The rattling of the streetcar echoed in the carriage as James Carter gazed at the landscape with a serene yet distant expression. He was a twenty-two-year-old young man, with an elegant bearing and a cold gaze, more accustomed to silence than to conversation. Beside him, an older man with a kind face and curious eyes took a seat.

"What do you think of this new transportation without the need for horses?" the old man asked with a smile.

"Excellent," James replied, without taking his eyes off the window.

"Where are you headed, young man?"

"To Houston. I’m going to continue with the family business."

"And what business is that?"

"Jewelry."

The old man nodded with interest as James, with few words, recounted his story. He had been raised by his father, Charles Carter, a millionaire jeweler who had not only taught him the art of goldsmithing but also how to defend himself from the envious and the criminal. From the age of ten, he had been crafting his first pieces, and by sixteen he had opened his first store. His talent and determination had led him to amass a fortune by the age of nineteen, and now Houston represented a new opportunity after the Civil War.

The years in Houston were prosperous. James’s store became an overwhelming success, attracting the city’s elite with jewelry of unmatched quality. However, fate had other plans for him.

One night, feeling the need to relax after a long day, James decided to step into a bar. As he pushed the doors open, the sound of the piano greeted him. The place was almost empty, save for the bartender—a tall man with thick mustaches—and the pianist, who was playing a strange tune.

"Good evening," James said as he approached the bar. "I’d like a glass of whiskey."

The bartender looked at him with curiosity while serving the drink.
"I see you’re new around here."

"Actually, I’ve been in the city for some time, but my business keeps me busy."

Before he could take another sip of his whiskey, the bar door opened again. A man with an arrogant expression approached with determined steps and tapped him on the shoulder.

"So you’re the new jeweler," he said with a mocking sneer. "I’m in the same trade, but it seems you want to take my customers."

James didn’t reply. His father had taught him that the best way to deal with mediocre people was to ignore them. He focused on his drink and ordered another round.

Offended by the indifference, the man threw his own glass to the floor, shattering it into pieces.

"My name is Henry Blackwell, and I am your superior. Don’t forget it."

James looked at him calmly. Henry, emboldened by his own arrogance, tried to lunge at him, but with a swift movement, James knocked him to the ground. In a corner, a man who had been watching the scene smiled faintly before standing and walking over.

Henry rose with his face red with anger.
"I will get my revenge for this! I’ll ruin your business and your life," he growled before storming out of the bar.

The stranger who had observed the scene approached and extended his hand with a friendly smile.
"You’re smart not to let yourself be provoked by a third-rate jeweler," he said in a cordial tone. "My name is Samuel Thompson. I’m part of a select group of businessmen in this city. I see you attract high society with your jewelry. I’d like to invite you to a meeting tonight. I’ll introduce you to some influential men. Do you accept?"

James shook his hand and accepted the invitation. That night, a luxurious carriage stopped in front of his store. The coachman stepped down and opened the door with a respectful gesture.

"Are you Mr. James Carter?"

"I am," James replied, dressed in an elegant suit he usually wore for his hometown conferences.

He climbed into the carriage, and they set off toward the mansion where the meeting would take place. Upon arrival, he was greeted by an instrumental melody he recognized immediately: Beethoven. It wasn’t his first time attending an evening with classical music.

Samuel Thompson emerged from the crowd and greeted him enthusiastically.
"I see you’ve come in the right attire. I knew you were the right person. Let me introduce you to someone."

A burly man with a sharp gaze approached.
"This is Tomás Vargas, my bodyguard and bounty hunter."

Tomás studied James with interest.
"I heard about how you handled Blackwell at the bar," he said in a deep voice.

"My father taught me to defend myself," James replied naturally. "He also trained me in the use of firearms. I’m an excellent marksman, though I’ve never killed anyone in self-defense."

Tomás nodded approvingly.
"Perhaps I can teach you a few things. Now that you’re part of our legion, that man won’t just try to insult you—he’ll try to destroy you. But you’re not alone anymore. Here, the friends of my friends are my friends too."

At that moment, a well-dressed couple entered the hall, accompanied by a young woman with a timid demeanor. She wore an elegant long dress and a hat adorned with fine lace.

"Are you sure this is the right place to leave our daughter?" the woman whispered with concern.

"Yes, my dear," her husband replied firmly. "We have older children, but this girl is a problem. Either we find her adoptive parents to whom we pay a fortune, or we find her a husband."

"Are you insane? She’s far too young to marry."

"She’s sixteen, but she thinks far too differently. She’s not interested in marriage or the life of a proper lady. She wants to be independent, to work… she’s even spoken of learning to shoot. She’s a danger to our reputation."

While the musicians played dance melodies, James, without realizing it, fixed his gaze on the young woman. He blushed slightly, and she did too. Her father, noticing the interaction, smiled cunningly.

"Do you see that?" he whispered to his wife. "That’s the son of Charles Carter. He has money and an impeccable reputation. If we can get him interested in our daughter, we’ll have found the perfect solution."

His wife frowned.
"And if he refuses?"

The man smiled slyly.
"I have an idea…"

They approached the young man and greeted him cordially.
"My name is Charles Fitzwilliam," the man said with a polite smile. "I know you—you’re Charles Carter’s son. This is my wife, Catherine Fitzwilliam, and our daughter, Clara Fitzwilliam. We’re friends of your family."

The young man, with refined manners, regarded them with a slight smile but a reserved expression.
"A pleasure," he replied coolly. "Is there something you need?"

Charles Fitzwilliam spoke without hesitation.
"We’d like to ask you a favor. We want you to host our daughter for a couple of weeks while we resolve certain family matters. The Civil War and the changes in the country have made our situation difficult. We have five other children, and while we’ll leave her belongings and money, we want to ensure she is well looked after."

Tomás Vargas, who had been listening intently, crossed his arms with a concerned gesture and leaned toward James.
"May I speak with you in private?" he asked in a low voice.

James nodded, and before stepping aside, he told the Fitzwilliams:
"One moment, I’ll bring a drink, and then we’ll continue our conversation."

Once apart, Tomás opened a bottle and poured James a glass before speaking seriously.
"You shouldn’t accept having the girl stay at your house."

James raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Why do you say that?"

"They’re families looking to get rid of their daughters. In some places, they believe they could give them something better, but often the reasons are darker."

James took a sip of his drink and pondered for a few seconds.
"Isn’t this a wealthy family? They could give her something better themselves."

Tomás shook his head.
"It’s not about money. Perhaps the daughter is rebellious or doesn’t meet their expectations. Some prefer to ‘give her away’ rather than deal with it."

James smiled mischievously and looked at the amber liquid in his glass.
"Let’s hear their proposal. I’m interested in meeting the young lady. Perhaps I could negotiate with the family in other matters, like jewelry or watches. I’m looking to innovate in the jewelry world, and they might have something valuable."

Back with the Fitzwilliams, James settled in and looked at them with interest.
"Tell me about your daughter. If she’s going to stay with me for a few days, I need to know what she’s like."

Charles Fitzwilliam nodded, smiling.
"As you can see, she’s a bit shy, doesn’t talk much, but once you get to know her, she’s quite outgoing. A bit rebellious… she has ideas about being a gunslinger or independent. She wants nothing to do with marriage or becoming a housewife."

James chuckled lightly.
"I see nothing wrong with that. I also don’t wish to marry or have a wife. My passion is jewelry. For example, I’ve just designed a wristwatch with a mirror on one side. Many men like to fix their mustaches on the street, but how can they ask someone if they’re well-groomed or not? I also have a finer design in mind for ladies."

Catherine Fitzwilliam nodded in approval.
"That sounds perfect. She could work with you during those days. We’ll come to pick her up, as we’re all family here."

"I live in the shop," James explained. "In the back, I have my home, with a bedroom and kitchen."

At that moment, Clara, who had remained silent, looked at everyone with determination.
"I wish to go with this gentleman."

James smiled at her, amused.
"Very well, young lady. You’ll come with me. Let’s just be sure to give your parents the location of my shop so they can pick you up."

Samuel Thompson, an acquaintance of James, approached and gave him a pat on the back.
"I see you’ve made some new business connections. That’s good. Now let’s dance—they’ll be playing some fine music."

Charles Fitzwilliam took his leave with a smile.
"Don’t worry, Mr. James. We’ll do good business after this."