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Arthur gave a curt nod. "Understood sir." With that, Tavish stepped back and let them prepare. The three of them exchanged quick glances before getting gup on their horses and rid out, with Arthur at the front, Caleb in the middle, Javier at the back.
The job was straightforward enough Caleb thought. But straightforward jobs had a way of turning into something else entirely and after staying in this world, it have happens to him more than once.
The warm southern wind carried the faint scent of hay and manure as the three riders left Caliga Hall behind, their horses' hooves thudding rhythmically over the dirt road. Caleb felt the weight of Tavish Gray's words settling in his mind like stones in a saddlebag.
The old man had been polite enough, surprisingly so, compared to the thin lipped hostility Sheriff Gray usually gave strangers, but there was something about the whole arrangement that didn't sit right with him.
Maybe it was how Tavish spoke in riddles without realizing it, maybe it was the strange generosity of the job. Or maybe it was because Caleb had played through this exact mission before… and the way Tavish had handled things this time was different.
The lines, the pacing, even the air between sentences, it wasn't matching up with the memory stored deep in his Past Life Memory skill when he plays as Arthur.
And in Caleb's experience, any change, no matter how small, had the potential to snowball into a completely different outcome.
As he mulled it over, Arthur and Javier's voices carried forward and back between them, filling the warm afternoon with idle conversation that was more revealing than it first seemed.
"Y'know," Arthur said, keeping his gaze ahead, "that old man Tavish… he is easier to talk to than Sheriff Gray, that's for damn sure."
Javier chuckled. "True enough. Eccentric as hell though, huh? Like Dutch… but without Dutch's habit of talkin' himself into a circle."
Arthur let out a grunt that was almost a laugh. "Yeah. More practical, I'll give him that. Guess that's why he's the head of the Grays."
They rode in silence for a few beats, hooves clopping, the creak of leather saddles marking the rhythm. Then Arthur's tone dropped, less casual now.
"Funny thing though, he never did say why he wanted us to steal the Braithwaites' prize horses."
Javier glanced over. "You're right. And the bigger surprise? We get all the money. All five thousand dollars just like that."
Caleb's ears perked at that, though he already could predict where the conversation was headed into.
"Hell" Javier continued, "most folks in this world can't resist takin' a cut. Five thousand, just like that? No middleman, no skim?" He gave a little scoff. "Maybe that's not much to the Grays, but I've never heard of someone just handin' over that kinda payday without wantin' somethin' back."
Arthur gave a skeptical hum. "I'm not bettin' on gettin' the full five. If we get a third of it, I'll be impressed. Tavish… I don't think he knows what he's talkin' about with those horses."
"That so?" Javier shot him a sidelong look. "You think Hosea and Dutch feel the same as you? I mean, they gotta know more about horses than we do. Especially Hosea. That's why they still decided to take the job."
Arthur shrugged without looking back. "No idea what they're thinkin'. Hosea knows more about horses than any of us, sure. But Dutch? He's lookin' at the numbers and the politics. If they took the job, they think it's worth the risk. Me? I think we take the chance and see where it leads. If it is truly five thousand… it'd be a big payday for all of us."
Javier nodded slowly. "I think we shouldn't think too deep on it. Getting five thousand for stealing some horses? This is the most lucrative and easy job we've had in a long time compared to the ones we've done before. Easier than that mess in Blackwater, anyway."
Arthur gave him a sharp look at the mention of Blackwater, but let it slide. "We'll see how easy it is before we start celebratin'."
It was then Javier seemed to notice the quiet figure riding between them. Caleb had been staring off toward the distant treeline, running routes through his head like a man rehearsing moves on a chessboard.
"You've been quiet, amigo," Javier called. "What's on your mind? You've been quite the whole way."
Caleb blinked, realizing he'd been so far in his thoughts he'd almost forgotten the conversation around him. "Just thinkin' about how we should do this," he said, adjusting the brim of his hat. "Place'll be guarded for sure. No point goin' in guns blazing—they'd hunt us to the ends of Lemoyne if we turned their front lawn into a shootout."
Arthur let out a thoughtful hum. "Agreed. I'm thinkin' we make 'em believe we're there to buy the horses. Rich folk comin' to purchase horses, no reason for 'em to suspect us if we act right."
"That could work," Caleb said, knowing full well this was exactly how Arthur, John, and Javier had handled it in his past life's memory of the game.
Arthur continued, "Grays know about these horses, sure. But rich folks outside their circle probably do too. Nothin' suspicious about three men ridin' in with coin to spend."
Javier raised an eyebrow. "Three men, all armed, sayin' they're buyers?"
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly. "If you're gonna spend five thousand dollars on a horse, you'd damn well be armed to protect it. Still… we don't go in through the front. Too many questions. We'll take the back way in."
Caleb nodded. "Sounds good to me." And just like the game, he thought grimly. Up to a point. He knew that the plan would go smoothly, right until it didn't. And when it went bad, it wouldn't be their fault. Circumstances had a way of twisting themselves at the worst possible time.
The dirt road wound through open fields until the grand sprawl of the Braithwaite manor grounds came into view, framed by weeping willows and flanked by worn wooden fences.
They pulled up at the back entrance, just a simple wooden gate with a lone guard leaning against it, shotgun resting casually in his grip.
"Only one guard," Arthur murmured.
"Let me handle him," Caleb said, his voice calm but carrying a note of quiet certainty.
Arthur and Javier shared a glance, then gave small nods. "Alright," Arthur said.
Caleb nudged his horse forward. The guard straightened at the sight of the three strangers approaching, the relaxed ease draining from his face.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?" he asked, shifting his grip on the shotgun.
Caleb smiled, slow and easy. He tapped into his Acting and Persuasion skills, layering his voice with the kind of confidence that made people listen without realizing why. "We're here to see about some horses," he said.
"Horses?" the guard repeated, brow furrowing.
"Yes, sir," Caleb continued smoothly. "I believe I've got an appointment with a Mr. Braithwaite. We're from a well known breeding farm up in Saratoga. Looking to make a significant investment in some stock down here in the South. Breed the same line for our buyers back home."
The guard's frown deepened. "Ain't heard nothin' about that."
"Really?" Caleb let a flicker of disappointment show. "That's a shame. Guess we'll just have to look elsewhere. I hear a Mr. Gray's got stables down here too." He gave a small shrug, as though the decision to leave was already made.
The guard's eyes widened slightly. Losing a sale that big, especially to the Grays, wouldn't sit well with his employers. "Well, I…" he stammered, then sighed. "Alright then. Go on through to the stables."
"Thank you kindly." Caleb reached into his coat, pulled out a few folded bills, and pressed them into the man's hand.
The guard's face brightened instantly. "Much obliged, mister." He pushed the gate open, letting the three riders pass.
They followed the dirt track deeper into Braithwaite land, the sprawling white manor looming to their left and the wide, open paddocks stretching out to their right.
Arthur gave a low whistle. "That's it. Nice and easy. No need to draw any unnecessary attention."
"Yet," Caleb muttered under his breath, though not loud enough for either of them to catch.
They continued to ride until a greyed building emerged through the thin haze of midday heat, its weathered boards bleached almost silver by years of southern sun. Even from a distance, the shape of the pitched roof and the neat square fencing marked it as a stable.
Arthur leaned slightly in his saddle, eyes narrowing as he took stock. "Think that's it," he said in a low voice. "Braithwaites' stable up ahead. Keep your heads down. Play it cool."
Javier tilted his hat lower, a lazy nod of agreement. Caleb followed suit, shifting the brim of his own hat just enough to shadow his face.
Arthur jerked his chin toward a gap in the fence. "We'll head up 'round the front and hitch there."
They passed through the open gate and turned right, the path crunching under hoof as it wound toward the main yard. Up close, the place smelled of oiled tack and hay, with a faint tang of manure that came standard with working stables.
A man knelt outside, tinkering with a worn saddle balanced across a rail. His shirt was rolled up past his elbows, hands busy with a buckle strap, the quiet clink of metal against leather marking his work.
The three riders dismounted in near unison and hitched their horses to the post out front. Caleb could feel the faint tension in Arthur's shoulders, the kind that came right before a job crossed the threshold from pretending to stealing.
They stepped through the small wooden gate into the yard proper, Arthur taking point.
"Howdy," Arthur greeted, his voice pitched friendly but with that natural authority he carried.
The stable hand paused mid buckle, turned, and sized up the trio. "Can I help you gentlemen?"
Arthur nodded. "Heard you got some horses."
The man smirked faintly. "Always got some horses."
Arthur shook his head. "I mean fine horses."
That earned him a puzzled look. "Don't rightly know what you mean."
Arthur took a small step closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. "We ain't some officials. We're connoisseurs. From a big horse farm up in Saratoga."
Something in the way Arthur said it, steady, certain, no hesitation, made the stable hand pause. His expression shifted, suspicion thinning into cautious interest. Finally, he jerked his head toward the barn doors. "Alright then. Come on in."
Inside, the air was thick with the mingled scents of hay, sweat, and well-fed animals. Sunlight slanted through the high gaps in the boards, striping the packed earth floor in gold. Three stalls sat open, and in them, exactly as Tavish had described, were a black, a grey, and a chestnut thoroughbred.
The stable hand swept an arm toward them. "Here you go. That there's the black, fastest in the lot. The grey's got stamina like you wouldn't believe, and the chestnut…" He grinned. "Well, the chestnut's got spirit."
Caleb took in each animal, their glossy coats, the twitch of ears at the sound of voices. He knew these were the prize stock the Grays wanted. And he also knew this was where things would turn if left to play out like before.
Arthur didn't give the man time to keep talking. He moved in smooth and sudden, an arm snapping around the stable hand's throat from behind. The man let out a choked yelp, boots scrabbling in the dirt, before Arthur tightened his hold.
The horses startled at the sudden movement, ears pinning back as they let out loud, anxious neighs.
"Put your masks on," Arthur ordered sharply, voice low but urgent. The three of them dug into their satchels, pulling out rough sackcloth masks and tugging them down over their faces. Caleb felt the coarse weave scrape his cheek, the musty smell of burlap filling his nose.
...
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)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
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: -