Expansion

Time, flowed onward, carrying Dutch and his retinue at a brisk pace towards the infamous Van Horn Trading Post. For the common folk of Hope Ranch and Valentine, their daily lives, on the surface, seemed to have barely rippled. Yet, beneath that placid facade, a profound transformation was underway: Valentine's population was swelling like a summer storm, and a peculiar new newspaper, birthed from the presses of Hope Ranch, now graced the streets, overflowing with factory updates and Mr. Van der Linde's eternally optimistic, vaguely menacing messages.

"Buy a newspaper, sir! Only two cents!" a scrawny newsboy shrieked, his voice raw but insistent, waving a thick stack of fresh papers like a victory banner on the bustling streets of Valentine.

Valentine's streets had, indeed, become exceptionally, almost ridiculously lively. Previously, the town's sheriff, in a fit of civic-mindedness, had enforced strict regulations, prohibiting private stalls from cluttering the streets, all to avoid obstructing the sacred flow of carriage traffic. But since Mr. Van der Linde, the benevolent tyrant, had taken over, that tiresome rule was summarily abolished.

Now, Mr. Van der Linde had even designed special, free stall placement spots for them, a stroke of genius that allowed desperate Valentine residents to earn a few extra cents, while still ensuring a surprisingly smooth passage for pedestrians and carriages alike. This ingenious little tweak undoubtedly made Valentine's streets even more bustling, more vibrant, with countless individuals hawking ancestral crafts, clumsy handmade goods, or even worn-out household items that probably belonged in a dumpster. With more sellers came more buyers, and Valentine, once a dusty, sleepy ranching town, pulsed with a liveliness it had never known.

"Sir, buy a newspaper! Mr. Van der Linde has important news today!" the newsboy chirped, his eyes gleaming with youthful entrepreneurial zeal, energetically promoting his wares.

Hearing his fervent shouts, a large group of men and women immediately gathered around, like vultures circling a particularly promising carcass. They didn't buy anything, of course. No, they simply stood there, waiting expectantly, their eyes glued to the stack of papers, hoping someone else would fork over the two cents so they could glean the precious news for free.

Finally, under the newsboy's hopeful, almost desperate gaze, a man who had recently settled in Valentine, his face etched with the weariness of endless job hunting, sighed and reluctantly pulled out two cents.

"Alright, kid, give me one," the man grumbled, his voice low, tinged with a hint of desperation. He took the newspaper from the newsboy, his fingers slightly trembling as he unfolded it. "I hope there's news about work in this paper, otherwise my family's money probably won't last for a few more days."

"Whoosh!" Before he could even properly glance at the headlines, a crowd immediately converged, their faces pressed close, eyes staring eagerly at the words.

"Sir, please, read it aloud!" a woman pleaded, her voice raspy. "We can't read, so we can only listen to others read a few lines!"

"Yes, sir, please! We also want to find a job with Mr. Van der Linde, please read it aloud!" another chimed in, practically vibrating with anticipation. As the West was still a place where civilization had not yet fully sunk its teeth in, literacy rates were, unsurprisingly, abysmal.

Seeing the expectant, almost pleading eyes around him, the man sighed, a weary but resigned sound. He had no choice. "Alright, alright," he relented, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender, "but you also have to give this little newsboy some money, otherwise he won't be able to sell anything if I read it all, will he?"

Listening to the man's reluctant terms, the group of eager listeners fumbled around in their pockets for a long, agonizing moment, finally scrounging up a pitiful dozen cents, which they reluctantly handed to the newsboy. Seeing their utterly impoverished state, the man sighed again, a deeper, more empathetic sound, and finally announced, "Alright, I'll start reading now!" The surrounding crowd immediately fell silent, both men and women straining their ears, every muscle tensed, listening intently, utterly captivated.

"Uh… Hope Happiness Factory Newspaper, Issue 3, 1899," the man began, his voice a slow, deliberate drone, trying to make out the words. "Divided into… three sections. Ahem. First section: 'To rectify the city's appearance, Saint Denis city, starting today, prohibits all personal stalls on roads, prohibits anyone from sleeping on streets, and mandates a deadline to improve the image of Glen District (slums) in preparation for the upcoming first Light Assembly (rich people's gathering).'" He paused, a disgusted grimace on his face, then read Dutch's commentary. "'Regarding the rectification regulations of Saint Denis, Mr. Dutch Van der Linde believes: This behavior is simply shameless! All legitimate activities for the purpose of earning a living should be firmly supported!

People selling goods on the streets are doing so to eat, to survive! Not solving their food problem, and merely forcing them not to sell goods, is typical perverse behavior! On the contrary, reasonable solutions… In short, Mr. Van der Linde believes: All municipal actions should only be carried out on the basis of ensuring the people are well-fed!'"

Listening to the man's continuous reading, the people gathered around sighed, a collective murmur of commiseration, lamenting the myriad cruel ways of the world.

"Oh, damn it!" a man grumbled, shaking his head. "These Saint Denis elites are truly inhumane! How well Mr. Van der Linde put it, solving their food problem is the most important thing, not that damned city appearance! What good is a clean street if your belly's empty?!"

"Ah, luckily we in Valentine have Mr. Van der Linde," a woman chimed in, clutching her worn shawl. "Look at the changes in Valentine recently, so many people have set up stalls, unlike before, when even if they starved to death, there were no other ways to make a living."

"Yes, yes, you're right," another agreed, nodding vigorously. "I feel Mr. Van der Linde is better. Ever since he came, our lives have improved. How can we not understand who is truly good to us?"

The man reading the newspaper looked at Mr. Van der Linde's pointed comments and sharp annotations on the Saint Denis incident, and felt a profound, almost personal sense of emotion.

He hadn't known until he came to Valentine, but once he arrived, he realized there was such a good, caring man who genuinely looked out for the common folk. If he had known earlier, he would have dragged his family over long ago, even if he had to tie them to a mule. His consciousness wavered slightly, a brief moment of regret, then he recovered and continued to read the text below.

"Alright, the second section is an interview with workers inside Hope Ranch. Oh, this time it's with a girl named Jennifer. I'll read the specifics to you all. Ahem. Reporter says: 'Ms. Jennifer, have you been living happily lately?' Jennifer: 'Oh, dear lady, does that even need to be said? Is there anyone working at Hope Ranch who isn't happy? You should be asking how happy I am, right?'

Reporter: 'Uh… alright, Ms. Jennifer, how happy do you feel your life is now?' Jennifer: 'Oh, I find it hard to explain how happy I am, madam. I can only say that Mr. Van der Linde covers all my daily food, drink, clothing, and housing. Besides that, I only need to work )

12 hours a day(hey that's overtime), and every evening I can go out and stroll through the market stalls Mr. Van der Linde built especially for us. The twenty-five dollars a month salary can only be spent at these stalls, otherwise I wouldn't know what use I'd have for this money!

Oh, madam, can you understand what I'm saying? Oh, and my child will be attending the school Mr. Van der Linde built next month. Has your child started school?' Reporter: '...'"

As the man read the newspaper content, a strange mixture of emotions swirled within him. The more he read, the more resentful he felt – a bitter jealousy towards Jennifer's idyllic life – and the more his heart yearned, a desperate ache, for Hope Ranch.

He now wished, with a burning intensity, that he could surgically alter himself, become a woman, anything, just to enter Hope Ranch's gates. And the surrounding crowd listened with extreme seriousness, every ear pricked, every breath held.

Everyone's eyes were filled with a raw, undeniable envy, a profound anticipation, and an intense, almost painful longing. Each of them, in that moment, dreamed of entering Hope Ranch, of shedding their misery and stepping into a paradise.

The man, jolted from his jealousy, snapped back to reality; his desire to work at Hope Ranch had reached a fever pitch, an almost violent urgency. However, the newspaper wasn't finished yet, so with a frustrated grunt, he continued reading.

"The third section. It's a recruitment section, fuck!"

The man suddenly gasped, his eyes wide with a new, frantic terror. He instinctively clutched the newspaper, ready to bolt, to run immediately to apply, but by then the surrounding people had completely encircled him, their hands like iron clamps, tightly gripping his clothes.

The urgency, the raw, terrifying desire in their eyes was almost solidified, a palpable force. Scared out of his wits, the man had to abandon the idea of immediately running off to apply first. He bit the bullet, swallowing his impatience, and continued to read, his voice now a desperate squeak.

"Recruitment… Hope Ranch is recruiting. This recruitment will take in two hundred female workers, an unlimited number of gunmen, and a total of five hundred transport workers, laborers, and construction workers (including the husbands of female workers). Three hundred mechanical workers will be recruited, with the factory providing training. Compensation will be discussed in person. Those interested please go to the 'VDL' headquarters in Valentine for an interview.

Additionally: Hope Ranch is looking to purchase cloth, timber, metal, and gunpowder from Valentine and Rhodes. Those who do not pass the interview may attempt this to earn a good income."

Before the man had even finished speaking the last words, the large crowd that had just been surrounding him, a silent, ravenous mob, scrambled madly, a desperate, comical stampede towards the house that served as the 'VDL' headquarters. The man's urgent mood, previously a bubbling cauldron of impatience, now subtly eased. He looked at the last two sentences of the newspaper, the procurement notice, and fell into deep, thoughtful contemplation.

Buying cloth? His wife knew how to weave. Now he just needed to spend some money to buy a loom and some raw materials, let his wife weave, and he could sell it directly to Hope Ranch. A steady income, right from his own home! The man pondered, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face, no longer in a hurry, and turned to walk home, his pace unburdened.

Valentine, with the strategic release of the Hope Factory Newspaper, instantly filled with an almost tangible life and vitality, like a sleeping giant stirring. And this, precisely, was Dutch's cunning purpose in launching this newspaper!

To use the first page to vividly depict the oppression and exploitation inflicted by the outside ruling class, and then, with his own carefully crafted commentary, to highlight Mr. Van der Linde's unparalleled greatness and benevolence.

(Lenin would be proud !)

And when people became utterly, hopelessly disappointed with the outside world, to then use the factory interviews as an irresistible lure, utilizing the factory's excellent, almost utopian conditions to win over hearts, making them all yearn to enter the factory!

This clever interplay of positive and negative, these two ingenious brainwashing methods, almost completely, effortlessly brainwashed the people of Valentine into loyal, devoted followers. And that last section, the recruitment and procurement notice, was Dutch consciously guiding Valentine's inevitable transformation. As long as there was profit, people would do it.

And when one person made money, more people would spontaneously begin to imitate, to follow suit. This way, Valentine would actively transform itself from a sleepy ranching town into a bustling industrial or trading town! Whether from the critical perspective of raw material acquisition or Valentine's overall development, this profound transformation was undoubtedly necessary, undeniably beneficial, and utterly Dutch's.