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...
The conflict between Davey and the Braithwaite family was something that could never be resolved.
The Braithwaite moonshine operation wasn't limited to their clan alone—it also connected to Saint Denis, the biggest city in the West. Rhodes Town wasn't far from Saint Denis, and the Gray family's Caliga Hall sat just across the Kamassa River from the city.
Because of that, the two families' rivalry was tied directly to the power struggles surrounding Saint Denis.
Saint Denis was a stop Davey would have to face sooner or later.
And heading to Rhodes Town now was to Davey's advantage, especially since the Van der Linde Gang was based there. In the storyline of his previous life's game, the gang had played both families against each other until everything collapsed.
First, young Jack was kidnapped by the Braithwaite family and taken to Saint Denis. Then Sean was ambushed and killed by the Grays in retaliation.
In the end, the Van der Linde Gang wiped out both families before heading to Saint Denis to rescue Jack.
"Mr. Cartman, take twenty men to Emerald Ranch and protect our business. Also, tell John to return to Land Farm."
"Mr. Dewar, Mr. Laval—security at the farm will be in your hands."
"Mac, bring a few men and come with me to Rhodes."
Davey laid out the personnel assignments.
This wasn't the sort of trip where bringing more men helped. In fact, fewer would make things easier.
They weren't going there to rob or kill outright—that was gang behavior. They were going to break a few things, take a few things, and leave.
Davey, familiar with the plot, was clearly comfortable with this type of work. Of course, when the time came, he would call for reinforcements.
"Mr. Callander, please allow me to go with you. I may be of use."
Laval spoke up suddenly.
"No need, Mr. Laval. I'll call for you if I require anything."
Davey understood his intention—Laval simply wanted to be near him to keep himself safe if anything unexpected happened.
Davey hadn't said it aloud, but everyone in the company already knew he was in the moonshine business. No one minded, so long as they were paid enough greenbacks.
In the West, moonshining was just another illegal trade. As long as you weren't robbing or killing, you were considered a decent person. And for most gunmen, who among them hadn't done something questionable?
As they were about to leave, Davey and his group were stopped by a young boy.
Davey recognized him. He was the son of Mr. Kam, one of the men killed during the Laramie Gang's attack on Emerald Ranch. His name was Levin Kam.
"Mr. Callander, please let me follow you. I want to become a gunfighter and avenge my father," Levin said with unwavering resolve.
Davey looked at the boy. "Levin, I know who you are. Your father died working for me, and that pains me deeply."
"I'll take care of the revenge. That's not a burden a boy your age should carry—understand, Levin?"
"You need to think this through. If you're doing this only for revenge, there's no reason to become a gunfighter. By the time you grow into one, I'll have already taken care of the Laramie Gang."
"Don't answer right away. Think long and hard about what kind of man you want to become."
"Tell me your answer the next time you see me. For now, I need to be on my way."
Davey patted Levin on the shoulder and walked toward the stables, where Kieran had already prepared their horses.
For this trip to Rhodes, Davey brought only three men besides Mac. They had once worked for Pinkerton, and might prove useful in ways others wouldn't.
"He's a good kid," Mac said as they rode. "I think he could become a top gunman—if you're willing to teach him."
"Just like Dutch taught us. He's got potential, doesn't he? I'm sure you saw it too."
To become a top gunman—or a sharpshooter—required more than physical ability or talent. It required conviction.
Conviction was a vague thing, but almost every sharpshooter had it.
Mac had seen that conviction in Levin's eyes.
Skills and strength could be trained. But conviction could not.
"Maybe," Davey replied. "But first he needs to understand what he's doing—and why. Just like when we followed Dutch, remember?"
"He's only fourteen. He needs time to figure himself out."
Davey spoke casually, not overly concerned. He was giving the boy a choice—what he would eventually become was his own path to walk.
...
Meanwhile, back at Land Farm—
Abigail was chatting with Rousseau, Laval's wife.
"I'm curious, Rousseau," Abigail asked. "Why did you want Mr. Laval to go with Davey? Aren't you worried something might happen to him?"