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The night that followed was loud with celebration. They drank, they ate, they laughed. Lenny was the hero of the hour, everyone patting his back, toasting to him. Caleb sat by the fire with Arthur, both of them quieter, watching Dutch move from group to group like a king among his subjects. His speeches were shorter now, but his voice carried the same force as always.
Arthur muttered, his voice low and grim, just for Caleb. "He didn't believe me."
"I know," Caleb said quietly.
"He thinks we're holdin' out on him. Or worse, that you are, and I'm coverin' for you."
Caleb met his friend's worried gaze. The trust between them was solid, but it was now under immense pressure from Dutch's decaying paranoia. The two gold bars in Caleb's inventory felt like they were burning a hole in his soul, not out of guilt for taking them, but for the rift their mere existence was causing.
"Let him think what he wants," Caleb said, his voice low. "We know the truth. And we need to start thinkin' about what happens when his 'plan' involves that dynamite."
The fire crackled between them, sparks lifting into the night. And above the laughter, the clink of glasses, and Dutch's rich, rolling voice, Caleb felt the weight of it pressing down.
There's an unspoken truth settled between them, and that is that in their view, the biggest heist hadn't been at Shady Belle. It was happening right here in camp, and Dutch was stealing away the one thing they couldn't afford to lose and that is their unity.
If there was one thing Caleb could feel relieved about through all of this, it was that Arthur had finally started to see what he himself had noticed long before, that something was wrong with Dutch. Maybe Arthur had been forced to acknowledge it now because of Dutch's recent outbursts, the kind that couldn't be ignored.
Sure, the incident with Molly in camp had been bad enough, something Arthur tried to ignore at the time, convincing himself Dutch was just stressed, that it wasn't a pattern.
That was straight from the reality Caleb remembered from the game. But then came something that had never happened before, Dutch snapping and punching Uncle.
That one shook the camp to its core. And it didn't stop there. The man also lost his temper and snapped at Caleb himself, and he'd done it in front of Arthur, it left Arthur no room to deny what was unraveling.
Arthur couldn't keep pretending after that. The denial he once wrapped around Dutch like a blanket of loyalty was fraying apart thread by thread. He still wanted to help, to pull Dutch back to the man they all believed in, the man who raised them like sons and daughters, like they were his family.
But as Arthur sat by that fire, his jaw tight and his eyes shadowed, Caleb could see it plain as day. That he wanted to pull him back to the man he used to be. But Dutch's behavior of late… Caleb knew it was going to be damn near impossible.
And right now? Caleb's mind was somewhere else entirely. Thinking about Dutch's "plan." Thinking about those crates of dynamite sitting heavy in the camp wagon. What kind of plan needed that much powder? What scheme was so grand that Dutch had to talk to someone first, to make sure it could go ahead?
That wasn't in the game. Not even close. Even a sane man who'd never heard play the game before would think this was strange, because a plan involving that much dynamite? It wasn't just a robbery.
That was something that could take down a bridge. Hell, that could blow half a mountain to pieces if you placed it right. Caleb doubted Dutch would actually use it all at once, but even the idea… it was enough to send a cold ripple through his gut.
What was Dutch planning? And why was he planning it alone, without Hosea or Arthur? Whatever his "grand plan" was, Dutch had concocted it in secret, and that secrecy was poison.
The questions clawed at him so hard he had to shake his head to clear them. And then, quietly, he decided, maybe it was time for him to leave for a while. To step out of this boiling pot before it overflowed. He'd earned it after the day they'd had. And besides…
Valentine. He had to check on his food stall. Was the business still booming? Or had it settled into a steady pace now that the hype was dying down? Maybe there weren't as many customers anymore. He didn't know, and he hated not knowing.
With that decision hardening in his chest, Caleb stood up from the log by the fire. Arthur's eyes followed him, curious.
"I'm gonna head to my tent, get some rest," Caleb said, keeping his voice easy, like this was nothing more than fatigue.
Arthur looked up at him, surprise flickering in his tired eyes. "Rest? This early? While everyone's still celebratin'?"
Caleb nodded, letting out a soft chuckle. "Been a long day. My legs feel like lead. I need sleep more than a bottle of beer or bourbon right now."
Arthur studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Alright. Get some rest, Caleb."
"Good night, Arthur," Caleb said, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder before turning toward his tent. He felt Arthur's eyes on his back the whole way.
The campfire glow stretched long shadows across the dirt, the laughter and chatter dimmed behind him, replaced by the low hum of crickets and the crunch of grass beneath his boots. Caleb was halfway to his tent when a soft hand caught his. The touch stopped him cold, and he turned his head to see who it was.
Mary-Beth.
She stood there in the firelight, cheeks faintly pink but eyes steady. Caleb's stern expression softened instantly into something tender. He gave her a gentle and doting smile. His gaze held warmth as he spoke softly, "Well, hey there."
He reached up with his free hand and brushed a few loose strands of her hair aside, his fingertips lingering for a heartbeat longer than usual. Mary-Beth's blush deepened, but she didn't flinch. She could handle this kind of tenderness in public now.
"Where are you goin'?" she asked, her voice quiet but curious. "Everyone's havin' such a good time. Why aren't you staying?"
Caleb chuckled low, the sound deep and fond. "Just tired, sweetheart. Wanted to get some rest."
That answer made her blink in surprise. Her brow furrowed slightly in surprise, but then her eyes softened again, understanding flashing there. She knew what he'd been through today, gunfire, heavy lifting, the weight of danger pressing in. Still, something told her there was more to it. Something he wasn't saying.
Before she could stop herself, words slipped out of her mouth in the smallest voice. "Can I… join you? Sleep with you?"
The question froze Caleb for a moment. Caleb blinked, stunned. For a moment, his mind was a runaway train, filled with all the adult thoughts and possibilities her words conjured. But he pushed them back, forcing them down. That wasn't Mary-Beth. Not now. Maybe not ever. She was too pure for that, too good.
He swallowed and tilted his head at her, smiling gently but curious, his voice carried honest surprise. "Mary-Beth… why'd you ask that? You know what folks would think if you came in with me."
At that, her face flared crimson, hotter than the campfire glow. She looked down, fumbling for words before blurting out, "Because… because I feel like you're hiding something from me."
Caleb stared for a heartbeat, then laughed softly, warmly. He tilted her chin up with one finger and brushed the tip of her nose with another, a tender teasing gesture. "You're real sharp, you know that? Sensitive as a hawk. You're right, I was thinkin' about somethin'."
Her eyes lifted, hopeful.
"I was actually plannin' on headin' back to Valentine. Stay there for a bit," Caleb admitted. "Got some business to tend to."
Mary-Beth blinked, startled. Her eyes widened. "Business? What kind of business would make you go back?"
Caleb grinned slyly, letting his voice drop into a playful drawl. "Secret business."
She puffed her cheeks, frowning, but her relief was obvious when he added, "Nothin' dangerous, I promise."
She relaxed a little at that, though she crossed her arms with mock indignation. "You better not be lying to me. But if you think you're going alone, you're wrong. I'm coming with you. And that's final."
Caleb stared at her, honestly stunned by the steel in her tone. Then he laughed softly and shook his head. Lord, she was somethin' else. Then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. She really means it. And maybe… maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Camp was becoming dangerous, even if no one wanted to admit it yet. Dutch's secret plans involving dynamite, and his growing temper, Caleb didn't like any of it. Maybe… maybe Mary-Beth was safer with him than here in camp.
He nodded his head. "Alright. You can come. But we'll need an excuse for Miss Grimshaw and Hosea. They ain't gonna just let you vanish without reason. Some excuse that won't make 'em think twice."
Mary-Beth smiled like she'd just won a duel, and her literary imagination already kicked into gear. "I think I have thought of something to use as our excuse."
Caleb shook his head, chuckling. "You're somethin' else, Mary-Beth. Okay tell me what is it."
Mary-Beth's eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and cunning. "I've got it," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We tell them I'm going with you to help gather information in Valentine. There are places… where a woman can hear things men never would. I can talk to the ladies there, listen to gossip. I want to contribute more than just mending socks and washing dishes. I found the lead on that train in Scarlett Meadows, didn't I? The one you and the others robbed. This is just… expanding my role."
Caleb stood there for a long moment, his brows knitting as her words settled deep. It was a thin excuse, sure, but it wasn't without truth. She had a point. Mary-Beth was observant and had a knack for picking up useful tidbits. In the chaotic state of the camp, with Hosea preoccupied by Dutch's erratic behavior, it might just slip through.
"It might work on Hosea," Caleb conceded. "He's got bigger things on his mind. But Miss Grimshaw…" He shook his head, a note of genuine concern in his voice. "She's sharp as a tack and pragmatic as hell. She'll see right through it if we're not careful. She guards you girls like a hawk. If she smells somethin' off, she'll shut it down quick."
Mary-Beth raised her chin slightly, a stubborn glint in her eyes that almost reminded Caleb of Sadie in her own way. "Then let me handle her. She listens to me more than most. Not by much," she added with a small smirk, "but enough. You let me worry about Miss Grimshaw."
Caleb studied her for a long beat, then nodded. "Alright. Then I'll handle Hosea. But I ain't lettin' you do it alone. Tomorrow, I'm comin' with you to talk to Miss Grimshaw. Just to back you up, make sure she don't swat the idea down before you get a word in on her."
Mary-Beth smiled at that, a soft, genuine smile that reached her eyes. "Fair enough."
"Good," Caleb said with a little nod, his voice warm but carrying that steady undertone that always seemed to calm her nerves. "And pack your things tonight. Travel light. Soon as Miss Grimshaw and Hosea say yes, we're leavin'. No lingerin'."
...
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 3)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 3)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 2)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 3)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 4)
- 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: 1,656 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 3,245 dollars, 7 gold nuggets, 8 gold bars, 7 silver rings, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 large bags of jewelry, 4 gold rings, 2 silver rings, 4 silver pocket watches, 3 gold buckles, 1 gold pocket compass, 2 platinum pocket watches, and 2 Colm's Schofields
Bank: -