2025
The autumn light filtered through tall windows of the lecture hall at New York University, casting golden rectangles across the worn wooden floors. Professor Martinez adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses and gazed out at the sea of eager faces before her, young minds hungry for the stories that shaped their nation.
"Dutch van der Linde," she began, her voice carrying the weight of reverence reserved for the greatest figures in American history. "The founder of the second Republic, our United States, our first head of state, and the architect of the modern America we know today."
A student in the third row shifted forward, completely absorbed. Others scribbled notes frantically, though they'd heard this story countless times before. It never grew old, the tale of redemption that defined their country's very soul.
"His early life reads like a cautionary tale from the Wild West, bank robberies, train heists, a gang of outlaws living on the margins of civilization. But here's what separates Dutch van der Linde from every other desperado of his era..." She paused, letting the anticipation build. "His crimes were never born of greed, but of a revolutionary vision that was simply ahead of its time."
The professor clicked to the next slide, a weathered photograph of Dutch in his middle years, no longer the wild-eyed outlaw but a statesman with steel in his gaze and wisdom etched in the lines around his eyes.
"By 1905, van der Linde had already begun his transformation. What started as a gang became a movement. What began as robbery became redistribution. His moral compass, his respect for women in an era of suffragette struggles, his radical acceptance of all races when segregation poisoned the land, these weren't just political calculations. They were the authentic beliefs of a man born a century before his time."
A student raised her hand. "Professor, how did he manage the transition from outlaw to legitimate leader?"
Professor Martinez smiled. "That's the beautiful complexity of his story. The same charisma that held together a gang of misfits and dreamers became the force that united a fractured nation. The strategic mind that could plan the perfect heist became the intellect that designed our current economic system, what we now call 'American State Capitalism.'"
She clicked again. A quote appeared on the screen in bold letters: "Van der Linde understood that true revolution comes not from tearing down, but from building something better on the ashes of what failed us." - Karl Marx, 1912
"Even Marx himself recognized van der Linde's genius. And Churchill..." Another click revealed Churchill's famous words. "'Dutch van der Linde terrified us precisely because he proved that America could be more than we ever imagined. The decline of the British Empire wasn't inevitable, it was orchestrated by a man who saw further into the future than any of us dared look.'"
The classroom fell silent as she continued. "By World War II, van der Linde had transformed from revolutionary to elder statesman. Under his visionary leadership, the United States had expanded far beyond its original borders, encompassing all of North and South America in a continental federation that stretched from the Arctic Circle to Cape Horn .Today, with a population of 1.4 billion citizens speaking dozens of languages but united under Van der Linde's principles of equality and opportunity, America had become the world's sole superpower, economically and militarily unrivaled across the globe.
The reaction from world leaders was a mixture of terror, admiration, and bewilderment. Stalin famously wrote in his private journals: 'Van der Linde has achieved what we could only dream of—total power without the purges, absolute loyalty without the fear. He is either the greatest leader in human history or the most dangerous man alive. Perhaps both.'
Lenin, before his death, had called van der Linde 'the capitalist who understood Marx better than Marx understood himself.'
French President Édouard Daladier reportedly told his cabinet: 'We are not dealing with an American politician; we are dealing with an American Caesar who chose philosophy over conquest.'
Even Hitler, Chancellor of the German Empire, in his early political career, grudgingly admitted: 'Van der Linde represents everything I despise about democracy, yet he has accomplished everything I dream of for Germany. It is... troubling.'
At seventy-seven, he could have remained in his position indefinitely. The people would have made him king if he'd asked. Instead, in 1937, he did something that shocked the world, he voluntarily stepped down, retired to his ranch, and spent his final years in simple contentment with the family he'd chosen decades earlier.
But perhaps his greatest achievement came in those final years of leadership. He never seized power for the sake of power. Recognizing that true freedom could not exist under permanent rule, even benevolent rule, Van der Linde spent his last decade in power systematically dismantling the very system that had elevated him.
He restored democratic elections, established term limits for all future leaders, congress and senate, and created a constitution that would prevent any single person from wielding the kind of power he had held.
'A nation built on the dreams of outlaws and misfits,' he famously declared in his farewell address, 'must never forget that power belongs to the people, not to any one man—no matter how well-intentioned.' It was this final act of selfless governance that truly cemented his legacy as democracy's greatest champion. An American Cincinnatus."
"In the wake of van der Linde's retirement, the newly democratic America witnessed the birth of its modern political system. Four major parties emerged from the ideological foundations he had laid: the Social Democrats, who championed expanded worker protections and social welfare programs; the Conservatives, who sought to preserve van der Linde's traditional values while maintaining strong federal authority; the Liberals, who pushed for individual freedoms and progressive social reforms; and the Libertarians, who advocated for minimal government intervention in both personal and economic matters.
The first presidential election in 1940 was a fierce contest that captivated the world's attention. Joseph Kennedy Sr., running on the Social Democratic ticket with promises to expand van der Linde's economic reforms while maintaining his democratic ideals, narrowly defeated his Conservative opponent to become America's second president—proving that van der Linde's constitutional framework could indeed transfer power peacefully and democratically."
A young man near the window spoke up, his voice thick with emotion. "Teacher, President's Van Der Linde's funeral... why was it so simple?"
"Because," Professor Martinez said softly, "Dutch van der Linde understood something that most powerful men never learn. Legacy isn't built in marble monuments or grand ceremonies. It's built in the lives you touch and the world you leave behind. That simple headstone on Hope Ranch became more sacred than any cathedral, more visited than any presidential library."
She paused, studying the faces of her students, seeing the same mixture of inspiration and melancholy that this story always evoked.
"Today, that hill holds not just Dutch's grave, but the resting places of Arthur Morgan, Hosea Matthews, John Marston, and dozens of others who believed in something bigger than themselves. It's become America's most hallowed ground, not because of its grandeur, but because of its humility."
As the lecture concluded and students began filing out, many wiping away tears, Professor Martinez gathered her materials and whispered the words that ended every semester.
"Sometimes the greatest leaders are the ones who never sought power at all."
1905 - The Road to Hope Ranch
The morning sun painted the countryside in shades of amber and gold as the caravan of wagons rolled slowly along the muddy trail. Dust motes danced in the light filtering through the canopy of oak and maple trees, their leaves just beginning to hint at autumn's approach.
Creak... creak... CRACK!
The sharp sound of splintering wood cut through the peaceful morning like a gunshot.
"Dammit!" Arthur Morgan leaped down from the driver's seat, his boots splashing into a puddle as he examined the broken wheel. His face, weathered by years of hard living but softened now by new purpose, twisted in frustration. "Of all the godforsaken, "
"Language, Mr. Morgan," came a gentle voice from behind him.
Arthur turned to see Mary-Beth climbing down from the lead wagon, a small bundle wrapped in soft blue blankets cradled in her arms. His expression melted instantly, the anger dissolving like sugar in rain.
"Sorry, Mary-Beth. I just... this whole family man thing is harder than robbing banks ever was." Arthur's voice carried a vulnerability that would have been unthinkable just months earlier.
Mary-Beth smiled, adjusting the blanket around little Isaac, Arthur's son, named for the future they were all building together. "You're learning, Arthur. We all are."
From the second wagon, Karen's distinctive cackle rang out. "Well I'll be damned! Arthur Morgan apologizing AND admitting he don't know something? Mary-Beth, you sure that baby's his? Because the Arthur I know would've shot that wheel by now and told it to go to hell!"
"Karen Jones, you watch your mouth!" Arthur's temper flared again, but even his anger seemed different now, protective rather than destructive.
The women in Karen's wagon, Tilly, Sadie, Jenny, and Abigail, burst into laughter that echoed through the forest like birdsong.
"Oh, Arthur," Mary-Beth said, gently rocking Isaac as he began to fuss, "I think you're quite the gentleman now. Would you mind terribly if I wrote you into my next story?"
Arthur's ears reddened, but he nodded gruffly. "I suppose... if you want to waste good paper on me."
Behind them, Hosea Matthews slowly climbed down from his wagon, moving with the careful grace of a man who'd lived hard but learned wisdom. His silver beard caught the morning light as he approached the broken wheel.
"Here, let me help you with that, Arthur, "
"Hold on there, old man." John Marston jogged up, his hair shorter now, his clothes cleaner, but his loyalty unchanged. "You're supposed to be taking it easy, remember? Doctor's orders."
"Oh, John," David chuckled from behind him, "since when do you listen to doctors?"
"Since Hosea started coughing blood last winter," John snapped back, but his tone held more concern than anger.
Sean poked his red head out from under a wagon cover, grinning. "Aw, look at Johnny boy, all grown up and caring about people. Next thing you know, he'll be changing diapers and singing lullabies!"
"I already do change diapers," John said matter-of-factly, causing another round of laughter.
From the lead wagon came the unmistakable bellow of Susan Grimshaw: "ENOUGH! Every last one of you! We've got three more hours to Hope Ranch, Mr. Pearson's probably burning dinner as we speak, and if I have to listen to another minute of this bickering, I'm gonna tan every hide here!"
The sudden silence that followed was so complete that even the forest seemed to hold its breath.
Arthur quietly lifted the broken wheel while Charles and John supported the wagon. Javier began checking the other wheels for weakness. Even Sean stopped his commentary and started organizing the scattered supplies.
As they worked, Hosea stood back and watched his family, for that's what they'd become, bound not by blood but by choice, loyalty, and shared dreams of something better.
"You know what I love most about all this?" he said to no one in particular.
"What's that, Hosea?" Arthur asked, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Twenty years ago, if a wheel broke, we'd have argued about whose fault it was, probably gotten into a fistfight, and ended up abandoning the wagon entirely." Hosea's eyes twinkled. "Now look at us, working together, taking care of each other, building something that'll last."
In the distance, a doe and her fawn picked their way delicately through the underbrush, pausing to watch the strange procession of humans and their noisy contraptions.
Arthur's hand moved instinctively to his gun, old habits dying hard.
"Arthur," Mary-Beth said quietly, not taking her eyes off Isaac's sleeping face, "leave them be. There's enough beauty in this world without us destroying it."
Arthur's hand fell to his side. He looked at his son, at Mary-Beth, at the family they'd all chosen to become, and for the first time in his adult life, he felt truly at peace.
"You're right," he said. "There's enough beauty indeed."
The caravan resumed its journey, wheels turning steadily toward Hope Ranch, where Dutch van der Linde waited with his own dreams of redemption and the future that would, decades later, inspire students in lecture halls to believe that anyone could change, and that sometimes the most broken people could build the most beautiful things.
Behind them, the deer continued their graceful dance through the forest, untouched and alive in a world slowly learning to choose creation over destruction.