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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"I told you, Mary-Beth," Caleb smiled, his eyes glinting as he looked up at the skeletal frame of his future empire. "I'm building a shield. And today, we just ensured that the law will be the ones holding it up for us."
Mary-Beth smiled at that, a genuine, completely unabashed expression of admiration blooming across her features. She looked up at the man beside her, seeing the stark contrast between the tender lover who had packed a picnic and the terrifying titan who had just brought an entire mountain town to its knees without breaking a sweat.
"I liked it very much when I saw you acting like this," she murmured, her voice a soft, thrilling whisper meant only for him. "You make the world bend to your will, Caleb. It makes me feel... incredibly safe."
Caleb just tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her flush against his side as they continued their ascent up the dirt path. The cool mountain breeze felt refreshing against his skin, carrying away the metallic tang of gunpowder that clung to his duster.
He didn't need to offer a boastful reply, the steady, unyielding warmth of his arm around her was answer enough. He was building an impenetrable fortress around her, and today was just another brick laid in its foundation.
They soon reached the bustling construction site of the Majestic Hotel. The rhythmic thumping of hammers and the sharp, pine scented spray of sawdust filled the air. Through the maze of scaffolding and stacked timber, they saw Herr Strauss and Arthur Morgan standing near a massive pile of imported oak beams.
They had possibly just done doing the meticulous checking Caleb had asked Arthur to do with Strauss. Caleb had purposely orchestrated that little lumber inspection task to keep Arthur occupied, ensuring that he could spend some uninterrupted, quality time with Mary-Beth out on the ridge.
When the both of them saw Caleb and Mary-Beth approaching through the bustling laborers, they immediately stopped their conversation. They approached him, dusting the wood shavings from their coats, and greeted them warmly, which Caleb and Mary-Beth also did the same, returning their greetings with easy smiles.
Arthur, pushing his weathered hat back on his head, leaned casually against a support beam. He looked between the two of them, a knowing, slightly amused glint in his eyes.
"So," Arthur rumbled, crossing his thick arms over his chest, "how is the little date going? Find a nice patch of grass away from all this hammering?"
Caleb and Mary-Beth exchanged a brief, shared look. "It goes very well, Arthur," Caleb began, his tone deceptively mild, "until, at least, suddenly we were disrupted by a group of rather ambitious bandits who thought we were easy prey."
Arthur's relaxed posture vanished instantly. The amusement bled from his eyes, replaced by the sharp, predatory focus of the gang's lead enforcer. Hearing that, Arthur immediately stood up straight, his hand instinctively dropping toward the worn grip of his Cattleman revolver.
"Ah," Arthur said, his voice dropping an octave, the pieces suddenly clicking into place. "That's why we heard the sounds of gunshots echoing down from the ridge. A whole volley of 'em. So it's actually from you, Caleb. Taking care of those bandits."
"Five of them, to be exact," Caleb nodded his head at that, his expression turning cold as he recalled the filthy look in the leader's eyes. Before then, he elaborated on the necessity of the violence. "They dared to not only ruin our little date, Arthur, but they also even said some unspeakable words to Mary-Beth. Disgusting things. That's why I decided to kill all of them... except for one person."
Arthur raised a thick eyebrow. "Left one alive? That ain't usually your style when folks cross a line like that."
"I needed a messenger," Caleb explained flatly. "And that is the leader. I brought him down to the Sheriff with immense pain in his body, shattered his gun hand. It was a perfect opportunity. I also used his arrival, and my authority as the primary financial benefactor of this town, to influence the Mayor and the Sheriff even deeper. They are utterly terrified of losing my funding. The law here officially works for us now."
Hearing all of that, Herr Strauss nodded his head in profound, calculating approval. The Austrian accountant clapped his hands slowly together, a dry, precise sound amidst the construction noise.
"That is very good work, Mr. Thorne. Astounding, really," Strauss praised, his eyes gleaming behind his wire rimmed spectacles. "You have transformed a localized security threat into a permanent political advantage. It will make it even much easier for me to communicate with the Mayor and the Sheriff at a later date. They will be entirely pliable to our permit requests and zoning expansions now."
As for Arthur, he remained quiet for a long moment, staring at Caleb with a complex mixture of awe, respect, and a lingering, instinctual wariness. He let out a slow, heavy breath.
"You know," Arthur said, his voice quiet, meant only for the small circle of their group, "I didn't involve myself much in such things in the past. The politics, the manipulating the big wigs. That was usually done by Dutch and Hosea. They were the ones who spun the webs."
Arthur stepped a fraction closer, his eyes locking onto Caleb's. "But I have to say, Caleb... you are much more dangerous than Dutch and Hosea ever were with playing such things. After all, the two of them did it to act. To put on a show so we could rob a bank or fleece a rich family, and then we'd run into the mud. As for you... you do it because it's your power. You don't do it to run away. You do it to make sure the whole damn world stays your way."
Caleb smiled at that, a genuine, appreciative expression. Arthur had finally grasped the fundamental difference between the Van der Linde gang's past and the empire Caleb was currently forging.
"I would never do it for bad things, Arthur," Caleb said softly, his tone completely earnest. "Just like you said, I just do it to make sure that the way of the plan stays in my way. And that includes making sure the entire gang is safe. Making sure Mary-Beth is safe. And making sure that we finally have a bright, untouchable future where we don't have to sleep with one eye open."
Caleb looked out over the sprawling town of Strawberry below them, the wooden rooftops baking in the afternoon sun. "While it might be too risky sometimes, and the games I play with these mob bosses and politicians could be dangerous... I have an anchor."
He turned his gaze back to the woman standing beside him, his eyes softening entirely. "I have Mary-Beth here to ensure I wouldn't go down the wrong path. To remind me why I'm building this shield in the first place."
Hearing Caleb's words, a fierce, protective warmth bloomed in Mary-Beth's chest. She stepped closer, holding his hand tightly in both of hers. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with absolute, unwavering devotion.
"And I will make sure that never happens," Mary-Beth said fiercely, her voice trembling slightly with the weight of her promise. "You won't lose yourself in the dark, Caleb. I won't let you."
Caleb smiled at that, his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand, profoundly grateful for the light she provided in his otherwise blood soaked existence.
While the moment was incredibly tender, Herr Strauss, ever the pragmatic man of schedules and ledgers, cleared his throat politely. At this time, Strauss step forward.
"The workers are taking their midday break," Strauss noted, checking a silver pocket watch. "And we could have some snacks or eat a proper meal away from the sawdust."
And so, guided by the fastidious accountant, the four of them went to a room in the finished part of the construction. It was a spacious suite on the ground floor, intended to be a VIP parlor.
The walls were already paneled in rich, dark mahogany that smelled strongly of fresh lacquer and lemon oil, and a large, pristine Persian rug covered the center of the hardwood floor.
A sturdy oak table had been set up in the center of the room, where some foods and fresh bread had been prepared. It must be a servant or a private chef hired by Strauss to do it for him, Caleb realized, noting the high quality of the spread. There were thick slices of roasted venison, sharp wedges of imported cheese, bowls of fresh mountain berries, and a steaming pot of rich black coffee.
They sat down in comfortable, upholstered chairs and enjoyed the foods there, the tension of the morning's violence completely bleeding away in the quiet luxury of the room. The venison was tender, the bread crusty and warm, a stark contrast to the hardtack and wild game the gang was historically used to.
Where, as they ate, Caleb turned his mind back to the logistical gears of his growing empire. He asked Strauss, his tone shifting back to that of a focused executive, "By estimation, Herr Strauss, how long will the construction of this specific part end? The main lobby and the ground floor suites?"
Strauss dabbed his mouth neatly with a linen napkin before consulting his ever present ledger.
"In several days, sir," Strauss said confidently. "The carpenters are working at an exceptional pace. However, that is exactly why the Pelton wheel turbine we discussed earlier is very important. Without the power generation, we cannot begin the electrical wiring or the plumbing pressure tests. So that when the next phase of construction started, we wouldn't be off the estimated date. Delays cost money, Mr. Thorne."
Caleb nodded his head at that, understanding the critical bottleneck in their supply chain. "I understand. I will return back to Saint Denis soon. So don't worry, Strauss. I will handle the wheel problem there. I'll secure the industrial contacts and have it loaded onto a private freight train bound for Wallace Station before the week is out."
After that was done, and the plates were cleared, the afternoon sun began its slow descent toward the western peaks, casting long, golden shadows across the valley. It was time to leave the sanctuary of the mountains and return to the reality of the Heartlands.
Caleb, Mary-Beth, and Arthur walked out to the hitching posts and got on their horses. Morgan snorted, tossing her dark mane, eager to stretch her legs on the open road.
"Keep the ledgers balanced, Herr Strauss," Caleb said, tipping his hat to the accountant. "And keep the Mayor on a short leash."
"Naturally, Herr Thorne," Strauss replied, offering a stiff, respectful bow. "Safe travels to you all."
They said their final goodbyes to Strauss before then they rode out of town. They crossed the sturdy wooden bridge over the rushing river, the sound of the white water echoing off the canyon walls, and began the steady climb out of the Strawberry valley.
As they reached the crossroads near the edge of the Big Valley tree line, their paths naturally diverged. They were heading back to the northeast toward the homestead for Arthur. The enforcer needed to return to Hosea and the rest of the gang to help manage the quiet, simmering aftermath of Dutch's funeral.
"I'll see you back at home," Arthur grunted, pulling his horse's reins to veer off the main road. He offered Caleb a nod of profound, silent respect, a complete acknowledgment of the changing of the guard. "Keep your eyes open in town, Caleb."
"Always, Arthur," Caleb replied.
And for Caleb and Mary-Beth, they headed to Valentine. Caleb had legitimate business to attend to in the muddy livestock town before returning to the gang's hideout.
On the long, scenic ride back there, the dense pine forests gradually gave way to the rolling, grassy plains of the Heartlands. The air warmed slightly, losing the sharp bite of the high elevation. Mary-Beth leaned her head against Caleb's back, enjoying the steady, rocking rhythm of Morgan's gait.
"Caleb?" Mary-Beth asked, her voice carrying softly over the wind. "When will you go back to Saint Denis?"
Caleb adjusted his grip on the reins, his mind instantly shifting from the peaceful plains to the smoke-choked, blood stained streets of the southern city. The mob war was still raging, and Guido Martelli's old empire needed a firm, ruthless hand to guide it into total domination.
Caleb responded without hesitation, saying, "In two days."
He felt Mary-Beth's arms tighten slightly around his waist, a silent expression of her reluctance to see him ride back into the line of fire.
"Because I also have matters that need to be finished there," Caleb explained gently, wanting her to understand the necessity. "Angelo Bronte thinks he's won the war, and Cornwall is bleeding money. I need to be there to pull the final strings and ensure the collapse happens exactly on my schedule."
He patted the thick leather satchel resting securely against his thigh. "But right now, I need to send these schematics and designs into the mail station in Valentine."
The satchel contained the future. He had meticulously put the massive stack of parchment into a thick, waterproof manila folder he had put into his satchel before they left for Strawberry today. It contained the flawless, mathematically perfect blueprints for the M1911 semi automatic pistol, the auto-loading shotgun, the advanced bolt action rifle, and the terrifying, high capacity submachine gun.
"I have to send it to the Marlin Brothers," Caleb continued, a note of dark, triumphant anticipation in his voice, "so they can begin research and then the immediate production of these weapons. Once those guns hit the market, Mary-Beth, our financial shield will be absolutely impenetrable."
Mary-Beth rested her cheek against his back, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. She didn't fully understand the mechanical intricacies of the weapons he had drawn, but she understood the power they represented. As the muddy, bustling outskirts of Valentine finally came into view on the horizon, she knew that the man riding in front of her wasn't just surviving the dying of the West, he was the one pulling the trigger on the new century.
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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 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: -