If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!
Go to https://www.patreon.com/Tang12
...
But Charles, ever the pragmatist, shook his head. "That works for a few. But this was their main base. There could be thirty, maybe forty bodies here. That many corpses won't just disappear. They'll bloat, float to the surface, and attract every scavenger for miles. The smell alone will be a beacon. And if the law comes sniffing around…"
Caleb's initial game plan faltered. Charles had a point, a very good one. In the game, when he'd played this same mission as Arthur, there hadn't been nearly this many bodies. But this wasn't a scripted scenario anymore and the consequences were tangible. These were real people. Flesh, bone, and blood. And there were a lot of them.
He frowned, glancing across the carnage, the broken fence line, the mud streaked porch steps, the shell casings glittering in the wet earth. "Yeah… that's not a dozen bodies anymore. That's a goddamn massacre."
Arthur let out a grunt of acknowledgment, seeing the logic. "Alright, smart thinking, Charles. So we split it. We dump half in the swamp. The other half, we haul a good distance from the house, pile 'em up, and burn 'em. Ash don't smell pretty, but it don't last, and it don't leave evidence."
Caleb nodded in approval. "That's a good plan. Efficient."
"Damn right it is," Arthur said with a half smile. "Alright, Caleb, you're with me. We'll handle the swamp dump. John, Charles, you two take the rest and start a burn pile somewhere east of the property, maybe use that wagon over there and brought the bodies. Keep it far enough the smoke don't choke us out here."
"Fine by me," John said, cracking his neck. "I'll handle the fire part. Been a while since I lit somethin' proper."
Charles rolled his eyes with a faint smirk. "Just don't burn the whole forest down."
Before they started, the four of them did what outlaws always did — looted the dead. It wasn't greed, not really. It was survival. The Lemoyne Raiders wouldn't need their possessions anymore, and the gang sure as hell would.
Caleb crouched beside one of the bodies, rifling through pockets and belts. Loose change, bullets, a couple of trinkets. He moved with methodical precision, his system automatically noting the additions to his inventory. 32 dollars and 72 cents, 3x Silver Ring, 1x Gold Ring, 3x Silver Plate Buckle, and 2x Silver Pocket Watch. It was a decent haul, a small financial silver lining to the bloody morning.
He stored them into his system inventory, the faint shimmer of digital distortion flickering as the items vanished from his hands. A strange, invisible magic in a world that had no idea it existed.
When he stood again, his gloves were stained with blood, his shoulders tense from lifting and searching. "All done here," he said, stretching his arms.
For the next hour, the four of them worked in pairs, the silence broken only by grunts of effort and the sickening, heavy thud of corpses being dragged.
The air grew thick with the coppery scent of blood and the encroaching stench of death. Caleb and Arthur began with the bodies closest to the house.
They hauled them by the arms and legs, dragging the corpses through mud and grass toward the jetty. The swamp's air was thick with the stench of decay, but neither man complained. They'd done worse.
"Y'know," Arthur said after a while, panting as they heaved another body into the murky water, "when Dutch said we'd be settin' up somewhere quiet, I didn't think he meant this quiet."
Caleb chuckled darkly. "Ain't quiet yet. Give it a few hours. Once the bodies sink, maybe then."
The body hit the water with a wet splash and disappeared beneath the green surface. A moment later, bubbles rose, and then silence.
Arthur peered down at the dark water. "Guess you're right. Hell, the gators'll eat well tonight."
As they worked, Caleb's mind wandered. Every body was another reminder of how far this world diverged from the one he'd known. The Lemoyne Raiders weren't polygons or NPCs anymore. They had names once, maybe families. The thought didn't bring guilt, but it grounded him.
By the time he and Arthur had dumped a good dozen bodies, sweat slicked his back and mud clung to his boots.
John and Charles took the other half, loading bodies onto a rickety wagon that Arthur have pointed them to in a nearby shed. They drove it a quarter mile down the road, well away from the property line, and built a macabre pyre. The smell of burning wood and flesh soon carried on the wind, a dark signal of their victory and their purge.
Exhausted and covered in grime, the four men reconvened at the old, dried up fountain in the center of the yard. The place was far from clean, but it was clear of the dead.
Arthur leaned against the fountain's edge, looking at John. "Alright, Marston. You're the fastest rider when you've a mind to be. Ride back to the camp. Tell Dutch and the others the place is secure. They can start movin'."
John nodded, slinging his repeater over his shoulder. "You got it. I'll tell Dutch we're clearin' the place up now. Bet he'll be smilin' ear to ear when he hears we finally got ourselves a real home." He then headed toward the trees where the horses were hitched.
Arthur then turned to Caleb and Charles. "You two, with me. We'll stay here, secure the perimeter. Make sure no stragglers from this raider bunch get any ideas about comin' back to reclaim their shithole."
As John rode off, the three remaining men spread out. Charles took up a watchful position on the now cleared second floor balcony, his bow in hand. Arthur began a slow patrol of the tree line.
Caleb, his body aching from the fight and the labor, decided to do a preliminary sweep of the mansion's interior, both to ensure it was truly clear and to get a sense of their new home.
The inside was a tomb. Sunlight streamed through broken windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The floors were scarred with boot marks and dark stains. The smell of gunpowder, blood, and old rot was overpowering.
He moved through the grand, decaying rooms, a parlor with moth eaten furniture, a dining room with a table scarred by knife marks, a study with empty bookshelves.
It was a far cry from the rustic charm of Horseshoe Overlook or the lakeside serenity of Clemens Point. This was a place of faded grandeur and recent violence.
But as he stood in the main hall, looking up at the crumbling staircase, a determined thought solidified in his mind. It was a ruin, yes. But it was their ruin now. It was strong, defensible, and hidden. It was a fortress.
And as he looked out a grimy window, watching Arthur's steadfast figure pacing the grounds, he knew this was the beginning of the endgame. Shady Belle was more than a new camp, it was the anvil upon which the gang's fate would be forged.
The hours stretched on, the silence of Shady Belle broken only by the buzz of insects and the occasional call of a distant bird.
There was no sign of any Lemoyne Raiders returning. Caleb surmised they had either been completely wiped out, or the survivors had taken one look at the quiet, corpse-strewn grounds and decided that discretion was the better part of valor, fleeing deeper into the bayou.
As he waited, Caleb rested against the dried up fountain, his Lancaster and Rolling Block across his lap. His body was tired, but his mind was active, planning his next moves.
Once the gang was settled, he would slip away to Saint Denis. He needed to see the "glamorous jewel of the south" with his own eyes, to walk its gas lit streets and gauge the threat of Angelo Bronte firsthand.
More immediately, he needed to visit the city's fencer to liquidate the rings, buckles, and pocket watches weighing down his inventory. With the cash, he could buy proper city clothes, a fine suit and a new hat, anything to help him blend in and not look like a swamp dwelling outlaw the moment he stepped onto the paved streets.
The sun passed its zenith, and the long wait finally ended. The distinct sound of creaking wagon wheels and the clatter of many hooves reached them from the road. Arthur, who had been pacing near the tree line, stopped and gestured for Caleb and Charles to join him at the fountain.
Soon, John appeared through the entrance pillars, riding ahead of the caravan. Behind him came the gang's wagons, a line of weathered wood and canvas carrying all their worldly possessions. Dutch sat proudly in the front wagon beside Hosea, who held the reins.
The rest of the gang followed on horseback or walking alongside the wagons, the women, Uncle, Swanson, Strauss, and the others, their faces a mix of weariness and wary curiosity.
As Hosea brought the lead wagon to a halt, Dutch step down and stood in place, as his eyes sweeping over the grand, decaying facade of Shady Belle. He took in the sprawling grounds, the defensive potential of the trenches, and the machine gun still mounted on the balcony. A wide, triumphant grin spread across his face.
He hopped down from the wagon with a spring in his step, striding toward the three men at the fountain. "Arthur! Charles! Caleb!" he boomed, his voice full of warmth and victory. "Magnificent! Truly magnificent work! You have secured us a fortress!"
He clapped Arthur on the shoulder, then nodded approvingly at Charles and Caleb. "And let us not forget young Lenny!" he added, turning to include the young man who was just dismounting. "The scout who found the prize! Without you, boys, we would still be huddled by that lake, waiting for the Pinkertons to find us."
Arthur, ever pragmatic, just gave a short nod. "Just doin' what needed doin', Dutch. For the gang."
It was then that Caleb spoke up, his tone respectful but direct. "Dutch, if I may... were we followed on the ride here? The Grays will be watching, and with the news of the Braithwaites bound to spread, the Pinkertons can't be far behind."
The atmosphere shifted almost imperceptibly. Dutch's jovial expression didn't falter, but his eyes locked onto Caleb with an intensity that was hard to read, a flicker of irritation, a dash of condescension, all masked by a veneer of confidence. He let out a short, sharp laugh.
"Followed? Of course not, my boy!" he declared, his voice taking on a patronizing edge. "I personally ensured our departure was clean, our route secure. You must learn to have a little faith. Do not ever doubt me on matters of our safety."
He waved a dismissive hand, the subject closed. Then, his grin returning, he turned back to Arthur. "Now, Arthur! Show me our new home! I want to see every room, every corner of this beautiful ground!"
Before Arthur could lead him away, Dutch turned and shouted across the yard. "Pearson! Miss Grimshaw! I want this place transformed! I want a proper, comfortable camp for everyone! Make it happen!"
As Dutch strode off with Arthur, already pointing and asking questions, Caleb simply shook his head, a weary sigh escaping his lips.
Charles, who had been standing silently beside him, placed a heavy, comforting hand on his shoulder. "Do not let it bother you," the larger man said, his voice a low rumble. "Everyone knows. He has held a... Some sort of grudge... ever since that big argument when you returned from Valentine with Mary-Beth bringing all those supplies."
...
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 4)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 4)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 3)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 3)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 4)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 3)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 3)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 2)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 1)
- 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: 104,021 dollars and 22 cents, 7 gold nuggets, 58 gold bars, 7 silver rings, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 large bags of jewelry, 5 gold rings, 5 silver rings, 6 silver pocket watches, 3 silver buckles, 3 gold buckles, 1 gold pocket compass, 2 platinum pocket watches, 2 Colm's Schofields, and land deed (Parcel)
Bank: -