Chapter 47: The Party (Part Two)
Arthur had never expected to hear such a fiery speech; it felt as though every drop of blood in his veins had been ignited at once.
It surged through him like a flood, leaving him in a state of excitement he had never known before.
So much so that he had already forgotten how those three men had mocked him moments earlier.
Meanwhile, Johnny sank deep into memory.
Since setting foot in Valentine, everything he had gone through flickered past his eyes like a film reel.
First, Dutch had offered to buy him a tent, raising his standing almost to that of a second-in-command.
Then came this very moment, when Dutch singled him out for praise in front of the whole camp.
Johnny knew perfectly well that Dutch was deliberately building his reputation and popularity.
How could he remain unmoved in the face of such kindness and careful planning?
He certainly wouldn't stand by and watch Dutch perform this act alone while he played the spectator.
So Johnny drew a deep breath and shouted:
"Oh, friends, don't make me out to be some hero. Honestly, what draws me is Mr. Dutch's incomparable charisma!
To me he is like a mirror image of myself—brave, steadfast, determined to crush the oppression the Capitalists heap upon us, and ready to act without hesitation.
I, by contrast, have only toyed with similar thoughts in my head, never going further.
So the little I've done is nothing compared with the debt we all owe Dutch!"
At that moment the camp seethed with thoughts like a rising tide.
Sean, the guest of honor, had never imagined that in his brief absence the Gang would produce such a dazzling new star.
On the other side, Kieran seemed trapped in another world, his body shaking with terror.
He knew the pattern: whenever Dutch began to speak, something bad always followed.
According to Bill, Dutch once gave a speech up in the mountains and an ODriscoll Gang member lost his life on the spot.
The second speech had been worse: over a hundred men, Colm included, were slaughtered.
The third speech, to rescue Sean, had ended with a whole troop of Bounty Hunters cut down.
Kieran could only wonder who would fall under the blade this time—himself, perhaps?
Once that dreadful thought sprouted, it spread like wildfire, pushing him to the edge of despair.
At that crucial instant, kind Mary-Beth slipped over unnoticed, a can and a bottle of beer in her hands.
She set them gently in front of Kieran and patiently fed him.
Then, like a soft breeze, she drifted away again.
That tiny act, to a man on the brink, was a ray of light in the dark, giving him the courage to go on living.
Back at the heart of the camp, Mary-Beth threaded through the crowd until she found Johnny, radiant as a moon among stars.
She stepped up carefully and placed the novel he had longed for into his hands.
Joy and gratitude flashed in Johnny's eyes at the sight of the book.
He accepted it, thanked her hastily once more, and turned to seek Trelawny.
Because of one small butterfly wing-beat—news of the train robbery spreading—Trelawny, fearing Cornwall, had nonetheless come to the party.
When Johnny finally squeezed through to him, he steadied his breathing and said solemnly:
"Mr. Trelawny, I need to discuss something vital in private and ask for your help."
With that he handed over the novel.
Trelawny took it, glanced at the title stamped on the cover—Serial Killer—and frowned.
Before he could open it, Johnny continued:
"This book tells the story of the serial murderer still at large.
I plan to use it to whip up public attention and build momentum.
In the end I'll catch the fiend myself and earn a legal, headline-grabbing reputation as a Bounty Hunter!"
He pulled a thick wad of Bills from his satchel—$450 prepared in advance—and pressed it into Trelawny's hand, eyes steady as he waited for agreement.
The sum made Trelawny blink; he knew at once the job was no small matter.
Yet the size of the payment told him the task was crucial and must be done right.
He pocketed the money and promised:
"Rest easy, sir. At dawn tomorrow I'll go to the Post Office and contact my reporter friends in Saint Denis."
From a short distance Dutch watched, curiosity suddenly burning in him.
What goal, he wondered, could make money-loving Johnny part with $450?
Johnny met Dutch's questioning look with calm assurance; he had his story ready.
Smiling, he explained:
"Boss, I've hit on a perfect plan.
Our biggest weakness is reliable police intelligence.
Every scrap of news costs a man his life to fetch.
It's slow and deadly.
But if I become a legendary Bounty Hunter, everything changes.
With that badge I can coax every sheriff for information on the Van der Linde Gang.
And I can take wanted jobs on the side, earning the boys extra cash—killing two birds with one stone."
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