HLM – Chapter 139 The Cowboy Crew

When it came to professional tax avoidance, there were accounting firms for that. The Big Four all had branches in New Zealand. But Wang Bo didn’t need to turn to them—Hani himself was an excellent accountant, and he was more than capable of handling tax matters.

Ever since he arrived in Sunset Town, Hani had dutifully holed himself up in the small building he treated as the town hall. When Wang Bo reached the door, he looked up and saw a sign hanging from the second-floor balcony:

“Sunset Town Government Service Hall!”

Wang Bo scratched his head and said to Charlie, “Old Charlie, now that our leadership team is fully assembled, it’s time to treat things a bit more seriously. Tell Bowen to make a proper sign and hang it up. This one’s way too informal.”

Charlie snorted, “You actually trust that guy?”

Wang Bo hesitated for a moment, then sighed, “Let’s give him another chance. We don’t do that ‘one strike and you’re out’ stuff in our organization—if he screws up again, then we take him out!”

“That really sounded like a bureaucrat talking.”

“You mean I have the makings of a high-ranking official? Thanks for the compliment!”

Seeing Wang Bo at his door, Hani took off his glasses and said, “Perfect timing, Mayor. I needed to talk to you. Are you sure the salary you gave me is correct?”

New Zealand had a weekly pay system—employees were supposed to be paid once a week. But since Sunset Town had so few employees, Wang Bo couldn’t be bothered with the hassle and just paid them once a month.

Hani had arrived in the town in April, and this was his first paycheck.

Wang Bo replied, “It should be correct. Eleven thousand, right? I calculated it based on your position, years of service, and qualifications.”

Hani gasped, “Shit, not a single mistake! Eleven thousand! But I’m just a small-town tax auditor—how the hell am I getting paid this much?!”

Wang Bo waved his hand and laughed. “You earned it. Eleven thousand is perfectly reasonable. You’re worth that much. I have to respect talent, right?”

Hani froze for a second and weakly muttered, “Boss… do you realize this salary is theoretically the maximum I could earn?”

Of course Wang Bo knew. In fact, that was exactly his intention—to pay Hani the maximum salary allowed by law. Not just Hani, either. He, Juan, and Bowen were all getting the highest salaries legally permitted.

The government gave the town a quarterly grant of 500,000 NZD. Wang Bo only used this money to pay salaries, not for town development. Even if he paid everyone the maximum legal wage, there was still surplus each month.

New Zealand differed from some other countries in this regard. Public servants there, like regular company employees, were hired through open recruitment, and their salaries were paid by regional governments.

So sometimes in the news, you’d see cases where New Zealand regional governments couldn’t pay civil servants—because their budgets were in the red.

The New Zealand parliament had set a trap for Wang Bo from the beginning, giving him just a 500,000 quarterly development fund—far from enough for the town’s needs. They expected him to repeatedly apply for town-building funds, so they could eventually take over Sunset Town.

But things didn’t go as they planned. Instead of begging for funds, Wang Bo poured in his own money, turning the tables on them.

None of this needed to be explained to Hani. What Wang Bo had already said was enough to reassure him.

Now Hani looked at Wang Bo with a little more warmth. Back when he worked in Wanderer’s Town, he barely earned 3,000 NZD—basically the lowest salary possible. But here in Sunset Town, his compensation skyrocketed—over 10,000 a month!

Even in a big city, that kind of salary would be considered golden-tier.

For talented professionals, no amount of promises or praise could compare to cold hard cash. A high salary meant one thing: your boss and organization truly valued you.

That “you’re a vital part of the team” talk while paying peanuts? That’s just bait for gullible rookies. Hani, an old hand in the industry, knew this well.

So, when Wang Bo asked Hani to find a way to legally reduce the taxes on the auction proceeds, Hani was naturally willing to go all out. He slapped the table and promised to handle it and minimize taxes as much as legally possible.

This didn’t conflict with his duties as a tax auditor either. A tax auditor’s job was to crack down on evasion, not legal avoidance. In fact, helping local residents with legal tax planning was part of his job too.

After six days at sea, Bowen’s fellow Texans finally arrived.

Six strapping men dragged suitcases into town, all dressed identically: rough felt hats, thick denim jackets, tall cowboy boots, sharp spurs—imposing and full of swagger.

Bowen had already introduced them to Wang Bo beforehand. These six were from his hometown, slightly younger than him. They were his childhood buddies—he knew them inside out and could vouch for their loyalty.

But when they actually met, Wang Bo was baffled: Younger than Bowen? They didn’t look it. Each had a full beard, weathered faces, and deep forehead wrinkles. They could easily pass for forty.

How old was Bowen again? Just thirty—a little older than Wang Bo!

The reason for this was the Texan climate and the tough cowboy lifestyle. Texas was dry and dusty, and cowboy work meant constant exposure to the elements. They didn’t bother much with grooming, so looking older than their age was normal.

Bowen introduced them one by one. Among the six, three were blood brothers: Edmond Beebe, Marlon Beebe, and Sean Beebe. The other three were cousins: Cousins Lincoln, Andre Edison, and Ian Bowen.

The Beebe brothers were tall and looked alike—around 1.9 meters, deep-set eyes, thick brows, big eyes—the classic Hollywood Western tough-guy cowboy look.

Lincoln was the tallest, at least 1.95 meters. His nickname was “Big Mouth,” because he literally had a huge mouth. Bowen joked that he could swallow a whole turkey leg during Christmas.

Edison and Ian were about the same height as Wang Bo but built like tanks—broad shoulders, barrel chests. Their faces looked fierce, too. If the Beebe brothers were movie-hero cowboys, these two looked more like outlaw villains.

After receiving the six men, Wang Bo arranged temporary housing for them in town. Charlie helped them settle in, and once the cowboy dorms on the ranch were ready, they’d move in.

In the following days, they wouldn’t be starting work right away. They had to apply for New Zealand social security numbers, get driver’s licenses, and buy daily necessities—all of which Charlie would handle, while Wang Bo just paid the bills.

With over a hundred million NZD in the account, Wang Bo’s backbone was as stiff as a flagpole. He wasn’t afraid to spend money and didn’t hesitate to spend it either. After all, he still had a chest full of gold and another of silver in the vault, which could be cashed in anytime.

Now that the cowboys had arrived, Wang Bo planned to buy vehicles. You needed the right tools for the job. Running a ranch required pickup trucks, trailers, towing vehicles, and ATVs.