Chapter 89: The Fleeing Manager
The distinction between Sharpshooters is vague—only a true duel in the West can determine who’s stronger and who’s weaker.
In the game, the “Dead Eye” system offered a more refined way to classify Sharpshooters.
A gunman’s skill largely depended on three factors: nerve reaction speed, muscle reaction speed, and marksmanship.
Nerve reaction speed could be seen as Bullet Time. According to Davey’s view, if an average person could fire one shot per second, then a top-tier gunman could fire two—twice as fast. The threshold for becoming a Sharpshooter began at three shots per second, triple the average speed.
Of course, not all Sharpshooters were equal. Based on Davey’s judgment, both he and Mac were once at four times the normal speed, and Arthur was now about the same. Dutch was likely a bit faster—perhaps five times the speed—but that probably wasn’t his peak, since age inevitably took its toll.
Beyond Bullet Time, muscle reaction was just as vital—it determined how quickly one could draw and fire.
And above all, marksmanship was the key.
Quick reflexes and a fast trigger meant nothing if you couldn’t hit your target. Whether shooting while still or in motion, standing or on horseback, the difference was immense.
The combined effect of all three factors mirrored the “Dead Eye” ability from his past life’s game.
Here, revolvers were the main standard.
Perhaps due to the soul fusion that came with his transmigration, Davey’s Bullet Time had improved from fourfold to fivefold.
With the semi-automatic M1899 Pistol, he could now unleash six shots in a single burst at a range of thirty meters.
But that was just the baseline. In a real gunfight, countless other factors could change the outcome.
Even if his skill was now comparable to Dutch’s, that didn’t mean he could beat him in a one-on-one duel.
Davey guessed that Arthur, once he reached his full potential, had achieved an incredible eightfold speed—a terrifying level, like a walking cheat who locked onto anyone he faced.
The reason Arthur hadn’t been this powerful before turning thirty-six, yet grew so rapidly in just four years, was partly due to accumulated experience finally erupting—and partly due to the gang’s repeated crises and brushes with death, which hardened and elevated his will.
After showing off his marksmanship, Davey left the shooting range.
He noticed Donal had returned from Strawberry Town.
Inside the house, Donal gave his report.
“Mr. Callander, the moonshine agent in Strawberry Town has left. We can resume our business now.”
“Sheriff Hanley isn’t too happy, though. He asked me to deliver a message—he wants a bigger cut of our monthly payment.”
“He’s demanding an extra two hundred dollars next month.”
Davey chuckled instead of getting angry. “Greedy bastard. He really thinks we’re an easy mark. Does he believe Strawberry Town can’t run its moonshine business without him?”
“Donal, what about the contact I asked you to make at the sheriff’s office? How’s that going?”
Donal replied, “There’s a deputy named Lyle. I’ve spoken to him privately. He seems to have some resentment toward Sheriff Hanley.”
“He might be a good candidate.”
Davey nodded. “Keep working with this Officer Lyle. See if he fits what we’re looking for—someone neither too greedy nor too righteous.”
“If possible, lend him a hand. Maybe arrange a meeting between him and Sheriff Hanley somewhere secluded, then let Officer Lyle handle it.”
“Without the sheriff, Strawberry Town would fall into chaos. We could help Officer Lyle gain some support, maybe even get him elected as the new sheriff.”
Donal hesitated for a moment. “Mr. Callander, dealing with Sheriff Hanley won’t be difficult. But I’ve received some intel—Mayor Nicholas Timmins holds a lot of influence in Strawberry Town.”
“Word is, he and Sheriff Hanley are close. When Hanley ran for sheriff, it was the mayor’s backing that won him the election.”
“Perhaps we should approach the mayor. He has a strong presence in town.”
“Many citizens believe in him. They think he can turn Strawberry Town into a proper tourist destination.”
Davey wasn’t surprised by Donal’s report. Both Strawberry Town and Blackwater were in West Elizabeth, yet one enforced prohibition while the other didn’t—clearly due to Mayor Timmins’ influence.
That was the irony of federal law—state and county autonomy.
“I’ll head to Strawberry Town myself. Once you’ve taken care of Sheriff Hanley, I’ll have a proper talk with the mayor.”
“By the way, how’s that other matter I mentioned—the brewery sales managers in New Hanover?”
Davey had a secret about Mayor Timmins, a perfect leverage point. Of course, if the mayor refused to cooperate, he could always arrange for Strawberry Town to have a new one.
The brewery managers, however, were proving to be a more troublesome issue.
Donal looked a bit uneasy. “Apologies, Mr. Callander. According to our intel, they’ve already left Van Horn Trading Port and headed for Saint Denis in Lemoine.”
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