Chapter 118: Rebuking Abigail
Abigail’s tone carried anger and doubt.
She had gone through so much just to leave the gang and live a simple, peaceful life—so she could raise little Jackie properly.
And so John wouldn’t have to keep doing dangerous work.
But now, Davey was sending John off to fight with another gang.
“Listen, Abigail, this is the West, not paradise. Out here, robbery and killing happen every single day.”
“As long as you live here, you will never be able to avoid those things.”
“Don’t act so naive. Do you really think that just because I had John working as a farmhand, he was suddenly free from danger?”
“If my business gets robbed, no one is spared.”
Davey understood where Abigail was coming from, but understanding didn’t mean agreeing.
To put it bluntly—if he only needed a farmhand, why would he choose John instead of someone else?
Would he really pay three hundred dollars a month for a simple farmhand? That was enough to hire ten men.
A school for little Jackie in Valentine, a comfortable life, a high salary—none of that came for free.
If you want something, you have to give something.
“But Davey… you know… I’m scared…”
Faced with Davey’s sharp tone, Abigail grew flustered and unsure of herself.
At her core, Abigail was a refined egoist. In the game's storyline from her past life, Arthur had saved John countless times. Yet when John wanted to team up with Sadie to hunt down Micah and avenge Arthur, Abigail tried to stop him.
Davey had no intention of indulging her selfishness.
“Abigail, understand this—someone is trying to rob our business. Are you really going to stand there and watch them take what’s mine?”
“This isn’t robbery, and it’s not a crime. This is protecting our property.”
“I pay John three hundred dollars a month, helped him get his Officer Valentine status, paid his ransom—that is his job.”
“And if, when my property is under attack, you tell John not to do his work… then one day when you and little Jackie run into trouble, or a criminal—who exactly is going to help you? And why should they?”
“Abigail, use that foolish little brain of yours and think.”
Abigail lowered her head under Davey’s rebuke, unable to say another word.
She realized now that maybe she was in the wrong.
No one had ever taught her these things before. In her simple mind, peaceful living was all she ever thought about—everything else was a muddled mess.
“I’m sorry, Davey… I never thought about any of this. I just thought… if we could live safely, then everything would be fine.”
Abigail tried to explain—maybe even to make up for it. After all, she and John were now working under Davey.
“Abigail, I understand you. But you also need to understand this—
a place where everyone can live peacefully is called heaven.”
“Just remember: I will never send my brother to die. That’s enough.”
“Alright, go take care of little Jack. From now on, stay out of business and work matters.”
Davey waved her off, unwilling to continue the conversation.
He was heading to Valentine Clinic to check on Donal.
As one of his most capable assistants now, Davey cared about him to some extent.
...
Valentine Clinic.
“My apologies, Mr. Land.” Donal looked grateful yet guilty when he saw Davey arrive in person.
“This wasn’t your fault, Donal. If Laramie dares touch my business, he’ll pay for it.”
“Have you arranged things for those young men who died? If any of them had wives or sons, I’ll take responsibility for their future.”
Davey greeted Doctor Ben Calloway, then spoke to Donal.
“Thank you, Mr. Callander. Gilka had a six-year-old daughter and a wife. Kam only had a fourteen-year-old son working on our farm. The others were bachelors without families.”
Donal gave a brief summary, sadness in his voice. Those men had been with him for years.
In the West, most who joined gangs were loners—orphans or immigrants trying to survive.
Davey nodded. “Once the apartment building is finished, the first unit goes to Gilka’s wife. I’ll be opening a primary school in Valentine soon—his daughter’s tuition will be completely free.”
“As for Kam’s son… if he wants revenge and wants to become a gunman, I’ll have someone train him. If he prefers a quieter life, I’ll find him easy work.”
Donal nodded, deeply grateful.
Doctor Ben Calloway, tending to his wounds, couldn’t help saying:
“A man like you is rare in the West, Mr. Callander.”
In the West, when gang members died, that was the end of it. A headstone was already considered generous. No one cared whether they had wives or children.
Author's Note
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