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Dutch's smirk returned, though it carried less satisfaction now, more cruelty. His vengeance sated by her complete and total destruction. "Let her be," he declared, his voice cold. "Let her rot here with what's left of her 'sacred house.' Come on everyone! To the horses! We're going home!"
Catherine's laugh bubbled up again, broken and manic, tears streaking down her soot stained face. She cackled and sobbed all at once, a grotesque picture of a woman whose world had ended.
Arthur laid a hand gently on Penelope's shoulder. She flinched but didn't resist, following his subtle signal to turn away. "Come on," Arthur murmured. "Nothin' left to see here."
One by one, the gang began to move toward their horses, the job done, the vengeance complete.
All but Caleb.
He lingered, watching Catherine.
"C'mon, Caleb!" Arthur called, already mounted, with Penelope seated behind him.
"Yeah! You and Penelope go on ahead! I'll be right behind you!" Caleb shouted back.
Caleb's attention then returned to Catherine Braithwaite. She was staring at the flames, her body rocking as her laughter turned into hysterical sobs. Then, suddenly, she lurched to her feet. With a wild cry, she stumbled toward the burning doorway, her arms outstretched as if she meant to fling herself into the fire and join her sons.
Caleb acted without hesitation. He didn't see nobility in her suicide. He saw only a final, twisted act of control from a woman who had orchestrated the kidnapping of a child. He raised his Pump Action Shotgun, the steel warm from the ambient heat. One breath. One squeeze.
BOOM.
The blast echoed across the yard, a brutal period at the end of a violent sentence. Catherine was thrown forward, her journey into the flames cut short. She lay still on the veranda, the fire reaching for her.
The sudden violence drew every head. The gang froze, then turned toward Caleb.
Smoke curled from the barrel of his shotgun. His face was calm, his eyes cold. He lowered the weapon without a word.
But no one protested. They had all seen the madness in her eyes, it was a mercy, in its own harsh way, and a denial of her final wish. They simply turned back to their horses, the act accepted as part of the night's grim work.
Caleb turned and broke into a quick jog, the shotgun smoking in his hand. He reached Morgan and swung up into the saddle. Sadie's horse was beside his, and she gave him a sharp grin as he swung into the saddle. Her eyes, still blazing with the night's violence, met his.
"Good work," she said, her voice low and fierce. "Shootin' that old hag. I wanted to put a bullet in her the moment I laid eyes on her."
Caleb allowed himself the faintest smile. "Didn't like the idea of her goin' out on her own terms," he said simply.
Sadie chuckled darkly. "That's the spirit."
Dutch, mounted now at the front of the group, raised his voice over the crackle of the burning manor. "Tonight, we have shown the world what it means to threaten our family!" he proclaimed, his voice ringing with restored authority. "We have faced the fire and we have brought our boy home! We have done great work! Now, let us ride back to camp, to the women, to the rest of our family! Let's go home and celebrate this victory!"
A chorus of agreement rose from the gang. One by one, they wheeled their horses around, the fire at their backs.
Caleb stroked Morgan's neck, feeling her muscles coil as she prepared to run. He cast one last glance at the fallen figure of Catherine Braithwaite, half lit by the flames of her crumbling empire. Then he turned forward, heels nudging Morgan into motion.
Together, the Van der Linde gang rode into the night, leaving the ashes of the Braithwaite dynasty behind them.
The ride back wasn't that long as they took the same route, but the air was alive with tension and also relief. Jack's soft sobs broke the silence now and then, but John held him tight, whispering reassurances.
Dutch rode tall, triumphant, though the flicker in his eyes suggested his mind was already spinning toward Bronte, toward Saint Denis. Hosea said little, his gaze distant, no doubt weighing the consequences of what they had done.
Caleb kept near Arthur and Penelope. The young woman was holding Arthur's back stiffly, eyes fixed ahead, not once looking back at the glow of her family home burning on the horizon. Arthur spared her a look behind, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable.
The gang rode hard through the dark fields, the flames of the Braithwaite manor still visible behind them as a red glow against the night sky. The sound of Flat Iron Lake's waters and the rustle of the trees ahead told them they were nearing home.
At last, the riders entered the thick woods surrounding camp. Branches whipped against shoulders, horses' hooves snapped fallen twigs, and the familiar scents of pine and smoke mixed with the damp night air. The forest seemed to close in on them, a tunnel guiding them back to safety.
Within minutes, the trees broke apart and the camp revealed itself on the shoreline of Flat Iron Lake. The moonlight glistened off the lake's dark waters, and beyond, their quiet little world stood waiting, lamps glowing faintly, the outlines of wagons and tents nestled beneath the trees.
Two figures stood on guard at the entrance, rifles ready. Uncle leaned lazily against a tree but perked up when he saw the returning riders, while Kieran stood stiff and alert, his repeater gripped tightly in both hands.
"They're back!" Kieran shouted, voice cracking with excitement. Uncle, despite his usual laziness, joined in. "They're back! Everyone, they're back!"
The camp stirred like a hive struck with a stick. Voices rose, lanterns swung, and soon the first figure came running out of the shadows. Abigail.
She was barefoot, her shawl half draped around her shoulders, her face wet with tears before she had even reached them. Her eyes locked on the small figure perched in front of John.
"Jack!" she screamed, her voice splitting with joy and grief all at once. "Oh, my baby boy! You found my baby boy!"
She nearly tripped in her rush, but John slowed his horse to meet her. Jack, weary and dazed, lifted his head just in time to see her. His small hands reached for her.
"Mama!"
The word broke something inside Abigail. She sobbed aloud, reaching up as John carefully lifted the boy into her arms. She clutched him so tightly it seemed she would never let him go again, her face pressed into his hair. "I got you. I got you back. Thank God, I got you back."
The rest of the camp spilled out around them. Molly, Mary-Beth, Karen, and Tilly came running together, skirts hiked, voices raised in cries of relief. Miss Grimshaw strode briskly, though her face betrayed emotion despite her usual sternness.
Pearson lumbered forward, hands still smelling of grease and stew. Reverend Swanson came stumbling out, already teary-eyed, while finally Strauss emerged last, already in his sleeping clothes, robe tied loosely and face screwed up like someone who'd been woken from a dream.
When they all saw Jack in Abigail's arms, the camp erupted in cheers and cries of happiness. Even the Reverend clapped his hands and muttered blessings, while Uncle slapped Kieran on the back, laughing, though Strauss merely folded his arms, muttering something inaudible as always.
Dutch was the first to dismount, his boots hitting the dirt with a solid thud. He spread his arms wide like a conquering hero, his grin bright despite the soot and blood still on his face. The others followed, dismounting one by one.
John, still standing close, wrapped an arm around Abigail and Jack, drawing them both into him. For the first time in years, he didn't look like a man on the outside of his own family. He held them tight, his jaw trembling, eyes wet. Abigail, between sobs, managed words:
"Thank you… thank you, all of you… but John…" She pressed her forehead against his chest. "You… you brought him back to me. You saved our boy."
John swallowed hard, unable to speak. His arms simply tightened, holding Abigail and Jack together, his head bowed as if in prayer.
Meanwhile, Caleb slid down from Morgan's back, his muscles stiff from the ride but heart lighter than it had been in weeks. He turned to Arthur's horse where Penelope sat, still clutching the saddle horn nervously. "Here," Caleb said, stepping forward. He reached up and offered his hand.
She hesitated, but then took it, letting him help her down with careful steadiness. Her feet touched the ground and she murmured, "Thank you."
Arthur dismounted right after her, giving Caleb a nod of thanks for the assist. Caleb smiled faintly, then heard his name softly spoken.
Mary-Beth.
She was walking toward him, her steps hesitant but her eyes wide with relief. Caleb's expression melted instantly into a gentle smile. He opened his arms without a word.
Mary-Beth hesitated, cheeks flushing, glancing around at the others, but then, ignoring her embarrassment, she stepped into him. Caleb wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly.
"I'm back," he whispered into her hair.
Mary-Beth's voice was soft but steady. "I knew you would be." She pulled back just enough to look him over, her brows furrowed. "You didn't get shot? Or cut? Not even a scratch?"
Caleb chuckled quietly. "No. I'm fine."
But Mary-Beth narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced. She slipped from his embrace and her hands began to check him, first his face, then his shoulders, then brushing down his arms, chest, and sides. He stood patiently, even amused, as she inspected him for wounds. When she found none, she finally let out a relieved breath, her hand lingering on his sleeve. "Good," she said softly.
Dutch's booming voice suddenly cut through the air, pulling everyone's attention. He stepped forward, his revolver still hanging at his side, his coat swaying with each dramatic motion. His eyes burned with fierce pride.
"My friends!" he bellowed, sweeping his arms out. "Tonight, we have done what few others would dare! We have faced down a family that thought themselves untouchable. We have taken back what was ours, Jack Marston! Safe and sound, from the clutches of those inbred devils!"
The crowd roared their agreement. Even Abigail, still clutching Jack, looked up, her tearstained face shining with gratitude.
"And those Braithwaite bastards learned tonight what it means to cross us!" Dutch thundered on. "They will think twice, if any of them remain, before they mess with us. With this family. Because that's what we are! A family!"
Cheers broke out again, loud enough to echo off the lake. Arthur gave a small smirk, but his eyes remained cautious, weighing Dutch's words. Hosea watched silently, pipe in hand, his gaze thoughtful rather than jubilant.
Dutch raised a hand for silence, his grin broadening. "And so, tonight, we celebrate! Pearson, Miss Grimshaw, prepare food and drink! Let this camp know joy, let it sing with laughter! For tonight is a night to be remembered, as the night we stood tall for our family!"
Pearson puffed out his chest, saluting with a grin. "Aye, Dutch, I'll get the pots boilin'!"
Miss Grimshaw already had her arms folded, barking orders before Dutch had even finished. "Karen! Tilly! Help with the bread! Molly, fetch more plates! Move, girls, move!"
The camp came alive instantly, voices rising, feet rushing, lanterns glowing brighter. Caleb, meanwhile, felt Mary-Beth's hand slip from his arm as her attention turned. She had noticed Penelope, who stood quietly beside Arthur, her eyes low, her expression solemn. Mary-Beth leaned closer to Caleb, whispering, "Who is she?"
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 7/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 6/10
- Luck: 8/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 4)
- Rifle (Lvl 3)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 3)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 2)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 3)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 4)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 2)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 3)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 1)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 0)
- Crafting (Lvl 3)
- Persuasion (Lvl 3)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 4)
- Teaching (Lvl 2)
- Germanic Language Proficiency (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 10x10x10)
- Acting (Lvl 3)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
Money: 1,814 dollars and 46 cents
Inventory: 103,988 dollars and 50 cents, 7 gold nuggets, 58 gold bars, 7 silver rings, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 large bags of jewelry, 4 gold rings, 2 silver rings, 4 silver pocket watches, 3 gold buckles, 1 gold pocket compass, 2 platinum pocket watches, 2 Colm's Schofields, and land deed (Parcel)
Bank: -