North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws

Today was Dean's twenty-second birthday.

The main reason, of course, was that Old Laine had once wanted to adopt Dean and have him continue the Lucchese surname. This led Sheila to watch him closely and rarely allow Dean to stay here alone, so the cowboys weren't very familiar with him.

But these were all minor matters.

Dean downed a small jug of corn whiskey in one go and was immediately welcomed by them.

During the conversation, Dean realized that this group of cowboys must be the Mafia who had sided with Old Laine's generation. Having lost in their struggles, they had followed him here to make a living.

In fact, they had left just in time. A few years later, the FBI conducted a massive purge against these Mafiosos.

While they weren't eradicated, those once-glamorous bosses had either gone to prison or bled out on the streets. In contrast, the early departees like Old Laine's group now mostly had families and successful careers.

Now, the Italian Mafia in the United States had rebounded and taken on a new form, infiltrating the entertainment industry. However, it was no longer as powerful as before. Like a dog with broken bones, it kept a low profile. Their legends were now only told in Hollywood movies.

「Evening came.」

The cowboys left with their families.

Old Laine led a brown pony, roughly 1.2 meters tall, to Dean's side. "My grandson, I once promised you that I would pick out a quarter horse with excellent bloodlines for you. Come, give it a try."

Known for horse racing in the United States, the Quarter Horse was also widely loved by Western cowboys, serving as the best partner for a cowboy before the era of mechanization.

Even now, a high-quality quarter racehorse was worth at least $100,000.

This was a very valuable gift.

Although Dean had never ridden a horse himself, he had memories related to this in this life.

With a somewhat nervous heart, he wanted to touch the pony, to see if it would reject him.

As soon as Dean approached, the pony became uneasy, stamping on the grass and continuously backing away.

Old Laine frowned and comfortingly stroked the pony's head, puzzled. "Dean, have you been in contact with any wild animals recently?"

Dean suddenly realized, "Yes, I went into the mountains and killed a few gray wolves."

With that, he signaled Thompson with his eyes.

Thompson hurriedly ran to the car outside and brought out three rolls of neatly wrapped wolf pelts.

The three wolf pelts had already been simply processed but needed further refinement to be used for decoration or made into clothing.

"These are the gifts I prepared for you," Dean said.

Laine picked up the pelts and shook them, smelling the raw scent on them, a smile spread across his face. "These are adult North American gray wolves, Dean. It seems you're in luck—these are rare around here."

The gift exchange sparked a jovial atmosphere.

「It was close to ten at night.」

Sheila went with Thompson and Sinclair to chat with the grandmother.

Dean and the men followed Old Laine into the living room of the house.

It had the feel of an Italian council hall.

A five- to six-meter-long table, two rows of neat oak chairs, and behind the central, prominent seat hung a portrait of a handsome man with black hair.

Upon closer examination, the man bore some resemblance to Dean in facial features, but his eyes were deeper.

Below the frame, there was also a line of small text: House Lucchesi.

He was Old Laine's father and also the founder of a branch of the Lucchese family.

Old Laine sat at the head of the table, picked up a soup spoon, and tapped on the plate, his weather-beaten face showing fatigue. "Gentlemen, as part of the Lucchese family, we now face a great dilemma."