Dutch was wright all along

"OH, ******!" Arthur grumbled, a frustrated sigh escaping him. He visibly deflated, abandoning his dash for the hitching post. Despite his lingering, fiery rage, he knew Dutch was right. Revenge, however satisfying in the moment, was a fool's errand, a distraction from the larger game.

Still, the Murfree Brood. Those wretched, unspeakable inbred bastards! They had nearly taken Dutch's life once, and now, they'd come within an inch of sending good old Hosea to an early grave. Arthur's hands clenched into fists; it was damn near impossible to feel at ease knowing those inbred fiends still drew breath.

"Alright, children! Everyone, gather 'round!" Dutch's voice, now calm and authoritative, cut through the tension. He stood before the sturdy wooden house, his gaze sweeping over his assembled family. "Ms. Grimshaw, Mr. Pearson, round everyone up! Marko, Randy, and Kieran, even Miss Sadie! All of you, come inside! We are a family now, a single, unbreakable unit! Therefore, you all deserve to be privy to our grand plans, our glorious future!"

He watched as Ms. Grimshaw, with her usual stern efficiency, and Mr. Pearson, looking somewhat bewildered, emerged from the cabin. Dutch then nodded to the other new members, a welcoming gesture, and led the entire motley crew into the wooden house.

This was only their second official "family meeting" within the confines of the cabin, but it marked a momentous occasion: the very first time every single member of the Van der Linde Gang had been assembled.

And it wasn't just the core gang members; even Mr. JD, the capable captain of Hope Ranch's security team, the first of their elite sharpshooters, was ushered in to join the inner circle. Three other sharpshooter-level gunmen, recently recruited, stood outside; they were still too new, too uninitiated in the harsh realities of formal combat, to be included as core members. For now, they remained on the periphery.

Davey, Mac, John, Bill, Javier, Sean… one by one, gang members materialized from various corners of the ranch, their boots thudding softly as they pushed open the cabin door and spilled into the cozy, yet now packed, living room.

Dutch, naturally, took the main seat on the living room sofa, radiating an almost regal authority. To his left, strategically positioned on the sofa or perched on its sturdy armrests, sat Hosea, Arthur, Davey, Mac, and John. To his right, arrayed with a similar gravitas, were Bill, Javier, Marko, Charles, Lenny, and Sean. Mr. Marko, of course, owed his privileged position solely to his extraordinary, almost fantastical, scientific acumen; such genius deserved nothing less than utmost respect.

The remaining members, JD, Kieran, Trelawny, and Strauss, stood respectfully in the empty spaces around the room. They weren't strictly combat personnel, or were too new to the family's inner workings, and thus, for now, occupied the outer perimeter. The rest of the female members, too, stood quietly, observing the proceedings.

The internal dynamics of the Van der Linde Gang, as even a casual observer from Dutch's previous life would attest, were quite peculiar. The gang's pecking order was implicitly, yet rigidly, defined; everyone seemed to possess an innate understanding of where they belonged – who sat, who stood, who spoke, and who merely listened. Even in later, more desperate times, Arthur, despite his raw strength, would never quite manage to keep pace with Dutch's grand strategic leaps, while Mac, inexplicably, always seemed to hover just behind his leader, a loyal shadow.

Dutch surveyed the fully assembled members of the Van der Linde Gang, a profound sense of satisfaction blossoming in his chest. He offered a slow, appreciative nod.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice resonating with charismatic authority, "whether you are venerable, old members of our glorious Van der Linde Gang, or newly joined comrades, your performance during this period has been nothing short of superb! Magnificent, in fact!" He gestured broadly, encompassing everyone in his sweeping gaze.

"Through your tireless efforts, your unwavering loyalty, our Van der Linde Gang has, in a mere three months, transformed itself! We have evolved from mere thugs and outlaws – a rather charming, if limited, profession – into esteemed clothing merchants, the undisputed nobility of Valentine, and indeed, bona fide members of Saint Denis's elusive upper class! I tell you, I am profoundly, unequivocally, proud of each and every one of you!" He thumped his chest lightly, a gesture of shared triumph.

"However," Dutch continued, his voice taking on a more serious, almost somber tone, "this truly remarkable transformation is but a tiny, nascent step towards our ultimate goal. We are still a vast, vast distance from achieving our true objective! Do not forget, my friends, that beyond our immediate successes, beyond this very ship, beyond the borders of this very city, countless adversaries – in Saint Denis alone, to say nothing of the entire United States! – desire nothing more than to annex us, to plot our downfall, to see us vanish like a wisp of smoke!"

He leaned forward, his gaze hardening. "Therefore, we cannot, for a single moment, relax our pace! We cannot, for an instant, falter in our resolve! We must continue to strive, to forge ahead with unwavering determination, to follow the magnificent plan I have set forth, and march relentlessly towards our grand destination!"

Dutch's words, a potent blend of praise and strategic warning, effectively galvanized everyone, capturing their attention and igniting a renewed sense of purpose. For the newer members, it provided an immediate, vital sense of belonging, a clear understanding of their place within this extraordinary family. Observing their now serious, determined expressions, Dutch nodded, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"Now then," Dutch continued, his voice brimming with a renewed energy, "our 'VDL' Clothing Store has established itself with resounding success, and we find ourselves with a most delightful surplus of funds! Therefore, it is imperative that we continue our outward expansion, relentlessly pursuing the next phase of our magnificent plan!"

He paused, allowing the anticipation to build. "And so, gentlemen, let it be known: the Guarma Island Arms Plan officially commences!"

Dutch's gaze settled on Marko and Mr. Randy, a challenging glint in his eye. "Mr. Marko, I trust you and Mr. Randy can collaborate, meticulously studying the equipment we've acquired and our firearm blueprints? See if we can successfully replicate these firearms, thereby granting us the invaluable ability to produce our own weapons, independently, free from the shackles of outside suppliers!"

"Of course, Dutch, my friend! Absolutely!" Mr. Marko practically vibrated with excitement, his eyes glowing with an almost manic, red intensity. He looked like a man who had just been granted permission to dismantle the universe. "I have had quite enough of this damn, insufferable United States Government! Oh, I will most certainly deliver a perfect, truly revolutionary result for you!" Marko was, after all, a visionary scientist, a man who harbored secret ambitions of world domination via giant, mechanical robots. To be granted the green light for an arms business? His interest soared to heights that even the old, battle-hardened members of the Van der Linde Gang couldn't fathom. He looked as if he yearned, at that very moment, to invent a bomb capable of detonating the entire world, just to ensure Mr. Van der Linde could ascend to his rightful throne as king.

"Very good, Marko! That's the spirit I like to see!" Dutch beamed, genuinely pleased by Marko's fervent enthusiasm.

He then turned his attention to Mr. Trelawny, his expression becoming more thoughtful, more conspiratorial. "Mr. Trelawny, my dear, elusive friend, I have heard whispers of a most intriguing pair of scientists dwelling in the distant lands of Ohio. They are brothers, it seems, from the esteemed Wright family. I am told they are engaged in the rather audacious pursuit of inventing a machine capable of granting man the gift of flight! A truly fantastical endeavor, wouldn't you agree?"

Dutch leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, serious tone. "I believe you, Mr. Trelawny, possess precisely the cunning and the charm necessary for this delicate mission. Take a substantial sum – say, one hundred thousand dollars – and make your way there. Your objective is twofold: either, with your considerable persuasive talents, bring both these brilliant brothers back here to join our family, or, if that proves impossible, use this funding to support their research into these magnificent flying machines, and in return, secure the exclusive right to utilize the blueprints of any machines they develop."

Dutch's gaze swept over the three men he was about to task with this vital mission. "And Davey, Javier, Bill! The three of you shall accompany Mr. Trelawny on this journey. Take ten of our most reliable gunmen. Your primary objective is to ensure the safe delivery of this hundred thousand dollars, and just as importantly, to guarantee Mr. Trelawny's safety! Do I make myself clear?"

Ohio, while not directly adjacent to Lemoyne, was still a considerable journey to the east. It would necessitate a boat trip, and the entire endeavor would undoubtedly consume a significant amount of time.

As for the fabled Wright Brothers, their pioneering work on the first successful airplane was still a few years off, between 1900 and 1903. At this precise moment, they were likely still toiling away in their humble bicycle repair shop, their meager earnings painstakingly channeled into their audacious research into the fundamental structure of flight.

Even when their first, miraculous airplane successfully took to the skies, it garnered little more than apathy. A mere five people witnessed that momentous event, and the United States Government, bless its bureaucratic heart, dismissed it entirely. The media, ever eager for a grand spectacle, largely regarded it as mere grandstanding, barely warranting a column inch.

Therefore, providing them with a hundred thousand dollars at this opportune moment would be nothing short of a timely, life-changing infusion of capital. This hundred thousand dollars, Dutch understood, was not a mere expenditure; it was a profound investment.

While a fully functioning airplane might not materialize overnight, the sheer accumulation of technological expertise, the invaluable knowledge gleaned from their relentless experimentation, was absolutely essential.

It was akin to the painstaking, often frustrating, research into developing a nuclear bomb – a process that devoured immense sums of money, often without even the slightest glimmer of hope for immediate results. Without countless trials and errors, without the invaluable accumulation of empirical data, even a sudden, miraculous breakthrough would remain utterly incomprehensible, its underlying principles lost to the void.

Moreover, these two brothers, Dutch knew, possessed a truly exceptional genius; they had, after all, constructed the world's very first simulated wind tunnel. At this stage, with their pockets undoubtedly barren, their ambitions soaring beyond their financial means, Dutch firmly believed that these two scientific masters would, without a shadow of a doubt, embrace his generous hundred-thousand-dollar investment.

It wasn't merely about the money, he mused; it was about a profound resonance, a shared spark of visionary thinking that transcended mere commerce.