The Story Of Red Dead Redemption

Chapter 64: The Pinkertons

Sheriff Malloy placed a cup of coffee in front of Arthur and said with a smile.

"Try this. I had these beans brought in from Saint Denis. Much better than the garbage Jacob sells. Genuine South African plantation coffee. Go on, give it a taste."

Arthur sat on the edge of his chair, his mind already racing through the possible scenarios he might face. Malloy had already been in contact with the Pinkertons. What would he choose? Would he still stand by Arthur's side?

To be honest, Arthur was a little nervous.

"Don't be so tense. Remember? We have an understanding. And look, you're sitting here just fine, drinking my best coffee. Relax, everything's alright," Malloy said as he walked over to his desk. He unlocked a drawer and pulled out a stack of wanted posters, placing the top one gently in front of Arthur.

The gesture put Arthur at ease.

"Hey, this doesn't look like me," Arthur said with a laugh. Seeing that the wanted poster had been kept in a locked drawer, Arthur knew Malloy had chosen to remain on his side.

"The important part isn't the drawing. Look at the bounty. I haven't seen a reward this high in a long time. You know Billy the Kid? A legendary outlaw, famous across the country. I was young back then, but I remember clearly—his bounty was only $5,000," Malloy said, clicking his tongue as if reminiscing.

Arthur glanced at the amount. His bounty wasn't even as high as Billy the Kid's.

"Alright, since you've decided not to turn me in for the reward, tell me what's going on with these Pinkerton detectives," Arthur said, picking up the coffee and taking a sip at Malloy's urging.

The coffee was fragrant and less bitter than what he usually drank, but otherwise, it didn't seem particularly special.

Seeing Arthur set the cup down after just one sip, Malloy stopped beating around the bush.

"I don't know where they heard it, but they told me there were rumors that the Van der Linde gang was hiding out in Valentine. They were here to investigate. But don't worry, I denied it. I told them there's no Van der Linde gang in Valentine. Unfortunately, I don't think Agent Milton believed me. Luckily, he doesn't have the authority to push me around."

"So, they just left?" Arthur asked skeptically.

"No way. Like I said, I don't think the old agent bought my story. After they left, I sent Cole to follow them. Guess where they went?"

"The carriage driver?"

"Huh? How'd you guess? You really live up to that bounty of yours. Yeah, they got into the carriage driver's wagon. As for where they went, Cole lost track of them, so don't ask me."

Malloy suspected Cole had been spotted and deliberately shaken off. After all, how could someone on horseback lose a carriage? But he didn't dwell on it. Not everything goes according to plan.

Arthur was rolling his eyes when suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. Malloy stopped Arthur, who had instantly risen to his feet and drawn his gun, telling him to stay calm.

The two men stood still, watching the door and waiting. The knocking continued, and a voice shouted from outside.

"Sheriff! Sheriff! Are you in there? I need to report a crime! My carriage's been stolen!"

Malloy glanced back at Arthur, who had already holstered his gun and sat back down. Only then did Malloy open the door.

"Sheriff! You've got to help me!" The man burst in, wailing loudly. He was a pitiful sight, covered head to toe in mud, his coat missing, and wearing nothing but a patched-up shirt.

Arthur recognized him immediately—it was the carriage driver he had hired the other day.

The driver spotted Arthur and, to his credit, immediately stopped wailing. He apologized profusely.

"Mr. Callahan! I'm so sorry! You see, I got caught up in this mess, and it delayed your trip. I don't know how I got so unlucky, picking up two bandits."

Arthur waved it off, saying it was no big deal. Malloy then asked.

"What did these 'bandits' do to you?"

"Sheriff, you wouldn't believe it! I thought it was just a regular job, so I didn't think much of it. But after I dropped them off, they claimed to be some kind of agents and demanded I cooperate with their investigation. I figured, sure, I haven't done anything illegal, right? But then they started asking me about some names. I told them I hadn't heard of them. One of the names was 'Arthur Morgan.' I thought it was such a coincidence because I had a customer named Arthur tomorrow…"

The driver grew more and more upset, eventually breaking into tears.

"Those two weren't agents at all! They stripped me of my clothes, stole my carriage, and left me out in the middle of nowhere…"

Malloy and Arthur exchanged a glance. They both knew these were the Pinkerton detectives Cole had lost track of.

In the end, Arthur told the driver to head to the Saints Inn, where his carriage was parked and unharmed. This finally stopped the man's crying.

The driver thanked Arthur profusely, even attempting to hug him, but Arthur quickly declined. Who knew what else was mixed in with all that mud?

After the driver left, Arthur turned to Malloy with a serious expression.

"I ran into something strange today too."

"Go on," Malloy said, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag.

"The carriage driver who was supposed to pick me up today—well, you just saw him. But someone else showed up in his carriage, calling me 'Mr. Morgan,'" Arthur said, watching Malloy closely. He wasn't suspecting Malloy of anything; he just wanted to hear the sheriff's thoughts.

Malloy looked puzzled.

"What's there to think about? It's obviously the Pinkertons."

"Then why go through all the trouble? If they suspected Arthur Callahan was me, they could've just set up an ambush. That fake driver didn't even have a gun, and from the looks of it, he might not have even known what he was doing," Arthur pointed out, voicing his suspicions.

Malloy thought for a moment, then offered his take.

"Maybe they wanted to talk to you. Peacefully?"

Arthur nodded. He had considered that possibility too.

At first, Arthur hadn't thought it was the Pinkertons. He had assumed it was someone eyeing his business, wanting to negotiate.

***

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