If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!
Go to https://www.patreon.com/Tang12
...
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, a careful smile playing at his lips. "Though if I may say this, Mr. Bronte, it sounds to me like those two bounties had prices on their heads because you wanted them gone. Maybe they were stirrin' up more trouble than they realized. They were damaging your business, weren't they?"
Bronte's reaction was immediate and theatrical. He clapped his hands three times, laughing in delight. "Incredibile! Magnifico! Eccezionale!" he exclaimed in Italian, his face alight with appreciation, as each word rolling off his tongue like fine wine. "You see? I knew it! A truly brilliant man. You saw through it all so easily! My, my, this only increases what I think of you. Perhaps the work I have in mind will not be so difficult after all!"
Caleb waved a hand modestly, playing the role of the humble professional. "Now, now, I was just guessin', Mr. Bronte. No need to think too much of it. But I do wonder what kind of work you'd have for me, since I reckon this ain't just a social call."
Bronte chuckled deeply, swirling the wine in his glass as he leaned forward slightly, voice lowering into a more businesslike tone. "No, of course not. Men like you and me, we do not waste each other's time.
He lifted his wineglass, swirling the liquid slowly before taking another sip. "There are two matters I would like you to handle for me, Signore McLaughlin. Two jobs, both profitable, both… delicate."
Caleb gestured for him to go on.
"The first," Bronte said, "is close to your recent interests. The cemetery." He exhaled through his nose, irritation flashing briefly in his eyes. "Some grave robbers, idioti senza cervello, the fools have been digging around places they should not. The cemetery is a sacred place for many… but for me, it also happens to contain certain things I would prefer remain unfound. Documents, old items, nothing you need concern yourself with. I simply want the rats cleaned out. Permanently."
Caleb's mind immediately flashed to the lockbox of cash and the six gold bars now safely in his inventory. He kept his face perfectly neutral. Then he nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "I've never been there before, but I have heard of it. The story of the place gives me the creeps. But I can handle it."
Bronte inclined his head approvingly. "Good. I like efficiency. The second job," he continued, "is simpler, but it requires discretion." He set his wineglass down and steepled his fingers. "You remember the other bounty board in the Saint Denis police station? Three names remain. Each of them, like the two you already captured, have been… interfering with my interests. Smuggling, robbing, attacking my associates. My own men are spread too thin to hunt them down personally. The police want them for justice. I want them gone for peace. You will, of course, be compensated handsomely for both, on top of the official bounties."
His dark eyes locked onto Caleb's. "I would prefer they be brought in alive, of course. It is good for appearances. But if they resist?" He shrugged slightly, spreading his hands. "Then, signore, dead will do just fine."
Caleb took another slow sip of his whiskey, the gears in his mind turning. The jobs made sense, two birds with one stone. He could clean the city's underbelly while mapping Bronte's influence firsthand. Dutch wanted information on the Italian's hold over Saint Denis, and this was the perfect chance to see just how deep it went.
He lowered the glass and nodded. "Sounds straightforward enough, Mr. Bronte. You get your peace, I get paid. What're the rewards for each?"
Bronte chuckled softly. "Ah, sempre il mercante, always the businessman." He reached into a drawer beside him and pulled out a small pouch, tossing it lightly onto the table. It landed with the soft clink of coins and the dull weight of folded bills. "Half up front, for trust. The rest when both tasks are done. If you do them well, there will be more work and more rewards."
Caleb reached forward, pulling the pouch open just enough to see the glint of coins mixed with crisp dollar bills, at least 200 dollars by his estimate. He closed it again and tucked it away in his coat. "Appreciate it. You've got yourself a deal, Mr. Bronte."
Bronte's eyes gleamed, and he leaned back with satisfaction. "Bene. Then we understand each other. I will have my men inform the police chief that you are authorized to pursue these bounties. The grave robbers… you may handle at your discretion. No need to involve the law in that one. I trust you can handle this without unnecessary noise?"
Caleb let out a nod. "Quiet's what I do best."
Bronte smiled again, that same chillingly cordial expression that always seemed to conceal more than it revealed. "I look forward to seeing what you accomplish, Signore McLaughlin. You strike me as a man who finishes what he starts. And that," he lifted his glass in a small toast, "is a quality I very much admire."
Caleb lifted his own glass, meeting the toast. "To mutual success."
They drank.
The whiskey burned smooth on the way down, and when Caleb set the glass aside, he saw Bronte watching him, smiling, but with a faint glimmer of calculation that never reached his eyes.
Moments later, Bronte snapped his fingers, and one of his guards stepped forward with Caleb's confiscated weapons neatly laid across a velvet lined tray. "Return the signore's belongings," Bronte ordered. "He will need them soon."
Caleb stood, reholstering his Navy revolvers, sheathing his Civil War knife, and slinging the Litchfield over his shoulder. He tipped his hat politely toward Bronte. "Been a pleasure, Mr. Bronte. I'll get right to work."
Bronte smiled approvingly. "Bene. Then we will speak again soon. You may leave your drink, Signore McLaughlin, or take it with you, if you like. Consider it a gift."
Caleb chuckled softly, finishing the last of his whiskey and setting the glass down. "Appreciate the offer, Mr. Bronte. Guess I'll be seein' you soon."
As he turned to leave, Bronte called out once more, the grin remained fixed as he leaned back once more. "Do so, amico mio. And remember, Saint Denis is a city of masks. Choose yours carefully."
Caleb nodded once. "Always do."
He turned and left the room, the soft echo of his boots on marble fading into the hallway. The servant led him back through the mansion, out past the iron gates, where Morgan waited patiently in the streetlight's glow.
He goes to gave her a pat while asking her she have been following him wen he was in the carriage huh, and then mounted up and rode away down the quiet, lamp lit streets, Caleb's mind raced with thoughts.
Two jobs. One crime lord. One would take him back into the cemetery, a place he had already disturbed, and the other into the dark underbelly of Saint Denis, where the police and Bronte's men played their endless game of shadows.
"Dutch wanted to know how far Bronte's reach goes," he muttered under his breath. "Guess I'm about to find out."
He spurred Morgan gently, heading toward the cemetery first, the night wind brushing against his face as Saint Denis began to fade behind him, its towers and lights gleaming like a trap laid out in gold.
Saint Denis was about to learn that when Caleb Thorne or McLaughlin, as they knew him, took a job, he finished it. No matter what ghosts or gangsters stood in his way.
Caleb rode at a brisk trot through the moon-drenched streets of Saint Denis, his coat flaring behind him as the rhythmic clatter of Morgan's hooves echoed against cobblestone.
The night air was cool, crisp, and heavy with that faint metallic tang that always lingered near the city's canals. He'd left Bronte's mansion behind on the southern edge of town, and the cemetery lay at the far northeastern corner, a long ride through winding streets that slowly emptied of life the farther he went.
Gas lamps flickered at every corner, their glow diffused through the mist rolling in from the bayou. The city's glamour dulled into something ghostly at this hour, the lavish estates turned to silhouettes, and the grand facades of shops and theaters took on a hollow, haunted sheen. Morgan's breath puffed out in white clouds, steady and strong beneath him.
When the wrought iron gates of the Saint Denis cemetery finally came into view, he slowed her to a gentle trot. The same spot. The same hitching post he'd used last night during his treasure hunt. He swung down from the saddle and patted her neck softly.
"You remember this place, huh?" he murmured, voice low and calm. "Same spot, same post. Don't you dare pull free again, you hear? I'll be back before long."
Morgan snorted, stamping lightly, as if in agreement. Caleb gave her a final pat, looping her reins tight around the post, making sure she couldn't slip free. The fog drifted in low waves around her legs. Satisfied, he turned toward the gate, pushing it open with a faint groan of iron hinges.
The smell of damp earth and old stone hit him immediately. Inside, the cemetery stretched out like a labyrinth of the dead, rows upon rows of graves, statues, and mausoleums gleaming faintly beneath the lamp glow. The mist clung to everything, softening edges, distorting distance.
Caleb crouched slightly and drew his Civil War knife, its blade catching a faint shimmer of light. Then he activated the map function, a subtle overlay flickering in his vision as glowing blue lines traced the paths of the cemetery's layout. He was going to sweep it clean, east to west, methodically.
He toggled on his Sneak Skill, feeling that quiet shift in his body as his movements grew lighter, his footsteps more measured. Every sound in the world around him grew sharper, his senses dialed in by his Perception stat, 8 out of 10, high enough to pick out even the faintest disturbances.
The cemetery was far from silent. The chirping of insects mixed with the distant croak of frogs. A rat scurried past his boot, and his hand almost twitched to strike before he steadied himself with a silent exhale. He could distinguish them now, the skittering of small claws on stone versus the dull crunch of a human step on gravel.
He moved deeper, gliding between monuments and crypts, keeping low and hugging shadows. The tall gravestones and angel statues restricted his line of sight, forcing him to weave carefully. Every now and then, he paused, listening. A distant metallic clink. A faint murmur of voices carried on the mist.
When he reached the cemetery's center, the air grew thicker, colder. The graves here were far grander, ornate headstones, elaborate marble sculptures, even small mausoleums with engraved doors. And then he heard it, clearer, the unmistakable metallic ring of shovels and pickaxes striking stone, followed by the muffled snickering of men.
Caleb froze, crouching behind a wide monument and closing his eyes briefly, letting his hearing guide him. Four distinct voices. Laughter. The sound of digging.
"…I'm tellin' you, this one's the jackpot," one man said, his voice eager and hoarse. "These fancy bastards got jewelry, maybe even some gold teeth if we're lucky."
Another man scoffed. "Gold teeth? Hell, I just want enough to get the hell outta this city. This could be our last job if we do it right."
"Yeah, if we live through it," a third muttered nervously. "Don't forget who owns this place. Bronte don't like no one touchin' what's his. If he finds out, we'll be swimmin' with the fishes at the docks… or feedin' gators in the swamp."
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 7/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 6/10
- Luck: 8/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 4)
- Rifle (Lvl 4)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 4)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 3)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 3)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 4)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 3)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 3)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 2)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 1)
- Crafting (Lvl 3)
- Persuasion (Lvl 3)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 4)
- Teaching (Lvl 2)
- Germanic Language Proficiency (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 10x10x10)
- Acting (Lvl 3)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
Money: 2,871 dollars and 25 cents
Inventory: 104,369 dollars and 72 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 64 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, & 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box
Bank: -