"Doctor, I've noticed a clergyman conducting charity fundraising around town lately. Do you know anything about it?"
Davey asked casually.
He already knew about Thomas Downes, but he asked on purpose so Mac and John could hear.
Ben Calloway, who was applying medicine to Benedict's leg, replied naturally.
"Sir, you must be referring to Thomas Downes. He's seeking redemption these days—raising money for an orphanage."
"If you're thinking of doing some good yourself, I'd advise keeping your distance. Mr. Downes is suffering from a severe infectious disease—tuberculosis."
"There's no effective cure for that, so I suppose he hopes that by doing good deeds, he'll find peace in heaven after death."
Perhaps out of boredom, Dr. Calloway added with a hint of sarcasm, "Honestly, I can't quite understand Mr. Downes. His ranch was doing well, yet he's pouring every penny into charity.
I've heard he's even borrowing money from others. Poor Mrs. Downes—what will she do once he's gone?"
That was all Davey needed to hear.
After Benedict's treatment, he took the three of them to a restaurant in Valentine for dinner.
In the game of his past life, restaurants weren't a feature. Even if the buildings existed, players couldn't enter them.
But in reality, Valentine naturally had restaurants. With its steady flow of travelers, people needed a place to eat.
Locals, however, rarely ate out—they preferred home-cooked meals.
This particular restaurant looked rather upscale.
It offered pizzas of various flavors, bread, hearty soups, steaks, desserts, and ice cream—paired with a glass of red wine or fruit wine.
The average meal cost around two to three dollars, more than a day's wages for the average laborer.
Only the middle class could afford to dine there.
"Davey, my brother, I can see you've become a man of refinement, while I, your younger brother, remain just a cowboy."
Mac enjoyed his steak, soaking in the unfamiliar atmosphere.
Though they'd once had money, they rarely ate in restaurants, preferring to fill their bellies in saloons instead—with a strong drink to wash it down.
Restaurants rarely served hard liquor, offering only mild wine or spirits with meals.
The diners here were refined, and Mac's rough manners drew frowns from nearby patrons.
But the sight of Davey, John, and Mac was enough to make them think twice about saying anything—especially with John's scarred face looking downright menacing.
Only Benedict appeared slightly less intimidating.
"Once it gets dark, we've got work to do. So let's eat well first," Davey said offhandedly.
When it came to the moonshine business, there was one key step left:
choosing the location for their operation.
Davey intended to make Valentine his base of operations. The town's location was ideal, with plenty of travelers coming and going.
Most importantly, the gang that controlled the area was their sworn enemy—the O'Driscoll Gang.
Unlike the Van der Linde Gang, the O'Driscolls numbered around two hundred, a ragtag bunch of lowlifes.
Aside from Colm's inner circle, most couldn't even ride or shoot properly.
Valentine wasn't Colm's main base, and only a small faction of the gang operated here.
They posed no real threat to the Callander brothers.
The site Davey had in mind for the speakeasy came straight from a side mission in the game's storyline—the serial killer quest.
In that mission, players had to find four clues to locate the killer's hideout—a cellar not far from Valentine.
Davey already knew exactly where that cellar was, so he didn't need any clues.
They decided to wait until nightfall. The place belonged to the killer, and he usually returned only after dark; during the day, he was likely away.
When night came, Davey led John and Mac to the cellar.
As for Benedict, Davey gave him two hundred dollars to buy moonshine distilling equipment.
A basic setup cost about a hundred, but Davey wanted the best—more efficient and reliable tools.
Even moonshine had its differences—flavor, smoothness, and alcohol content varied greatly.
If they were going to do it, they'd do it right. Building a good reputation mattered more than quick profit.
With the general location in mind, finding the cellar wasn't hard.
Above it stood a shabby little shack, easy to spot.
The cellar had a combination lock—in the game, you needed all the clues to open it.
Now, it only took two bullets.
A foul stench hit them as the door swung open. Mac and John went in first, Davey following last.
Inside, they saw piles of skulls—victims—all over the place, along with a few letters.
One was from Edmund's mother, another addressed to a newspaper editor.
They suggested that Edmund's mental state had been unstable.
The cellar wasn't large, about twenty square meters, divided into three sections.
The walls were lined with cleavers, bone saws, and other blades. In the last section lay a headless corpse.
"Damn it, what kind of sick bastard lives here?" Mac muttered, disgusted.
They were killers too, but never ones for senseless cruelty.
Unfortunately, the deranged murderer, Edmund, wasn't there.
Just then, Davey heard a noise coming from above the cellar...