Dutch and Arthur spotted Sheriff Malloy in the distance, still lurking outside the Valentine Police Station, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers. "Oh ho ho ho, Mr. Malloy certainly has good taste," Dutch drawled, a cunning smile playing on his lips as they approached.
At the sound of Dutch's voice, Sheriff Malloy's head snapped around. Recognizing Dutch, he instantly flung his cigarette to the ground, scurrying forward with a fawning grin. "Oh, it's Mr. Arthur! Mr. Arthur, a smoke? Mr. Hosea, you too! Mr. John, you too!" The Sheriff fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his own pack, eagerly offering them to Dutch, Arthur, and Hosea. He even produced matches, respectfully lighting them for the trio.
"Oh, Mr. Arthur, I haven't seen you in some time. I've recently acquired a fresh batch of moonshine; I'll arrange a carriage to deliver it to you later. Come, Mr. Arthur, please, step inside the station and rest for a spell! Jack! What are you dawdling for? Get over here and serve some coffe to Mr. Arthur and the others!" Malloy's compliments swelled, his gaze fixed on Dutch's elegant attire, his face blooming like a grotesque chrysanthemum.
"Oh, moonshine? Hahaha, then my sincere thanks, Sheriff Malloy! I spent the past two days in Saint Denis, engaging in critical discussions with the ladies of the Heidi Family, the Lemieux Family, and the Wicklow Family regarding the opening of the clothing store. You understand, with the backing of their three powerful families, it was only proper to keep you informed." Dutch chuckled, allowing Malloy to usher him into the police station.
At Dutch's words, Sheriff Malloy's already bent back became even more pronounced, his fawning smile stretching impossibly wide. "Oh, I understand, Mr. Arthur must be utterly exhausted. Come, come, please, be seated!" Malloy practically dragged his own chair from behind his desk, respectfully placing it behind Dutch, helping him settle.
Dutch smiled, extinguishing the cigarette he'd just lit. He looked at Sheriff Malloy. "Not too tired, Mr. Malloy. Upon my return from Saint Denis, those three ladies bestowed upon me a generous amount of tobacco and alcohol. Mr. Malloy, you are my friend, and naturally, I must share a portion with you."
"Hosea!"
Arthur, instantly understanding, handed over a carton of high-grade cigarettes and two exquisitely packaged bottles of fine, aged wine.
"Oh ho ho! This is truly too precious, Mr. Arthur!" Sheriff Malloy's eyes widened at the sight of the elaborately packaged, utterly luxurious gifts, items he'd never even dreamed of possessing. He was so overwhelmed he could barely close his mouth.
A sense of profound honor swelled within him. These are cigarettes are of excuisite quality! Gifts from a magnate whom even the most powerful families of Saint Denis curry favor with, yet he came specifically to bestow these upon me! And he acknowledges our friendship! Sheriff Malloy gazed at the high-grade tobacco and alcohol, almost hyperventilating with ecstasy.
The cigarettes, encased in a wooden box lined with golden brocade, adorned with delicate carvings, were works of art in themselves. The wine, in its heavy, carved wooden box, glittered with gold dust.
A humble officer like Malloy had never seen such extravagance; his eyes were practically glued to the treasures! He clutched them carefully, as if handling fragile, priceless artifacts.
Dutch savored Malloy's reaction, profoundly satisfied. Only then did he state his true request.
"Mr. Malloy, Ms. Ann from Saint Denis has arranged a private train for me to transport goods, free of charge. But as you know, Hope's Dream Ranch is quite a distance from Valentine. Transporting these goods will require considerable time and multiple trips. I'm concerned that the O'Driscoll Gang or some other opportunistic group might threaten my transport team along the way. So, I was wondering if it might be possible…"
Before Dutch could finish, Sheriff Malloy shot to his feet, his face etched with grim determination. "Damn! Mr. Arthur, your goods cannot suffer any losses! A great businessman such as yourself absolutely must not be harmed! These damn thugs, these damn bastards, oh, Mr. Arthur, they will undoubtedly attempt to seize your goods at the first opportunity! Jack! Jack! Summon the deputy sheriff, assemble thirty of our Valentine officers, and get to the train station immediately to escort Mr. Arthur's goods!!!"
Sheriff Malloy's face was now a mask of unwavering solemnity, sharp as a drawn blade, radiating pure fury.
Dutch also rose, extending his hand. He grasped Sheriff Malloy's hand, shaking it firmly. "Thank you for your invaluable assistance, Sheriff."
"Nonono, Mr. Arthur, it should be me thanking you for your profound trust in the Valentine Police Station!"
Dutch and his group emerged from the police station, personally escorted by Sheriff Malloy, with thirty mounted officers, rifles glinting in the sun, already patrolling the train station, awaiting the arrival of the goods they were sworn to protect.
But this display of force, Dutch knew, was still not enough. Each sewing machine alone cost one hundred dollars—one hundred machines totaling ten thousand dollars. Even sold on the black market, each would fetch eighty. This staggering sum was more than enough to incite the O'Driscoll Gang to mobilize on a massive scale.
Even the Van der Linde Gang, had they not changed their ways, would never have ignored such a colossal influx of funds and goods. Therefore, an impregnable security measure was not just necessary, it was absolute.
Not only were thirty officers deployed for the escort, but twenty newly recruited gunmen from the gang's camp, their own weapons drawn, rode alongside them. Concurrently, several of the newly hired female workers had husbands with formidable marksmanship; these men were immediately integrated into the security detail, provided with rifles, and tasked with guarding the precious cargo.
Furthermore, the core of the Van der Linde Gang—Dutch himself, Arthur, John, and Davey—personally oversaw the rear, ensuring the flawless progress of the transport.
The total number of escort personnel swelled to an imposing eighty to ninety individuals. An escort team of such staggering scale unequivocally broadcasted the immense power of the goods' owner. Small gangs and petty factions within Valentine would not dare entertain any treacherous notions. And while the O'Driscoll Gang likely received the intelligence, they ultimately remained in hiding, wisely choosing to avoid a direct confrontation.
It took a full, grueling day of relentless transportation to finally deliver all one hundred sewing machines back to Hope's Dream Ranch. The five sprawling wooden sheds, meticulously prepared, were more than sufficient to fully house every single sewing machine, providing the female workers ample space to commence their labors.
"Arthur, go give each of those officers a one-dollar tip, son. People will only rush to help you if there's tangible profit to be made. If there's no gain every time, even if they assist you out of sheer respect for your status, their efforts will be half-hearted, a mere pantomime." Dutch instructed Arthur, his voice a low, knowing murmur.
"Okay, Dutch." Arthur nodded, accepting the money bag from Strauss, then walked towards the group of resting officers.
"Ms. Grimshaw, please take our ladies and arrange accommodation for all the female workers, and meticulously register them. Their meals will remain the responsibility of those gunmen's wives. Oh, Pearson, Uncle, and a few other ladies, you all should take charge of purchasing supplies for now. Especially you, Ms. Sadie, pull yourself together! You still have vengeance to seek, lady!" Dutch's voice cut through the air.
"Okay, Dutch!" Ms. Grimshaw led the women of the gang towards the newly constructed accommodation, her face resolute.