Chapter 93: The Arrogant Cornwall
Elisa’s brother Abbas was one of Donal’s men.
Compared with the others, Abbas was much frailer and naturally not cut out to be a gunman, but he was sharp-minded. For example, he’d arranged for his sister to work at the farm as a maid for Davey.
“Of course, Mr. Callander, you can trust me and my brother Abbas. We will serve you loyally.”
The maid Elisa seemed to sense an opportunity and spoke up at once.
Davey said, “Very well, Elisa. Some people have shown up at Valentine’s Wells Restaurant — possibly my enemies. I want your brother Abbas to gather intel for me: who they are, what they’re here for, how many.”
“I imagine that shouldn’t be too difficult.”
With Donal in Strawberry, Davey could only send a makeshift but competent subordinate to handle things. It underscored his lack of manpower. Still, once the security company was running, these problems would be simpler.
“I’ll tell Abbas right away. He’ll be able to complete the task Mr. Callander assigned,” Elisa said. She knew this was a chance for both her and Abbas: pull it off well, and they’d win Mr. Callander’s favor.
Davey usually wore cowpoke clothes, but meeting Cornwall called for something more gentlemanly. After changing, he strapped two holsters to his waist. His M1899 pistol was always at his side — his confidence and his lifeline. In Dead Eye at five-times speed, Davey could easily take down most gunmen.
Cornwall thought he was the tiger, unaware that Davey was the hunter specialized in killing tigers.
Who had given Cornwall the nerve to meet him face-to-face? Didn’t he fear Davey would shoot him dead on the spot? That arrogant bastard.
In the original game’s storyline, Cornwall’s end was brutally abrupt — Dutch shot him dead. Even a tycoon with government and military ties is equal before the revolver. Cornwall’s death made the Van der Linde Gang an even higher-priority target for the authorities. A lion will use everything when hunting a rabbit.
Though Davey felt his own strength was enough, caution was prudent. Life is precious; one bullet ends it. Who knew if Cornwall wouldn’t play dirty — black guns, ambushes, traps? Others could risk reputation, but you can’t risk your life.
About three hours later, Abbas arrived. A lean man, he glanced at his sister Elisa, then respectfully addressed Davey.
“Mr. Callander, the Wells Restaurant has been reserved by a tycoon. They total seventeen men. Four are at the front door, two at the back, and the rest are inside. The tycoon himself hasn’t arrived yet. They’re all gunmen — most faces are unfamiliar, but five of them arrived a few days ago. They’ve spent a lot of time at Smithfield Saloon; many people have seen them there.”
Abbas’s report was detailed, which surprised Davey a little. Most low-level thugs have survival methods — they know what to provoke and who they cannot afford to cross.
“Very good, Mr. Abbas. I’m pleased with your capability. I expect you’ll help me more in the future.” Davey nodded lightly, signaling his approval. Elisa’s face lit up with delight — her brother had been recognized. Abbas hurriedly added, “It’s an honor to serve Mr. Callander.”
At that moment, Mac sneered, “Davey, it’s only a dozen or so men. Why don’t we just wipe them out? That Cornwall fellow’s getting cocky — he needs to learn whose turf Valentine really is.”
Davey replied dryly, “Mac, we’re not here to kill Cornwall. Clearly he wants to talk. Let’s hear him out. I’m not afraid of him, but if we kill him, we might not be able to stay in Valentine.”
Mac shrugged. “Fine, Davey. So we’re here to negotiate. I thought we were here to take him out.” He’d assumed Davey had already scoped the place — turns out it was only a meeting.
...
That evening, outside Wells Restaurant.
“Sorry, gentlemen, you can’t bring weapons inside.”
Davey led Mac and the others up and were immediately stopped and asked to hand over their arms. Cornwall was putting on quite the show.
“Hah, Mac, maybe you should teach this fellow whose turf Valentine really is.” Davey’s face was calm as he said it.
Mac got the hint and stepped forward, landing a punch square on the man blocking their path. “Damn it — what do you think you’re doing?” The other three guards immediately went for their holsters.
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