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...
But accepting the offer was a political courtesy, a way to bond with the mayor and be seen by the townsfolk as a partner, not a distant absentee owner. "I would appreciate that greatly. Herr Strauss," he said, switching back to English, "you know what to do."
"Perfectly, sir," Strauss said, already opening his own case of documents and preparing to work with Cecil.
Mayor Timmins led Caleb out of the lodge and into the bright midday sun of Big Valley. The tour began. Caleb played his part perfectly, asking thoughtful questions, expressing admiration for the stunning scenery, nodding at the right moments as Mayor Timmins pointed out the general store while saying, "We get supplies every fortnight!", the small post office, the modest chapel. They walked along the river, the thunder of the waterfall a constant companion.
As they walked, townsfolk stopped to stare. Word had already spread, the fancy man in the fine suit who arrived in a private coach was buying the lodge and investing big.
Hopes, which have been long dormant, began to stir inside the townsfolk. Caleb made a point of tipping his hat, offering a "Good afternoon," his demeanor one of approachable authority.
Mayor Timmins, basking in the reflected importance, chattered on. "And over there, Mr. Thorne, is where we've thought of putting a proper picnic area. And just beyond those pines, the trout fishing is exceptional. Why, I caught a five pounder just last..."
Caleb listened, offering appropriate murmurs of interest, but his mind was elsewhere. He was assessing.
He noted the sturdy construction of the older buildings, the potential expansion sites, the route where pipes from a Pelton wheel could be run. He saw the faces of the people, hardworking, curious, hopeful. A willing workforce. He saw the land, not just as scenery, but as a resource.
The tour culminated at the base of the magnificent waterfall, the heart of Strawberry's beauty and the key to his plan. The spray misted the air, and the roar was deafening.
"Magnificent, isn't it?" Mayor Timmins shouted over the noise, his face full of pride.
Caleb didn't need to shout. His voice, calm and carrying, cut through the din as he looked not at the mayor, but at the cascading water with the eyes of an engineer.
"It's more than magnificent, Mayor. It's power. Untapped, constant, clean power. That waterfall will light every room in the new lodge, run modern appliances, and, as promised, bring electric light to the streets of Strawberry. It will be the engine of your renaissance."
Mayor Timmins stared at him, then at the waterfall, seeing it not just as nature's postcard, but as a dynamo. The concept was so audacious, so modern, it stole his breath. In that moment, any last reservation vanished. He wasn't just selling a failing business, he was handing the future of his town to a visionary.
As they walked back towards the lodge, the afternoon sun beginning to slant through the pines, Caleb knew the deal was already
As soon dusk settled, lamplight flickered on, dim, oil fed, unreliable. Caleb imagined electric bulbs glowing warmly instead, illuminating the street, drawing travelers like moths.
Soon enough, they returned to the lodge. Cecil and Strauss were already hard at work inside, papers spread across a table, ink bottles uncorked, ledgers open. The atmosphere had shifted entirely. What had once been a failing venture now felt like the heart of a transformation.
Hours later, the final document was laid out. Mayor Timmins signed with a trembling but resolute hand. Cecil followed. Then Caleb took the pen.
The moment his signature dried, Strauss took the documents of ownership, while Caleb reached for the suitcase. "Gentlemen," he said, setting it down once more. "As promised."
Caleb unlocked the suitcase once more and counted out the eight thousand dollars precisely. Mayor Timmins accepted it with trembling hands, as though afraid it might vanish if he blinked too hard.
The money exchanged hands, not as theft, not as desperation, but as the clean transfer of responsibility from one era to another.
When it was done, Mayor Timmins exhaled deeply, smiling like a man who had just set down an unbearable weight.
"Welcome to Strawberry," he said again. "Properly."
Caleb closed the suitcase, stood, and offered his hand. "I won't let you regret this."
Later that night, as Caleb settled into the best room the lodge had to offer, he gazed out over the darkened town. Somewhere below, the creek whispered its endless promise of power and progress.
He was thinking of the next steps, the architects from Blackwater, the engineers for the water turbine, the luxury fittings to be imported, and he felt a profound sense of forward motion.
The blood stained gold of Saint Denis was being washed clean in the sparkling waters of Strawberry, transformed into something that would stand for a hundred years.
The next day, Caleb woke up seeing the strange ceiling his room had, the unfamiliar wooden beams and slightly uneven craftsmanship immediately reminding him that he was no longer in Saint Denis, nor Valentine, but in Strawberry.
For a brief moment, his mind hovered in that liminal space between sleep and wakefulness, where past lives and present realities liked to blur together. Then the sound of the creek outside, soft, persistent, and alive, anchored him fully.
Strawberry.
Caleb exhaled slowly and pushed himself upright, sitting on the side of the bed. He rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms back until his joints popped softly.
The bed really was better than it had any right to be, soft without being indulgent, sturdy without creaking, the kind of bed chosen by people who valued function but still wanted guests to feel welcome. A small, telling detail. Strawberry had always been trying. It just never had enough.
He stood, crossed the room, and washed his face in the basin, the cold water fully banishing the last of his sleep. Then he turned back toward the chair where he had laid his clothes the night before.
Gone was the simple outfit he had changed into for rest. Today, he slipped back into the same fine suit he had worn yesterday, pressed trousers, clean shirt, vest, and jacket, all understated but unmistakably expensive. Appearances mattered. Especially now.
Once dressed, Caleb crouched and opened the wardrobe, his eyes immediately finding the suitcase tucked neatly inside. He pulled it out just enough to confirm its weight, then opened it briefly. The remaining twenty two thousand dollars lay exactly where it should be, stacked neatly, untouched.
Good.
He closed the suitcase, slid it back into place, and gave the room one last glance before leaving. The lodge creaked faintly as he stepped into the hallway, the wood settling like an old man adjusting in his chair. Morning light filtered through the windows, painting the interior in warm golds and soft browns.
Descending the stairs, Caleb heard the quiet murmur of the lobby before he saw it. When his boots reached the final step, Cecil turned from the reception desk, posture straightening almost instinctively.
"Good morning, Mr. Thorne," Cecil greeted with a polite smile. "I hope you had a good rest in the room."
Caleb nodded once, returning the smile with an easy calm. "Good morning, Cecil. I slept well. Very well, actually."
He glanced around the lobby as he spoke, taking it in with new eyes. It was his now, even if the transformation hadn't begun yet.
"The room doesn't have much of a wow factor," Caleb continued mildly as he walked over and took a seat on the sofa, "but it's comfortable. And the bed, surprisingly soft, all things considered."
Cecil chuckled softly. "At least the mayor and I didn't choose the wrong beds when the lodge was built."
Caleb smiled at that, a small sound of amusement escaping him as he leaned back into the cushions. "That, you certainly did right."
A moment later, footsteps sounded from the stairs again. Strauss appeared, descending carefully, his suit immaculate as always, his expression composed but alert. He adjusted his spectacles as he reached the lobby floor.
"Good morning, gentlemen." Strauss greeted.
"Good morning," Cecil replied.
Caleb nodded. "Morning, Herr Strauss."
Strauss gave Cecil a polite nod before crossed the lobby and took a seat beside Caleb on the sofa, setting his own case neatly at his feet. For a brief moment, he regarded Caleb with a thoughtful look, then switched languages without warning.
"Seit wann können Sie Deutsch sprechen, Herr Thorne?" (Since when can you speak German, Mr. Thorne?)
"Gestern haben Sie mich vollkommen überrascht," he continued. (Yesterday you completely took me by surprise.)
Caleb's lips curved upward, and he answered without hesitation, smoothly, equally fluent in German.
"Seit Saint Denis. Ich habe es dort gelernt."" he said.
(Since Saint Denis. I learned it there.)
Strauss blinked, clearly caught off guard again, though this time his surprise was mixed with amusement.
"Das erklärt einiges," Strauss said dryly. (That explains quite a lot.)
Caleb continued, still in German, his tone conversational.
"Es gab einen Deutschen dort. Ich habe ihn vor ein paar Gesetzlosen gerettet, draußen an der Stadtgrenze. Er hatte kein Geld, nichts Wertvolles. Also bot er mir an, mir seine Sprache beizubringen."
(There was a German man there. I saved him from a couple of outlaws on the outskirts of Saint Denis. He had no money, nothing of value. So he offered to teach me his language.)
Strauss listened closely, nodding.
"Ich dachte mir," Caleb went on, "warum nicht? Als Geschäftsmann schadet es nicht, mehr Sprachen zu sprechen. Es lässt einen… überzeugender wirken."
(I thought to myself, why not? As a businessman, it doesn't hurt to know more languages. It makes one… more convincing.)
He glanced sidelong at Strauss, a knowing look in his eye.
"Wie wir gestern gesehen haben." (As we saw yesterday.)
Strauss allowed himself a short laugh, then switched back to English, shaking his head slightly. "You learn very fast, Mr. Thorne."
Caleb inclined his head. "I try to."
At that moment, the front door opened, and Mayor Timmins stepped into the lodge, brushing dust from his coat. He looked more rested than he had the day before, lighter somehow, as though signing those papers had removed a great weight from his shoulders.
"Good morning, gentlemen," the mayor greeted warmly.
"Good morning, Mayor," Strauss said.
Caleb stood as Mayor Timmins approached. "Good morning."
Mayor Timmins clasped his hands together. "I was just about to ask, I take it you are leaving town today, Mr. Thorne?"
"Yes," Caleb replied evenly. "I am. I was waiting for you, actually, to say goodbye."
He gestured toward Strauss as he spoke. "I've also handed over the renovation funds to my accountant here, Herr Strauss. He'll be staying in Strawberry until the renovation is finished."
As if on cue, Strauss placed a hand lightly on the suitcase now resting beside his leg.
"He has the full list of materials to procure," Caleb continued, "and the architectural designs I want followed. Everything is already planned."
Mayor Timmins nodded, understanding written clearly across his face. "Of course, Mr. Thorne. I admit, I'm sad to see you go so soon, but I understand. A man like you has many obligations."
He straightened slightly, then added, "Don't worry. Mr. Strauss will be very safe here in Strawberry. I've already spoken to the sheriff. One or two deputies will accompany him whenever he's out and about."
Caleb's expression softened into a genuinely satisfied smile. "That's an excellent initiative, Mayor. I appreciate it greatly. Herr Strauss is a very important associate of mine. His safety is paramount."
Strauss inclined his head in quiet acknowledgment.
"And once the renovation is finished," Caleb added, his voice measured but confident, "I will be injecting more funds into Strawberry. This is only the beginning."
Mayor Timmins' face lit up, gratitude plain. "Thank you, Mr. Thorne. Truly."
With that, the moment came to a natural close. Caleb shook the mayor's hand firmly, then nodded once to Cecil.
"My time in Strawberry is finished for now," Caleb said. "But I'll be back."
He turned and exited the lodge, the morning sun greeting him as he stepped outside. The stagecoach was already waiting, positioned neatly in front of the lodge, the driver standing beside it with the door held open. Caleb descended the steps, boots crunching softly against the dirt. Before entering, he paused and turned back toward Strauss.
"I'll be sending three trusted builders," Caleb said. "Their names will be George, Seth, and Elias. They are skilled builders and completely trustworthy. They will serve as your foremen for the labor crews. Rely on them."
...
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: -