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...
Before electricity, people used insulated boxes lined with tin or zinc, filled with large ice blocks. He remembered something similar used in the American frontier. Ice was hauled from frozen lakes in the north and packed in sawdust to keep it from melting too fast. "If I can get sawdust, a zinc lined wooden box, and a regular ice supply..."
He splashed some water on his face and leaned back again.
He'd need to talk to the lumberyard owner. They might sell sawdust for cheap. Then he could get someone, perhaps George or Elias, to help build a basic wooden box lined with tin or zinc. He could check the general store or even travel to Saint Denis if needed for proper lining.
But the real issue would be the ice.
"I'd need to make a deal with someone to cut and hauls down the ice from the Grizzlies. Or maybe from the mountains west of Cumberland."
A longer term solution. Expensive at first, but worth it. That cooler would change everything. But for now maybe he could make it with a tray of water at the top, allowed to slowly drip down the sides.
As the water evaporated, it would draw heat from inside. Not as effective as ice, but enough to keep meat fresh an extra day. Maybe two.
Vegetables could be stored in damp cloth in the shade. Cheese wrapped in waxed paper. Even experiment with different sauces and ingredients.
And drinks...
Caleb smirked. Lemonade. Iced tea. Simple things, but unheard of here. If he could keep them cool, even marginally, they'd be a sensation.
He'd need to name the stall soon, too.
He grinned faintly to himself.
"Valentine's Bite... maybe 'The Frying Frontier'?"
Caleb chuckled under his breath. He didn't know the name just yet, but he knew it would come to him when it was right.
More immediately, tomorrow he'd double the servings. Maybe seventy five burgers, more than a hundred bowls of fries. That meant buying more meat and potatoes early tomorrow.
And Jasper would need help manning the counter if they grew too fast. Maybe he could look into one of the stablehands at Valentine's stable, who he could offer part time work at the stall. He could ask Mr. Levi for a recommendation.
Mickey and Simon had proven themselves. He'd keep them close, train them up. Maybe make Mickey the fry man permanently, teach Simon how to handle prep.
He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the tub's edge.
The hot water soothed away the noise of the town, and his thoughts slowly settled like dust after a long ride.
There was so much more he wanted to do. So many possibilities he could do. He was going to make it even better.
After that, Caleb finished his bath by ensuring that every part of his body was cleaned. He took his time, scrubbing down with the hotel soap and cloth, feeling the layers of sweat and smoke from the busy day peel away.
Once satisfied, he rose from the warm water with a sigh, steam rising from his skin. He grabbed the thick towel nearby, patting himself dry in a slow, methodical manner.
Meanwhile, the steam curled around him as he dried himself, wiping away the lingering scents of cooking oil and thyme that had clung to him all day. His muscles ached pleasantly, the good kind of exhaustion that came from hard work paying off.
Then he reached into his inventory and take out his Clairmont outfit, a more refined, dark toned attire he had stored away for cleaner evenings or when he wanted to give off a more sophisticated impression.
The clothes materialized neatly in his hands from the system interface, and he slipped into them one layer at a time, buttoning the vest and straightening the collar.
Once dressed, he folded his now damp Valentine outfit carefully and made his way out of the bathroom, the scent of soap and cedar lingering behind him.
Downstairs at the front desk, Caleb approached the hotel clerk and placed 50 cents on the desk along with his folded Valentine outfit.
"Could I have this one washed, please?" he said politely.
The hotel clerk gives faint smile and nodded. "Of course, Mr. Thorne. We'll have it ready by tomorrow morning."
Then Caleb added, "Also, the outfit I left to be washed couple of days ago, the Vaquero set. Is it ready?"
"One moment," the clerk said, taking the coins and the clothes, then ducking beneath the counter. With a brief rustle of linen and paper wrapping, he returned and laid the freshly washed and folded Vaquero outfit on the polished counter. It looked crisp and clean, the desert inspires colors vibrant once again.
"Thank you," Caleb said with a nod, accepting the bundle and holding it in his underarm.
He then headed upstairs, the floorboards creaking softly beneath his boots. Once inside his room, he sat on the edge of the bed for a brief moment. He stored the Vaquero outfit neatly into his inventory and leaned back slightly, feeling the weight of the long day settle in his shoulders.
The scent of iron, oil, and beef still lingered faintly in his senses. He was tired. Cooking for most of the day, managing the stall, talking to customers, overseeing Mickey and Simon, and making notes for future plans, it all built up. His muscles felt it now. With a yawn, he lay back on the bed, pulling a thin blanket over his legs, and let himself drift off.
The nap was short but effective. When Caleb woke, the room was bathed in golden hues from the setting sun peeking through the window. He sat up slowly and glanced out the window. The sun had begun to dip toward the horizon, casting long shadows across Valentine.
He pulled out his pocket watch and clicked it open. 04:37 PM.
Just as he noted the time, his stomach gave a demanding grumble, reminding him that the last thing he'd eaten was althe two bowl of stew in the morning.
"Alright, alright," Caleb muttered with a chuckle. He smoothed down his shirt, stretched several times, then stood and exited the room. The evening crowd had begun to trickle in around town, and Valentine's streets were picking up with the usual evening bustle.
He headed downstairs, stepped out of the hotel, and crossed the street toward the saloon. As he pushed through the batwing doors, he was greeted by the sounds of lively chatter and the rhythmic clinking of glasses.
The piano was being played in the corner, a jaunty tune filling the air, and the smell of tobacco, whiskey, sweat, and the underlying tang of spilled beer. The saloon was full, a mix of ranchers, travelers, and townsfolk unwinding after a day of labor.
Heads turned when Caleb entered. A few raised their glasses in recognition. Some tipped their hats. Others simply whispered.
His presence had become notable in Valentine, not only as the Hero who ha done many notable thing but also as the Poker King who decimated many opponents who challenged him, and made many people cry due tossing their money and also cheers by gaining money due to betting on him
He approached the bar counter and set down a generous 5 dollars and 50 cents on the polished surface.
"Lamb chops and a glass of whiskey, please."
Mr. Douglas, who heard that, looked up from pouring drinks with practiced efficiency, gave a nod and a pleased smile.
"Coming right up, Caleb," he said, already reaching for a clean glass and the bottle of whiskey. He poured it carefully, set the glass in front of Caleb, then vanished into the kitchen door to prepare the meal.
Caleb took a sip of the whiskey, burning pleasantly down his throat, smoky and strong, just the way he liked it, and leaned on the bar.
Not long after, patrons began approaching him.
"Say, Caleb, how'd you learn that trick with the Queen high bluff? You gotta teach me on how to do it."
"Hey, you think I should carry a Schofield or a Cattleman for faster draws?"
"Also you gotta teach us how to do that quick draw of yours! Saw you in that duel, faster and greased like lightning!"
The questions came rapid fire after that, poker strategies, gun tips, even requests for survival advice. Caleb answered with ease, laughing at a few of the questions and giving practical advice where it made sense.
He was honest without giving away every secret, but his charm and openness made people respect him. They listened. They liked him.
As the crowd around him thickened, Mr. Douglas returned with a plate of perfectly cooked lamb chops, steam curling off the tender meat.
He cleared his throat and gently raised his voice. "Alright, folks, let the man eat. He's earned it today."
The patrons groaned and chuckled but dispersed, giving Caleb room.
"Thanks, Mr. Douglas," Caleb said.
Mr. Douglas leaned in as he placed the plate down. "Between you and me, Caleb... congratulations. Word around town is that stall of yours sold out before noon. Hell, the saloon saw more foot traffic this morning and afternoon because of needing drinks for eating those burger and fries of yours than we have in days. Good call with the advertising deal."
Caleb smiled and lowered his voice. "Glad to hear it's working. We both benefit, like I said."
"Damn right," Mr. Douglas said, clapping his shoulder once. "Enjoy."
Caleb dug into the lamb chops with relish, savoring the seasoned meat and the warmth it brought to his still hungry belly.
Then Caleb lapsed into comfortable silence as he enjoyed his meal. Around them, the saloon's noise rose and fell, a poker game getting heated in the corner, a drunk crooning off key to the piano, and the steady hum of a dozen conversations.
For the first time in weeks, Caleb felt... settled. The stall was a success. The town was on his side. Even Cornwall's looming threat felt distant in this moment.
He signaled for one more whiskey, putting another 50 cents onto the counter, as he content to let the evening carry him where it would.
After that, Caleb left the saloon, giving a nod of thanks to Mr. Douglas, who returned it with a knowing smile. The air outside was cooler now, the sun having fully dipped behind the horizon, casting the town of Valentine in soft shadows.
Lanterns flickered to life along the main street, their amber glow dancing across wooden walls and cobblestone. The distant hiss of an oil lamp being lit echoed faintly, followed by the murmur of townsfolk settling into their nightly routines.
He stepped off the porch of the saloon and onto the dusty ground, letting out a soft sigh of contentment. The whiskey warmed his belly, and the lamb chops had hit the spot. He was looking forward to returning to his room, jotting a few ideas into his journal, and perhaps calling it an early night to rise fresh in the morning.
But something in the air shifted.
His perceptive stats kicked in, a faint tingling in the back of his neck, a tension that wasn't there before. He slowed his walk instinctively, boots crunching softly against gravel. Then, without warning, an arm wrapped around his shoulders from behind.
"Evenin', friend," a voice slithered from beside his ear, low and casual but with a dangerous undertone.
Caleb's muscles coiled. His right hand twitched, already calculating the angle he'd need to spin free if things turned sour. But for now, he played it cool.
"You're gonna wanna take a walk with me," the man continued.
Caleb offered a relaxed chuckle, as though this were just some casual conversation, but his eyes scanned his peripherals sharply. "Sure," he said, voice even. He allowed the man to guide him, though not without mental mapping of the terrain and exits.
They moved down the main street, turning between the General Store and the adjacent building, stepping into an alleyway cloaked in shadow.
The lantern light barely reached this far, casting only vague silhouettes. Waiting in the alley were two more men. One leaned against the wall with arms crossed, the other stood near a crate, chewing a toothpick and watching Caleb approach.
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 6/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 5/10
- Luck: 6/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 2)
- Rifle (Lvl 2)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 2)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 1)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 2)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 3)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 1)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 2)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 1)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 0)
- Crafting (Lv 2)
- Persuasion (Lvl 2)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 2)
- Teaching (Lvl 1)
- Germanic Language Proficiency (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 5x5x5)
Money: 711 dollars and 25 cents
Inventory: 2,295 dollars, 2 gold nuggets, 5 gold bars, 4 silver rings, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets
Bank: -