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After saying that, he didn't wait for an answer, instead tapping his ledger. "Since the two of us known that you're a man with high talent for acquiring things back, I want to ask for your help one again. Here, I have a new list of individuals here in Lemoyne who have been… reluctant… to honor their debts after I come to them to get their payment."
Caleb's blood ran cold. Strauss was telling him to do the debt collection missions once again, now I twas the part where he lend money while they were staying here. There are several desperate people like the young coffin maker, who have to dug out a grave and take the jewelry of from a body he have buried.
Caleb looked at Strauss, at his greedy, expectant eyes, and then over at the scene of John, Abigail, and Jack. He thought of Mary-Beth, of the legitimate business he was building. He had 150,000 dollars in his inventory. He had no need for Strauss's blood money. But it doesn't mean the gang doesnthaveneed for the money.
"I see that you have been doing your devil's work again, Herr Strauss," Caleb said, his voice firm and his eyes serious. "But I think even if I adhere to my promise, I can't do the job right now. You have seen and hear it yourself that no one can leave camp for a while, especially me, maybe you just have to let go of those moneys you lend."
Strauss didn't answer at first. He only blinked once, slowly, like a man trying to confirm if he truly heard what had been said to him. Then his face hardened. His brows drew together, and his lips pressed into a thin line.
"Mr. Thorne, Absolve them?" Strauss said, his accent sharpening the syllables and with outrage. "Do you hear yourself? Those debts cannot simply be absolved. This is not charity. This is business. Those funds came from the camp treasury, money set aside to keep everyone here fed, armed, and clothed. We are not speaking of a handful of dollars. No. We are speaking of a hefty sum, enough to buy two full rounds of supplies for the entire camp."
His voice grew tighter as he pushed the tips of his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. His eyes locked onto Caleb's with a kind of desperate severity. "You cannot dismiss this. Dutch would understand, will understand, if it is for such an important matter. And you, Mr. Thorne—" he pointed his thin finger directly at Caleb "—were not involved in our recently failed… endeavor. That makes you the perfect choice. The Braithwaites and the Grays will not suspect you. You can move freely, where others cannot."
Caleb let out a long, steady sigh, his chest rising and falling with the weight of it. He knew exactly what Strauss was asking, and he hated it. He could almost smell the graves again, the damp earth, the desperation of men and women with nothing left to give.
He thought of the coffin maker, pale and hollow eyed, forced to dig up a body he had once laid to rest just to strip it of valuables. The kind of thing that stayed with a man, poisoning him from the inside.
He clenched his jaw, then met Strauss's greedy, expectant eyes. The man was a leech, stubbornly clinging to his pound of flesh.
"Herr Strauss," Caleb said slowly, firmly, "it's not that I don't understand what you're sayin'. But hear me. If I go along with absolvin' those debts, then I'll make it my duty to replace that money myself, through other means. I have ways, and you know I can deliver." He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. "And while it's true I wasn't part of that blasted plan, you know as well as I do I've used too many identities in Rhodes already. Pushin' me out there again could compromise the whole damn situation we're tryin' to hold together."
The German clicked his tongue in irritation, his fingers drumming once against the ledger before he sighed heavily. For a moment his shoulders sagged, as though weighed down by the sheer stubbornness of the man in front of him. Then, gathering himself, he snapped the ledger shut.
"Very well," Strauss said, his voice clipped. "If that is your stance, I shall be the one to bring it to Dutch. I will explain that you refuse. But hear me, Mr. Thorne, if Dutch allows it, you will go and collect those debts as you promised. If he forbids it, then very well, you must find someone else to do it in your place. One way or another, the money comes back to us."
Caleb let out a soft chuckle that carried no real humor. "Good luck to you, then. If Dutch listens, if he even lets you finish, it'll be a miracle. And if he does send me out, you remember what I said, I've burned too many names already in Rhodes. If things go south, the blame won't fall on me. I've warned you."
Strauss narrowed his eyes but gave a curt nod. "So be it."
With that, their uneasy exchange ended. Caleb straightened his back, turning his gaze away from the stern little banker and toward the heart of the camp again. His thoughts churned as he walked, wondering if Strauss truly believed Dutch would side with him, or if he was just clinging to whatever leverage he thought he had left. Either way, Caleb knew Dutch wasn't exactly in the mood for bookkeeping. If Strauss tried, he might get cut off before his pitch even left his mouth.
Still, Caleb knew Strauss was relentless. The man was like a tick, always burrowed in and always feeding.
As Caleb thought on this, a voice called out from near the cookfire.
"Caleb!"
He turned his head. Mary-Beth stood beside Pearson's cauldron, her hair catching the glow of the firelight, a wooden ladle in her hand as she scooped steaming stew into a bowl. She smiled warmly, her gentle features a relief after the cold steel of Strauss's stare.
Caleb's mood softened immediately. He walked toward her, returning her greeting with a nod and a faint smile of his own.
"Evenin', Mary-Beth."
"Come eat with me," she said brightly, holding up the bowl. "You haven't eaten since morning. Don't think I haven't noticed."
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "You caught me. I guess I can't say no, can I?"
"Of course you can't," she teased, pressing the bowl into his hands.
He glanced down at the stew, thick, fragrant, hearty in its own way. After waiting for her to scoop herself another bowl, the two of them sat together on the bench near the fire, side by side. Caleb tasted the stew slowly, savoring the warmth it brought after the day's strain.
They had only taken a few bites when another voice, rougher but friendly, cut through the evening air. "Well, if it ain't the two saviors of the hour." Sadie Adler said, striding over with her usual boldness. She dropped onto a log across from them, tipping her hat back. "Mind if I sit? Don't worry, I ain't here to steal your supper."
Mary-Beth gave a warm smile, while Caleb gave a small nod of welcome.
Sadie leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "I just wanted to say thank you. For the supplies. Lord knows I was goin' mad eatin' whatever slop Pearson managed to scrape together. 'World famous stew,' my ass."
Her laugh was sharp, but genuine. Then she fixed her gaze on Caleb. "Don't let Dutch's bark get to you. You did right, bringin' in what you did. Folks here'd be worse off without it."
Caleb chuckled softly. "Thanks, Sadie. That means more than you know."
"Kind words?" she scoffed, waving a hand. "Ain't kind words. It's the damn truth. Somethin' Dutch can't seem to handle these days. He's been blind to truth for a long while now."
Her voice grew harder, her eyes narrowing as the fire crackled. "That little scheme of his, blowin' up the Grey's and Braithwaites' land? It was his alone. We all got dragged along, and when it blew up in our faces, who did he blame? Everyone but himself. He's the one who got the information. He's the one who had us blow half of Lemoyne to hell. Now we're hunted harder than ever. Same old story for Dutch."
She spat into the dirt, the anger rolling off her in waves.
Mary-Beth's brows knitted together. "Were you involved in the plan too, Sadie?"
"Goddamn right I was," Sadie said, her chin lifting with a defiant pride. "I don't sit around lazin' like that old fool Uncle. And I won't lie, the action… it gets the blood pumpin'. But it was a stupid plan. A suicide run. If Arthur hadn't been there to hold me back, I would've shouted it right in Dutch's face to call the whole damn thing off. It endangered every single one of us, and for what?"
Caleb, hearing that only stirred his stew slowly, thinking on Sadie's words. She wasn't wrong. None of them were. Dutch was slipping, and each day the cracks widened. Caleb knew the dam would burst eventually.
Mary-Beth meanwhile frowned, her spoon paused halfway to her lips. She wasn't used to hearing Sadie speak so bluntly about Dutch, at least not so openly in camp. "Sadie…" she began softly, like she wanted to temper the storm. "Don't say too much. If Dutch overhears—"
"Then let him," Sadie spat, fire in her eyes. "Someone needs to tell that man the truth, before he drags us all into the grave with him. Ain't you all sick of it? Sick of sittin' here in the dirt while he spins tales about his grand plan and a future that never come?"
Her words carried, sharp as a whipcrack. A few nearby heads turned, but no one spoke. People were used to Sadie's outbursts by now.
Caleb stirred his stew slowly, hiding the grim twist of his mouth. He knew where this road was heading. Dutch's paranoia, Sadie's anger, Strauss's greed, they were all threads tugging tighter around the noose. He couldn't stop every unraveling, but maybe, just maybe, he could redirect enough pieces to keep some of them alive.
He looked at Mary-Beth, who kept her gaze low, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. Her quiet resilience was something Caleb cherished more than he ever admitted. She was one of the few who still carried warmth, still carried hope, even as the world grew darker around them.
"You're not wrong," Caleb finally said, breaking the silence. Sadie's head snapped toward him, fire meeting fire. "But you're not entirely right either. Dutch… he's slipping, yeah. We all see it. But shouting at him, calling him a fool? That won't change him. Only make him dig in deeper. The more we push, the more he'll push back."
Sadie scoffed, but there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes. "So what then, Caleb? Just let him keep leading us into the pit?"
"No," Caleb said simply. He set his bowl aside and leaned forward, his voice low, steady. "We watch. We plan. We look out for each other. When the time comes, and it will, we make sure folks like Hosea, Arthur, Mary-Beth, John, Abigail, Jack,hell, even you, ain't caught in the collapse. Dutch won't listen. But maybe the rest of us can still choose."
Mary-Beth blinked at him, surprised by the weight in his words. Sadie, though, gave a sharp nod. She wasn't one for patience, but she understood loyalty to the people who mattered.
"Fine," she said, taking a long pull from the tin cup she carried. "But if that bastard gets someone else killed 'cause of his foolishness, I ain't keepin' quiet no more."
"Fair enough," Caleb replied. For a moment, silence lingered. The crackle of the fire, the low murmur of camp life around them. Then Mary-Beth, ever the peacemaker, gave a small laugh, trying to ease the tension. "You two sound like a pair of old crows arguing over a fence post."
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 7/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 6/10
- Luck: 8/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 4)
- 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 3)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 1)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 0)
- Crafting (Lvl 3)
- Persuasion (Lvl 3)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 4)
- Teaching (Lvl 2)
- Germanic Language Proficiency (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 10x10x10)
- Acting (Lvl 3)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
Money: 1,814 dollars and 46 cents
Inventory: 103,988 dollars and 50 cents, 7 gold nuggets, 58 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, 2 Colm's Schofields, and land deed (Parcel)
Bank: -