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Wrobel had collapsed to his knees in the yard, shouting curses that needed no translation as they left. The pocket watch burned in Caleb's pocket like a live coal. Sean grinned, patting the stolen horse's neck. "Hell of a payday. Strauss'll owe us after this." Caleb didn't answer. Some debts, he knew, couldn't be measured in dollars.
Emerald Ranch's debts proved simpler. Lilly Millet, the lady who had a fight with her husband, paid her 70 dollars without complaint once Caleb taught her husband a lesson with Sean's help, since he was still wounded.
As for Chick Matthews, surrendered the 60 dollars after Sean "accidentally" discharged his rifle at his horse, and Caleb put his Schofield on his temple before then he tells where he hides his money.
The midday sun beat down on Horseshoe Overlook as Caleb and Sean rode back into camp, the stolen Dutch Warmblood trotting obediently behind them on a lead rope.
The horse's grey coat with white dots on the behind gleamed like polished mahogany in the sunlight, drawing appreciative glances from several gang members as they dismounted.
"Herr Strauss first," Caleb said, tying Morgan to the hitching post. The Hungarian Half-Bred snorted, tossing its head as Sean secured it nearby.
Strauss looked up from his ledger as they approached, his spectacles catching the light. "Ah. Success, I take it?"
Caleb nodded as he dropped the collected cash and valuables onto Strauss's table, the grimy bills from Butch Carson, Lilly Millet's carefully folded notes, Chick Matthews' stained money pouch, and Wrobel's jewelry and money wrapped in a cloth. "All present and accounted for. Except Wrobel. We took his horse for the rest of his balance."
Strauss's thin fingers sorted through the items with practiced efficiency. He paused at the pocket watch, turning it over to examine the Polish engraving. "This is... adequate collateral." Setting it aside, he counted the money twice before nodding. "You left the debtor alive, I presume?"
Sean grinned. "More or less. Fella took a swing at me with a horseshoe, but Caleb here played peacemaker."
Strauss adjusted his glasses. "The horse, where is it?"
"Hitched by Morgan," Caleb said. "Figured Dutch might want first look before we do anything with it."
"Wise." Strauss took out some of the cash and divided it into two small stacks, sliding 25 dollars to each of them. "Your share. The remainder goes to camp funds." He closed the ledger with finality. "I will speak to Dutch about the horse. Dismissed."
Sean pocketed his cut with a flourish. "Pleasure doin' business, Herr Moneybags."
As they walked toward the lockbox near Dutch's tent, Sean nudged Caleb. "Easy money, eh? Even with that bastard's horseshoe souvenir." He rubbed his shoulder dramatically.
Caleb deposited the gang's portion into the strongbox, the metal lid clanging shut. "Could've gone worse. Don't spend it all on whiskey."
Sean theatrically put his hand to his chest. "No promises, mate!" With a laugh, he sauntered off toward the poker table where Javier and Uncle held court.
Alone now, Caleb made his way back to Morgan. The mare whickered softly as he approached, nuzzling his chest. "Missed me, girl?" He pulled an apple and oatcake from his satchel, feeding them to her in slow pieces while brushing her coat with long, even strokes.
"You're real good with her."
Caleb turned to see Jack peeking around a wagon, his wide eyes fixed on Morgan.
"What you doing there Jack, not helping your mother?" Caleb asked.
Jack shuffled his feet. "She's helpin' Miss Grimshaw with the washin'. Can I... can I pet your horse, Caleb? Just for a minute?"
Caleb smiled. "Come on, then. But slow, no sudden moves."
Jack crept forward like a hunter stalking prey, his small hand outstretched. Morgan lowered her head obligingly, letting the boy stroke her muzzle. Her ears twitched contentedly.
"She's softer'n I thought," Jack whispered, awestruck.
"That's 'cause I brush her every day." Caleb hoisted Jack onto the saddle, keeping a steadying hand on his back. "There. Now you're a real cowboy."
Jack's grin could've powered a city. "Can we go huntin' now, Uncle Caleb? Like you promised?"
Caleb took out and checked his pocket watch at, 1:30 PM. Plenty of daylight left. "Tell you what. We'll go today, but just for rabbits or turkeys. And only if your mother says yes."
Jack scrambled down from Morgan with surprising agility and Caleb's help. "I'll ask right now!" He tore across camp, nearly colliding with Charles who walked across the camp with a bag of chicken feed sack on his shoulder.
Caleb chuckled, giving Morgan one last pat. His shoulder ached a bit, the morning's activities had taken their toll, but the thought of disappointing Jack was worse than any physical pain.
By the time he'd refilled his canteen and made sure that his bowstring was okay, Jack came sprinting back, Abigail trailing behind with crossed arms.
"I hear you're takin' my boy into the wilderness, Mr. Thorne," she said, her tone sharper than a Skinner's blade.
Caleb met her gaze squarely. "Just to the area around the camp, maybe the valley below. Hunt some rabbits and maybe turkeys if we're lucky. Have him back by supper, I promise Mrs. Roberts."
Abigail studied him, the bow, the careful way he favored his left side, the earnestness in his voice. Then remembering she also had promised allowing Jack to go out hunting with Caleb previously, she relented.
She sighed. "You get him hurt, I'll skin you myself." She adjusted Jack's hat. "And you listen to Uncle Caleb, you hear? No wanderin' off by yourself."
Jack nodded so vigorously that his hat nearly flew off. "Yes, Momma!"
As Abigail walked away, Jack tugged Caleb's sleeve. "Can we start now Uncle Caleb? I always wanted to ride Morgan."
Caleb considered the eager face looking up at him. "Of course Jack, we can start right away."
They set out minutes later, Jack perched in front of Caleb in the saddle, babbling excitedly about all the animals they might see. The valley was a short ride northwest near Dakota River, far enough to feel like an adventure, close enough that Caleb felt it was safe for Jack.
"First rule of hunting," Caleb said as they dismounted near a stand of birch trees. "Quiet as a church mouse. You scare 'em, you don't eat 'em."
Jack mimed zipping his lips shut.
Caleb strung his bow quietly. His shoulder protested for a bit, but the Pain Nullifier skill dulled it to an almost throb he never felt. "See those clusters of bushes, Jack? Rabbits love them. We'll—"
A rustle in the underbrush cut him off. Caleb raised a finger to his lips. Jack froze, eyes wide.
Slowly, Caleb nocked an arrow. A plump jackrabbit hopped into view, its nose twitching. The bowstring creaked as he drew back—
Thwip.
The arrow found its mark right on the head. The rabbit barely had time to kick before it was over.
Jack's gasp was equal parts horror and awe. "You got him!"
Caleb retrieved the rabbit, showing Jack how to field dress it properly. "Your pa teach you any of this yet?"
Jack shook his head. "Uncle Hosea showed me some near camp, but Pa's always busy."
Something in the boy's tone made Caleb's chest tighten. "Well, today you're my apprentice. Next one's yours to shoot."
They spent the next two hours tracking game, Jack missed three shots before finally bagging a turkey with Caleb's help, of course, his triumphant whoop scaring off every other animal within half a mile. Caleb couldn't bring himself to chastise him, the boy's joy was too infectious.
As the sun dipped toward the trees, they packed their haul, three rabbits and Jack's turkey, into the side of Morgan's saddle.
"You did good today," Caleb said, ruffling Jack's hair. "Next time, we'll work on your aim."
Jack beamed. "Can we go again tomorrow?"
"Not tomorrow. But soon." Caleb lifted him onto Morgan. "Let's get you home before your ma tans my hide."
The ride back was slower, Jack leaning sleepily against Caleb as Morgan picked her way through the twilight. The campfire's glow welcomed them home, Abigail's silhouette stark against the flames as she paced near the hitching posts.
"There you are!" She scooped Jack off the horse before Caleb could dismount. "I was five minutes from sending out a search party for two of you!"
Jack yawned and pointed at his turkey that was stowed to the side of Morgan's saddle. "Look, Momma! I got supper!"
Abigail's fright immediately gone at the pride in her son's voice. She smoothed his hair back, her eyes meeting Caleb's over Jack's head. A silent understanding passed between them, gratitude from her, reassurance from him.
Pearson descended on their game like a vulture when Caleb and Jack gave it to him, praising Jack's turkey with theatrical gusto that caused Jack to giggle.
After that, Caleb watched Abigail disappear into her tent, Jack already chattering excitedly about their hunt. He turned towards Pearson's campfire, the aroma of woodsmoke and simmering stew hanging heavy in the evening air.
Beside the cauldron, the ever present coffee pot gurgled invitingly. He poured himself a mug, the dark liquid steaming in the cool air, and leaned against a nearby wagon wheel, savoring the bitter warmth.
The coffee was bitter on Caleb's tongue as he leaned against Pearson's wagon, watching the camp settle into evening routines. The hunting trip with Jack had gone better than expected, the boy's excitement and Abigail's gratitude made him feel like he had done the right thing, keeping that promise.
"Evening, Caleb."
John Marston's voice cut through his thoughts. The man approached with his characteristic stiff gait, his healed scar wound on his face, and he held his own coffee cup as if it might bite him.
"John." Caleb raised his mug in greeting. "How's the wound?"
John shrugged, touching the healed scat on his face. "Yeah, it's… better. Still aches some, but I reckon I'll be fit enough to ride out again soon. Can't sit around camp forever, feelin' useless."
He then poured some coffee into his mug and took a sip, grimaced, then tossed the dregs into the dirt. "Pearson still can't make decent coffee, I see."
Caleb chuckled. "Tastes like boiled dirt, but it wakes you up."
A beat of silence passed between them. John scuffed his boot against a rock, his eyes darting toward where Abigail was putting Jack to bed near their tent. "So uh... heard you took Jack out huntin' today."
Caleb kept his tone neutral. "That's right," taking another sip of his coffee. "Promised him I would a while back. Got Abigail's permission as well before taking him out." He studied John's face. "Is there a problem?"
"What? No, no." John waved a hand, then rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Just asking. It's just… well, you must have heard around camp, that I ain't exactly been close to the boy, have you? I have mostly kept my distance. Hell, I ain't even sure…"
Then John's jaw worked silently for a moment before he blurted, "You think he's mine, Caleb?"
Caleb's grip tightened slightly on his mug when he heard that. The question hung between them like gun smoke. Then he exhaled slowly.
He'd known this was coming, John's doubts about Jack's paternity were no secret in camp and as someone who had okayed the game, he remembers all the cutscenes concerning this from the game.
But hearing it spoken aloud, with that raw uncertainty, and face to face experiencing it himself, was different.
"I've heard the talk, John," Caleb said quietly, as he saw John looking down on the ground. "The… information that goes around camp. I can understand why you might feel that way."
After that Caleb let that sink in, before continuing, "But I know he is."
John's head snapped up. "How?"
"Look at his eyes. Same shape as Abigail's, but the color?" Caleb pointed at John's own hazel irises. "And that stubborn set to his jaw when he's frustrated? That's all you, Marston."
John opened his mouth, closed it. His fingers twitched toward his holster, a nervous tic Caleb had noticed before. "But Abigail was... you must have heard about it. When she and I met. Coulda been anyone's."
Caleb shook his head. "You really think she'd lie? After all this time?" He leaned in slightly. "I've seen how she looks at you, even when you're being an ass. That ain't the look of a woman who'd trick you."
The campfire popped nearby, sending up a shower of sparks. Somewhere in the darkness, a coyote tipped and owl hooting. John stared at the ground like it held the answers to all his problems. "Everyone else just tells me to shut up and be a father," he muttered. "Like it's that simple."
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Name:Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 6/10
- Agility: 6/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 6/10
- Charm: 5/10
- Luck: 5/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 2)
- Rifle (Lvl 2)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 2)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 1)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 1)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 2)
- Poker (Lvl 1)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 1)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 1)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 1)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 0)
Money: 675 dollars and 61 cents
Bank: 40 dollars, 2 gold bars, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets