If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!
Go to https://www.patreon.com/Tang12
...
Once the preparations were well underway, Dutch summoned his key fighters. They gathered in a tight circle away from the main bustle, where there's Dutch himself, then there are Hosea, Arthur, Caleb, Bill, Javier, Charles, Sean, Sadie, and Lenny. The air crackled with a volatile mix of rage and grim resolve.
Uncle and Kieran were left behind deliberately, Dutch charged them with watching over camp while the fighters rode. Uncle grumbled, as always, but the old man's eyes carried worry. Kieran said nothing, only nodded stiffly, eager to prove himself useful in any way.
Dutch's tall figure loomed as he looked at his chosen crew. His voice was calm, measured, but every word pulsed with suppressed rage.
"We ride at evening," Dutch began, his voice low and deadly serious. "We will approach the Braithwaite manor and demand they return Jack to us, unharmed. We will give them a chance to do the right thing, to avoid bloodshed." He paused, his eyes hardening. "But if they refuse… if they so much as hesitate… if they show their teeth... then we do what must be done, we shoot our way in. We will tear that godforsaken mansion apart board by board until we find the boy and drag him out of there."
He paused, letting the words sink in, then turned his head toward his oldest partner. "Hosea, Arthur, what do you think of my plan?"
The campfire crackled in the silence. Hosea and Arthur looked at each other. Years of partnership passed in a single glance, both men weighing Dutch's words. The idealism of their youth was gone, replaced by the cold pragmatism of survival.
Finally, Hosea spoke, his tone weary but resolute. "I agree with you, Dutch. We don't have the luxury of choice here. Either they hand the boy over peacefully, or we take him by force. Sneakin' in? No. Not with that many of those goddamn inbreds crawling the grounds." He shook his head. "It'd be suicide."
Arthur grunted in agreement, spitting to the side. "We'll do whatever you say, Dutch. But Hosea's right. Too many guards, too many eyes. Creep in quiet and we'll just end up in the ground. Better to go in strong."
Caleb stayed silent, listening. Hosea was right. He knew it in his bones, knew it from the game. There were too many Braithwaites lurking in that cursed house and its grounds. Even if two men somehow crept inside, it'd only put them in worse danger. The only way was the direct, brutal way. His own role was to be a part of that brutal calculus, to ensure they all came out alive on the other side.
The others nodded or muttered their agreement. Bill flexed his fists, grinning. Javier cracked his knuckles. Sean laughed under his breath like he was eager for the fight. Charles only nodded once, silent but resolved.
Sadie's eyes gleamed, already hungry for revenge. Lenny's jaw was tight, but his young voice was steady: "Then we'll bring him back." There were no dissenting voices. The kidnapping of a child had unified them in a way Dutch's speeches never could.
Seeing the unanimous support, Dutch's confidence, which had been so badly shaken, swelled visibly. This was his element, the righteous crusade, the family united against a common enemy. "Good. Good! Then it's settled." He declared. "We go in as one, and we ride out with the boy. Ready yourselves, by evening, we make the Braithwaites pay."
The group broke apart, each man and woman heading back to sharpen blades, clean weapons, and prepare for what was coming. Dutch lingered only long enough to light a cigar, exhaling smoke that curled like stormclouds above his head, his expression grim and triumphant.
Time crawled after that. The sun began to tilt toward the horizon, golden light spilling through the trees. The camp was heavy with anticipation, the air almost humming.
When the time arrived, the nine riders assembled at the front of the camp. They were a formidable sight Dutch, resplendent and furious; Hosea, the old strategist; Arthur, the grim workhorse enforcer; Caleb, the quiet wildcard; Bill, the brutish rider; Javier, the skilled gunslinger; Charles, the stoic warrior; Sean, the hot headed Irishman; Sadie, a force of nature fueled by rage; and Lenny, the youngest, his face set with determined courage. The air was thick with the smell of gun oil and leather.
As Caleb walked toward Morgan, a hand caught his arm. He turned to see Mary-Beth standing there. Mary-Beth have slipped away from the other women and hurried over to him. Her hand that grabbed his arm, had a tight grip, her eyes wide with fear not for herself, but for him.
"Caleb," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please… stay safe. Be careful out there." Her voice cracked at the end."
He looked deeply at her, and the hard mask he'd worn for the planning session softened a she let out a gentle smile. He reached out and gently brushed the top of her head, a familiar, soothing gesture. "I will be," he promised, his voice low and steady. "I'll be careful. You keep yourself safe here, you hear?"
She nodded, her eyes searching his for a long moment before she reluctantly released his arm. He gave her a final, reassuring smile before turning and swinging up into Morgan's saddle. He took his place in the line of riders, the weight of his Lancaster Repeater and Pump Action Shotgun was a familiar comfort against his back.
Dutch sat tall upon The Count, his gaze sweeping over his small army. The theatrical orator was gone, replaced by a field general. His voice rang out, clear and commanding, the kind of voice that made men believe in impossible things.
"Mr. Matthews! Mr. Morgan! Mr. Thorne! Mr. Williamson! Mr. Escuella! Mr. Smith! Mr. Macguire! Mrs. Adler! Mr. Summers!" he called out, his voice ringing with command in the twilight. "Let's ride!"
The command rolled through the camp like thunder.
With a unified kick of heels and a chorus of determined clicks, the nine riders surged forward. They moved out of the clearing at a brisk trot, the sound of their horses' hooves a thunderous drumbeat heralding the coming storm. They didn't ride as individuals, but as a single, avenging spearpoint aimed directly at the heart of Braithwaite Manor.
Behind them, the camp watched them go, the non combatants holding their breath, Abigail sobbed into her hands as beside her was Molly with her hand around her shoulder. Karen, Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Miss Grimshaw stood together, their eyes following the men and women riding out. Swanson clutched his bible, whispering prayers into the twilight. The time for talk was over. The time for blood had begun.
Meanwhile the air was heavy with foreboding during the ride. Each rider was silent, save for the creak of saddles and the pounding of hooves. They were heading toward the Braithwaite manor, toward danger, toward a storm that Caleb already knew would change everything.
The ride wasn't long. From Clemens Point to Braithwaite Manor was nothing but a steady push south, following the main road once they cleared the forest. Hooves beat rhythmically against packed dirt, the air thick with tension as the sun dipped lower, washing the world in hues of gold and crimson. The silhouettes of the gang stretched long across the ground, nine riders moving with one purpose.
Caleb felt Morgan's stride steady and powerful beneath him, the bond between horse and rider strong, his Horse Mastery making every subtle cue work like instinct. The air smelled of lake water behind them, swamp rot further east, and smoke from the camp they had just left. But ahead, trouble. He knew it, they all knew it. The Braithwaites weren't going to give up Jack without blood.
Arthur slowed his pace, tugging the reins so his horse fell in line beside Morgan. Caleb glanced at him, brow raised. Arthur leaned slightly closer, voice kept low so Dutch wouldn't overhear.
"You remember that pair of young lovers I been helpin' that I told you about? The Grays and Braithwaites' kin, Beau and Penelope?"" Arthur muttered, his tone cautious but weighted with thought.
Caleb glanced over, nodding once. The memory was clear, a foolish, hopeful plan in the face of two venomous families. "Beau and Penelope? Yeah. I remember. Why?"
Arthur let out a heavy sigh, the sound ripped away by the wind. "They was plannin' to run off. Elope to Boston. The boy, Beau, he asked me to help 'em get away. Was supposed to be soon." He paused, his jaw tightening. "But now this… this mess with Jack happened. And Penelope, she's still in that damn manor."
Caleb clicked his tongue, frustration gnawing at him. So Arthur hadn't gotten them out yet. In his head, he'd assumed things had already played out like he remembered, Penelope safe with Beau, tickets in hand, heading to Boston for their future. But the reality was different. Not every string had been tied, not every beat had matched what he thought he knew.
"So what do you wanna do, Arthur?" Caleb asked, voice low, serious. "You plannin' to use this chance to pull her out while we're in the thick of it? Get her to lay low 'til her and Beau can get their ticket to Boston?"
Arthur's eyes narrowed, his face caught between frustration and certainty. "I don't know 'bout Boston yet. But one thing I do know? This won't end peaceful. Not with Dutch leadin' us, not with Jack in their hands. If it turns into hellfire, and I reckon it will,nthen I aim to get Penelope out while we're at it."
Caleb nodded, no hesitation. "Then that's what we'll do. Whatever you need, I'll back you. We'll get the boy, and we'll get her. Maybe even use her to gather some information, earn us some goodwill, maybe a reward later. But at the very least, we'll see her safe with Beau."
Arthur actually smiled, the rare kind that showed he was grateful beyond words. "Thanks, Caleb. I mean it. You're a good man."
Caleb smirked faintly, shaking his head. "Didn't I promise I'd have your back on anything? I mean that promise. Whatever it takes."
Arthur nodded firmly. "Then when we're inside, I'll split off for Penelope. You keep your eyes on Jack. You're quicker thinkin' than most, and I trust you to keep him safe if I can't be there."
Caleb raised his hand slightly in mock salute. "Consider it done."
That was that. No more words needed. The pact was sealed between them.
By the time their hushed talk ended, the riders had reached the stretch of white dirt road that led to Braithwaite Manor. The trees lining either side rose high and ominous, their branches forming a kind of grim archway over the path. It was like riding into the gullet of some waiting beast.
Dutch lifted a hand from his reins, slowing the column. His voice carried sharp and controlled, every syllable pressed tight with authority. "Eyes forward, heads steady. We do this as one. Whatever happens in there, all of you follow my lead. No one pulls iron 'til I give the word."
A low chorus of grim affirmatives answered him. Murmurs of "Yes, Dutch," and "We hear you," rippled through the line. Caleb could feel the tension winding tighter, like a spring about to snap.
The white gravel crunched beneath their horses until the looming stone walls of the manor's entrance came into view. Twin pillars framed the way forward, the gate yawning open like a predator's jaws.
Dutch pulled The Count to a halt. "From here, we go on foot," he ordered.
One by one, the gang dismounted. Leather creaked, weapons clinked as rifles were shifted and revolvers checked. Caleb swung down from Morgan, patting her neck once. "Stay sharp, girl," he whispered. The horse snorted, as if in answer, and then tied him to a low branch near the wall.
...
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: -