Such carefree times were always fleeting.

  That afternoon, Dutch called everyone together, indicating something significant was about to happen.

  Stephen, curious, followed behind the group, not intending to participate, but wanting to see what was going on.

  Hosea stood beside Dutch, arguing heatedly, their opinions clearly clashing. Stephen hadn't seen Hosea so agitated before.

  "The weather's improved, we can move out whenever. I thought we were keeping a low profile. I don't want to see any more deaths, Dutch." Worry etched itself onto his face; he clearly disapproved of his old friend's plan.

  "We're alive, Hosea. Look at me, we're not dead, and neither are you. But to live, we need money. We lost everything in Blackwater. Surely you don't want to go back there?" Dutch replied, securing his saddle on his horse.

  "Of course not, that's a death wish. Listen, Dutch, I'm not trying to undermine you, I just want to keep things quiet, avoid trouble, and return to the West. But now we're planning to rob a train. Leviticus Cornwall isn't someone to be trifled with, Dutch..."

  "Cornwall? You're talking about Cornwall?" Stephen recognized the name.

  "Yeah, what about him? Who is this Cornwall anyway? Can anyone tell me?" Arthur looked around, curious, feeling like he was the only one in the dark.

  "A major capitalist, a big businessman, a mining magnate, and the primary benefactor behind the Pinkertons. His influence stretches across several states; he's the uncrowned king of this region." Stephen, having been around for a while, knew a thing or two.

  Cornwall was often in the newspapers; Stephen had seen his news more than once.

  It was always either about how much money he'd donated or how many people had died in his factories. The contrast perfectly showcased the irony of American society.

  He also poured money into the Pinkertons, tasking them with dismantling any worker organizations that threatened his business in his factories, and assassinating their leaders.

  In other words, the Pinkertons were Cornwall's dogs, biting wherever he pointed.

  "A business tycoon, sounds like he has a lot to share," Dutch said flippantly.

  Deep down, he believed all these so-called upper-class types were useless fools, not worth worrying about.

  "Don't worry, Hosea, we'll succeed, and no one else will die," Dutch stated confidently. "Mr. Stephen, while we're away, I'd be grateful if you could help protect the elderly and the women."

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  "Sure thing," Stephen shrugged, his tone light.

  "Thank you, I appreciate it immensely." As soon as he finished speaking, Dutch waved his hand, signaling everyone to prepare to leave.

  Seeing this, Hosea felt helpless. He weakly released Dutch's reins, watching him lead the others away.

  Dutch had become like a wild horse; he was old and couldn't hold him back.

  "Do you think this is a good idea?"

  After a long silence, when Dutch and the others were no longer visible, Hosea slowly turned to Stephen.

  His tone was melancholy, laced with weariness.

  "I don't know, I'm not a robber; I'm just a bounty hunter," Stephen said, shaking his head. "But I do know one thing: no bandit who lives by the sword ever gets to grow old in peace."

  Stephen lit a cigarette and offered one to Hosea.

  Hosea took a slow puff, the strong smoke making him cough. Stephen quickly patted him on the back and handed him a flask of water.

  The old man drank half the flask in one go, finally feeling a little better.

  The two stood silently under the tree, smoking. Hosea seemed lost in thought, sighing constantly.

  Stephen finally couldn't help but ask, "Do you really want to retire?"

  Hosea looked at Stephen, surprised, wondering why he'd asked.

  Stephen cleared his throat, trying to sound as calm as possible. "Maybe you're harboring illusions, but I've read a lot of books, history books and others. Anyway, I've never heard of any notorious outlaw managing to rob a fortune and then retire peacefully to enjoy it."

  Hosea quickly tried to argue, "But this is America, this is a land of freedom..."

  "Do you really think so? Don't fool yourself, Hosea. You're a smart man. You can't pull off one big score and retire comfortably like you imagine." Stephen shattered Hosea's dream without hesitation.

  "Maybe as an outsider, I shouldn't say this, but..." Stephen hesitated, unsure whether to continue.

  "Say it. There's no one else here, just the two of us. I promise no one else will know what's said here today," Hosea urged, knowing he was holding back.

  Stephen looked around. Everyone else was busy packing, just waiting for Dutch and the others to return so they could leave immediately.

  Under Hosea's expectant gaze, Stephen finally said slowly, "You only have two paths now. One is to continue like this recklessly, and die a blaze of glory, and the other is..."

  Stephen looked at the old man and said slowly, "Go straight."

  "What?" Hosea didn't understand. Stephen explained, "It means turning yourself to the government, working for the government, and becoming legitimate."

  Hosea stood there, stunned. He hadn't expected Stephen to say that. But thinking about it, it seemed like the only path.

  "We could go overseas, to a place where no one knows us," Hosea still struggled.

  Stephen didn't know how to explain it to Hosea.

  In another eight or nine years, the United States would establish an organization called the Bureau of Investigation, which would later become the FBI.

  The purpose of this organization was specifically to target people like the Van der Linde gang.

  If they wanted to settle scores, to arrest and hang these people, they would never escape.

  Unless they left American territory, the American government would find them no matter where they went.

  But war was coming, and the whole world would become a wasteland. Where could they run then?

  "Think about it carefully," Stephen said, deciding not to say anymore.

  They were all smart people, especially Hosea. It wasn't that he didn't understand, he had just been deceiving himself.

  "I'm just giving you advice. It's your decision," Stephen said, finishing his cigarette and turning to walk towards his room.

  He had to pack his things too.