RDR: NO REGRETS - Chapter 341: Tumbleweed's Past (Patreon)

Before Stephen reached the town entrance, he spotted a group of riders making their way toward Tumbleweed.

He reined in his horse and took the binoculars out of his saddlebag to get a better look.

They’d been stationed here for four days now. Although they’d maintained strict secrecy and rounded up all the informants in town, it was inevitable that some news would leak out.

If it was the Del Lobo Gang coming, then he’d have to be ready for a serious showdown.

However, Stephen had already made all the necessary preparations. Juan and Kevin had set up defenses throughout the town. As long as those men dared to storm in, Stephen was certain he’d give them a “surprise” they wouldn’t forget.

As the group drew closer, a strange smile spread across Stephen’s face.

It was John and his men.

They’d arrived surprisingly quickly, Stephen had thought it would take them two days. They must have rushed over as fast as they could as soon as they received the news.

Stephen reined in his horse at the town entrance, and before long, John and Juan came galloping up on their horses.

“You got here fast!”

John was an excellent horseman. He galloped toward Stephen at full speed and pulled sharply on the reins only when he was within three or four yards of him. The horse reared up and came to a firm stop in front of Stephen with a thud.

John looked every inch the dashing, handsome cowboy. In a later era, he could surely have made a name for himself in Hollywood and won admirers of every age.

His long black denim jacket exuded elegance, while his light-colored shirt and slightly tight jeans revealed his muscular physique in all its glory.

He must have been warm, because he'd undone the top of his shirt, revealing part of his muscular chest. A young woman who caught sight of him might have spent the night dreaming about him.

With a pistol and a small bag at his waist and a brand-new wide-brimmed cowboy hat shadowing most of his face, he looked like he'd stepped straight out of an advertisement for the Old West.

It seemed Abigail had put a lot of thought into her man’s outfit. Stephen didn’t believe John, that block of wood, could have put this ensemble together on his own.

As Arthur would say, this guy’s brain wasn’t much softer than steel. It was practically impossible to get him to change his mind.

The dashing John still wore his usual impassive expression. He raised his hat and nodded at Stephen, signaling that his journey had gone smoothly.

Although his expression was icy, Stephen could still tell that the young man seemed to be in a good mood.

After so long fighting side by side, Stephen had learned to read John's moods.

But while John could pull off such a cool and dashing demeanor, the same couldn’t be said for the others, especially Andre and his crew.

Although they’d decided to join the gang after Hosea’s persuasion, they still felt a bit uneasy deep down.

In practice, this meant they always seemed a bit stiff and reserved when facing Stephen, the current leader.

And the thought that they might eventually have to face Dutch, that legendary “killing demon”, made them even more nervous.

“Mr. Stephen.”

Old Barry, being a bit more outgoing, smiled and waved at Stephen. Stephen didn’t put on airs. He approached them warmly and greeted each one by name.

Perhaps it was Stephen’s gentle demeanor that put them at ease. Even Andre, who’d crossed paths with Stephen before, relaxed and even took the initiative to pull cigarettes out of his pocket to share with everyone.

Juan, meanwhile, had appointed himself Stephen's number-one right-hand man. He hurried out with a box of matches to light everyone's cigarettes.

His self-image was crystal clear: he was Stephen’s errand boy and assistant. Plus, with his pleasant personality, silver tongue, and knack for getting along with people, he got along well with everyone.

After taking a drag, Stephen smiled and asked John, “So, how’s everyone at the camp?”

With things in Tumbleweed still uncertain, John wasn't about to risk bringing the people from camp with him. He and Juan had come with only Andre, Old Barry, and a few others.

“I’ve settled them in the Cholla Springs area. There’s an abandoned farm there.”

“That place has a great environment, even Ms. Grimshaw wants to grow crops there.”

John said calmly, “How are things in town?”

“You’re a bit early, the Del Lobo Gang hasn’t arrived yet.”

Stephen turned and waved his hand toward the town. “But I’ve already arranged lodging and food for you in town. I’m sure you’ll be satisfied.”

“Of course they won’t be coming.”

John said coldly, “They’re swamped right now.”

Stephen raised an eyebrow. It seemed John had brought him quite a few surprises.

Juan quickly chimed in, “We ran into some Del Lobo Gang men on the way here and took them out.”

“We got the locations of two of their camps out of them, too. John led us in and we raided both places!”

“Whoa, looks like you guys did a great job.”

Stephen said with some surprise, “I was wondering why those Del Lobo Gang guys hadn’t shown up yet, turns out you guys took them out!”

They'd been here for four or five days. Even the slowest members of the Del Lobo Gang should have realized by now that something was wrong in Tumbleweed. Stephen thought they were planning something big, but apparently all they had done was take one enormous dump.

“Haha, we left some fake horse hoof prints for them when we left. I bet those guys are still out in the wilderness eating sand right now!”

Juan eagerly pulled a little pouch from his saddlebag, opened it, and held it out like a prize. 'Here's everything we took on the raid. I collected it all.'

Stephen looked down. Wow, it seemed they’d made quite a haul this time.

The bag was full of little pieces of raw gold, each one gleaming.

Although the color suggested it wasn’t very pure, they’d need to refine it to get a good price, even this small amount was already a fortune.

Stephen hefted the pouch. It must have weighed roughly one to two pounds, and after refining, there would probably be enough gold for more than half a bar.

After all, Stephen had once sold a single gold bar for a “sky-high price” of 600 dollars.

No wonder the Del Lobo Gang had managed to bounce back in just half a year, having a gold mine on hand really does make a difference.

Stephen smacked his lips enviously a couple of times, then grabbed a handful of gold nuggets from his pocket and shoved them directly into John’s hand.

Seeing the look of surprise on John’s face, Stephen smiled and said to the group, “You guys seized all this, so split it evenly among yourselves!”

At those words, Andre and the others were instantly overjoyed, their faces instantly lighting up with smiles.

After all, who wouldn’t love gleaming gold?

They hadn't divided the gold earlier for two reasons. First, even with Dutch gone, the Van der Linde Gang's rule of handing over half the loot still stood.

Second, they simply didn’t dare. That’s right, they didn’t dare.

Over the past few raids, Andre and the others had seen John's marksmanship firsthand. The speed and precision of his shooting had left them in awe.

To put it simply, they were in awe.

That’s just how it is out West: if you’re badass, people respect you.

Anyway, you can tell right now whether Andre and the others dare to talk back to John.

A gun killed a man in an instant, and John could draw and fire with terrifying speed and accuracy. No wonder they were afraid of him.

Stephen liked money as much as anyone, but now was no time to be stingy.

No matter when, money is always the best way to win people over. How does the saying go? “Any problem that can be solved with money isn’t really a problem.”

Andre and the others, upon receiving their share of gold, immediately broke into broad smiles and gleefully stuffed the gold into their pockets.

Two of the gunmen couldn’t even wait, they shoved the gold into their mouths and bit down on it, afraid they might be dreaming.

The amount of gold each person received wasn’t actually that much, but who would ever complain about having too much money in their pockets?

“All right, everyone. Let's head inside.”

Stephen waved them toward town. “Hosea's saloon should be about ready. Maybe we can be his first customers.”

In high spirits, the group followed Stephen into town. Without further ado, he led them straight toward the saloon.

Nothing could relax these men more than a drink.

As soon as they reached the saloon’s entrance, they saw Hosea standing there with three men, cleaning up.

Hosea stood at the doorway with his hands on his hips, looking every bit the overbearing boss as he barked orders at the three laborers, one moment telling them to sweep the floor, the next to wipe the windows.

Just as the men were hard at work, he suddenly decided on a whim that the saloon’s name wasn’t good enough, so he hurriedly ordered them to take down the sign.

“Hey, John!”

Seeing John arrive, Hosea quickly waved at him and said, “Come help me think of a name for my saloon!”

“It needs a good name. Old Hosea will be counting on this place to support him in his dotage.”

Seeing Hosea’s cheerful expression, John’s own expression gradually softened.

If Dutch was like a strict father to John, then Hosea was like a loving mother. John respected Hosea just as much as he did Dutch, if not more.

John wasn't exactly a scholar. He could barely read a newspaper or make out the numbers on a banknote. He examined the sign, glanced at Hosea, and finally shook his head helplessly.

“Hosea, maybe you shouldn’t have asked me...”

“Oh~ Maybe Arthur was right, your head really is made of wood.”

Hosea muttered the remark with drooping eyelids, then ignored him and turned to look at Stephen behind him.

“Stephen, do you have any thoughts?”

“Um… maybe you should figure it out yourself. After all, it’s your saloon.”

Naming things had never been Stephen's strong suit. What respectable person called his horses Snowy and Rusty?

Clearly, Hosea had only asked as an afterthought. He didn’t expect Stephen to offer any constructive suggestions in the first place.

“All right, all right. Let’s leave this trivial matter to old Hosea to figure out on his own. After all, you’re all people who handle big things.”

Hosea spread his hands wide and said with a hint of sarcasm, “Though maybe you could join old Hosea for a drink.”

“I’ll pass, but I think Mr. Andre would be more than happy to.”

Andre and the others behind Stephen quickly nodded. Judging by the constant bobbing of their throats, it was clear they’d been craving a drink for quite some time.

“Very good. The old owner left us quite a cellar. When I went down to clean it out, I found several bottles of excellent wine.”

Hosea waved to invite everyone inside, while Stephen waved back at them and turned to walk alone toward the mayor’s office.

He hadn’t forgotten why he was here today.

Compared to the shabby sheriff's office, the mayor’s office seemed much more luxurious.

Calling it an office was a stretch. It looked more like a villa.

It stood at the northern edge of town beside a small lake, with greenery all around, a rare sight in New Austin.

The white three-story building stood out sharply from the dark buildings that made up the rest of Tumbleweed.

Two guards with rifles slung over their shoulders stood at the villa’s entrance. Upon seeing Stephen arrive, they hurriedly opened the door to let him in.

These men were all Kevin’s men, young locals from the town who had been armed by Kevin and now looked quite the part.

They clearly all knew Stephen and held the new, outsider sheriff in great awe. After all, not just anyone would dare to openly fire at the Del Lobo Gang and treat them as mere vermin.

Stephen smiled and nodded at them, then walked straight inside.

The interior of the villa was quite spacious. The natural wood-colored floor made the entire room look clean and tidy, creaking softly with each step.

The large windows were open, and white curtains stirred gently in the breeze.

The place had clearly been converted on short notice. The walls were still adorned with numerous ornate trinkets, including a massive portrait hanging on the wall directly opposite the door.

The portrait depicted a middle-aged man dressed like a distinguished British aristocrat.

“That’s a portrait of Mr. Howard, he’s the one who founded Tumbleweed.”

Stephen turned around and saw Kevin standing on the stairs, leaning with one hand on the banister as he explained to Stephen: “He was a British nobleman, he’s the one who founded Tumbleweed right here in the middle of this desert.”

That wasn't surprising. America was a nation of immigrants, built in large part by people who had crossed the Atlantic from Europe.

During the westward expansion, impoverished nobles from the Old World had been a force in their own right, alongside cowboys and farmers.

Just look at Strawberry, isn’t it the same story?

“What about the Howard family? Where did they go?”

Stephen asked curiously. The villa he was currently in must have belonged to the Howard family. Judging by its appearance, the family must have been quite prominent back in the day, so why wasn’t a single person to be seen now?

Kevin shook his head and said with a touch of sadness, “They’re all dead.”

“Do you know Fort Mercer?”

Stephen knew Fort Mercer well. It had once been Michael's home, and now it was the base of the Del Lobo Gang.

“Of course, but what does that have to do with the Edwards family?”

“It has everything to do with them.”

Kevin pointed to the portrait on the wall and said, “Back then, Fort Mercer was the Edwards’ stronghold.”

“During the Civil War, the Edwards supported the Union Army. They received aid from the Union and established Fort Mercer there.”

“Later, when the Confederacy’s defeat was imminent, those men refused to accept the outcome. They wanted to pass through here and flee to Mexico, but Fort Mercer stood as a thorn in the side of their escape route.”

Stephen nodded in realization. No wonder he’d always felt that Fort Mercer’s location was a bit odd, it turned out to be because of this.

“After several years of war, not only was Fort Mercer left in ruins, but the Edward family was also torn to shreds.”

“They suffered heavy casualties, but when the spoils were divided after the war, they were left out.”

Kevin said with a sigh, “At the end of the day, they were just a local militia from a small town, not a regular army, nor were they capitalists. In the end, they were simply forgotten. The government didn’t even provide them with a token pension.”

That was America for you. It had always treated its soldiers that way.

Soldiers are only useful when there’s a war. Once the war’s over, who even remembers you?

Ask for your pension? Send in the tanks!

Kevin’s tone was very subdued, as if he were reminiscing about something. Stephen didn’t interrupt but simply listened quietly.

“After the war, a terrible epidemic swept through Tumbleweed and killed countless people. Between the outbreak, political upheaval, and other troubles, the Edwards family fell so far that they couldn't even keep the mayor's office.”

“In the end, only one member remained of this once-glorious family.”

“Who?”

“The man who adopted me. William Howard, the sheriff who died leading the militia against the Del Lobo Gang.”