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Caleb nodded, watching her leave, a warm feeling blooming in his chest. It took effort to pull himself away, but duty called. He had a job to do, and it started with Charles. He headed through the camp, boots soft in the morning dirt, until he found Charles at the edge of the clearing, calmly repairing a broken arrow with quiet focus. Caleb approached and crouched beside him.
"Morning, Charles," Caleb said.
Charles looked up, his dark eyes steady. "Morning, Caleb. You're up early."
Caleb nodded. "Figured I'd get some things done around camp before heading out. Actually, I came to talk to you about a job."
Charles paused, indicating that he was listening.
"There's a train coming through the quiet Scarlett Meadows this night," Caleb continued. "It's a private line and lightly guarded. John's been planning it. Me, him, and Arthur are in, but we figured four men are better than three. You interested in joining us?"
Charles finished tying the arrowhead back into place and put it inside his arrow sleeve at his lower back before replying.
"When and where?"
"We meet at the old shack north of Dewberry Creek at the south border. Tonight. We'll go over the plan again, make sure everyone knows their role."
Charles gave a slow nod. "Alright. I'll be there."
Caleb clapped his shoulder. "Appreciate it."
The day rolled on quietly after that, filled with the mundane routines of camp life. Javier strummed his guitar near the fire. Abigail scolded Jack for wandering too close to the horses.
Bill and Uncle argued about who left the last whiskey bottle empty. But Caleb remained on the periphery, conserving his energy, occasionally cleaning his weapons, checking his satchel, and counting rounds.
Evening came quickly.
The sun dipped low, casting long shadows as the camp dimmed to orange and gold. Caleb gathered his gear, his repeater, shotgun, revolvers, bow, and his rifle. He changed into the clothes that he borrowed from John through Abigail, checked his gun belt, slung his satchel over his shoulder, and adjusted his hat.
Arthur joined him near the edge of the camp. "Ready?"
Caleb nodded. "Let's ride."
John was already waiting at the shack when they arrived. The crumbling structure was nestled against a small rocky rise north of Dewberry Creek, hidden from the main road. Charles leaned against the wall of the abandoned shack, arms crossed.
"Nice of y'all to join us for our great heist tonight," John greeted.
Caleb smiled at John's teasing remark, leaning casually against one of the old shack's support beams. Charles, standing stoically with his arms crossed, gave no verbal response, just the usual calm, unreadable expression on his face. It was Arthur who broke the silence with a snort and a dry, sarcastic tone.
"Of course, great Mr. Marston," Arthur said, sweeping his hand with a mock flourish. "We come here to grace your foolish presence and maybe line our pockets while we're at it."
Caleb chuckled at that, his mood lightened by Arthur's sarcasm. John raised an eyebrow at Arthur and replied in mock offense, "Hey, that's not nice."
"Wasn't tryin' to be nice," Arthur muttered.
John let it go and turned serious, his voice steady and low. "You boys ready for this?"
The three of them, Caleb, Arthur, and Charles, nodded in unison. The air shifted. There was something about that shared nod among men who were about to face danger that bound them tighter than any words could.
Arthur spoke again, more serious now. "Everything ready?"
John grinned and walked over to a worn wooden crate stashed beneath the half collapsed window. "Yeah. Got everything prepped." He flipped open the lid and revealed stacks of ammo boxes, cloth wrapped bundles, and a few extra gun belts. "Guns, ammo, and… this."
He reached into the crate and pulled out four small brown sacks. Without another word, he tossed them, one each, to Arthur, Caleb, and Charles, keeping one for himself. Caleb caught it with a surprised grunt and turned it over in his hand. The texture was rough, burlap, with small slits cut for eyes and a slightly larger one for the mouth.
Caleb was turning it over in his hands. A sackcloth mask.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. This hadn't happened in the game. In the original timeline, the gang had grown sloppier, more reckless, masks were an afterthought, if they were used at all, and the gang only used bandana masks. He'd already prepared his own mask in his satchel, just in case, but he hadn't expected John to take the initiative.
Arthur raised an eyebrow and held his up like it offended him. "What the hell is this?"
"As you see yourself, Arthur," John said with a grin, "it's a mask. Sackcloth. Used to hide our faces."
"Is this some kind of joke?" Arthur asked, though there was a hint of approval under the surface.
John shook his head, growing a little more serious. "Got this idea since you and Caleb keep sayin' that one misstep could bring the law down on us. You're not wrong. Posters of all of us, well, except Caleb, are all over Blackwater and likely spread to the Lamoyne Sheriff's offices too."
Caleb nodded, slipping his mask halfway over his face to test the fit. "That's a good idea, John. Hiding our faces and avoiding extra heat from the law is a smart move. We screw this up, we can at least delay anyone connecting it back to the gang and searching garoudj New Hanover and Lemoyne, buying us time to move the camp."
He pulled the mask back off and tucked it into his belt for later. "I'd also suggest we alter our voices, make 'em deeper, raspier, maybe even higher. Anything to make it harder for witnesses to identify us and to throw off anyone who might recognize us."
Arthur scoffed, but there was a gleam in his eye. "Well damn, Marston. I'm almost impressed. You actually thought somethin' through for once. I suggest you had your brain eaten by a wolf whole, and you will truly be a genius."
John chuckled. "Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while."
Charles gave a quiet nod. "Good ideas. Both of them. Less chance of being tracked"
A short silence followed, the kind of silence that meant the planning phase was over and reality was beginning to settle in.
Arthur was the one who broke the silence by saying, "Alright then! Gentlemen, let's make some money."
As he spoke, he climbed onto the oil wagon's driver seat, settling in with the reins in hand. Caleb moved without hesitation, climbing up beside him and taking the shotgun seat, resting his repeater across his lap.
While John and Charles positioned themselves on either side of the wagon, gripping the wooden slats for balance, where each hanging off the frame with practiced ease, like shadows preparing to move.
Arthur gave the reins a flick. The horses grunted and began trotting forward, pulling the creaky oil wagon out of the clearing. The wheels clattered lightly over rocks and old tree roots before catching the smoother dirt of the main road. The scent of oil wafted faintly in the air, thick and greasy.
As the wagon turned left onto the main trail, heading southwest, Charles spoke up from the right side.
"Are all of the horses untethered?"
John, still scanning the brush like a hawk, replied casually, "I think so."
"Good," Charles nodded. "They should follow us from behind."
The makeshift escape mounts, left untied in the brush earlier, would trail them discreetly. Caleb looked over his shoulder and caught sight of his black gelding, Morgan, trotting at a calm distance behind them, ears perked and alert.
Arthur glanced over his shoulder toward John. "So, you found us a good spot to put our wagon, Wolf Man?"
"Yeah," John said with a confident smirk. "Follow the road southwest, there's a spot… remote, but should give 'em enough time to spot the oil wagon."
Arthur nodded. "They see this thing blocking the tracks, they'll stop soon enough."
"And," John added, "apparently their guards are really few. I mean, really few. They're pickin' up a new set at the state line. Till then, we should be facing only a handful of guns to deal with."
Caleb, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up, voice steady. "So we're putting the oil wagon on the tracks to stop 'em, and then what? What's each of us doing when the train stops?"
Arthur took charge as he laid it out. "Charles, you handle the engineer. Get that train stopped and keep it that way. John, you secure the passenger cart fast. Grab any charitable donations and make sure everyone behaves. Caleb, you're with me. We'll secure the cargo holds from any friendly guards who need some… greetings."
Caleb gave a slow nod. "Sounds good."
Each of them offered small affirmations in response, no wasted words, just the quiet understanding of men preparing to walk the line between violence and necessity.
The ride continued in silence, the sky slowly fading to the deep bruises of twilight. Cicadas chirped, and an owl hooted somewhere far off. Caleb's eyes stayed sharp, constantly scanning the trees and brush.
He adjusted his mask on his belt again, rehearsing the steps mentally, get on the train, clear the guards, take the goods, no unnecessary bloodshed.
They reached the site not long after, where the terrain dipped slightly and the tracks bent gently through a shallow gully flanked by thick woods and rocks. It was a good ambush point. Caleb felt a slight twist of adrenaline stir in his gut.
"Here's good," John called out. "Stop the wagon over the tracks. And remember, there are innocent folks. We handle this right, nobody needs to die here."
Arthur slowed the wagon, guiding it with precision until the wheels rolled up and over the iron rails and halted dead center across the tracks. He pulled the rein, and the horses exhaled in unison, their breath ghosting in the cooling evening air.
The four of them dismounted quickly.
Arthur turned to them, voice brisk but calm. "Masks on."
Caleb pulled the burlap sack over his head, the rough cloth scratching lightly against his cheek. The eye slits gave him a narrow, warped view, but good enough to see and shoot. His breathing sounded louder inside the mask, more real somehow.
Arthur, John, and Charles also pulled through the rough cloth over their face, the slits for eyes giving them an eerie, anonymous appearance.
Charles and Arthur moved quickly to unhitched the horses, slapping their rumps to send them trotting away.
"Mr. Marston, Mr. Smith, and Mr. Thorne!" Arthur called, his voice muffled by the mask. "Get over there. When she slows, board her. I'm gonna make sure she stops."
Without another word, the three of them peeled off, moving with fluid coordination. Caleb ducked behind a thick sycamore tree near the edge of the tracks. John crouched behind a large boulder, and Charles took cover behind a copse of bushes just off the rail.
Arthur turned back, climbing atop the oil wagon with a practiced motion. He took position at the center, carbine repeater in hand, silhouetted against the last vestiges of daylight.
The wind had picked up. A faint whistle broke the stillness.
Then they heard it.
The distant churning of steel wheels grinding against track. The approaching roar of a train cutting through the silence of the wilderness.
Caleb exhaled slowly and reached for his repeater.
The headlamp of the train cut through the dimming blue haze, growing larger. The horn gave a blast. Then another. The engineer must've seen the wagon.
But Arthur didn't budge. The train grew closer, too close, until the hiss of brakes screamed against the rails. Steam burst from the undercarriage, and the train groaned as it slowed violently, coming to a hard stop just a dozen feet from the oil wagon. Arthur leapt down from the wagon and hit the dirt, as he saw the train engineer get down from the train as well.
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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