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He nodded back, a silent communication of acknowledgment, and moved past her into the resting area. There, in his usual chair by the window, sat Simon Strauss. He was hunched over his ledger, his spectacles perched on his nose, a cup of tea gone cold beside him.
"Strauss," Caleb said.
Strauss looked up, his sharp eyes blinking behind the lenses. He closed the ledger carefully. "Mr. Thorne. You have returned. Your business in Saint Denis required… an extension I see."
Caleb took the seat opposite him, the worn wood sighing in welcome. "It did. There's some unforeseen complications. Its profitable, but complicated. My apologies for the delay."
"No need, sir. So long as you are unharmed." Strauss's gaze was assessing, noting the fine cut of the now soiled suit, the new, sharp haircut, the subtle aura of changed authority that clung to Caleb.
"The documents from the Marlins arrived two days ago via secured courier. I have them in a safe here that I have jasper installed." He gestured toward a small, sturdy iron safe bolted to the floor behind the counter, where he took out the documents and showed it to Caleb.
"They appear to be in order. The corporate structure is established. 'Marlin Thorne Firearms Company.' Your equity is fifty one percent as agreed. Your official titles are Chairman of the Board and…" Strauss cleared his throat, "…the 'Chief Visionary Officer.' I must say it is a somewhat unconventional title, but I knew that you and the Marlins have agreed upon that name as it give you a… unique role in the company's future direction as well."
Caleb couldn't help but smile. Finally the proof of ownership have arrived, and now he officially thenoke in charge. His chief visionary officer was vague enough to give him wide latitude, yet specific in its implication of ultimate creative and strategic control. "Good. And the Strawberry lodge? Any movement on that front since you returned from there?"
"Theres no sort of sale news or any official news has been announced for the lodge in Strawberry yet," Strauss reported. "My discreet inquiries suggest Mayor Timmins is still trying to find someone to sel the lodge. He has not yet informed the town council, likely to avoid panic."
"Perfect." Caleb leaned back, lacing his fingers together. The pieces were aligning. The firearm empire was legally his. The Strawberry lodge was going to be his as well. The fortune from Saint Denis was his.
"We leave for Strawberry tomorrow at first light. I want to see the property, and I want to meet Mayor Timmins. Not as a hostile buyer, but as the town's potential savior. We'll present the vision for the new lodge. A partnership with the town, electricity from the waterfall, jobs, and lastly prestige."
Strauss made a note in his book. "I will prepare the initial architectural sketches and financial projections. And the… funds needed for such inquiry sir?"
"Are ready," Caleb confirmed. "We have enough funds to acurige and also fund the first phase of renovations ourselves. Show immediate, decisive action. That will galvanize Timmins and silence any local doubters when the deal was sealed."
Strauss nodded, a flicker of excitement in his usually placid eyes.
Caleb stood, and put the documents in his hand inside his satchel, where it goes to his inventory instantly. "I will keep the safe, now get some rest, Strauss. Tomorrow we start building in the daylight."
He left the accountant to his numbers and walked out of the restaurant through the front door, out into the fading afternoon light of Valentine.
He stood on the porch of his restaurant, watching his town go about its business. The sense of scale was dizzying. In Valentine, he was a property owner and a restaurateur. In New Haven, he was the majority owner of a historic firearms company.
In Strawberry, he was about to become a resort magnate. And in Saint Denis, he was a ghost with a senator's marker, a vault combination, and a fortune in secrets and cash, playing chess with crime lords and titans of industry.
He took a deep breath of the clean, dry air. The Saint Denis chapter was closed for now, a bloody, profitable interlude. Now, it was time to build. To take the ill gotten gains and the hard won influence and transmute them into something lasting, something powerful on its own terms.
Caleb let the moment stretch a second longer on the porch, committing the feeling to memory, the illusion of calm, the illusion of normalcy, before turning away from it.
Business first. Foundations mattered.
Power wasn't just about shadow games in a far off city, it was about the tangible here. And here, in Valentine, the law was personified by Sheriff Malloy.
So he stepped down from the porch and headed north along the main road, boots striking packed dirt in an easy, unhurried rhythm.
Valentine unfolded around him the way it always did, wagons creaking past, the smell of livestock and dust, a pair of ranch hands arguing loudly near the general store, laughter spilling out of the saloon even this early in the afternoon. This town was rough, imperfect, but it was his in ways Saint Denis would never be.
The Sheriff's office sat at the edge of the road, squat and solid, its wooden walls scarred by time and weather. Caleb pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Inside, the air smelled of coffee, leather, and gun oil. Two deputies, young men Caleb recognized as Ben and Eli, looked up from a game of checkers. Their expressions shifted from boredom to wary respect when they saw him.
"Afternoon, Caleb," Ben said, nodding. "Sheriff ain't in right now. Had to go settle a dispute over a stray calf down at the Abernathy place. Should be back soon."
"Anything serious you need, Caleb?" Eli asked, his hand unconsciously drifting toward the butt of his revolver. Caleb's reputation, while carefully managed, had a certain gravity.
Caleb offered an easy smile, disarming the tension. "Nothing serious, boys. Just dropping by for a chat. Wanted to see how the law's been keeping my favorite town in one piece."
Both deputies relaxed, chuckling. "Doin' our best," Ben said. "Quiet, mostly. 'Cept for that calf."
As if on cue, the door swung open and Sheriff Malloy stomped in, brushing dust from his coat. Hks hat tilted back mustache twitching as his eyes swept the room, and then landed on Caleb, causing his bushy eyebrows lifted.
"If it ain't Valentine's busiest man. Caleb Thorne. Back from your travels, I see. To what do I owe the pleasure? You have some bounties or informations you wanted to turned in?" His tone was gruff, but there was a familiar twinkle in his eye.
Caleb laughed. "No unfortunately, I don't do much bounty hunting anymore, Sheriff. I just come back to Valentine and pass your office, so I thought I'd stop in, say hello, and make a small donation to the cause."
Sheriff Malloy laughed, a deep, booming sound. "You and your donations. Come on then, take a seat." He gestured to the chair across from his desk. "And you know you don't have to do that, right?"
"I know," Caleb said, his tone sincere. "But I want to. Business has been good. The restaurant, my… other ventures. Valentine's been good to me. Seems right to give a little back, make sure the men keeping the peace have what they need."
Sheriff Malloy studied him for a long moment, then nodded his head. "Deputies, why don't you boys go make a round of the saloon? Make sure nobody's cheatin' at cards too obviously."
Ben and Eli took the hint, tipping their hats and heading out. Once they were alone, Sheriff Malloy sank into his own creaking chair. "Alright, son. What's really on your mind? You ain't just here for the scintillatin' conversation."
Caleb leaned back, the picture of relaxed confidence. "Honestly, Sheriff? I am. After the… intensity of the business world and travelling around, a normal conversation is a luxury. And I wanted to thank you. The restaurant runs smooth. No trouble. That's not an accident."
Sheriff Malloy poured two mugs of bitter coffee from a pot on the stove and slid one to Caleb. "Ain't no trouble 'cause you don't cause none. And you pay your small business taxes, and you treat people fair. Makes my job easier. But I appreciate the sentiment."
They talked for twenty minutes, about the weather, about the new foal at the stable, about the old days when Caleb had worn a deputy's badge briefly to help keep the peace in town and brought tbak that psycho killer. It was a reaffirmation of a quiet, mutual understanding.
As Caleb stood to leave, he reached into his satchel. From his inventory, he produced a thick stack of bills, 1,000 dollars. He laid it on the sheriff's desk with a soft thump.
"For gun maintenance. Horse feed. New ammunition. Maybe a new Repeater or two if the old ones are rattlin' too much." He met Sheriff Malloy's gaze. "A thriving town needs a well equipped law."
Sheriff Malloy raised an eyebrow, then chuckled as he took the stack. "You know, this makes the third donation you've made.
"Consider it an investment then," Caleb said mildly.
The Sheriff didn't touch the money immediately. He looked at it, then back at Caleb, his expression unreadable. Then a slow smile spread under his mustache.
He scooped the bills into a drawer without counting them. "Well now. That's mighty generous, Caleb. Mighty generous. Don't you worry about your… enterprise. We understand flexibility here in Valentine. Long as the peace is kept."
"The peace is my business, Sheriff," Caleb said, shaking the older man's hand firmly. "My only business."
"Take care of yourself, son," Sheriff Malloy said. "Valentine's better with you in it."
Caleb smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."
He left the office, the unspoken pact reinforced. The law in Valentine would look the other way, within reason, for the man who kept the town fed, employed, and now, armed its sheriff.
The rest of the day was a sanctuary. He returned to the hotel room, to Mary-Beth. They talked, really talked, without the specter of immediate danger.
He told her edited versions of his time in Saint Denis, the poker, the victory, the ambush framed as a random act of violence. She listened, her head on his shoulder, her presence a balm. They shared a simple dinner in their room, a world away from the grand feasts of the Grand Korrigan. The intimacy was deeper, more real.
The next morning, Caleb awoke with the dawn, feeling truly rested for the first time in days. He kissed the sleeping Mary-Beth's temple, then rose.
From his inventory, he retrieved one of Vincenzo's masterpieces, the charcoal herringbone suit, less intimidating than the black pinstripe, projecting prosperous reliability. As he dressed, Mary-Beth stirred.
She sat up, the sheets pooling around her, and blinked sleepily. Then her eyes widened. "Caleb Thorne… what in the world are you wearing?"
He turned, smoothing the lapels. "How do I look?"
She got out of bed, padding over to him in her nightdress.
She adjusted his tie, her fingers brushing his neck, her expression one of awe and amusement. "You look… like a railroad baron. Or a senator. Very fancy. And very, very handsome." She finished by straightening an imaginary speck of lint. "Now I'm worried the ladies of Strawberry won't let you leave."
He laughed, pulling her close for a proper, lingering kiss. "Only one lady's opinion matters," he murmured against her lips. "And she's right here."
After a final embrace, he hefted the empty leather suitcase from the Saint Denis bank. In the quiet hallway outside his room, he focused. From his inventory, 30,000 dollars in bundled bills materialized inside the case. He closed and latched it, the weight a satisfying promise.
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 8/10
- Agility: 8/10
- Perception: 9/10
- Stamina: 8/10
- Charm: 8/10
- Luck: 9/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl MAX)
- Rifle (Lvl MAX)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl MAX)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl MAX)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 2)
- Sneaking (Lvl MAX)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl MAX)
- Poker (Lvl MAX)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl MAX)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 2)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 4)
- Bow (Lvl 3)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 4)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 3)
- Crafting (Lvl MAX)
- Persuasion (Lvl MAX)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl MAX)
- Teaching (Lvl 3)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 10x10x10)
- Acting (Lvl MAX)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Business (Lvl 1)
- Leadership (Lvl 1)
Money: 3,465 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 251,892 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 65 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, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, 1 Ruby, 1 Braithwaites Land Deed, 1 Broken Pirate Sword, 1 Milton's Safety Deposit Key, 1 Senator Pendleton Sealed Envelope, & Proof Of Marlin-Thorne Firearms Co.
Bank: -