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Sheriff Malloy eased back down with a grunt. "Things've calmed some in these past few days. After you left, Valentine was crawling with strangers and out of town agents. Folks in dark coats, real serious types. Called themselves Pinkertons. Others, I figure, were Cornwall's boys. They were asking questions about the Van der Linde gang."
Caleb stayed still, nodding slowly. "Did they mention me?"
"Yeah, your name came up. Alongside your description as well. They showed folks a sketch with your name on it, and they were definitely looking for you."
Caleb exhaled quietly when he heard that, not expecting it would go to such lengths, even have a sketch of him created. Looks like amongst the guards present with Cornwall at the time have a drawing talent like Arthur.
"They're gone now?"
"Seems that way," Sheriff Malloy replied, his expression neutral. "Pinkertons left about a three days ago. Cornwall's men lingered longer, but I think they've given up. Too many false leads. And frankly, this town wasn't giving them anything useful."
"So you think it's safe for me to be here now, Sheriff?"
Sheriff Malloy tapped his fingers on the desk. "Safer than before. But I wouldn't call it safe. You keep your head low, you might be fine. Still... you might be tempting fate."
Caleb gave a small nod, appreciating the honesty. "I'll stay sharp."
Sheriff Malloy smiled and nodded his head. "Good. Stay out of trouble, Caleb. I like you. Folks as well. But don't think I'll go easy if you bring heat to this town."
"I understand," Caleb said, rising to his feet. "Thanks for the warning."
Sheriff Malloy nodded and returned to his paperwork. "You'd best be on your way if you're not staying long. After all, we don't know if the Pinkertons or Cornwall's man could come back."
The door to the sheriff's office clicked shut behind Caleb as he stepped back out into the town of Valentine. The late afternoon sun cast a long shadow beneath his boots. The town was the same, muddy dirt road, wood planked walkways, horse smells mixed with warm food, but it felt different. Warier. A little colder, as though the town itself remembered the Pinkertons snooping around.
Caleb took a slow breath through his nose, grounding himself.
Then he walked toward Morgan.
She stood where he had left her, tied neatly to the hitching post outside the office. Her ears perked when he approached.
"Hey, girl," he murmured, patting her flank. "Still with me?"
Morgan let out a soft huff and nuzzled his chest, as if to answer always.
He untied her reins and mounted up, giving her a gentle nudge toward the main road. He passed a few pedestrians, ranch hands, even a few saloon patrons loitering outside Smithfield's. They gave him the usual side eye, but not from suspicion. More like they were checking to see if he was truly the same Caleb Thorne they remembered.
He steered Morgan toward the front of the Valentine Hotel and dismounted once more. He led her to the hitching post just outside the entrance and tied her securely. A quick pat on her neck later, and he was pushing open the hotel's creaky wooden door.
Inside, the air was warm with the smell of polished wood and pipe tobacco. The clerk behind the counter looked up and instantly broke into a grin.
"Well look who it is,* the man said. "If it ain't Mr. Caleb Thorne himself! Welcome back, Caleb. We were wonderin' when you'd show again. Heard some scary types were askin' 'bout you. Some from Pinkerton's and others were Cornwall's men. Dressed like funeral guests and twice as cold."
Caleb smiled and nodded. "Thanks for worrying. I heard the same from Sheriff Malloy. Sounds like things got tense around here."
"You could say that," the clerk replied, leaning forward. "But folks here got sense. Ain't nobody gave your whereabouts to no agents, even though we didn't know where you gone. You've done more for this town than those fellas ever will."
"Appreciate that," Caleb said sincerely. "Say… how many days do I have left on my room, or is it already gone?"
The clerk waved a dismissive hand. "Funny thing. Your days ran out just yesterday. But I made sure no one took it. Far as I'm concerned, that room's yours. Told the other employees the same. If someone came lookin', I told 'em it was either full or directed them to another room. We all agreed. It's Caleb's room or nobody's."
Caleb blinked, surprised. He hadn't expected such loyalty.
"That's… really kind of you all. Thank you."
"Bah," the clerk said with a shrug. "Just returnin' the favor, hero of Valentine."
Caleb chuckled softly, reaching into his satchel. He pulled out 15 dollars and placed it gently on the counter. "Well, let me make it official again. I'm renting it for another fifteen days. I'll extend it if I need more."
The clerk nodded as he swept the bills into the ledger box. "Done and done. Don't you worry 'bout a thing. You're safe here. We'll keep it that way."
"Thanks again.*
With that, Caleb walked toward the staircase. His boots echoed softly on the worn wood as he made his way up and turned right. His room sat at the far end of the hall on the right side, the same as before. He opened the door with a gentle push.
Inside, everything was just as he remembered it.
Neatly made bed. Freshly dusted windowsill. Even the old wash basin had been scrubbed. The room bore signs of regular cleaning, even in his absence. The bed's chest sat at the foot where he'd left it, still shut tight.
He walked over, knelt down, and opened it.
Inside lay the weapons he took from Chez Porter, two Cattleman revolvers, one Carbine Repeater, and his spare revolver which was his other Schofield Revolver.
Caleb picked up the Schofield, brushing his fingers across the barrel, then stored it inside his system inventory with a mental command. The revolver vanished into his digital grid, safe and secure.
The rest, he decided to leave them be. No need to lug extra steel with him. Not yet.
He rose, gave the room one last glance, then exited and descended the stairs. The clerk gave him a nod as he passed, and Caleb returned it with a smile.
Outside, the light was beginning to shift into that golden hour haze. Warm. Languid. But he had one more thing to do before he relaxed.
The Valentine Bank sat at the end of the main street, its solid red brick exterior and white trim making it one of the most well maintained buildings in town. Caleb stepped inside.
The interior was calm. One teller stands behind the counter, sorting coins. A guard stood by the vault door, rifle slung but not ready. Folks didn't usually cause trouble in Valentine's bank.
The teller looked up and his face lit up.
"Ah, Mr. Thorne! Good to see you again. Heard you'd come back into town. Still got your savings intact, not to worry."
"Appreciate that," Caleb said, stepping up. "I'd like to make a withdrawal. Everything from my account and from the security deposit box."
The teller blinked, then nodded. "Certainly, mister. Give me just a moment."
He unlocked a side drawer and retrieved the logbook. After confirming Caleb's signature, he stepped away to fetch his savings box. A few minutes later, the man returned with a velvet lined tray.
Caleb watched as his funds were brought out in full view, stacks of paper bills, tied together by denomination.
The clerk gestured. "This is your 320 dollars in cash Mr. Thorne, and with interest, it has become 340 dollars."
"Looks right, thanks," Caleb said.
He stored them one by one into his inventory system, acting like he was putting them inside his satchel. Then alongside the teller and guard, Caleb entered into the security deposit box area and opened his security deposit box, showing his four gold bars, three gold nuggets, and the large bag of jewelry.
With a thought and a gesture of putting them into his satchel, each gold bar, then the nuggets, and finally the bag of jewelry. One by one, they slipped into the digital grid of his permanent 5x5x5 storage space.
Once it was done, Caleb nodded at the teller.
"Thanks again for keeping everything safe."
"No problem at all, Mr. Thorne," the man said with a tip of his hat. "We value our most... discreet clients."
Caleb grinned faintly. "Glad to hear it."
As he turned to leave the bank, the clerk added one more thing.
"Be careful out there, sir. Rumors still swirl. But if you're in town? You've got friends."
Caleb looked back over his shoulder. "That means more than you know."
Caleb stepped out from the cool air of the bank and onto the wooden planks lining the dusty main street of Valentine. He adjusted the brim of his hat slightly, eyes shifting left and right, gauging the flow of townsfolk and the overall mood of the place.
It was quieter than it used to be. Not just in terms of foot traffic, but in spirit. The shadow the Pinkertons had cast still lingered like a thin fog over everything, even with them gone. But that was to be expected. Paranoia didn't vanish with the man who caused it, it took its time.
His gaze fell on the saloon across the street—Smithfield's. The sun gleamed off the dusty windows, and the faint sound of a piano drifted through the air, mixing with laughter and conversation from within. It wasn't as lively as evening hours, but the familiar clinking of glasses and the bark of a voice told him there was still life in there.
He patted the side of his coat, where he got some money sat secure in there, and crossed the street with deliberate steps.
As he approached, the wooden batwing doors creaked softly at his touch. Inside, it was warm, filled with the smell of whiskey, old tobacco, and furniture polish.
Only a handful of patrons sat around, some enjoying a drink, others drowsing in the corners. The piano player was absent, and the air was a little slower in rhythm.
Behind the bar stood a familiar man wiping a glass clean with a towel, Mr. Douglas. A stocky man with mutton chops and a gruff but affable air. Caleb had always liked him. Honest, blunt, and steady, a rare combination in this world.
Caleb started toward the bar, but didn't need to call out. Mr. Douglas looked up at the movement, blinked and then his tired eyes lit up.
"Are my eyes lying to me or I'm just hallucinating!" he boomed, setting the glass down. "If it ain't Caleb Thorne walkin' back in through my doors."
Caleb smiled, hands resting casually on the bar. "Been a while, Mr. Douglas."
"That it has," Mr. Douglas said, stepping out from behind the bar to clasp Caleb's hand in a hearty shake. "You sure picked the right time to show your face again, son. Those bastards in black coats and Cornwall's flunkies cleared out just a few days ago. Thought maybe they'd try and tear this place apart looking for you, but the townsfolk kept mum."
"I'm happy to hear that," Caleb said, sincerely.
"We look out for our own around here," Mr. Douglas replied with a smirk, stepping back behind the bar. "So, what'll it be?"
Caleb reached into his satchel and placed a dollar bill gently on the counter. "Two whiskeys."
Mr. Douglas nodded and swiftly swept up the bill. He retrieved two shot glasses from under the counter and poured out the whiskey, rich amber liquid sloshing with a practiced hand.
"Here's to returnin' in one piece," Mr. Douglas said, raising his glass.
Caleb mirrored him. "And to outliving corrupt people."
The two glasses clinked with a soft ting, and both men downed their shots. The whiskey burned its familiar path down Caleb's throat, warming his chest like a good memory. Leaning an elbow on the bar, Caleb let a small silence stretch between them before speaking again. "Say, Mr. Douglas. That poker tournament you helped set up a while back… the one that kinda started because of me."
...
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 3)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 1)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 2)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 1)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 0)
- Crafting (Lv1)
- Persuasion (Lvl 2)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 2)
- Teaching (Lvl 1)
- Germanic Language Proficiency (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 5x5x5)
Money: 501 dollars and 96 cents
Inventory: 1436 dollars, 2 gold nuggets, 5 gold bars, 4 silver rings, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets
Bank: -