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Slipping into his Vaquero outfit, he grabbed the pump action shotgun wrapped in a cloth that he put on the dresser table, and put it under his arm, and headed downstairs. The town was already stirring to life as he stepped out onto the street, Valentine's usual mix of traders, ranchers, and drifters moving about.
Caleb made his way to the gunsmith, the bell jingled as he entered, where Mr. Dalton greeted him with a nod. "Morning, Caleb. What can I do for you?"
"Mr. Dalton." Caleb tipped his hat to the wiry gunsmith who stood polishing a Winchester behind the counter. "Got this beauty recently. Needs a bit of maintenance."
He unwrapped the shotgun with care, laying it on the glass display case where morning light caught the intricate scrollwork on the receiver. Mr. Dalton's bushy eyebrows rose as he picked up the weapon, running calloused fingers along the barrel and inspecting it with his trained eye.
"Well, I'll be damned. A Winchester 1897 pump action." He worked the action with practiced hands, nodding at the smooth mechanism. "Where'd you come across this beauty?"
"Took it off some family of outlaws that ambush me up near Window Rock." Caleb leaned casually against the counter, watching Mr. Dalton's expert inspection. "Figured it needed proper attention before I trust my life to it."
Mr. Dalton flipped the gun over, squinting at the firing pin. "Recent cleanin' but it could use some fine tuning, the magazine spring's weak, and the bore's got fouling." He set it down with a decisive tap. "5 dollars gets you a full tear down, new springs, and a mirror polish."
Caleb didn't hesitate, pulling out and placing 5 dollars across the counter. "I'll be back around noon or afternoon to pick it up, no problem?"
"Ain't my first rodeo, Caleb." Mr. Dalton winked, already reaching for his tools. "Come back this afternoon and you will pick up an almost brand new shotgun."
With that settled, Caleb left the store and walked toward the stable. Mr. Levi was tending to a customer when he noticed Caleb approaching. "Mornin' to you, Caleb. Come to pick up Morgan and your guns?"
Caleb nodded. "That's right."
Levi motioned to one of his stable hands, who promptly went to fetch Morgan. Meanwhile, Levi himself disappeared into the back of the stable, returning shortly with the weapons Caleb had asked to be stored. "Oh also that American Paint you kept is settled in stall four."
Caleb nodded his head, and received the two Carbines repeater, and the double barrel shotgun, which had been wrapped in burlap by Mr. Levi.
Meanwhile, as soon as Morgan led out, the mare snorted and whinnied upon seeing her rider. Caleb chuckled, taking the lead from the stable hand and patting Morgan's face. "Missed me already, girl?"
Morgan flicked her ears and nuzzled his shoulder. Caleb rewarded her with an apple from his pocket before securing the weapons onto her saddle. Once everything was in place, he climbed into the saddle and nodded to Mr. Levi. "Appreciate it, Mr. Levi."
"Take care out there Caleb," Mr. Levi replied as Caleb nudged Morgan forward.
With everything squared away, Caleb returned to the hotel, stowed the carbine repeaters and the double barriers in his room, and grabbed his saddlebag putting it back on Morgan. With his final preparations complete, he mounted Morgan once more and turned south, pulling up his Map Function for guidance.
The journey to Rhodes was a long one, and he planned to take the most efficient route, heading toward Flatneck Station first before following the road by using the railway heading southeast as guidance, since he hadn't opened up part of the area there yet on his map, but fortunately his memory skill helps him remember the map from the game.
If all went smoothly, he'd arrive in Rhodes in about two hours. The ride began uneventfully. The dirt roads of New Hanover stretched ahead, the rolling plains gradually shifting to more wooded terrain as he neared Flatneck Station.
Birds chirped overhead, rabbits crossed through the road once in a while, and the occasional deer darted through the underbrush. The rhythmic clatter of Morgan's hooves was the only sound accompanying him as he rode.
Upon reaching Flatneck Station, Caleb slowed Morgan to a trot. The station wasn't particularly busy, just a few travelers waiting for the next train and a couple of drifters playing poker inside the warehouse.
He didn't linger, only taking a brief moment to adjust his gear before continuing southeast. The railway was his best guide now, a clear path leading straight to Rhodes passing through Scarlett Meadows.
As he pressed on, the scenery changed. The grasslands of New Hanover gave way to the clear open plains of Scarlet Meadow, and then to the moss covered trees of Lemoyne. The air grew thicker, and more humid, carrying the scent of damp earth and decaying vegetation.
The transition was a stark contrast, but Caleb was unfazed. He had a goal in mind, and distractions wouldn't deter him.
After nearly two hours of riding, the outskirts of Rhodes came into view. The town was small compared to Valentine's but had a distinct Southern charm, brick buildings, wooden porches, and a population that moved with a certain slow paced ease.
But Caleb knew better than to assume all was well, because he knew well Rhodes had its share of troubles. Of course the biggest one notably the ongoing rivalry between the Braithwaites and the Grays that stretch to centuries. He'd keep his business quick and stay out of trouble.
Guiding Morgan toward the gunsmith's store, he dismounted and secured her to a hitching post in front of the gunsmith store. He then goes to the right side of the store and sees the basement window made of steel bars, and as he crouches down to see inside, he sees the teenage boy wearing some kind of sailor outfit for a boy looking back at him.
When the teenage boy saw him, he scrambled his hand out from the bars, his voice urgent and trembling. "Mister! Help me! I've been trapped down here!"
Caleb crouched down, his gaze narrowing as he studied the boy. "Woah, easy there, kid. Why are you dressed like that? Are you alright there, kid?"
"It's that crazy gunsmith! He made me dress up like this, mister! Please, help me!"
Caleb nodded as his jaw tightened. He'd known what to expect from his memories, but seeing the reality turned his stomach. "Stay down and wait. I'll get you out of there."
His expression darkened as he stepped back, scanning his surroundings to ensure nobody had seen the interaction before heading to the entrance of the store. Adjusting his stance, he pulled a bandana from his pocket and tied it across the lower half of his face before heading toward the store's entrance.
He took a deep breath, pushing the door open with controlled force. A small bell jingled above, announcing his arrival.
Behind the counter stood Jasper Freeney, the town's gunsmith, wiping down a Springfield rifle with a rag. His gaze lifted as Caleb entered, eyes flickering with mild curiosity before tensing at the sight of the bandana covered face. Caleb didn't hesitate, he drew one of his Schofield revolvers and aimed it directly at Freeney.
Freeney's posture stiffened, releasing the Springfield to the counter, and his hand twitching near his waist before he stopped himself. "Hey, hey! What're you doin'? You better put that down, 'cause that's a fool's decision."
Caleb kept his voice low and gruff, disguising it further. "I don't care, mister. I want to see what's in that basement of yours. Show me. Right now."
Freeney's face paled slightly, and his lips pressed into a thin line. "There's nothin' of worth down there, I swear!"
Caleb stepped closer, the revolver unwavering in his hand. "I don't care what you say. I'll be the judge of that. Open it."
Freeney hesitated for only a moment longer before reluctantly reaching for his keys. His hands trembled slightly as he fumbled through them, eventually selecting the right one.
"I assure you, mister, there's nothin' I'm hidin' down there," he muttered, forcing a weak chuckle. "It's just ma' boy who stays down there. He was sleepin'. Such a shame, wakin' him up."
Caleb said nothing, merely gesturing with his revolver. Freeney sighed, moving toward the floor door to his right. He inserted the key and turned it with a metallic clank, then pulled the wooden hatch open, revealing a narrow staircase leading into dimness below.
The air down there was stale, thick with the scent of dust, damp wood, and something faintly metallic. Caleb motioned with his gun. "After you."
Freeney hesitated before stepping down the stairs, with Caleb right behind him, gun trained on his back. As they descended, the teenager in the sailor suit recoiled, his voice trembling with both fear and defiance. "You… you just stay away from me, monster!"
Freeney's face twisted into something halfway between anger and mock hurt. "Now, what did I tell ya about talkin' to your pa that way, boy?!"
Before he could say another word, Caleb stepped forward and cracked the butt of his Schofield against Freeney's temple. The gunsmith groaned before slumping to the ground, unconscious. The teenager gasped before his face lit up with relief. "Oh, thank God! Mister, please! Shoot the chains, free my leg!"
Caleb lifted a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. His gaze flicked toward the weapon crate to his left. Inside was the Lancaster Repeater he wanted, pristine and well maintained. He reached in, admiring its craftsmanship before slinging it over his shoulder.
Then, he turned his Schofield toward the iron shackles binding the boy's ankle and fired. The shot echoed sharply in the basement, but the chain snapped clean.
The teenager stumbled forward, rubbing at the raw skin where the shackles had held him. "I… I can't thank you enough, mister. I thought I was gonna rot down here. That sick some of a bitch kidnapped me, and force me to be his son, so thank you for helping me."
"No time for thanks yet," Caleb murmured. "We need to get out of here. Can you walk?"
The boy nodded quickly. "Yeah, I think so."
Caleb moved toward the stairs, glancing up to ensure no one had come to investigate the gunshot. Satisfied that they were still alone, he gestured for the boy to follow him. "Stick close. Keep quiet."
The two ascended cautiously. Once in the main store, Caleb scanned the shelves and counter, noting the Springfield rifle that Freeney had been cleaning before on the counter. He quickly took it and slung it over his shoulder, also pocketing 5 boxes of rifle cartridges before leading the boy outside after putting his bandana off.
Morgan stood tied at the post, ears flicking as she noticed Caleb. He untied her reins, glancing back at the teenager. "You got a place to go, kid?"
"I… I don't know. I just wanna get as far away from here as possible."
Caleb exhaled through his nose, considering. He didn't have time to play guardian, but he also couldn't just leave the kid to fend for himself. He climbed into the saddle and extended a hand down. "Come on."
The boy hesitated for only a second before grabbing Caleb's hand and pulling himself up behind him. "Thank you, mister. Really."
Caleb nudged Morgan forward. "Hold on tight. We're gettin' out of Rhodes."
With the boy behind him, Caleb rode out from Rhodes without attracting anyone's attention, double checking his surroundings using his high perception stats. Relying on his map function, he retraced his previous route, heading back to Valentine.
After twenty minutes of hard riding, Caleb slowed Morgan to a much normal pace. The boy hadn't spoken since they'd left, his breathing shallow against Caleb's back. Caleb glanced over his shoulder at the boy. "So, you got any place to go, kid? Where's your hometown at? Maybe I can drop you off there if it's nearby, or help pay for a stagecoach."
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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 1)
- Rifle (Lvl 1)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 2)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 1)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 1)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 1)
- Poker (Lvl 1)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 1)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 1)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
Money: 728 dollars and 39 cents
Bank: 40 dollars, 2 gold bars, and a large bag of jewelry