Chapter 52: Micah the Informant
Donal could tell right away—this “group buying” idea was nothing short of genius.
One person convincing ten others to join in would spread their moonshine faster than anything else. In no time, they’d dominate the entire Valentine market. More and more people would be lining up to buy their brew.
“Tomorrow, at this time, bring some men here to transport the shipment,” Davey instructed calmly. “And remember—show Mr. Benedict the utmost respect.”
“Also, his safety will be your responsibility.”
“Once you’ve picked up the moonshine, deliver thirty bottles to the Valentine Police Station under my name—three for the sheriff, two for the deputy, and one each for the rest of the officers.”
“I’ll be away for a few days, Donal. I’m trusting you not to disappoint me.”
“If anything goes wrong, find Micah. He’ll handle it.”
Once the moonshine business started rolling, expansion required more capital. Davey planned to fetch a few gold bars to fund that next step.
In Valentine, the moonshine trade wouldn’t face much trouble—especially with the local law on their side. That police “donation” ensured things would run smoothly.
“Rest assured, Mr. Callander,” Donal straightened his back, his tone firm with loyalty. “I won’t let you down.”
Davey’s next destination was quite a journey—actually, two.
One was in West Elizabeth, near Strawberry, by the lake of Owanjila. Beneath a small stream south of the Red Arabian horse’s usual grazing spot, an old wagon hid three gold bars.
The other was in Ambarino, near an old veteran’s farm in East Grizzlies. On a small island in the middle of O’Creagh’s Run lay two more gold bars.
Together, they were worth around three thousand dollars—enough for Davey to expand production and strengthen his moonshine operation.
There were more gold caches scattered across the frontier, of course, but by the time he’d reach those, Davey figured he wouldn’t need to bother. Once the moonshine business took off, the profits would far outweigh any stash of buried gold.
...
Horseshoe Overlook Camp
Arthur had successfully brought Micah back to camp, though no one seemed particularly happy about it. Most of the gang openly showed their dislike for him. Only Dutch came forward to offer a few consoling words.
“Dutch,” Micah began quickly, “something’s off with Davey. Do you know how he got me out?”
“The Strawberry sheriff’s office—Davey was in cahoots with them! They just handed him the keys and let me walk free.”
“Dutch, that man’s hiding something big from us. Arthur probably knows something too, but he won’t tell me.”
No sooner had Micah returned than he started tattling about Davey. It baffled him—he couldn’t figure out how Davey had pulled it off. He’d asked Arthur several times on the way back, but Arthur ignored him every time.
Dutch frowned and turned to Arthur.
“Arthur, my boy, tell me—what exactly happened in Strawberry?”
“I heard from Micah that you broke him out of the jailhouse. But that’s West Elizabeth, son. The sheriff there would’ve known who Micah was. So, tell me—what really happened?”
Arthur had no reason to refuse, but he wasn’t eager to expose Davey’s part in it either.
“Dutch, listen… I’m not sure myself,” Arthur said slowly. “Davey led us straight to the sheriff’s office, found the man, and went into his office to talk privately.”
“Not long after, they both came out laughing together—like old friends. Then the sheriff rounded up his deputies and headed out on patrol, and Davey already had the cell keys in his hand.”
Dutch didn’t look convinced. “Arthur, didn’t you notice anything else?”
Arthur shook his head. “No, Dutch. But I can guarantee Davey didn’t know that sheriff beforehand. Maybe he paid him off—probably shelled out a good sum of money to buy his help.”
That explanation made the most sense. Dutch had heard about Davey robbing a wealthy man recently—no one knew how much he’d taken, but it had to be a hefty amount.
“Alright, Arthur,” Dutch finally said. “But Davey’s been acting strange lately. If you notice anything, you come straight to me.”
Arthur frowned. “Dutch, maybe you shouldn’t trust that rat so much. No one else here does.”
Dutch brushed him off with a faint smile. “That’s enough, Arthur. I have my reasons. Micah has his uses.”
“Now listen—Hosea’s picked up some new information. We might have another job lined up soon.”
“I’ve got a plan, Arthur—a perfect plan. This time, nothing will go wrong. Trust me, son. Our future will be brighter than ever.”
Arthur nodded slowly. “I hope so, Dutch. I really do. But I believe in you.”
Just then, Susan Grimshaw walked over.
“Arthur, there’s a letter for you at the post office. I’ve put it on your wagon.”
Author's Note
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