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"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."
A wave of stunned silence washed over the group, followed by a burst of overlapping reactions.
"A restaurant?" Pearson squawked, his chef's pride instantly engaged and affronted.
"You've been a…a businessman?" Strauss murmured, adjusting his glasses, his financial mind whirring.
"Is this a joke?"Bill grumbled, though he looked more confused than angry.
Karen and Tilly exchanged wide eyed looks. Mary-Beth simply smiled, a soft, proud smile directed at Caleb.
Hosea raised a hand for quiet. "Let him explain."
All eyes turned to Caleb. He took a small step forward, meeting their gazes without flinching. "It's true. I bought the land, built the place, and hired good people to work and run it for me. It turns a strong, clean profit. I kept it secret because… well, you all know why. In the wrong hands, that information could've been used to drag us all into somethin' reckless, or burned it to the ground out of spite. It's a place of… peace. Normalcy. Something we haven't had."
His words, simple and honest, did the work. The initial shock began to morph into understanding. They did know why. They had lived under the shadow of that "wrong hands" for quite some time from Blackwater.
"Arthur saw it," Caleb said, nodding to his friend. "He can tell you."
Arthur cleared his throat. "It's real. Packed with townsfolk. Good food, damn good food. It's not a front. It's a… a foundation. Caleb's got a good man runnin' it, loyal. The money's clean. It's the kinda place you walk into and forget you're wanted."
The description, coming from the notoriously skeptical Arthur, held immense weight. If Arthur Morgan was impressed by a restaurant, it was a marvel.
Hosea let that settle before continuing. "That business opens doors. Not just money. Options."
"The second reason they went," Hosea picked up, steering the conversation forward, "was to look for land. Not for a camp. For a home. And they found it."
A new, electric tension filled the air. A home. The word was a spell.
"West of Valentine," Hosea said. "Good acreage. Mix of pasture and woods. Room to build a proper house. Room for barns, livestock, a garden. It's secluded enough for privacy, close enough to town for supplies. It's a place we could settle. Put down roots. Live without packin' up every few weeks."
The vision he painted was so vivid, so antithetical to their current existence, that for a moment, no one spoke. They were all trying to fit themselves into the picture, Sadie tending to chickens, Charles breaking horses in a proper corral, Jack running through a grassy field without someone telling him to keep quiet.
"Now," Hosea said, his tone turning practical, "there are hurdles. The bounties. Cornwall. But the main hunters on our tail, the Pinkerton agents Ross and Milton, are out of the picture. That gives us a window. A chance to get new papers, new names. To use the money we've saved, and the money from Caleb's business, to buy that land and start buildin' a life that don't end at the end of a rope."
He looked around at every face. "This isn't a plan I'm handin' down. This is a choice I'm puttin' before you. We discuss it. As a group. We weigh the risks. We decide, together, if this is the future we want to fight for. A future where we're not outlaws on the run, but… a family on our own land."
The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the crackle of a distant fire and the call of a crow. Then, the questions began, not with anger, but with a desperate, hungry curiosity.
Pearson's eyes lit up. "I could cook with actual ingredients…"
"New papers… how?" Javier asked.
"The money in the chest…we'd use it for this?" Tilly asked, her voice hopeful.
Charles spoke quietly. "If it's chosen right… it could work."
"What about…him?" Karen asked, jerking her head toward Dutch's tent.
"Would we all have to work in the restaurant?"Sean asked, half joking, half serious.
Hosea, Arthur, and Caleb began to answer, outlining the steps, acknowledging the problems, admitting they didn't have all the answers.
The discussion spilled into the morning, voices rising and falling, fears voiced and assuaged. But the overwhelming sentiment wasn't resistance. It was a cautious, dawning, incredible hope.
Mary-Beth at this time stepped forward, her voice gentle but clear. "I knew about the restaurant. Caleb didn't tell me to keep it secret. I chose to. Because I believed in what he was tryin' to do."
She looked around. "This isn't a trick. He wants out. Not alone. Together."
All eyes drifted back to Caleb.
He took a breath.
"I didn't tell you because I didn't want it destroyed," he said simply. "Or taken. Or turned into another gamble."
He met their gazes one by one. "I'm not askin' you to trust me blindly. I'm askin' you to look at what's in front of us and decide if you want somethin' better."
No speeches. No promises.
Just honesty.
Hosea nodded slowly. "This ain't a command. It's a discussion. One we'll keep havin'."
Arthur crossed his arms. "But it's the first plan I've heard that don't end with us dead or run off a cliff."
That earned a few dry laughs.
As the meeting evolved into a dozen smaller conversations, Mary-Beth made her way to Caleb's side, slipping her hand into his. He looked down at her, the question in his eyes.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
He nodded. "Better than I expected."
She smiled, her eyes shining. "I told you they'd understand."
He squeezed her hand, watching his adopted family, a band of killers, thieves, and lost souls, tentatively, fearfully, passionately discussing the prospect of planting a garden.
The path was no longer just a vision shared by three men by a stream. It was now a dream held in the hearts of twenty.
And for the first time, that dream didn't feel impossible. It felt like the next, terrifying, necessary step.
Hosea at this time joined the two of them.
"We'll take it slow," Hosea said. "No sudden moves. We let this idea settle."
Caleb exhaled. "Thank you."
Hosea smiled. "No. Thank you. For givin' us somethin' real."
Hosea lingered a moment longer, his presence steady and reassuring, then gave Caleb and Mary-Beth a final nod. "We'll take it slow," he repeated, as if committing the words to the soil itself. "No sudden moves. We let this idea settle."
With that, he turned and walked away, already being pulled into another knot of questions near the fire where Arthur, Charles, and Javier stood in quiet debate. The morning sun crept higher, warming the dew from the grass, and for a few breaths Caleb simply stood there with Mary-Beth, listening to the camp murmur, not with fear, but with cautious, living energy.
Mary-Beth leaned into him, her shoulder brushing his arm. "You did good," she said softly.
Caleb smiled faintly. "We all did."
They watched Jack dart past Pearson's chuck wagon, laughing as Karen feigned outrage at something he'd stolen, probably a biscuit. It was an ordinary moment, impossibly precious.
That was when Strauss approached.
Leopold Strauss moved with careful steps, hands folded neatly in front of his vest, his spectacles slipping just slightly down the bridge of his nose. He adjusted them as he came closer, his expression thoughtful rather than severe.
There was none of his usual wheedling urgency, none of the sharp edge that had once defined his role in the camp. Instead, there was restraint. Respect.
"Mr. Thorne," Strauss said, his accent thick but his tone measured. "May I speak with you for a moment, if you would be so kind?"
Caleb turned toward him fully and inclined his head. "Of course, Herr Strauss. What did you want to speak about?"
Mary-Beth gave Strauss a polite nod and took a small step back, though she stayed close enough to listen if needed. Strauss seemed to notice her presence and acknowledged it with a courteous dip of his head before returning his attention to Caleb.
"I must admit," Strauss began, pushing his glasses back into place, "I did not expect what I heard this morning. A businessman. A restaurateur, no less." There was a flicker of genuine surprise in his eyes. "Creating one's own establishment, from land to brick, to staff… it is no small undertaking."
Caleb let out a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Wasn't exactly part of the plan at first. I just saw a chance and took it. Turns out, it became a hit."
Strauss nodded slowly, absorbing that. "So it would seem. A profitable enterprise in Valentine, respected by the townsfolk… that is no accident. That is vision, paired with discipline."
Caleb shrugged lightly. "Or luck."
Strauss allowed himself a thin smile. "Luck favors the prepared man."
There was a pause, not awkward but deliberate, as Strauss chose his next words carefully.
"I find myself," Strauss continued, "in a… changed position, as of late. My former duties here in camp are no longer required, nor, if I am being honest, particularly welcome."
He adjusted his cuffs. "However, my skills remain. Accounting. Investment. The management and multiplication of capital."
Caleb's eyes sharpened slightly, attentive.
"If you should require," Strauss said, "an accountant, someone to oversee the financial matters of your business, to ensure the books remain clean, the profits protected, and perhaps to seek further opportunities… I would offer my services."
Mary-Beth glanced at Caleb, her expression carefully neutral but curious.
Strauss continued before Caleb could respond. "There are always ways to create more money with the funds one possesses. Sensible investments. Acquisitions. Quiet ventures that generate income without drawing undue attention. After covering operational costs and wages, excess capital should never sit idle."
He hesitated, then added plainly, "I no longer have work in this camp. But I am not without purpose."
Caleb studied him for a long moment.
This, this was exactly what he had wanted.
Not just the skillset, but the initiative. Strauss had come to him first. That alone spoke volumes. It meant Strauss had been thinking, not about survival alone, but about transition. About relevance in a future that didn't involve shaking down desperate farmers.
Caleb nodded, satisfaction flickering across his features. "That's actually something I've been hopin' would happen."
Strauss's brows lifted slightly.
"I could use help handling my money," Caleb continued. "Between the restaurant, keepin' an eye on camp security, makin' sure we're ahead of any trouble, Pinkertons, Cornwall, bounty hunters who catch our scent, I don't have the time to do it all myself."
He met Strauss's gaze squarely. "And yeah. I'm interested in investin'. Other businesses. Acquirin' places that make sense. I want our money workin' for us, not just sittin' in a chest waitin' to be stolen or burned."
Strauss's expression softened into something close to relief. "Then I am pleased," he said quietly. "Very pleased."
Caleb went on, his voice calm but firm. "I'll be honest. I know me and you had… differences. And I know you did things before that caused harm. But I've also seen you keep your word when it mattered."
Strauss nodded at once. "I understand your hesitation. And I give you my word, my professional word, that I will not betray or cheat you. Whatever my past, I recognize what you have done for this… family."
...
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: -