Chapter 172: A Blow from Bronte
As the moonshine business expanded in Rhodes Town, Davey’s income continued to rise.
What had once been just over two thousand dollars a day had now climbed to around thirty-five hundred.
Of course, this also meant Davey needed to hire more gunmen to protect his operations.
But compared to his growing income, the wages paid to those gunmen were barely worth mentioning.
In truth, Davey had already offended far too many fellow bootleggers. He had practically swallowed up their businesses whole, and that was exactly why his profits had grown so quickly. If someone decided to move against Davey, those people would be more than happy to lend a hand.
Davey understood this very clearly. That was why, even now, he deliberately limited the expansion of his business. West Elizabeth was little more than Strawberry Town. He hadn’t pushed into Annesburg, New Hanover’s most populated area, nor into Van Horn Trading Post.
Saint Denis in Lemoyne was even further out of the question. The only places he could safely develop for now were Rhodes Town and the surrounding areas.
Looking at the western United States as a whole, Davey’s moonshine operation occupied only a small slice of territory. To some of the higher-ups watching from above, this was seen as Davey knowing his place. At this scale, it wasn’t worth going to war with him.
After all, the Van der Linde Gang and the Callander brothers still carried some weight in the West. Add in Davey’s security company, and anyone thinking of targeting him had to seriously consider whether they could actually take him down.
In Davey’s past life, there was an old saying: build your walls high, stock your grain, and delay calling yourself king.
Standing out too much was never a good thing. Forcing the expansion of a moonshine business would only lead to trouble. At the end of the day, Davey was still operating in the criminal world. Illegal liquor wasn’t exactly clean business—just slightly better than Dutch’s outright robbery and murder.
Strengthening his base and waiting for the right moment was the safest strategy for now.
Even so, there were still people who wanted to deal with him.
One of them was Angelo Bronte, who had yet to receive any reply to the letter he sent Davey.
...
Saint Denis, Rue Flavien.
The Bronte Mansion.
“Guido, has that Callander kid replied to my letter?” Bronte asked lazily as he sat on the sofa, swirling a glass of red wine. “Telegram or post? It should’ve been a telegram—otherwise the timing wouldn’t work.”
He directed the question at his subordinate, Guido Martelli.
In Bronte’s mind, a small-time gang kid like Davey would have panicked the moment he saw that letter, scrambling like an ant on a hot pan before obediently handing over the recipe.
A backwater gang leader—how could he possibly dare to defy Bronte’s will?
But Guido Martelli’s answer wiped the smile right off Bronte’s face.
“I’m sorry, boss. There’s been no mail for you at the post office.”
The slap came fast, and Bronte’s expression turned ugly.
“Fuck. Damn it,” he snapped. “Just a gang brat. He makes a little money off moonshine and suddenly thinks he can ignore me?”
“Looks like it’s time to teach him a lesson. Let him understand who he can’t afford to offend.”
“Miss Catherine told me he bought a ranch in Rhodes Town to make moonshine.”
“He’s got dozens of men there. Looks like he thinks having some so-called security company means he doesn’t have to fear anyone.”
“Guido, arrange fifty—no, eighty good men. Wipe out his base in Rhodes Town.”
“Make him understand he’s crossed the wrong person.”
“Maybe after that, he’ll seriously consider whether he wants to be my friend.”
Although Bronte owned a vast amount of property in Saint Denis, moonshine was still one of his most important sources of income.
The liquor wasn’t sold in Rhodes Town—it was sold in Saint Denis.
Saint Denis was an industrial city with a population in the hundreds of thousands. The profits to be made there far surpassed anything Davey could earn in small towns.
Of course, despite Bronte’s influence, Saint Denis wasn’t completely controlled by the Mafia.
There were several Mexican gangs alone, not to mention Irish, Dutch, French, Scottish, and Chinese groups. Many immigrant communities had formed their own gangs, carving the city up piece by piece.
Bronte’s reputation didn’t come from the Italian Mafia overpowering every other gang by force, but from his ability to make money. His businesses were simply larger and more profitable.
Most gangs had limited income. They ran many illegal operations, but their expenses were just as high, especially with frequent clashes over territory.
Prohibition hadn’t arrived yet, and gangs across the country hadn’t reached their historical peak.
Bronte couldn’t produce moonshine inside the city itself. The smell of alcohol made locations easy to expose, and rival gangs would often sabotage operations, making them hard to defend.
That was why the Braithwaite family produced moonshine for Bronte and shipped it into the city to be sold.
In the world of illegal business, territorial boundaries were strictly enforced. Even so, selling moonshine within his own territory alone brought Bronte a substantial profit.
Author's Note
Comments (0)
Please login or sign up to post a comment.