Rhodes' call

"Ms. O'Shea! Mrs. Morgan! And my dearest Mary-Beth, Karen, Jenny, Tilly, and Mrs. Adler!" Dutch announced, his gaze sweeping over the women of the gang, his voice imbued with a rare, almost theatrical solemnity. "During this critical period, you all have a most vital role to play as well!" He paused, allowing his words to sink in.

"Valentine, my friends, must evolve! It must be transformed into a truly prominent, thriving city! For the more Valentine flourishes, the higher our standing in this great nation will become. And the higher our standing, the less those damned Pinkerton detectives and meddlesome police will be able to touch us! Our influence, you see, will spread like a magnificent, unstoppable tide!" Dutch gestured grandly, as if painting a vision across the very air.

"However," he continued, his brow furrowing slightly, "Valentine currently suffers from a dire lack of… attractive standards! Its infrastructure, I must confess, is still rather dilapidated! This, my friends, is simply unacceptable! Left to its own devices, it might take decades, even a century, for Valentine to truly thrive. But we, my dear family, cannot, will not, wait that long!" He slapped his thigh decisively.

"Therefore," Dutch leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I intend to accelerate Valentine's transformation into a city with all the fervor I can muster! Besides commercial resources, which we are currently rapidly acquiring, living resources – the very fabric of daily life – are equally, if not more, important for retaining people! We are on the cusp of recruiting a massive influx of individuals for resource extraction and expanding our production scale, so our hands are somewhat tied in immediately boosting commercial resources.

The only path forward, the most effective strategy right now, is to strengthen people's livelihoods!" He paused for effect.

"And what, you might ask, is the most profound, most effective way to strengthen people's livelihoods?" Dutch's eyes twinkled with a knowing mischievousness.

"Why, establishing schools! Yes, schools! Establishing schools will perfectly help us retain a vast number of families, providing the very bedrock for a stable, growing population!"

He turned to Miss O'Shea, his expression earnest. "So, Ms. O'Shea, I hope you can take these wonderful ladies to Saint Denis. Find your influential friend, Ms. Dorothea, and enlist her invaluable assistance. Have them help us establish proper schools in Valentine, recruit dedicated teachers, and handle all the necessary certifications. As long as a true, accredited school is established in Valentine, families from every dusty, forgotten surrounding town will actively, eagerly, flock to Valentine for the sake of their children! They will stay here, my friends, and become our most precious resource: our population!"

Dutch spoke with an almost hypnotic eloquence, weaving complex economic and sociological concepts into a grand, compelling narrative. The outlaws of the Van der Linde Gang, though not quite grasping the finer nuances of his professional jargon, understood the general gist of his magnificent vision. And the more they understood, the more their admiration for Dutch soared to new, dizzying heights.

Good heavens! How did he think of these things?! Binding families, not with chains, but with schools?! The sheer audacity! Even in their crude era, the problems caused by limited educational resources were painfully evident.

The entire state of New Hanover – whether it was Valentine, or Rhodes, or even the small towns of Strawberry and Blackwater in nearby West Elizabeth – boasted not a single, legitimate school. Oh, there were a few shadowy figures offering private tutoring, certainly, but this era had already begun to embrace the importance of proper degree certificates and academic thresholds.

One could attend private tutoring for a lifetime in these backwaters and never receive a formal graduation certificate. Only by attending a recognized school in Saint Denis could one obtain that coveted piece of paper, the golden key to better employment in the burgeoning cities.

Therefore, once Dutch erected this real school, it would undoubtedly become a beacon, drawing residents from every desolate surrounding town, simply for the sake of their children.

They would come, settle, and obtain those precious certificates, enabling their offspring to venture into the cities and secure better-paying jobs. The steady stream of migrating families, and the vibrant economic activity generated by these eager newcomers, would all become nutrient-rich soil for Valentine's unstoppable rise.

Damn it all! How did his brain even work?! How did he know so much about… everything?! The Van der Linde Gang members' admiration for Dutch flowed like a surging, relentless river, continuous and endless.

"Yes, Dutch," Ms. O'Shea affirmed, her voice soft but firm. Having been repeatedly, and rather pleasantly, 'conquered' by Dutch's intellect and charm during this period, she had become completely, wonderfully obedient. Indeed, thanks to her improved mood and Dutch's gentle guidance, she was no longer as prickly, as sharp-tongued, as before.

She had, mercifully, reintegrated with the other women of the gang, finding a sense of camaraderie she hadn't known she craved. This was, in truth, a truly good thing. Ms. O'Shea, in her previous, suffocating devotion, had become too love-struck, too consumed by Dutch, utterly devoid of a life beyond him. Such a path, Dutch knew, could only lead to increasing paranoia, suspicion, and ultimately, self-destruction.

"Very good, Mr. JD!" Dutch's gaze shifted to the robust security chief. "The factory's security, during this period, needs to be prioritized even more fiercely! Our personnel numbers are swelling significantly, far beyond what they once were, and we need to ensure the absolute safety of our employees so that more people will be drawn to us by our growing reputation for security and prosperity!"

"Understood, Mr. Van der Linde!" JD nodded rapidly, his respect and fervor for Dutch almost visibly bursting forth from him. His current life, compared to his previous existence, was like heaven and earth. He used to toil on a ranch, struggling just to put food on the table, with no money for his child's education or his wife's chronic ailments.

But ever since he had joined the Hope Factory, a miracle had occurred: his wife's illness had been cured, his son now attended school in Saint Denis, and his daughter and wife had also found gainful employment at the factory.

The three of them, he reflected, didn't even have to work particularly hard each day, their quality of life had soared, and their wages were unbelievably generous. His family of four's fortunes had instantly catapulted into the upper echelons of comfort. Mr. Van der Linde even planned to open a school right here in Valentine! If Mr. Van der Linde's school was built, his children could return to Valentine for their education, a thought that filled Mr. JD with an almost unbearable excitement.

He now wished he could prove his unwavering loyalty, to repay the immeasurable kindness bestowed upon him. This, Dutch knew, was the terrifying, yet profoundly effective, power of indoctrination: cultivating every single person in his employ into a loyal, fanatical devotee. It was a frightening, yet necessary, tool.

"Alright, gentlemen!" Dutch announced, his voice ringing with finality, "These are our arrangements for the immediate future. Whether it's the Wright Brothers and their wondrous flying machines, or Marko's groundbreaking machine research, whether it's the strategic construction of bunkers, or the continuous recruitment of our valiant gunmen – every single endeavor, every single effort, is meticulously designed to prepare us for our grand entry into Guarma!"

He paused, allowing his words to echo in the minds of his listeners. "So I implore you all, complete your work with utmost dedication! And I promise you, our Van der Linde Gang will continue to flourish, to ascend to ever greater heights, solely through your unwavering efforts!"

Dutch then turned to Mr. Strauss, his face softening slightly. "Mr. Strauss! Everyone's monthly allowance is now increased to a magnificent one thousand dollars! I believe everyone can now truly go and enjoy life, happily and without a single worry!" A ripple of excited whispers and murmurs swept through the room.

"And Arthur! Charles! John!" Dutch's voice suddenly sharpened, his gaze becoming intense, almost predatory. He gestured towards the three men. "The three of you, follow me, my children. It is time. It is time for the final, decisive demise of those two damned, festering families in Rhodes! As the only significant town situated between our burgeoning Valentine and the great Saint Denis, I simply cannot tolerate having no control over Rhodes; it fills me with a profound sense of… insecurity!" His face, already prone to cunning, twisted into an expression of fierce, unadulterated malevolence. He looked like a wolf scenting blood.

"Alright, Dutch," Arthur nodded, a grim satisfaction settling over his features. He clapped John and Charles on the shoulders, a silent command for them to prepare. "Is this the… the 'beheading plan' you mentioned, Dutch?" he inquired, his voice low. Dutch had first proposed this audacious "beheading plan" for Rhodes way back when they were constructing Shady Belle, a distant memory that now seemed chillingly relevant.

Dutch nodded, his expression grave, almost somber. "Yes, child. Although it sounds rather… evil… to our sensibilities, this is currently the only truly effective way to secure control over Rhodes. Those two damned families, Arthur, have been deeply, inextricably entrenched in Rhodes for over a hundred years, weaving an unbreakable economic chain that binds the entire town. Only by systematically eliminating all direct descendants of both families will they truly, irrevocably decline. Only then can Rhodes, a town suffocating under their tyranny, truly accept outside forces, truly be brought into our fold."

He sighed, a heavy, almost weary sound, as if carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Actually, Arthur, we are also doing good here, my boy. One of those damned families traffics exclusively in illegal liquor, poisoning the town from within. The other? They sell nothing but marijuana, turning even the children of Rhodes into addicts. They are indoctrinated from a young age to obey the Gray Family, a family that has effectively transformed everyone in Rhodes into a smoker, a slave to their vile trade! This, Arthur, is simply a contemptible affront to American federal law, a festering wound on the body politic!"

Dutch's eyes hardened, a cold, righteous fury burning within them. "For the sake of Rhodes, Arthur, and for our own vital interests, these two families must be utterly, completely, annihilated!" Comparatively, Signor Bronte, with his ludicrous theatrics, could be killed or not; Dutch even harbored a strange, perverse affection for his clownish antics. But the two families in Rhodes? Their eradication was an absolute, unnegotiable imperative. They were, quite simply, too deeply rooted, too thoroughly entrenched. Under their suffocating level of control, Rhodes offered no possibility whatsoever for infiltration or subtle manipulation.

They could only be utterly disrupted, torn down, and then meticulously reorganized. It was the Van der Linde Gang's most common, and most effective, trick: flipping the entire damn table.

"Arthur," Dutch concluded, his voice now a solemn, almost prophetic whisper, "killing them will undoubtedly bring hardship to the current generation of Rhodes's people. There will be turmoil, there will be fear. But, my boy, under our management, under our guiding hand, their descendants' lives will only, profoundly, get better.

If we leave them to their devices, Rhodes will forever be controlled by these two shameless, parasitic families, and its people will never, ever, be able to rise up! Rhodes, Arthur, is not merely sick; it is completely, irredeemably rotten!"