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...
Shady Belle sat ahead of them, a rotting old plantation house surrounded by sagging porches and half collapsed outbuildings. The once grand columns were stained brown with mildew, and the shutters hung loose. But despite the decay, there was life here, men in ragged Confederate coats milling about with rifles slung, a pair of guards at the porch steps, smoke rising from a fire pit at the side.
Lenny cursed under his breath. "Damn. Looks like a whole platoon."
Arthur leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he scanned the yard. "They're armed, no doubt about it. See that crate by the porch? Rifles stacked high. They ain't collectin' dust in there, they were definitely used."
Caleb followed his gaze, then pointed discreetly. "Cash box should be in there, in that room. Upstairs office, most likely. The problem is, too many eyes between us and it. If we go in without any plan or distraction, we'll have the whole of them come after us instantly."
Arthur gave him a look. He'd long since stopped asking how Caleb knew things he couldn't possibly know, he just accepted it. "So what's your call? How should we do this?"
Caleb took a breath, weighing the memory against the reality in front of him. The skill told him one thing. But he also knew Dutch's mood, knew how fragile things were in camp. If they botched this, if the take was too small or too bloody, Dutch would use it as another excuse to tear into him.
"We go there and clean this area," Caleb said finally. "Create some sort of distraction, take all of them out, and then take whatever we can carry with that wagon over there, and then get out from here, after all, we don't know if there were more of them out there. I think that this is the perfect place to become our camp if we ever need one also. Better mark this place as well."
Lenny grinned, pulling his revolver and checking the cylinder. "Now that sounds like fun, Caleb."
Arthur hearing that nodded his head, "I like the way you think Caleb, and now that you said it, it is a great place to become our camp," before then went to check his own rifle. Then he looked at Caleb. "So how are we going to do this? What distraction do you have in mind?"
Caleb immediately pointed toward the wall fences that ran the outside perimeter of the plantation house. His finger traced right, then left, sharp and certain.
"Arthur, you take the left. I'll be on the right. We'll hide behind those walls, we watch the area, and keep 'em guessing when things go bad. Lenny—" he paused a beat, weighing the words, "—you walk in the middle. You'll be the distraction."
Lenny blinked, his grin faltering as his face turned into a confused one. "Me?"
"No offense," Caleb said carefully, his voice low and deliberate. "But you said it yourself on the ride here. These people hate colored folks, especially brown or black skin. If you walk in there, they'll all focus on you. They won't see us until it's too late for them t realize we even here."
Arthur straightened immediately, shaking his head, his skepticism plain. "Hold on. You really think it's smart sendin' Lenny out there like that, Caleb? Yeah, sure, it's a distraction, I won't deny that. But his safety, he'll be walkin' into a nest of rattlers who'd like nothin' better than to string him up. That ain't somethin' to play with, Caleb."
For a moment, Lenny stayed quiet, his jaw tight. Then he glanced at Arthur, his expression softening. "I appreciate that, Arthur. Truly. But I can handle myself. Been handlin' this sort of thing my whole life. They ain't the first bunch to look at me like I don't belong. Won't be the last."
He squared his shoulders. "But with you two coverin' me, I know I'll be fine. I know what I need to do to keep their eyes on me, and I can act well enough to get 'em nice and riled."
Caleb stepped closer and placed a firm hand on Lenny's shoulder. "Listen Lenny. If you don't want to do this, you don't have to. I'll find another way to make it work. You hear me?"
But Lenny only shook his head, eyes burning with a mix of eagerness and stubborn pride. "No. I want to do it. I need to prove I can be more than just camp guard duty or last pick when Dutch hands out jobs. I ain't just a kid. I can stand with the rest of you."
Arthur opened his mouth again, about to argue, but the words caught in his throat. He saw it, plain as day, in Lenny's eyes. The need to prove himself. The weight of always being treated like the "young one." The boy was ready to step up, even if the risk was high.
Arthur let out a long sigh through his nose and looked away, finally nodding. "Alright. But you listen close, Lenny. The second me or Caleb open fire, you dive for cover. Wagon, tree, ditch, I don't care what it is. Don't play hero, you hear? You duck and you stay low if it turns sour."
Lenny grinned, his youthful fire shining through. "I promise. Don't worry."
Satisfied as they were ever going to be, Caleb unstrapped his Rolling Block rifle from his back and checked the chamber. "Then we're set. Arthur, left side. I'll take the right. Lenny, wait for the signal. You walk in nice and slow, play it up. Once the hornet's nest is stirred, we'll start swattin'."
The three men crouched low as they moved, boots crunching softly in the weeds. The humid air carried the smell of damp wood and old rot, the plantation looming larger as they approached their positions. Caleb slipped behind the cracked stone pillar at the right side wall, Arthur doing the same on the left.
From their cover, Caleb gave the nod. Arthur raised two fingers, then lowered them.
Go.
Lenny straightened himself out, took a steadying breath, and walked forward into the open like a man approaching a gallows. At first, he shouted like he was asking for help, voice carrying just enough to stir the yard. "Hello? Anybody here? I need a hand!"
The Lemoyne Raiders looked up one by one, their faces twisting when they saw him. Ragged old coats bristled, and cruel smiles spread like a disease.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" one drawled, stepping closer. "Looky here, boys. Some lost n**** come wanderin' in like he owns the place."
Lenny didn't flinch. He kept walking slow, deliberate, heading toward an abandoned wagon sitting half collapsed in the yard. Caleb could see the way his eyes darted, measuring the distance, the angle, the cover he could dive behind once the lead started flying.
The Raiders circled like vultures, their taunts growing louder, uglier. "Why don't you come inside, boy? We'll make sure you stay nice and comfortable. Ain't that right, fellas?"
The laughter that followed was sharp and poisonous.
Arthur hissed under his breath from the other side. "This is gettin' ugly. We shoot now."
Caleb had already settled the scope against his eye. "On three."
"One."
Lenny kept walking, his voice rising louder, mocking back now like he'd rehearsed it. "Funny bunch of old ghosts you are. Thought the war was over. Guess nobody told you, you lost."
The Raiders snarled. Hands went to rifles.
"Two."
Arthur's finger tightened on the trigger.
"Three."
The twin cracks of their rifles split the humid air at the same time. Caleb's bullet tore through the lead Raider's chest, while Arthur's round dropped the man nearest the porch.
Chaos erupted instantly.
"RAIDERS! WE GOT COMPANY!" someone bellowed as the yard exploded into motion.
Lenny dove behind the abandoned wagon just as bullets started chewing splinters out of its sides. He fired back with his revolver, keeping their heads low.
Arthur worked the bolt of his rifle and fired again, dropping another man as he tried to sprint for the porch. Caleb picked off one aiming down at Lenny, his shot clean through the neck.
The Raiders scrambled, some ducking behind crates, others running to grab rifles stacked by the porch. The once quiet plantation became a battlefield in seconds, the air full of gun smoke and shouted curses.
Caleb kept his fire steady, cold, and calculated. Each time he squeezed the trigger, another man fell. But there were plenty more pouring out of the house now, rifles cracking from upper windows, muzzle flashes bursting in the gloom of the rotting halls.
Arthur cursed as a bullet smacked into the wall inches from his head. "Damn near took my hat clean off!" He leaned out, snapped a shot, and dropped the shooter.
"Keep 'em busy!" Caleb shouted back. "We clear enough of 'em, we move for the house. Cash box is upstairs!"
"You better be right about that!" Arthur growled, reloading.
Lenny popped out from behind the wagon, his revolver barking three times in quick succession. One Raider went down clutching his stomach, and another staggered before collapsing. The kid was holding his own, fearless despite the hail of lead around him.
But Caleb knew it couldn't last forever. The yard was swarming, and for every man they dropped, another seemed to take his place.
"Arthur!" Caleb called, slamming another round into his rifle. "We push left, clear the porch, and get inside. Lenny covers us from here!"
Arthur fired one more shot before nodding. "On your word!"
"Now!"
Both men broke cover, rifles in hand, sprinting low across the yard. Bullets hissed past, kicking up dirt at their heels. Caleb shot from the hip, dropping a Raider rushing from the porch steps.
Arthur fired a blast from his rifle into another's chest, and together they crashed against the bottom of the porch as Lenny kept shooting from the wagon, yelling curses back at the Raiders.
"Up!" Caleb barked.
Arthur charged first, putting a bullet clean through the forehead of the guard on the steps. Caleb followed, his rifle butt smashing into another man's jaw before finishing him with a shot to the chest. The porch was theirs in a heartbeat.
Behind them, Lenny whooped, still laying down fire. "Go! I got you!"
Caleb and Arthur burst through the open door into the dim, moldy interior of Shady Belle. The air smelled of rot and gunpowder, and the creak of boots upstairs told them more Raiders were waiting.
Arthur glanced at Caleb, breath heavy. "Looks like we stirred the hornet's nest good this time."
Caleb racked his rifle, a grim smile tugging at his lips. "Good. Let's burn it down."
Then they turned their focus to the front hall of Shady Belle who swallowed them whole, the dim interior closing in like a tomb.
The doors slammed against the wall as Arthur and Caleb burst through, rifles raised, the reek of mildew and gunpowder mixing with the faint sourness of rot. The wide foyer was shadowed, lit only by streaks of sunlight that cut through broken shutters, dust spiraling in the air like drifting ghosts.
Arthur didn't hesitate. He shouldered his rifle and laid down a volley at two Raiders scrambling near the base of the stairwell. One fell immediately, chest caved by the shot, the other staggered, clutching at his throat before collapsing across the stairs, blood spreading in a wide, dark smear on the faded carpet runner.
"Clear the floor first!" Arthur barked, kicking forward. Caleb swung right, his rifle already braced. The saloon like parlor ahead flickered with movement, a Raider half hidden behind an overturned table. Caleb didn't give him the chance to pop up. His rifle cracked once, the bullet splintering wood and bone alike.
...
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: -