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...
Caleb narrowed his eyes at Luke. "You want a draw, you got it. But you ain't walkin' away with pride." The townsfolk around immediately fell dead silent. Caleb stepped forward to his mark. Tommy did the same. The sun glinted off their holsters.
"Same rules," Caleb said. "I'll be the one to count this time too."
"Whatever, just count and then die," Tommy growled.
Caleb then takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, before opening his eyes again, looking at the man in the eye before he begins counting.
"Three..."
He then changed his focus, targeting not the man's heart or head, but his right shoulder.
"Two..."
His body relaxed, breath slowing, vision narrowing. His right hand was already near his Navy Revolver.
"One."
Caleb activates his Dead Eye (Lvl 2). The world then slowed.
Bang.
Caleb's bullet hit first, square into Tommy's right shoulder. The man's pistol fired wildly into the air as he screamed, dropping the weapon and crumpling to his knees, blood soaking his shirt.
Gasps rippled through the crowd again, followed by murmurs of amazement.
"He didn't kill him..."
"Shot clean... didn't even look like he aimed."
"That's a great story. I've seen it many people duel before. What Caleb has shown was a real deal."
Caleb stepped forward, eyes cold, and knelt beside the moaning man.
"Next time you challenge someone in front of the town, make sure your damn hands are steady and not drunk. Also, don't you ever point your gun at someone who didn't draw first."
Sheriff Malloy arrived not long after, pushing through the crowd. He looked from Caleb to the injured man.
"What in the blazes happened here, Caleb?"
A dozen voices shouted out, but Caleb calmly stepped forward.
"Drunken gunfight, Sheriff. One man is dead. This one here challenged me after. I shot to wound."
The Sheriff grunted. "Could've shot to kill. Most would've."
"Didn't need to," Caleb said.
Sheriff Malloy hearing that shook his head in amusement, before then nodded. "I'll take it from here."
The crowd slowly dispersed. Caleb adjusted his hat and holsters, exhaling long and slow. His hands no longer trembled at this kind of madness.
He turned on his heel and walked back toward his stall site, already thinking about the stall, the build, and the food Jasper would one day cook in it.
But in the back of his mind, something darker stirred.
Every time he drew his gun, his feelings that connected part of the old world, the one where he played this game before he'd died, flashed behind his eyes. And every time he survived, he felt more rooted in this one.
When Caleb arrived at the lot beside the stable, the sun had already climbed past the horizon and was spreading golden light across the dirt. The half built structure stood like a skeleton of dreams slowly taking shape. And beside it, hard at work, were George, Elias, and Seth.
Elias was sawing through a plank with methodical precision while Seth hammered in a crossbeam with rhythmic thuds. George stood a little off to the side, arms crossed as he inspected their progress, ever the craftsman in charge. All three turned when they heard approaching footsteps on the dirt.
"Well look who finally decided to show up boys," George called, a smirk curling at the edge of his mouth.
"Mornin', boys," Caleb greeted, lifting a hand as a sign of apology as he stepped forward. "Sorry 'bout that. Got held up by something."
Seth paused mid swing of his hammer. "You? Held up? You live a stone's throw from here, Caleb."
Caleb chuckled. "Yeah, well... You fellas hear those gunshots earlier this mornin'?"
George narrowed his eyes. "We did. Figured it was some drunken cowpoke shootin' at shadows. Don't tell me you were involved in that mess."
Caleb scratched the back of his neck and gave a sheepish nod. "Kinda. Was tryin' to break it up, but one thing led to another... fella named Tommy challenged me to a duel in front of the saloon. I tried to walk away, but he wouldn't take no for an answer."
"A duel? In the middle of the damn street?" Elias asked, incredulous.
Caleb nodded. "He'd already shot someone else, which resulted from a drunken fight. Killed him. I didn't want blood, but he kept pressin'. So I shot to wound. Hit him in the shoulder. Sheriff Malloy showed up and took it from there."
The three craftsmen exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.
"Damn," George said. "There's mornin' entertainment and we missed it, damn shame."
"Woulda brought some food if we knew about this," Seth added with a chuckle.
Elias shook his head. "Folks these days... scared of dyin', but can't stay away from it neither."
Caleb smirked wryly. "Ain't that the truth. Alright, enough talkin'. Let's get this wrapped up. I reckon we can finish before noon if we stay focused."
With that, the four men returned to their tasks. Under Caleb's direction and enthusiasm, the work progressed swiftly. Caleb took up once more to the menial labor, hauling beams, hammering nails, sanding edges, and measuring distances while George gave instructions and checked measurements.
Seth set about finishing the counter, sanding the outer planks smooth and reinforcing the corner joints. Elias handled the cutting and alignment of the wooden frame for the tables and benches.
Caleb, now with a better grip on the rhythm of construction, worked closely with them. His Crafting skill, while basic, lent him clarity in following their instructions and anticipating needs.
By mid-morning, the stall's structure was fully framed and enclosed. The cooking area, a shed like space without a roof or flooring, stood ready, with a fire safe stone basin in one corner for cook pots. The wide counter facing the street gleamed beneath a fresh coat of polish Seth applied with a rag.
Next came the tables and chairs. Each table was crafted from the same local pine, durable and easy to shape. Elias and Caleb assembled them together, while George oversaw their stability and alignment. Seth anchored the benches to prevent sliding on uneven dirt.
With the final nail driven and the last beam in place, the four men stepped back to admire their work. The stall stood strong and proud, open to the street and ready for business. A light breeze passed through, fluttering the newly hung cloth above the counter.
George took a deep breath, hands on his hips. "Well, gentlemen. I reckon we just built ourselves a mighty fine piece of work."
"Amen to that," Seth said, wiping his brow.
"She stands straight, doesn't creak, and won't fall over if someone sneezes. That's good carpentry," Elias added.
Caleb grinned. "Couldn't have done it without you all. Fine piece of work."
Then he reached into his satchel which in truth he opened his inventory and pulled out the remaining payment, counting out 175 dollars before adding an extra 60 dollars as a bonus.
"As promised. The rest of your pay, plus twenty for each of you."
George blinked. "Didn't expect the promised bonus wasn't just some small talk."
"Hey, I'm a man of my word and you boys earned it," Caleb said simply.
Each man took his cut, nodding their appreciation.
"We can't wait to see this place open," Seth said. "It'll turn heads for sure."
Caleb raised his hands, chuckling softly. "That brings me to a small favor, fellas. I'd like to ask that y'all not go around tellin' folks I'm the owner. Say Jasper is the one runnin' this, I just helped with the build and lent him the money."
The three men exchanged glances, confused.
"Why the secrecy?" Elias asked.
"Just tryin' to keep things quiet," Caleb said. "Some things are easier when folks don't associate my name with every venture I back, especially since Cornwall painted a target on my back. You keep it under wraps, I'll remember it."
Seth shrugged and nodded his head. "That makes much sense to me, you got it. Your secret's safe with us"
George gave a small nod. "Friendship goes both ways. We won't say a word. Right, Elias?"
"Lips sealed."
"Same here."
Caleb smiled. "Thank you. Really."
With a final round of handshakes and pats on the back, the three craftsmen packed up their tools, loaded their small wagon, and rolled out toward the town's outskirts.
Caleb remained behind, seated on one of the benches beneath the stall's awning. He leaned back, eyes drifting over the quiet structure that now stood as a physical extension of his will. It wasn't just about money. It was a mark, a stake in the world. The start of something larger.
The sun had moved higher in the sky when Caleb Thorne finally stood up from the bench beneath his newly built food stall. His body was sore, especially in the arms and legs from the construction work, but the ache was a good kind of tired, the kind that meant progress.
He stretched out his limbs, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles before adjusting his hat. There was more to do.
He took a moment to dust off his shirt and brush sawdust from his trousers, then started down the road into town. His first stop was Old Bob's butcher stall.
The smell hit him first, fresh meat of cow, pork, chicken, and salted meat hanging from hooks, gleaming under the noon sun. Old Bob stood behind the counter sharpening his cleaver.
"Afternoon, Bob."
Old Bob glanced up. "Well now, Caleb Thorne. You finish that little palace of yours already?"
Caleb grinned. "Just wrapped it up an hour ago. Looks better than I imagined. Now, I came here to ask you a small favor."
Old Bob raised an eyebrow. "Favor? You ain't reneging on our meat deal, are you?"
"Not at all," Caleb said quickly, holding up both hands. "I still want your cuts for my business. But I wanted to ask if you could keep quiet 'bout me bein' the one behind it. Tell folks it's Jasper's venture."
Old Bob leaned on the counter, curious. "Why the hush hush?"
"You know how things were with Cornwall. Man's got long arms and longer grudges. The last thing I want is for him or his lackeys to sniff out that I'm startin' something profitable. Safer for everyone if my name stays outta it."
Old Bob grunted. "Could've told me this sooner."
Caleb gave a sheepish smile. "Truth be told... I got excited. The whole thing went over my head. Forgot to bring it up."
Old Bob snorted but nodded. "You young bucks and your fire. Fine. I'll say Jasper's the man behind the meat. So long as the coin's good, my lips are sealed."
"Appreciate it, Bob."
Next up was Mr. Worth at the general store. Caleb found him behind the counter as usual, taking stock of canned peaches and tobacco tins.
"Afternoon, Mr. Worth."
"Caleb, good to see you. Need another sack of flour already?"
"Not just yet. I came to ask a small favor."
Mr. Worth looked up from his ledger. "Go on."
"Same deal as before, I still want your dry goods for my business stall. But I was hoping you'd keep it quiet that I'm involved."
Mr. Worth frowned slightly. "This about Cornwall again?"
"Yes, sir. Last thing I want is more attention. I did a number on his pride runnin' him outta Valentine. Can't risk him hearing I'm stirring up business."
Mr. Worth considered him for a long second. "You sure you ain't being too careful?"
Caleb shrugged. "Maybe. But better cautious than six feet under. Truth is, I just forgot to mention it sooner. Got caught up in the build."
Mr. Worth let out a dry chuckle. "You're lucky you're young, Caleb. People forgive forgetfulness when it comes from enthusiasm and spirit. Alright, I'll keep your name outta it. Jasper's stall, got it."
...
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 4)
- 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 (Lv 2)
- Persuasion (Lvl 2)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 2)
- Teaching (Lvl 1)
- Germanic Language Proficiency (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 5x5x5)
Money: 564 dollars and 0 cents
Inventory: 2,451 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: -