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Caleb sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples. "Then I went into the basement and unlocked the door with the code I found from the maps. That basement was worse than anything I've ever seen, Jasper. Blood on the walls. Body parts… stacked like firewood. Bodies hanging from hooks, jars full of... things. Edmund was waiting for me. Tried to ambush me with a knife. Folks went missing from here, from Annesburg, Saint Denis even. And no one knew where they'd gone. Turns out they were all taken by the same lunatic."
Jasper's eyes widened. "Jesus Christ."
"Knocked him out cold, tied him up, and dragged him back here." Caleb shrugged, as if it were nothing. "Sheriff gave me 200 dollars for bringing the lunatic in alive."
Jasper whistled. "200 dollars?! That's more than most make in several months!"
Caleb smirked. "Guess many people were real eager to see him caught."
A beat passed. Then Caleb stood. "Come on. I need breakfast after skipping dinner last night. You?"
Jasper blinked, then smiled faintly. "Yeah. I'll eat. I could eat a whole pig after that story."
Caleb chuckled dryly. "Let's not eat anything with bones for a while. I don't want to remember what I saw yesterday ever again."
The two made their way down to the saloon, where Mr. Douglas served them their order, a premium beef steak and a bottle of beer costing 8 dollars and 25 cents for each of them, and then they went to take a seat at the table near the piano.
Jasper devoured his food, still occasionally glancing at Caleb as if not quite believing the man he shared a table with was a man who had dragged a butcher to justice just hours before.
"You ever think about bounty hunting full time?" Jasper asked between bites.
Caleb shook his head. "Maybe for now, but not for too long. Too unpredictable and dangerous. Besides, I've got other plans."
"Like what?"
"Like starting a business." Caleb leaned in slightly. "Pastries, maybe. Something folks in town would pay good money for."
Jasper blinked at Caleb, chewing the last of his steak with a look of faint disbelief.
"You? Baking?" he finally said, brows raised.
Caleb chuckled and speared another piece of meat with his fork. "Stranger things have happened. I used to help my ma back when I was younger. She had her own special recipes. Folks around her said she could bake the devil himself into a pie if she wanted."
Jasper's eyebrows shot up, and he snorted at Caleb's baking revelation. But to his credit, he didn't question it and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Didn't take you for the baking type," he admitted as he stabbed a piece of I'm at. "No offense, but you seem more... well, the type to put holes in folks and shoot their kneecaps than knead dough."
"None taken," Caleb said with a dry smirk, chewing slowly. "I'm not saying I'm gonna be full time wearing an apron. Just an idea. Open up a place that sells real good pastries, and some hot coffee. If it catches on, I'll hire folks to bake while I manage things, make sure the quality's up to my standards."
Jasper nodded thoughtfully, his brows furrowed. "Well, I can't say no to that. I'd help if you need it, lifting sacks of flour, cleaning, running errands. Whatever it takes."
Caleb paused, studying Jasper's earnest face. He gave a slow nod, his voice low and sincere. "Thanks, Jasper. I appreciate that."
Inside, he was more than just pleased, he was satisfied. Jasper had come far from the scared, thin boy he'd pulled from that basement.
The initiative he was showing now, offering help without being asked, proved something important, his loyalty had reached a firm threshold. Caleb didn't know exactly what the future held, but Jasper was proving himself useful and dependable, and that mattered more than gold.
After finishing their breakfast, the two parted ways. Jasper wiped his mouth one last time and stood.
"I gotta get moving. Old Bob's expecting me at the stall this morning, then I've got a shift with Mr. Worth at the general store in the afternoon. And tonight… well, I'm on a probation shift at the saloon."
Caleb blinked. "The saloon?"
Jasper grinned sheepishly. "Figured I might as well do something in the night, expanding my skills and also gaining more experience, like you said. So I talked to Mr. Douglas after hours. He said he'd give me a try."
Caleb chuckled, surprised and mildly impressed. "Damn, Jasper. You're busier than I am."
"Just trying to do right by myself," Jasper replied with a shrug, then smiled. "And maybe earn enough to buy a pair of boots that don't talk back every time I walk."
Caleb laughed, nodding in approval. "Keep it up. That kind of drive'll take you far."
Jasper tipped his hat and turned toward the market street. Caleb lingered outside the saloon for a few moments, letting the morning sun warm his shoulders. He was about to head back up to his hotel room when he heard someone familiar call his name.
"Caleb Thorne!"
He turned. Lenny Summers stood across the street, waving him over with a casual smile.
Caleb's face lit up with a knowing grin. He walked over and clasped Lenny's hand. "Mr. Callahan," he said in a mock formal tone, eyes twinkling. "Fancy seein' you in town. What brings you here?"
Lenny leaned in slightly, dropping his voice. "Our German friend sent me. He knows you've been layin' low around here thanks to our Indian friend back at camp. Says you promised to help with his lending work. He's got a special client he wants 'dealt with."
Caleb's smile faded, replaced by a calm nod. "Right. I remember. Just let me grab my gear from the hotel. I'll head back to camp right after."
Lenny nodded. "Good. I've got some errands in town, so I'll meet you back there later."
"See you soon," Caleb said.
He watched Lenny walk away, then turned and headed upstairs to his room.
Once inside, Caleb closed the door and made for the big chest just at the feet of his bed. The old wood creaked as he pulled it open. He reached for the Navy Revolver he'd taken off Edmund, the deranged butcher he'd captured the night before.
He turned the weapon over in his hands. The revolver was old but well kept, heavy in the grip, longer barrel.
A quick inspection using his Firearms Knowledge skill, confirmed it was in good condition, no rust, no misfires, and more firepower.
He nodded, satisfied. "You'll do, deadlier than the Schofields, Caleb muttered, spinning the cylinder, and holstered the Navy, placing one of his Schofields into the chest as backup.
Next, he slung his Lancaster repeater over one shoulder and his pump action shotgun over the other. The upgrades he'd made at the gunsmith, the improved rifling, the new scope, and shotgun longer barrels, made both weapons feel like extensions of himself.
Before stepping out, he threw on his coat and tied the gun belt snug around his waist. Then he gathered a few extra shells, slipping them into his satchel.
Downstairs, the morning bustle of the street had thickened. He stepped outside, squinting against the sunlight. Morgan neighed softly from the hitching post, ears twitching.
"Morning, girl," he muttered, patting her flank. He tightened her saddle straps, checked the bags, then mounted up.
With a tug of the reins, they trotted off down the muddy main street, hooves clopping rhythmically against the boards.
The ride back to Horseshoe Overlook was familiar, trees rustling, the occasional deer darting off into the brush, distant cries of birds echoing across the hills. Caleb kept his eyes sharp, his thoughts sharper.
Caleb kept a steady pace, his mind turning over the events he had gotten into from yesterday and today, the capture of Edmund, Jasper's eagerness to help with the bakery, and now Strauss's summons.
The camp came into view as Morgan passed through the grove of trees. Tents and wagons dotted the clearing, smoke curling from the central fire. Javier's guitar drifted on the breeze, mingling with the occasional burst of laughter.
As he dismounted and hitched Morgan, a few heads turned to greet him.
Uncle raised his hand lazily from his chair. "Well, well, if it ain't the long lost son of fortune. You been out makin' money or makin' trouble?"
"Bit of both," Caleb answered with a smirk, tying Morgan to the post.
He made his way toward the wagons and spotted Strauss near his tent, surrounded by his ledgers and notes, looking up as Caleb approached.
"Ah. Mister Thorne," Leopold said with his usual clipped accent. "I trust you are well rested and ready to help me in collecting debts?"
"Herr Strauss. More or less," Caleb said. "Heard you needed help with a particular client of yours."
"Yes, I do. In fact. I have visited him personally for him to pay his debt, by he is very slick about not repaying his debt. If you're still interested…"
Caleb, hearing that, knew who Strauss meant and nodded. "Just tell me who he was and point me in the direction where he was."
Strauss handed over the price of paper with the man's name, "His name is Thomas Downes, a farmer and also a preacher whom I met in Valentine," Strauss said, tapping the name of Thomas Downes. "He's more slippery than he seems, and I think a bit sick, since he was coughing nonstop. I'm done being polite with him, so don't take any nonsense with him and beat him if he doesn't pay."
Hearing the name Thomas Downes from Strauss's mouth didn't surprise Caleb in the slightest, though he masked it behind a well practiced poker face. He had expected this, hell, he'd been waiting for it.
Thomas Downes was the third part of the money lending chain, and if fate hadn't twisted and tossed Caleb into this world, it would've been Arthur Morgan riding out to the ranch with a heavy hand and heavier conscience.
And it was that encounter, Arthur began to cough and cough and cough until he was coughing blood, that ultimately signed his death warrant.
But not this time.
This time, Arthur would live. Because Caleb was taking this job, and he intended to play it differently.
Still, he had to act the part. Caleb blinked in mock surprise, tilted his head, and let his brow furrow just enough to sell it. "Thomas Downes?" he asked with mild disbelief. "The man who collects money for charity back in town? I've seen him in front of the church, talkin' about the Lord's work and feedin' the poor. Never figured him for the debt kind."
Strauss nodded, straightening his posture. "Yes, yes. That Thomas Downes," he said, a bit of disdain in his clipped tone. "You see how he pretends to be a man of the people, yet lives off borrowed funds and never returns them. I visited him, and he was all coughs and excuses. Disgusting."
Caleb pretended to digest that information slowly, then asked, "How much does he owe?"
"80 dollars," Strauss said. "With interest, that comes to 115 dollars."
Caleb raised his brows. That was a decent sum of money for most folks in the region. Not impossible, but certainly weighty. He rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled. "Well… no wonder he's in trouble. That kind of coin ain't easy to cough up if you're givin' it away to every empty hand in town."
"If he didn't act like a saint while swimming in debt," Strauss scoffed, "his family would not be living in such wretched conditions."
Caleb nodded thoughtfully as he heard what Strauss said. It was true enough. He then glanced over at the rest of the camp, gauging if anyone was paying attention, before turning back to look at Strauss. "You got an idea where I might find the man to collect his debt?"
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Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 6/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 5/10
- Luck: 6/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 2)
- Rifle (Lvl 2)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 2)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 1)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 2)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 2)
- Poker (Lvl 2)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 1)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 1)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 1)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 0)
- Crafting (Lv1)
- Persuasion (Lvl 2)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
Money: 965 dollars and 18 cents
Bank: 320 dollars, 4 gold bars, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets