After crossing the square and walking a short distance, you'll reach an estate, which happens to be the Sheffield family's estate. There are already many carriages waiting inside the estate, clearly indicating that today is an important day here.
Adjusting his necktie, William Sheffield slowly descended from his carriage. At that moment, another carriage came to a halt, and a middle-aged woman stepped out. Although she had left behind the greenness of her youth, she exuded a rare sense of competence in this era. Her golden short hair gave her a sharp and commanding look, instantly revealing her as an uncommon strong woman of her time.
It was January 1895 in Texas, and the winters were relatively short. There was no need for such heavy clothing, but this woman was wrapped in thick fur, indicating that she had just returned from a distant place.
"Aunt Isabella!" William greeted the middle-aged lady who had just stepped off her carriage, nodding politely. "You've just returned from the North, I presume? How have you been lately?"
Isabella glanced at her nephew, sighed in frustration, and said, "Not good at all. The members of the Rifle Association are dwindling. People nowadays, none of them seem to be buying guns anymore. It's quite vexing."
"That's indeed bad news! But that's the Chairman's concern; you're the Vice Chairman, Aunt Isabella," William shrugged, empathizing with the situation.
The headquarters of the American Rifle Association was located in Virginia, and the association had its origins during the American Civil War. The geographical location alone spoke volumes about the situation. Virginia was the epicenter of the South during the Civil War, and the South, which relied heavily on agriculture, had a strong culture of hunting and so-called gun-toting cowboys. This contributed to the fact that in the early days of the Civil War, Southern soldiers were far more skilled in marksmanship than their Northern counterparts.
While various nations had their own differences and stereotypes, with the Northerners generally being more industrious and the Southerners excelling in economics, the United States was the opposite. During the Civil War, the North, in terms of both economy and population, was several times larger than the South. However, during the war, the casualties on both sides were disproportionately higher for the Southern Confederate forces.
The Civil War coincided with a crucial period in the history of firearms development, with innovations like Minié balls and rifled barrels enhancing the Southern advantage. Realizing this, a veteran from the North had stepped forward and loudly proclaimed, "We need to teach Northerners, no, all Americans, how to play with guns."
Edward Sheffield, after being injured in the war, felt that he might not have much time left and used his remaining time to adopt a strategy similar to Durant's: "I may not be able to beat you, but I can join you." When he heard that the North was forming a Rifle Association, he began to lay the groundwork for infiltrating the association.
"Vice Chairman, what's happening? The membership is dwindling, and this will affect our family's factories. If we can't sell firearms, it's our loss! William, you may be academically accomplished, but you still lack practical experience," Isabella looked at her fortunate nephew, unwilling to continue the conversation. If she had to name the biggest failure in the Sheffield family, it would be her brother, the rightful heir, who had spent more time in Paris than in the United States.
"Aunt, I don't mean it that way, but this is the current situation. Without a war outbreak, there's not much we can do!" William sighed, acknowledging that these were challenging times for the American Rifle Association.
Of course, for a self-proclaimed non-profit organization like this, austerity was expected. However, after being infiltrated by some Southern remnants, there were always those who wanted to use the Rifle Association for their own gain. How could they reason with such individuals?
Isabella didn't care about the fate of the Rifle Association, but as the Vice Chairman, she was deeply concerned about the declining membership and its impact on the Sheffield family's arms factory sales.
William had no doubt that his family, the Sheffields, would be pioneers if there was a way to profit from murder. They would certainly do it. Nobody wanted to engage in unprofitable transactions, but when it came to deals that could cost them their heads, there would be a scramble.
Inside the Sheffield estate, the decor was exquisite. In a massive conference room, a woman with a full head of white hair, yet exuding elegance and an air of composure between her eyebrows, listened quietly to the discussions of others.
Slowly, the conference room fell into silence. The men who had been impassioned just moments ago dared not even breathe loudly. All eyes were on Annabelle. Even at her age, traces of her youthful beauty could still be discerned on her face. Of course, this wasn't the most crucial factor. The others didn't kneel under Annabelle's pomegranate skirt; they came here because of her status.
"It's a difficult situation, indeed. It seems our comrades who escaped couldn't hold out," Annabelle said, lowering her head to rub her wedding ring on her finger. "My husband used to say that they would regret running to Brazil sooner or later. We did everything we could to secure a conditional ceasefire with Yang Jilao. In a foreign land like Brazil, what more could they expect? In the end, this was an inevitable outcome."
"Annabelle, we can't blame ourselves for falling into the same pit twice. The Brazilian government isn't compensating for the plantation losses, which involve billions in assets. Just like with Yang Jilao thirty years ago, it's easy to sign decrees, but who will compensate for our losses? The events in the United States are already three decades past, and we can't say much about it now. But the plantation owners who fled to Brazil initially were all our friends and relatives. Many families have been divided because of this, and now they can't hold on anymore. What should we do?"
"Yes, there's no compensation at all. This is outright robbery."
People started chiming in one after another. The events unfolding in Brazil at this moment reminded them of the American Civil War thirty years ago. For them, it had always been a thorn in their hearts, which had not only failed to heal but had been rekindled because of the precarious situation of many plantation owners in Brazil.
"So, what do you propose? Mobilize relatives from various states, grab some guns, and start a war?" Annabelle blurted out with a frosty expression. "If it weren't for the fact that we all know each other, and my husband was a sentimental man, would the Sheffield family, which has already transformed itself, still participate in the Civil War? Edward was shot on the battlefield, suffering from chronic lead poisoning. How do you calculate that? I became a widow at a young age, and no amount of money can bring back my husband's life."
"It's been six years since the Brazilian abolition law appeared. Have you seen the attitudes of various countries? Back then, you also hoped for mediation from the British Empire, but in the end, no mediation came. Edward used to say that the British are untrustworthy; they are hypocrites. Slavs I bought from Eastern Europe are more trustworthy than them."
Thank goodness, it passed the review. Tonight, a friend is hosting a banquet, but it shouldn't delay the update.