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[Inventory Capacity Overload Detected.]
[Warning: Items will be forcefully ejected at random intervals until storage is reduced to maximum capacity.] "Damn it," Caleb muttered, shoving the fourth sack inside anyway. It accepted, but the message flashed again, brighter. His inventory was strained to the limit.
That was a complication he hadn't anticipated. He had never actually pushed his inventory system this far before. The thought of gold bars and bundles of bills randomly ejecting themselves in the middle of the street was a nightmare waiting to happen.
He clenched his jaw, steadying himself. He couldn't leave anything behind. He'd figure it out later where to put it, better to risk a forced ejection than to abandon half the fortune in Dutch's mother's grave. He would need to manage the timing, perhaps find somewhere safe to unload before that happened.
Breathing hard, Caleb looked down at the empty chest and the disturbed earth around him. He whispered, almost mockingly, "Rest easy now, Greta. Your son's secret ain't here no more. It's in a much safer andbeter hand now."
But the job wasn't done. The grave was a gaping wound, the casket visible beneath. If he left it like this, suspicion would fall instantly on the disturbed plot. He had to cover his tracks.
Caleb grabbed the spade again and began shoveling dirt back into the hole. It was slower now, heavier with the weight of the chest removed, but he forced himself to keep at it.
Bit by bit, the grave looked less disturbed. Still, anyone sharp eyed might notice. He scattered loose leaves and grass over the top, patting it down with his boots. It wasn't perfect, but in the dark, it might pass.
Every sound in the cemetery seemed louder than it should have been, the squeak of his boots in the dirt, and the frantic snorts from Stark as Caleb calm her down. Twice he froze, convinced he heard movement near the chapel, but the shadows remained empty. If Pinkertons were out here, they hadn't noticed him yet.
He mounted and steered her carefully back through the cemetery, every nerve on edge. The iron gate loomed ahead, the open night beyond.
As he passed under the archway, Caleb cast one last glance back at Greta's grave. His smirk returned. Dutch had hidden his treasure here, thinking no one would dare disturb it.
But Caleb Thorne wasn't just anyone. He was a man rewriting fate, one stolen fortune at a time. And tonight, fate had tilted in his favor. He didn't breathe easy until they were down the hill, the lights of Blackwater glittering below.
His mind raced. With 150,000 dollars in assets stuffed into his system, his future had just changed. He could build something that rivaled the Van der Linde gang's dream, but with structure and foresight instead of Dutch's madness.
But first, he had to get back unnoticed. He rode cautiously, circling wide to avoid patrols, checking his map interface with each turn. Once, a pair of lanterns bobbed along a side street, Pinkertons on the prowl, but Caleb waited it out, crouched low against Stark's neck, his heart hammering. Luck favored him again, they turned away.
By the time he slipped back into town through the alleys, the church bell tolled midnight. Caleb hitched Stark at a hirching post beside the saloon, then he entered through the side door quietly unnoticed by the patrons and Mr. Burt, and padded upstairs to his room. Only then, with the door bolted, did he finally exhale.
He the took out the four sacks from his system inventory, then he scoured for places to hide the sacks. In the end he feel he could store two sacks under the bed and stored the other two inside his wardrobe. After he find the perfect places to hide them for now, the system warning all gawed at him.
After all, he was going to brought them back to Valentine and the warning means that he needed to make several stop, to take the sacks out so that the sacks and other items inside his inventory, wouldn't be ejected out in random intervals while he ride back.
As he thought so, he turned his focus back on the four sacks that he had put beside his bed. He crouched down and slowly dragged them toward him, the leather scraping faintly against the wooden floorboards. The weight of them, even contained within the system earlier, reminded him just how much fortune he had stolen from under the nose of fate.
Caleb sat cross legged on the floor, tugging the first sack open. The smell of dirt and old fabric filled his nostrils as he reached inside and drew out a glimmering bar of gold. His fingers traced its heavy surface. Cold, solid, real. This was no dream. This was no "mission objective" on a screen. This was wealth in its rawest, most tangible form.
He lined up the gold bar in front of him, then reached back into the sack for another. And another. Slowly, carefully, he stacked them one by one, counting aloud in a whisper under his breath while keeping a mental tally flashing inside his head. "One… two… three…"
The pile grew steadily higher, each bar clinking softly as it touched the others. The sheer heft of them astounded him, if not for his system's inventory absorbing the weight, Stark would have buckled under the load, and Caleb would've been left like some idiot prospector dragging a wagon full of treasure through Pinkerton-infested roads.
Minutes ticked by. He reached into the second sack, continuing the count, his voice tightening with anticipation. By the time he set the last one down, Caleb froze, his eyes widening at the gleaming wall of wealth before him.
"Fifty," he muttered, the word escaping like a prayer. "Fifty goddamn gold bars."
His memory, courtesy of his Past Life Skill, didn't lie: in the world of Red Dead Redemption, a single gold bar held the value of roughly a thousand dollars. That meant, sitting here in front of him, he had fifty thousand dollars in just gold. Combined with the eight gold bars he already had stashed inside his system from past ventures, the total came to fifty eight thousand.
Caleb leaned back, pressing a hand against his mouth, his chest heaving. The shock rolled through him, but so did an elation so sharp it nearly made him laugh out loud. He had just outdone every outlaw dreamer, every desperate heist planner.
He had more in this room alone than the Van der Linde gang had managed to scrape together during their whole doomed run.
But there was more to count. He carefully placed the gold bars back into their sacks, their weight thudding dully against the floor as he cinched the ties. His hands trembled slightly as he pulled the other two sacks toward him.
When he opened them, the smell of aged paper and faint tobacco greeted him. Bundles of banknotes stared back at him in neat stacks, worn from years underground yet preserved by the dry earth.
Counting them wasn't as simple as the gold bars. Some bills were hundreds, some fifties, some twenties, even some stray fives.
Caleb organized them into denominations, stacking and restacking, his fingers moving fast but precise. The sound of paper fluttering filled the room as he lost himself in the rhythm, the stacks building steadily around him like tiny towers of power.
It took much longer than the gold bars, but finally, with the last bundle tallied and placed neatly atop the rest, Caleb sat back and exhaled heavily.
"One hundred thousand," he whispered. His voice was hushed, reverent, almost fearful. "Every single dollar. Not one missing."
That fact struck him like a revelation. Dutch hadn't skimmed. Dutch hadn't dipped into the stash, not even when the gang was starving, hunted, and freezing in the mountains.
He'd buried it all here, untouched. Either it was madness or it was faith, in what, Caleb couldn't say. But the result was clear. Caleb Thorne now held in his possession one hundred fifty thousand dollars.
The weight of it wasn't just physical. It was destiny-shaping. A fortune like this could buy safety, power, influence. It could fund entire businesses, build empires.
He could put Strawberry on the map, turn Blackwater's whispers into profit, even challenge the grandeur of Saint Denis with ventures of his own. A hotel, higher-class than anything currently in the city, where saloon and inn no longer blended but separated into refinement and luxury.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Dutch, you absolute fool. You buried the future, and I dug it up."
Caleb carefully repacked the money into the sacks, securing each one tightly before placing them against the wall. The room now felt warmer, brighter, as though fortune itself had lit the air. But when he glanced at the clock, he realized how much time had slipped by. The hands had crossed well past midnight.
Exhaustion hit him all at once. His shoulders slumped, his eyes burned. The adrenaline of the dig, the counting, the sheer excitement, it drained away, leaving behind a bone deep weariness. He yawned, stretched, and stood, dragging himself toward the bed.
The decision was easy. Blackwater had given him what he came for. Staying longer risked exposure, suspicion, and disaster. Tomorrow, he would ride out.
He collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to strip fully down, and sleep claimed him swiftly.
The next morning, Caleb woke with a smile that wouldn't leave his face. It was rare, waking up in this world without that old twinge of fear or worry. But now? Now he was a man with riches hidden beneath his fingertips. A man who held the power to change everything.
He rose, stretched, and prepared for the day. Reaching into his inventory, he pulled out the Donegal outfit and changed into it, folding the Josiah carefully and sliding it back into his system.
Disguise and variation were weapons too. If anyone had noticed him wandering last night in different clothes, they wouldn't connect him with Jonathan Granger this morning.
He slung his repeater and rifle across his torso, their weight familiar and comforting, then retrieved the four sacks once more. The system immediately flashed its bright warning at him again.
[Inventory Capacity Overload Detected.]
[Warning: Items will be forcefully ejected at random intervals until storage is reduced to maximum capacity.]
Caleb grimaced but pushed the sacks into the system anyway. The message blinked furiously, but he ignored it, making a mental note, he'd stop along the way to unload and reload, resetting the interval before anything dangerous happened. He wasn't about to let fortune rain out of his pockets in front of strangers.
Satisfied, he buckled his gun belt, checked his knives, and gave himself one last glance in the mirror. He looked like a man ready to ride north, not one who'd just plundered Dutch's most secret stash.
Heading downstairs, Caleb spotted Mr. Burt behind the counter, wiping cups as usual. The old barkeep glanced up, his mustache twitching in a faint smile. Caleb set the key to his room down on the polished wood.
"Morning, Mr. Burt," he said warmly. "I'm returning the key. My time here's done."
Burt blinked, surprised. "Mr. Granger? You've still got a day left on that room. What's the hurry?"
Caleb shook his head, putting on a rueful smile. "Didn't find any work around here. Every ranch or shop's already full up, or else my skill set ain't what they need. Figure I'll take my chances further north, Strawberry, maybe Valentine. Folks up there might have more use for me."
The barkeep's face softened, and he nodded slowly. "Shame to see you go so soon, son. But I reckon you know your own path. Good luck to you, wherever it takes you."
"Appreciate it, Mr. Burt," Caleb replied, tipping his hat. With that, he strode out the saloon's main doors into the bright morning. Stark stood waiting at the hitching post, ears flicking. Caleb gave the horse a fond pat, mounted, and guided her northward. The streets of Blackwater rolled beneath him, cobblestone giving way to dirt, and soon the town was fading behind him.
...
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 (Lvl 3)
- Persuasion (Lvl 2)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 3)
- Teaching (Lvl 2)
- Germanic Language Proficiency (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 5x5x5)
- Acting (Lvl 2)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
Money: 1,977 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, land deed (Parcel), and four sacks of dollar bills and gold bars.
Bank: -