"Alright, gentlemen, without further preamble, I shall now assign your tasks."
Dutch's voice, a whip-crack in the morning air, commanded the attention of the assembled gang. Their expressions were a kaleidoscope of raw emotion—disbelief, excitement, and a thrill that bordered on terror. What Dutch had just laid before them was terrifying in its ambition, yet for these desperadoes, it was a siren song. The vision of becoming arms dealers, of robbing whatever they desired with impunity, sent a jolt of adrenaline through their veins. One by one, their eyes fixed on Dutch, burning with eager anticipation, awaiting his command.
Danger? Their lives had always been a tightrope walk over an abyss. Their past gains paled in comparison to Dutch's current, breathtaking vision. Danger was irrelevant.
Dutch surveyed the invigorated faces before him, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.
"Hosea," he began, his gaze settling on his old friend, "you and John will spearhead the recruitment of workers and the construction of our factories. Our clothing factory building must rise first. As for the necessary machinery, I trust Ms. Dorothea will prove invaluable in acquiring it. For all expenditures, consult Strauss; I've entrusted him with the gang's entire financial management. And pay meticulous attention to the construction of the female workers' living quarters. Our accommodations must be exemplary; each woman, at the very least, must have her own private room. This is paramount for future recruitment, a guarantee of our burgeoning reputation, and a crowning achievement to present to the ladies of the women's rights assembly. I desire nothing less than for our factory's living standards to make every woman in Saint Denis clamor to work here. This, my friends, is how we build our brand reputation!"
"Understood, Dutch." Hosea nodded, his earlier reservations banished. His past confusion regarding Dutch's focus on women's rights had evaporated after his recent interaction with Ms. Dorothea. Upon reflection, he now saw Dutch's genius. A long-lost, invigorating excitement now stirred his old bones, so powerful it compelled him to fantasize about a beautiful future alongside these young men and women.
"Trelawny," Dutch continued, his voice resonating with authority, "beyond the women's rights assembly, other vulnerable groups, particularly veterans, will be crucial to our success. So, sir, I require you to employ your impeccable communication skills to cultivate strong relationships with these struggling veterans. Seek out the whereabouts of skilled individuals among them, laying a vital foundation for our future recruitment. Furthermore, I need you to take Bill and establish a Veteran's Club in Valentine. This club will serve as a sanctuary for veterans, offering free, simple food and drinks – nothing lavish, just edible – a place for them to rest. Use this to win their hearts, to earn their loyalty."
"As you wish, Mr. Dutch," Trelawny bowed, a perfect gentleman, his elegant movements betraying no objection to Dutch's elaborate schemes. He thrived on such dealings, his unique expertise now fully utilized. He was genuinely content.
"Davey, Mac, Reverend Swanson." Dutch's gaze shifted to the two rough men and the weary cleric. "I need you to acquire spacious houses in Strawberry, Valentine, and Rhodes—these will be the locations for our clothing stores. My requirement is clear: these houses must be expansive and situated in bustling areas. Renovate them into double storefronts: the street-facing side, a meticulously decorated clothing sales area; the back, transformed into a comfortable resting space for patrons. Our allies, the feminist ladies, will also find refuge there, enjoying a complimentary cup of coffee. You can look for post offices in these towns; Ms. Dorothea will have sent letters there that may assist you. And Reverend, this work should help alleviate your… spiritual burdens."
"Alright, Dutch!" Davey, Mac, and the Reverend nodded in unison.
"Karen, Mary-Beth, Tilly, Jenny, ladies," Dutch's voice softened slightly, a benevolent tone for the women. "Perhaps you could acquire some animals to adorn our ranch. It would be a disservice to leave such a magnificent ranch shed empty."
"Okay, Dutch!" Jenny chirped, her enthusiasm boundless. She was Dutch's unwavering disciple now, ready to push him forward even if he hesitated.
"Javier, Lenny, Charles, Sean. You will accompany Hosea. Find workers, and begin the construction of our other ranch. That, my friends, will become the very foundation of our future security company."
Dutch paused, his eyes sweeping over the eager faces. His voice then hardened, laced with an undeniable gravity. "Alright, gentlemen, ladies. Our lives are now irrevocably on track. To ensure our prosperity is not jeopardized by unforeseen issues, and to perfectly align with our grand design, I must implement certain controls for you."
"First, you will not engage in conflict, nor will you draw your weapons unnecessarily. Our current existence demands stability; we must avoid attracting the attention of the Pinkerton Detectives at all costs. Second, when you are out in the world, you will respect ladies, respect veterans, and indeed, respect everyone. You will present to the outside world a demeanor that is gentlemanly, humble, and enthusiastic. You must cultivate a reputation as kind, straightforward people, ensuring your good name spreads far and wide. I will tolerate no whispers, no accusations of my members being scoundrels when we finally meet with our feminist allies. Such a perception would pose a catastrophic threat to our plans! That is all I have to tell you for now, gentlemen. Until we possess the absolute strength to act recklessly, it is imperative that we remain low-key."
Dutch's decree, a chilling ban on unnecessary violence, hung in the air. Had the Dutch of the original story been this calculating, this disciplined, the Van der Linde Gang would likely never have been targeted and annihilated for a string of spectacular crimes. This weapon ban, however, was merely a temporary measure, a strategic choice until he achieved full establishment. Once his arms trade truly began to flourish, then, if Dutch were to casually kill a man in the street, the President of the United States, and indeed the entire American public, would likely praise his exquisite marksmanship.
The gang members, their spirits soaring, followed Dutch's instructions, riding out from their new home. The women, especially, screamed and shouted with unadulterated joy as they rode. They were truly happy, ecstatic that their lives had, in an instant, stabilized, a stark contrast to their relentless, exhausting wandering.
Hosea and his group rode together, a small caravan of newfound purpose. Karen, astride a tall, sturdy horse that hilariously contrasted with her voluptuous physique, let out a booming cheer. "Ooh-hoo! Jenny, I never thought, I truly never thought, we would simply settle down like this! It's so strange, you know, this feeling… it's utterly indescribable! Seriously, I won't even be able to steal anymore!"
Jenny, perched on a smaller mare, laughed, a sound of pure delight. She turned to Karen. "Hahaha, I knew Dutch could do it! I've believed in him since the day he saved me, and I still believe in him now!"
Mary-Beth, smiling softly, wrapped her arms around Karen's waist from behind, reaching out to give her a playful pinch. "Alright, Karen, haven't you seen Bill's face? I think he's the most bewildered one of all right now!"
"Oh, Mary-Beth, don't mock me," Bill grumbled, rubbing his nose, attempting to mask his embarrassed thoughts. "I admit it, I truly am quite dazed. You know, I've been with Dutch for a long time, and I thought I had a handle on his general ideas, but now… it seems Dutch truly lives up to his name. None of his thoughts are things I can possibly fathom!"