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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, with more fences, scattered ranches, and smoke trailing from distant chimneys. Civilization wasn't far now.
Finally, as stars began to peek from the darkening sky, the familiar outlines of Valentine came into view. The warm lantern light from the train station flickered in welcome, and a distant whistle called from a passing train to the east.
Caleb guided Stark over the road and into the town proper. The streets were quieter now, with only a few townsfolk lingering about, a drunk leaning against the saloon's post, a woman walking briskly with a basket of laundry, and a ranch hand lighting a lantern outside the barn.
He passed by the train station, giving a short nod to a young porter who glanced up, wide eyed at the bound man flopping awkwardly behind him.
Then he continued through town, the iron shoes of Stark's hooves ringing against the muddy road of the main street. He drew up in front of the sheriff's office and hitched Stark to the hitching post outside, tightening the knot just in case.
Kork let out a muffled, exhausted grunt as Caleb dismounted and untied him. He threw the outlaw over his shoulder with a practiced lift, ignoring the squirming weight.
The door to the sheriff's office creaked open with a push of his boot, the familiar scent of tobacco and old coffee greeting him.
Inside, Sheriff Malloy sat behind his desk, a cigar clamped between his teeth, going over a stack of reports. The older man looked up as Caleb stepped in, one bushy brow arching.
"Well, well," he said, standing up and setting the papers aside. "Caleb looks like you are a great bounty hunter for sure, already capturing your third bounty for us. That the murderer Paul Kork you got there?"
Caleb nodded, dropping the outlaw unceremoniously into the iron barred holding cell to the right. "Caught him squattin' in an old farmhouse west of Emerald Ranch. Tried to gut me with a knife."
Sheriff Malloy let out a low whistle, stepping closer to the cell. Kork glared at them, blood crusted on his lip, the gag still stuffed in his mouth.
"Looks like you gave him a proper introduction to justice," Sheriff Malloy muttered with a satisfied grunt.
Caleb leaned against the wall, arms folded. "Tried to play nice at first. Offered him a chance to talk. He chose a knife instead."
"Well, that's his mistake," Sheriff Malloy said, went back to his desk and opened the board, took out a stack of dollar bills, and put it on the desk. "That's your 45 dollars."
Caleb took the dollar bills and checked them to count them before nodding. "Appreciated, Sheriff."
Then suddenly Sheriff Malloy's gaze sharpened. "Heard 'bout Strawberry?"
Caleb kept his expression neutral. "Strawberry? What happened at Strawberry?"
"Somebody shot a convict by the name of Micah Bell in his cell last night. Clean through the bars." Malloy spat. "Goddamn coward's way, if you ask me."
Caleb feigned surprise. "What?! That's definitely a big news, maybe I haven't heard of it since I was in Emerald Ranch and the news reached Valentine first, surely by now all over New Haniver heard about it."
"Yeah, all over New Hanover must have heard the news by now," Sheriff Malloy nodded. "Strawberry Sheriff over there's fit to be tied, no witnesses, no tracks. That's why he sent a letter to us, in case there was someone suspicious in town, and captured them to help him in his investigation."
Caleb still acted like he didn't know a thing, giving Sheriff Malloy a serious nod of agreement. "I'll keep my eyes and ears open Sheriff," he said with a low drawl. "If I see or hear anything suspicious, you'll be the first to know."
Sheriff Malloy gave a satisfied grunt, puffing on the end of his cigar. "Good. If your report turns out valid, connected to this whole mess in Strawberry, I'll see to it you get paid for your trouble. That fair to you?"
Caleb gave another nod, tipping his hat slightly. "Fair enough, Sheriff."
With that, he turned and stepped back out into the cooling night air. The air had grown still, with only the hum of crickets and the soft clatter of a horse's hooves echoing down the main road. He approached Stark, the sturdy mare raising her head slightly and nickering at his return.
"You earned yourself a good rest, girl," he murmured, rubbing her neck fondly.
He untied the reins and mounted her once more, guiding her gently across the road toward the Valentine stable. The wooden sign creaked faintly above the entrance, the lanterns casting a mellow amber glow over the barnyard.
Inside, Mr. Levi was tending to a roan stallion, brushing its mane with practiced hands. The stablemaster looked up as Caleb approached, his weathered face cracking into a half smile.
"Evenin', Caleb. Stark lookin' a little worn out there. Been out huntin' again?"
Caleb nodded, patting the mare's flank. "She ran hard today, and helped bring in a bounty. Figured she earned some groomin' and rest."
Mr. Levi stepped over, giving Stark a quick once over with his eyes. "She's got good muscle on her. Strong back. I'll see to it she gets the works."
Caleb reached into his coat, pulled out 8 crumpled dollars, and handed them over. "That should cover her care for the night."
Mr. Levi accepted the bills and put them inside his pocket. "You don't worry about a thing. I'll keep a good eye on her."
With a final rub on Stark's neck, Caleb whispered, "Be good now," before turning away.
The walk back through Valentine was quiet. A few lamps still burned in the windows, and the sound of distant laughter drifted faintly from the saloon.
Caleb stepped up the creaking wooden steps of the hotel and entered the front lobby, where the same tired eye clerk sat behind the desk.
"Evenin', Mr. Thorne," the clerk said with a nod.
"I'd like to prolong my stay," Caleb said, reaching into his satchel this time. "About 10 nights."
"That'll be 10 dollars."
Caleb handed over the money without argument, and then turned toward the stairs. His legs felt heavy as he climbed them.
When he entered his room, the familiar creak of the floorboards and a faint scent of wood polish greeted him. He pulled off his coat, unbuckled his gun belt, and carefully set down his Lancaster repeater and pump action shotgun beside the wardrobe.
Boots came off next, then his hat, which he set gently on the side table. With a groan, he fell into the bed, the straw mattress creaking under his weight.
Sleep came quickly and dreamless.
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the cracks in the curtains, casting golden lines across the room. Caleb opened his eyes slowly, blinking at the brightness before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He dressed in silence, coat, boots, and hat, then reached for his gun belt.
He checked the load on his twin Schofields first, the chambers rotating with a clean click. Fully loaded. Satisfied, he slung the belt low on his hips and strapped it tight.
Next, he lifted the Lancaster, giving it a brief once over. The wood was still clean, the iron sights straight. He slung it over his shoulder, followed by the pump action shotgun across his back. Both weapons sat snug against his coat.
Ready.
He left the room and made his way out of the hotel, the morning air brisk and refreshing. Morgan snorted as she saw him approaching, pawing the ground lightly.
"Time to ride, girl."
He mounted up and nudged her forward, guiding her out of town and toward the trail leading southeast, back toward Horseshoe Overlook.
The ride was peaceful, filled with the scent of pine and damp soil. Birds chirped overhead, and deer scattered at the sound of hooves. He turned left entering into the cluster of trees, ducked beneath hanging branches, and followed the winding path past the cluster of trees that marked the edge of camp.
As he neared, familiar sounds drifted through the air, chatter, the clink of pots, and the low murmur of someone strumming a guitar. He saw the wooden sign marking the gang's encampment just ahead. Caleb dismounted and hitched Morgan to the post.
Javier was leaning against a tree, repeater in hand. Lenny stood beside him, sipping from a tin cup with his repeater beside him.
"Morning, boys," Caleb greeted with a nod.
"Morning Caleb," Javier replied, eyes scanning the woods beyond. "You just get back?"
"Yeah. Been out on a job. Lookin' for Arthur."
"He's over by the fire. Just finished breakfast, I think."
Caleb walked into the heart of the camp, where a few of the gang milled about. Tilly was helping Mary-Beth
with laundry. Uncle was already half dozing on the wheel of one of the wagons.
Arthur sat by the stew pot near Pearson's station, wiping the last bits of meat from his tin plate with a hunk of bread. Caleb approached, offering a casual wave.
"Morning, Arthur."
Arthur looked up and gave a small nod. "Caleb. Good to see you back."
"Likewise. Figured I'd check in."
Arthur tilted his head slightly. "You still up for that thing we talked about before? Breakin' Micah outta jail in Strawberry?"
Caleb kept his face neutral and nodded. "Yeah. That's part of why I came back. Figured I'd lend a hand if you're still set on doin' it and since I'm free."
Arthur gave a low grunt and stood up, brushing crumbs from his pants. *Good. Eat something. Pearson's stew is still warm. We'll ride out when you're done."
Caleb stepped over to the stew pot and ladled a healthy portion into a tin bowl. The meat was tough, but filling, probably some stringy venison Pearson got the day before. He sat near the fire and ate quickly, knowing the real work lay ahead.
By late morning, the two men mounted up, Arthur on his sturdy brown stallion, and Caleb back on Morgan. They rode out through the winding forest trail, sun peeking through the high trees as they kept a steady pace westward toward Strawberry.
Caleb glanced sideways at Arthur. "You sure this is worth the trouble, Arthur? That fella rubbed me the wrong way the moment you and Lenny told me about him."
Arthur sighed, jaw clenched. "Yeah, I ain't exactly fond of the bastard either. But Dutch wants him back. Says he is part of the family and would done the same for us, even though I doubted it."
"From the stories you told me, I agreed with you, I doubted he would done the same for us," Caleb echoed flatly. "You ever wonder if maybe Dutch's judgment on Micah was wrong?"
Arthur didn't answer right away. "I wonder a lotta things these days."
The rest of the ride was spent mostly in silence, save for the occasional birdcall or rustle of movement in the underbrush. As Strawberry came into view, tucked neatly between tall pines and sloping red rock hills, Caleb felt a slight tension return to his shoulders.
He played his role well, though. There could be no cracks, no suspicions. Just another outlaw, loyal to the gang. Just another helping hand.
They entered into the town through the southern entrance, where the rushing water of the river to their left somewhat masked the faint bustling of the town folk going on doing their daily activities.
But Arthur and Caleb could feel the high tension simmering in the town, where they saw several deputies stand guard along the road. What's more, they feel the eyes of many people laid upon them.
Arthur was confused as he felt even if strangers came into town, they wouldn't receive this kind of reception. Only Caleb knew why this happened, because he had killed Micah in his jail two days ago and caused Strawberry to be on high alert now looking for the suspect, not knowing who killed the captive.
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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: 731 dollars and 61 cents
Bank: 40 dollars, 2 gold bars, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets