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...
Some were too isolated, suspiciously so. The kind of place that made lawmen curious. Others were too open, wide plains that left no room to hide if trouble came calling. A few were promising but too small, hemmed in by natural barriers that would make expansion difficult.
"This ain't easy," Arthur muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.
Caleb shook his head. "Never is."
They rode west next.
The land there changed gradually. Rolling plains broken up by gentle rises, clusters of trees scattered like deliberate brushstrokes. The soil looked rich. Grass thick and green. Enough cover to disappear if needed, but open enough to breathe.
They slowed without meaning to.
Caleb reined Morgan in, eyes scanning the horizon. Arthur did the same.
"This," Arthur said quietly, "feels different."
Caleb nodded. "Yeah."
They rode deeper into the area, dismounting near a slight incline. From there, the view opened up, open fields perfect for grazing, a small natural treeline forming a loose boundary, and beyond that, gentle hills that would block distant sightlines without boxing them in. Not dense enough to feel claustrophobic. Not barren enough to be obvious.
Arthur whistled softly. "Hell…"
Caleb walked a few steps, crouched, ran his fingers through the soil.
"Good land," he said. "You could build here. Big house. Storage. Barns."
Arthur walked farther out, shading his eyes. "Livestock wouldn't run outta pasture. Plenty of room. Chickens, cows… pigs if Pearson ever figures out how not to poison us."
Caleb smirked.
Arthur turned slowly, taking it all in. "And it ain't so close to town that folks would ask questions… but close enough to ride in without makin' a day of it."
"Exactly," Caleb said.
They stood there for a long moment.
Not speaking.
Just imagining.
A house big enough for everyone. Not tents. Not damp bedrolls. Real walls. A kitchen that didn't rely on scavenged scraps. A place where Mary-Beth could write without fear of being overheard. Where Jack could grow up knowing more than gunfire and running.
Arthur exhaled slowly. "This is it."
Caleb looked at him. "You sure?"
Arthur nodded once, firm. "If there's a place worth tryin' for… it's this."
They didn't mark it. Didn't ask around. Didn't linger longer than necessary.
They mounted back up and turned east.
The ride back was longer.
Not because the distance had changed, but because the weight of what they'd found settled in.
They retraced their path, Cumberland Forest swallowing them in green, Moonstone Pond glinting briefly through the trees, the Three Sisters rising silent and immovable in the distance. O'Creagh's Run reflected the sky like glass as they passed.
Neither spoke much.
Arthur stayed alert, scanning ridgelines, hands loose near his reins. Caleb rode with a steady calm, eyes sharp but mind clearly turning over plans, possibilities, contingencies.
By the time Roanoke Valley came into view, the sun was beginning its slow descent.
Charles spotted them first.
He stood from his post near the camp's edge, rifle resting against his shoulder. Sean lounged nearby, half bored, half vigilant.
"Well I'll be damned," Sean called out. "Look who survived civilization."
Arthur smirked. "Miss us?"
"Terribly," Sean replied dryly.
Caleb nodded to Charles. "All quiet?"
"So far," Charles said. "No trouble."
They dismounted, hitched their horses, and moved quickly through camp. The place felt… steadier than when they'd left. People talked. Laughed, even. Dutch's tent remained guarded, but the tension around it had dulled from raw panic to wary acceptance.
They found Hosea near the edge of camp, just as Arthur had expected.
He sat on a crate, coffee cup in one hand, cigarette in the other, smoke curling lazily upward. The forest framed him like a painting, old, weathered, but unbroken.
He looked up as they approached and smiled.
"Back already," Hosea said. "That was quicker than I expected."
Arthur rolled his shoulders. "Found what we needed."
Hosea's eyes sharpened. "Before that—" he took a sip of coffee, "—tell me. The business. How was it?"
Arthur let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Caleb undersold it."
Caleb shot him a look. "I did not."
"You did," Arthur insisted. He turned to Hosea. "That restaurant ain't small. It's packed. Constant traffic. Clean. Organized. Profits gotta be huge."
Hosea's eyebrows lifted slightly. "That so?"
Arthur nodded. "Full all day. Didn't slow down 'til night. Folks respect him there. Townspeople. Workers. They trust him."
Hosea looked at Caleb thoughtfully. "You built somethin' real."
Caleb inclined his head. "That was the idea."
Arthur continued, "And it ain't flashy. It blends in. Looks like it belongs. Which means it ain't drawin' the wrong kind of attention."
Hosea exhaled slowly, pleased. "Good. Very good."
He took another drag of his cigarette. "And the land?"
Arthur and Caleb exchanged a glance.
Caleb spoke first. "We found a place."
Hosea straightened slightly. "Go on."
"West of Valentine," Caleb said. "Outskirts. Open plains mixed with tree clusters. Good soil. Natural cover. Enough room to build big. Enough distance to not raise suspicion."
Arthur added, "Perfect for livestock. Farming. Expansion if needed."
Hosea listened intently, nodding along.
"You didn't ask around," he said.
"No," Caleb replied. "Just looked."
"Good," Hosea said. "Smart."
He stared out at the trees for a moment, silent.
"This," he said finally, "is the first time in a long while that I've heard a plan that doesn't end with us buried or run out."
Arthur snorted softly. "Don't jinx it."
Hosea smiled faintly. "I won't."
He looked at Caleb. "Next step is talkin' to the others. Carefully. This has to be everyone's choice."
Caleb nodded. "I know."
"And the chest," Hosea continued. "That money could make this real."
Arthur frowned slightly. "Assumin' the heat's really off."
Caleb met his gaze. "With Ross dead and Milton missin', the Pinkertons are in chaos. Not gone. But distracted."
Hosea tapped ash from his cigarette. "We'll confirm that. Quietly."
He stood then, stretching his back. "You both did good. Real good."
Arthur felt something settle in his chest at that. Approval, not from Dutch, not from a man obsessed with dreams and myths, but from Hosea. From someone who saw reality clearly.
As the evening deepened, word spread, slowly, carefully, that Arthur and Caleb had returned with good news. Not details. Just hope.
Later, as the camp settled, Arthur sat near the fire, watching sparks rise into the darkening sky.
Caleb joined him after a while, handing him a tin cup.
Arthur took it. "Coffee?"
"Yeah."
Arthur sipped, then glanced sideways. "You ever think you'd be doin' all this?"
Caleb smiled faintly. "Not like this."
Arthur stared into the fire. "If this works… it changes everything."
Caleb nodded. "That's the risk."
Arthur exhaled slowly. "Hell of a thing. Bein' hopeful."
Caleb clinked his cup lightly against Arthur's. "Get used to it."
Somewhere in the camp, Mary-Beth laughed softly. Pearson argued with Bill. Life went on.
And for the first time, it didn't feel like they were running out of road. It felt like they'd finally found one.
The day passed in a strange, quiet rhythm.
Not the tense quiet that had followed Blackwater, or the brittle calm after Rhodes. This was different. It was the kind of quiet that came from people being tired but not afraid, from a camp that had survived another storm and was, for the moment, allowed to breathe.
Arthur spent most of that afternoon doing little things. Checking his gear. Helping Charles reinforce a snare line. Sitting with Kieran and making small talk that didn't feel forced for once.
Dutch still tied in his tent, crazy, distant, where his presence still a weight even when unseen, but the camp no longer revolved around him the way it once had. People moved, talked, lived without constantly glancing toward his canvas walls.
Caleb noticed it too.
He watched from the edges, from the in-betweens. He saw how Hosea's voice carried more authority now. How Arthur's opinion mattered. How Mary-Beth listened more than she spoke, but when she did, people leaned in.
This was a camp in transition.
That night passed without incident. No shots. No alarms. Just the sounds of insects, low conversation, and the soft crackle of firewood.
And then came morning.
The sun had barely cleared the treeline when Hosea called for them.
Caleb and Arthur found him standing near the center of camp, close enough that everyone would hear, but not so close to Dutch's tent that it felt like a challenge. Hosea held his coffee cup loosely, untouched cigarette between his fingers, eyes sharp and thoughtful.
Arthur frowned slightly. "That don't sound casual."
"It ain't," Hosea replied.
He took a breath, then spoke plainly. "I want to tell everyone. About Valentine. About the land you two found."
Caleb went still.
Arthur turned to him immediately, reading his face. "You okay with that?"
Hosea noticed the exchange and raised a hand. "If you ain't, we hold off. Simple as that. We can talk first. Small group. Make sure you're comfortable."
For a moment, Caleb said nothing.
He looked around the camp. At Pearson stirring a pot that smelled marginally better than usual. At Bill trying to sharpen a knife and failing. At Jack chasing a beetle near the edge of the trees while Abigail watched, tense but smiling. At Mary-Beth, seated on a crate with her notebook, eyes already flicking toward them, curious.
"I'm okay with it," Caleb said finally.
Arthur searched his face. "You sure?"
Caleb nodded. "I want to be honest. They deserve that. I just… don't know how they'll take it."
Hosea stepped closer and rested a hand on Caleb's shoulder, firm and steady. "They'll understand."
Caleb glanced up at him.
Hosea continued, voice low. "Maybe once, some time ago, we'd have been angry. Might've felt betrayed. But that was when Dutch was still… steering us. Now?" He shook his head. "Now folks are tired. They're thinking. They know what Cornwall is. What exposure means."
Arthur snorted softly. "Yeah. Hiding a profitable business from Dutch ain't exactly a crime these days."
Hosea allowed himself a faint smile. "Exactly."
He squeezed Caleb's shoulder once, then withdrew his hand. "Mary-Beth already knows. And she kept it quiet. That tells me everything I need to know."
Caleb felt it then, a subtle shift, a quiet confirmation. Whatever skill, whatever instinct had guided his words and actions these past weeks, it had worked. Arthur and Hosea weren't just supportive anymore. They were firmly on his side.
"Alright," Caleb said. "Let's do it."
Hosea nodded once. Decision made.
He turned and raised his voice, cutting cleanly through the camp's morning noise.
"Everyone!"
Conversations faltered. Tools paused. Heads turned.
"I need everyone to gather around," Hosea continued. "Including guards. This is important."
There was a ripple of movement as people obeyed. Charles signaled the perimeter. Javier stepped away from Dutch's tent.
Mary-Beth stood, notebook tucked under her arm, and moved forward. Her gaze flicked briefly to Caleb. There was no surprise in it, only confirmation.
Within minutes, the camp formed a loose semicircle around Hosea, Arthur, and Caleb. Curious. Cautious. Hopeful, though many wouldn't have admitted it aloud.
Hosea waited until the murmurs died down.
"I won't waste your time," he began. "We've all been run hard these past months. We've lost friends. We've lost ground. And most of all, we've lost certainty."
A few heads nodded.
"But," Hosea continued, "there is somethin' you should all know. Somethin' that changes our options."
He gestured to Caleb. "Some of you know him as a good shot. Some of you know him as a thinker. What most of you don't know… is that Caleb owns a business."
...
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 4)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 4)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 4)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 4)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 3)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 3)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 2)
- Crafting (Lvl 3)
- Persuasion (Lvl 4)
- 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: 3,726 dollars and 10 cents
Inventory: 112,892 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
Bank: -