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...
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.
The man who had his arm around Caleb finally released him, stepping aside with a smug grin.
Caleb turned to face the trio, jaw loose but gaze sharp.
"Alright," he said evenly. "What is this?"
The man near the crate stepped forward. His voice was gruff, laced with disdain.
"We're from the O'Driscolls," he spat. "Heard you been winnin' big in these poker tournaments being held in the saloon. Got yourself some work at that fancy food stall, makin' noise all over town. Thought maybe you'd like to share some of that fortune."
He glanced at the others and sneered. "You give us what you got. Money. Weapons. Whatever. You don't, we'll gut you right here. Don't give a damn if you're the 'Hero of Valentine' or some shit. You bleed like the rest."
At the name 'O'Driscolls,' Caleb's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. He had expected trouble eventually, but he expected it from Cornwall's men in some ways, not the O'Driscolls who were less disciplined and more violent.
Still, he kept his hands calm at his sides, fingers slightly twitching as he activated his mental combat grid, laying out distances, angles, potential threats. He was close enough to make the first move, but he needed to know if they were carrying some guns or worse.
"Huh," he said, voice casual. "So you three are the welcoming committee. Real classy."
"Don't try and talk your way out of this," another one snapped. "You ain't special. Just lucky. And luck runs out pretty quick when it involves us the O'Driscolls boys."
"I suppose it does," Caleb said, taking a slow half step to the side, subtly turning his body so his right hand edged toward his belt. His knife was hidden beneath his vest, sheathed horizontally for quick access.
The man closest to him took a step forward. "Your Satchel. Now."
Caleb smirked faintly. "How about this? You boys turn around, walk off, and I pretend this didn't happen. Sound fair?"
That got a laugh, mocking and short lived.
"You're either brave, stupid, or both."
"I've been called worse."
Then, quick as lightning, Caleb moved.
His elbow snapped back into the gut of the man behind him. A pained oof echoed as Caleb spun, driving his knee up into the same man's groin. As the O'Driscoll doubled over, Caleb yanked his knife from its sheath and slashed outward, not to kill, but to disable.
The blade caught one of the men across the forearm, drawing a yelp. The other one cursed and went for his gun, but Caleb was already surging forward. He tackled the man, driving him into the alley wall. The revolver clattered to the ground.
A fist grazed Caleb's temple, the third O'Driscoll recovering. Caleb ducked the next swing and drove his knife hilt first into the man's ribs. Cartilage cracked. The man wheezed, stumbling back.
Redbeard roared, grabbing Caleb by the throat. Caleb gagged, but his free hand found the man's belt, and the skinning knife tucked there. He wrenched it free and buried it in the first man's thigh.
"Gah! You bastard—"
Caleb twisted the blade just enough to make it hurt causing the man to scream in pain, then yanked it out. The first man collapsed against the wall, clutching his leg.
The other two were still groaning on the ground. Caleb kicked the dropped revolver into the shadows, wiped his knife clean on one of their shirt before he then stabbed it in both of the two O'Driscolls legs.
The two O'Driscolls howled in pain as Caleb's knife found their thighs, their voices blending into a chorus of curses and pleas. Blood seeped through their trousers, darkening the fabric as they clutched at their wounds.
"Mercy! Please!"
"Please! We get it... we get it! Don't kill us! We were just doin' what we were told!"
Caleb ignored their pleas. He crouched down and wiped the blood from his knife with one of their shirts once again and he tossed the knife aside with a clatter. Then, with complete disregard, he shoved the man aside and rose to his feet.
He drew his Navy revolver from its main holster with a slick, practiced motion and pointed it down at the three O'Driscolls now sprawled on the alley floor.
"Get on your feet," Caleb ordered coldly. "You're gonna follow me to the Sheriff's office. You're getting locked up."
One of the O'Driscolls, perhaps desperate or stupid, tried to leap to his feet and run. But the fresh wound in his leg screamed at him. His attempt turned into a pathetic stumble as he fell flat onto his face with a loud thud.
Caleb chuckled darkly, his voice low and wicked. "You can't leave, not anymore. So you better follow me, even if you're crawling. If you don't—"
He thumbed the hammer of his revolver back.
"—I'll I'll put a bullet in your other leg."
The threat hung in the air like gun smoke and the three O'Driscolls looked at one another, terror plain in their eyes. Groaning, they scrambled, shaking and wincing, using the walls and each other to slowly rise.
One clung to the crate, another clutched the side of the building. Their legs shook with every step, blood flowed around and trailing behind them, and their earlier bravado was replaced by the grim resignation of their fate.
Caleb said nothing more, just kept his revolver raised, tracking every slight motion. He let the silence and weight of his threat settle in the air.
As the wounded thugs limped toward the mouth of the alley, Caleb followed behind them with calm menace that made the three O'Driscolls have cold sweat at their backs. His steps were steady, his presence unmistakable.
He spared a glance upward, where the stars had just begun to dot the night sky, a quiet canvas to contrast the violence that had just taken place.
Trouble had come earlier than he'd hoped. But it also confirmed something vital, his actions were making waves. Big enough waves to draw out the O'Driscolls. That meant his poker winnings were known, his food stall but wasn't known as his which was good news that was talked about, and that he had become a player in the eyes of the wolves that smell money like smelling blood.
He'd need to be smarter now in his next moves. More faster. Maybe it was time to hire someone with some muscle to keep an eye on the stall when he was not around. And also maybe keep a closer eye on the town, especially the gossips that spread around.
He'd think about that tomorrow as it was a problem for his self the next day.
For now, he had a delivery to make. A delivery of three rats to the sheriff.
The three limped forward, groaning with each step. One muttered curses under his breath. Another gritted his teeth and bit back tears. They made a pathetic trio.
The streets of Valentine were quiet at this hour, but not empty. A few stragglers lingered on the saloon porch, nursing drinks and swapping stories. Their chatter died as Caleb emerged from the alley, herding his bloodied captives at gunpoint.
Eyes widened. Glasses paused mid sip.
One of the ranchers, a grizzled old timer named Harker, let out a low whistle. "Well, looks like some people messed with the wrong person."
More eyes peeked out from the saloon who came out to the porch.
The O'Driscolls kept their heads down, their pride as shattered as their legs. Caleb ignored the onlookers, his focus unwavering.
"Keep moving," he growled, nudging the slowest one with the barrel of his revolver.
No one dared to interfere. Caleb was known, not just as a hero of Valentine or a poker player, but as someone dangerous when crossed.
With his revolver aimed at their backs, the three O'Driscolls limped through the center of town, bleeding, groaning, and humiliated.
The procession moved at a crawl, the O'Driscolls hobbling like wounded animals. Every step sent fresh waves of pain through them, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Caleb didn't rush them. Let them suffer. Let the town see what happened to those who crossed him.
Eventually, they reached the Sheriff's office. One of them reached out with a trembling hand and pushed the door open.
Inside, Sheriff Malloy and one of his deputies were seated at a desk, talking between drags of their cigarettes. The scent of tobacco hung heavy in the air.
The sound of the door creaking open caught their attention and they both looked up.
Their jaws dropped at the sight.
Three bloodied men with torn trousers, limping and wheezing, entered first.
And behind them came Caleb Thorne, revolver raised, cool as ever.
Sheriff Malloy stood quickly. "What in the hell—?"
Caleb tilted his head slightly.
"These three tried to rob me, Sheriff. Dragged me into an alley between the general store and the building next to it to get me out of sight. Said they were from the O'Driscolls gang. Wanted my satchel, my poker winnings, and made threats. I gave them something else." as he said so, he gestured to their thighs.
The deputy blinked, then reached for his belt. "Jesus, Caleb..."
"Hey at least they're alive," Caleb said. "Barely."
Sheriff Malloy walked around the desk, jaw tight. He looked the three men over, noting more than the stab wounds in their thighs, which were the bruises and the broken pride.
"Now you knew you messed with the wrong person," he muttered. "You boys thought you could come into my town and rob one of our own?"
"Remember that Valen—" one of the O'Driscolls began, but Sheriff Malloy cut him off before he could speak further.
"Shut your damn mouth criminal. Higgins, lock 'em up."
The deputy opened the holding cell and gestured. "In. Now."
With groans and curses, the three O'Driscolls hobbled toward the cell. The sheriff looked at Caleb.
"We'll hold 'em. Get the doc to look them over, too. I'll wire to the Marshals in case they've got bounties. You alright?"
Caleb finally holstered his revolver.
"Fine. But I'd appreciate it if word got around real fast that I don't take kindly to back alley shakedowns."
Sheriff Malloy gave a curt nod. "Consider it done, Caleb. You know full well that the people of Valentine talk. Especially after this."
Caleb gave one final glance to the O'Driscolls, now slumped behind iron bars with their wounded thighs.
Then Sheriff Malloy speak some more. "By the way, you're stirrin' up quite the attention, Caleb. First Cornwall, now the O'Driscolls. Valentine ain't big enough for all this."
"I never ask for trouble Sheriff, you know that." Caleb said evenly. "But I won't run from it either."
The sheriff take a puff of his smoke. "Just be careful. I have head of this O'Driscolls, especially their boss Colm, he don't take kindly to his boys gettin' embarrassed."
Caleb smirked. "Neither do I."
After that he tipped his hat to the sheriff and the deputy, before then turning and walking back into the night, stars still gleaming above.
The walk back to the hotel was quiet, the town settling into its evening rhythm. But Caleb's mind raced. The O'Driscolls wouldn't let this slide. They'd come back, maybe not for him directly, but for his business, his people.
He needed a deterrent. Hire security as he had thought before. Making the thought solidified even further as he climbed the hotel stairs. Then he entered into his room, Caleb sat on the edge of his bed, rolling the idea around.
It was a risk, hiring guns always was, but better to have one on his side than against him. For now, he stripped off his blood spattered shirt and collapsed onto the mattress, the events of the day finally catching up to him. The last thing he saw before sleep took him was the ceiling, the shadows dancing on the ceiling.
...
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: -