrong, not in its essence, but my idea isn't wrong either! It's the only path!" Dutch glared at Arthur, his eyes blazing with a fierce, unyielding conviction, then reached out to take the reins of The Count and mounted his horse with a fluid, practiced grace.

"Of course, Dutch. I've never questioned you, you know that." Arthur immediately expressed his loyalty, his words somewhat hurried, a desperate attempt to placate the sudden storm in Dutch's eyes.

"Alright, don't be nervous, son, I'm not questioning you or complaining about you, you know?" Dutch said, his voice softening, a rare tenderness entering his tone. He reached out and clapped Arthur warmly on the shoulder. "You, you and John... you, you're like my children, my own flesh and blood. So I want to leave you with a perfect life, a legacy, at least so you don't have to live in fear and be at the mercy of others for the rest of your lives. A life truly free."

Dutch's words were full of a raw, uncharacteristic emotion. Although for him, saying such sentimental words felt a bit overly theatrical, a tad too saccharine, Arthur found them profoundly comforting, a balm to his restless soul. He nodded, feeling awkward yet undeniably warm, a lump in his throat. "Oh, I know, Dutch, I know."

"Very good, since you know, then let's continue with our plan, our grand design for the future!" Dutch declared, his voice once again booming with confidence. "Valentine doesn't need much more arrangement; as long as the bunkers are built, those concrete bastions, and workers are continuously recruited, a steady flow of loyal souls, Valentine will naturally expand due to economic flow and eventually become a real city, a true metropolis of the West.

However, all operations, all grand designs, require money, a constant river of gold, so I think we need to go to Saint Denis. To see those ladies, to charm them, and also to host a grand banquet, allowing me to strategically exchange needs and interests with those gentlemen of high society, to twist their arms with polite smiles. It's time for us to enter Guarma, and with official endorsement!"

Dutch was now trotting on his horse in front, The Count's hooves thudding rhythmically, with Arthur following closely beside him, listening intently to his subsequent plan arrangements. The more he listened, the more awesome, the more terrifyingly brilliant, he felt Dutch's mind was. "Sh*t, how did Dutch's brain work like that?" Arthur muttered to himself, shaking his head in bewildered admiration. "How could he string together this series of plans, each more audacious than the last?!" The two horses slowly headed towards Hope Ranch, their figures silhouetted against the rising sun.

Time, a relentless river, slowly passed, and Dutch's intricate plan was gradually, inexorably, progressing, each piece of his grand puzzle falling into place. First, elegant letters, engraved with the new, refined 'VDL' insignia, were sent one by one from Hope Ranch, fanning out to Saint Denis and even throughout New Hanover, like seeds scattered on fertile ground. There were even letters addressed to dignitaries in other states, invitations carried by trusted messengers. All these letters were formal, yet undeniably alluring, invitations.

'To the esteemed Mr. XX, you are cordially invited to the first 'VDL' Clothing Store Member Dinner. Arthur Callahan.'

That's right, Dutch was preparing to host the first, exclusive dinner for the clothing store members, a strategic gathering cloaked in social pleasantries. It had been one and a half months, almost two months, since the clothing store had burst onto the scene, its doors thrown open to the eager public. In these two months alone, the registered 'VDL' members had swelled to over 120, a burgeoning network of influence, and the monetary income alone had reached an astonishing 120,000 dollars, a veritable fortune.

Out of these 120-plus members, twelve would be meticulously selected to have custom clothing made, a coveted benefit, a tangible fulfillment of their initial promise. The reason for holding this grand dinner was, first, to allow the numerous, influential members to witness firsthand the impeccable fulfillment of their clothing store's promise, cementing their trust.

Second, it was to seize this golden opportunity to negotiate with eager merchants from other cities who wanted to cooperate or wholesale, thereby acquiring even more wealth through strategically placed franchise stores and simultaneously expanding production to meet the insatiable demand. Of course, the ultimate, overarching point was to exchange female suffrage and immigrant voting rights for legitimate, unquestionable status to utilize Guarma, to claim it as their own, an island fortress for his burgeoning empire.

While Dutch was frantically sending letters, a whirlwind of calculated charm, the various matters Hosea was in charge of also began to be implemented one by one, a synchronized symphony of progress. First was the establishment of the trading posts, the very lifeblood of Valentine's future prosperity. Hope Ranch had recruited a total of two hundred female workers this time, bringing the total number of people, including their grateful families, to nearly five hundred, and together with the previous personnel, it was almost a thousand mouths to feed, a thousand loyal souls.

The children of these people were raised for free by the factory (only food and lodging provided), a benevolent act of pure strategic genius, while the remaining men were either laborers or, more importantly, gunmen. In addition, twenty-three new gunmen were provided by the Veteran Club, hardened men eager for purpose. Thus, the total number of gunmen at Hope Ranch had reached over one hundred and thirty, a formidable private army. At this point, Dutch finally had a semblance of true, formidable self-preservation capability in the brutal, unforgiving West.

After sending thirty gunmen and their families to the Shady Belle Second Factory area, a new, self-sufficient colony, the remaining one hundred gunmen were split, with fifty going to Vulture Ranch for rigorous, specialized training. They, Dutch knew, would become the very backbone of the Van der Linde Gang in the future, his elite guard!

And the remaining fifty gunmen at Hope Ranch were strategically dispersed along the newly constructed bunkers, their cold, metallic presence a constant reminder of Dutch's power, with as many as twenty gunmen dispatched from the bunkers along the road alone, securing the arteries of his growing empire. Although concrete took twenty-one days to fully solidify, to reach its full, impenetrable strength, it actually began to be used after just seven days.

Therefore, the five formidable bunkers built along the road from Hope Ranch to Valentine had already begun to be garrisoned by gunmen. Five bunkers, twenty gunmen working in two shifts, vigilant and unyielding, to ensure the absolute safety of the road, a vital lifeline. And the trading posts of Hope Ranch were officially established, bustling hubs of commerce, thus forming a vibrant, new trade channel!

The entire Valentine, along with Hope Ranch, underwent a qualitative, almost miraculous, change in this short, tumultuous week, transforming from a sleepy town into a thriving, self-sufficient powerhouse.