The figure of three hundred dollars wasn't something Davey had pulled out of thin air.
In the clinic's secret room, there had been a ledger—one that recorded every detail of numerous transactions, including bribes paid to the police department.
Earlier, the deputy sheriff had rushed into that same room searching for the ledger.
It was evidence of their collusion with the O'Driscoll Gang.
When Sheriff Malloy saw the deputy come in and give a subtle nod, he realized that Davey didn't have the book on him.
According to the ledger, the O'Driscoll Gang paid the police department two hundred dollars every month.
That might not sound like much, but in those days, it was a considerable amount.
The clinic's illegal drug trade only made so much profit—and with plenty of risk involved—so paying two hundred dollars to the police was already a steep price.
At the time, even the sheriff of Valentine earned only a little more than an ordinary worker—around fifty dollars a month.
Deputies and officers earned even less.
So two hundred dollars was, without a doubt, a generous sum.
Three hundred, however, was enough to outbid the O'Driscolls and make Sheriff Malloy truly interested.
"Why should I trust you, Davey?" the sheriff asked, his tone skeptical.
He didn't believe Davey could guarantee three hundred dollars every month. That was no small figure—especially as a steady payment.
The question alone told Davey that his plan was already working.
"Sheriff Malloy, you can ask Doctor Calloway yourself—we're partners in a moonshine business," he said with a confident smile.
"It's far more profitable than those pharmaceutical trades."
"If I'm offering three hundred dollars, you can be sure I've got the means to make it happen."
"And besides—three hundred is just the starting price. Once the business grows, there'll be even more coming your way."
As he spoke, Davey pulled out three wallets stuffed with bills—three hundred dollars in total.
"This is this month's share. I wouldn't dream of letting the department take a loss."
Nothing spoke louder than cash.
Seeing the money laid out before him, Sheriff Malloy's face split into a wide grin.
He scooped up all three wallets and slipped them into his pocket as naturally as breathing.
"You're right, Davey. Those O'Driscoll bastards were nothing but trouble anyway."
Facing the sheriff's cheery grin, Davey reached into his pocket again and produced another bill—this time a hundred-dollar note.
"This first partnership came together rather quickly, Sheriff, and I didn't have much time to prepare," Davey said, smiling as he stepped forward. "This is just a small token of personal appreciation. I hope you won't take it the wrong way."
"Oh, Davey, you really... you're too kind," Sheriff Malloy said, his wrinkles deepening with an unrestrained grin. He hadn't expected such a generous bonus.
In that instant, Davey had become his favorite man in town.
When the two of them emerged from the office, walking shoulder to shoulder and laughing together, the tension that had filled the station evaporated instantly.
Doctor Calloway finally relaxed. He could tell that Mr. Callander had successfully secured the sheriff's cooperation.
The deputy sheriff didn't know exactly what had been discussed, but he understood that from this moment on, the department's relationship with Davey had changed completely.
Davey and Sheriff Malloy chatted like old friends catching up after years apart, laughing and trading stories.
They only parted once they reached the front lobby of the station.
Davey glanced at the deputy and the other officers before speaking.
"Sheriff Malloy, I really do apologize for all the trouble this has caused. You and your men have worked hard today."
"To make it up to you, I'll be hosting a dinner tomorrow evening at Wells Restaurant. I'd be honored if you and the rest of the department would join me."
Wells Restaurant was Valentine's only upscale eatery, with meals costing around three dollars per person.
Including the sheriff and his deputy, there were twenty-seven officers in total—meaning the dinner alone would run close to a hundred dollars.
Sheriff Malloy was absolutely delighted.
Davey wasn't just paying more than the O'Driscolls—he'd given him a personal gift and was now treating the entire station to a fine dinner.
Even the officers, who had looked grim moments ago, perked up at the mention of Wells Restaurant.
Extra income at the department usually went straight to the sheriff and his deputy; regular officers got little more than scraps.
A night at the fanciest restaurant in town was an unexpected luxury.
Then, one officer raised his hand awkwardly and asked, "Mr. Callander… would it be alright if we brought our families?"
The room went silent for a moment.
The question immediately turned the mood awkward.
The other officers glared daggers at the man.
This was Wells Restaurant—there were already twenty-seven of them.
Bringing families? That was out of the question.
Realizing his mistake, the officer stammered, "I—sorry, Mr. Callander. I just… I didn't mean…"
Sheriff Malloy shot him a withering glare.
He'd just pocketed a hundred-dollar gift from Davey, and now this fool had to go and embarrass him in front of everyone.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser