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...
They headed upstairs, footsteps echoing softly on the wooden steps. Once inside the room, Caleb set Mary-Beth's luggage down carefully near the bed. The room was just as he remembered, clean, simple, with a sturdy desk by the window that let in the afternoon light.
"You can rest here if you want," Caleb said. "I'll go check on the restaurant and bring us dinner."
Mary-Beth moved to the desk chair and sat, already opening her bag. "Actually… I want to start editing right away. While it's fresh."
He smiled. "Figured you would."
She glanced up at him. "Be safe."
"I will."
He left her there, sunlight catching the edge of her hair as she leaned over her pages, already lost in thought.
The restaurant was lively when Caleb arrived. Not chaotic, disciplined. That had been the goal from the start.
Strauss stood near the counter with Jasper, both men bent over the ledger, voices low. The others moved efficiently between tables, delivering plates, wiping surfaces, refilling glasses, and taking empty plates or bowls. The hum of conversation filled the space, punctuated by laughter and the smell of burgers and fries.
Caleb took it all in with quiet satisfaction.
Strauss noticed him and straightened. "Everything is in order Mr. Thorne," he said. "Daily earnings are steady. No irregularities."
Jasper nodded. "The restaurant reputation's are growin' even further, Caleb. Many folks come now from other states more frequently."
"Good," Caleb replied. "That's what matters."
He ordered couple of burgers, fries, and ice creams to take back, simple, filling meals, and while it was being prepared, he stepped outside briefly, eyes drifting toward the far edge of town. Construction crews would be arriving soon. Land deals were in motion. The pieces were aligning.
Over the next few days, Valentine became their temporary center.
Caleb met with George, Seth, and Elias, who finally got their first real work from Caleb after agreeing on becoming his employees for construction. Money changed hands quietly, efficiently.
No important informations are spoken and Caleb only gave them what he would like the house, barn, fences, and many more. Lasty, he doesn't want unnecessary attention drawn.
Meanwhile Mary-Beth spent her mornings and afternoons in the hotel room, papers spread across the desk, occasionally pacing as she muttered lines to herself, refining dialogue, adjusting pacing.
Sometimes Caleb would return to find her staring out the window, deep in thought, before scribbling furiously again.
In the evenings, they always ate together, discussing progress.
"The third book," Mary-Beth said one night, eyes bright, "it really starts to connect everything. Themes. Choices. Consequences."
Caleb nodded. "That's when the story stops bein' just a story."
She hesitated, then added, "I asked around today. Information for connections to trusted publishers and printers. Not directly, of course. Just… questions."
"And?"
"There's quite good information gained," she said quietly. "Some of them read the book and says if it's finished, they would love to connect her."
Caleb smiled. "It will be."
Meanwhile, Strauss continued his work with relentless focus. Funds flowed where they needed to. Payments were staggered, layered, protected. The land purchase finalized without issue. Construction began at dawn each day, hammers and sawing ringing out across the fields just beyond Valentine.
Caleb rode out daily to oversee it, speaking with George, Seth, and Elias, inspecting foundations, adjusting plans. The house took shape slowly but surely, a real structure, not a temporary shelter. Walls. A roof. Space for children. A fence line marked carefully around the property.
Charles visited briefly to confirm water access, nodding in approval. "It'll last," he said simply.
That was enough.
One evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the fields gold, Caleb stood alone near the half built house. The air smelled of sawdust and fresh earth. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine it finished.
The gang arriving quietly. Jack running along the fence. Abigail watching from the porch. Pearson complaining about storage space. Arthur leaning against a post, pretending not to smile.
A future that didn't end in fire and blood. He mounted Morgan and rode back into town, resolve firming with every step.
Caleb rode Morgan back into Valentine as the afternoon stretched toward evening, the town bathed in that familiar golden hue where everything felt just a little calmer, a little more forgiving. The half built house lingered in his mind, the way the beams fit together, the sound of hammers striking nails, the quiet competence of men doing honest work for honest pay. It grounded him. Anchored him.
He hitched Morgan at the hotel once more and stepped inside, the air cooler than outside. The clerk nodded at him again, already used to his comings and goings. Caleb returned the greeting and climbed the stairs without lingering.
When he opened the door to his room, he paused.
Mary-Beth was asleep on the bed, turned slightly on her side, one arm tucked beneath the pillow, auburn hair spilling loosely across the white sheets. Afternoon light filtered through the window, painting her in warm tones. One of her notebooks lay open on the desk, pen still resting across the page as if she had simply surrendered to exhaustion mid thought.
Caleb's expression softened instantly.
He closed the door quietly behind him and crossed the room with measured steps. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. She stirred faintly but didn't wake, breathing evening out again almost immediately.
He smiled.
Carefully, he rose and moved toward the desk. One notebook turned into several, neatly stacked, filled edge to edge with her handwriting. Titles, chapter numbers, revisions, crossed out paragraphs, margin notes. Harry Potter: Book One. Book Two. Book Three.
Caleb sat down and began to read.
What he saw made his smile grow wider.
The structure was there. The heart was there. The wonder. But it had been subtly reshaped to fit this world. No automobiles. Transportation leaned heavier on trains, carriages, and magical means that felt more organic to the era. Certain magical devices had been adjusted to feel less industrial, more arcane. The pacing was tighter in places. The emotional beats sharper.
He could see where Mary-Beth had improved things already, but he could also see where he could help.
Caleb took the pen and began making small notations. A line tightened here. A scene heightened there. He adjusted tension in the third book's darker moments, layering consequences more deliberately, allowing certain revelations to breathe just a bit longer.
He didn't overwrite her work, he refined it, aligned it closer to the story he remembered while letting her voice remain unmistakably present.
Time slipped by unnoticed.
He was halfway through refining a confrontation scene when arms suddenly slipped around his neck from behind.
Caleb froze for half a heartbeat then relaxed completely.
Mary-Beth hugged him close, resting her chin lightly against his shoulder, and kissed his cheek.
"Did I sleep long?" she murmured.
Caleb chuckled softly, leaning back into her embrace. "Long enough."
She hummed contentedly. "You didn't wake me."
"You needed it."
She glanced down at the open notebooks, then at the notes he'd added. Instead of irritation, her eyes lit up. "You're helpin'."
"Course I am."
She squeezed him a little tighter. "Thank you."
He turned slightly, enough to look at her properly. "How was the nap?"
"Good," she said with a lazy smile. "Better now."
Caleb returned the smile. "Good."
She leaned over his shoulder, scanning the page. "You made that scene more intense."
"You laid the groundwork," he replied. "I just sharpened the blade."
Mary-Beth laughed softly. "You always say things like that."
"Because they're true."
She rolled her eyes fondly, then grew thoughtful. "You know… helpin' like this? It makes it feel real. Like it's actually gonna happen."
"It is," Caleb said firmly. "This story's got teeth. And heart. That combination always survives."
She nodded, then shifted topics naturally. "So. How's the construction?"
Caleb leaned back in the chair, resting his hands over hers. "Goin' well. George, Elias, Seth, they're solid. Reliable. Same reason the restaurant works. I don't hire people I can't trust."
Mary-Beth smiled. "I can't wait to see it finished."
"Won't be long now."
She sighed softly. "A real place. Walls. A fence. A life."
"A future," Caleb corrected gently.
She glanced at him, eyes warm. "With all of us."
He nodded. "That's the plan."
She tilted her head. "You know… you're lucky."
Caleb raised an eyebrow. "How so?"
"You've been runnin' with the gang for a while now," she said. "High-profile jobs. Shootouts. Robberies. And yet… no bounty."
He laughed. "That's because I don't exist to the law the way the others do."
She frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I hide," he said simply. "Disguises. Misdirection. I let others take the spotlight. To the law, I'm a name that doesn't stick. Some know me as a bounty hunter. Some as a hired gun. Some as a businessman. None of 'em connect the dots."
Mary-Beth shook her head in disbelief. "You're impossible."
"Careful," he said lightly. "That's a compliment where I come from."
She laughed, then leaned down to kiss him again, longer this time, unhurried. When she pulled back, there was warmth and certainty in her eyes.
Then—
Knock. Knock.
They both turned toward the door.
"Mr. Thorne?" Strauss's voice came from the hallway. "My apologies for the interruption."
Caleb stood. "Go ahead."
"There are two gentlemen here," Strauss continued. "From New Haven, Connecticut. An investment opportunity I identified through the newspapers and reached out about."
Caleb's eyes lit up. This was it. The first fruit of having a brilliant, amoral financial mind like Strauss actively working for him, scanning the horizon for profit.
"Well I'll be damned," he muttered.
Mary-Beth smiled knowingly. "Looks like Strauss is earnin' his keep."
"Looks like it."
Caleb raised his voice slightly. "Excellent. Bring them to the restaurant. I'll meet them there shortly."
"Yes, sir."
Footsteps retreated.
Caleb turned back toward Mary-Beth, excitement clear now. "First time someone's comin' to me for an investment."
She teased, "You look like a kid on finding toys."
He laughed. "I might be."
Caleb was already moving. He went to the wardrobe and pulled out his Deauville outfit, a suit of fine, dark wool, a crisp white shirt, a silk cravat. It was the uniform of wealth and serious business, a far cry from his trail-worn clothes. Mary-Beth helped him straighten the coat, smooth the collar, adjust the cuffs.
"You're gonna do great," she said softly.
He leaned down and kissed her. "Wish me luck."
"Good luck," she replied, kissing him again.
Caleb left the room, heart pounding with anticipation.
The restaurant had been cleared intentionally. Chairs tucked in. Tables clean. No customers. Jasper had coordinated perfectly, posting a simple sign and ensuring privacy.
Caleb stepped inside and immediately spotted Strauss standing beside two men.
One was in his forties, sharp eyes, trimmed beard, posture of someone used to authority. The other was younger, early twenties, attentive but restrained. Both were well dressed. Behind them stood several armed men, discreet but unmistakably bodyguards.
Strauss straightened when he saw Caleb and smiled.
"Gentlemen," Strauss said, "allow me to introduce the man I was tellin' you about. Mr. Caleb Thorne."
Caleb approached calmly, offering a measured nod. "Pleasure."
Strauss gestured. "Mr. Throne, this is Mr. Mahlon Henry Marlin. And his younger brother, Mr. John Howard Marlin. Sons of John Mahlon Marlin, proprietor of Marlin Firearms in New Haven."
Caleb's mind moved instantly.
Marlin Firearms.
Now that was interesting.
Caleb extended his hand, his grip firm and confident. "A pleasure. Welcome to Valentine."
"Mr. Thorne," Mahlon Marlin said, his voice a measured baritone. "Your man Strauss's letter was most intriguing. He spoke of a client with significant capital, looking to invest in American industry and innovation. That caught our attention."
Caleb smiled at that. "I'm all ears. Please, sit." he said, gesturing to the table.
They took seats at a side table. Bodyguards positioned themselves nearby, alert but unobtrusive. Jasper appeared as if by magic, setting down a tray with a bottle of good brandy and three glasses before melting away again.
...
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 4)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 4)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 4)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 4)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 3)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 3)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 2)
- Crafting (Lvl 3)
- Persuasion (Lvl 4)
- 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: 3,526 dollars and 10 cents
Inventory: 112,892 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 65 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, 1 Braithwaites Land Deed, & 1 Broken Pirate Sword
Bank: -