She then arrived and saw Arthur, Caleb, and Javier standing together by the horses, a small stack of money being split three ways. Arthur clapped Caleb on the shoulder once, Javier did the same, and after a few quiet words, the two men walked off, leaving Caleb by himself.
Her chest tightened.
She approached quietly, her voice soft when she finally spoke. "Caleb? Are you okay?"
Caleb turned at the sound of her voice, and the guarded calm softened just enough for him to offer a smile, "I'm okay," he said. "Nothing to worry about."
But Mary-Beth knew smiles. She could read the difference between the easy ones and the ones meant to keep others from asking too much. And this was the latter.
Something in her chest tightened. Without thinking, she reached for his hand, her fingers curling around his. "Come on," she said softly.
He didn't resist as she led him away from the main fire and the lingering eyes of camp. They walked toward the second campfire, the smaller one near the edge of the perimeter where the shadows of the treeline made the world feel quieter. She sat down on a log and gently tugged him to sit beside her, her hand still holding his.
For a moment, she didn't speak. Her thumb brushed against his knuckles, and when she finally did speak, it wasn't what Caleb expected.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
His brows drew together. "Sorry? For what? You haven't done anything wrong."
Mary-Beth shook her head, her grip on his hand tightening slightly. "I'm apologizing for what Dutch just did. I heard enough to know you tried your best, that you turned a bad deal into something better. You brought back more than you were first offered, and he should've been proud of that. You didn't deserve what he said."
Caleb blinked at her, momentarily caught off guard. Then, slowly, a warmth spread through him, not the kind from the fire, but from her words. He squeezed her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her skin.
"Thank you," he said, his voice lower now. "It means a lot, hearing that from you. Don't worry about Dutch. I can take whatever he throws at me."
Mary-Beth smiled then, soft and a little sad at the edges. She lifted her free hand to his cheek, her touch light but lingering. "I know you can," she said. And then she leaned in.
The kiss began as a light touch, a meeting of lips that carried more comfort than urgency. But as Caleb returned it, her hand sliding to the back of his neck, it deepened.
Their mouths moved together with more intent, and soon enough, their tongues met in a slow, deliberate dance that made the air between them feel warmer than the fire at their backs.
When they finally pulled apart, both were breathing harder than before. Caleb's lips curved into a smile as he saw that Mary-Beth's face was flushed, her eyes bright but uncertain in the way someone might be after taking a leap they'd long considered.
Caleb reached up, his finger resting lightly under her chin, tilting her face back toward his. He held her gaze, the firelight flickering in his eyes.
"We've been sharing these moments together," he began, his voice steady but carrying a weight that made her breath hitch. "And some of what we've done… that's what someone does with their partner. So what I want to ask is…"
He paused then, taking a deep breath.
Mary-Beth's heart skipped, her eyes widening. She hadn't expected him to use this moment, though deep down, she'd hoped for it since their date in Rhodes.
Caleb exhaled slowly, then continued, "Mary-Beth… would you like to be my official partner, on this journey of our lives together?"
For a heartbeat, she just stared at him. Then her face bloomed into something radiant, a smile so bright it could rival the campfires themselves. She nodded, quick and certain, and her voice came out in a rush.
"Yes. Of course I would. You've made me feel something I never thought I'd feel for anyone, and… you're going to have to take responsibility for that."
Caleb chuckled at her phrasing, but there was a softness in his eyes that didn't fade. "Gladly," he said.
She laughed then, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his. They stayed like that for a moment, the sounds of the camp fading into the background.
When they finally pulled back, Mary-Beth's hand slipped back into his, and they sat together watching the fire burn lower. The tension from earlier seemed smaller now, like it belonged to another day entirely.
Still, Caleb's mind wasn't entirely at rest. Dutch's reaction at the hitching post wasn't something he could forget. It wasn't about fifteen hundred dollars, not really.
It was about control, about the fact that Caleb had taken the lead and Arthur had backed him without hesitation. That, more than the shortfall in cash, had struck a nerve.
Mary-Beth seemed to sense his thoughts drifting, because she gave his hand a squeeze. "You're thinking about him again."
"Yeah," Caleb admitted. "But I'm also thinking about what you just said to me. And about us."
Her smile returned, warm and certain. "Then think about that more. It's worth your time."
He nodded, deciding she was right. The rest of the night could belong to them. Dutch's problems would still be waiting come morning, but so would the answer to them, one way or another.
The fires burned low, the night settled in, and in the small circle of warmth at the camp's edge, Caleb and Mary-Beth sat together with joined hands, the weight of the day softened by the promise of something new.
And though neither said it aloud, both understood that, no matter what came next, they'd be facing it together.
Across the camp, Arthur sat alone inside his tent at the side of his bed, rolling a cigarette and replaying Dutch's outburst in his head. He'd seen Dutch frustrated before, even angry, but there had been something different in his eyes tonight.
He couldn't quite place it, but it left a sour taste in his mouth.
Charles passed by, giving Arthur a brief nod. "Heard you brought in more than you were offered," Charles said quietly. "Not bad."
Arthur smirked faintly. "You can thank Caleb for that. He's the one who talked 'em up. I was about ready to walk away."
Charles's brow furrowed. "Then Dutch should've been thanking him too."
Arthur just took a long drag from his cigarette and didn't answer.
Javier, meanwhile, was back by his own bedroll, strumming his guitar without his usual flourish. His mind wasn't on the music but on the way Dutch's voice had cracked with real anger. He'd seen men fight over less, but Dutch's words tonight had been aimed like bullets at Caleb alone.
He wondered, briefly, if that meant something more was brewing.
In the end, Javier closed his eyes and let those thoughts drift away. He didn't want to dwell on them, not tonight. If he did, the beautiful gang like a family dream might start to look like the nightmare it was becoming, and he wasn't ready to face that.
Better to follow the lead of those he trusted and keep walking forward, even if the ground was starting to feel uneven beneath his boots.
Meanwhile, at Dutch's tent, Molly stepped out into the cool night air. Her face was flushed, not from drink, but from the heated words they'd just traded.
She had asked for a bit of time together, just to talk, to find some comfort in each other. Instead, Dutch had turned it around, snapping at her, blaming her for "not understanding" the pressures he was under yet again. She'd seen that scowl before, but after that outburst, it have came too quickly, too easily.
She paused at the tent flap and looked back. Dutch sat inside, the lantern throwing deep shadows across his face. He didn't look at her, his gaze was fixed somewhere else entirely.
Molly shook her head and walked away, deciding she'd sleep with the girls tonight. At least there, the air wouldn't feel like it was closing in on her.
Inside, Dutch was stretched out on his bed, the 900 dollars still clutched loosely in his hand. His eyes traced the lines of the tent ceiling, but his mind was far away, replaying the conversation he'd had earlier with Caleb, Arthur, and Javier.
He remembered the look on Caleb's face, the way Arthur had stepped in to defend him for the second time that week, and then stopped, stopped because Caleb had given him the signal.
To Dutch, that was the real betrayal. Not the words. Not the shortfall in the take. The signal. The silent understanding between two men that excluded him entirely. If Arthur had defied that signal and spoken anyway, Dutch would still see it as betrayal, but not the deepest kind. This… this was something else.
And instead of regret for his anger, Dutch found himself savoring it. For that brief moment, he had felt in control again. He had spoken his mind, let a bit of that buried resentment out into the open, and it had landed exactly where he'd aimed it, squarely at Caleb.
Still, he'd seen the looks. Arthur's hesitation. Javier's measured quiet. They hadn't said it out loud, but he could read it in their eyes, a crack in the trust, small but real.
Dutch shut his eyes, trying to cage the darker voice inside him, the one that wanted to push harder, take more, burn away whatever loyalty still lingered until only obedience remained. He couldn't unleash that voice yet. Not if he wanted to keep what he had.
With a slow breath, he opened his eyes again and sat at the edge of his bed. He turned up the lantern, reached for the book resting at his side, The American Inferno by Evelyn Miller, and let its familiar weight settle in his hands. Miller's words had always been a balm, the only thing that seemed to cut through the noise in his head lately.
Outside camp, Caleb and Mary-Beth were making their way back from the quieter fire. She stayed close to his side, her hand brushing his now and again. When they reached the girls' tent, both were surprised to find Molly already there, sitting on the edge of her bedroll with her shawl wrapped tight.
One look was all it took. Caleb thought back to Dutch's temper earlier and wasn't surprised Molly had taken the brunt of it too.
She wasn't the sort to bite her tongue when pushed, and Dutch had been lashing out more often lately. If she'd decided she couldn't sleep in his tent tonight, he could hardly blame her.
Mary-Beth glanced at Caleb and gave a small, subtle signal, one he understood immediately. She wanted to speak with Molly.
He nodded. "Good night," he said softly to Mary-Beth, then in a normal tone to Molly, "Night, Molly."
"Night," Molly replied, her voice quieter than usual.
Caleb left them there, letting the two women talk while the rest of the girls slept. Sadie's bedroll was empty, which didn't surprise him, she was often out late if something needed doing. Hosea and Sean were nowhere to be seen either.
That combination usually meant some sort of plan was in motion, and if Hosea was involved, Caleb wasn't worried.
The old man was pragmatic, realistic, everything Dutch wasn't these days. With that thought, he returned to his own tent. He unbuckled his gun belt, set it beside his bedroll, pulled off his boots, and lay down. Sleep came easier than he'd expected, the warmth of Mary-Beth's earlier words still lingering somewhere deep inside him.
...
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: 1,258 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: -