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"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."
Sadie let out a laugh despite herself. Caleb chuckled too, grateful for the levity on the atmosphere.
As they ate, Caleb's mind drifted back to Strauss. To the ledger. To the debts that had damned so many lives in the name of "camp funds." He'd seen the coffin maker's hollow eyes in his memory, seen the desperation in the faces of those trapped by Strauss's greed.
He swore to himself that if Dutch approved Strauss's request, he'd find another way. Maybe pay the debts himself, clean, without blood. He had the money, more than enough for everything. He also still got his business that generates large profit for him.
But he also knew every action shifted the story, sometimes in ways he couldn't predict. Paying those debts might save one soul, but what if it emboldened Strauss to lend more since the payment was easy due to him? What if it convinced Dutch there was still profit in this cruel life trap?
He rubbed at his temple, frustrated. So many moving parts and so many fragile choices needed to be considered.
Mary-Beth touched his arm lightly, pulling him back. "You alright Caleb?" she asked, her voice low enough not to carry.
Caleb gave her a small smile. "Yeah. Just… I have too much thinking in my head."
Her eyes lingered on him, soft and knowing. "You always do. Just don't forget o share some of it with me, maybe I can help lessen the burden."
Sadie on the side noticed the exchange between them but said nothing, only smirked faintly as she sipped her beer. She was rough around the edges, but she wasn't blind and it help as well the two of them wasn't hiding it or at least trying but failed and everyone in camp already knew as well.
After a while, Sadie stood, dusting off her trousers. "I best get some air before I burn a hole in Dutch's tent with my glare. You two enjoy your meal." She tipped her hat and strode off into the trees, muttering some words under her breath.
Mary-Beth seeing that sighed, shaking her head as wel. "Sadie... she's fire and gunpowder both. I just hope she doesn't strike too close to Dutch."
Caleb's gaze followed Sadie's figure until it vanished into the brush. "Fire can be dangerous," he murmured. "But sometimes… it's the only thing that keeps the wolves at bay away."
Mary-Beth studied him again, as if trying to decipher the deeper meaning behind his words.
Before she could speak, a voice rang out across camp, Miss Grimshaw barking orders at Pearson about the cleaning of the cooking and dining .utensils, Hosea laughing softly at something Arthur muttered, Jack and Cain playing with each other between wagons.
For a brief moment, the camp felt almost normal. Almost like a family, despite the cracks forming beneath the surface. Caleb let the warmth of the stew settle in his stomach, let Mary-Beth's quiet presence steady him.
After they finished eating, Mary-Beth reached for Caleb's empty bowl with her usual gentle determination. "Here, I'll wash this for you," she said, taking both hers and his.
Caleb instinctively pulled back, fingers tightening around the rim. "No need, Mary-Beth. I can do it myself."
But she didn't relent, her soft but stubborn gaze fixed on him. "You've already got enough on your shoulders. Let me take this one thing." She tugged lightly, and though Caleb hesitated for a moment longer, he eventually released his grip.
As Mary-Beth stood with both bowls in her hands, she paused, her eyes catching his in the dim glow of the campfire. "Whatever decision you make, Caleb… whatever action you decide in response to what Dutch did earlier, I'll support you. I'll follow you."
Her voice wasn't loud, wasn't dramatic. It was quiet, steady, and full of conviction. The kind that could pierce through the noise of doubt. She gave him a gentle, reassuring smile before turning toward Pearson's wagon, heading in the direction of the washing basin.
Caleb sat there, watching her go, feeling a weight in his chest shift. Reassurance. He hadn't realized how badly he needed it until it was given to him. For all his foreknowledge of how things were supposed to play out, for all his strategies and calculations, it was Mary-Beth's faith that cut through the fog of uncertainty.
"Damn the butterfly effects," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "The story's already off the rails."
He never thought killing Micah back in Strawberry's jail would lead to this. In his past life, he'd believed Micah was the accelerant to Dutch's downfall, the poison that warped the gang leader's judgment. But now, with Micah gone early, Dutch spiraled regardless, just faster, wilder, and less restrained.
Micah had at least channeled Dutch's paranoia into something tangible, money, ambition, and greed. Without him, Dutch seemed unmoored, erratic, his moods swinging like a pendulum, and much more unpredictable. He was adrift in a sea of his own grandiosity and suspicion.
Caleb leaned back, exhaling slowly. The conclusion was clear that is Dutch's descent wasn't Micah's doing alone. It was in him already. Micah had just pointed the way toward where he likes it until the downfall of the gang.
Resolved in that bitter truth, Caleb stood. He couldn't afford to brood forever. He had to know how the others felt about Dutch's outburst, had to gauge the cracks forming within the gang.
And so he spent the rest of the day moving around camp, striking up conversations with those he hadn't yet spoken to, all while subtly probing their impressions. His Acting and Persuasion skills came into play, smoothing his words, coaxing honesty where suspicion might otherwise keep mouths shut.
Charles was the first he found, sitting cross legged near the edge of camp, carving a piece of wood. Charles listened more than he spoke, but when Caleb carefully broached Dutch's behavior, Charles admitted with quiet bluntness, "He's… changing. Maybe he don't see it, but I do. I'll stay loyal, but I won't follow a man blind." His eyes lingered on Caleb longer than usual, as if weighing him.
Pearson, bustling about with supplies, had a different tone. "Dutch is Dutch," he said with a laugh, waving away Caleb's subtle question. "He's got vision, always has. Sometimes he gets heated, sure, but don't we all? The man's kept us fed and together this long. I still believe in him." Caleb noted the conviction, but also the faint hesitation behind it, as though Pearson were trying to convince himself as much as Caleb.
Karen, lounging near the fire with a drink, was more cynical. "Dutch? He's losing it. Been losing it for a while. I've seen men like him before, big talk, big dreams, then it all goes sour. I ain't saying I'm jumping ship, but I don't trust him the way I used to."
Tilly, calm and pragmatic, was sharper. "Dutch is supposed to be our leader. Leaders protect, not tear down their own. What he did earlier… that wasn't what a leader do." She gave Caleb a pointed look, her meaning clear, she was already questioning where her loyalties should lie.
Miss Grimshaw, overseeing the camp's chores with her usual iron fist, was pragmatic. "Unity is what matters, Mr. Thorne. Dutch's… outburst… was not helpful. It sows division. And division gets people killed." Her loyalty was to the gang's survival, not necessarily to the man leading it.
Javier bristled when Caleb mentioned Dutch, his pride in the man still intact. "Dutch is our leader. He's fought, he's bled, he's carried us all. People forget that too quick. I'll follow him anywhere." But Caleb could hear the faint defensiveness in his voice, the strain of someone clinging tightly to old loyalty.
Lenny, thoughtful and young, was less certain. "I owe Dutch a lot, but… I don't know. The way he talked to you, Caleb, it didn't sit right. Makes me wonder if he's thinking straight anymore."
Sean, ever brash, gave a half laugh. "Dutch? He's mad as a hatter sometimes, sure, but he's Dutch! Ain't no one like him. Don't know if that's good or bad lately, though." His grin didn't quite mask the flicker of doubt in his eyes.
Bill was the most stubborn of all, unsurprisingly. "Dutch knows best. He always has. Don't matter what you or anyone else says. He's the one with the plan." His words were firm, but his tone betrayed cracks. When Caleb nudged gently about Dutch's temper earlier, Bill snapped, "He had reason! Don't mean nothin'!" Denial, thick and desperate. Exactly what Caleb had expected.
By the time Caleb finished, he had a clearer picture. The cracks were deeper and wider than he'd thought. Bill and Pearson clung to Dutch with conviction, though even theirs wavered beneath the surface. Javier's pride was intact, but defensive. The rest? Doubts. Quiet ones, growing louder each day.
Still, there were voices he hadn't reached. Trelawny, gone from camp, likely slipping off into some scheme of his after Dutch's outburst. Abigail, preoccupied in hushed conversation with John. Reverend Swanson, dead drunk as usual, slumped over with an empty bottles of beer and bourbon Caleb himself had brought back.
That left the two most important voices nandchess pieces of all, Hosea and Arthur. Until Caleb knew where they stood, he couldn't know the direction the gang would lean when Dutch's chaos threatened to pull them under.
With that in mind, he finally retired to his tent, stretching out on his bedroll as the night sounds of camp lulled him. His thoughts churned, but exhaustion pulled him under at last.
When dawn came, Caleb woke to the sound of murmuring voices outside. He slipped on his boots, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and stepped out.
The lake shimmered faintly in the early light, and there, just behind his tent by the water's edge, he spotted Arthur and Trelawny.
He paused, listening.
"…slipped into Rhodes yesterday," Trelawny was saying in his smooth, theatrical drawl. "Undercover, of course, under a suitably theatrical disguise. Quite the spectacle brewing down there."
Arthur grunted. "And?"
"The Braithwaites and the Grays…" Trelawny smirked faintly. "Well, while they've been searching for whoever's been blowing up the edges of their lands and outbuildings with dynamite, the most curious thing has happened, they have begun to suspect each other. There have already been skirmishes between their men on the outskirts of town."
Arthur's brow furrowed, his silence heavy. Finally, he asked, "You think it's a ruse? Or you think they really believe it?"
Trelawny tilted his head, tapping his chin in mock contemplation. "Hmm. It is impossible to say for certain, Arthur. I cannot ascertain with certainty if it is all deception, but their blame of each other is quite genuine. They are blaming each other with a passion usually reserved for bad theater reviews. The fights are real."
Arthur exhaled as he stood there, arms crossed, his weathered face half in shadow as the early light shimmered across the water, muttering something under his breath. His eyes narrowed at the water, as if weighing possibilities.
The lake behind camp was calm, a soft mist rising off its surface. Trelawny, ever the dramatist, had his hand gesturing with every word, his voice low but smooth.
"Fascinating thing about families with power, Arthur," Trelawny said, adjusting the brim of his hat. "They're like snakes in a barrel. The moment one suspects the other, there's nothing but strikes and venom."
Arthur grunted. "Or maybe it's just Dutch's leftover mess causin' more chaos. We stir up quite the hornet's nest, don't be surprised when they come swarmin' looking for the honey they looking for."
...
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: -