If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!
Go to https://www.patreon.com/Tang12
...
He lifted his hand in return, giving her a reassuring wave and a grin. "I will!" he shouted back before the wagon turned the corner, the camp fading from sight behind them.
The ride was tense. The horses galloped hard, the wagon rocking on the uneven dirt trail. Miss Grimshaw's expression remained stone cold, eyes locked forward. Arthur's jaw was tight, his knuckles white around the reins. Caleb kept low, scanning the treeline, watching the horizon for any movement.
After a while, Arthur asked, "So where exactly are we goin', Miss Grimshaw?"
Miss Grimshaw replied without hesitation. "They took her to Rhodes, go on quick! The place is Rhadley house, not far, just to the west of Rhodes and north of the Braithwaites manor. Those bastards probably grabbed her when she went to fetch some water."
Arthur cursed under his breath. "Damn Foremans. They never could leave folks alone."
"How do you know that she was taken to this Rhadley house, Miss Grimshaw?" Caleb asked, eyes narrowing as the wagon thumped over a rut and the trees blurred past.
Miss Grimshaw's face hardened, then loosened into something like regret. "When we first arrived at Shady Belle, settlin' up to make it our new camp, it was Tilly who said she was worried."
She kept her voice low though the urgency in it stayed taut. "She told me there was a safe house nearby the Foreman Brothers used from time to time, an old place they'd hide out now and then. Said she didn't much like campin' near it, but we were short on options and she didn't make a fuss. I told her she was bein' silly. Told her we had enough watchmen, that they wouldn't come near us."
Her throat worked, and for a second she looked older than her years, the rough lines around her mouth deeper. "I thought it wouldn't be a problem."
Arthur's jaw tightened. "You told Dutch about it? Did you tell Dutch?" his voice was flat, the question a kind of test.
Miss Grimshaw's shoulders dropped a fraction. "No," she admitted, with a little flare of shame. "I… I spoke to her with confidence, like I just said. Figured I could keep an eye out. Figured we could handle it if anything came of it. Thought makin' it a fuss would rile folks up when there was no reason."
Caleb's hand went instinctively to his revolver as the wagon rolled. He heard the weight of it against his hip in a way that anchored him, small, functional comfort. He looked toward Miss Grimshaw with a steady, cutting calm. "Now it's a problem," he said. "For the Foreman Brothers, not us. They went after the wrong woman. They messed with the wrong people"
Miss Grimshaw's lips pulled back in a brief, ugly smile. "Oh yes. That's true. They're gonna have hell rained down on them sons of bitches." Her tone was fierce, not the proud bluster of bravado but the quiet machine like promise of someone who'd seen enough to know how to deliver payback.
Arthur flicked the reins and the horses picked up speed, the wagon shuddering forward as the road ran faster beneath them. "What'd they want with her, anyway?" he asked, voice low. "Back in Valentine, me and Caleb saw one of them hasslin' her. Came to her rescue, Caleb here, that was the first time he stepped in for one of us. Right?"
Caleb gave a quick, modest tilt of his head. "I was just doin' what a good man should do," he said. "Help someone in need. Especially women and children."
Miss Grimshaw snorted, a wet, rasping sound that might have been a laugh. "You did good. Don't let that fool you, Tilly ain't all ribbons and sunshine." She let the words hang like a thrown glove. "They followed her down here, probably. Don't you know what happened, Arthur? She killed one of 'em. For good reason, but of course they don't see it that way."
Arthur's face went blank for a heartbeat, like a hand had slipped over him. "Tilly?" he echoed, incredulous. "That sweet girl? Killed a man?"
Miss Grimshaw's eyes were blunt and tired and full of a kind of sorrow that only those who've watched folks die know. "Young Tilly Jackson isn't as sweet and innocent as every book might make her out, Arthur. She killed one to save herself. She ran after it. Fell in with us right away. We took her in. I just—" she exhaled and her voice softened in spite of herself, "I just hope we can get to her in time."
Caleb's face tightened. He shifted in his seat so the wagon's sway didn't pull at his balance. "It's not far, Miss Grimshaw, don't worry," he said quietly. "We'll be there soon. We'll teach those bastards a lesson and bring her home."
Miss Grimshaw nodded once, curt and certain. "If those bastards touch a single hair on that girl's head, I'll cut those sons of bitches to pieces."
Arthur's mouth twitched into something like a grin, teasing in tone though his eyes remained watchful. "See? You do care about all of us, Miss Grimshaw."
She made a noise half between a scoff and a bark. "Of course I care. About all of you fools, Caleb and Sadie included. They're new, but they've proven themselves. They're good people, unlike that Micah. I hope he rots in his grave back at Horseshoe Overlook. Some of you require firmer hands. You especially." She jabbed a look at Arthur that made the man finally surprised by it as he didn't expect the jab.
Caleb and Arthur both then let out low chuckles, the tension between them easing fractionally. Caleb tipped a nod in Miss Grimshaw's direction. "Thanks Miss Grimshaw," he said.
Arthur echoed, "Yeah, thanks, Miss Grimshaw."
"Swear on it," Miss Grimshaw grunted back. "All of you'd be in a right mess without someone keepin' you in check."
Caleb glanced at Arthur, and said with a half smile, "True. Especially Sean and Bill."
Arthur barked a short laugh, then his face went hard again. Through the trees ahead, the crumbling shape of Rhadley house came into view, a slope of roof, a porch like a gaping mouth battered by time. There was a man on the porch: a dark-skinned figure, broad-shouldered, hand resting on a repeater. He stood like a statue, watching the road. Miss Grimshaw's eyes narrowed.
"That's our place," she said. "I'll handle the guard."
Arthur pulled the wagon back a few steps and slowed the horses until they had a view and cover. The man on the porch raised the repeater and barked out a single brusque command. "Get the hell outta here!"
Miss Grimshaw unstrapped herself and hopped down to the ground with animal quickness. Arthur followed and leapt lightly from the driver's seat, his boots thudding. Caleb swung down into the dust at the back, taking his revolver with a slow, precise movement. The three of them advanced as if they had rehearsed the motions a hundred times, silent and efficient.
Miss Grimshaw put on a face like she'd been caught off the beaten path, softer, pleading. She moved forward with deliberate charm, a practiced cadence. "We're lost," she said, wide eyed. "We need directions. Don't leave us out here."
The guard's jaw was a line. "I told you to move on," he said. He stepped forward, repeater at the ready, motioning them back. The men in Rhadley, those who'd been left to hold the place, hadn't been told they were about to be assassinated by their own hospitality.
Miss Grimshaw stepped closer, lowering her voice to an insinuating tone. "You know, for the right inducement—" she said, letting the promise trail off.
The man didn't budge. He tightened his grip on the repeater and took another step toward them. The air was full of the metallic smell of distant storm, the horses snorting in the road, the tension thick as tar.
The man's sneer turned into confusion. "What the hell are you—?"
Then Miss Grimshaw moved. She was fast, closer than the man expected, knife in her hand like a flash of winter lightning. She drove the blade into the gap of his neck with a motion that was clinical and merciless. He made a ragged sound, surprised, and his old stance crumpled. The repeater clattered to the porch as he slumped.
Miss Grimshaw straightened, gaze hard as flint. "What are you waiting for?" she snapped to Arthur and Caleb. "Get inside and find our girl Tilly."
Arthur didn't hesitate. "Come on!"
Caleb's boots hit the porch at a run. He drew his navy revolver, cocking it with a practiced movement, fingers steady. He kicked the front door open with the heel of his boot and barged into the parlor with the confidence of a man who expected danger and intended to meet it.
The room inside smelled of stale tobacco and yesterday's stew, a black man stood near the table, his eyes widening as Caleb's revolver cracked. The man fell in a thud, a dark smear across his shirt where the bullet had entered, Caleb didn't watch him die, he kept moving.
A shout came from the right, a voice hoarse and startled. "What the hell's goin' on out there?"
Someone else moved in the back rooms, footsteps thumped. Arthur barreled through, boots heavy, six shooter raised. He rounded the corner into a dimbed chamber and saw, tied to the bed's lower frame, Tilly, mouth gagged, ropes biting into her wrists.
The room smelled of cordage and cheap liquor. A man stood at the edge of the doorway with a pistol of his own, all bluster and ill lit bravado, ready to put his foot down and make sure his authority held. He saw Arthur and arched his shoulders to fire.
Arthur was faster. A single crack from Arthur's revolver cut the man down before he could squeeze the trigger. The man crumpled on the floor, a bright bloom of red darkening his shirt, the fight leaving him all at once.
Arthur moved like a blade, the years and the pain honing him. He rushed to Tilly and with a few efficient, practiced motions cut at the ropes. The gag came free and she sucked in a ragged breath, coughing, eyes wild and unfocused with adrenaline and fear and an odd, stoic fury.
"Easy, Tilly. Easy now," Arthur said simply. "You alright?"
She spat out the cloth and swallowed, her face streaked with salt and something else, tears, or sweat, or both. "I'm fine," she said, voice thin but firm. "Just… took my time gettin' out."
Caleb entered the room, revolver still in hand, scanning for threats. When he saw Tilly safe, he gave a small nod. "We got her."
Miss Grimshaw appeared in the doorway, wiping her knife on a rag. "You two did good. Let's get the girl outta here before more of those bastards show up."
Arthur helped Tilly stand, steadying her as they moved toward the hall. "Can you walk, Tilly?"
"Yes… yes, I can," she said, trembling but determined. "Thank you both."
"Don't thank us yet," Caleb muttered, glancing toward the door. "Let's make sure we get out clean."
They made their way back to the porch, but the sound of hoofbeats thundered from the dirt road. Three more riders appeared, Foreman Brothers men returning to their safe house. They spotted the open door and the bodies inside, immediately shouting and drawing their guns. Arthur cursed. "Damn it! Company!"
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 7/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 7/10
- Luck: 8/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 4)
- Rifle (Lvl 4)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 4)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 3)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 4)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 4)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 3)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 3)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 3)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 2)
- Crafting (Lvl 3)
- Persuasion (Lvl 3)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 4)
- Teaching (Lvl 2)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 10x10x10)
- Acting (Lvl 4)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
Money: 3,655 dollars and 10 cents
Inventory: 104,669 dollars and 72 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 64 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, & 1 Ruby
Bank: -