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(A/N: Also everyone I have a new novel a Dragon Age Inquisition novel named "From Couch To The Inquisitor", be sure to check it out and give some power stone)
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"Bring around the carriages and the riding horses," Caleb ordered. "It's time to show them the rest of the kingdom." The capos quickly brought up a convoy of open air transport wagons and saddled riding horses. Caleb mounted his black Arabian, while Eagle Flies, Rains Fall, and Charles swung up onto their own mounts. The working members of the tribe climbed into the wagons, and the massive procession rolled out of the valley, heading north across the rolling plains.
The scale of the Thorne Holding Company's monopoly became starkly apparent over the next several hours.
They rode to the Silas Miller ranch near the Twin Stack Pass. Caleb explained how this property would serve as the primary grazing plain, pointing out the newly reinforced fencing and the sheer volume of the herds that dotted the hillsides like white clouds.
They rode further west, toward the massive, sprawling acreage that had once belonged to Ben Hugh.
"This is the primary cattle staging ground," Caleb explained to Rains Fall, as they sat on their horses overlooking a valley filled with literally thousands of head of premium cattle. "When the herds are mature, your men will drive them from the outer annexes to this central point. From here, they are marched directly to the Valentine auction yards, which I also own, and loaded onto my trains. It is a closed loop. Every single blade of grass they eat, every drop of water they drink, and every mile of track they ride belongs to us."
Rains Fall stared at the staggering sea of livestock. The sheer logistical magnitude of the operation was almost impossible to comprehend. "It is a place they shows cycles of life, Cale. To move this many animals requires the coordination of an experts."
"Which is why I hired an army of the finest experts of animals in the world," Caleb smiled, gesturing to the Wapiti braves riding in the wagons.
As they rode back toward the central ranch in the late afternoon, passing through several dense groves of trees and narrow canyons, Rains Fall looked around, a faint shadow of concern crossing his weathered face.
"The land is vast, Caleb. But vast land is difficult to protect," Rains Fall noted, his eyes scanning the tree lines. "In Ambarino, we only had to watch the mountain passes. Here, the borders are open. Will my people be safe when they ride out to these distant pastures? I have heard stories of the outlaws that plague these plains."
Caleb pulled the Arabian to a slow walk, riding close to the Chief's paint horse.
"You do not need to worry about the outlaws, Rains Fall," Caleb reassured him, his voice carrying a dark, absolute finality. "May of the outlaws have been warned. Through some intimidations of course, like burning their camps to the ground and slaughtered some leaders some time ago. These men knew if they try to terrorize this part of the state, then they will be dead and buried. This part of the territory is clean."
Caleb gestured to Eagle Flies, who was riding a few paces ahead. "And for any foolish, desperate rustlers who think they can slip through the cracks, they will have to answer to your son. Eagle Flies will have the young mens armed with weapons supplied by me, patrolling these borders day and night. If your workers ride out in the morning, they will return safely to their cabins in the evening. You have my word on that."
The lingering anxiety in Rains Fall's chest evaporated. He believed Caleb. The tycoon spoke of threatening outlaws with the casual certainty of a man discussing the weather.
They returned to the main ranch as the sun began to dip low on the horizon. The workers dispersed to their respective cabins to wash up and prepare for the evening meal.
Caleb dismounted his Arabian, handing the reins to a waiting capo. He looked across the yard and saw Arthur Morgan leaning against the fence of the main corral, watching a group of young Wapiti boys marveling at the massive draft horses.
Caleb smiled, formulating a quiet plan. He walked over to Rains Fall, who was currently un saddling his paint horse.
"Chief," Caleb said softly. "If you have a moment, there is someone I believe you should speak with."
Rains Fall looked up, following Caleb's gaze to the older outlaw leaning against the fence. "Mr. Morgan?"
"Arthur is... a complicated man," Caleb explained, his tone carrying a deep, protective affection for his friend. "He has lived a life of violence, much of it directed by men who did not have his best interests at heart. He is searching for peace even now even if he doesn't say it, Rains Fall, just as you are. He carries a heavy soul, and he does not open up to many people. But I believe the two of you share a specific kind of weariness. It would do him good to speak with a man of your wisdom."
Rains Fall studied Arthur from across the yard. The Chief possessed an almost supernatural ability to read the spirits of men, and he saw the deep, lingering scars that Arthur carriedz not physical scars, but the heavy, invisible burdens of a life spent running from the law and from himself.
"I will speak with him," Rains Fall nodded slowly, leaving his saddle on the wooden rail.
Caleb stepped back, intentionally removing himself from the equation, and walked toward the administrative house, allowing the quiet, profound dynamic to unfold naturally.
Rains Fall walked slowly across the dusty yard, his boots making almost no sound. He stopped beside Arthur, leaning his forearms against the top rail of the wooden fence, his eyes tracking the massive draft horses in the corral.
Arthur glanced sideways at the Chief, offering a polite but gruff nod. "Chief."
"They are magnificent animals, Mr. Morgan," Rains Fall said quietly, his voice a soothing, rhythmic rumble. "They possess the strength of the earth, yet they allow themselves to be guided by the hands of men. It is a strange, beautiful contradiction."
Arthur let out a low huff of amusement, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his vest pocket. He offered one to the Chief, who politely declined with a shake of his head. Arthur struck a match, the sulfur flaring bright in the fading light.
"Yeah, well. Some animals are just born to pull a plow, I suppose," Arthur murmured, taking a long drag, exhaling the smoke into the cool air. "And some men are just born to swing a hammer. Takes a long time to figure out which one you are, and by the time you do, usually, your back is broken."
Rains Fall looked at Arthur, his dark, mournful eyes seeing right through the outlaw's cynical deflection.
"You do not strike me as a man who was born to swing a hammer, Mr. Morgan," Rains Fall observed gently. "You strike me as a man who was born to be a shield, but was often forced to act as a sword."
Arthur froze. The cigarette halted halfway to his mouth. He turned his head slowly, looking at the old Chief with a mixture of shock and guarded vulnerability. It was a staggeringly accurate assessment of his entire life under Dutch van der Linde's command. He had always wanted to protect the gang, to shield the innocent, but he had been constantly ordered to rob, to kill, and to destroy.
"You see a lot, don't you, old man?" Arthur asked, his voice dropping into a quiet, defensive rasp.
"I see the weight a man carries in his shoulders," Rains Fall replied simply, looking back at the horses. "My son, Eagle Flies... he carries a fire inside him. It consumes him. He believes that violence is the only language the world understands because it is the only language the world has ever spoken to him. But you, Arthur... you carry a different weight. You carry the weight of regret. You have seen the fire, and you know that it only leaves ashes."
Arthur looked down at his calloused, scarred hands. He thought about the men he had beaten for pennies, the widows he had made, the chaos he had sown before Caleb had stepped in and forced the gang to evolve.
"I've done a lot of bad things, Chief," Arthur confessed softly, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "Things I ain't ever gonna be able to wash off. Caleb... he gave me a second chance. He gave all of us a way out of the mud. I'm trying to be a better man. I'm trying to build something good with the time I got left. But sometimes, when I close my eyes, I still see the ghosts."
Rains Fall reached out, placing a weathered, comforting hand on Arthur's arm.
"The ghosts do not haunt us to punish us, Arthur," Rains Fall whispered, his voice carrying the immense, healing wisdom of the mountain. "They haunt us to remind us of the cost of our actions. They are the teachers of the soul. You cannot erase the men you have been, but you can choose the man you will be tomorrow. You helped bring my people to this sanctuary. You stood between us and the guns of that town. That is not the action of a bad man. That is the action of a protector."
Arthur let out a long, shuddering breath, the crushing weight of his own guilt lifting just a fraction of an inch under the Chief's profound absolution. He dropped his cigarette into the dirt, crushing it beneath the heel of his boot.
"Thank you, Rains Fall," Arthur murmured, his voice thick with a genuine, uncharacteristic emotion. "I appreciate you saying that."
"We are all walking the same difficult path, my friend," Rains Fall smiled warmly. "Perhaps, when the days grow longer, you will ride with me along the river. I know many herbs that grow in this valley that make an excellent tea. It calms the mind."
"I'd like that, Chief. I'd like that a lot," Arthur agreed, a small, genuine smile finally touching his weathered face.
While the foundation of a profound friendship was being laid by the corral, Caleb was sitting in the administrative office, finalizing the logistical protocols of his departure. He had called Charles and Eagle Flies into the room.
Resting on the center of the heavy oak desk was a massive, brass fitted mahogany box. It was a state of the art T&T radio transceiver, identical to the one Caleb used in his Saint Denis study, though slightly more ruggedized for the frontier environment.
"This is your lifeline," Caleb explained, flipping the heavy metal toggles on the face of the machine. The internal vacuum tubes immediately began to hum, glowing with a warm, amber light. "The Heartlands are vast, and I cannot be here every single day to manage the operations. You need a direct, instantaneous line of communication to me."
Eagle Flies leaned in, staring at the glowing tubes in sheer fascination. He had seen the massive trains, but this strange, humming box of wire and glass seemed like pure magic.
"How does it work?" Charles asked, recognizing the immense tactical advantage the device provided.
"It transmits electrical frequencies through the atmosphere, bouncing them off the relay towers I have constructed along the rail lines," Caleb explained, keeping the technical jargon to a minimum. He pointed to a heavy, black metal dial on the front. "This dial controls the frequency. I have pre set three channels for you."
Caleb tapped the dial. "Channel One connects directly to Vincenzo's operational desk in Saint Denis. Use this for standard logistical reports. If you need more seed for the agriculture, if there's things breaking down, or if you need the medical doctors to send more supplies, you call Vincenzo. He will have a train loaded and dispatched within twelve hours."
He turned the dial one click to the right.
"Channel Two connects to the Valentine auction yards and the rail depot. Use this to coordinate the movement of the herds. When Eagle Flies and his men are driving many head of cattles and sheeps into town, you call ahead. The yard manager will ensure the pens are empty and the trains are waiting. It will prevent any logistical bottlenecks."
Caleb then turned the dial to the final, marked position. The hum of the machine seemed to deepen.
"Channel Three is a closed, encrypted frequency. It rings directly on the receiver sitting on my private desk in the Saint Denis mansion," Caleb said, his voice dropping into a serious, absolute register. "Nobody answers that channel but me."
Caleb looked directly into Eagle Flies's eyes.
"You use Channel Three if there is an emergency," Caleb stated firmly. "If theres enemies taht tries to enter our borders in force. If the federal government decides to break our agreement and sends marshals onto this land. If your people are in imminent, mortal danger... you turn the dial to three, and you speak into this microphone. If you call me on that channel, Eagle Flies, I will drop whatever I am doing, I will load the train with a hundred armed men, and I will be here before the sun goes down. Do you understand?"
Eagle Flies felt a huge sense of security wash over him. He realize his tribe wasn't just being left alone in the wilderness with a shiny badge, they was being backed by the full might of the Thorne empire.
"I understand, Caleb Thorne," Eagle Flies nodded, his voice thick with respect. "Channel Three is for war."
"Let us hope it gathers dust," Caleb smiled, turning the machine off.
The next morning, the time for departure had finally arrived.
The train had been repositioned at the Valentine station, fully pressurized and waiting to carry the tycoon back to his southern throne.
Caleb stood in the center of the bustling Wapiti settlement. The air was filled with the sounds of hammers repairing fences, women tending to the newly plowed fields, and the distant, rhythmic thundering of hooves as Eagle Flies led his first official security patrol out onto the plains.
Caleb shook hands with Charles, pulling the scout into a firm, brotherly embrace.
"Keep them safe, Charles," Caleb murmured. "And keep yourself safe. Don't let the administrative paperwork dull your edge."
"I won't," Charles smiled, stepping back. "Thank you, Caleb. For everything. I will send you a full report at the end of the month."
Caleb then turned to Rains Fall. The old Chief did not offer a handshake. He stepped forward and placed his hands on Caleb's shoulders once again, bowing his head deeply.
"May the wind always be at your back, Caleb," Rains Fall blessed him softly. "And may your enemies always stumble in the dark."
"I will see you soon, Chief," Caleb promised.
Caleb mounted his black Arabian, flanked by Arthur, Javier, Vincenzo, and the remaining capos. With a final wave to the gathered tribe, the corporate entourage rode out of the valley, leaving the Wapiti to build their new paradise in peace.
The ride back to Valentine was swift. The mud of the streets had partially dried in the morning sun, but the town still carried the grimy, chaotic energy of the frontier.
As Caleb and his men rode up to the wooden platform of the train station, Caleb noticed a familiar figure pacing nervously near the steps of the parlor car.
It was Sheriff Malloy. The lawman was sweating profusely despite the cool air, repeatedly taking his hat off to wipe his balding head, looking like a man who had just swallowed a live grenade.
Caleb pulled the Arabian to a halt, his eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. He dismounted, tossing the reins to Silvio, and walked up the wooden steps toward the Sheriff.
"Sheriff," Caleb greeted, his voice smooth but carrying a dangerous edge. "You look like a man who just lost his life savings at the poker table. Why are you waiting at my train?"
Sheriff Malloy jumped slightly at the sound of Caleb's voice, spinning around, his face pale.
"Mr. Thorne! Thank God you haven't left yet," Sheriff Malloy gasped, hurrying forward, keeping his voice to a frantic whisper. "We have a massive problem, sir. I just received a coded telegraph from the Governor's office in Saint Denis. It's regarding Valentine."
"Calm down, Sheriff, and speak clearly," Caleb ordered, projecting absolute authority to counter the man's panic. "What about Valentine?"
"The federal government, sir," Sheriff Malloy stammered. "The Department of the Interior and the Bureau of Indian Affairs... they are lobbying the state legislature. Because of the massive influx of capital you've injected into this region, Valentine has crossed the population and economic thresholds required for official municipal incorporation."
Caleb's eyes narrowed instantly, his razor sharp mind already calculating the political angles. "They are making Valentine an official incorporated city."
"Yes!" Sheriff Malloy nodded frantically. "But that's not the problem. The problem is that the federal government is using a loophole in the incorporation charter to bypass the local elections. They are planning to appoint a federal Mayor to oversee the town. A bureaucrat from Washington!"
Caleb let out a loud, sharp click of his tongue, a cold, predatory smile touching his lips.
It was retaliation. Commissioner Henry Cass and the Bureau of Indian Affairs hadn't simply rolled over after their humiliating defeat on the radio.
They knew they couldn't put an overseer on Thorne's private ranches and they couldn't touch the Wapiti directly, without causing him to retaliate. So, they decided to do another maneuver.
By installing a federally supported Mayor in Valentine, they could attempt to choke Caleb's supply lines, heavily tax his auction yards, and make life an absolute, bureaucratic nightmare for the Thorne Holding Company in New Hanover. "They think they are clever," Caleb murmured softly, looking out over the muddy streets of the town. "They think they can build a tollbooth on my highway."
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Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 8/10
- Agility: 8/10
- Perception: 9/10
- Stamina: 8/10
- Charm: 8/10
- Luck: 9/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl MAX)
- Rifle (Lvl MAX)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl MAX)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl MAX)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl MAX)
- Sneaking (Lvl MAX)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl MAX)
- Poker (Lvl MAX)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl MAX)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Dead Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Bow (Lvl MAX)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl MAX)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl MAX)
- Crafting (Lvl MAX)
- Persuasion (Lvl MAX)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl MAX)
- Teaching (Lvl MAX)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 100x100x100)
- Acting (Lvl MAX)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Business (Lvl MAX)
- Leadership (Lvl MAX)
Money: 2,772 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 283,392 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 74 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, 1 land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, 1 Ruby, 1 Broken Pirate Sword, 1 Milton's Safety Deposit Key, Proof Of Marlin-Thorne Firearms Co., 10 Dynamites, 1 LeMat, 1 M1899, 1 Carcano, 1 Ownership deed of Doyle's Tavern, & 3 Diamonds
Bank: -