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He pitched his tent low and set his bedroll inside, stripping down only to his shirt as he collapsed onto the worn canvas with a long exhale. Micah Bell was dead and no one knew. That thought comforted him as he finally drifted into sleep, his breathing steady and deep, the sound of the river in the distance like a lullaby.
Morning sun dappled through the trees, golden and warm.
Caleb's eyes opened, and he immediately reached to his coat. From the inside pocket, he withdrew his pocket watch and flicked it open.
9:00 AM.
"Late start," he murmured, sitting up and running a hand through his dark hair.
He stood, stretched, and packed up camp with practiced efficiency, tent folded, bedroll tied, gear checked. He mounted Stark and clicked his tongue.
"Let's get movin', girl. We got another bastard to find."
He pulled the last piece of salted meat from his satchel and chewed on it as they rode, washing it down with a sip from his canteen. He activated his map function and he used it to guide him toward Emerald Ranch. He will hunt down Paul Kork now, just like he had planned.
The bounty serve two purposes. First, the pay was good. Second and more importantly it would plant Caleb officially in the area, giving him an excuse for his presence should anyone from Strawberry come asking questions about the jailhouse incident in Valentine and also when Arthur reported to Dutch about Micah's demise in the jail.
Smart cover stories were as vital as any weapon.
He followed the Dakota River for a time, then veered southeast across the rocky paths of Caliban's Seat.
Twin Stack Pass came next, and from there the road smoothed, winding through wheat colored fields and broken fences. Travelers passed by, people in wagons, a few hunters with their game tied on the back of their horses, and once a lone train rumbling in the distance.
At last, Emerald Ranch came into view. The midday sun glinted off the tops of buildings and the iron rails of the train line that cut along the northern edge. The Chickens pecked around the muddy yard as dogs barked and horses whinnied. Sound of cows and sheep's also could be heard.
Caleb dismounted and hitched Stark at the hitching post across the Seamus barn. Then he goes toward the section beiade the barn, where Seamus the fence, smuggler, and quiet man of information, was standing behind his counter.
The middle aged man looked up from his ledger when he heard footsteps and his eyes flicked to Caleb, and a flicker of recognition crossed his face.
"Mornin', mister," Seamus said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. "You lookin' to buy that thing you asked me about before?"
Caleb shook his head once, keeping his tone level. "Not today."
Seamus arched a brow. "Changed your mind about the dynamite, eh?"
Caleb stepped closer, lowering his voice just slightly. "Came for somethin' else. I'm lookin' for a man by the name of Paul Kork. Got a bounty on his head outta Valentine for murder. Last seen in these parts. You heard anything?"
Seamus leaned back, scratching at his chin thoughtfully. "Kork, huh? That scraggly son of a bitch with the twitchy eye?"
Caleb's lips thinned. "It could be him, but I don't know if he got a twitchy eyes."
"Well if he I the same guy you're asking, I've seen him last week. Came 'round tryin' to sell some silverware, looked like hotel stuff. Told him to piss off. But he's been seen near the old Lonnigan place, east of here. An abandoned farmhouse. Folks say it's haunted. Personally, I think he's just squattin' there."
Caleb nodded once. "Appreciate it."
"Sure you don't want that dynamite though?" Seamus smirked faintly. "Could come in handy, depending on what you're plannin'."
Caleb returned the smirk with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Might be back for it later."
He left the fencer and mounted up. Stark whinnied softly as he turned her toward the west, following the dirt road that trailed toward the rail road and beyond it, heading east of Emerald Ranch.
Caleb followed the dusty path leading westward out of Emerald Ranch, his figure cutting a solitary silhouette against the rolling grasslands and gentle hills. Stark's hooves thudded steadily beneath him, rhythmic and sure.
He guided her with subtle movements, reins held lightly, allowing the mare to pace herself as they passed fields gone to weed and skeletal remains of old fenceposts.
The road bent around a gentle slope, past a small grove of dry birch, and eventually the abandoned farm Seamus had mentioned came into view. It was a lonely structure, a weather beaten wooden cabin slumped slightly to one side like a drunk too tired to stand straight.
The roof sagged. One window was boarded up. The other still had the cracked remnants of a curtain fluttering like a forgotten ghost. Off to the side stretched the remnants of fields that once grew corn or barley, now choked with tall grass, thistle, and brambles.
Caleb dismounted quietly and approached the fence. He tied Stark loosely to a post, whispering a soft "Stay, girl," before unbuttoning his coat to reveal both of his Schofield Revolvers nestled snugly in their holsters.
With practiced ease, he drew both weapons, testing the weight in his hands. He crouched low and began moving silently across the yard, each footstep deliberate, each breath slow and controlled.
He activated his Eagle Eye skill. His vision shifted, a subtle change in perception more felt than seen. The world dulled, and in the midst of the color drained view, white tracks shone bright on the muddy earth bootprints leading from the rear of the barn to the front porch.
Caleb followed them cautiously, keeping both guns ready, his body crouched to avoid being seen from the windows. The tracks ended at the steps of the porch. He moved silently up the creaking wooden planks. That's when he heard it, the sound of glass breaking.
It was quick and sharp, the unmistakable sound of a bottle hitting the floor. Caleb froze, leaning against the wall just beside the door. His ears strained.
"Shit!" came a gruff voice, followed by more shuffling and what sounded like someone scooping up broken pieces. A few more curses in a slurred, irritable voice.
That voice belonged to someone with a short fuse. Likely drunk. Possibly dangerous. Caleb's eyes narrowed. He holstered both his Schofields, mind already working through a plan. Surprise was his best weapon now.
He knocked firmly on the front door with the back of his hand, then called out in a friendly, lost-traveler drawl.
"Hello? Anyone inside? I need a little help, I think I took a wrong turn outta Emerald Ranch. Never been out this way before."
There was silence. Then the sound of clattering inside. A chair scraping.
Caleb's high perception picked up the subtle sound of metal against wood, like a knife being picked up or moved across a table.
Then, after a few heartbeats, the door creaked open.
A man stood behind it, middle-aged, rough looking, greasy hair pulled back, and a twitch in his left eye. A short goatee, and the exact same narrowed brow and scarred cheek from the bounty poster hanging in the Valentine sheriff's office. Paul Kork.
Caleb offered him a lopsided, seemingly polite smile.
Kork's own smile was strange, teeth yellowed, voice too sugary. "Well now, stranger… you do look lost. How 'bout you come on in, pour yourself a drink? We can talk nice and proper about the direction you take wrong."
Caleb's eyes flicked briefly. Kork's left hand was behind his back, tense. He had a knife there.
But Caleb didn't flinch. Didn't betray a thing. He stepped forward, only slightly, as if considering the offer.
Then, with a sudden snap of motion, Caleb clenched his right fist and drove it hard into Kork's jaw.
Crack!
The blow connected flush, sending Kork reeling backward, blood spraying from a split lip. The knife in his left hand dropped with a metallic clatter onto the wooden floor.
Kork screamed, part pain, part outrage, "WHAT THE HELL—?!"
But Caleb was already inside. He kicked the door shut behind him and stepped over the threshold, delivering two savage kicks to Kork's gut. The man groaned, doubling over, clutching his stomach.
"Paul Kork," Caleb growled, voice like gravel under boot, "you're under arrest for murder and bounty listed outta Valentine."
Kork spat a gob of blood and curses. "You piece of shit bounty hunter! You don't know who you're messin' with—!"
"I know exactly who I'm messin' with, a murderer," Caleb interrupted flatly. He knelt beside him, pulling his rope from his saddlebag and working efficiently. Kork fought, wriggled, shouted, but it was useless.
In moments, Caleb had his arms lashed behind his back, wrists and elbows bound, ankles trussed. He pulled the man into a sitting position against the wall, then took a step back, breathing heavily.
Kork glared up at him. "You think this is over? You just wait 'til the men I run with find you. They'll cut you up and feed you to the hogs!"
"Then I'll make sure to shoot the hogs next," Caleb muttered, brushing dust from his coat.
He took a quick look around the cabin. Empty bottles. A broken crate filled with what looked like silver spoons and forks, matching Seamus' earlier statement.
There was no real furniture, just an overturned table, some crates, and a moldy mattress shoved against the wall. Caleb opened a drawer in the crate near the broken bottle and found a small satchel. Inside he gained 75 dollars in cash, 1 silver pocket watch, and 2 gold teeth.
He smile at the loot and pocketed the cash and items. Nothing Kork would be using anymore.
Then he went outside and whistled. Stark trotted up dutifully, ears forward. Caleb retrieved his saddlebag and began securing Kork onto the back of the horse, tied and gagged for good measure. The criminal spat more curses through the gag, writhing like a caught boar.
"Keep floppin' around like that Mr. Kork," Caleb warned, "and I'll let Stark decide herself how fast we ride back. She ain't got much sympathy for killers."
Hearing that Kork finally stopped struggling, Caleb gave the man a last glance over his shoulder. The outlaw was slumped slightly forward in the saddlebag restraints, muttering something unintelligible through the cloth gag stuffed in his mouth, but the fire had gone out of his eyes. The fight was over.
Caleb mounted Stark with an ease born of long habit, settling into the saddle with Kork's trussed up form securely strapped to the rear. He patted the mare's neck gently.
"Good girl," he murmured. "One more ride. Then we get that oat sack I promised you."
He took a deep breath and activated the map function, look at the most efficient route back to Valentine. A pale icon hovered over the sheriff's office, Caleb locked the waypoint and nudged Stark into motion.
They trotted back the way they came, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the land. The wind picked up a little, rustling the tall grass and brushing Caleb's face with dust and the scent of wild sage.
They retraced the trail eastward, past the now familiar skeletal birches and the curve of the old rail line that marked the path west of Emerald Ranch.
By the time they reached Twin Stack Pass, the sun had dipped low behind the cliffs. Shadows grew long and the sky began to bleed into twilight purples and dusty oranges.
Caleb passed under the twin columns of rock that gave the pass its name, eyeing the terrain with quiet focus. It was a place known for bandits and ambushes but this time, no trouble stirred.
Just the sound of hooves and the occasional groan from his captive. He followed the main road past Citadel Rock, the iron streaked cliffs glowing faintly in the last light of day. The landscape gradually shifted, more fences, scattered ranches, and smoke trailing from distant chimneys. Civilization wasn't far now.
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Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 6/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 5/10
- Luck: 6/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 2)
- Rifle (Lvl 2)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 2)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 1)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 2)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 2)
- Poker (Lvl 1)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 1)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 1)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 1)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 0)
- Crafting (Lv1)
- Persuasion (Lvl 2)
Money: 704 dollars and 61 cents
Bank: 40 dollars, 2 gold bars, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets