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The job where Arthur would meet a post office clerk in Rhodes, who would provide details on stagecoaches worth robbing. Simple on the surface, but potentially very lucrative, and more importantly, it could put Caleb in the right place to influence events further. It was time to pay Arthur a visit.
Thinking so, Caleb finished his stew in silence. He let the warmth settle into his bones, savoring the last few spoonfuls before rising from his seat. The early morning air had begun to cool, and the sky overhead was painted in soft blue, signaling the sun in its full appearance.
He walked to Pearson's wagon, where he deposited the empty wooden bowl into the washing basin, nodding a brief thanks to the cook who was busy preparing for their lunch or whatever it is.
With purposeful steps, Caleb made his way across the camp, boots crunching lightly on the dirt path, eyes scanning for Arthur. He found him exactly where he expected, inside his tent, perched on the edge of his bed, hunched over his journal.
Arthur's brows were furrowed in quiet concentration, pencil in hand, scribbling something down with practiced ease. Now and then he'd pause, erasing or shading in the paper, eyes narrowing as he tried to match the image in his head.
It was then that Caleb realized what Arthur was sketching, a rough portrait of Josiah Trelawny. Though far from a perfect likeness, the sharp mustache, wavy hair, and flamboyant coat were unmistakable. Arthur smirked as he shaded in the lapel, amused with himself.
Then he heard it.
"Arthur."
He looked up, startled from his focus, and saw Caleb standing just outside of his tent. Arthur immediately closed his journal with a single fluid motion, slipping the pencil into the spine before giving Caleb a casual nod.
"Well, look who's come sneakin' up," Arthur said, smirking. "What's up?"
Caleb stepped inside and stood a few feet from him. "I just had a chat with Trelawny. Said he shared a rather intriguing opportunity with you. Told me to come your way if I wanted to know more."
Arthur raised a brow. "So he told you that, huh?" He leaned back slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "Didn't expect him to go blabbin' about it. But I guess if he already told you, might as well talk about it. Better you than Sean findin' out."
Caleb chuckled. "Sean catching strays and he's not even here."
"Serves him right. Man can't aim straight with a gun, but sure knows how to find trouble like a magnet," Arthur said dryly.
They shared a quick laugh before Caleb tilted his head. "Still, what exactly did Trelawny tell you?"
Arthur nodded and began recounting the information. "He said he'd introduce me to a new 'best friend' in Rhodes. Someone who knows a thing or two about stagecoaches worth robbing. Post office clerk, apparently. Seemed confident it'd be a good little side hustle. Not flashy, but reliable."
Caleb nodded slowly. He already knew this, of course. His lips curled into a grin. "We do require a whole lot of those."
"You're damn right we do."
The two fell into easy camaraderie, the kind born from shared danger and unspoken trust. Then Caleb shifted, tone thoughtful. "If we're gonna be robbing these stagecoaches, I say we do it anonymously. No names, no connections. And maybe… let Trelawny be the one to get us the info. Who knows who these people really are? Can't risk letting them know too much about us."
Arthur scratched at his jaw. "I get where you're coming from. And usually I'd agree. But the folks Trelawny brings in? They've always been solid. Never sold us out, not once. If that changes, we handle it. But till then… might as well give it the benefit of the doubt."
Caleb nodded slowly. He knew Arthur had a point. Most of Trelawny's contacts in the past hadn't betrayed the gang. Still, Caleb preferred to plant the seeds of caution early. He was thinking several moves ahead.
For now, he could live with Arthur's answer. And besides, Caleb knew from memory that this particular post office clerk could be trusted..
"Fair enough," he said. "Still, better to be the spider than the fly in this game."
Arthur gave a half smile. "Guess you ain't wrong about that."
"So," Caleb straightened up, dusting his palms together, "wanna head to Rhodes now? I've got nothin' better to do."
Arthur leaned back, thinking it over. Then he nodded. "Yeah, why not. Let's get a move on."
He stood, grabbed his journal, and tucked it inside his satchel, slinging it over his shoulder. Together, they stepped out of the tent and made their way toward the hitching post, where their horses were patiently tied up.
The camp had settled into its usual daytime rhythm, some folks beginning to do their daily chores, others eating their breakfast, a few murmurs of conversation drifting through the air.
As they approached their mounts, a familiar voice called out behind them.
"Arthur! Caleb!"
They turned to see Trelawny striding toward them with his usual theatrical flourish, his cane tapping lightly on the ground.
Arthur sighed. "What is it, Trelawny?"
"Oh, don't sound so enthused," Trelawny grinned. "I merely saw the two of you preparing to leave and deduced, with my finely honed instincts, that it must be due to a certain piece of information I provided earlier."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yeah, somethin' like that."
"Splendid news!" Trelawny beamed. "In that case, I simply must accompany you."
Caleb raised a brow. "You have to come with us?"
"You must?" Arthur asked flatly.
"Indeed," Trelawny said with a grand gesture. "You see, this dear friend we're going to meet, let's just say he's not the trusting sort. Very secretive fellow. If I'm not there to vouch for you, he'll clam up like a frightened turtle."
Arthur groaned, shaking his head. "Of course he will."
"Wonderful!" Trelawny clapped his hands. "Think of it as necessary bureaucracy. Now, come along, gentlemen. I shall lead you to riches and glory!"
He paused dramatically. "Well… perhaps not glory, per se. There's little of that in stagecoach robbery. But riches, certainly!"
Caleb exchanged a look with Arthur, who sighed and mounted his horse.
"Let's get this over with," Arthur muttered.
Trelawny chuckled as he climbed onto his own steed, adjusting his coat with flair. "That's the spirit!"
The three of them rode out, the late morning sun climbing higher over the trees as they left camp behind. The route toward Rhodes was familiar by now, dusty trails cutting through thick pine and maple groves, the occasional rabbit darting across their path, and birdsong carried on the wind.
They kept a steady pace, Trelawny talking most of the way. He spoke of the contact in vague but colorful terms, a man of discretion, someone who understood the value of silence and the weight of gold.
"He's been working that post office for years," Trelawny said. "Knows the ins and outs, who's moving what, where, and when. The man we're meeting is named Alden. A fine fellow. Overworked, underpaid, and deeply disillusioned with the government. Makes him a very valuable friend. Best part? He doesn't ask questions. All he wants is a small fee for his information."
Arthur grunted. "Sounds like most folks these days. Hope he's not just some man with too much curiosity."
"Oh no, my dear Arthur," Trelawny assured. "He's more professional than some of us, I'd say."
Caleb listened carefully, more interested in the tone than the words. Trelawny still wore his usual grin, but Caleb caught the subtle tension in his jaw when he mentioned the man's name. He was keeping something close to the chest. Not maliciously, but certainly with intention. Caleb made a mental note to watch both Trelawny and the clerk during the meeting.
By the time they arrived in Rhodes, the midday heat was setting in. The sleepy town was as they remembered it, dusty, slow moving, with townsfolk lazily going about their business. The sheriff was nowhere in sight, which was a small blessing.
They dismounted near the post office, tying up their horses as Trelawny straightened his coat and tipped his hat low.
"Now, let me do the talking," he said. "Alden's jumpy. But once I assure him of your reliability, he'll be singing like a lark."
Inside, the train station's post office was lit with many oil lamps. There weren't many people inside and behind the counter, stood a wiry man with thinning hair and a nervous disposition. His eyes darted up as he heard footsteps coming toward him.
"Josiah," he said, voice tight. "You're late."
"My sincerest apologies, Alden," Trelawny said smoothly. "But I brought some friends. Reliable ones."
Alden's eyes narrowed at Arthur and Caleb. "That's right?"
Arthur gave him a simple nod. Caleb smiled faintly but said nothing.
"They're good men," Trelawny assured him. "And they're here to do business. Just like you."
Alden hesitated, then slowly nodded. He reached beneath the counter and slid out a leather bound folder.
"Fine. Here's a few coaches worth watching. These schedules come straight from the mail registry. Mostly private coaches with light escort. High end clients. The kind of people who won't want to admit they were robbed."
Arthur flipped through the pages, eyes scanning. Caleb peered over his shoulder.
"This one here," Arthur pointed. "Leaves from Saint Denis, passes through Scarlett Meadows. Minimal escort. Could hit it right outside the bayou."
Caleb nodded. "Clean ambush spot. Plenty of brush, and also quick exits."
Alden spoke again, quieter this time. "You didn't get this from me. Ever."
"Of course not," Trelawny said. "You're just a humble postman."
Alden, hearing that, nodded his head in assurance after Trelawny's remark. He hesitated a moment before tapping two fingers on the counter. "Now… about that small fee?"
Arthur stepped forward, his voice even. "How much?"
Alden subtly held up two fingers, then one. "25 dollars."
Arthur reached into his satchel, pulled out a wad of cash, counted out the amount, and slid it across the counter. Alden snatched it up quickly, as if afraid it might vanish before his eyes. He pocketed it with a small smile and a muttered, "Thank you very much, gentlemen."
"No, thank you, Alden," Trelawny said with a short, graceful bow. "For providing such valuable information."
Just as the trio turned to leave, Alden called out again. "Josiah."
Trelawny turned slightly, raising a curious brow.
Alden leaned over the counter. "If you or your friends ever get out Strawberry way, ask for my colleague there. Feller named Hector. He's also one of the… what do you call us, Josiah?"
Trelawny's smile returned in full. "Discouraged men, Alden."
Alden nodded, chuckling. "That's it. Discouraged men. I like that."
Trelawny tipped his hat. "Well then, goodbye Alden or should I say… adieu."
With a flourish, he bowed low, waving a hand as if performing on a stage.
Alden chuckled and shook his head. "Adieu to you too, Josiah."
With that final exchange, the three men stepped out of the post office and into the bright Rhodes sunlight. The dust kicked up beneath their boots as they crossed back to their horses.
Trelawny walked a little taller, clearly pleased with himself. He twirled his cane once before mounting. "Gentlemen," he said with a dramatic pause, "I believe this marks the beginning of a very profitable relationship."
Arthur mounted up beside him, deadpan. "Long as it doesn't turn into a very short one."
Caleb gave a wry grin. "Let's see where it leads."
At the hitching post, Trelawny adjusted his cuffs and tipped his hat. "Well, my part here is done. I shall take my leave. Best of luck, boys. Try not to get shot."
Arthur chuckled, just a little. "No promises."
"Safe travels, Josiah," Caleb said, half amused.
With one last grand wave, Trelawny rode off, whistling a familiar tune, his flamboyant silhouette growing smaller in the distance.
Arthur and Caleb watched him go.
"Man's got more flair than sense," Arthur muttered.
"And yet, he gets results," Caleb added.
The two men shared a glance, then turned to the matter at hand.
The stagecoach.
They mounted up and rode east, following the route Alden had pointed out. The road from Saint Denis to Scarlett Meadows twisted through the bayou before straightening out near the edge of the forested hills. It was quiet, too quiet. Just birdsong and the occasional rustling wind. They scouted ahead, finally spotting the coach in the distance.
...
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: -