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After a while, he turned back toward camp. The night had begun to creep in, and the faint smell of stew and tobacco drifted through the air. Laughter echoed faintly near the campfire, Uncle's lazy drawl mixing with Sean's boisterous tone. The kind of sound that once made him feel at home. Now it just reminded him how fragile all of it was.
When he returned, Mary-Beth was there, sitting by the fire, already changed her dress as she wear one of the dresses he'd bought her, a soft blue one that made her look even more gentle in the dim firelight. She looked up when he approached and smiled warmly.
"How'd it go?" she asked softly.
Caleb sat down beside her, stretching his legs toward the fire. "It went as how I expected it," he said dryly. "Dutch got what he wanted. Let's just hope he don't do nothin' stupid with it."
Mary-Beth tilted her head, frowning a little. "It nos that I don't trust Dutch anymore, but I think he will do that. Do you think he will, Caleb?"
Caleb glanced toward Dutch's tent, where the faint glow of a lamp flickered inside. "He's Dutch," he said simply. "You know how he gets when he smells money and power. Something that he would like to take for himself, then for the gang."
She was quiet for a moment, then reached over and squeezed his hand gently. "Just… be careful, alright? I don't want to see you get caught in the middle of whatever he's planning. Especially if it's intended to put you... in harm's way."
Caleb turned to her, his features softening. "I'll be fine. I've handled worse, and I know a trap when I see one."
Mary-Beth smiled faintly. "That's what you always say, but please don't let you guards down."
The night deepened around them. The crickets grew louder, the fire crackled softly, and the rest of the camp gradually drifted into quieter tones. Dutch stayed in his tent, Hosea sat with Arthur talking in low voices, Sadie was cleaning her guns by the wagon, humming under her breath, and the others are doing what they usually do.
Caleb sat there for a long time with Mary-Beth, feeling the warmth of the fire, the comfort of the camp, and the weight of what he knew was coming. His thoughts turned to Bronte again, the man who ruled Saint Denis, the man Dutch was now obsessing over.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes narrowing slightly as he stared into the flames. "If Dutch goes after Bronte soon without much planning," he murmured quietly, "then everything's gonna change. The gang, Saint Denis… maybe even the two of us."
Mary-Beth glanced over at him, concern flickering in her eyes, but didn't press him. She knew better than to interrupt his thoughts.
As the fire crackled, the sounds of the bayou echoing softly in the distance, Caleb's mind kept working, planning, anticipating, and preparing. He knew the timeline of the game. He knew what was supposed to happen next.
But the world had already shift in many ways from the original story that it have branches. His actions were changing things, including Dutch's reactions, the gang's cohesion, even Bronte's awareness of them, all changed because he do it accidentally or not.
Dutch would eventually drag them into Bronte's world, no matter what he said tonight. But when that time came, Caleb intended to make sure it didn't end the same way it had in the game, with blood and betrayal under the glowing lights of Saint Denis
He'd make sure to play his cards right and doesn't calculate it wrong. The firelight danced across his eyes as he stared ahead, determination settling into his bones like steel. The gang might not realize it yet, but the real game that tested their unity was about to begin.
After that, Caleb stood up, brushing the dust from his pants. The motion made Mary-Beth rise instinctively too, as though pulled by an invisible string tied to his movements. Her soft blue dress shimmered faintly under the firelight, catching the glow in waves of light and shadow.
Caleb turned to her, his usual stoic expression softening. He reached out and gently brushed the top of her head, ruffling her hair a bit before patting it tenderly.
"You should go to sleep," he said quietly, his tone carrying a calm authority that only came when he truly cared. "It's late. Don't worry yourself too much. Whatever I muttered earlier, just forget it. I'll handle things. I'll protect you, and everyone here. That's my promise. So don't lose sleep over me."
Mary-Beth frowned, clearly not convinced. The firelight flickered across her face, showing the concern written there as plain as day. "Caleb… I just—" she hesitated, her voice soft but uncertain. "You always tell me not to worry, but how can I not? You carry too much for everyone."
Caleb gave her a faint smile, his eyes warm but tired. "Someone's gotta do it. And if I can keep you and the rest of 'em safe, then I'll carry that weight. So, just rest easy, alright?"
Mary-Beth's eyes softened with worry. She hesitated, her lips parting like she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. There was a flicker of pain in her gaze, that helpless kind of feeling when you want to help someone but don't know how.
After a moment, she nodded slowly. "Alright," she said softly, "but…" She stepped closer, lifting a hand to his cheek and patting it gently. "Please, you should rest too, Caleb. Don't think too much about everything. You already carry enough weight for one man. I've never seen anyone care so much for this gang other than Hosea and Arthur."
Her voice softened even more as a sgentle smile showed in her face. "Seeing that you share that same heart… it makes me certain I didn't fall in love with the wrong person."
Caleb couldn't help the small smile that formed. The warmth in her eyes eased some of the cold weight in his chest. He leaned forward slightly and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Thank you," he whispered. "And I love you too, Mary-Beth."
She smiled, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, then turned to leave. As she walked toward the tents, her silhouette swayed lightly, fading into the dim glow of the campfire.
Caleb lingered for a moment, watching her disappear into the dark. He was fighting for her. For a future. Then a voice broke through the silence.
"Hey, Caleb!"
He turned and saw Arthur standing with Sadie near Strauss's wagon. The two of them were in mid conversation, the soft glow of a lantern illuminating their faces. Arthur gestured for him to come over. Caleb walked toward them, brushing the dust from his coat as he did.
Caleb sighed softly and started toward them. "What's up, Arthur?"
Arthur didn't answer immediately. He struck a match, lit a cigarette, and took a slow drag before offering one to Caleb and then to Sadie. "Smoke?"
"Sure," Caleb said, taking one. Sadie did too, flicking her knife shut and sliding it into her boot before leaning against the wagon. Arthur lit theirs, and for a moment, the three of them stood in silence, the only sound the crackle of the fire and the chirping of crickets.
Caleb took a drag, exhaling slowly. "So," he said, turning to Sadie. "You know why he called us out here?"
Sadie shook her head. "Nope. He called me over first, then you, after he saw you were done playin' sweet with Mary-Beth." She gave him a teasing smirk, but it faded quickly as her eyes shifted back to Arthur. "So, what's this about, Morgan?"
Caleb arched a brow and looked back at Arthur, a silent demand for an explanation."
Arthur took another long puff, the glow of the cigarette tip flaring in the dark before he spoke. "Other than Charles," he said slowly, his voice low and thoughtful, "I figure the two of you are the most level headed folks left in this camp. I know you'll have my back if things go south, and that you'll tell me the truth to my face. And I need to know what you think, where this gang's headin'. Because…" He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "I ain't sure Dutch knows anymore."
The words hung heavy in the night air.
The question, so blunt and direct, surprised both Caleb and Sadie. They exchanged a quick, knowing glance. Sadie was the first to recover, her voice sharp with pent up frustration.
"Well, I'll tell you where it's headin'," Sadie said, spitting to the side. "Straight into a goddamn wall. I've said it plenty of times already, and I'll say it again, Dutch's been leadin' us into trouble for weeks. Hell, that whole mess back in Rhodes? That was a damn fool plan from the start."
Arthur nodded grimly. "The Braithwaites and the Grays…"
Sadie's voice sharpened, her anger spilling over. "Yeah! What kind of plan is it to use dynamite on two powerful families while tryin' to stay discreet? Discreet! The man's lost his damn mind. You don't blow up people's property and expect 'em not to notice!"
Caleb couldn't help it, a short chuckle slipped past his lips, though it was laced more with disbelief than amusement. He took another puff from his cigarette, the ember glowing briefly in the dark. "You've got a point there," he muttered.
Arthur gave a tired sigh. "You ain't wrong, Sadie. Not one bit. But it's gettin' worse." He then turned his tired eyes to Caleb. "I already got a pretty good idea what you think, Caleb. But I wanna hear it. I know Dutch had you lookin' into that fella, Angelo Bronte, while you were in Saint Denis. The one that Braithwaite hag was gonna sell Jack to. I know you reported to him tonight. He's got that look in his eye again. The one that means he's concocted some new 'masterpiece'."
Caleb nodded slowly. "That's right," he said. "That's right. Dutch wanted me to find out what I could about Bronte, who he was, what kinda operation he ran. I did what he asked. Gave him the info I gathered when I got back. The man runs Saint Denis' underworld like it's his personal kingdom. Every politician, every cop, every piece of business that matters, all of it runs through him."
Sadie let out a low whistle. "Damn. Sounds like a man who don't like competition."
"He doesn't," Caleb said. "And Dutch… well, Dutch already started thinkin' on how to take advantage of him. He's got ideas, dangerous ones. He's tryin' to take advantage of Bronte. Tryin' to make money off him somehow."
Arthur's brow furrowed. "You mean… Dutch's plannin' to deal with Bronte?"
Caleb nodded again. "That's what it looks like. Problem is, when I tried to talk him out of it, told him Bronte's not just another outlaw but someone far more dangerous, he got angry. Told me not to sway him. Said I should just follow his lead."
Arthur took another drag, his expression hardening. "Figures. He said the same to me and Hosea when we told him not to mess with the Grays and Braithwaites."
"Same words?" Sadie asked.
"'Don't question my lead,'" Arthur quoted bitterly. "He l 'Have some goddamn faith,' 'I just need you to follow my lead.' It's like he can't hear reason no more. All he hears is the echo of his own voice." He looked down at the ground, the ember of his cigarette glowing bright before fading again. "He's startin' to sound like a man who don't wanna hear reason anymore."
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 7/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 7/10
- 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 4)
- 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 3)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 2)
- Crafting (Lvl 3)
- Persuasion (Lvl 3)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 4)
- Teaching (Lvl 2)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 10x10x10)
- Acting (Lvl 4)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
Money: 3,655 dollars and 10 cents
Inventory: 104,669 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, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, & 1 Ruby
Bank: -