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Caleb deposited his bowl and spoon into the tin wash basin at the side of the wagon, then walked over to his tent to gather his gear. He grabbed his bow, a quiver of arrows, and his knife. He also slung his Lancaster repeater over his back, just in case larger game wandered into range.
After taking his gear, he glanced around the camp. Karen was already in an argument with Miss Grimshaw about work around camp. Uncle was dozing in the shade. Abigail was trying to keep young Jack focused on his reading. Dutch's tent remained closed, a dark bubble of silence and tension.
It was then he noticed Mary-Beth who was hanging laundry nearby. She caught his eye and smiled.
"Off somewhere?" she asked, shaking out a damp shirt before pinning it to the line.
"Hunting," Caleb replied, showing his repeater over his shoulder. "Pearson's running low on meat."
Mary-Beth's nose wrinkled playfully. "Thank goodness. If I have to eat one more bowl of stew using his 'mystery meat,' I might revolt."
Caleb chuckled. "I'll do my best to spare you that fate."
She hesitated, then stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Be careful out there. This is a new area for us to stay on after all, don't want anything to happen to you now do we?"
Caleb's smile faded slightly. "I'll keep my eyes open, don't worry Mary-Beth."
Mary-Beth nodded, then surprised him by reaching out to adjust the collar of his coat, her fingers brushing against his neck for the briefest moment. "You better."
The simple touch sent a jolt through him. Before he could respond, Miss Grimshaw's voice cut through the air.
"Mary-Beth! What are you doing?! Those linens won't hang themselves!"
Mary-Beth rolled her eyes but stepped back. "Be careful out there."
Caleb tipped his hat. "I'll see you tonight. Save me a seat by the fire."
Her smile was all the answer he needed.
After that, Caleb walked toward the hitching post and with a deep breath, mounted his Morgan and kicked off into the trees.
The forest greeted him like an old friend. Birds chirped from hidden perches. The rustling of critters underbrush set his senses on edge, tuning his ears and eyes to the rhythm of the hunt.
Caleb activated his Eagle Eye skill, and the world took on that ethereal shimmer. Tracks appeared on the ground, glowing slightly, a trail of hoofprints and disturbed grass.
Dismounting, he followed the trail carefully, crouched and silent, taking his time as his Perception (8/10) and Sneaking (Lvl 2) skills made it easy to track the animal without alerting it. The first sign of life was a pair of rabbits darting near a creek. With practiced ease, he nocked an arrow, pulled the string back smoothly, and released.
One rabbit dropped instantly. The other bolted, but Caleb gave chase, staying low. Another shot, another clean kill.
He retrieved both animals, tied them to his saddle, and continued deeper into the woods.
About twenty minutes later, he spotted the glint of a white tailed deer grazing near a patch of wildflowers. Caleb slowed his breath, crouched in the brush, and switched to his rifle.
He took aim, adjusting for distance and wind like his skill in Firearms Knowledge taught him. A single crack echoed through the trees, and the deer collapsed in the grass.
By the time he finished field dressing it and loading it on Morgan, the sun was starting to dip from its highest point. Caleb let himself smile, just a little. Not a bad haul. Enough meat to keep the gang fed for the next few days.
He rode back to camp slowly, enjoying the peace, the solitude. These were the moments he treasured, when the noise of camp politics faded and the only things that mattered were breath, wind, and instinct.
As he entered camp again, Pearson waved from his station.
"Hot damn! That's what I'm talkin' about!" the cook bellowed. "You've done great work yet again, Caleb. We'll be eating good tonight.".
Caleb dismounted and began unloading the game with Pearson's help.
Caleb stretched his arms, joints cracking slightly as he unloaded the dressed carcass of the whitetailed deer onto Pearson's wooden counter. The older man was already salivating over the meat, eyeing it like it was gold. Caleb didn't stick around to hear Pearson mumble about stew recipes, he had other things on his mind.
After helping the camp's overworked cook, Caleb took it upon himself to lend a hand around camp. It wasn't glamorous, but it gave him time to think. With axe in hand, he split firewood behind the camp's main fire pit, the rhythmic chock of wood splitting a strange kind of meditation. He finished and moved the logs closer to the fire ring, making sure the pile was neat.
Next, he hoisted heavy sacks of chicken feed from the makeshift storage wagon, Pearson's cluttered space wasn't far, and dropped them near the coop, the birds already clucking noisily at the sound of food. Sweat clung to his back, and his muscles burned, but he pushed through.
Finally, he moved bales of hay from the side of the camp to the horse pen. Each bale was heavier than it looked, but he got the job done, brushing strands of hay off his clothes as he sat down on a wooden crate by the fire, catching his breath.
From where he sat, he had a decent view of the camp. Miss Grimshaw still barked orders while Tilly followed them through. Mary-Beth had moved to darning clothes now, humming to herself softly. Reverend Swanson was, well... being himself getting drunk.
Strauss was busy with his bookkeeping, which was his activity every single day and Caleb was sure that he
Dutch's tent was finally open, and Caleb spotted the man stepping out slowly, like a storm cloud materializing into flesh.
Dutch lit a cigar, the smoke curling like a snake above his head. He walked with deliberate calm toward the riverbank. Not long after, Arthur approached him. Their conversation was short, unreadable from Caleb's distance, but their posture was casual.
Then Hosea joined them near the hitching post, brushing his horse with quiet patience. Dutch said something which Hosea returned, then a short conversation happened, and soon the three mounted up and rode out, following the dusty trail out of camp.
Caleb exhaled slowly. There it is.
That was the beginning of the mission he remembered fondly, The New South. Caleb always loved that part of the game, the quiet before the storm.
The way Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea bonded as three old friends, sharing stories and memories while going fishing. The warmth, the laughter… it was one of the last times Dutch felt human before spiraling further into madness and the labyrinth of his own mind.
He knew what came after.
The encounter with Sheriff Leigh Gray and Deputy Archibald MacGregor. Trelawny, locked in a wagon. The Anderson boys' escape. The train chase. Arthur is proving himself once more. Trelawny freed, Dutch charming the sheriff, and then…
Then it all unraveled.
Dutch, seduced by the idea of playing both the Braithwaites and the Grays against each other, would push too far. Sean would die. Jack would be taken. The gang would be forced to flee again. Caleb couldn't let that happen. But interfering outright would raise suspicions. He needed to be subtle.
Caleb's jaw clenched. This was his chance. He had time. He could prepare, intercept, and influence the plan before it spiraled into disaster. He needed to talk to Hosea, maybe Arthur. Plant seeds of caution. Dutch wouldn't be easy to rein in, but if anyone could help steer the gang, it was them.
He ran a hand through his hair, lost in thought when he heard a familiar voice bark his name.
"Caleb!"
He looked up and saw a mop of wild auburn hair bouncing his way, none other than Sean MacGuire, grinning like he'd won the lottery. The Irishman's gait was cocky as ever, rifle slung casually over one shoulder.
Caleb smirked. "What is it, Sean?"
Sean extended both of his hands dramatically motioning for Caleb to calm down. "Whoa there, easy now, big fella. Just came over to ask if you'd like to go out and do some robbin' with your good ol' pal Sean MacGuire."
Caleb let out a tired sigh, then flashed a crooked grin. "Sure, of course. I'm absolutely honored to rob with the great Mr. MacGuire himself."
Sean gasped, placing a hand over his heart. "Oh, don't be such a sarcastic bastard. Arthur's really rubbin' off on ya."
Caleb laughed, shrugging. "Well, maybe a little."
"But listen," Sean leaned in, dropping his voice just enough to pretend they were sharing a grand scheme, "since you've so sarcastically agreed to join me, I'll do you the favor of findin' us the perfect score. You just sit tight and wait for your lucky Irish charm to deliver the goods, eh?"
Caleb raised an eyebrow. "You sure you're not just lookin' for a way to wander off and charm some poor farmer's daughter?"
Sean winked. "Can't a man do both?"
Caleb waved him off. "Go on then, Mr. MacGuire. Find us something worth the trouble. Just don't come back with a plan that involves five Pinkertons and a shootout in the middle of town. Or robbing a poor fella with just three dollars to his name."
Sean laughed, turning as he walked backward toward his tent. "No promises, lad! But when I come back with a proper target, you better not back out!"
Caleb nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Go find a real one and I'll be there.".
As Sean wandered off, probably to nap or bother Lenny with his schemes, not looking for the target now, Caleb sat back on the crate again, staring at the sky.
He could feel the wind changing. The mission had begun. The Grays. The Braithwaites. The road to Shady Belle. The road to Saint Denis. The road to ruin.
He had a much bigger role to play now. The World enters into a new chapter, with new familiar challenges he had to help the gang pass through. With his memories and foresight, Caleb was uniquely positioned to rewrite this tragic tale.
If he could save Sean, keep him alive through the ambush even though he has a penchant to let him die as well, since the annoying antics Sean has you see in game and real life were very different.
If he could protect Jack, keep the boy from being taken, and cause Abigail and John to worry, while keeping Dutch and Hosea away from Saint Denis as well, so that the Saint Denis Bank Robbery doesn't happen.
Then maybe, just maybe, he could push the gang toward a much more better time. More peace. More chances to escape the spiral of violence Dutch would lead them into.
He stood up from the crate, the fire crackling beside him. The sun had begun to dip, casting long shadows across the camp.
Mary-Beth walked past with a bundle of laundry. She offered him a soft smile, and he returned it. Maybe he should go and talk to Hosea. Maybe Arthur too, when Dutch told them to investigate about the Grays and Braithwites.
He'd begin laying the foundation for a new strategy one that didn't rely on betrayal and risky power plays. And if he could get Hosea to see the danger in Dutch's plan early enough, maybe they could all stay one step ahead.
After that it slowly become night, and the gang gathered around the campfire, sharing stories and passing bottles. Dutch, Arthur, and Hosea had returned from their fishing trip with a boat like in the game, and Dutch was in unusually high spirits, laughing loudly at one of Uncle's terrible jokes.
Caleb sat beside Mary-Beth, their shoulders brushing as they listened to Javier strum his guitar. The moment was peaceful, almost idyllic, but Caleb couldn't shake the unease gnawing at him. "So," Arthur muttered, dropping onto the log beside Caleb. "Heard Sean managed to roped you into one of his schemes, huh?"
...
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 3)
- Poker (Lvl 3)
- 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)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 2)
- Teaching (Lvl 1)
- Germanic Language Proficiency (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 5x5x5)
Money: 463 dollars and 45 cents
Inventory: 1000 dollars, 2 gold nuggets, and 1 gold bar
Bank: 320 dollars, 4 gold bars, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets