novelSusiti Chapter 17 The Van der Linde Gang's Rise to Fame
Chapter 17 The Van der Linde Gang's Rise to Fame
"Achoo!"
In the corridor of the state capitol building in Sacramento, Dutch sneezed loudly and then blew his nose with a handkerchief.
John Sartre, who was standing next to him, looked over and asked, "Mr. Van der Linde, do you have a cold?"
"He probably caught a cold, after all, there's no sunlight at all in this damn government building." Dutch shrugged, not caring at all.
"Alright, we're here. Let's go in."
Above the office door in the corridor hung a brass plaque for the Secretary of State's office. Pushing the door open, one found several clerks engrossed in their work.
Dutch and Sartre walked to the nearest window. The young clerk sitting in the back looked up and asked in a tired, formulaic tone, "Gentlemen, what kind of service do you need?"
"Register a new mining company,"
Dutch slipped a neatly filled-out parchment document, which he had prepared beforehand, under the window, with a quarter-eagle gold coin tucked inside.
"Sir, please hurry, we're in a rush."
As the clerk's fingers touched the document, they also touched the quarter-eagle gold coin. He quickly and skillfully tucked the coin under the counter, his tone becoming warmer.
"Okay, please wait a moment."
He quickly scanned the entries in the document, while helping to correct some formatting errors.
When his gaze fell on the registered capital section, he frowned slightly and asked, "Gentlemen, are you sure this section on registered capital is correct?"
"Of course not," Dutch said with a smile.
"OK."
The clerk picked up the heavy bronze seal from the table, dipped it in ink, and pressed it firmly onto the designated spot on the document with a "thud." He then handed back a copy of the stamped document to the window.
"Alright, gentlemen, Sutter Land and Mining Development Corporation has been officially incorporated in California. Here is your certificate of incorporation; please keep it safe."
Dutch and John Sutter put away the paper and left the office.
Another clerk sitting opposite the first clerk asked curiously, "George, is there a problem with the registration amount of those two gentlemen?"
The clerk named George glanced at the doorway to make sure the person was out of sight before shaking his head: "The documents are perfect, everything's in order. I was just startled by the numbers on them."
"Number? Registered capital? How much?" The clerk on the other end of the line was even more curious.
George held up one finger: "One million dollars!"
"How much? A million? Even the wealthiest bankers and mine owners in Sacramento wouldn't dare write that, would they? Who are they?"
The clerk across from him almost jumped out of her chair. "My God, I've never seen a company fill in this number in my entire life! Even if it's bragging, this is way too outrageous."
George shrugged and locked the archived original document in the drawer. "Who knows? In California, unexpected people and things happen every day."
Dutch and John Sutter, already seated in their carriage, were unaware of the conversation inside the office. Sutter, looking at the company registered in his name, asked, "Mr. Van der Linde, why such a large amount?"
"Anyway, we don't have to actually pay, and if we need financing in the future, it can attract more fools." Dutch smiled slightly.
"So what's next?" John Sartre asked, somewhat bewildered.
"What happens next? All you have to do is enjoy life, Mr. Sartre."
"Have a good drink, read the newspaper, or go to a dance and find a young, beautiful lady to date."
Dutch leaned back comfortably in his chair, took out a cigar, lit it, and said, "As for those who have occupied your land and owe you blood debts, there are professionals to handle that. Arthur and his lads will take care of them for you, piece by piece, using physical means."
He flicked his cigarette ash as if suddenly remembering something: "Oh, by the way, Mr. Sartre. Do you have a trustworthy lawyer? The kind who is familiar with California property law and mining disputes."
John Sutter paused, snapping out of his reverie about revenge: "A lawyer? Yes, there is one. The young man who helped me with the land case against the state government, Robert Michell. He's young, but very talented and resilient."
"Very good. Remember to officially hire him as soon as possible under the company's name and give him a generous salary commensurate with his talent."
"After all, in the days that followed, every step we took to reclaim our assets, whether in mines, farms, or towns, inevitably involved reasoning with all sorts of people," said Dodge.
Physical matters are handled by Arthur, while legal matters require such professionals. We must ensure that all actions, at least on paper, appear to conform to the rules of this land.
Meanwhile, in the Sacramento Valley.
The rushing snowmelt from the high Sierra Nevada Mountains slows down as it reaches the valley, becoming calm and abundant.
On both sides of the river, there are vast expanses of neatly cultivated land, stretching as far as the eye can see.
The white ranchers who occupied this land had long ago used iron and fire to erase all traces of the original inhabitants, replacing them with fields and pastures.
Golden waves of wheat, emerald green alfalfa, grapevines bearing fruit, and vast orchards create a new scenic landscape here.
"What a wonderful place! No wonder Mr. Sartre was so fond of this land."
Led by Arthur, the cavalry crossed the plains, galloping tirelessly towards their destination.
Their target this time was a small gold mine located on the northeastern edge of the Sacramento Valley, in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.
Charles rode his horse while reading aloud the intelligence provided by Dutch.
"This gold mine is not owned by a company, but is managed by a mining camp. Anyone can go in and dig as long as they pay an entry fee and a refining fee."
"The head of the mining camp is Valentine Craig, who has a dozen or so men. He was one of the murderers who killed Mr. Sartre's son."
After listening, Arthur asked, "What are your thoughts, Charles?"
"The terrain of this camp might be a bit troublesome. If we launch a direct assault, they could easily escape. And if they hide in the mines, that would also be a problem," Charles said.
Arthur said, "Let them escape if they want. They're lucky. We don't have time to waste there."
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.
On the gentle slope where the valley meets the plain, there is a dark mine entrance, with people constantly going in and out.
Not far from the mine pit was a row of messy shacks. Diagonally opposite the shacks was a mining machine powered by the water power of the nearby stream, with its huge wooden hammers rising and falling.
The miners poured the collected ore into the feed inlet, where hammers would crush the ore into powder little by little. Then, water would carry the powder into a mercury-coated amalgam plate.
The gold was captured by mercury and turned into a silvery-white paste. The paste was placed in a sealed cast iron still and heated. When the still was opened, a loose, porous gold nugget was revealed.
The camp leader, Valentine Craig, was a burly, middle-aged man with a thick beard. He stood by the refining table, placing the gold nuggets on the scales to weigh them.
"This batch is about seventeen ounces."
He announced gruffly, then pointed to a handwritten, crooked fee schedule on the wall, "The four of you have been here for half a month. The entrance fee is one dollar per person per day. That's sixty dollars for the four of you for fifteen days, which is about three ounces of gold. We'll use my machine and mercury to refine it, and I'll take a forty percent cut."
After deducting the impurities from the gold, you guys can get seven ounces for $140.
He took out seven double-eagle gold coins and tossed them to the four dusty miners.
What?!
One of the young miners immediately became agitated, his face flushed red, and he angrily questioned, "Craig, you said yourself when we came in that you would only take 20% of the refining fees. Now you're taking so much; what's the difference between this and robbery?"
"The difference? The difference is, here, I set the price, and that's how you pay!"
Valentine Craig gripped the revolver at his waist and said rudely, "You think it's too expensive? You think it's unfair? Fine, then get lost!"
The henchmen who had been scattered around drinking and gambling also gathered around, each with their hands in their holsters and a sinister grin on their faces, trapping the four miners in the middle.
The miners in the distance stood still and watched the show. They had all been tricked by this rule before and were happy to see the newcomers fall for it.
The four miners, seeing the gleaming gun barrels around them and Craig's fierce gaze, finally glared resentfully at the people around them, took their money, and left.
"Pah, coward!"
Watching the four men leave in a disheveled state, Valentine Craig laughed triumphantly and spat a mouthful of phlegm on the ground.
He called out to his henchmen, "Guys, the harvest's been good these days. After work tonight, let's go to the tavern in town. All-you-can-eat whiskey, order as many women as you like, it's on me!"
"Long live the boss!" one of the henchmen shouted excitedly. "I want the girl with the biggest ass! I want to pick her up and do her!"
"You?" his companion laughed. "You'd better watch out, or you might get sat on and killed by that big ass!"
"Fine, the one with the biggest butt is yours!"
Craig laughed even more unrestrainedly, patting his chest, "I want that redhead with breasts like two mountains..."
His laughter abruptly stopped, his expression changed drastically, his ears twitched, and he turned his head to look at the only dirt road leading out of the mine. "Wait, what's that sound?"
His underlings also listened intently; a dull rumbling sound came from the ground, growing clearer and more intense.
One of his men said uncertainly, "Perhaps it's a passing caravan? After all, the mountain path next to it leads to the town, and people occasionally pass through there?"
"No, the sounds are too frequent and urgent, and they're coming this way!"
Valentine Craig reacted swiftly, drawing his revolver and immediately taking cover behind a rock: "Everyone, guns out, get on guard, find cover! Quickly!"
Chaos erupted in the mine. His men scrambled to hide among the mine carts, piles of timber, and rocks, frantically drawing their weapons. The miners scattered in terror, fleeing the mine.
A few minutes later, more than thirty riders surrounded the small mine.
Without a word, the four most skilled riders and strongest warriors in the group were already ready.
They lit the explosive charges in their hands, the fuses hissing as they burned, but they remained calm. Using their strength, they swung their arms and swiftly threw the explosive charges at the last moment!
The explosive charge traced a brief arc in the air and landed precisely behind or above several bunkers where people could take cover!
"My God! It's dynamite!"
"Run! Run!"
The people behind the cover were terrified, their survival instincts driving them to scream and scramble out of what they thought were safe hiding places.
But it was a little late.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
A series of deafening roars rang out, and the blazing flames and thick smoke instantly engulfed those areas, startling away the birds and beasts in the forest.
A few unlucky guys had explosives land right next to them, and they were violently thrown out along with the mine carts they were hiding in. They crashed to the ground bleeding from all seven orifices, clearly beyond saving.
Several others, slightly further out, were also struck on the head by flying pebbles, or thrown over by the scorching heat, lying on the ground groaning in pain.
"Madmen, a bunch of reckless madmen!"
Valentine Craig was cursing and ranting, not even having time to escape, which meant that the fuse of the explosive charge had become extremely short when it fell, and he could blow himself up if he wasn't careful.
"My God, where did this group of lunatics come from?!"
But he had no time to think, because the cavalry had already charged in. Craig's men, who were injured or terrified and hadn't even had time to raise their weapons, were shot dead in the first instant.
Several revolvers were pointed at him, and he froze on the spot, his hands trembling as he raised them: "Don't kill me, you can have all the gold!"
"Send two men to interrogate Valentine Craig and take all the gold from him," Arthur said. "The rest of you, sweep up the spoils. Search every house, every corpse, every saddlebag, every corner. Gold, weapons, every valuable item—leave nothing behind!"
"Arthur, what about the remaining miners?" someone shouted.
Arthur glanced at the terrified faces and said, "They can leave, but make sure they leave their money!"
"If he doesn't want to leave any money, then let him stay here forever!"
The assassins immediately dispersed and began their search.
Under the threat of gunfire, the miners trembled as they handed over their ill-gotten gains and fled in panic toward the outside of the mountains without looking back, fearing that these menacing figures might change their minds.
After using some tricks on Valentine Craig, he also coughed up all the gold.
Thirty minutes later, Arthur and his men left with over six hundred ounces of gold and dozens of horses, leaving behind more than a dozen corpses and a devastated mine.
In the following days, they raided four small gold mines, a farm, and a ranch in various parts of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.
The Van der Linde gang's infamous reputation spread throughout Northern California with each of these attacks.