Had this been the Central Plains, Dutch wouldn't have uttered a word. But this was America, a land where buying a ranch meant claiming the very earth as your own, a fixed asset untainted by the plague of land or property taxes. The more land one amassed, the greater the power. Thus, Dutch was resolute: these two prime locations, at their absolute cheapest, would not slip through his grasp. His vision stretched beyond a mere ready-to-wear factory; he plotted the genesis of a security company. Two ranches, two distinct purposes—a perfect synergy.
Hosea, hearing Dutch's audacious declaration, offered no objection. The 150,000 dollars plundered from Blackwater Town were theirs, liquid and waiting. Two ranches were a trifle. If Dutch wished to buy them, so be it. After all, they were tangible assets, solidifying their future.
Meanwhile, Mr. Bandel, the bank manager, whose ears had been keenly tuned to Dutch's pronouncement, practically glowed with avarice. "Mr. Arthur, dear Mr. Arthur," he simpered, his voice oozing deference, "perhaps I could personally escort you to view these two magnificent ranches? What say you?" Bandel's attitude had instantly become more servile than when addressing his own father.
"Excellent, Mr. Bandel. Let us proceed," Dutch nodded, rising with Hosea.
A specialized bank carriage, accompanied by a small retinue of swift horses, galloped away from the city, churning dust as it bore them towards the sprawling farms beyond. To ensure their safety, Bandel, ever keen on sealing the deal, had even brought along a contingent of bank security personnel as escort. The distance between these two colossal properties was not negligible. While the game compressed the vastness of New Hanover into a day's traverse, in reality, the distances were immense. It took Dutch and Hosea a full, arduous day to conduct even a cursory inspection of the two ranches.
The condition of both ranches surpassed even Dutch and Hosea's most optimistic expectations. Each boasted fully intact houses at its core. Hope's Dream, the medium-sized ranch nestled between Valentine and Strawberry, was particularly impressive, featuring a spacious main house and an adjacent livestock shed. At the very least, the gang could immediately move in and establish their new base.
And as Dutch and Hosea scrutinized their future empire, Arthur's enduring love reached its painful, pivotal moment.
"Sister! Sister!" Jimmy, Mary's younger brother, burst into view, sprinting towards her, his face a mixture of fear and relief. Arthur's stern lecture had clearly left an impression; he was now exceptionally obedient.
"Oh, Jimmy! Jimmy! Come home! Please, your father has been so sad…" Mary cried, relief flooding her features as she embraced her brother. "Oh, Arthur, thank you, Arthur! Oh, darling, let's go back!" She beamed at Jimmy, then repeatedly, earnestly, expressed her gratitude to Arthur.
"It was… good to see you, Mary." Arthur's voice was thick with reluctant farewell, yet he reached out, taking the luggage she offered, and followed them towards the waiting train. His heart was a churning tempest of anxiety. He watched Mary's retreating figure, a desperate plea clawing at his throat, but the words wouldn't come. This true man, this hardened outlaw, was tragically, heartbreakingly reserved when confronted by the raw vulnerability of his own heart.
Finally, as Arthur wrestled with his internal turmoil, Mary and Jimmy ascended the train steps. It was only then that Mary's figure paused, her head slowly turning.
Her eyes met Arthur's, still following behind her, hesitant. Then she spoke, her voice barely a whisper, "Arthur, you… never mind. You'll never change…"
Arthur's soul ripped. Watching the train begin to lumber forward, his agonizing anxiety and indecision finally shattered, overwhelmed by a surge of desperate, urgent feeling.
"Mary, no! No… please, be well, okay? Dutch, Dutch said we're changing professions, we're not outlaws anymore, I… I want to ask you, can we still…?" He stammered, his words tangling, becoming more hesitant, more timid with each agonizing syllable. "Oh, that person is dead too, you see, I'm single again… Perhaps…"
Mary's eyes, wide with sudden, disbelieving hope, locked onto his. "Arthur, is what you're saying true?!"
No sooner had the words left her mouth than the train lurched, gaining speed. Mary, clinging anxiously to the edge of the carriage, poked her head out, her voice a desperate rush, "Oh, Arthur, I need to go back and settle Jimmy first. Shall we keep in touch by letter? Arthur, you know, I also… Oh, Arthur, please give me a definite answer, okay? I really, really need it!"
Her voice faded into the distance as the train pulled away, but the urgency, the raw eagerness in her words, made Arthur's heart soar.
"Mary, I'll write to you!" Arthur jogged a few steps, shouting twice, his voice raw, before slowly stopping, watching the train shrink into a distant speck. But this time, his heart was not consumed by the hopelessness he'd known in the game. Instead, a fiery, nascent anticipation ignited within him. Perhaps. Perhaps he and Mary truly did have a chance!
Arthur's heart was burning, truly ablaze! The potent, intoxicating charm of his first love was driving him to the brink of joyous madness. He slowly reined in his inner fervor, then mounted his horse and rode back to camp. Dutch had declared their departure for Saint Denis tomorrow; he could not linger. Besides, he burned to write to Mary, to tell her everything: their gang's transformation, their new, legitimate path. Perhaps Mary, too, could join them, become a true member of their burgeoning family…
"Hey… ha…" Arthur rode, a lone figure in the fading light, running and laughing, a joyous, inexplicable sound echoing across the plains.
It wasn't until past nine in the evening that Dutch and Hosea officially returned to Valentine.
"Mr. Bandel, thank you for your exceptional hospitality today. Here are five hundred dollars, which should suffice as our reservation. Our remaining funds, however, will be settled tomorrow. And of course, Mr. John will bring our young lady tomorrow to sign the relevant contract. It was a pleasure doing business, Mr. Bandel." Dutch, still astride his horse, removed his hat and bowed deeply, a perfect gentleman.
Bandel was practically effervescent with joy, repeatedly doffing his hat and bowing in return. "Hahahaha, Mr. Arthur, it was an absolute pleasure doing business, sir! Oh, esteemed sir, I shall be eagerly awaiting your visit at the bank first thing in the morning!"
"Very good, sir!" Dutch acknowledged him with a wave of his hat, then spurred his horse, riding back towards the camp with Hosea. A full day spent scouting, and now it was time to finalize the next crucial steps.
"Dutch," Hosea asked, a hint of concern still in his voice as they rode, "we haven't even secured a source for the machinery our factory needs. Is it truly wise to go to Saint Denis now? Can those… those feminist ladies truly be trusted?"
Dutch merely chuckled, shaking his head. "Hosea, you need not worry about that, partner. As long as we concede some profit, those feminist ladies will arrange all the connections we could possibly desire! The only thing we need to do is, when we meet them tomorrow, use my heartfelt sincerity to move their cold hearts."
"Oh, I only hope you don't move the ladies into bed, Dutch. Hahahaha."
"Shit! Hosea, you damn bastard! Your missus will shoot you!"
Their voices faded into the distant night, the moonlight stretching long, smoothing out their figures as they vanished into the darkness.