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"I just want to know more," he said gently, eyes holding hers. "About the kind of danger we're facin'. Arthur and Hosea don't tell me much of it. If I'm gonna keep evaluatin' the risks around us, I need to know what I can. That's all. I ain't pryin' out of curiosity, I'm tryin' to make sense of the danger so I can help."
Mary-Beth studied him, her lips parting, the flicker of the firelight reflected in her eyes. She saw the seriousness etched into his face, the concern, the responsibility he carried, and she believed him wholly.
"Alright. I… I don't know the whole story," she said at last, her voice quiet. She folded her hands in her lap, her tone softening. "I'll tell you what I remember. My point of view."
Caleb leaned in just slightly, his attention fixed.
"When the boys came back from Blackwater, everything was chaos," Mary-Beth began, her voice distant as though reliving it. "There'd been a bloody shootout in town. Jenny and Davey… they were hurt badly, so bad I thought they'd both die before morning, Mac was gone separated from us. Everyone was scared, panicked."
Her voice trembled faintly at the memory. "Dutch and the others came back and told us to pack only the necessities, to abandon anything that would slow us down. The camp turned into a whirlwind, people shouting, grabbing what they could carry. I was packing too, hands shaking so bad I barely knew what I was putting in my bag."
Her hands twitched faintly, mimicking the old fear. Caleb remained silent, letting her words come.
"And then I heard Micah," she continued, a faint bitterness creeping into her tone and her lip curled in distaste at the name. "He was asking Dutch about the money. The money they managed to take during the job. He wanted to know where Dutch had put it."
Caleb's eyes narrowed slightly, though he kept his expression controlled.
"Dutch told him he had hidden it somewhere safe," Mary-Beth went on. "That after everything died down, we'd go back for it. But Micah kept pushing, insisting he should know, that they couldn't just leave it behind. Dutch snapped at him, told him to shut up, and helped the others pack. Micah sulked and muttered something under his breath, but he backed off."
She gave a humorless little laugh. "Typical Micah, always pryin', always talkin' when he should've been workin'."
Caleb's heart flickered with grim satisfaction. Caleb's jaw tightened slightly, though he kept his face calm. He ensured it himself back in Strawberry, slipping through the cracks to put an end to that poisonous rat before he could cause greater harm. Mary-Beth didn't know it was him, and she didn't need to.
She paused, her lips pressing together, and then added with sudden firmness, "I'm glad Micah's dead. Glad someone killed him when he was locked up in Strawberry. He was rotten through and through."
Gently, he brushed the top of her head with his hand. "Good riddance," he murmured. "Better the bastard's dead before I ever had to meet him. World's better off without men like him."
Mary-Beth smiled faintly at the touch, leaning into it, comforted. Caleb, meanwhile, felt that same inward spark of satisfaction, confirmation that his choice had was more than right. No one would mourn Micah. No one would ever suspect.
After a pause, Caleb tilted his head, his voice casual though carefully measured. "So… this money Micah kept barkin' about. What money was it, exactly?" he asked, feigning ignorance.
Mary-Beth shook her head slightly. "I don't know much," she admitted honestly. "Just that it was from the ferry job. They were trying to rob a ferry and… something went wrong. Terribly wrong. They got hold of the money, but the Pinkertons came down on them fast. People died, Caleb. Civilians. That's why it's so hot for us there. That's all I know." Her tone dropped to a hushed whisper, as though even the night air might carry her words away.
Caleb nodded, thoughtful, piecing it together as if it were fresh information. "So no one knows where it is? Other than Dutch?"
"That's what I think, yes," Mary-Beth replied, her expression clouded. But then she stopped suddenly, a flicker of memory lighting in her eyes. "Wait… no. Hosea might know too."
Caleb's eyes flicked toward her, hiding his sudden interest beneath a mask of mild curiosity. "Hosea?"
"Yes." Mary-Beth's gaze drifted as she recalled. "I remember when we were in Colter," Mary-Beth said slowly.
"I overheard Dutch and Hosea talking late one night. They mentioned the money. Dutch said he stored it somewhere inside the town, where no one would expect. A quiet place. I couldn't hear the rest, the snowstorm got too loud, the wind howling so bad it drowned everything out. But one thing I'm sure of, the money should still be in Blackwater."
Caleb's heart gave a quiet thump of triumph. That lined up with his own suspicion. Hosea wasn't the kind of man to leave Dutch unchecked, not on something this important. Dutch might keep others in the dark, but Hosea would always be his shadow in matters of strategy.
And then there was that damn clue from the game, the conversation during the fishing trip, Dutch musing about his mother's grave in Blackwater. It all pointed the same way.
Dutch would've hidden the take where sentiment and secrecy collided, in his mother's grave, in Blackwater cemetery. No Pinkerton would ever think to desecrate a grave for stolen money. It all aligned with the suspicion that had nagged at him since the beginning.
Plans began to form, sharp and deliberate, inside his head. While they stayed in Valentine, he could make the trip. He could reach Blackwater, locate Dutch's mother's grave, and claim the stash for himself. With the money in his inventory, secured beyond reach, the gang would never even know until it was too late. And with it, he could change everything.
Mary-Beth's voice broke through his thoughts. "What are you thinking about?" she asked softly, tilting her head at him.
Caleb blinked, then smiled gently, covering his scheming with practiced ease. "Just evaluatin' the danger," he said. "Just evaluatin' the danger, same as I said. From the way you describe it… the take must've been enormous. Enough that the Pinkertons ain't lettin' this go. Makes sense, now, why they're hell bent on huntin' us down."
Mary-Beth nodded, a shadow crossing her face at the thought of the Pinkertons' relentless pursuit. She leaned lightly back against his side. "Yes… I suppose you're right. It must be something enormous, for them to chase us so fiercely. I just hope Dutch really did hide it somewhere safe. If he ever decides to go back for it…"
Caleb hummed, but said nothing more. Inside, though, his plans were sharpening into steel. Blackwater was hot, yes, but the gang wasn't ready to make a move there.
Dutch was cautious, waiting. That gave Caleb time. And while the others dreamed of survival, he was thinking ahead. The money wasn't Dutch's. Not anymore. Not if Caleb could get to it first.
For now, though, he tucked the plan deep inside himself, hidden as carefully as Dutch's stash. He let the fire's glow soften his face, his arm curl lightly around Mary-Beth's shoulders, and his lips press another kiss to the crown of her hair.
"Thank you for tellin' me," he murmured. "I needed to hear it."
Mary-Beth smiled faintly, her heart steadying against the warmth of his voice. "Of course, Caleb. Always."
The days that followed passed in a blur of dust, sweat, wood, and hammer strikes. Two days, yet they stretched long as weeks in Caleb's body, aching as each morning bled into evening and each evening into night.
He threw himself into the construction with George, Seth, Elias, Jasper, Simon, Troy, and Mickey, working shoulder to shoulder until the sun dipped low and the lanterns had to be lit.
The once small food stall was beginning to transform into something far greater. Where before there had only been a humble shack of rough timber and creaking planks, now a foundation of stone and wood spread across the ground like the bones of a new creature.
The flooring was laid down, solid and even, carrying the promise of permanence. The walls rose high, not just enclosing but shaping spaces, one for the counter and kitchen, another wide open for tables and chairs, a roomier design that Caleb himself had sketched with a blend of memory and instinct.
Mary-Beth had been an angel during these two days, carrying lunch and dinner for everyone without fail. She always arrived with her basket in hand, her smile lightening the weight in the men's bones.
Caleb had made sure to thank her in more than words. After winning 467 dollars in a sudden poker tournament he'd organized on the second day, he handed her one 150 dollars of it.
"Take this, darlin'," he'd said, pressing the folded bills into her hand when no one was watching. "For all your trouble, runnin' back and forth, makin' sure these hungry fellas don't keel over from emptiness."
Mary-Beth's blush had bloomed bright and warm as she tried to refuse, but Caleb wouldn't hear it. "You deserve it," he insisted, brushing her knuckles with his thumb before letting go.
The tournament itself had been a sight. Not nearly as profitable as the first two he'd staged, but Caleb hadn't minded. He'd walked away with less, sure, but he'd kept his skills sharp and reminded the locals why they shouldn't underestimate him at a table of cards.
Still, the true profit hadn't been the money. It had been the way people whispered his name with equal parts awe and wariness afterward. That kind of reputation could be spent just as wisely as coin.
At night, when the hammers were set down and their arms too tired to lift another plank, Caleb turned teacher. He took Jasper, Simon, and Troy out behind the building where the open air stretched dark and cool, the stars bright above, and laid out a row of bottles and cans.
"Steady hands," Caleb would say, his revolver gleaming under the lantern light as he demonstrated. "Aim for the neck of the bottle, not the body. A smaller target sharpens your skill."
Jasper, Simon, and Troy each took turns. Sometimes Caleb placed the bottles far downrange, forcing them to squint and breathe deep before squeezing the trigger.
Other times he lined them side by side, demanding they crack each one in succession. Then he'd toss them up into the air himself or send them rolling across the dirt, forcing them to react quick, aim quicker.
Their accuracy improved slowly but surely, and with it, Caleb's system recognized his effort. His Crafting skill had ticked upward, from level 2 to level 3, reflecting the hours he spent shaping walls, cutting wood, and anchoring nails with his own hands.
More importantly, his Teaching skill had risen as well, now firmly at level 2, making his lessons more effective, his words sharper, his demonstrations clearer. Every bullet that shattered a bottle under their hands felt like proof of progress, not just for them, but for him.
The wages for Jasper, Simon, Troy, and Mickey came not from Caleb's pocket but from the stall's earlier earnings. That was another victory in itself. He didn't need to dip into his savings yet.
He could keep those funds untouched, waiting, while construction advanced day by day. George, Seth, and Elias would need to be paid out of Caleb's own money once all was finished, but that was acceptable. That was planned for.
By the third day in the noon, the worksite bustled like a hive. Elias, Jasper, Simon, Troy, and Mickey balanced themselves high on beams, laying the roof planks into place.
The sound of hammers echoed in rhythm, interrupted now and again by shouted instructions. Below them, George crouched near a post, carefully guiding the placement of wires, his hands deft as he ensured the electricity lines would stretch properly through the building to feed the lamps. Seth helped him, rolling out the cable and keeping everything taut and clean.
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 7/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 6/10
- Luck: 6/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 4)
- Rifle (Lvl 3)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 3)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 2)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 3)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 4)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 2)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 3)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 1)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 0)
- Crafting (Lv 2) → (Lvl 3)
- Persuasion (Lvl 2)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 3)
- Teaching (Lvl 1) → (Lvl 2)
- Germanic Language Proficiency (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 5x5x5)
- Acting (Lvl 2)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
Money: 1,897 dollars and 10 cents
Inventory: 5,407 dollars and 43 cents, 7 gold nuggets, 8 gold bars, 7 silver rings, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 large bags of jewelry, 4 gold rings, 2 silver rings, 4 silver pocket watches, 3 gold buckles, 1 gold pocket compass, 2 platinum pocket watches, 2 Colm's Schofields, and land deed (Parcel)
Bank: -