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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"To Caleb!" Arthur, John, Charles, Sean, and Lenny echoed loudly, clinking their cups together in a joyous, hopeful toast. Caleb drank his whiskey, smiling at his brothers. The lie was swallowed completely, the cover story was impenetrable, and his dual life was secure. Tomorrow, he would take his Queen back to his newly conquered kingdom, and the empire of Don Caleb would begin it's official move.
The heavy, conspiratorial tension that had gripped the back porch slowly dissolved into the cool, star studded evening air. With the grand lie successfully planted and the gang's future seemingly secured, a profound sense of relief washed over the men.
Hosea uncorked the bourbon once more, pouring generous measures into the tin cups, and the atmosphere shifted seamlessly from life or death survival to the comfortable, easy camaraderie of brothers who had weathered the storm.
After that, Caleb truly allowed himself to relax. He leaned back against the wooden railing, stretching his long legs out, and simply enjoyed drinking his whiskey and smoking his cigarette.
The conversation drifted away from the Pinkertons and Angelo Bronte, meandering through miscellaneous, happy things. Lenny recounted a hilarious story about a particularly stubborn drunk at the Valentine restaurant who tried to pay for his meal with a live chicken, while Sean proudly boasted about his newfound skills in charming the local barmaids.
Charles shared quiet observations about the changing seasons, and Arthur simply chuckled, the deep lines of worry on his forehead visibly softening in the lantern light.
It was a perfect, idyllic night on the homestead, the kind of peace they had all bled for.
At one point, during a lull in the laughter, Caleb took a slow draw from his cigarette. His blue eyes drifted over to John Marston, who was sitting on the porch steps, quietly whittling a piece of scrap wood with his hunting knife.
Caleb exhaled a plume of pale smoke into the night air, a sly, knowing smile touching his lips. He decided to shift the spotlight.
He looked directly at the scarred outlaw. "So, John," Caleb drawled, his voice carrying clearly over the chirping crickets. "You've got the roof over your head. You've got the boy running around the yard. Since the two of you already have Jack now, when are you going to stop dragging your boots and actually put a ring on that woman's finger?"
The abrupt, highly personal question caught the entire porch off guard. The men stopped drinking, their eyes immediately swiveling toward John.
Hearing that, John froze, the blade of his knife slipping slightly against the wood. A deep, highly visible blush crept up his scarred neck, completely ruining his tough guy facade. He cleared his throat, chuckling a bit awkwardly as he looked down at his boots, entirely unprepared for the sudden interrogation regarding his domestic life.
"Well, I... uh," John stammered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He looked up, trying to defend his hesitation. Before then, he says that he was just waiting. "I'm looking for the right moment to ask for her hand, alright? It ain't exactly a simple thing. Gotta have the right time, the right words..."
Caleb, hearing that incredibly flimsy excuse, couldn't help but let out a loud, mocking scoff, lacing his words with a heavy bit of brotherly teasing.
"The right moment?" Caleb laughed, shaking his head in sheer disbelief. He pushed himself off the railing, gesturing around the sprawling, peaceful homestead. He says, pointing out the absolute absurdity of John's hesitation, what exact moment is he waiting for?
"If the gang were still freezing their asses off up in Colter, or if we were still on the run, moving our camps here and there with Pinkertons and bounty hunters still coming for us from every direction... I would completely understand," Caleb reasoned, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "But look around you, Marston! We have already settled down. The perimeter is secure, the law in Valentine leaves us alone, and you are sleeping in a warm bed every single night. You are safe. So what time are you waiting for? Do you need the Mayor to send you a invitation?"
When the others heard what Caleb said, the porch erupted. They completely agreed with him, instantly smelling blood in the water. The men swarmed in, highly entertained by John's discomfort, and also gave their own share of words to John, ruthlessly teasing and booing him.
"Aye, the man's terrified of a little piece of metal!" Sean MacGuire hollered, tossing his hat at John's head. "He can face down a grizzly bear, but asking a lass to marry him makes him shake in his boots! Boo! Coward!"
"She's already doing all the work of a wife, John," Lenny added with a wide grin. "The least you could do is give her the title before she realizes she can do much better."
Hosea raised his hand, chuckling warmly, but his expression soon settled into something much more profound and deeply sincere. The older con man looked at John, the ghosts of his own past lingering in his wise, tired eyes. Hosea told him to do it as soon as he can.
"Caleb is right, John," Hosea said softly, his voice carrying the heavy weight of a man who had lost the love of his life. "You need to do it soon. Because the truth of this world is that we never truly know what the future brings. We have peace today, but tomorrow is promised to no one. I had my Bessie, and I thought we had all the time in the world. We didn't."
Hosea took a slow sip of his bourbon, his eyes locking onto John's. "I don't want you to regret it when time doesn't wait for you, son. Give her the name. Give the boy a proper family."
The teasing completely vanished from the porch, replaced by a heavy, emotional sincerity.
And then, Arthur shifted his weight, crossing his thick arms over his chest. Arthur, of course, just gave out blunt, heavy handed words to John, entirely skipping the sentimentality and going straight for the gut. He mixed it with some stern advice for him to do it fast, an unyielding reminder of the mistakes John had made in his youth.
"You listen to Hosea, Marston," Arthur rumbled, his voice a deep, gravelly baritone. "You ain't exactly got the high ground when it comes to being a dependable man. You abandoned Jack and Abigail for a whole damn year in the past. You ran out on them when things got tough. She took you back, God only knows why. You owe her more than just hanging around the yard."
Arthur pointed a thick, calloused finger at him. "You owe her the security of knowing you ain't going to run again. Do it fast, before she comes to her senses and leaves you in the dust."
John was entirely silent after listening to everyone's words. The playful embarrassment had faded, replaced by a deep, humbling realization.
He absorbed the heavy truths, especially Caleb's pragmatic logic, Hosea's melancholic wisdom, and Arthur's brutal, brotherly honesty. He looked down at the whittling knife in his hands, tracing the dull edge with his thumb.
Before then, he took a deep breath, his jaw setting with newfound resolve. He looked up at the circle of men who were the only real family he had ever known.
"Alright," John said, his voice quiet but incredibly firm. He says he will make it happen soon. "Just wait. I'll get a proper ring. I'll ask her. I promise."
Caleb smiled, a genuine, proud expression crossing his face. He stepped forward and firmly patted John on the shoulder.
"That's what we want to hear, brother," Caleb said, reassuring him that of course there was no need to worry about the logistics. "And if you need any help planning the actual proposal, just say the word. I am sure everyone here would be more than happy to help prepare the moment. We can clear out the yard, string up some lanterns, have Pearson cook a real feast... assuming he survives his current stomach issues."
The men chuckled at the jab at the camp cook.
"And," Caleb added, his mind always finding ways to leverage his wealth for the people he cared about, "if you want to make it truly special, let me know. I can easily hire a professional photographer from Saint Denis to come all the way up here. He can take proper, high quality pictures of the moment for you and Abigail. Give you something real to frame on the wall for Jack to look at when he grows up."
John looked up at Caleb, genuinely touched by the extravagant offer. A professional photograph was an incredibly rare, expensive luxury for people like them.
John smiled at that, a rare, completely unburdened expression, and thanked him sincerely for his help. "I appreciate that, Caleb. I really do. I might just take you up on it."
After that heartwarming conclusion to the intervention, the hour grew late. The whiskey bottles ran dry, and soon they naturally ended the men's festivities. The crisp, cool night air of the Heartlands settled over the homestead.
Those that were on the night shift, including Charles and Sean, grabbed their repeating rifles and headed out into the darkness to do their perimeter patrol, ensuring the safety of the sleeping camp.
While Caleb and the rest of the men stretched their tired muscles, saying their goodnights, and went back to enter the main homestead. The floorboards creaked as they dispersed to their respective bunks.
Caleb walked quietly up the wooden stairs, moving down the darkened hallway until he reached his private door. He turned the brass knob and entered the room.
He went to join Mary-Beth. She was already dressed in a soft, white cotton nightgown, sitting up in bed and reading a thick, leather bound novel by the light of a flickering oil lamp. When he walked in, she smiled, closing the book and setting it on the nightstand.
Caleb stripped off his heavy Vaquero gear, his gun belt clanking softly against the floorboards, and climbed into the plush mattress beside her.
He pulled the heavy quilt up over them, wrapping his arms securely around her waist, burying his face into the lavender-scented crook of her neck. They murmured a few quiet, sweet words to each other in the dark, the anticipation of their grand journey the following day hanging in the air, before they finally drifted off and slept together peacefully in there, completely untouched by the violence of the world outside.
The next morning arrived with a breathtaking display of natural beauty. Caleb woke up immediately, drawn from his deep slumber due to the brilliant, golden sunlight shining directly through the window glass, casting warm, illuminated squares onto him and Mary-Beth.
He blinked against the light, feeling incredibly rested. He looked down at the woman sleeping soundly against his chest, her dark hair splayed wildly across the white pillows, her breathing slow and rhythmic.
Caleb smiled, a profound surge of affection washing over him. He leaned down and kissed her softly on her forehead. The gentle brush of his lips stirred her from her sleep.
He woke Mary-Beth up gently, running a calloused hand through her hair. "Morning, sweetheart. It's time."
To which she did, fluttering her dark eyes open, a sleepy, radiant smile instantly appearing on her face as she looked up at him. The two of them shared a small, lingering kiss in the warm sunlight, savoring the final, quiet moments of their rustic homestead life.
Before then, knowing the massive operation that awaited them in the city, they both got up from their bed. The room quickly became a flurry of focused activity.
Mary-Beth moved over to the wooden screen in the corner and quickly changed her clothes, slipping into a beautifully tailored, dark velvet traveling dress that Caleb had brought her from Saint Denis.
It was practical for the long ride, yet undeniably elegant, signaling her transition from a camp girl to the Lady of the Don. She pinned her dark hair up meticulously, securing a stylish, wide brimmed riding hat to protect her face from the harsh southern sun.
While she prepared herself, Caleb went to pick up the heavy luggage. He hauled the thick, leather-bound suitcase off the floor and grabbed the heavy cloth cases filled with their expensive garments, lifting them effortlessly with his high strength stats. He had already dressed in his rugged, dark Vaquero outfit, ready to brave the dusty trails.
When Mary-Beth finished changing her clothes, stepping out from behind the screen looking absolutely breathtaking, the two of them left their room. They walked down the creaking wooden stairs, Caleb carrying the heavy bags in one hand while guiding her down with the other.
They went downstairs, moving through the quiet living room and out the heavy oak front doors into the crisp, cool morning air of the Heartlands.
Out there, they met with Hosea and Arthur on the front porch. The two veteran outlaws were already awake, leaning against the wooden railing, holding tin cups of steaming black coffee while they were smoking thick cigars.
The fragrant blue smoke curled lazily into the morning mist.
When they saw the two of them coming out, heavily burdened with luggage and dressed for a long journey, they straightened up.
They greeted them warmly. "Good morning to you both," Hosea smiled, tipping his hat to Mary-Beth.
"Morning," Arthur grunted, his blue eyes scanning Caleb's armed silhouette.
They didn't ask questions about the exact details of the mob infiltration. They simply told them to have safe travels.
"Keep your eyes on the tree lines, Caleb," Arthur advised, taking a drag from his cigar. "The roads down south get treacherous the closer you get to Lemoyne. Don't let anyone get the drop on you."
"And take good care of our girl," Hosea added, giving Mary-Beth a fond, fatherly smile. "We expect you to write to us, Mary-Beth. Let us know the high society hasn't completely corrupted you."
In which Caleb and Mary-Beth returned their morning greetings warmly. Mary-Beth stepped forward and hugged both of the older men, a gesture filled with deep, genuine affection and a hint of sadness, before then they both thanked them for their protection and their well wishes.
With the goodbyes finished, it was time to move. Caleb stepped off the porch and let out a sharp, piercing whistle that echoed across the yard for Morgan to come to them.
From across the compound, near the water troughs, the beautiful, sturdy thoroughbred mare's ears perked up. She immediately trotted over, the silver conchos on her custom saddle jingling musically, and she did exactly as commanded, coming to a halt right beside Caleb.
Caleb went to work immediately. He put on their luggage, securing the heavy leather suitcase tightly to the rear luggage rack behind the saddle and strapping the cloth cases firmly to the saddlebags, ensuring nothing would shift during the long ride.
Once the cargo was completely secured, he turned to Mary-Beth. He offered her his hands and smoothly helped Mary-Beth get on Morgan. She swung her leg over the back, settling comfortably into the space behind the main saddle, wrapping her arms securely around Caleb's waist.
Before then, Caleb grabbed the saddle horn and gracefully got on himself, settling into the familiar, well-worn leather of the saddle. He adjusted his gun belt, ensuring his twin Navy Revolvers were easily accessible.
He looked back toward the porch one last time. He tipped his dark Vaquero hat respectfully to Arthur and Hosea, a silent promise between brothers that he would handle the shadows in the East while they held the fort in the West. Before then, he took a firm hold of Morgan's leather reins. He flicked it sharply, turning Morgan around smoothly. The mare snorted, eager to run, and rode out of the homestead gates, leaving the safety of the Heartlands behind.
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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 MAX)
- Sneaking (Lvl MAX)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl MAX)
- Poker (Lvl MAX)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl MAX)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Dead Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Bow (Lvl MAX)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl MAX)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl MAX)
- Crafting (Lvl MAX)
- Persuasion (Lvl MAX)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl MAX)
- Teaching (Lvl MAX)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 100x100x100)
- Acting (Lvl MAX)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Business (Lvl MAX)
- Leadership (Lvl MAX)
Money: 3,322 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 286,492 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 74 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, 3 Diamonds, & Important Documents & Deeds Of Cornwall
Bank: -