If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!
Go to https://www.patreon.com/Tang12
...
Immediately, chaos erupted. Caleb yanked his pistol and fired into the other O'Driscoll, who hadn't even cleared his holster. Arthur turned and began firing as well toward Colm who manages to dodge. From the flanks, Sadie and Bill rushed out, guns blazing, cutting down two more ambushers before they could react.
Colm seeing the situation was bad, tried to dive for cover behind a big rock, but Caleb was already on the move.
He tackled Colm behind the rock outcropping, and wrestled his gun from him, and slammed his forearm across Colm's throat.
"You knew we'd come," Caleb hissed. "But you didn't know how ready we were."
Colm coughed, sneering. "You think killin' me will stop this? There's always more. Always someone else."
Caleb pressed harder. "But there's only one Colm O'Driscoll."
Colm's face twisted in fury. "Do it then. You don't dare."
Caleb stared at him for a moment before mouthing some words to him saying that he dared. Colm's face turned pale and before he could say anything, Caleb pulled the trigger.
The shot echoed.
Silence followed.
The battle was over. O'Driscoll's bodies lay scattered. Dutch stood slowly, brushing dust from his coat. Arthur holstered his weapon. Sadie kicked one of the corpses for good measure.
Charles made his way down from the ridge. "All clear."
Hosea looked at the carnage, his face grim. "It's done."
Dutch, on the other hand, was silent as he walked toward the body of Colm O'Driscoll.
The noise of the skirmish still seemed to linger in the air, as if the forest itself hadn't yet realized the gunfire was over. Dutch's boots crunched over broken branches and dirt, his shadow stretching long in the waning light.
To anyone else in the gang, this might have been just another body, another victory, another enemy gone. But to Dutch, this was the end of something that had started years ago, long before everyone here except Hosea and Arthur, truly understood the depths of his hatred for the man now lying motionless on the ground.
He stopped at Colm's side, staring down at the man's lifeless form. Memories stirred like smoke in the wind.
Once, long ago, there had been a truce. Their gangs had even traded goods, drunk together, and fought side by side when it served them both.
But all that shattered the day Dutch killed Colm's brother, a killing born out of blood and principle in equal measure, or so Dutch had told himself at the time. Colm had answered in kind, murdering the one woman Dutch had ever truly loved, Annabel.
From there, it had been war. Not the kind you could walk away from.
Years passed, and each fight left more corpses in its wake. The Van der Linde gang and the O'Driscolls became locked in an unending spiral of reprisals, ambushes, and assassinations. The hatred between their leaders became legend among the outlaws of the West.
Colm had despised Dutch's "dull philosophy," mocking his talk of loyalty and a better way of living. Dutch, in turn, had always loathed the way Colm treated his own men like disposable tools, the way he squeezed the life from anyone near him until they had nothing left to give.
And now… it was over.
Dutch still couldn't believe what he saw. Colm O'Driscoll, the thorn in his side for years, lay dead with a clean bullet hole in his forehead. Not his bullet. That fact clawed at him from the inside.
He had dreamed of this moment for years, imagined how he'd stand over Colm's body, revolver smoking in his hand, Annabel's name on his lips. He'd imagined the satisfaction, the finality, the vindication. But the moment had been stolen from him.
He didn't show it. He couldn't.
Crouching down, Dutch stared into Colm's wide eyed expression, the shock frozen in his features. Caleb's shot had been precise, right between the eyes.
Dutch closed the dead man's lids with a slow motion, shutting out that pale, lifeless gaze. His hand lingered for just a moment before he stood again, turning to face the others.
His expression had changed. Whatever frustration boiled inside him, he masked it beneath the same conviction he always wore when he addressed the gang.
"My brothers and sister, my friends, my family," Dutch began, his voice carrying the weight of a man who'd lived through every word he spoke, "what you see here… this is the end of a feud that's gone on far too long. This war between us and the O'Driscolls began as a feud between me and Colm. A feud that started with blood, and that has cost more lives than we can count. But now…" he gestured toward the body at his feet, "…now, there will be no more Colm O'Driscoll. No more O'Driscoll gang."
A few in the group nodded quietly. The clearing was silent except for Dutch's voice.
"Oh, there will be gangs still," he continued, "and they'll fight among themselves, as they always do. But this... this chapter, is done. And I believe, my friends, that this marks the start of a better future. A new beginning for all of us."
Caleb listened, though his eyes kept flicking to the surrounding woods. The bodies of the O'Driscolls lay where they'd fallen, the metallic tang of blood thick in the air. He couldn't help but think they were wasting precious minutes.
A gunfight like this would carry far. The law, bounty hunters, and even the Pinkertons or Cornwall alongside his private army, someone might already be on the way.
While Dutch spoke, Sadie moved closer, stepping quietly until she was beside Caleb. Her voice was low, almost drowned by Dutch's words.
"Thank you," she said simply.
Caleb glanced at her. "For what?"
"For killing him." Her eyes stayed fixed on Colm's corpse. "It's not everything… but at least my Jake's been avenged. At least a little."
Her tone was flat, but there was something underneath, a brittle edge that hadn't dulled since the day Caleb had first met her.
She went on, her voice hardening. "But I swear to you, Caleb, I'm still gonna hunt every last O'Driscoll down. Every one of 'em. I don't care if they scatter, I don't care if they start new gangs. I'll put 'em all in the ground."
Caleb heard her out, but the weight in her words made him hesitate before replying. He didn't want to see her drown in this.
"Revenge is a fool's game, Sadie," he whispered back. "Even if you did it, even if you killed every last one of them, you wouldn't feel satisfied. You wouldn't feel happy. Tell me… right now, after seeing Colm dead, do you feel anything besides that anger still burning in you?"
She didn't answer at first. She stood there, letting Dutch's voice fill the space between them.
Finally, she shook her head. "Relief. And… thirst. That's all. I knew revenge was dangerous, Caleb. But they killed my husband. They defiled me for days." Her jaw clenched, her gaze locked forward. "That's not something I forgive. Not ever."
Caleb exhaled slowly and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I get it. I do. Just… don't let it drive you into something you can't come back from. And if you ever need help, you come to me. Arthur, too. We'll do what we can for you."
Sadie gave a small nod. "Thank you."
Neither of them realized Dutch's eyes had been on them for some time. He'd noticed the moment Sadie had approached Caleb, and he'd been watching their whispered exchange even as he continued his speech.
Inside, a spark of anger flared. This was his moment, his speech, his victory to frame, and they were ignoring him. Treating him like background noise.
He didn't break stride, though. Dutch never did.
It was Hosea who cut things short. "Dutch," he called, "we should move. We don't know who's out there, and we've made plenty of noise."
Dutch's eyes lingered on Hosea for a moment, then he gave a tight nod. "You're right, old friend." He raised his voice. "All right, everyone, loot the bodies and let's get out of here."
That was the end of his speech.
The gang moved quickly, scattering across the clearing. Caleb went straight for Colm's corpse. He crouched and searched the body, finding a wad of cash, about 123 dollars in bills, a platinum pocket watch, a handful of gold rings, and, most importantly, Colm's pair of revolvers.
They were Schofields, but not ordinary ones. The grips had been customized, the barrels engraved with intricate inlays that gleamed faintly in the dying light. He spun one in his hand, feeling the weight and balance. They were fine weapons, and he knew he'd be keeping them.
Arthur passed by, casting a glance at the guns. "Those'll suit you."
"Reckon so, good to sell as well if I want to," Caleb replied.
Within minutes, the gang had taken what they could carry. The air was already cooling as they mounted up and began the ride back to camp. The trail behind them was littered with O'Driscoll's dead body, the final punctuation to a long, bloody feud.
The ride back was quiet at first. The adrenaline had faded, leaving only the creak of saddles and the sound of hooves in the dirt. Dutch rode near the front, his shoulders tense. Hosea was beside him, speaking in low tones Caleb couldn't make out.
Sadie rode behind Caleb, silent but watchful, as if expecting another attack. Arthur rode on the other side, his eyes scanning the treeline.
As they drew closer to camp, Dutch finally spoke up. "Today was important, folks. Mark my words, we've done more than kill a man. We've taken one more step toward something better."
No one answered.
Caleb wasn't sure if it was because they agreed, or because they didn't believe a word of it.
When they reached camp, the mood was mixed as the party was already prepared. Many of course cheered at the news of Colm's death, ending the long bloody feud. Others, like Charles and Hosea, were simply relieved it was over.
Dutch, of course, was the first to speak after they'd ridden in and dismounted. His voice rose over the murmurs of the gang, warm and commanding.
"Let the party start tonight!" he declared, arms spread wide as if blessing them all. "Drink! Eat! Celebrate! What we did today will carry us toward a better future, a future I will lead us to together, as family."
The cheer that followed was immediate, loud, and full of drunken anticipation. Everyone, save for Caleb, Sadie, Charles, Hosea, and Arthur, roared their approval. For most of the gang, the death of Colm O'Driscoll meant nothing more than another excuse to drink until they couldn't see straight.
Within minutes, Dutch had his phonograph wound up and playing a jaunty tune, the scratchy music drifting across camp. The atmosphere shifted quickly from post battle weariness to celebration. Laughter replaced the tension, and the smell of tobacco, beer, and roasting meat filled the air.
Crates of beer and bourbon were rolled out, along with jars of moonshine, the same batch Archibald had given them after they'd wrecked the Braithwaites' illegal stills.
The happiest man in camp was, unsurprisingly, Uncle, who planted himself near the drinks like a sentry. He grinned wide as he discovered he could enjoy three different liquors in one night without moving more than a few steps.
Caleb, meanwhile, quietly slipped away to his tent for a moment. He took Colm's pair of engraved Schofields and placed them into his inventory, their weight vanishing as if into thin air. To anyone watching, it would've looked like he was stowing them in his tent, nothing unusual, nothing to question.
...
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: 1,058 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, 4 gold rings, two silver rings, four silver pocket watches, a gold buckle, a gold pocket compass, a platinum pocket watch, and 2 Colm's Schofields
Bank: -