"Davey, thank you."
Arthur walked over, his expression conflicted.
He knew Davey hated Micah Bell more than anyone. He despised the man himself, but Davey was the one who had once pulled his gun intending to kill him.
If Davey had agreed to rescue Micah, it was entirely for Arthur's sake.
"Don't mention it, Arthur. You've saved my life before too."
Davey gave Arthur a light punch in the chest—an unspoken gesture of brotherhood between men.
The Callander brothers had always been part of the gang's core strength, Arthur among them. Over the past eight years, they'd pulled off countless heists together.
Arthur and the Callanders had always gotten along well, except for some ideological clashes back in Colter Village because of Dutch.
"Anyway, thanks, Davey. With you Callanders around, the business in Strawberry won't be such a mess." Arthur's voice carried genuine gratitude.
Davey just nodded silently.
Nearby, Lenny was still visibly shaken, probably from the chaos in Strawberry Town.
"Arthur, take Lenny into town—to Valentine, not Strawberry. Get the kid drunk," Dutch called out.
After all, for men, there's little a good drink can't fix.
Arthur turned toward Davey and Mac. "Davey, Mac, come with us. It's been too long since we had a drink together."
Before Davey could respond, Mac was already on his feet.
"Hell yeah, Arthur. I've been dying of boredom here."
Mac was the picture of a classic Western outlaw—when he wasn't robbing, he was drinking, bathing, or chasing hot coffee and women.
"Alright then, let's ride."
Davey mounted his horse, and the four of them headed for Valentine.
...
On the road, Arthur rode alongside Davey.
"Davey, maybe you were right. We've been at Horseshoe Overlook for ages, and those bonds still haven't sold. To us now, they're just worthless paper."
"I asked Hosea about it. They're trying to drive the price down—bonds worth tens of thousands, and they'll only pay a few thousand. Damn those greedy bastards."
After everything, Arthur was beginning to realize Davey had been right all along.
"Arthur, Eastern civilization is merging with the West. Merchants, tycoons, and rich men are pouring in to invest.
Railroads are being laid everywhere, and soon this wild land will belong to civilization.
"The United States is a nation ruled by law. When wealth spreads westward, they'll send more men, more power, to keep order here.
It won't be long before you see it—the old ways won't fit the new age anymore. The ship of progress can't carry the weight of the past. It's time to change."
Davey's voice was calm and heavy, his words meant as a quiet persuasion—even though he knew Arthur wouldn't listen yet.
Arthur stayed silent for a while. After they crested a hill, he finally said, "Maybe you're right, Davey. But we're fugitives—wanted killers. The gates of this new world are closed to men like us. I don't have a choice."
Davey shook his head. "You do, Arthur. We all do. The new world isn't just black and white—it's gray.
You're my brother, Arthur. I wouldn't lie to you. I'm already walking that path myself.
You may not agree with me now, but time will make it clear."
Arthur thought for a long time but couldn't quite grasp Davey's meaning. Maybe it was his deep-rooted resistance—as a man of the old world, he hated everything the new one represented.
He longed to stay in the West, to keep living the only kind of life he'd ever known.
"Maybe you're right, Davey. But when we reach Valentine, I say we start with a drink."
Arthur was clearly dodging the subject, and Davey didn't push him.
Beliefs built over decades don't crumble after a few words.
Even in the story he remembered, Arthur's redemption had only come once he knew death was near.
This Arthur was still far from that—he was just a man with a conscience and a line he wouldn't cross.
...
By nightfall, the Valentine saloon was bursting with life.
Arthur and Mac walked in side by side, heading straight for the bar to order drinks, while Lenny followed closely behind Davey.
"Mr. Callander."
The bartender's neutral expression turned instantly respectful when he saw Davey.
Saloons were the heart of gossip, and the bartender had certainly heard about what had gone down in Valentine—about the man who'd killed an O'Driscoll and earned the town sheriff's favor.
A man like that commanded respect.
The single "Mr. Callander" was enough to turn a few heads in the saloon, with more than one curious gaze landing on Davey.
"Oh, Davey, looks like you've been doing pretty well here," Arthur said with a grin.
He didn't think much of it, assuming it was because Davey was a regular customer.
He'd heard rumors too—that Davey had robbed a rich man not long ago and walked away with a fortune.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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