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...
It was peaceful. It was almost… normal. Caleb took a deep breath and let it out slow. Tomorrow, he'd ride back to camp to speak with Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea. He'd explain the deputy situation and make sure there were no misunderstandings.
He finished his meal and leaned back against the bench, tipping his hat over his eyes as the sun reach the top as it let out its bright hot light.
He stood up from the bench, feeling his stomach full from the sandwich he'd just made, bread, cheese, and a bit of salted meat. Simple, but satisfying. As the food settled and he patted his stomach absently, a thought struck him, quick and clear like a sudden thunderclap on a clear day.
Fast food.
His eyes widened slightly as the idea rooted itself in his mind like a spark catching dry kindling. Not a bakery, not a sit down place. That was too much work, too much waiting, and too much cost upfront.
What if he didn't need ovens, or delicate baking techniques? What if he could build something people could walk up to, hand over a bit of their money, and leave with a hot meal after stating for a short amount of time?
Burgers. Hot dogs. Fries.
The words buzzed in his head like some forgotten magic chant as his Past Life Memory skill helps him. In this time period, those things didn't exist yet, not in the form he remembered from his past life.
Sandwiches existed, sure. Some sausages too. But a grilled beef patty between two warm toasted buns? A grilled sausage on a soft roll with ketchup and some onions? Chopped potatoes deep fried till golden crisp? That… that was still beyond the horizon.
But he could bring it here. He should bring it here.
He chuckled, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "I can't believe this… I've been racking my brain for a full single day before, thinking of something revolutionary, and here it is, frickin' burgers and fries."
They were easy. Ingredients were everywhere. Potatoes? Dirt cheap. Meat? Every butcher had it. Bread rolls? Either buy 'em or make 'em. The tools? All he needed was a good grill and some deep cooking pots for frying. A stand could come later, but he could start testing the recipes tonight.
He reached into his coat and checked his pocket watch. 12:10 PM. He had ample amount of time.
As for the funds? Well he had large amount of money in hand.
With a determined breath, Caleb pushed off the bench and strode with purpose toward the blacksmith, who was just beside the stable. He could hear the clanging of hammer on iron rang steadily as he approached the blacksmith.
The burly smith Fergus looked up from his anvil as Caleb entered, wiping soot from his brow.
"Afternoon mister," Fergus greeted, voice gruff but not unfriendly.
"Afternoon," Caleb replied. "Say… do you sell some grills?"
"Some. What're you lookin' for?"
"The small one, easy to bring for traveling. Iron, but sturdy. Can cook meat on it over a fire."
The blacksmith's eyebrows rose with interest. "Don't get asked for those often. Got a few. 15 dollars."
Caleb nodded without hesitation and reached into his coat for his wallet. "I'll take one."
The blacksmith walked to the back and returned a moment later with a small iron grill, square, foldable legs, and a detachable top grate. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was perfect for what Caleb had in mind. Caleb handed over the money, and the blacksmith handed over the grill with a grunt and a nod.
With the grill in hand, Caleb returned to Morgan, who nickered softly at his approach. He secured the grill into one of the saddlebags, giving the horse a gentle pat. "Almost done, girl."
Next stop, back to the general store.
As he stepped inside, the small bell above the door jingled. To his surprise, it was Jasper standing behind the counter, not Mr. Worth.
The young man blinked when he saw Caleb and then grinned. "Caleb! Welcome back. Didn't expect to see you again so soon."
Caleb smiled back. "Hey there, Jasper. Where's Mr. Worth?"
"He had a bit of a stomach… uh, emergency," Jasper said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "He's in the outhouse."
Caleb chuckled. "Fair enough. Say, do you folks sell large cooking pots?"
Jasper brightened. "Sure do! Want one?"
"Actually, I'll take two of those."
"Give me a minute," Jasper said, disappearing into the back room.
Caleb waited patiently, scanning the familiar shelves of flour, ammo, canned peaches, soap, and gun oil. A minute later, Jasper returned with two iron cooking pots, setting them down on the counter with a metallic clatter.
"What're you planning to cook?" Jasper asked, raising a curious brow.
Caleb smirked. "You'll be the first to know. But for now, it's a secret I have to keep."
Jasper groaned in mock frustration. "That's not fair."
Laughing, Caleb leaned on the counter. "Alright, I'll also need a sack of potatoes and a small purse of salt. A meat cleaver. And a good cooking knife. Also some bread rolls, 6 of em."
Jasper nodded and went about collecting the items. First, the sack of potatoes from the back room, heavy, maybe twenty pounds. The small purse filled with salt. Then a sturdy cleaver with a thick wooden grip and a razor sharp edge. Next, a thin, long cooking knife with a fine balance. Lastly, the 6 bread rolls. He laid it all out.
"Anything else?" Jasper asked.
Caleb shook his head. "That's all."
"That'll be 35 dollars and 53 cents," Jasper said, tallying it all quickly on the piece of paper he wire on.
Caleb paid it in full, handing over the cash. "Thanks. Mind helping me carry this to the porch?"
"Sure," Jasper said with a nod.
Together, they carried the gear outside. Caleb stacked the cooking pots together and placed the knives, small purse filled with salt, and bread rolls inside them. With his strength stat 7/10 doing the work, he slung the potato sack over his shoulder with ease, gripping it in one hand while holding the stacked pots with the other.
"Well," Jasper said with a grin, "guess I'll find out what this is all for eventually."
"You will," Caleb replied, tipping his hat. "Just don't spoil the surprise when you do."
"I won't," Jasper promised, heading back inside to man the counter while Mr. Worth was still, presumably, in gastrointestinal distress.
Caleb then made his way across the road to the hotel. Inside, the hotel's lobby was quiet. The clerk gave him a lazy nod as he passed, recognizing him but not bothering with small talk. Caleb walked up the stairs and reached his room at the far end of the second floor.
Once inside, he locked the door behind him and set everything down in the corner of the room. The sack of potatoes landed with a soft thud, and the cooking pots were carefully stacked on top. He placed the knives on the nightstand for now, wrapped in cloth so that he doesn't accidentally hurt himself with it.
With his purchases secured in his hotel room, Caleb wasted no time in heading out to gather the last few ingredients he needed. He walked with a calm but purposeful gait, his boots crunching softly against the road as he made his way toward the butcher stand. There, as always, was Old Bob, swatting lazily at flies with a stained rag as he leaned against his chopping table.
"Afternoon, Old Bob," Caleb greeted, offering a small wave as he approached.
Old Bob looked up, grunted a pleasant "Afternoon, Caleb," and straightened himself with the help of a creaky elbow. "What can I do for ya?x
"I'm looking for some prime beef. Slices, maybe five or six. You got any good cuts today?"
Old Bob's thick brows twitched upward slightly. "Lucky for you, I do." He turned, lifting a heavy slab of glistening red meat from behind him. "Ain't often someone asks for slices like this unless they're fixin' for a stew or jerky."
"Let's just say I'm working on something different," Caleb replied with a subtle smirk.
Old Bob chuckled, took up his butcher knife, and began to cut. The thick, practiced strokes landed with satisfying thuds, each slice precise, uniform, and clean. Once done, he bundled the slices neatly in a clean cloth, tied the corners with a flick of his wrist, and handed it over.
"3 dollars for the lot," he said.
Caleb didn't blink at the price. He fished into his coat, counted out the money, and handed it over. "Thanks, Old Bob. Appreciate it."
"Anytime, Caleb. Don't poison yourself now," the old man called as Caleb turned away.
"No promises," Caleb tossed back, grinning as he tucked the meat parcel under his arm and headed toward the doctor's office.
The white walled building stood quietly beside the Sheriff's office. Doc Calloway wasn't just a physician, he also kept a stock of herbs and medicinal plants. Inside, the scent of medicine and dried herbs hit his nose as he stepped in.
"Doc Calloway," Caleb greeted warmly as he entered.
The man himself, lean and wiry with a handlebar mustache, glanced up from his desk. "Afternoon, Calen. You ain't come down with an injury like before, I hope?"
"No Doc," Caleb said, shaking his head. "Just need some herbs. Mint, Oregano, and Creeping Thyme. You have any on hand?"
Calloway nodded, standing from his seat. "I believe I do. How much you need?"
"Two or three stalks of each," Caleb replied.
The doctor went to the back, and Caleb waited, tapping his fingers lightly against the counter. A few moments later, Calloway returned with the requested herbs wrapped gently in a cloth.
"2 dollars and 25 cents," he said, setting the bundle down.
Caleb paid the sum without hesitation. "Thanks, Doc."
"Hope you're not cookin' up any weird medicine," Calloway joked dryly.
Caleb smiled but said nothing. "Take care."
Outside, the sun had shifted again, hanging lower now as it approached mid-afternoon. Caleb took out his pocket watch — 1:27 PM. Still plenty of time to begin testing. With measured steps, he returned to the hotel, climbed the stairs to his room, and shut the door behind him. There, he laid the parcels onto the table.
He pulled out the cloth filled with the beef slices and unfolded it on the table, careful not to let any juices drip.
He took two old shirts he didn't mind ruining and spread them across the surface like makeshift cutting boards. With the cleaver in hand, he began to chop the meat. Steady, deliberate cuts first. Then faster, slicing and mincing, until the slices became strips, then pieces, then a coarse mash. The cleaver thudded rhythmically against the wood, turning the meat into a pile of fresh, glistening ground beef.
Once satisfied with the texture, Caleb scooped the minced beef back into the same cloth it came in. He tied it securely and set it inside one of the cooking pots. Next came the herbs. One by one, he unwrapped them — Mint, Oregano, and Creeping Thyme — laying each on the clean shirt.
Using his cooking knife, he finely chopped them into tiny, fragrant fragments. The room slowly filled with the earthy scent of crushed leaves and fresh meat, a smell that reminded him distantly of backyard barbeques from his past life. It made his stomach rumble.
After chopping, he wrapped the herbs in the cloths again, carefully separating them by type. Then he tucked all four filled cloths into his satchel, alongside the bread rolls and the small purse of salt.
With everything packed, Caleb slung the satchel over his shoulder, grabbed his coat, and headed out the door. Downstairs, the clerk didn't even look up as Caleb passed through the lobby. Outside, Morgan was right where he left her, hitched in front of the general store, lazily flicking her tail.
"Alright girl," Caleb murmured as he mounted up. "Time to cook." He rode out of town, taking a familiar trail that led into a nearby glade not too far from the tree line. The air was fresh, the leaves rustling gently in the wind. He found a small clearing with a level patch of dirt, perfect for setting up camp. The ground was dry and shaded, and a fallen log served as a convenient bench.
...
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: 1196 dollars and 45. cents and 2 gold nuggets
Bank: 320 dollars, 4 gold bars, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets