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The camp came alive instantly, voices rising, feet rushing, lanterns glowing brighter. Caleb, meanwhile, felt Mary-Beth's hand slip from his arm as her attention turned. She had noticed Penelope, who stood quietly beside Arthur, her eyes low, her expression solemn. Mary-Beth leaned closer to Caleb, whispering, "Who is she?"
Caleb glanced at Penelope, then back at Mary-Beth. "That's Penelope Braithwaite. Arthur's been helping her for some time. Tonight, he pulled her out of that burning house. She's gonna lay low here for a bit before Arthur helps her meet up with her lover and get clear of Lemoyne for good."
Mary-Beth's eyes widened in surprise. "A Braithwaite?" She stared blankly, her lips parting. Then she simply nodded, though her eyes flicked back to Penelope with quiet curiosity.
Penelope, noticing the glance, offered a tentative smile. "Penelope Braithwaite," she said softly, inclining her head.
Mary-Beth blinked, then gave a polite but faint smile back. "Mary-Beth Gaskill."
Penelope's eyes turned then to Caleb. "And thank you, too. For everything. For agreeing to help Arthur, and for… for getting me out of that place."
Caleb waved dismissively, shaking his head. "Weren't a big deal. Just livin' up to my word of having Arthur's back. And knowing your story… think of it as redemption. Maybe the last chance for your family's name to mean something good, instead of the madness they lived by."
Penelope let out a dry chuckle, her voice brittle but grateful. "I'll take that," she murmured. She nodded, holding herself a little taller.
Arthur clapped a hand on Caleb's shoulder. "Come on," he said, looking at the three of them. "Let's join the others, celebrate Jack bein' back."
But Penelope shook her head quickly, her hands twisting together. "Thank you, Arthur, truly. But no… no, I couldn't. I don't feel right joining in. I'm not part of your gang. And my family… we're the reason for all this." She gestured vaguely at the celebrating camp, at Abigail still clutching Jack.
"If it's all the same to you, I'd just like to stay out of the way. Over there, by that campfire, perhaps?" She pointed toward the smaller, more isolated guard fire at the edge of the camp, near where Uncle and Kieran had been standing watch.
Arthur studied her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright. Stay close enough so we know where you are. But don't go wanderin'. We'll bring you some food."
As Arthur moved toward the growing celebration, Caleb and Mary-Beth lingered for a moment. "You sure?" Mary-Beth asked Penelope, her voice gentle. "No one here blames you."
"I know," Penelope said, offering another small, sad smile. "But I blame myself enough for all of you. I'll be fine. Go, enjoy your family."
Caleb gave her a final, approving nod before taking Mary-Beth's hand. He led her toward the heart of the camp, where the music was starting, and the drinks was beginning to flow, joining the celebration.
Penelope meanwhile turned around and walking toward the outskirts, her steps measured and weary, the weight of the night's events pressing down on her like a heavy cloak.
She settled by the small guard campfire, its flames crackling softly, casting long shadows across the grass as she stared out toward the dark expanse of Flat Iron Lake, the water lapping gently against the shore in the distance.
Meanwhile, the camp erupted into full celebration mode. Pearson bustled about his stew pot, pulling out bottles of whiskey and beer from the supply wagon, while Miss Grimshaw was giving some final touches on the set up tables with whatever food the gang had on hand, fresh venison from a recent hunt, biscuits baked earlier that day, and even some canned peaches for a touch of sweetness.
Reverend Swanson, already a bit unsteady on his feet from his habitual flask, raised a bottle in a toast, his voice slurring through a sermon like cheer. "The Lord has delivered the child from the jaws of the wicked! Hallelujah!"
Karen and Tilly laughed, linking arms as they danced a little jig around the central fire, their skirts swirling in the night air. Molly hovered near Dutch, her eyes adoring as he regaled the group with exaggerated tales of the raid, his charisma pulling everyone into his orbit like moths to a flame.
Caleb sitting on a log, watched it all with a quiet satisfaction, his arm still loosely around Mary-Beth's shoulders. She leaned into him, her earlier worry melting away in the warmth of the moment. "It's good to see everyone like this," she murmured, her voice soft amid the growing din of laughter and clinking bottles. "After all the trouble... Jack's back, and that's what matters."
"Yeah," Caleb agreed, his eyes scanning the crowd. He spotted John and Abigail still huddled with Jack, the boy now giggling as his mother tickled him gently, wiping away his tears with kisses. John stood nearby, a rare, genuine smile on his scarred face, one hand resting protectively on Abigail's back. It was a family reunited, fragile but real, and for a moment, the gang felt unbreakable.
Meanwhile at this time Dutch, who always liked to be the center of attention, and with the adrenaline of the night's success still pumping in his blood, climbed onto a crate near the main fire camp. He held a half-empty bottle of bourbon in one hand, his coat flaring slightly as he balanced, and spread his arms wide. His booming voice carried over the laughter, the music, and the crackle of fire.
"My friends! My brothers! My sisters!" he called, drawing every gaze in the camp. "My family!"
The effect was instant. Conversations tapered off, the fiddle slowed, even Pearson's ladle clanged to a stop against his pot. Everyone, including Caleb and Mary-Beth, turned toward him. Dutch, drinking in the silence, let it stretch a heartbeat longer before he grinned and raised his bottle high.
"Tonight," he said, "is a symbol! For us, for all of us here. Proof that when this family is united, united under a common goal, united under one leader, we can take whatever it is we want in this god forsaken world!"
The declaration exploded in cheers, whistles, and clapping. Sean hollered, Karen whooped, Bill banged the butt of his rifle against the ground like a drum. Even Swanson, swaying drunkenly, muttered a "Hallelujah" before nearly toppling over.
Dutch's smile sharpened as he pressed on, his words booming like a preacher's sermon. "Look at what we've done this very night! We brought young Jack back to his mother's arms because we were united beneath me, beneath our purpose! We showed those who would dare to toy with us that we are no fools, that when they play their games, they are playing with fire!"
The camp erupted again, louder this time, fueled by whiskey and victory.
Yet beneath the noise, several pairs of eyes narrowed. Caleb, seated with Mary-Beth leaning into his side, his arm tightening briefly. He could hear it, how Dutch had twisted the victory into his own proof of authority, how he made it sound like their success was only possible because of him.
Sadie, leaning against a wagon wheel with her arms folded, caught his gaze briefly and gave a faint shake of her head, she'd heard it too. Charles, ever watchful, merely exhaled and stared into the fire. John, holding Abigail close as Jack squirmed with laughter, kept his jaw tight.
Hosea, sitting further back in the shadows, rubbed at his temple while taking some puff of his cigar with a look of troubled resignations. And Arthur, who had returned from checking on Penelope and giving her some food by the guard fire, simply stared up at Dutch, jaw set, the corners of his eyes hard with unspoken doubt.
They noticed what most others, drunk on relief and liquor, did not, that Dutch wasn't just celebrating. He was weaving authority into every syllable, framing their triumph as his triumph, their unity as proof of his leadership. It was true, perhaps, that without him the plan would've faltered, but there was no need to crown himself with it so boldly.
The rest, however, drank it all in. Their trust and belief in Dutch, already bolstered by Jack's safe return and the Braithwaites' downfall, only deepened. Or else the liquor dulled their thoughts enough to keep them from noticing. Uncle, especially, who had begun drinking the moment the gang returned, let out the loudest "hear, hear!" of them all.
Dutch basked in it all, raising his bottle once more before lowering his voice into something almost conspiratorial, forcing the camp to lean closer to listen. "But…" He let the word hang. "While tonight we celebrate, we cannot forget what tomorrow brings. We cannot blind ourselves to the road ahead. This life we lead, it is not static. We cannot linger here. We should not linger here. Not with eyes on us, not with the Pinkertons breathing down our necks."
The cheer ebbed, like a wave pulling back from the shore. Faces sobered. Shoulders slumped. The fire crackled louder in the pause.
Dutch's tone softened, almost gentle now. "After long talks with dear Hosea, I believe it is time. Time to move on from this beautiful spot. Time to set our eyes further down the horizon, before those who would destroy us come sniffing again."
A heavy silence spread. The gang had not been at camping here at Clements Point for long. It had only been a few short weeks since Horseshoe Overlook, and before that, Colter. The thought of packing up once again weighed on them like stones.
Mary-Beth sighed softly beside Caleb. "Again?" she whispered. "We barely just settled."
He squeezed her shoulder in silent agreement, though he knew Dutch was right. This place, no matter how pretty by the lake, would not stay safe forever.
Dutch scanned their faces, reading the doubt. He knew he had to keep them from slipping into despair. He raised his hand high, grinning wide. "But do not be sad, my friends! Because a new spot has already been found. A perfect spot!"
His finger shot out, pointing through the firelight toward where Lenny stood, bottle in hand, caught mid sip. "And it is thanks to young Lenny here, brave, bright Lenny! That this was made possible!"
All eyes swung toward the young man, who blinked, then broke into a proud grin despite his flushed cheeks. Sean clapped him on the back so hard whiskey sloshed from his bottle. "That's our lad, eh! Sharp as a tack!"
Dutch lifted his voice again. "Because of Lenny bringing Arthur and Caleb along to steal those caches of who brought Arthur and Caleb to steal those caches of rifles that Hosea managed to sell, that we know of it. Down northeast, under the Grays' land, there sits a big plantation mansion. Hidden. Secure. Perfect for us!"
The murmurs rippled through the gang. "Plantation mansion," Javier repeated with interest. "Sounds like somethin'."
"The only problem… it belongs to the Lemoyne Raiders," Dutch admitted with a dismissive wave. "A vile pack of jackals, parasites on this land. But tell me, my friends, what happens to jackals when the lion shows his teeth?"
"They scatter!" Bill bellowed.
"They die!" Sean added gleefully.
The crowd roared with agreement. Some muttered already about "kicking those bastards out," voices thick with liquor and bravado. Lenny grinned wide, chest puffed out, proud of his contribution.
Dutch let it swell, then raised his hand for silence. "So here is what will happen. Tomorrow, or perhaps the day after, once our heads are clear of this fine drink, I will send Arthur… Caleb… Charles… and John." He gestured to each of them in turn, his tone reverent, like naming apostles. "They will go to that mansion. They will cleanse it of raiders, purge it of filth, and claim it in the name of this family. While they do, the rest of us will pack, prepare, and when the way is clear, we will move, together, strong, and united."
...
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: -