Although Abigail had long heard that Davey was an important figure in Valentine, she had never really understood what that meant.
Her worldview was limited—she had grown up in filthy, chaotic taverns at the very bottom of society.
Even after joining the gang, life only improved slightly—nothing more.
"Good evening, Mr. Callander."
"Good evening, Mr. Callander."
Abigail followed behind Davey, while John walked with Mac and Uncle, chatting and laughing.
As they made their way through the farm, several cowboys on night patrol greeted Davey with respectful nods.
Only now did Abigail truly understand what it meant to be a big man.
Soon, they arrived in front of a large house.
Even at night, the kerosene lamps hanging by the entrance and along the walls revealed just how luxurious it was.
Inside, the wide entrance hall made Abigail feel a little stiff and self-conscious.
A few maids approached, bowing their heads politely as they greeted Davey.
"John, Abigail, your bedroom is on the east side," Davey said. "It's a big room—plenty of space for the two of you to… make a mess."
"But the walls aren't very soundproof, so maybe try to keep it down at night."
"As for our little Jackie, I've prepared a room just for him. Want to see it?"
Little Jackie's eyes lit up.
"I get my own room, Uncle Davey?"
"Why wouldn't you? Our little Jackie is growing up," Davey replied with a smile.
Little Jackie's room was across from John's. Originally designed as a study, Davey had converted it into a bedroom since he stayed on the second floor.
The moment Davey set him down, Jackie ran straight to his small bed, thrilled.
Abigail looked around their bedroom, her eyes shimmering.
It was far beyond anything she had imagined—an en-suite bathroom, a dressing table, a large wardrobe. Everything felt unreal.
"Good. Looks like everyone's happy with the new place. I think you'll grow to love it here."
"It's late, and after the trip from Horseshoe Overlook, little Jackie must be exhausted. Get a good night's rest."
"We'll talk about other matters tomorrow."
Davey patted John's shoulder.
Abigail was still overwhelmed. She stammered,
"Thank you, Davey. I never imagined… oh… I don't even know what to say. I'm just so happy. Thank you—truly."
John also struggled to find words.
Uncle chuckled.
"Trust me, you two will love it here. Davey's place has endless liquor and endless food."
Mac added with a grin of envy,
"Oh, John, you lucky dog. Get your arms around Miss Abigail and enjoy your night."
...
After Davey and the others left, only John and Abigail remained in the room.
"John, look—this curtain fabric. I saw it once in Blackwater. It costs thirty dollars for just one piece."
"And this dressing table—look how beautifully made it is."
"And I can't believe it… our room has its own bathroom, with a real bathtub. We can bathe right here."
"Oh, John… a life like this… I can't even imagine how wonderful the future might be."
"Abigail, come try this mattress. It's unbelievably soft."
"Really, John? Oh… it is so comfortable. John, I love you."
"I love you too, Abigail…"
...
John's arrival also solved one of Davey's problems—he had been short on capable manpower.
Though John had only been a second- or third-tier member in the gang and often relied on Arthur's help,
in the West he was already stepping into the level of a true sharpshooter.
A few ordinary gunmen were no match for him, and his potential for growth was enormous.
In this regard, one had to admit Dutch was an exceptional teacher.
Dutch was a madman fighting against the tide of the era, obsessed with achieving anarchist federal freedom—
yet he was also a remarkably talented instructor.
The Callander brothers, Arthur, John—
Dutch personally taught them everything: reading, shooting, drawing, even ideology.
Meanwhile, Davey's moonshine business was expanding rapidly, spreading farther and farther.
But that also meant he was cutting into other people's interests.
As Dutch had said, the West was a savage place. Robberies and killings happened every single day.
Far from Valentine, many groups also robbed Davey's moonshine shipments.
But unlike other bootleggers, Davey used a distribution-and-retail model that shifted the risk downward.
His own profits were protected—the ones who suffered losses were those lower in the chain.
Two thousand dollars a day was a handsome income.
But once real expansion began, Davey quickly discovered how many places money needed to go—
especially after he established the security company.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser