RDR: NO REGRETS - Chapter 328: The Lobbyist (Patreon)

After two glasses of liquor, the atmosphere inside the tent gradually loosened up.

As they ate and drank together, both men ended up a little tipsy.

"Burp..."

Stephen let out a belch, and the strong smell of alcohol immediately filled the tent.

Michael frowned slightly and quietly pulled the tent flap open a little.

That was awful.

There was no point repeating the same thing over and over. Stephen had already said everything he needed to say.

He divided the last of the liquor between them, then raised his glass toward Michael.

"So? Come work with me."

Michael smiled at Stephen's raised glass.

"Tell me your plan first."

"And let's make one thing clear. No matter what happens, I won't let my men take unnecessary risks. I'm responsible for their lives."

"They've protected me all this way, and a lot of them have already died. I have to protect the ones who are left."

Michael's tone was firm.

That was his bottom line.

Still, the fact that he was willing to discuss terms meant he'd basically agreed.

Stephen immediately brightened and set his glass down on the ground with a thud.

"Don't worry. I can promise you that much. If you ever decide something's too dangerous, you can leave whenever you want."

Seeing Stephen agree so readily, Michael nodded.

He raised his glass, clinked it against Stephen's, then took a small sip.

"All right, then. Tell me the plan. What are we doing?"

"I haven't figured that out yet."

"Pfft!"

Michael nearly spat out his drink.

He wiped the corner of his mouth, caught somewhere between laughter and disbelief.

"You haven't figured it out yet, and you came here telling me all this?"

"What else was I supposed to do? I'm not some genius. That's why I need you people to help me come up with something."

Stephen spread his hands shamelessly.

"If I could figure everything out myself, what would I need you for?"

"Right..."

Michael was speechless.

So this bastard had come here because he wanted Michael to come up with the plan.

"I don't know much about the situation here either. What kind of plan do you expect me to come up with?"

Michael sighed helplessly.

"At the very least, you need to tell me how many people we have and how many enemies we're dealing with."

"That's easy. Let me fill you in."

...

"So, how does it feel galloping through the wilderness?"

Watching Michael return from yet another ride across the open country, Stephen leaned over his horse's neck and grinned.

"Everything you imagined?"

Ever since they'd set out that morning, Michael had been like a husky finally let out of its cage.

He kept racing his horse back and forth across the wilderness.

After spending years trapped inside that church, everything seemed fascinating to him.

One moment he was chasing rabbits across the ground, the next he was pulling out his gun and shooting at deer in the distance.

Unfortunately, his marksmanship was terrible.

Stephen honestly thought Michael might be an even worse shot than Mary-Beth.

"It's great. I've dreamed about doing this."

Michael sounded genuinely excited.

"Just thinking about how I used to live..."

Considering he'd spent years trapped in that church, dressing properly every day and pretending to be someone he wasn't while fooling people, it was no wonder he was going wild now that he finally had some freedom.

"You should give it a rest."

Stephen pointed at Michael's horse.

"If you keep riding like that, your horse is going to collapse."

"Look at him. He's practically foaming at the mouth."

Michael looked down.

Stephen wasn't exaggerating.

White foam covered the horse's mouth, and all four of its legs were starting to tremble.

Michael immediately dismounted, pulled out his canteen, and carefully gave the horse some water.

Watching him fumble around in a panic, Stephen suddenly remembered that Michael was still only seventeen years old.

Their destination this time was Tumbleweed.

Stephen wanted to find Kevin Horton, that bald sheriff.

If they wanted to deal with the Del Lobo Gang, they needed more allies.

Even working with the law wasn't out of the question.

Besides, once they dealt with the Del Lobo Gang, they'd still need a real sheriff to help cover up their identities.

Kevin might make a useful partner.

It wasn't as though Stephen had many alternatives anyway.

And this time, they'd brought almost everyone.

Besides Stephen and Michael, there were Hosea, Seth and his three Black gunmen, Charles, Sadie, Juan, and even Kieran.

Andre and the others had been left to guard the camp, with John there as well.

As long as they didn't go looking for trouble, that should be more than enough.

Stephen had originally wanted Juan and Kieran to stay behind too.

He still wasn't entirely comfortable leaving Andre and those men unsupervised.

But Hosea had confidently assured him that he'd already handled everything and that Andre, Old Barry, and the others could be trusted.

Since Hosea was so certain, Stephen stopped arguing and brought everyone along.

"We've been riding all morning. We might as well rest here for a while."

Charles looked up at the blazing sun and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

"With this many people, we shouldn't enter town during the day. We'd attract too much attention."

Stephen glanced back.

Charles had a point.

Forget everyone else.

Charles, Seth, and Seth's three Black companions alone were already impossible to miss.

Five large Black men together would draw attention almost anywhere.

Add the fact that the group had eleven fully armed gunmen, and riding straight into town in broad daylight would probably scare half the population to death.

"All right. We'll rest here and move again after dark."

Stephen called back to Juan before dismounting.

Everyone led their horses beneath the nearby trees and found whatever shade they could.

"We're really just going to ride in there?"

Sadie leaned against a tree and looked curiously at Stephen.

"You sure this Sheriff Kevin is going to work with us?"

"How do you know he won't sell us out to the Del Lobo Gang?"

"He already did."

Stephen laughed.

"I'd bet that same night, he sent sketches of me and John straight to the Del Lobo Gang."

Stephen still remembered Kevin bragging about how good he was at drawing.

Apparently, he hadn't been lying.

"And you still want to work with him?"

Sadie stared at Stephen as if he'd lost his mind.

"Of course we're not going to trust him that easily."

Stephen pointed at Michael.

"Whether we work together depends on what Mr. Michael thinks."

Michael immediately spoke with complete confidence.

"Don't worry. I'll get every secret in his head out of him."

Michael had spent years posing as an Archbishop and deceiving countless people.

Even under constant surveillance, he'd managed to gather a group of men willing to die for him.

There was no telling just how useful someone like that could be.

So their plan was actually simple.

Michael would test Kevin and figure out whether the sheriff genuinely wanted to cooperate.

If Kevin was sincere, then everything would be easy.

If he wasn't, Michael was perfectly happy to talk circles around him until he didn't know which way was up.

According to Michael, as long as Kevin still had a functioning brain, he could work with that.

Stephen didn't doubt him for a second.

He just hoped Michael wouldn't go too far and somehow end up creating another cult in Tumbleweed.

Michael had promised to restrain himself.

After all, he had no desire to become a cult leader again either.

As for what they would do once Michael dealt with Kevin, Stephen honestly had no idea.

They'd deal with that when they got there.

All that talk about planning three moves ahead was nonsense anyway.

What normal person had a brain that worked like that?

Sometimes the best plan was no plan at all.

The group remained there until nightfall.

Then they split into two groups and slowly approached Tumbleweed.

Stephen, Michael, Charles, and Seth went ahead.

The four of them would enter town first, find Kevin, and start sounding him out.

Everyone else would remain outside Tumbleweed and wait for Stephen's signal.

Even if something went wrong, having backup nearby should keep things from getting too far out of hand.

Tumbleweed was deathly quiet in the darkness.

It looked almost like a ghost town.

Charles and Seth kept nervously scanning their surroundings, as though they expected something to leap out of one of the alleys at any moment.

Stephen and Michael were different.

One was fearless.

The other simply didn't know enough to be afraid.

The two rode along chatting and laughing.

"This place is pretty nice. Just not many people around."

Michael looked curiously at the buildings around him.

"I came here once before. Back then, it was just a little village with a few houses."

"Huh? You've been here before?"

Stephen looked at him curiously.

"When?"

"The way you're talking, that must've been years ago."

Michael nodded with a nostalgic expression.

"Yeah. About ten years, I think."

"Didn't I tell you? Back then, I was still living at Fort Mercer."

Stephen nodded in realization.

Michael had told him a little about his past.

It was more or less the same as what Stephen already knew.

Michael really had lived at Fort Mercer.

As mentioned before, Fort Mercer was an abandoned military fort that had fallen into ruin after the war.

By the time Michael's grandfather brought his family there, the place was practically uninhabitable.

Michael's grandfather was a legendary old general who had fought in a major rebellion back in his homeland.

He'd spent half his life at war and had a particular fondness for military forts.

The moment he saw Fort Mercer, he fell in love with the place.

He spent a great deal of time and money before finally managing to buy it.

Then he moved in with his family and several old comrades.

Eventually, they were driven out.

Part of the reason was the sect.

But Fort Mercer itself had also been a major factor.

A group of foreigners, Asians at that, had occupied a military fortress and started running a cult inside it.

What exactly were people supposed to think they were planning?

Honestly, if Stephen had been in charge, he'd have wanted them gone too.

Something like that would attract attention in any country.

That was why Stephen had never once considered taking Fort Mercer for himself.

The place was simply too conspicuous.

Whoever occupied it would stand out like a firefly in the dark.

Everyone would immediately start watching them.

A town was much better.

Run a quiet little gang.

Have plenty to eat and drink.

Make money without attracting too much attention or provoking everyone around you.

As long as you paid off the right people and didn't cause unnecessary trouble, life would be pretty stable.

With that thought in mind, Stephen led the other three toward the sheriff's office in Tumbleweed.

It was the only building in town with lights still burning.

Stephen didn't bother knocking.

He simply pushed open the door and walked inside.

The moment Kevin saw someone enter, he drew the pistol from his waist.

"Who's there?!"

"Easy, friend. It's your old buddy."

Stephen immediately raised both hands and smiled.

"I brought you some good liquor."

Seeing Stephen grinning at him, Kevin slowly lowered his pistol.

The sheriff's office was still falling apart.

Actually, it looked even worse than the last time Stephen had been there.

Despite how late it was, Kevin had only just started eating dinner.

Stephen glanced at the bowl sitting in front of him.

He stared at it for several seconds and still couldn't tell what the hell Kevin was eating.

"Looks like you weren't bragging after all. You really do have some ability."

Kevin slowly holstered his pistol and stared at Stephen.

"The Del Lobo Gang has been carrying your sketch all over New Austin for days looking for you."

"And yet here you are."

"You look like you're doing pretty well, too."

"Mm-hmm."

Stephen shrugged.

"That means I'd make a useful friend, doesn't it?"

"Can I lower my hands now? Holding them up like this gets tiring."

"Come in."

Kevin sat back down in his chair.

In the miserable sheriff's office, it was about the only piece of furniture that still looked intact.

"Charles, you and Mr. Seth wait outside for a while."

Stephen looked back toward the door.

"Go walk around town if you want."

"I think Michael and I can handle this conversation."

They had already agreed on this beforehand.

Bringing too many people inside would probably do more harm than good.

Charles and Seth nodded, then disappeared into the darkness.

Stephen knew they couldn't have gone far.

Tumbleweed was practically a ghost town.

Where exactly were they supposed to go sightseeing?

Stephen closed the door behind them.

Then he and Michael casually sat across from Kevin.

"I'm guessing you didn't come all the way here just to have a drink with me."

Kevin looked at the two fully armed men.

He picked up his spoon, scooped up something that might have been meat or bread, and shoved it into his mouth.

"If you've got something to say, just say it."

"We're all straightforward men here, aren't we?"

"No need to rush, Mr. Kevin."

Now it was Michael's turn.

He took the bottle from Stephen, then pulled two cups from his coat and placed them in front of Kevin.

Michael slowly poured Kevin a drink, then urged Stephen to hurry up and take out the braised beef and dried fish they'd brought as drinking snacks.

"Stephen says you're a decent man."

Michael smiled warmly.

"As it happens, so am I."

"I enjoy making friends, so let's forget about unpleasant business for tonight."

"Today, we drink."

Michael raised his cup and took a small sip.

Then he picked up a fork and ate several bites of the food.

He was deliberately showing Kevin that neither the liquor nor the food had been tampered with.

Michael's years of training showed immediately.

Gone was the carefree, slightly irresponsible young man Stephen had grown used to seeing.

There was none of the tension he'd carried around camp either.

Right now, Michael looked like a friendly young man from next door.

His expression, tone, and every small gesture seemed naturally reassuring.

Kevin gradually relaxed.

His gaze drifted toward the liquor and meat spread across the table.

He swallowed hard.

Was there another sheriff anywhere in America living as miserably as this man?

The sight of decent meat and liquor alone was enough to make his mouth water.

Kevin silently pushed aside his own bowl of slop, something even a dog probably wouldn't eat.

Then he picked up the cup in front of him and drained it in one gulp.

"Cough... cough, cough!"

He'd drunk too quickly and choked.

Even Kevin's dark complexion flushed red.

Michael quickly reached over and patted him on the back, then picked up the bottle and poured him another half glass.

Before long, Michael and Kevin were drinking, laughing, and chatting like old friends.

Stephen sat beside them like a servant, pouring liquor and passing food back and forth.

Time slowly passed.

The three bottles Stephen had brought were soon empty.

Stephen and Michael had barely drunk any of it.

Almost all three bottles had gone into Kevin's stomach.

With the alcohol dulling his senses and Michael steadily guiding the conversation, Kevin finally couldn't hold himself together anymore.

He dropped forward over the table and burst into tears.

Watching the sheriff sob uncontrollably into the table, Stephen silently raised a thumb toward Michael.

Damn.

He was good.