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Leaving Dutch behind for a long, terrible moment. Dutch sat there on his horse, breath trembling, face twisting with rage, disbelief, and fear, fear of losing the group, fear of losing control, fear of being left out. His paranoia surged like fire through dry brush. And so Dutch spurred his horse, seething, and followed the others, though he hated every second of it.
They raced hard.
Through sharp bends, muddy slopes, and narrow trails until the distant sound of gunfire burst into the air.
Close.
Very close.
Caleb leaned down, pushing Morgan faster.
The trees parted—
And the battlefield came into view.
Javier crouched behind two large boulders, clutching his side where blood leaked between his fingers. He was still firing with his remaining revolver, trying to hold off around twenty Pinkertons and guards spread across the clearing.
Several Pinkertons and guards already lay dead around him, proof that Dutch and Bill had helped kills some before Javier fought like hell to keep them off bay.
But he was surrounded.
And running out of time.
"CABRONES!" Javier shouted at his attackers, firing blind over the rock. "I'm not dyin' here!"
The Pinkertons continued to close in, all kinds of guns raised, preparing to finish him, until they saw the Van der Linde gang riding in full force.
Arthur, eyes blazing, yelled first. "JAVIER!! HOLD ON!!"
Javier's head snapped toward the sound. When he saw the group charging in, his face broke into stunned, relieved joy.
"You came…!" he shouted. "You really—!"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
Because the gang was already moving.
Caleb jumped off Morgan mid gallop, hitting the dirt in a roll before sliding behind a fallen log. He immediately fired two shots, dropping the closest Pinkerton.
Arthur leapt behind a tree and opened fire.
Sadie, wild as ever, slid off her horse while shooting from the hip.
Charles instantly nocked an arrow and let it fly, nailing one man in the throat.
Sean dove behind a stump, shouting loud enough to alert the entire county. "JAVIER, YOU MAD BASTARD! DON'T YOU DIE ON US! NOT TODAY!"
John fired rapid shots from cover, forcing a group of Pinkertons back behind some rocks.
Lenny flanked left, firing precisely with every pull of the trigger.
Bill charged forward with a roar, forcing Pinkertons to redirect their aim.
Hosea, though older, slower, and breathing heavy, still knelt behind a tree and fired with steady hands.
Dutch hesitated for a split second… but seeing everyone else commit, he fired too, though far less effectively.
The clearing erupted into chaos.
Pinkertons shouting.
Gunshots cracking through trees.
Branches splintering.
Dirt exploding into the air.
Caleb switched into his Dead Eye Skill, the world turned yellow hue as he put three fast red X marks, and let the three fast shots go.
Three Pinkertons fell.
Arthur nailed another that tried to rush him.
Sadie ran nearly out in the open, firing both barrels of her shotgun, forcing two Pinkertons to dive for cover.
Charles took out two more with clean, surgical arrows.
Lenny shot a guard in the chest.
Sean jumped up to shout "EAT SHITE!" and shot a man right between the eyes.
John blew the kneecap off one guard, then shot another in the gut.
Bill, fueled by guilt, fought viciously, taking down two with controlled bursts of repeater fire.
Caleb slid behind another tree, before then he immediately fired two fast shots causing two more dead.
Pinkertons and the guards dropped left and right.
But they kept coming.
They pushed hard, angry, determined, refusing to fall back despite the gang's superior position, firepower, and team work.
One Pinkerton rushed Javier's position, pulling back his revolver for a kill shot—
Caleb saw him.
"JAVIER, DOWN!" he shouted.
Javier ducked.
Caleb fired.
The bullet hit the Pinkerton square in the forehead.
Javier gasped. "Gracias, hermano!"
Caleb reloaded fast. "Don't thank me yet!"
The fight intensified.
The last clusters of Pinkertons regrouped behind fallen logs and tree stumps, trying to form firing lines. They unleashed a hail of bullets, forcing Arthur, Sadie, Sean, and Charles to duck.
But Caleb, breathing hard, eyes sharp, lifted his rifle and marked three more.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
They fell.
Arthur stood, firing again. "We got 'em on the run!"
Sadie screamed, "KILL 'EM ALL!"
Sean laughed like a lunatic. "THAT'S RIGHT! RUN, YA COWARDS!"
John shot another in the chest as he tried to retreat.
Charles' arrow pinned one to a tree.
Bill killed two out of pure fury.
Finally—
Only one Pinkerton remained.
He turned and ran for the woods—
Caleb didn't even hesitate.
Dead Eye.
One shot.
The man fell face down.
Silence swept the clearing like a fresh breeze.
Javier, breathing hard, slumped against the rock, relief pouring off him. "I thought… I thought I was done."
Arthur clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Not while we're around."
Sadie smirked. "Bastards couldn't kill ya even if they tried."
Sean goes to take the lockbox from the stagecoach and then plopped down in the dirt behind a stump after hitching the lockbox on his horse. "Saints above… I need a drink."
Charles immediately went to check Javier's wound, inspecting it calmly. "Bullet didn't go too deep. You'll live."
Javier winced. "Feels like hell."
"But you'll live," Charles repeated.
Hosea nodded, letting out a long breath. "Thank the stars."
John reloaded again. "Pinkertons keep pushing this hard… we're gonna be in real trouble soon."
Bill stared at Javier with guilt clear in his eyes. "I'm… I'm sorry, Javier. I should've—"
Javier cut him off with a weak grin. "You came back, hermano. That's what matters."
Caleb surveyed the bodies. Twenty Pinkertons. And plenty dead before they arrived.
He nodded once. They'd saved Javier.
But in doing so… Dutch's face said everything.
Fear of losing loyalty. Anger at being challenged. Paranoia eating him alive.
The gang regrouped around Javier, helping him stand. Arthur and Charles supported him on each side.
Dutch finally forced a smile. "We did good here, boys. We did real good."
No one responded.
They all knew who made the decisions today.
Who read the land.
Who kept them alive.
Who refused to leave a friend behind.
This wasn't the end of the danger.
It was the beginning.
The Pinkertons were escalating deliberately.
And Dutch, already cracking, would only make things worse.
But for now—
Javier lived.
The gang stood.
And the fight wasn't over.
Not even close.
Caleb watched the treeline, expression hardening.
Because that matched the mission.
Because he knew this wasn't the end.
Lenny, noticing his tension, asked quietly, "You expecting more?"
Caleb nodded. "Probably. This is the last group of the pattern. Means they might be sending a cleanup crew soon. We need to move."
Sadie grinned fiercely. "Then what're we standin' around for? Let's ride!"
Arthur helped Javier to his feet. Charles offered support on the other side.
Bill hovered near him, guilt carved deep into his posture.
Dutch walked stiffly, silently, his expression sour and contemplative.
And Caleb… Caleb remained alert. Watching the branches. Listening to every breeze.
He felt something.
Something wrong.
A rumble in the distance.
Hooves?
Wagons?
Movement.
His eyes narrowed.
"Yes," he muttered under his breath. "They're coming."
He raised his voice. "Everyone mount up now! We ride hard and fast!"
Arthur didn't question him. "You heard him! MOVE!"
The gang scrambled for their horses. Javier was hoisted onto his mount with help from Bill and Charles.
Dutch mounted last, eyes flickering with anger, paranoia, and resentment.
They rode out of the clearing at full speed, heading for higher ground, and together, battered but alive, the Van der Linde gang rode off, the forest swallowing the bodies behind them as dusk settled across the land.
The ride back to Shady Belle held a kind of silence that didn't just sit between people, it pressed on them. A silence born of exhaustion, anger, shock, and the unspoken memory of how close they'd come to losing Javier.
Caleb led the formation, his expression carved from stone, eyes fixed ahead while his mind stayed in the woods behind them, replaying everything. The hooves thudded softly in wet earth as the sun dipped lower behind the trees.
He rode ahead, guiding through the safest way he knew, avoiding the low roads where Pinkertons sometimes scouted, skirting the marsh paths that could trap a horse if the mud swallowed too deep.
Behind him rode Hosea and Arthur, the two men who usually held Dutch up on a pedestal he no longer earned. Tonight their reins hung loose in their hands, shoulders heavy, minds turning over the reality neither of them wanted to face.
Dutch.
For the first time in this gang's history, he rode at the very back.
Behind John.
Behind Javier who was wounded.
Behind Sadie, Charles, Lenny.
Behind Sean, still muttering curses under his breath.
Behind Bill, whose guilt weighed him down like chainmail soaked in river water.
Dutch didn't say a word. Not to defend himself. Not to justify. Not to command. Not even to pretend.
And not a single person, not Hosea, not Arthur, not Charles, not even jovial Lenny, said a word to him either.
The rhythm of the ride had always been Dutch's place of pride. He rode at the front because Dutch led. Because Dutch made decisions, gave direction, settled fear, stirred the gang's hopes, kept their world together with sheer force of voice.
But today?
He was a ghost trailing behind them.
Hollow.
Ashamed.
Paranoid.
And silently furious, most of all at Caleb.
Hosea's voice cut through the quiet, not loudly, just enough for Caleb and Arthur to hear. "We need to think ahead. We can go through the swamp bend, maybe cut an some time if we—"
Caleb turned slightly in his saddle. "Hosea… should we press on all the way tonight, or rest now and leave in the morning? Or push through tomorrow night? The Pinkertons might not chase us now since they will be doing clean up, but I think they'll regroup."
He said it respectfully. Calm. Not commanding. Asking.
Hosea blinked, surprised, not at the question, but at the implication behind it. Caleb was deferring leadership. Not to Dutch… but to him.
He slowly turned to look behind them.
John was quiet, breathing through tension.
Javier leaned heavily in his saddle, jaw clenched from pain, Bill hovering close enough to catch him if he slipped.
Sadie's rage hadn't cooled at all; her jaw was clenched, shotgun still across her lap like she hoped someone would be stupid enough to appear.
Charles kept scanning the treeline, calm but alert.
Lenny rode steady, but his eyes were sharp with lingering adrenaline.
Sean's chatter had died. Even he wasn't in the mood to joke.
And Dutch…
Dutch kept his eyes on the ground, not meeting a single gaze.
Hosea turned back to Caleb. "We need to stop for now," he said softly. "Everyone's exhausted. Javier needs time and proper attention."
Arthur added, "He ain't gonna make it through the night ride without passing out. Man's bleedin' through his shirt."
Caleb nodded. "All right. We'll follow your plan."
He hesitated, lowering his voice even more. "You should direct us for now, Hosea. Dutch needs to… rest. Maybe get his head cleared. I know I haven't met the Dutch everyone talks about, the old Dutch. The one before Blackwater."
Hosea exhaled, the weight of those words landing deep. The mention of Blackwater always cut him like a blunt knife.
Arthur's shoulders sagged. "You got no idea how different he was before. Man could talk us into doin' anything. But he wasn't… like this."
Caleb nodded once. "Then let's give him the chance to breathe. And give everyone else a chance to recover too."
Hosea's voice softened with sadness. "Yeah. That sounds right. That sounds… fair."
Arthur murmured, "Fair as we can be."
And the silence returned, not the same tense silence as before, but heavier. Accepting. Acknowledging what had been broken. They rode on without a word until the first shapes of Shady Belle appeared between the moss hung trees. The rotting columns. The half toppled statue. The cracked fountain basin filled with rainwater and a few drifting leaves.
...
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: -