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Arthur, never one for niceties when business needed doing, cleared his throat with a grunt. A short, rough sound meant to interrupt politely or as politely as Arthur ever managed. Dutch looked up, lowering the well worn book in his hands. Molly, on his knees, turned with a slight frown before recognizing the two men. She smiled briefly, gave Dutch's shoulder a soft pat, and stood up, smoothing her skirt as she stepped aside.
"Well, well," Dutch said, folding his hands together and rising with practiced elegance. "Good evening, gentlemen. I see the two of you have finally returned from your little expedition after being gone since morning. What can I do for you?"
Arthur stepped forward, lifting his saddlebag and setting it down in front of Dutch with a muted thud. Caleb followed suit, placing his beside it. The weight of the loot was evident in the heavy sound and the way both men straightened their backs afterward.
"Came to report on that bank wagon lead we looked into back in Valentine's a couple of days ago," Arthur said plainly. "We followed it. Hit it clean. Got results."
Dutch raised his brows in interest. "Is that so?"
"It is," Arthur said. "You're lookin' at it."
He motioned toward the bags, and for a moment Dutch said nothing. Then, a chuckle rumbled up from his chest, low, pleased, and surprised in equal measure. He stepped forward and clapped both men on the shoulder.
"Well now! That's what I like to hear." Dutch clapped Arthur on the shoulder, then did the same to Caleb. "You boys never disappoint, do you? Fine work, boys. Fine work indeed."
He then crouched, tugged open the flap of one bag, and peered inside. The gleam of folded notes, small sacks of trinkets, and the glint of precious metal caught the low lantern light.
"How much are we talking here?"
Arthur counted it off. "After mine and Caleb cuts, the Gang gets 700 dollars in cash, six gold nuggets, value's about 150, give or take. Jewelry in them sacks is worth another 150, more if Hosea fences it right. And we have some bank bonds and bearer bonds, not sure what they're worth. Figured you and Hosea would know better."
Dutch took the bonds, examining them with a practiced eye before tucking them into his coat pocket. "Ah, these are the kinds of things that need the right buyer. But with the right touch…" He trailed off, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
Then he exhaled, satisfaction evident in his voice. He stood again, a satisfied smile on his face as he looked between them.
"If we can keep up hauls like this, boys… we might just start seeing our way outta here. Keep at it, and once things cool down over in Blackwater… we take back what's ours. Then we vanish. Somewhere warm. Somewhere free."
His voice dropped into that visionary cadence he always used, the one that stirred hope and dreams even in the most jaded of hearts.
"A place where we ain't hunted like animals. Where we ain't beggin' for scraps at the table of a civilization that's already condemned us."
Caleb exchanged a glance with Arthur. Caleb could see that Arthur wanted to believe but doubt had crept in on him. He wanted to trust that the life Dutch talked about wasn't just smoke and mirrors.
Dutch at this time turned toward the ledger that sat near his tent, pulled out a pen, and began scribbling down the earnings.
"Alright," Arthur said, stretching his arms. "We'll leave you to your… reading." He shot a glance at Molly, who rolled her eyes but said nothing.
Dutch chuckled. "Go on, then. You boys get some rest. You've earned it. I'll talk to Hosea about these bonds in the morning. And Caleb?"
Caleb looked up.
Dutch grinned. "You're turnin' into a damn fine outlaw. I was right to bring you into our family."
Caleb dipped his head in thanks, then turned as Dutch returned to his books. Molly slipped back into the tent a moment later, her soft voice joining Dutch's once more in the low murmur of pages turning.
The camp was alive with activity. Sean and Karen were by the fire, the former already deep into a bottle of whiskey, the latter laughing at something he'd slurred. Javier's guitar had shifted to a livelier tune, and even Uncle was awake, though he was slumped against a log, half conscious.
Pearson was stirring his stew pot over the fire, the smell of stew thick in the air. He glanced up as Arthur and Caleb approached. "Ah! The prodigal sons return! You boys hungry? Got some fine rabbit stew, best you'll taste this side of the country!"
Arthur grimaced. "I'll pass, Pearson. Some time ago when I ate your 'fine stew' you said, I was pissing out my guts for two days."
Pearson looked offended. "That was one time, Mr. Morgan! And it wasn't my fault the meat was—"
Caleb held up a hand, cutting him off. "We ate already, Pearson. But thanks for the offer."
They moved past him, heading toward their respective bedrolls. But before they could settle in, a voice called out.
"Arthur! Caleb! Over here!"
It was Hosea, seated at a small table with a deck of cards laid out in front of him. Charles and Lenny sat across from him, their expressions a mix of amusement and concentration.
Arthur groaned. "Hosea, I ain't in the mood to lose my money tonight."
Hosea grinned. "Who said anything about losing? Maybe tonight's your lucky night."
Caleb smirked. "I'll sit in for a hand or two."
Arthur sighed but followed, pulling up a chair. "Fine. But if you cheat, Hosea, I'm tellin' Dutch."
Hosea placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. "Me? Cheat? Arthur, I'm hurt."
Lenny snorted into his drink, and Charles just shook his head, a rare smile tugging at his lips.
The game started slow, the conversation flowing as easily as the whiskey. Stories were traded, some exaggerated, some painfully true. Caleb held his own, his Poker (Lvl 2) skill giving him an edge and even a small sum of 6 dollars, but Hosea was still the master.
After a few rounds, Arthur leaned back, rubbing his eyes. "Alright, that's enough for me. I'm turnin' in."
Caleb nodded, tossing his cards down. "Same. We've had a long day."
Hosea gathered the deck, his expression turning serious for a moment. "Looks like Dutch seemed pleased with your haul. That's good. We need more wins like that. Especially at times like this."
Arthur hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Let's just hope luck stays on our side."
As they walked away, Caleb felt the weight of the day finally settling into his bones. The adrenaline had faded, leaving behind exhaustion and the dull ache of saddle sore muscles.
He reached for his bedroll, unstrapping his gun belt and setting it beside him. The camp's noises were beginning to quiet, Sean had passed out, Karen was dragging him toward his tent, and even Uncle's snoring had leveled out.
Before lying down, Caleb checked his belongings, ensuring his share of the money was secure. Then, with a final glance at the stars above, he closed his eyes.
The morning sun cast long shadows across Horseshoe Overlook as Caleb stirred from his bedroll. The camp was still quiet, most of the gang was either asleep or nursing hangovers from the previous night's revelry.
He stretched, rolling his shoulders to work out the stiffness from sleeping on the ground, then grabbed a tin cup and made his way toward the water barrel behind Pearson's wagon.
He dipped the tin cup into the cold water and splashed it on his face, shivering slightly as it chased the last remnants of sleep from his body. He scrubbed at the grime and dust with a rough cloth, working over his arms and neck until he felt refreshed.
After drying off, Caleb went back to his tent, slipped his gun belt back around his waist with a practiced motion, and fastened the buckle. The familiar weight of his sidearm was comforting, like an old friend resting against his hip.
He decided it was time to head back into Valentine's.
He hadn't shown his face in town for a couple of days, and keeping up appearances as the town's local hero and bounty hunter was important. If he stayed away too long, people might start asking questions.
After strapping on his gun belt, Caleb walked over to where Morgan, his loyal mare, was hitched beside Arthur's horse. "Morning, girl," he murmured, giving her a gentle rub on the neck. "Got a ride ahead of us, so let's make sure everything's in order."
He then noticed the 4 Carbine Repeaters still strapped to the saddles from yesterday's heist. Left there after the job yesterday, in the rush to report to Dutch.
With a grunt, he untied them and carried them over to the gang's gun and ammo wagon, a repurposed supply cart that also served as the base for Arthur's tent. He stacked the rifles neatly, making sure they were out of sight.
Then he remembered the 6 Cattleman revolvers. The same saddlebag he and Arthur had dropped off with Dutch last night after reporting in.
Turning on his heel, Caleb made his way across camp toward Dutch's tent. As he approached, he noted that the area was quiet. Dutch was nowhere to be seen, but Molly O'Shea sat just outside, lazily smoking a cigarette as she watched the smoke curl up toward the pale sky.
Caleb cleared his throat. "Morning, Miss O'Shea. Sorry to interrupt, but I want to take my saddlebag."
Molly turned, recognizing him. A half smile touched her lips. "Good morning, Caleb. You're not interrupting anything. Dutch left your bags inside, said he took the gang cut out and locked it in his little 'secret chest'."
She pointed toward the side of Dutch's bed where both saddlebags lay against it. "Yours and Arthur's should still be right where he set them down there."
"Thank you kindly," Caleb said, nodding with genuine appreciation.
He stepped inside Dutch's tent. It smelled faintly of whiskey, old leather, and pine. Sure enough, both saddle bags lay near Dutch's cot, neatly placed. Caleb grabbed them both, slinging Arthur's over one shoulder and his own over the other.
On the way back, he stopped by Arthur's bedroll. The older man was still asleep, one arm slung over his eyes to block the sunlight, snoring softly.
"Lazy bastard," Caleb muttered with a grin, gently lowering Arthur's bag beside him.
He opened his own saddlebag and took out the six Cattleman revolvers, then stored them together in the gun and ammo wagon.
With everything in its place, he returned to Morgan and began inspecting her saddle. He checked the straps for fraying, adjusted the cinch, and tested the stirrups. Once satisfied, he fished a juicy apple from the small bag of treats he kept for her and held it out.
"There you go," he said, watching her crunch into it eagerly. He patted her neck. "Alright, girl. Let's go see what trouble Valentine's got for us today."
Mounting up, he guided her toward the trail leading to Valentine.
When they reached the outskirts of Valentine's, however, it was clear something was going on.
A crowd had gathered around the gallows behind the hotel, voices raised in anger and anticipation. Caleb slowed Morgan to a walk and guided her toward the edge of the gathering, dismounting and leading her by the reins.
He could see Sheriff Malloy standing on the platform, flanked by two deputies. And in the center stood a man Caleb instantly recognized, Edmund Lowry Jr.
The man's gaunt face was eerily calm as the noose was fitted around his neck. His hands were bound, his clothes dirty from weeks in a cell, but his smile was unsettling. Like he was enjoying this.
Sheriff Malloy raised a hand, and the crowd began to quiet. He spoke with authority and passion, his voice carrying over the square.
"People of Valentine!" he said. "Today, we deliver justice! This man, Edmund Lowry Jr., stands before you not as a victim, but as a killer. A kidnapper. A man who preyed on the innocent and the defenseless!" Shouts of agreement rose from the crowd — "Hang him!" — "Monster!" — "He deserves worse!"
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 6/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 5/10
- Luck: 6/10
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 2)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 3)
- Poker (Lvl 2)
- 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)
- Crafting (Lv1)
- Persuasion (Lvl 2)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
Money: 1262 dollars and 43 cents and 2 gold nuggets
Bank: 320 dollars, 4 gold bars, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets