Chapter 270 - 272
Chapter 270: Blueprint for the World’s Factory
In Davey’s eyes, Milton was a good man.
Even back when he was playing the game, he’d never felt any particular dislike toward him. From the standpoint of justice, Milton had given the Van der Linde Gang more than a few chances. He also stuck firmly to his own principles.
With Milton’s strength and resources in the West, wiping out the Van der Linde Gang wouldn’t have been difficult. Perhaps influenced by Dutch’s conduct, Milton had extended leniency time and again. After all, a gang that took in the elderly and women was a rare sight in the West.
“Long time no see.”
“Mr. Milton. Mr. Ross.”
“I imagine you noticed quite a few familiar faces on your way in.”
Davey smiled.
Among his employees were several former Pinkerton agents. After Pinkerton lost its law enforcement authority, some had been laid off.
As Pinkerton’s chief officer in charge of the West, Milton had spent most of his life with the agency. He knew nearly every agent by face.
“Thank you, Mr. Land, for giving them work,” Milton said sincerely.
Work meant everything to an American. It was how a man fed his family.
After being laid off, former Pinkerton agents had a hard time finding suitable employment. Most could only enlist in the army, but military pay was pitifully low. Many were forced to seek entirely new trades.
Hearing that, the tension in Ross’s expression eased slightly.
“If Mr. Milton were willing to join me instead, that would truly be my greatest honor,” Davey said frankly.
He wasn’t joking. He meant it.
For someone to serve as a senior agent in Pinkerton spoke volumes—not about raw shooting skill, but about management, investigation, intelligence gathering, and coordination. Pinkerton’s senior agents were elite professionals in every sense.
Take his deputy Ross, for example. In the future, he would become Director of the Western District of the Federal Bureau of Investigation—a man of enormous authority.
Ross’s tone turned sharp. “I suggest you abandon that ridiculous idea, Mr. Land.”
He deliberately stressed “Mr. Land,” making it clear Davey shouldn’t indulge in fantasies.
Davey didn’t take offense. He simply smiled.
“Mr. Ross, this is our second meeting.”
“The first was a few months ago in Valentine. You remember.”
“At the time, you swore there was no possibility of cooperation between us.”
“And yet—here we are.”
Ross was left speechless.
Seeing that, Davey added, “I’ll repeat what I told you then, Mr. Ross.”
“You should learn from Mr. Milton. Whatever happens, don’t rush. Stay calm.”
Milton said nothing.
Ross was indeed too impulsive. The young man he held in high regard still needed tempering. Too upright. Too quick to divide the world into black and white. A setback now might do him good.
“Perhaps we should discuss the employment matter, Mr. Land,” Milton said at last.
Davey nodded.
“It concerns my factory equipment. The price isn’t the issue—I simply need it resolved quickly.”
“Our cooperation with Pinkerton is only the beginning. I trust you’ve already reviewed the intelligence. I’m preparing to establish more factories.”
“Future distribution alone will require a great deal of manpower.”
“At present, my Land Security Company doesn’t have the capacity to handle all of that.”
“So our cooperation is mutually beneficial. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Milton replied evenly, “Mr. Land, I should remind you that Pinkerton doesn’t enjoy a good reputation among labor unions.”
In labor disputes, Pinkerton agents were often hired by factory owners to monitor workers. Sometimes they protected strikebreakers, posed as them, or even directly participated in suppressing strikes. Among workers, Pinkerton’s name carried little goodwill.
Even so, employers continued to hire them. In fact, much of Pinkerton’s funding came from industrialists.
In Milton’s view, Davey would likely be no different—another capitalist squeezing labor for profit. After all, could a former robber and killer suddenly become a defender of workers’ rights? That sounded naïve.
“No, Mr. Milton, you misunderstand.”
“I’m not asking you to suppress strikes. My needs are primarily in transportation.”
Davey straightened slightly, a spark of anticipation in his eyes.
“Mr. Milton, the West holds enormous untapped potential. My goal isn’t to open a handful of factories—I intend to turn this place into a true industrial center.”
“Saint Denis has a natural advantage in maritime trade. Through it, we can connect to markets across the world.”
He walked to the window, looking out at the busy scene beyond.
“As the number of factories grows, so will employment.”
“Immigrants who come here won’t just find jobs—they’ll settle down.”
“We’ll build proper infrastructure. Schools. Hospitals. Shops. A complete community.”
“In all of this, workers will be our most valuable asset.”
“I will ensure fair wages and decent working conditions. Only then will they give their full effort—and help drive the West forward.”
“So, Mr. Milton… what exactly is there to worry about?”
“What I need from Pinkerton is simple: ensure the safety of my shipments and their timely delivery.”
“That is my sincerity.”
Milton was momentarily stunned.
The words sounded like a campaign speech—yet they had come from the mouth of a former outlaw.
Still, he couldn’t deny that the blueprint Davey described was plausible. And if realized, it would mean extensive cooperation with Pinkerton.
Pinkerton had over two thousand agents to support. If Davey’s factories reached that scale, he would become their largest client.
After a long pause, Milton said slowly, “Mr. Land, your vision is impressive.”
Davey smiled. “Then, Mr. Milton, it’s time for Pinkerton to demonstrate its capabilities.”
Milton glanced at Ross.
Ross took a contract from his briefcase.
“Within twenty-four hours of Mr. Land signing this agreement, the missing equipment will be returned.”
It was a quiet display of Pinkerton’s power.
They ran the largest private intelligence network in the United States. Tracking down a robbery crew was only a matter of how many resources they chose to deploy.
At this point, Milton had developed genuine respect for the man before him—a former outlaw turned industrialist, perhaps even a future magnate.
After all, Davey had risen from a wanted fugitive to his current position in just a few months.
The United States had never lacked for legends.
And Milton had the distinct sense he might be witnessing the birth of another.
If Davey truly delivered on his promises—creating vast employment opportunities and building comprehensive infrastructure—then he would become a figure of real consequence in the West.
The kind whose slightest move could shake the entire region.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Milton.”
Davey skimmed the contract and signed without hesitation.
The retainer fee was modest—just one thousand dollars.
A very fair price. The case itself wasn’t particularly large.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Land.”
Milton stood and shook his hand.
“I suspect this won’t be our last cooperation.”
At that moment, Ross inclined his head slightly, a silent acknowledgment of his earlier attitude.
There was no denying it—Davey’s speech had impressed him as well.
These were not the words of an ordinary man.
Ross even found himself wondering—if Davey ever ran for office with a speech like that, how many workers would cast their votes for him?
....
Chapter 271: Saint Denis Cannot Tolerate Such an Extraordinary Presence
Davey genuinely wanted to bring Milton under his command.
But he knew that was almost impossible.
Milton had spent most of his life working for the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Nearly his entire career had been poured into it. There was no way he would walk away simply because Pinkerton’s business was in decline.
Besides, Pinkerton treated its senior agents exceptionally well.
Unless Pinkerton went bankrupt, there was little chance of that happening.
And Davey understood clearly—though Pinkerton no longer enjoyed its former glory, it was still the largest detective agency in the United States, with the most extensive intelligence network and the best-armed agents.
Historically, it wasn’t until 1999—more than a century later—that Pinkerton was acquired by a Swedish security company.
Even now, despite shrinking business and waves of layoffs, Pinkerton still maintained two thousand armed agents. It remained a behemoth across the United States.
After Milton and Ross left, Elisa asked in confusion:
“Mr. Land, are we really going to cooperate with Pinkerton?”
Davey smiled.
“Of course. This contract is only the beginning. In the future, I intend to build comprehensive and much deeper cooperation with Pinkerton.”
The decision came to him suddenly.
Setting aside Pinkerton’s influence, the network of connections it possessed was beyond imagination.
If Davey became one of Pinkerton’s key clients, he could use them as an intermediary to connect with high-ranking officials in the East.
That would greatly increase his chances of obtaining the qualifications to establish an armory.
Pinkerton clearly had extremely close ties with the United States War Department. Nearly thirty years ago, it was Pinkerton that uncovered and thwarted an assassination plot against President Lincoln, ensuring he completed his inauguration smoothly.
That alone meant Pinkerton held considerable political resources.
The United States was a nation driven by capital—but political capital wasn’t something you could simply buy.
Of course, the more immediate issue was that Davey didn’t have that many dollars to throw around.
More importantly, Pinkerton’s security services were genuinely necessary for Davey’s factory.
For now, the primary mission of Land Security Company was still to secure Davey’s position and influence in the West—
and to protect his moonshine business.
Two days later...
At Shady Belle, Dutch finally saw his opportunity. He called Arthur and Lenny over, preparing to rob the tram station.
Even though it meant committing a robbery in the middle of a city, Dutch showed not the slightest bit of hesitation. In his eyes, the so-called civilized world was no more civilized at its core.
Arthur was excited. It was his first time pulling a job inside a city.
And not just any city—Saint Denis, the most prosperous and civilized city in the West.
Lenny followed behind them, visibly nervous.
The three mounted up and rode straight for Saint Denis.
What they didn’t know was that the moment they entered the city, they had already been spotted.
“Ha! That stupid Van der Linde. I knew he’d fall right into this trap.”
“Brainless fools—fit for nothing but rutting with bison out on the plains.”
Bronte burst into laughter as soon as he received the news.
He immediately had his men notify Saint Denis Police Chief Benjamin and arrange for officers to arrest these western fugitives.
Then he telephoned the tram station, ordering them to transfer the dollars from the safe at once.
It was a trap from the very beginning.
When Dutch went to scout the tram station, he had already been under Bronte’s watch.
To better lure Dutch into action, Bronte had deliberately placed extra dollars in the safe.
In reality, the tram station’s earnings were nowhere near the tens of thousands Dutch had seen.
It had all been an illusion carefully staged by Bronte.
Davey didn’t interfere with Dutch’s doomed robbery.
It meant nothing to him.
If he stepped in to stop it, Dutch wouldn’t thank him. He’d only believe Davey had sabotaged his plan.
Once prejudice takes root, everything becomes twisted by it.
Davey had originally planned to sit back and enjoy the spectacle.
After all, in the game, it had been quite a dramatic scene.
But a report from his men left him furious.
Some of Donal’s subordinates had secretly skimmed money from the moonshine sales and spent it at an opium den.
The amount wasn’t large—around two thousand dollars in total.
But that wasn’t the point.
It meant there were traitors.
Donal had already arrested them and brought them to Davey’s mansion.
Five men, thin and sickly, knelt on the floor with their hands tied.
“What happened?” Davey asked coldly.
Donal lowered his head.
“My apologies, Mr. Land. It was a Chinese-run opium den in Chinatown.”
“They got addicted. Spent all the money at home. Then they used the funds that were supposed to be turned in.”
“I’ll cover the loss.”
But this wasn’t about money.
It was about betrayal.
Davey glanced at the five gaunt men—three white, two Black.
Then he said, “Explain. What’s going on with these opium dens in Chinatown?”
After the Opium War, the Qing Dynasty was forced to legalize opium, burdened by massive reparations and financial crisis. In search of revenue, local officials and civilians turned to cultivating opium.
In less than twenty years, the Qing Dynasty had shown the Western world what it meant to possess abundant resources.
Large-scale cultivation not only satisfied domestic demand but also fueled extensive exports.
With its high quality and low price, Qing opium quickly captured the global market, making China the largest exporter of opium in world trade.
The enormous profits became a major source of funding for Chinese gangs.
After all, not everyone was willing to exhaust themselves for a few dozen dollars a month while enduring discrimination.
At this time, the United States did not strictly regulate opium. There was no prohibition; it was considered a legal commodity.
Some regions imposed limited restrictions. In San Francisco, for example, smoking opium inside opium dens was illegal, but the sale, import, and other uses of opium were not banned.
In 1890, Congress took its first action regarding opium, mainly by imposing taxes on morphine and opium—but still without prohibition.
So the opium dens in Chinatown operated legally and could even register with the authorities.
“They’re called ‘Anliang Hall.’ It’s run by a Chinese gang.”
“There are seven major opium dens in Chinatown. All of them belong to Anliang Hall. They don’t allow other Chinese to open any…”
Donal stumbled over the unfamiliar Chinese name as he reported what he had learned.
Anliang Hall was founded in the late 1880s by Li Xiling, the first so-called “Mayor of Chinatown” and a Hongmen leader, in the Big Apple City.
Since then, every Chinatown across the United States had an Anliang Hall branch. It was also the largest Chinese gang in Saint Denis.
However, within the United States at this stage, Chinese gangs largely confined their activities to Chinatown and rarely competed with other gangs. Given the Qing Dynasty’s situation, Chinese immigrants occupied a disadvantaged position in the United States.
Davey made his decision quickly.
“Donal, I’m assigning you fifty men.”
“Take them to Chinatown and smash every opium den.”
“Tell them this: from today onward, no one is allowed to run an opium den in Saint Denis.”
...
Chapter 272: Saint Denis Headlines
Davey had long regarded this western land as his own territory.
Especially the city of Saint Denis.
After putting Jean Marc in the mayor’s seat and having Bronte taken out by Dutch,
who in Saint Denis could possibly stand in his way?
Opium was profitable, sure—but it wasn’t sustainable.
Besides, if everyone was smoking opium, who would still have money to buy his moonshine?
Saint Denis was teeming with gangs. A city of several hundred thousand people, including large numbers of immigrants from all over the world, made the law little more than decoration.
In reality, though, most of these gangs were small-time outfits.
To put it bluntly—they were just street thugs.
City gangs couldn’t compare to the true outlaws roaming the frontier. In town, things were usually kept in check. Conflicts between gangs rarely escalated into full-blown gunfights.
Chinatown.
Donal stormed in with fifty hired hands and over sixty Cowboys—more than a hundred armed men in total.
The sight of so many armed white men threw Chinatown into immediate panic.
Donal had been simmering with anger, and now he finally had somewhere to vent it.
“Following Mr. Land’s orders—smash every one of their shops.”
At his command, the hired hands and Cowboys rushed into the opium dens and began wrecking the place.
The hired hands were relatively restrained, sticking to smashing and breaking things.
The Cowboys weren’t nearly so disciplined. With an opportunity like this, why not pocket a little extra?
They began looting the shops outright.
“No—please don’t!”
“Who are you? What do you want?!”
“This is Anliang Hall’s business!”
A few tried to resist, but the moment the hired hands drew their revolvers, they fell silent.
Anliang Hall reacted quickly, gathering their men in short order.
More than two hundred of them surrounded the scene.
Donal didn’t care in the slightest.
Bang!
He fired a warning shot into the air.
“Hey, fellas—take one more step and don’t blame my bullets for having no eyes.”
The street was packed with over two hundred men, yet Donal showed no hint of nerves.
If anything, he looked arrogant.
The Chinese men were holding sticks.
Every one of Donal’s men had a revolver.
“They won’t dare shoot!”
“Let’s fight them!”
“Is there no law left in this world?!”
The men of Anliang Hall were furious. The opium dens were their most profitable business.
Seeing them smashed to pieces overnight, how could they not be enraged?
Donal couldn’t understand a word they were shouting. He simply leveled his revolver at the crowd.
The hired hands and Cowboys gathered around him, guns raised.
The air turned heavy with tension.
At last, a leader stepped forward from among the Chinese.
“Sir, I am Zhang Youde, head of Anliang Hall. Why have you suddenly attacked our gang?”
Zhang Youde’s English was rough and heavily accented, but the meaning was clear enough.
Donal sneered.
“You’ve crossed someone you shouldn’t have. Mr. Land made it clear—starting today, no more opium dens in Chinatown.”
The mention of “Mr. Land” caused an immediate stir.
Davey had some reputation in Chinatown, largely because Chen worked as his personal chef.
A few days earlier, he had also taken in a number of Chinese immigrants.
An employer who didn’t discriminate against Chinese workers was rarer than a panda. Many had hoped to find work under Davey.
“On what grounds?!” Zhang Youde demanded angrily.
Donal burst out laughing. The hired hands and Cowboys laughed along with him.
“On the grounds of the revolver in my hand. Defy Mr. Land’s orders, and you’d better be ready to face his wrath.”
“And next time, it won’t just be your shops getting smashed.”
“Keep going. Smash it all.”
The Cowboys howled with laughter as they continued looting and wrecking the dens. Some of the hired hands stayed in the street, keeping the Anliang Hall men at gunpoint.
Zhang Youde clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms, but he didn’t dare speak again.
“Boss, let’s fight them!”
“Are you insane? They’ve got guns—what are we fighting them with?”
“They’re Mr. Land’s men. They will shoot.”
“Did anyone call the police?”
“Those damn white pigs—the station refused to take our report. They wouldn’t even let our people through the front gate.”
In this era, Chinese immigrants had been stripped of nearly all political rights.
When the Saint Denis police learned it was Davey’s men causing trouble in Chinatown, they didn’t even bother showing up.
They simply drove away the Chinese who tried to report the incident.
As far as the officers were concerned, these people didn’t even have the right to file a complaint.
Yet ironically, Donal’s destruction of the opium dens didn’t unite the Chinese community against him.
Most of them quietly approved.
Anyone with a shred of conscience despised opium. They had only kept silent out of fear of Anliang Hall’s retaliation.
...
At the same time, Dutch began carrying out his plan to rob the streetcar station.
When Dutch, Arthur, and Lenny entered the station masked and ready to rob it—
a swarm of police officers suddenly emerged.
They had clearly prepared in advance.
Arthur forced the staff to open the safe, only to find barely any cash inside.
With police closing in, the three of them jumped onto a streetcar and exchanged gunfire with the officers.
This was far more intense than Donal’s rampage in Chinatown.
The strength of the two Sharpshooters was on full display.
The officers outnumbered them and even gave chase on horseback.
But despite their numbers and heavy fire, their aim was terrible.
Dutch and Arthur weren’t hitting every shot—but every two or three rounds, an officer went down.
The mounting deaths quickly rattled the police. Their hesitation gave Arthur and the others a window to break away.
“Slow this thing down!” Dutch shouted.
The streetcar was going too fast.
Arthur rushed to the controls and fumbled with the levers.
“It’s busted!” he called back.
Moments later, the streetcar derailed. Dutch slammed his head in the crash.
The three men crawled out of the wreckage and immediately reengaged the officers in a gunfight.
Relying on sheer marksmanship, they held off the police assault.
The growing number of dead and wounded officers made the rest increasingly hesitant.
That was the dominance of Sharpshooters—show your head, and you were finished.
For a few dozen dollars a month, who was willing to throw their life away?
In the end, Dutch, Arthur, and Lenny shot their way through two streets, hijacked a carriage, and escaped Saint Denis.
The incident caused an enormous uproar across the city.
Without question, the Van der Linde Gang seized the newspaper headlines.
The Saint Denis Police Department suffered more than twenty deaths and over fifty serious injuries.
Author's Note
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