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Caleb looked at her, her soft expression framed by the sunlight filtering through the trees. And for the first time that morning, he felt everything would be fine and would go according to his way, so he let out a smile. "Yeah," he said. "It is."
So with that, both he and Mary-Beth enjoyed their breakfast together, seated close beside the fire. While they ate, they flirted lightly with each other, their voices low and teasing. Caleb complimented her writing, and Mary-Beth rolled her eyes with a smile, nudging him again under the table.
He made jokes about some of her short stories being so dramatic that she should write about the gang instead of penny romance, to which she laughed and said, "Maybe I will if you keep giving me material." Despite the casual air, her cheeks were pink the entire time, glancing around nervously now and then.
Even though nobody at camp paid them much mind, Pearson grumbling as he stirred a second pot, Uncle already nursing a bottle of morning bourbon, and Dutch nowhere in sight, Mary-Beth still flushed whenever Caleb leaned in too close or brushed her hand.
She was shy by nature, and openly flirting in camp, even subtly, was new territory. But Caleb's confidence and warmth seemed to make her feel safe enough to let it happen.
After they'd finished their breakfast, Miss Grimshaw's voice cut through the air. "Mary-Beth! Those clothes aren't going to get washed by themselves!"
Mary-Beth stood, brushing off her skirt and giving Caleb a parting smile. "Back to the usual activities in camp."
Caleb nodded. "Don't work too hard now."
She chuckled. "You know how Miss Grimshaw is."
As she walked off, Caleb stood and stretched before heading toward Morgan, who was tied to a hitching post nearby. But just as he was about to pat Morgan and give her a treat, he heard his name being called.
"Hey, Caleb!" Arthur's voice rang out.
He turned and saw Arthur standing near a tree at the edge of camp, signaling for him to come toward him while he was speaking with Uncle. He saw Bill and Charles were walking up as well. Caleb's brow furrowed slightly in surprise. Arthur rarely called him over unless it was something important or he wanted to tease him.
Then he saw it, the way Uncle leaned in, gesturing animatedly. Arthur's posture. The others' attention. Caleb felt a jolt of realization.
An Honest Mistake.
He hadn't expected this. In the original timeline, it was this mission that led to Cornwall's wrath, when the gang unknowingly hit a Kerosene and Tar wagon loaded with hidden guards.
It was supposed to be unguarded, just a lucky score. But in his opinion, it was a trap, one that was done by Cornwall so he could get right back onto the Van der Linde gang, after the gang escaped to Clements Point from Horseshoe Overlook.
He thought he'd changed that. He was the one who spoke with Molly after all, which interfered with the timeline, before she could confide in Arthur. And it was that moment she'd been cut off by Uncle, who came with the tip. Caleb had thought that change would prevent the mission.
Apparently not.
Now it was happening anyway.
He needed to stop it.
He quickly walked over to the group. Bill was already asking, "Why'd you call us out, Arthur?"
But it was Uncle who answered, puffing up proudly. "Arthur's here are above a little stick up I heard about."
"Why I ain't above it," Arthur replied almost instantly.
"Not what you said before," Uncle muttered, waving his hand.
"I said I'll do it—" Arthur tapped his cigarette against a nearby branch, "—as long as you come along too."
Charles smirked. "That's fair."
"Yeah, you gotta pull your weight once in a while," Bill added with a grin.
Uncle raised both hands in mock surrender. "Now hold on there, boys. You know I got a serious medical condition."
Arthur laughed ghastly, lighting a cigarette. "Yeah, it's called compulsive lying."
Caleb couldn't help but let out a laugh too, while Bill and Charles chuckled.
Uncle pointed at Arthur indignantly. "Ain't no need for that. Charles, have I ever lied to you?"
Charles raised an eyebrow. "I barely know you."
"Exactly," Uncle said with a wink, then turned to Caleb. "What about you, Caleb? Have I ever lied to you?"
Caleb crossed his arms and gave him a bemused look. "No, but you've 'borrowed' money from me more than a few times saying it's for food. Next thing I know, you're drunk and singing near the fire."
Uncle chuckled awkwardly. "Now, now, no need to bring up the drinkin'. That's just me bein' me."
He waved the topic off and returned to his pitch. "Look, gentlemen. This is an easy one. Real easy. Just a quick hit on a supply wagon. Very light guard, practically none. I'll just take a small commission for the tip I provide to you all. But it's now or never."
Arthur was about to speak, but Caleb stepped in first.
"Hold on," Caleb said firmly. "Before we ride off, I want to know more about this. What kind of stick up is this exactly?"
Uncle blinked, surprised by the interruption, but then nodded. "Simple. A supply wagon carrying payroll. It passes through a crossroad near that old ruined church a few miles from us. Just before it joins the main convoy. We catch it there, and all of it's ours."
Arthur exhaled a puff of smoke, nodding slowly. "Could be a good prospect… if it's like what you said."
But Caleb shook his head.
"I don't think it is as good as you said."
The mood shifted. Charles looked at him. Bill frowned. Arthur raised an eyebrow.
Uncle scoffed. "What do you mean it's not, Caleb? This is from a reliable source I tell you!"
Caleb met their eyes. Time to spin a believable lie.
"When I was gone investigating and stayin' in Valentine," Caleb began, "the sheriff told me something odd. Said he overheard some of Cornwall's men bragging. Apparently, Cornwall's setting some bait, unguarded looking wagons, payroll or supplies, deliberately sent down roads known for outlaw traffic. But the moment anyone tries to rob it…"
He paused for effect.
"…they get jumped. Dozens of hired guns. They're not guarding the wagon, they're waiting nearby. Waiting to catch whoever takes the bait."
Arthur's eyes narrowed, cigarette forgotten between his fingers. "You sure about this? And you trust what the sheriff said?"
"I trust what I heard. The sheriff's no friend of Cornwall, he believes me, and he told me this in confidence. Said there have been whisperings that Cornwall wants revenge after he was humiliated in Valentine by me while looking for us. Wants to flush us out."
Uncle looked rattled but tried to recover. "That… that doesn't sound right. The guy who told me wouldn't sell me out."
"Maybe he didn't know," Caleb replied. "Maybe he was sold bad info too. Or maybe he's been paid off to do such a thing."
Charles crossed his arms. "It does sound like something Cornwall would do. Lay bait and then strike."
Bill glanced at Arthur. "You think it's worth it?"
Arthur didn't answer right away. He looked at Caleb, then at Uncle. He took one last puff of his cigarette and dropped it, crushing it with his boot.
"…No. Not worth it."
Uncle threw his hands up in indignation. "You're all just paranoid! It's an easy score, dammit!"
Arthur shook his head. "No such thing as an easy score these days. Not when Cornwall's involved. You know what happened in Valentine, if it weren't for Caleb, a big shootout would have happened in Valentine."
Uncle muttered something and stormed off toward the campfire, grumbling under his breath. Charles chuckled dryly. Bill shrugged.
Caleb exhaled slowly, hiding the relief on his face.
He'd stopped it.
For now, they were safe from Cornwall's retribution. One thread of disaster snipped clean.
But he knew more were coming. One that he knew of and didn't know of.
Arthur turned toward Caleb. "That was a good catch, Caleb. Thanks."
Caleb gave a small nod. "Just trying to keep us breathing."
Arthur offered him a faint smile. "Well, keep doing that. We need it."
Charles added, "Not bad, Caleb. Not bad at all."
Caleb simply nodded again, watching as they dispersed.
He heaved a sigh of relief that he managed to stop the mission from happening. It had been a gamble, his own assumption, really, based on memories from the game in his past life. But it made too much sense to ignore.
There was no way Cornwall, a man obsessed with control and revenge, would allow a supply wagon carrying payroll to travel unguarded through Lemoyne. If it were some other company, some local bank, or minor shipment, maybe.
But not Cornwall. He was the kind of man who would rather burn his own money than let others steal it, especially outlaws like the Van der Linde gang.
Cornwall had made it clear in the game, money wasn't all he cared about. Reputation and dignity were his real currency. In his eyes, being humiliated in Valentine, outsmarted and outgunned by a gang of criminals, had cost him far more than any amount of money.
And that wasn't something he would let go unpunished. Caleb remembered it well, from his own memories and from the moment he watched it unfold in game.
Cornwall would sacrifice anything to get even. He wouldn't put payroll wagons on the road without guards. He'd set a trap, lure the gang out, and strike with overwhelming force. Just like this mission in the original timeline.
As he thought about all of this, his eyes drifted back toward the main campfire. There was Uncle, slouched in a stool near the crate of beer bottles, still muttering under his breath and swaying slightly.
Even from a distance, Caleb could see the old man's frustration. He probably wasn't angry about the decision being made out of caution, he was more annoyed at the fact that he wouldn't be seeing any easy money from it.
Despite his grumbling, Caleb couldn't really hold it against him. Uncle was, in his own way, a good guy. Sarcastic, sure, lazy more often than not, and usually the first to crack a joke when no one wanted to hear it, but his heart wasn't bad.
And Caleb, like any player of the game, remembered full well how Uncle helped build John's homestead. For all his bluster, the man showed up when it counted, and of course how sarcastic he could be, which could kill someone's soul.
So, on a whim, Caleb walked toward him, grabbing two bottles of beer from the crate as he passed. Uncle looked up, his eyes narrowing with curiosity, but he didn't say anything as Caleb sat down next to him and handed him one of the bottles.
Uncle took it with a grunt, popped the cap, and took a long, exaggerated gulp. Then he let out a loud sigh. "Well, I guess that's that."
Caleb chuckled lightly. "Wanted to say sorry. For shootin' your idea down."
Uncle glanced sideways at him. "Yeah, well. You didn't just shoot it, you took it out back and put it down like Old Yeller."
Caleb winced at that but smiled. "Had to be done. I get why you're upset. You had a good lead, at least, it looked like one. But if there's even a chance it was a trap…"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Uncle waved him off, then took another swig. "I get it. You, Arthur… hell, even Charles. Don't count Bill, he is just a buffoon. Y'all are thinkin' about the gang, about safety, about not dyin' in a blaze of bullets and fire. And here I am… just wantin' a few extra dollars to buy some more bottles of booze."
...
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 2)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 2)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 3)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 2)
- 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)
- Acting (Lvl 1)
Money: 522 dollars and 0 cents
Inventory: 3,245 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: -