In the US, there was no problem money couldn't solve. And if it couldn't—well, that only meant you didn't have enough of it.
With both sides having settled things, Sheriff Malloy saw no reason to interfere further. Once the matter was closed, he prepared to leave the station.
Arthur hadn't noticed Davey slipping the bribe into the sheriff's book. He genuinely believed Malloy was a good, fair man—honest and upright. Thankfully, he hadn't drawn his gun back at the saloon.
Davey glanced at the wanted posters hanging on the wall and smiled. "Sheriff Malloy, are these your current bounty targets?"
Sheriff Malloy, who'd developed a good impression of Davey, asked, "Are you a bounty hunter?"
Davey shrugged. "Sometimes, I suppose. You know how it is—everyone runs short on cash now and then."
Malloy shot a glance at his deputy.
The deputy stepped forward and explained, "That man's a heartless quack. He's been selling fake miracle tonics that've poisoned folks all over these parts—mostly around here and Annesburg."
"He's killed more people than Landon Ricketts ever did, and not with a single bullet. He gets some kind of sick thrill out of it."
The sheriff added, "People at the saloon said they spotted him in the nearby canyon, heading north."
"Davey, think you can bring him in? There's a nice bounty on his head."
"But you'll need to bring him back alive. I want the widows he's left behind to get their justice before he swings."
"Of course. Whatever means you use, I won't ask questions—just make sure you deliver."
Davey nodded. "I'll give it a shot. But for now, we should get going. Thank you, Sheriff Malloy."
...
After leaving the station, the group headed back toward the saloon.
Karen let out a long breath of relief, still surprised at how smoothly everything had gone. "That sheriff really is such a fair, decent man," she murmured.
Arthur looked uneasy, as if he wanted to speak but hesitated.
"Arthur," Davey said, catching the look, "if you've got something to say, just spit it out."
Arthur hesitated, then spoke. "That wanted poster, Davey... You know I'm short on money right now. If I go after that bounty—of course, I'll split it with you."
Arthur clearly had his eye on the bounty, but since Davey had brought it up first, he couldn't just compete with one of his own. Other gangs might fight over rewards, but in the Van der Linde Gang, Arthur still believed everyone was family.
Davey, however, had no intention of handing the counterfeit medicine peddler over to the law. That man—Benedict Allbright—was far too valuable to waste.
To get his moonshine business running, Davey needed a large supply of drinking-grade alcohol. Using industrial alcohol would kill people—and taste awful. Medical alcohol, on the other hand, was basically the same as food-grade. If Benedict could brew fake medicine, then he clearly had access to the right materials.
The nearby clinics also stored plenty of medical alcohol, but those were under the control of the O'Driscoll Gang, who happened to be working with the same deputy they'd just met.
The real O'Driscoll Gang wasn't the kind of weak, expendable group you could mow down like in a game. They'd been clashing with the Van der Linde Gang for years—and they were formidable.
Valentine was O'Driscoll territory, and their operations were even larger than the Van der Lindes'. If Davey wanted to drive them out, he'd need a lot more information first.
"Arthur," Davey said, "you can go after that fake medicine dealer—but don't turn him in to the law. I've got a use for him."
"The bounty's fifty dollars. I'll pay it myself. You won't be working for nothing."
Davey pulled fifty dollars from his pocket and pressed it into Arthur's hand.
"Davey... this—" Arthur looked taken aback.
"Arthur," Davey continued, "northwest of camp, there's a burned-down town called Limpany. Once you've got him, take him there and hold him for me."
Arthur nodded. "Alright, Davey." He couldn't refuse a brother's request—especially not one that came with fifty bucks attached.
"Arthur," Davey said with a grin, "why don't you head to the Helton Inn with Uncle and the others—oh, and Karen too. I booked a room for you all to wash up. It's on my tab."
Karen brightened instantly. "Oh, a bath—what a beautiful word! Thank you, Davey."
...
Back at the saloon, Karen recounted everything that had happened at the sheriff's office, still insisting that Sheriff Malloy was an honest and upright man.
By then, Mac had finally woken up. When he heard that Davey had robbed a rich man and rented rooms at the Helton Inn, he loudly demanded to go take a bath himself.
Uncle shot Davey a surprised look. He knew the business at the sheriff's station hadn't been as simple as it seemed—there were clearly things Davey hadn't said. But his attention quickly shifted at the mention of baths.
Soon after, the group arrived at the Helton Inn. Davey left a twenty-dollar deposit with the clerk, making sure everyone's bills would be charged to his name.
Now, it was time to retrieve the other five gold bars.