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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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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.
Caleb gave them a moment of privacy. He stood near the administrative house with Arthur and Vincenzo, watching the tribe slowly fan out, claiming their cabins, their voices rising in a beautiful, chaotic symphony of joy and disbelief. The children, no longer shivering, began to run through the tall grass, their laughter echoing across the valley.
When the initial wave of overwhelming emotion had settled, Caleb invited Rains Fall, Eagle Flies, and Charles into the massive administrative headquarters.
They gathered around a long, heavy oak table in the center of the main room. The room was warm, well lit by modern gas lamps, and the table was scattered with massive, detailed topographical maps of the New Hanover territory.
Caleb did not sit at the head of the table. He stood beside it, treating the Wapiti leaders as absolute equals in the coming endeavor.
"This land is beautiful, Caleb," Rains Fall said softly, taking his seat. He looked exhausted, but it was a peaceful and deep content exhaustion. "My people will sleep warmly tonight. For this, my bloodline is forever in your debt."
"There are no debts between us, Chief. Only a partnership," Caleb replied smoothly, pulling a leather bound ledger toward him. "You have your sanctuary. Now, we must organize the things of how we sustain it. The Thorne Holding Company has acquired a monopoly over the beef supply in this state, but to maintain it, we require absolute, flawless execution on the ground."
Caleb unrolled a massive map of the Heartlands, pointing to the sprawling green territories.
"I rely on your expertise to structure the labor, Rains Fall. I will not presume to tell your people how to divide their work," Caleb explained respectfully. "But here are the primary objectives. The men of the tribe, the hunters, the riders, and the young bravesz will be split into two divisions. The first division will be responsible for managing the herds. We will be moving tens of thousands of head of cattle across these plains. They must be protected, driven, and nurtured. Your men possess a mastery of livestock that no cowboy can match. They will be the shepherds of the ranches."
"They will manage the herds," Rains Fall nodded in agreement. "They understand the animals. It is good, honest work that honors the land."
Eagle Flies looked stunned. In a single stroke, Caleb had elevated the poorest, most destitute people on the continent into the wealthiest working class demographic in the territory.
"It is a fortune, Charles," Caleb agreed softly, closing the ledger. "But it is a fortune that buys me loyalty, productivity, and the peace of mind knowing that my empire is being guarded by men who have everything to lose."
Caleb looked at Rains Fall. The old Chief was staring at the rich tycoon with an expression bordering on reverence.
"You will never starve again, Chief," Caleb vowed, his voice thick with genuine emotion. "Your people will have money in their pockets. They will have warm beds. They will buy clothes from the catalogs, they will buy fine foods from the markets, and they will walk the streets of this state not as broken refugees, but as powerful and untouchable citizens of my syndicate."
Rains Fall stood up slowly from the heavy oak table. He did not speak. He walked around the edge of the map, stopping directly in front of Caleb.
The Chief reached out, placing both of his hands firmly on Caleb's shoulders.
"The Great Spirit moves in mysterious ways, Caleb Thorne," Rains Fall whispered, his deep voice trembling with the profound weight of his gratitude. "He sent a man of steel and gold to save a people of earth and sky. We will honor this partnership until the rivers run dry."
Caleb reached up, gripping the Chief's forearm. "And I will honor it until the mountains fall."
The meeting concluded, the leaders dispersing to their respective duties. Eagle Flies immediately went to gather his braves, eager to begin organizing the security patrols, while Rains Fall and Charles walked out to coordinate the housing assignments with the women and elders.
Caleb walked out onto the porch of the administrative building, leaning against the wooden railing. The sun had finally set, casting the Heartlands in a deep, peaceful twilight. Below him, the valley was coming alive. Smoke was rising steadily from the stone chimneys of the insulated cabins. The warm, yellow glow of lanterns illuminated the windows.
He had done it. He had taken one of the darkest, most tragic inevitabilities of the nineteenth century and completely rewritten it using the beautiful machinery of the twentieth.
Arthur walked out onto the porch, holding two glasses of Kentucky bourbon. He handed one to Caleb, leaning against the railing beside him.
They stood in silence for a long time, sipping the smooth, burning amber liquid, listening to the distant, joyful sound of Wapiti children laughing in the dark.
"It's a good thing we did today, Caleb," Arthur murmured, his voice thick with a profound, uncharacteristic peace. "Maybe the best thing we've ever done."
"It is a good thing, Arthur," Caleb smiled, raising his glass in a silent toast to the dark sky. "Now... we just have to protect it."
The cold night air of the Heartlands settled over the valley, carrying the crisp scent of pine and distant woodsmoke. Caleb stood leaning against the heavy wooden railing of the porch, the glass of Kentucky bourbon warming his hand, the burning amber liquid providing a sharp, pleasant contrast to the chill.
Beside him, Arthur was uncharacteristically quiet, his gaze fixed on the dark horizon where the Dakota River wound its way through the territory.
"It is a good thing, Arthur," Caleb smiled, raising his glass in a silent toast to the dark sky. "Now... we just have to protect it."
Arthur didn't immediately respond. He took a long, slow sip of his bourbon, the ice clinking softly against the glass. He shifted his weight, his heavy boots creaking on the wooden floorboards.
For a man who had spent his entire life living on the razor's edge of violence, comfortable in the chaos of a gunfight, Arthur looked strangely unsettled. He rubbed the back of his neck, his thick fingers tracing the collar of his coat, before he finally let out a low, gruff sigh.
"I've been thinking, Caleb," Arthur began, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that barely carried over the sound of the wind. "About the future. About all this... building you're doing. The hospitals, the ranches, the towns. It makes a man realize that maybe the world ain't just about surviving the next day. Maybe it's about actually living in it."
Caleb turned his head slightly, studying his oldest friend. He could sense the heavy weight of the words Arthur was struggling to form. "You've always lived in it, Arthur. Just... on the rougher edges."
"Yeah, well, the edges are getting filed down," Arthur chuckled softly, though there was a profound sincerity in his eyes. He looked down at his glass, swirling the amber liquid. "When we get back to Saint Denis... I'm going to do it. Mary and I, we've been engaged long enough. We've made the promises. I've bought the ring. I'm tired of waiting for the sky to fall. We're getting married."
Caleb, who had just taken a sip of his bourbon, suddenly coughed, the sharp liquor catching in his throat in a rare moment of unguarded surprise. He pounded his chest once, clearing his lungs, before letting out a bright, unrestrained laugh that echoed off the wooden beams of the porch.
"Married," Caleb repeated, a massive, genuine smile breaking across his face. He turned fully toward Arthur, clapping a hand hard on the older outlaw's shoulder. "Arthur Morgan, a married man. I'll be damned. That is magnificent news, my friend. Absolutely magnificent. It's about damn time you made an honest woman out of Mary Linton."
Arthur grunted, a faint, embarrassed flush creeping up his neck, visible even in the dim light of the lanterns. "Yeah, well. Don't go making a big fuss over it. I don't want no grand society ball with a thousand politicians staring at me while I try to figure out which fork to use. Just... a quiet thing. Just the family."
"You will have exactly the wedding you want, Arthur. But I absolutely insist on covering the expenses, and I will be standing right there beside you," Caleb promised, his voice thick with a deep, fraternal pride.
"I appreciate that, Caleb. I really do," Arthur said softly, clinking his glass against Caleb's.
Before they could drink, the heavy wooden screen door of the administrative building creaked open. Charles Smith stepped out onto the porch, bringing a sudden rush of warmth from the interior. He had shed his heavy winter coat, wearing a simple, comfortable linen shirt, and he held a brown glass bottle of cold beer in his hand. He looked between Caleb and Arthur, noticing the broad smiles on both their faces.
"Am I interrupting something?" Charles asked, his voice calm, leaning against the wooden post of the porch.
"Just Arthur finally deciding to act like a civilized man," Caleb teased, earning another low grunt from the gunslinger. "But there is always room for you on this porch, Charles."
Charles took a slow pull from his beer, looking out over the valley. Down below, the Wapiti settlement was quieting down. The chaotic joy of their arrival had settled into an exhausted peace. The only sounds were the rushing of the river and the distant, rhythmic nickering of the horses in the newly built stables.
Charles lowered his bottle, turning his dark, perceptive eyes toward Caleb.
"I didn't get a chance to truly say it earlier, with all the logistics and the crowds," Charles began, his voice carrying a deep, resonant gravity. "But I want to thank you, Caleb. Not just for the money, or the trains, or the houses. I want to thank you for actually seeing this through to the end. I've known a lot of powerful men who make grand promises when it suits them, and vanish the moment the ink dries. You put yourself between my people and the guns of this town today. You didn't have to do that."
Charles raised his beer bottle, offering a genuine, heartfelt salute. "To the man who brought the water."
Caleb smiled, but he deflected the praise with a smooth, self deprecating shake of his head. He clinked his bourbon glass against Charles's bottle.
"I accept the toast, Charles, but do not paint me with the brush of a saint," Caleb replied, his tone shifting into a thoughtful, grounded honesty. "I did this because you are my friend, and when a friend asks for help, I answer the call. That is the foundation of who we are. But you and I both know the reality of the Thorne Holding Company. I went to such extraordinary lengths because there are massive corporate benefits to this arrangement."
Arthur snorted softly, taking a sip of his drink. "Always the businessman, ain't ya?"
"Always," Caleb agreed, looking back out over the valley. "If I was acting purely out of charity, the federal government would have crushed me. The Bureau of Indian Affairs would have seen weakness, and they would have bled me dry in the courts. I had to approach this as a ruthless acquisition. I needed a loyal, highly skilled, entirely self sufficient workforce to manage a monopoly that spans half the state. Your people needed a sanctuary. The opportunity was perfect."
"You don't have to justify it to me, Caleb," Charles said quietly. "A man who does a good thing for a pragmatic reason is infinitely better than a man who does nothing for a righteous one. You didn't act like a white savior demanding our eternal worship. You offered a contract. You offered respect. That is why Rains Fall trusted you. Because you didn't lie to him about what you were."
"I try never to lie to the people I respect," Caleb said softly. "The Heartlands are yours now, Charles. The transition will be difficult. There will be friction with the locals. There will be men in Valentine who will try to test our borders. But as long as Eagle Flies holds the line, and you keep the bridge intact between the old ways and the new... this valley will stand."
They stood together for another hour, three men from entirely different worlds, bound together by a shared, unbreakable loyalty, watching the stars wheel slowly over the vast, open expanse of New Hanover.
Eventually, the exhaustion of the grueling, multi day journey from Saint Denis to Ambarino and back caught up with them. They retired to the administrative house, where Caleb had requisitioned several warm, well furnished guest rooms on the second floor.
Caleb fell asleep almost the moment his head hit the feather pillow, his active mind finally powering down, satisfied with the monumental structural shift he had achieved in the territory.
The next morning broke with a brilliant, blinding clarity. The sun crested the eastern ridges of the Heartlands, painting the endless sea of green grass in vibrant, golden hues. The air was crisp and cold, but it lacked the biting, lethal edge of the mountain blizzards.
Caleb was awake before the sun. He dressed in a rugged but tailored set of riding clothes, dark trousers, a heavy canvas vest over a white shirt, and his polished leather boots. When he walked downstairs, the smell of fresh coffee and frying bacon was already wafting from the massive sized kitchen at the rear of the administrative building.
The Wapiti tribe was already awake and moving. They were a people who lived by the rhythms of the sun, and the joy of waking up in a warm bed, surrounded by solid walls, had energized the entire camp.
After a hearty breakfast, Caleb gathered his command team. Charles, Rains Fall, and Eagle Flies met him on the wide front porch. They were joined by Vincenzo, Silvio, a dozen capos, and nearly forty men and women of the tribe who had stepped forward to take on the immediate administrative and agricultural roles.
"Today, we define the borders of your new world," Caleb announced, looking over the gathered crowd. He projected his voice so every member of the workforce could hear him clearly. "We are going to tour the immediate infrastructure of the primary ranch. Then, we will ride out to the other properties I have acquired. You must understand the scale of the land you are now managing."
Caleb led the procession off the porch and walked them down into the valley, beginning the grand tour.
They started at the newly constructed barns. They were massive, cathedral like structures of heavy timber, smelling strongly of fresh pine and sweet hay.
"These three barns are the primary equestrian hubs," Caleb explained, gesturing to the long rows of pristine, empty stalls. "Eagle Flies, your security forces will stable their mounts here. We have already stockpiled enough high grade feed and oats to last through the hardest winter. The tack rooms are fully stocked with modern leather saddles, grooming supplies, and medical kits for the animals."
"The mustangs you brought from the mountains are tough, but they are thin. We will feed them, strengthen them, and eventually, we will begin a breeding program with the heavier draft horses we use in Lemoyne to create a hybrid mount, something with the stamina of a mountain horse and the sheer physical power of a warhorse."
Eagle Flies walked down the center aisle of the barn, running his hands over the smooth, sanded wood of the stall doors. The young warrior's eyes were wide with appreciation. In the mountains, their horses had been forced to sleep in the freezing mud, huddled together for warmth. Here, they were treated like royalty.
"My riders will maintain this place with great care," Eagle Flies promised, turning back to Caleb.
"I know they will," Caleb nodded. He turned to the older women of the tribe, gesturing toward the wide, flat expanse of fertile soil banking the Dakota River. "That entire stretch of riverfront is dedicated to agriculture. You will not be growing crops for a corporate ledger; you will be growing them to sustain this valley. Corn, squash, beans, root vegetables. My supply wagons will bring you whatever seeds you require. The river provides a constant, fresh water source. By the time the summer harvest arrives, you will have cellars overflowing with food."
The women murmured excitedly among themselves, pointing at the rich, dark soil. For years, they had tried to coax life out of the frozen, unforgiving rocks of Ambarino. To be handed prime, irrigated farmland was a gift beyond measure.
For the next two hours, Caleb walked them through the grain silos, the administrative ledgers, the blacksmithing forge, and the medical clinic that was currently being stocked by two young doctors that Caleb had recruited from Saint Denis that needed place to work in.
When the tour of the central hub was complete, Caleb signaled to Vincenzo.
"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.
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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: -