If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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They left the blueprints sitting on the desk,a silent, paper arsenal waiting to be unleashed upon the 20th century, and walked downstairs together, stepping out into the fading, peaceful light of the Heartlands, completely untouchable in the sanctuary they had built.
Caleb and Mary-Beth walked around the homestead as they enjoyed the dusk sun. The golden hour had painted the Heartlands in brilliant, bleeding hues of violet and deep amber, casting long, peaceful shadows across the grass.
The oppressive, smog choked air of Saint Denis felt like a distant nightmare here. Caleb held her hand, his thumb gently tracing the knuckles of her fingers, grounding himself in the quiet reality they were building together.
They took their time looking at the ranch. They strolled past the sturdy wooden fences where the newly purchased cows grazed lazily on the sweet prairie grass, occasionally letting out soft, contented lows. Nearby, the goats bleated and climbed on a pile of stacked firewood, their bells clinking pleasantly in the evening air.
The chicken coops were situated right around the same area, a flurry of feathered activity as the hens settled down to roost for the night, clucking softly. It was a picture of perfect, mundane domesticity, a far cry from the outlaw camps they had survived in the snows of Ambarino or the muddy swamps of Lemoyne.
From the livestock pens, they walked to the field which looked still empty on the surface, the dark soil turned over in neat, parallel rows. However, it was already being planted with crops.
Charles and a few others had spent days sowing corn, wheat, and root vegetables, laying the literal groundwork for a self sustaining future.
They stood by the edge of the freshly tilled earth, and enjoyed the fresh air and the breathtaking scenery of the rolling green plains stretching out toward the horizon. Mary-Beth leaned her head against his shoulder.
She let out a soft, wistful sigh, saying she hoped that they could enjoy their time together like this every day. "It's so quiet here, Caleb," she murmured, the wind catching a loose strand of her hair. "No Pinkertons, no running, no looking over our shoulders. Just the sunset and the sound of the animals. I wish you didn't have to leave so often."
Hearing the slight melancholy in her voice, Caleb stroked the top of her head affectionately and leaned down, kissing her softly on the forehead.
"I apologize for being out so much, Mary-Beth," Caleb said, his voice a low, reassuring rumble. "I know I have had a very small amount of time to spend with you lately. The business in the city, the scheming back east... it takes a heavy toll."
He turned to face her fully, taking both of her hands in his. His eyes, usually so cold and calculating when dealing with the criminal underworld, were completely open and intensely devoted.
"But I promise you," Caleb vowed, his tone carrying the absolute certainty of a man who controlled fate itself, "when everything is perfect, and that all of the enemies that hunted this gang down are permanently cleared from the board, my time will be yours. We will spend our days together. We'll build our legitimate businesses together, side by side."
He paused, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone. "We will get married. And we'll have children together. A real life, Mary-Beth. One built on a foundation so strong that no one will ever be able to threaten it."
Mary-Beth, hearing the words married and have children together spoken with such profound sincerity, immediately had her face turn bright red as she blushed hard. The heat crept all the way up to the tips of her ears.
For a girl who spent her life reading romance novels, having the man she loved lay out such a beautiful, concrete future was overwhelming.
But despite her flustered state, she let out a sweet, radiant smile that could have outshined the setting sun.
"I understand, Caleb," she said softly, squeezing his hands. "I know that you are busy making sure our entire future is safe. You carry so much weight for all of us. I wouldn't trade you for anyone in the world."
She looked up through her eyelashes, her blush deepening but her gaze steady. "I would want for us to get married. And having children down the line when we are ready... I'd love that. Having our own version of Jack running around the fields, whether it's a boy or a girl. A child who only knows peace."
Both of them looked at each other with a warm, shared smile, the unspoken bond between them solidifying into something unbreakable. The blueprints of destruction Caleb had drafted earlier that afternoon were entirely for the sake of protecting this exact, fragile dream.
After that, the ringing of the iron triangle called them back to the main house. They enjoyed dinner together with the entire gang, gathering around the large, makeshift dining table set up near the kitchen area. The atmosphere was incredibly light, filled with the sounds of laughter, the clinking of tin plates, and the easy banter of people who no longer feared the dawn.
They were eating Pearson's beef stew, and miraculously, it had become even more delicious. With the influx of funds Caleb had provided, Pearson was no longer boiling stringy game meat and wild carrots, he had access to prime cuts of beef, fresh herbs, imported salt, and proper root vegetables.
The rich, savory aroma filled the room, and even Arthur was going back for a second bowl without a single grumble of complaint.
As they ate as a group, Pearson, wiping his mouth with a napkin, leaned over the table toward Caleb.
"Mr. Thorne," Pearson began, using Caleb's formal alias with a hint of uncharacteristic professional respect. "I was wonderin' about that establishment of yours. Your restaurant in Valentine."
"What about it, Pearson?" Caleb asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
Pearson puffed out his chest slightly. He asked Caleb if he could work at his restaurant in the city as a chef. "I've been honing my craft, as you can plainly taste," Pearson boasted, gesturing to the empty bowls around the table. "And I was thinkin', maybe I could take a shift or two in a proper kitchen. Make some honest wages on the side. Of course, I would follow all the instructions to the letter, and I wouldn't make my own menu. Well, at least until you allowed it, of course."
Caleb looked at the hopeful, slightly nervous ex navy cook. He nodded his head at that, a wicked, playful glint appearing in his eye.
"Of course you can, Pearson," Caleb said, his voice loud enough for the table to hear. "Those boys at the kitchen would love the extra help hauling sacks of flour. And honestly, it's a very good experience for you to work together with much better chefs. Might finally learn how to properly season a broth without relying on a pound of salt."
Caleb delivered it as a deadpan, sarcastic joke, but the delivery was flawless.
The gang erupted into laughter hearing this. Sean nearly choked on his stew, slapping the table, while Lenny and Arthur chuckled heartily at Pearson's expense. Even Pearson laughed, letting out a loud snort, taking the ribbing in perfect stride because the underlying approval was clear.
"Very funny, very funny," Pearson grumbled good-naturedly, waving his spoon. Before then, he says he will go and meet this Jasper fellow in town tomorrow, the man Caleb trusted to be the one handling the day to day operations of the restaurant for him.
Caleb nodded his head at that, confirming the arrangement. It was a good move, keeping the gang employed in his legitimate fronts further integrated them into society and kept idle hands from returning to outlaw habits.
After dinner, the dishes were cleared, and the gang began to break off into smaller groups to play poker, read, or sit by the fire. Caleb and Mary-Beth returned back to their room on the second floor.
The room was cool, the evening breeze drifting through the cracked window. As Mary-Beth sat at the vanity to brush her hair, Caleb took off his gun belts and told her his plans for the next day.
"Tomorrow morning, I will leave for Strawberry," Caleb informed her, hanging his duster on the coat rack. "I should be returned back at dusk or the early evening."
Mary-Beth paused mid-stroke. "Strawberry? Is there trouble you need to handle out west?"
"No, nothing like that," Caleb assured her, walking over and resting his hands on her shoulders, looking at her reflection in the mirror. "I need to go check on Herr Strauss. And I need to oversee the renovation of the lodge I acquired. I'm turning it into the luxury hotel I've envisioned, and I want to make sure the contractors aren't cutting corners on the mahogany paneling."
Hearing that, Mary-Beth's eyes lit up with excitement. She turned around on her stool and asked if she could come.
"Please, Caleb?" she asked, her voice eager. "I would love to see how Strawberry is. I've read about the mountains and the pine forests up there, but I've never been. And I want to see how the hotel is doing while it is still under renovation. It sounds so grand."
Caleb, hearing that, thought of it for a moment. He ran the tactical variables through his mind. The road to Strawberry was relatively safe, especially since he had eradicated the O'Driscoll presence in the region months ago.
What remains of the Pinkertons were currently focused entirely on Saint Denis and the aftermath of the Annesburg disaster. Traveling with her wouldn't pose an unacceptable risk.
Before long, he nodded his head and says, "Of course you can come."
He smiled, pulling her up from the stool. "Just think of it as a small trip for the two of us as well. Getting away from the homestead for a day. And Strawberry actually is a beautiful place to truly enjoy the nature there. It's nestled right in the mountains, so it's much more humid, fresh, and cool compared to the dry plains here in Valentine."
Mary-Beth, hearing that, let out a massive, joyous smile and wrapped her arms around his neck, thanking him enthusiastically for agreeing. The prospect of a simple, peaceful trip with him was a luxury she cherished deeply.
Before then, the two of them changed into their nightclothes, blew out the kerosene lamp, and went to sleep, completely unaware of the morbid countdown that was nearing its end in the dark below them.
The next day began not with the gentle crow of a rooster, but with the sharp, jarring sound of absolute panic.
Suddenly, there's a massive commotion downstairs. Voices were raised, heavy boots were thudding rapidly against the floorboards, and the distinct sound of a tin pot crashing to the ground echoed up the stairwell.
Caleb and Mary-Beth were woken up instantly due to this commotion. Caleb was out of bed in a fraction of a second, his instincts flaring as he grabbed a Navy Revolver from the nightstand. Mary-Beth sat up, pulling the quilt to her chest, her eyes wide with alarm.
"Stay behind me," Caleb ordered softly.
He didn't bother putting on his boots. He stepped out of the room, keeping his weapon lowered but ready, and they walked quickly down the wooden stairs to the first floor.
The main parlor and the kitchen area were a scene of chaotic tension. They walked down to the first floor, where they could immediately hear Reverend Swanson frantically yelling. The frail man was shaking violently, his face completely drained of color, clutching his Bible to his chest as if it were a life preserver.
He was telling Arthur and Hosea, in a voice shrill with terror, what he had found, which had inevitably attracted the attention of the others, of course. Charles, Javier, Sadie, and John were already gathering in the hallway, their faces etched with confusion and sudden dread.
"He's not moving! He's not moving!" Swanson babbled, tears streaming down his face, grabbing Hosea by the suspenders.
"Calm down, Reverend! Who ain't moving?" Arthur demanded, his voice a gravelly bark of authority, though a dark knowingness already shadowed his eyes.
"Dutch!" Swanson cried out, his voice cracking. "I went down... I found Dutch below! He doesn't breathe, Arthur! I shook him! No matter how I tried to wake him up to eat his breakfast, there's no response from him! He's cold! He's cold as stone!"
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 8/10
- Agility: 8/10
- Perception: 9/10
- Stamina: 8/10
- Charm: 8/10
- Luck: 9/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl MAX)
- Rifle (Lvl MAX)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl MAX)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl MAX)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 2)
- Sneaking (Lvl MAX)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl MAX)
- Poker (Lvl MAX)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl MAX)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 2)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 4)
- Bow (Lvl 3)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 4)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 3)
- Crafting (Lvl MAX)
- Persuasion (Lvl MAX)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl MAX)
- Teaching (Lvl 3)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 50x50x50)
- Acting (Lvl MAX)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Business (Lvl 2)
- Leadership (Lvl 2)
Money: 3,322 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 250,992 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 70 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, 1 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, 1 Milton's Safety Deposit Key, 1 Senator Pendleton Sealed Envelope, Proof Of Marlin-Thorne Firearms Co., 10 Dynamites, 1 LeMat, 1 M1899, 1 Carcano, & 1 Ownership deed of Doyle's Tavern
Bank: -