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Chapter 78 - 76. Bill Broke Another Moment

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Caleb met Charles' eyes evenly, his shoulders squared. "I wanted to kill him," Caleb admitted, his voice low and calm. "God knows I wanted to. But I kept thinking about the family he said he had. About the people who'd be left behind if I gutted him here and now. Sometimes…" He drew in a breath, exhaling slowly. "Sometimes revenge isn't the answer, Charles."

Arthur, who'd been watching quietly, gave a small nod, a wry half smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe since we let him live," Arthur said, "he'll go back and tell his friends what happens to poachers when they mess with the wrong people. Might save us some trouble down the line."

Charles let out a sharp breath through his nose, shaking his head as if trying to dislodge his anger. "I've seen enough of this," he muttered. "I'm heading back to camp."

Arthur clapped a hand lightly on Charles' shoulder. "Alright, you go on ahead. I'm gonna stick around, see if there's anything worth looting here. Might as well not let everything go to waste."

Caleb glanced at Arthur, then at the scattered bison carcasses, the stench of rot thick in the air. He shook his head. "I'll go with Charles. Don't want the meat I'm carrying to go bad."

Arthur gave a casual wave as he crouched by the campfire, already rummaging through a half empty saddlebag. "See you two back at camp."

Charles was already mounted by the time Caleb reached the horses. The older man didn't speak as Caleb swung into the saddle, his expression unreadable beneath. They rode in silence for a while, the only sounds the creak of leather and the steady rhythm of hooves against dirt.

Finally, Charles spoke, his voice quieter now, the anger banked to embers. "You really think letting him live was the right call?"

Caleb considered his answer carefully. "I don't know," he admitted. "But killing him wouldn't have brought those bison back. And if he's got kids… they don't deserve to lose their father over this."

Charles was silent for a long moment. Then, grudgingly, "Maybe."

They reached camp just as the stars began to prick the sky, the fires crackling to life and voices murmuring in the cool night air.

Pearson was the first to spot them, his booming voice cutting through the evening air. "Well, look what the cat dragged in! And with enough meat to feed an army!"

The gang gathered as they dismounted, unloading the bison meat and hides.

Hosea approached, his sharp eyes missing nothing. "Successful hunt, I see."

Caleb grunted. "Yeah. And we ran into some trouble."

Hosea's brows rose. "What kind of trouble?"

Charles' voice was low. "Poachers. Killing bison just to leave them rotting."

A shadow passed over Hosea's face. "I see."

Mary-Beth appeared at Caleb's side, her voice soft. "You're covered in dirt. And... is that blood?"

Caleb looked down at his hands, the stains dark against his skin. "Yeah. It's been a long day."

She hesitated, then reached out, her fingers brushing his arm. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."

Caleb let her lead him away, the warmth of her touch cutting through the lingering chill of the hunt.

Mary-Beth guided Caleb toward the washing basin near Pearson's wagon, the steel basin brimming with clean water that had just been drawn from the nearby creek. The evening chill was settling in, and the flickering glow of the campfires painted long shadows across the clearing.

Caleb sat on a crate beside the basin, watching quietly as Mary-Beth dipped a cloth into the cool water, wringing it out with delicate hands before kneeling beside him.

Neither of them spoke at first. The only sounds were the crackling fire, the murmur of distant voices, and the rhythmic swish of the cloth as Mary-Beth worked.

Her brow was furrowed, her lips slightly pursed in a rare look of concentration as she gently wiped the blood from Caleb's hands and arms. Her touch was soft but sure, moving with a practiced grace that betrayed how often she tended to the hurts and scrapes of the gang.

Caleb found himself watching her face, the delicate line of her jaw, the way her brow smoothed when she paused to glance up at him, the light freckles across her nose that the lamplight made glow faintly, and the firelight caught the red in her hair.

Something stirred in his chest, unexpected and unfamiliar, and before he quite realized what he was doing, the words slipped out.

"Mary-Beth… you're very beautiful."

The effect was instant. Mary-Beth froze, cloth hovering mid air, her wide, startled green eyes locking onto his. For a heartbeat, there was only stunned silence between them, the soft murmur of camp life fading into the background.

Then, color flooded into her cheeks, a brilliant beet red that made her duck her head, a shy laugh escaping her lips.

"Oh, C-Caleb," she breathed, voice barely above a whisper, "th-thank you… that's very kind of you."

Caleb's own face flushed with heat as the weight of his impulsive words hit him. "Damn it," he thought, inwardly berating himself. "Why'd you have to say that now, you idiot?" Outwardly, he could only manage a sheepish, lopsided smile, scratching the back of his neck in a rare display of awkwardness.

But the fragile moment between them shattered like glass under a boot as a loud, slurred voice tore through the quiet.

"Well, well, ain't this just sweet."

The slurred shout shattered the moment. Bill Williamson stumbled out of the shadows, the bottle in his hand sloshing dangerously. His hat was askew, his shirt half untucked, and his face flushed a ruddy red from too much whiskey. His boots crunched over the dirt as he swaggered closer, the smell of liquor heavy in the air around him.

Caleb tensed, rising slowly to his feet. Mary-Beth straightened, her expression shifting from surprise to wariness, her hands knotting the cloth in her fingers.

"Look at you," Bill sneered, spitting into the dirt near Caleb's boots. "Didn't I tell you, city boy? Told you not to get too cozy here. And what do I find? You makin' eyes at Mary-Beth like you've been here ten years." His eyes glittered with mean amusement. "Guess you need a lesson."

Mary-Beth's hands clenched around the wet cloth. "Bill Williamson," she said, her voice sharp as a whip, "you drunken fool—"

Caleb stood, placing himself slightly between Mary-Beth and Bill, as he exhaled calmly and his shoulders squared. "Mr. Williamson," he said, keeping his tone even, "you're drunk. Don't do something you'll regret. Go to your bedroll. Get some sleep."

Bill threw his head back in a barking laugh, loud enough to turn a few heads near the main fire. "You think you scare me, boy? You think you can talk down to me? You ain't nothin' but a stray Dutch picked up, same as a hundred others. Don't go thinkin' you're special."

The tension in the camp thickened, voices lowering as more eyes turned toward the brewing confrontation. Javier had appeared near the wagons, watching warily, while Charles lingered just beyond the firelight, arms crossed.

Caleb's voice was measured, his gaze steady. "Bill, I don't want trouble. Walk away."

But Bill, predictably, didn't. The argument flared, Bill blustering and spitting curses, Caleb answering coolly, his words sharp and precise. The more Caleb spoke, the more Bill fumbled, his drunken mind failing to keep pace.

The gang was fully watching now, with Javier joined by. Lenny leaned against the wagon, Hosea sat forward on a crate, and Uncle sipped from his cup with one eye narrowed. Even Dutch emerged from his tent, his sharp gaze flicking between the two.

At one point, Caleb's patience snapped. "And you? The man who can't go a day without drinking himself stupid? The one everyone tolerates but no one respects?"

Hearing that, red faced and humiliated, Bill finally snarled, "I've had enough of your damn mouth!" and lunged forward, swinging a wild punch.

Caleb was ready. He sidestepped neatly, the punch sailing harmlessly past, and drove his fist into Bill's stomach with a solid thud. The drunk doubled over, gasping, but fury burned away his pain. With a wordless roar, Bill swung again.

"Mary-Beth, get clear!" Caleb snapped, eyes never leaving his opponent.

Mary-Beth hesitated only a second before scurrying backward, retreating toward the fire where Pearson and Susan Grimshaw were already rising to intervene.

The second punch came fast, but Caleb slipped aside once more, his instincts sharp. But before the fight could escalate further, a chorus of voices rang out.

"Enough!" Dutch's voice cut like a whip crack. "Break it up!"

Javier and Charles moved swiftly, grabbing Bill's arms. Lenny darted in, seizing Caleb by the shoulder, though his grip was more to steady than restrain. Uncle and Pearson rushed over, and even Hosea rose to his feet, his boots tapping sharply against the ground.

"Bill, you damn fool, what the hell's gotten into you?" Dutch barked, stepping between them.

Bill tried to shake free, spitting curses, but Charles' grip was iron. "I warned him, Dutch! I told him! Let me go! I'll kill him!"

"And now you're making an ass of yourself in front of the whole camp," Hosea snapped sharply. "You're drunk, Bill. Go sleep it off before you do something really stupid."

Meanwhile, Lenny, who holds Caleb, releases him and says. "Easy, man," Lenny said. "Ain't worth it."

Dutch's hand landed on Caleb's shoulder, firm but not unkind. "Caleb, son, easy now. No need to fan the flames. Just… walk away. Bill's not in his right mind."

Caleb exhaled, his fists unclenching. "I wasn't looking for a fight, Dutch. He came at me. He was the one who started it."

"I know, I know. He'll regret it when he sobers up," Dutch offered a tight lipped smile, though his eyes flicked briefly toward Bill with cool disapproval. "But we're family. We don't brawl like animals."

Caleb wanted to argue. Wanted to point out that Bill had been the one acting like an animal. But Mary-Beth's hand brushed his arm, her eyes pleading.

Let it go.

With a slow exhale, Caleb nodded. "Fine."

Dutch clapped him on the shoulder, relief flashing across his face. "Good man."

With much effort, the group dragged Bill away, grumbling and thrashing, until they shoved him toward his bedroll near the edge of camp. Only when the drunk finally collapsed did Dutch turn back to Caleb, his expression softening.

"You alright, son?" Dutch asked quietly.

Caleb nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Good man." Dutch clapped his shoulder. "We're a family here, son. We keep the peace when we can. I trust you understand."

"I do," Caleb murmured.

As the crowd slowly dispersed, Mary-Beth, who was standing beside Caleb, had her voice barely above a whisper. "You sure you're alright, Caleb?"

Caleb offered her a small, weary smile. "I'm alright."

Her lips curved in a faint smile of her own, her eyes lingering on his face for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "Thank you… for keeping your head."

"Could say the same to you," Caleb said softly. Then he hesitated, before adding, "About what I said earlier—"

She smiled, small but genuine. "I liked it."

Their eyes met, something unspoken passing between them before a sudden shout from the fire drew Mary-Beth's attention away.

"I… should go help with the food," she murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Good night, Caleb."

"Good night, Mary-Beth." As she slipped away, Caleb let out a long breath, rolling his shoulders to release the tension coiled tight in his muscles.

That night, as Caleb settled on his bedroll, he felt the weight of the day settle into his bones, the long ride, the bitter encounter with the poachers, the adrenaline of the fight. But as his eyes drifted across the camp, pausing where Mary-Beth knelt beside the cooking pot, laughter on her lips, a warmth flickered in his chest that even Bill's drunken fury couldn't smother.

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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

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