The banquet came to an end.
Davey left in a carriage with Stella by his side.
Today's gathering had been a great success for Davey.
He had struck up a solid friendship with Hector Fellowes, the owner of a Western newspaper.
He had also reached a cooperative agreement with Jean Marc.
Neither of them was aligned with Bronte, which would make things much easier going forward.
As for Bronte, Davey didn't give him much thought.
According to the original storyline, it wouldn't be long before Bronte met his end at the hands of an enraged Dutch.
After that, Guido Martelli would take over as the new mafia boss of Saint Denis.
Martelli was nothing like Bronte.
Bronte might have been arrogant and self-important, but he had a real head for business and a sharp sense for reading the situation.
Martelli, on the other hand, was just a thug, capable only of handling under-the-table work. He posed little real threat to Davey.
"It looks like you're quite satisfied with tonight's banquet, Davey,"
Stella said, noticing the smile at the corner of his mouth.
"Of course, Stella. This banquet was definitely worth coming to," Davey replied.
"Most of it was boring, sure, but there were at least a couple of people who'll be useful to us."
"At the very least, the next time we run notices in the papers, Mr. Fellowes will give us a discount. That saves us a fair bit of money, doesn't it?"
Davey joked lightly. These days, his operation was vast, and his moonshine business was bringing in money by the cartload every day.
The cost of a few newspaper ads was nothing to him, barely worth mentioning.
Plans succeeded best when kept secret, and even though he trusted Stella deeply, Davey had never been in the habit of sharing his schemes with anyone.
"It really does save quite a few dollars. Maybe enough to buy me plenty of coffee," Stella said with a smile.
"I had a good day too. Several ladies have already decided to hire me as their company's private legal advisor."
"Of course, maybe what they were really interested in was this evening gown I'm wearing."
"Miss Camilla MacLeir thought her hat would steal the spotlight tonight, but it clearly can't compete with my dress."
"Looks like I'll be bringing you plenty of orders for your new factory. Though I have to admit, her hat really was beautiful. She told me she bought it from Mr. Wasp."
"Mr. Wasp is the top milliner in Lemoyne. Maybe we could work with him—he knows almost all the ladies in Saint Denis."
Stella spoke animatedly, clearly excited about her ideas.
Although she was a lawyer by profession, under Davey's influence she had come to realize that doing business brought in money far faster than practicing law.
And because of Davey, she wanted to do even more to help him.
"Sure. Maybe we should go have a talk with this Mr. Wasp," Davey said.
"Or you could handle it yourself—get him to bundle his hats with our clothing for sale. That could bring in quite a few orders."
"Stella, I trust you can handle it well, can't you?"
Davey smiled. Stella really was capable—after all, she was an outstanding graduate. Her outlook and understanding were far beyond that of ordinary people.
By now, she was handling a large portion of his business.
Without her, Davey wouldn't be nearly this relaxed.
"Of course, Davey. I'll take care of it. Just watch," Stella said confidently.
"If I bring you enough orders, you'd better give me a commission."
Davey laughed, slipping an arm around Stella and pulling her into his embrace.
"Of course, my Miss Stella."
...
Shady Belle camp.
Arthur woke from his sleep.
Dutch was already standing by his bedside.
"Interesting times,"
Dutch said with a smile, referring to last night's banquet.
"Yeah," Arthur replied.
"What's next, dance lessons?"
"Etiquette classes?"
Arthur had clearly not enjoyed the previous evening.
Maybe, just as Bronte had said, he preferred the kind of days where disagreements were settled by drawing a gun.
"Lessons in armed robbery," Dutch said.
"Hosea's handling reconnaissance on the bank."
"He and Bill are going to stir things up a bit."
"See how the police respond."
Arthur put on his hat.
"Good."
Dutch suddenly remembered the banquet again.
"Oh, I spoke with Evelyn Miller," he said.
"Good man."
Arthur knew who he meant. Evelyn Miller was a renowned writer, and Dutch was a devoted admirer.
Whenever Dutch read, it was usually Miller's works—American Purgatory and American Eden.
Those two books had influenced Dutch deeply.
Being able to meet Evelyn Miller at the banquet had been the fulfillment of a long-held wish, a chance to meet his idol in person.
"He's here to help with the Indian chief we saw," Dutch said.
Arthur nodded. "Yeah, I saw him too, with the mayor."
Dutch went on, "He's lobbying the Saint Denis officials on their behalf."
"Maybe we could help?"
As a fan, Dutch still wanted to do something for his idol, and it had little to do with the Indians themselves.
"Maybe," Arthur replied indifferently.
He had no real interest in that sort of thing, especially dealing with officials.
Seeing this, Dutch dropped the subject of Evelyn Miller.
"I think there's a lot of money on that cruise ship," he said.
"A lot of money."
"Trelawny's looking into it for us."
"He said to meet him at the tailor's."
Hearing there was a target, Arthur became much more attentive.
"Alright."
Dutch began to fire him up.
"We pull off one big job here, Arthur, then we disappear."
"We're almost home."
Arthur turned his head. "Where's home?"
Dutch stepped out onto the balcony, stopping in the sunlight.
"I… I'm not entirely sure," he said slowly.
"But I can smell it now."
"Alright, I'm going to look into that tram Bronte mentioned."
"Could be a decent target."
...
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