Chapter 162: The Banker's Arrival
Land Farm.
Hosea was leisurely savoring a cup of freshly brewed coffee.
The coffee shop hadn’t opened yet, so the barista and pastry chef were practicing their craft at Land Farm, paid in advance by Davey.
Seeing Davey return from his trip, Hosea smiled and said,
“Davey, this coffee is truly remarkable—probably the best I’ve ever had.”
“That young man said it’s the famous Blue Mountain coffee. Quite pricey, one of the finest varieties out there. It really does have a unique flavor.”
Davey shook his head.
“I’m not much of a coffee drinker. I prefer tea—those rare leaves shipped all the way from the distant East. They’re worth their weight in gold.”
“Black tea with milk and sugar cubes—that’s the flavor I like. I’m planning to have the barista experiment with some specialty milk teas. Could be a promising market.”
Hosea chuckled.
“Well, I’ve noticed that whatever we talk about, you always manage to bring it back to business, Davey.”
“That’s not a bad thing, though. Maybe I should try some myself.”
“For an old man like me, life gets monotonous. New things always help liven it up.”
Davey said,
“Once you finish that cup, we’re heading to Valentine Station. That banker, Mr. Nathan Kirk, should arrive in about two hours.”
“I already have people waiting for him, but going in person shows proper sincerity.”
Selling bonds was a top priority for Hosea—this was about a large sum of American dollars.
Hearing the man would be here soon, Hosea straightened up and set out with Davey.
During Davey’s time away, Hosea had gotten a full picture of his business operations.
And the more he learned, the more stunned he became.
Behind the farmhouse mansion was a full shooting range. John and the other employees trained daily in marksmanship and horsemanship, including firing while mounted.
This wasn’t a simple gang anymore. Retired soldiers were training the staff with military discipline.
Hosea had watched the drills—aside from Uncle lounging around with a drink, everyone else worked hard, John included.
Before meeting Hosea, Davey had already interviewed the Germans introduced by Emin. They were all skilled, some from long lines of military families. Every one of them was a solid soldier.
Most importantly, discipline came naturally to them—as if carved into their bones.
For a leader, obedience and loyalty were even more important than marksmanship.
A sharpshooter might handle a dozen enemies alone, but a trained, coordinated squad of twenty professional soldiers could take down that same sharpshooter with ease.
Granted, that assumed superior numbers—but Davey clearly had that advantage.
With his moonshine business expanding through Rhodes Town, Davey needed more men to protect it.
He’d offended quite a few people—especially the owners and shareholders behind major liquor brands. They were already watching him.
The West didn’t have much population, but a bootlegging network spanning three states—and actively pushing rival brands out—was enough to put everyone on alert.
They might even start donating funds to the government, hiring more federal agents to crack down on moonshine operations like Davey’s.
But that would take time. The federal bureaucracy was infamous for being slow; even if they started now, nothing would happen for at least a month or two.
...
Valentine Station.
Nathan Kirk stepped off the train with his luggage.
Not long ago, he’d received a letter from his younger brother about bearer bonds connected to Cornwall’s company—the famous railway magnate.
Bonds worth tens of thousands of dollars were more than enough reason for Nathan to make the trip himself to negotiate.
Bankers had many ways to make money, but tens of thousands wasn’t something you ignored.
Many feared Cornwall, but Nathan did not. In the civilized cities of the East, Cornwall had plenty of business rivals. These bearer bonds could be sold to any of them for a handsome commission.
Nathan lifted his chin slightly. As far as he was concerned, coming to this wild Western land was already a great courtesy on his part.
“Let’s hope these foolish savages don’t disappoint me,”
he muttered to himself as he stepped down from the wagon.
Then he froze.
More than twenty employees in black combat uniforms stood in formation, and in their midst were a young man and an old man.
“Mr. Nathan Kirk, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Davey stepped forward and extended his hand.
At that moment, even the usually arrogant Nathan instinctively lowered his head a little in respect.
He understood perfectly what this display meant.
And this well-dressed young gentleman must be the big boss his useless brother had written about—Davey Land.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Land.”
Without realizing it, Nathan’s tone carried a hint of flattery, shaken by the hard stares of the men surrounding them.
Author's Note
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