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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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He reached out with a weathered, calloused hand, taking a warm biscuit and a slice of ham. He ate slowly, deliberately, savoring the rich, heavy fat and the sharp salt of the meat. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, a quiet, shuddering sigh of absolute relief escaping his chest as the genuine warmth of the food finally began to banish the deep, bone chilling cold that had haunted his people for years.
Caleb watched them eat, his expression calm and respectful. He did not rush them. He drank his coffee in silence, allowing the Wapiti leaders to process the staggering transition they were currently undertaking.
After several long minutes, Rains Fall set his porcelain cup down, the delicate clink of the china sounding incredibly loud over the steady rhythm of the train. The Chief ran his hand over the polished mahogany table, feeling the smooth grain of the wood, before looking up at Caleb.
"I have seen the trains many times, Mr. Thorne," Rains Fall spoke, his deep, resonant voice filling the quiet parlor car. He looked toward the frost covered window, watching the snowy pines blur past. "I have watched them cut through the plains, leaving trails of black smoke and dead buffalo in their wake. They have always been the harbingers of our destruction."
Rains Fall paused, his dark eyes turning inward, touching upon memories that were entirely soaked in blood and sorrow.
"The only time my people have ever ridden within the belly of these machines was at the point of a cavalry bayonet," the Chief continued, his voice thick with a heavy, unyielding grief. "They pushed our elders and our children into wooden cattle cars that smelled of fear and sickness. They locked the heavy iron doors from the outside, and they moved us in the dark, stealing us away from the lands of our fathers, dropping us onto frozen rocks where they hoped we would quietly perish."
Eagle Flies tightened his jaw, his hands curling into tight fists on his lap. The young warrior remembered those forced relocations. He remembered the sound of the weeping in the dark, the humiliating reality of being herded like unwanted livestock.
"But today..." Rains Fall looked around the immaculate parlor car, looking at the velvet, the brass, and the silver plates of food. A complex emotion washed over his weathered face. "Today, we are not in chains. We are sitting in chairs of soft leather. We are drinking sweet water, and we are moving toward a sanctuary we chose to accept. It is a very strange thing, Mr. Thorne, to find comfort in the very machine that was built to erase you."
Charles looked down at his hands, deeply moved by the Chief's words, intimately understanding the jarring whiplash of their new reality. Arthur remained perfectly still, a quiet, respectful witness to a conversation that transcended the simple logistics of a corporate buyout.
Caleb leaned forward, resting his forearms on the mahogany table. He looked directly into Rains Fall's eyes, meeting the Chief's sorrow with a deep understanding.
"The machine has no soul, Chief," Caleb said softly, his voice carrying the calm, absolute certainty of a man who had mastered the modern world. "The train does not hate you. The steel does not carry prejudice. A train is simply a tool of power. For the last century, that tool has been wielded by men who wanted to destroy you. They used it to inflict terror, to enforce their will, and to burn the memory of your subjugation into the minds of your children."
Caleb reached out, gently tapping his index finger against the polished wood of the table.
"But today, the tool belongs to me," Caleb declared, the sheer weight of his empire echoing in his words. "And because it belongs to me, it belongs to you. We cannot erase the past, Rains Fall. I cannot reach back and un break the treaties, and I cannot bring back the dead who were lost in those cattle cars. But what we are doing right now... what we are going to do when we reach the Heartlands... is create a new memory."
Eagle Flies looked up, his dark eyes locking onto Caleb, captivated by the raw, compelling philosophy of the industrialist.
"We are going to build a foundation of security," Caleb continued, his gaze shifting to include the young warrior. "We are going to lay new memories over the old ones. Not to forget them, never to forget them. A man who forgets the fire will only burn his hand a second time. But we will reduce the impact of the pain."
"We will take the memory of the federal cattle car, and we will bury it beneath the memory of this parlor car. We will turn the agony of your past into a remembrance. A lesson to be learned, and a history to be taught to your grandchildren while they sit safely beside a roaring hearth, surrounded by thousands of acres of land that no soldier can ever touch."
Caleb leaned back, taking a slow sip of his coffee.
"You are no longer the victims of the government anymore, my friends," Caleb finalized softly. "You are the survivors of it. You are riding train as a people, and you are holding the reins."
Rains Fall stared at Caleb, a slow, profound realization washing over his features. The rich tycoon was not just offering them a job, he was offering them liberation from the past. He was giving them permission to stop merely surviving the trauma of their history, and to begin actively conquering their future.
The old Chief bowed his head deeply, a gesture of absolute, unbreakable respect.
"Your words are like deep water, Caleb. They heal the cracks in the dry earth," Rains Fall whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "We will build these new memories together. We will teach our children the story of the man who bought the iron horse and turned it into a shield."
Eagle Flies did not speak, but the fierce, self destructive tension that had defined his posture for months finally, permanently shattered. He looked at his father, then at Caleb, and gave a sharp, definitive nod. The young warrior had found his commander.
The train continued its relentless, powerful push toward the east. As the hours passed, the snowy, treacherous peaks of the Grizzlies slowly flattened out, giving way to the sweeping, fertile expanses of the Heartlands. The sky outside the windows transitioned from the brilliant, blinding blue of the high altitude to a softer, warmer, hazy afternoon gold.
As the massive locomotive began its gradual deceleration, the rhythmic clack of the tracks slowing to a heavy, grinding churn, Vincenzo stepped into the parlor car.
"We are two miles out from Valentine, Boss," the underboss reported, his tone shifting into the crisp, tactical efficiency required for the transition. "The capos are securing their gear. The platform will be crowded. It's the height of the afternoon cattle auctions."
Caleb nodded, standing up and reaching for his heavy coat. "Understood. Arthur, Javier, Charles. You step off the train with me and Vincenzo. We establish the perimeter before the Wapiti disembark. Rains Fall, Eagle Flies... gather your people in the passenger cars. Wait for my signal before you open the doors."
"We will be ready," Eagle Flies confirmed, standing up, his hand resting instinctively on the hilt of his hunting knife.
The train let out a deafening, continuous blast of its steam whistle as it rolled into the Valentine rail yard. The brakes screamed, shooting massive plumes of white steam across the muddy, crowded platform.
Valentine was currently operating at peak capacity. The sprawling wooden auction yards were packed with thousands of head of cattle. The streets were choked with mud, heavy transport wagons, and hundreds of local ranchers, farmhands, and transient cowboys.
The arrival of Caleb's private armored train, a massive, gleaming beast of black steel that looked entirely out of place in the rugged frontier town, instantly drew the attention of every man within a half mile radius.
The heavy doors of the parlor car slid open.
Caleb Thorne stepped out onto the wooden platform.
He was flanked instantly by Vincenzo, Silvio, Arthur, and Javier. Behind them, fifteen elite capos poured out of the forward passenger cars, fanning out in a highly coordinated, terrifyingly disciplined wedge formation.
They were dressed in immaculate dark suits, their long overcoats brushing the tops of their polished boots, their hands resting casually but deliberately near the lapels where their weapons were concealed.
The sheer, intimidating presence of the Thorne syndicate instantly silenced the immediate vicinity of the platform. The local farmhands and the station workers took several rapid steps back, giving the rich tycoon and his private army a wide, respectful berth.
Every man in Valentine knew exactly who Caleb was. They remembered the night the kan who stand up fro Valentine had been wiped off the face of the earth, and they knew that this man now legally owned many lands on Valentine and New Hanover now.
"Area secure, Boss," Vincenzo murmured quietly.
Caleb turned and gave a sharp nod to the passenger cars.
The heavy steel doors of the remaining train cars slid open.
Chief Rains Fall stepped out into the afternoon sun, followed closely by Eagle Flies. Behind them, in a slow, steady stream, nearly a hundred men, women, children, and elders of the Wapiti tribe began to disembark onto the platform.
The reaction of Valentine was instantaneous, and it was deeply, violently visceral.
The frontier was a harsh, unforgiving place, completely steeped in decades of brutal racial prejudice, border wars, and deeply ingrained paranoia. To the average rancher or farmhand in New Hanover, a Native American off a reservation was not a refugee, they were considered a hostile, active threat.
A collective, terrified gasp rippled through the crowd. The noise of the auction yard seemed to die away, replaced by the sudden, sharp, terrifying sound of dozens of leather holsters being unsnapped.
"Indians! They're off the reservation!" a panicked, drunken cowboy shouted from the edge of the platform, taking a stumbling step backward.
"Get your guns! They're raiding the station!" another rancher yelled, panic completely overriding his logic as he reached down, drawing a heavy Colt Peacemaker from his belt and thumbing the hammer back.
Across the muddy street, a half dozen farmhands instinctively raised their repeating rifles, aiming them directly at the terrified Wapiti women and children who were huddling closely around Rains Fall.
Eagle Flies roared in fury, stepping in front of his father, reaching for the rifle strapped to his back. The young braves behind him immediately mirrored the action, ready to die defending their families on the wooden planks of the station.
"Hold your fire!" Charles bellowed, stepping directly into the line of sight, his arms raised wide.
But the panicked locals weren't listening to Charles. The situation was a fraction of a second away from becoming an absolute, bloody massacre.
Caleb did not shout. He did not draw a weapon. He didn't even flinch at the sight of the raised guns.
Instead, he stepped directly off the wooden platform, planting his polished boots deep into the freezing mud of the Valentine street, placing his own body squarely between the guns of the locals and the Wapiti tribe.
He engaged his Past Life Memory and projected his voice with the crushing weight of a rich tycoon addressing them the common folks.
"Put your weapons down," Caleb commanded.
His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the panic like a physical shockwave. It possessed a cold, vibrating resonance that forced every man holding a gun to instinctively hesitate.
The rancher holding the Colt Peacemaker blinked, his hands shaking, suddenly realizing exactly who he was pointing his weapon at. He was aiming directly at the chest of Caleb.
"M-Mr. Thorne..." the rancher stammered, lowering the barrel of the revolver by an inch. "Sir, step aside. Those are hostile natives. They've breached the federal borders. We have to—"
"You will do absolutely nothing," Caleb interrupted, his eyes locking onto the rancher with a dead, soulless intensity that promised dead if doesn't followed. "You will lower your weapons. You will uncock your hammers. And you will listen to me very carefully."
Caleb swept his gaze across the crowd of stunned, terrified locals.
"These people are not a raiding party. They are not hostiles. They are my people," Caleb declared, his voice ringing across the muddy street, echoing off the wooden facades of the buildings. "They are fully contracted, legally bonded employees of the Thorne Holding Company. I have personally relocated them to this valley. They are under my direct protection."
The crowd stared at him in profound disbelief. The idea of the rich tycoon claiming an entire Native American tribe as his own personal workforce was utterly incomprehensible to their frontier minds.
"I own the ranches you work on," Caleb continued relentlessly, weaponizing his massive capital to crush their prejudice. "I own the auction yards where you sell your beef. I own the bank that holds the mortgages on your homes. If any man in this town raises a hand against a member of the Wapiti tribe... if any man even speaks a word of disrespect toward the people I have brought here to manage my empire... I will not just kill you. I will legally strip you of everything you own. I will salt the earth you stand on, and I will erase your name from this valley."
Caleb stepped closer to the rancher holding the Peacemaker.
"If you point that gun at my people again," Caleb whispered, his voice dripping with venom, "you are pointing it at me. And I promise you, I will not miss. Put the gun away."
The rancher swallowed hard, his face turning a sickly shade of gray. He looked at the fifteen mafia enforcers standing behind Caleb, their shotguns leveled, their faces devoid of mercy. He looked at Arthur Morgan, who was staring at him with the cold, dead eyes of a legendary gunslinger.
The rancher carefully, slowly decocked the hammer of his revolver and slid it back into his holster. He took a terrified step backward, raising his hands in surrender.
Across the street, the farmhands lowered their repeating rifles, completely breaking under the immense psychological and economic pressure Caleb exerted.
"Sheriff Malloy!" Caleb barked, not breaking his gaze from the crowd.
From the distance, Sheriff Malloy came jogging through the mud, looking incredibly nervous but eager to prove his worth to his new corporate master.
"Mr. Thorne! Everything is under control, sir!" Malloy shouted, waving his hands at the remaining gawkers. "You heard the man! Clear the street! These folks are employees of the Thorne Holding Company! Anyone looking for trouble will spend the rest of the year in my cells! Break it up!"
The crowd, thoroughly intimidated and utterly cowed by the sheer authority of Caleb, began to quickly disperse, muttering amongst themselves but keeping their heads down. The violent tension evaporated, leaving only the cold wind of the Heartlands in its wake.
On the platform, Rains Fall and Eagle Flies watched the exchange in absolute awe.
They had witnessed a miracle. They had just seen a white man, possessing unimaginable power, step between them and the guns of his own people. Caleb had not pleaded for their lives, he had demanded their safety by shielding them with his own invulnerable reputation. In a matter of seconds, Caleb Thorne had proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that his fortress was real.
Caleb turned back to the platform, the terrifying warlord vanishing, replaced once again by the calm logistical architect.
"Vincenzo," Caleb ordered smoothly. "Bring up the carriages for the women and children. Arthur, Javier, help Eagle Flies unload the horses from the freight cars. We do not linger in this town. We move directly to the central ranch."
The logistics moved with flawless precision.
Six massive, rented transport carriages, padded with heavy blankets, were brought around to the rear of the station. The Wapiti women, elders, and children were quickly and safely loaded inside. Meanwhile, the young braves worked with the capos to lower the heavy wooden ramps of the freight cars, leading the eighty hardy mustangs out onto the solid ground of the Heartlands.
Eagle Flies swung up onto his painted mustang, slinging his repeating rifle over his shoulder. He looked down at Caleb, his dark eyes burning with an absolute, unshakeable loyalty. He didn't say a word, but the slight nod he gave the billionaire spoke volumes. Eagle Flies would die for this man.
With Caleb riding his black Arabian at the head of the column, the massive, unprecedented procession moved out of Valentine.
They left the mud and the suffocating prejudice of the town behind, turning south toward the sprawling, fertile expanse of the Heartlands. The late afternoon sun cast long, beautiful shadows across the rolling green hills, a stark, vibrant contrast to the frozen, dead rock they had left in Ambarino.
The ride took an hour. As they crested a large, sweeping ridge, the central hub of Caleb's newly acquired agricultural empire came into view.
It was the former Vance ranch, but it had already been utterly transformed.
The property was staggering in its scale. Thousands of acres of prime grazing land stretched out as far as the eye could see, bordered by the rushing, crystal-clear waters of the Dakota River. The original, modest farmhouse had been entirely renovated into a massive administrative headquarters. But the true miracle lay in the valley below.
Over the past week, utilizing an army of contracted carpenters from Saint Denis funded entirely by Thorne capital, a completely new settlement had been constructed.
Two dozen large, heavily insulated wooden cabins had been built in a wide, sweeping arc near the riverbank. They were not crude shacks. They possessed solid stone chimneys, heavy glass windows, and reinforced shingled roofs.
Behind the cabins sat three massive, newly constructed wooden barns, currently empty, waiting for the horses. The settlement was completely self contained, surrounded by miles of sturdy timber fencing.
It was a sanctuary.
As the carriages rolled down into the valley and the braves rode their mustangs past the pristine cabins, a profound, awestruck silence fell over the Wapiti. The women stepped down from the carriages, walking slowly toward the houses, running their hands over the solid, unyielding wood. They looked through the glass windows, seeing the heavy cast iron stoves sitting in the center of the rooms, waiting to be lit.
Rains Fall dismounted his horse, his boots touching the soft, fertile soil of the Heartlands. He looked at the rushing river, he looked at the sprawling, infinite grass, and he looked at the warm, permanent homes that had been built exclusively for his people.
The old Chief dropped to his knees in the grass. He placed his hands flat against the earth, bowing his head, and began to weep. They were not tears of sorrow. They were the overwhelming tears of a man who had carried the agonizing burden of his people's slow extinction for ten years, only to have the weight completely, miraculously lifted from his shoulders. Charles walked up beside Rains Fall, placing a gentle, supporting hand on the old man's shoulder, his own eyes shining with unshed tears.
...
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: -