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...
Caleb didn't press. Instead, he stood beside him in silence, both of them watching the calm water reflect the stars. And somewhere in the distance, Caleb knew that a new future waited, full of unknown danger, unknown choices, and opportunities to keep bending the world toward a different ending.
As he thought so, he glanced at Arthur and said, "If you ever need someone to share your mind with, or just need to relieve the burden inside your heart, you can come to me. I'm willing to be the one you talk to... or just listen to you complain."
Arthur glanced at him with a quiet smile, then chuckled and patted Caleb on the shoulder. "You don't need to worry about me like that. I got my journal. Helps keep my mind off things. Been working so far."
This time it was Caleb's turn to chuckle. "You know, I'm starting to think like Sadie now. I'm real curious about what's in that little journal of yours."
Arthur groaned. "Don't you start too. That woman keeps threatening to peek into it every chance she gets. It's a private matter, Caleb."
"Relax," Caleb said, grinning. "I'm just joking. No need to take it so seriously. As for Sadie... well, I think we both know she ain't joking when she says that."
Arthur could only chuckle half-heartedly at that because they both knew the truth, if Sadie ever got the chance, she'd tear through that journal from cover to cover, no hesitation at all from her part.
After sharing that lighthearted but also meaningful brotherhood moment between the two of them, they made their way back to the main campfire. By now, Uncle, Hosea, Pearson, and John were sitting around the fire, enjoying drinks and sharing stories from the old days.
As Caleb and Arthur approached, Uncle squinted through the flickering firelight. "Well everyone, look who it is. If it ain't the pair of the two most sarcastic people in our group."
Caleb laughed, settling down beside Uncle to his right while Arthur took a seat next to Hosea.
"I'd be honored to be called one of the sarcastic people in our group alongside Arthur," Caleb replied, as he took a bottle of beer from the crate nearby. "Better than being known as the lazy freeloader who drinks all day and contributes nothin' to the camp."
That remark earned a hearty round of laughter from the group. While it dripped with sarcasm, everyone knew Caleb was right, Uncle did little more than lounge around and get drunk, either asleep in his bedroll or anywhere really, while snoring loudly that everyone could hear it around camp.
Uncle laughed along with them but clutched his chest dramatically. "Have mercy, boy! You're hurtin' this poor old man's heart. I don't just laze around camp, y'know. I provide valuable information. Tips on where we can rob, score big. I get a small commission, sure, but it's the thought that counts."
Hosea, always quick with a grin, chimed in, "You're lucky we even let you stay around, you old coot. You're a mascot more than a member at this point."
"Aw hell, not you too, Hosea!" Uncle groaned. "A man can't get a lick of sympathy around here no more. All of ya ganging up on poor ol' Uncle who got lumbago."
Everyone laughed again when they heard what Uncle said, and just then, a familiar voice cut through the warmth and laughter.
"How are you all gentlemen doing on this fine evening?"
The sound made everyone glance up. Dutch stood just outside the ring of firelight, hands behind his back, a familiar gleam in his eye. He slowly stepped into the circle, positioning himself dead center to make sure all attention fell on him.
Caleb was mildly surprised at how Dutch so effortlessly inserted himself into the conversation. Then again, maybe surprised wasn't the right word. He should've expected it, Dutch was always one to make himself the centerpiece of any moment after all.
Everyone returned his greeting, with Uncle's voice the loudest. "Fine and dandy, Dutch!"
Dutch smiled broadly. "Good, that's real good, folks. I just read something interesting—"
Before he could finish, Uncle cut in with a grin. "That's the problem with you, Dutch. Always reading. That's always been your issue."
Dutch turned sharply toward Uncle, still smiling but his tone dropping lower and fixing Uncle with a look that could curdle milk. "Not with you, Uncle."
Caleb, who had just taken a sip of his beer, nearly spat it out. This scene. He remembered it from the game, where he plays as Arthur walking around camp and encounters this scene, watching this same exchange play out at Horseshoe Overlook. But here it was, happening at Clemens Point instead, another ripple in the timeline caused by his presence.
Then he turned back to the group, ready to continue his thought, only for Uncle to blissfully interrupt again, like he was unaware of Dutch's irritation, or maybe he was but he didn't care. "I got common sense, Dutch. I don't need to read. In fact, I don't read because it pollutes the mind."
Dutch raised a brow, his voice even gruffer this time. "Does it now?"
Uncle nodded solemnly, then broke into a chuckle. "I've seen what it's done to you, Dutch. Twisted you up good."
The whole fire ring now turned into silence as they looked on at the interaction between the two of them, though Dutch forced a tight smile.
Dutch then walked toward Uncle, forcing a small chuckle through clenched teeth before calling, "Old man," in that dangerously calm voice of his.
He clapped Uncle twice on the shoulder, firm and almost too familiar. "If I were you," he continued, tone low and biting, "I'd be careful with that. This court jester act you're puttin' on... it wears a little thin."
He gave one final pat to Uncle's shoulder, lingering just long enough to make a point, then turned and began to walk away from the firelight.
Uncle, never one to leave things alone, leaned forward toward the fire, speaking in a voice that wasn't nearly as quiet as he thought. "That's Dutch's problem, right there," he said, using a crooked finger to gesture behind him. "He wants to be some kind of American King... and all of us here are his knights in shining armor." He spread his arms to the rest of the gang, who all went still, watching him.
Caleb turned slightly, eyes narrowing as he saw Dutch halt in his stride. The man's shoulders tensed. He had heard it.
Dutch turned back slowly. "I heard that."
"Good," Uncle replied, undaunted. "You need to. Because it's true."
Dutch's boots crunched softly as he turned to face them all again. "I don't want to be a king," he said, voice cool.
Uncle scoffed. "You do want it."
Dutch's hands clenched. "I don't. I just want something better than this, something better for all of us."
Uncle snorted. "Somethin' better? You're kinda better, Dutch?"
For a moment, no one breathed. Then—
Dutch let out a low, rasping humorless laugh. "Hohoho..." He walked back toward the fire and stopped right beside Uncle. The smile was still on his face, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"I can't stay mad at you, old man," he said, voice almost fond.
Uncle shrugged, unfazed. "Didn't ask you to."
"But right now," Dutch continued, letting the pause hang heavy in the air, ".I would like to kill you."
The words landed like a gunshot. Everyone froze.
Hosea and Arthur exchanged a look, both of them recognizing the flicker of instability in Dutch's voice. They stepped forward instinctively, ready to intercept if this escalated further.
Before either could say anything, Uncle let out a mockingly reverent breath, raising his hands as though worshipping. "Oh, put me out of my misery, your majesty!" He even bowed theatrically, chuckling as he did.
Caleb expected Dutch to laugh it off, like in the game. But something in the air was wrong.
Dutch's face changed, his jaw tightened, his brows furrowed, and his eyes became cold. Then, with shocking speed, he drove a fist into Uncle's jaw.
CRACK.
The old man reeled backward with a grunt, nearly falling over.
"Dutch!" Hosea and Arthur lunged forward, grabbing his arms and trying to hold him back. "Enough!" Hosea barked. "He's just drunk, Dutch!"
John and Pearson moved to block the space between Dutch and Uncle, making sure it didn't go further.
Caleb rushed to Uncle, who was sitting on the ground, clutching his face.
"You alright?" Caleb asked, crouching beside him.
Uncle spat, blood mixed with saliva. "I'm alright, son." He wheezed, waving Caleb off. "Hell, I've taken worse punches from whores in Valentine."
Caleb shook his head and helped Uncle up, carefully steadying him.
Dutch, still breathing heavily as Hosea and Arthur restrained him, seemed to come back to his senses. His eyes darted between the group and the old man he had just struck.
"I... I'm sorry," he muttered. "I... I don't know what came over me, folks." He muttered, running a hand through his hair as he turned his head slightly to address Uncle. "Old man... I apologize. You caught me at a bad moment."
Uncle rubbed his sore jaw and gave a dry, wheezy laugh. "Ain't no problem, Dutch. I understand. Got lumbago and all."
The scuffle had drawn attention. Other members of the gang emerged from their tents or the shadows, concerned by the noise and tension.
Hosea exchanged a quick look with Arthur. "Come on, Dutch," he said, guiding the gang leader gently. "Let's have a talk in your tent."
Arthur nodded, helping lead Dutch away from the fire and the crowd. Dutch didn't resist.
As they disappeared into the darkness, Uncle sighed and sat back down beside the fire.
"You see, gentlemen?" he said, eyes glinting beneath the firelight. "There goes the greatest man we know... and even he's lost. Don't know where he's goin', lost inside his own damn mind."
John sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. "Alright, Uncle. Go have Miss Grimshaw or Reverend Swanson check you out. You're lucky your jaw's still attached."
Uncle grumbled, holding his sore cheek. "Alright, alright, John. Don't get your drawers twisted." He shuffled off into the shadows.
John turned to Caleb and Pearson, still standing quietly by the fire. "Let's just let tonight fade out, alright? Dutch's just got a lot on his mind. Uncle's nonsense just gets to the better of him tonight."
Pearson shook his head. "Yeah... but this? This is different, John. He really hit him. No joke. You think Dutch's okay?"
John hesitated. "I don't know. I want to say yes. But lately? I don't think any of us really know what's going on in Dutch's head."
Caleb didn't speak right away. He stared into the fire, watching the way the flames danced in unpredictable patterns.
Dutch had snapped. Not in some symbolic, future tense kind of way. He had snapped tonight, in front of everyone.
This wasn't just paranoia whispering to him now. This was Dutch showing cracks. Letting them slip. If he could just keep letting those around him see it, see who he was becoming, it might make it easier for Caleb to convince them to leave when the time came.
The future was unraveling faster than Caleb had expected. But maybe, just maybe... that was the opening he needed. He took a sip of his beer, eyes still on the fire. Meanwhile, Pearson walks away while shaking his head, and John takes a seat beside Caleb and then sips his beer.
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 7/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 6/10
- Luck: 6/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 3)
- Rifle (Lvl 2)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 3)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 2)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 3)
- 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 2)
Money: 935 dollars and 48 cents
Inventory: 3,245 dollars, 7 gold nuggets, 5 gold bars, 4 silver rings, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 large bags of jewelry, a gold ring, two silver rings, four silver pocket watches, a gold buckle, and a gold pocket compass
Bank: -