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Caleb's smile widened slightly as they reached the hitching post. He began untying Morgan's reins while he spoke. "When I was waitin' for you at the saloon, I overheard somethin'. Ranchers and drifters run their mouths when they drink, y'know? Turns out there's a bank wagon. Makes its way to Strawberry 'round the same time every day. Gets robbed every few days. Always the same path, same damn guards. Bank ain't smart enough to change the route, just hired more muscle."
Arthur paused, his hand resting on his saddle. He looked up slowly, eyes narrowing. "You serious""
"Dead serious," Caleb said, swinging up into his saddle. "So maybe… when we get back to camp, that little lie you told Dutch this mornin'… turns out to be the truth."
Arthur let out a surprised laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Well, I'll be damned… How the hell did you hear all that in the saloon?"
Caleb gave him a shrug, trying to look casual. "Ranchers always shout when they're on their fifth whiskey."
In truth, Caleb hadn't heard a damn thing in the saloon. He remembered it, every detail, from the game. A main mission Arthur could undertake with Micah after he releases Micah from jail, involves a tip from an O'Driscoll rotting in the Strawberry jail.
But this time, the Past Life Memory had triggered on its own, unbidden, during their ride back from the Chelonians to Valentine, reminding him of the game's bank wagon mission as he thought about what to do next after escorting Jamie back to Mary.
It had returned to him like a scene from a dream he didn't know he was still dreaming. A clear vision, with all its dialogue and motion, like watching the mission unfold in the third person again.
Arthur let out a breath and mounted up beside him. "Hell, maybe this ain't such a waste of a day after all."
They turned their horses and began riding back out toward the forested trails that led toward Horseshoe Overlook. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the valley, and a gentle wind rustled through the pines.
For a while, they didn't speak. Just rode in silence, the rhythm of hooves on dirt their only soundtrack.
But eventually, Arthur broke it.
"You think I'm a coward?" he asked suddenly, his tone too light to be casual.
Caleb didn't answer immediately. He adjusted the reins and looked out across the hills before finally replying.
"I think," he said slowly, "you know how to pick your battles. And when you don't… you stick around long enough to regret 'em."
Arthur grunted. "Ain't much comfort."
Caleb shrugged. "Ain't meant to be. But you're still here. And Mary? She'll remember that."
Arthur said nothing more, but his jaw worked as if he wanted to say something and didn't quite have the words. That silence, too, said plenty.
They rode into camp just as darkness settled in. The fire was already going, flickering in the pit, casting orange light on the faces gathered around it, Uncle, Pearson, Javier, Bill, Tilly, Karen, Sean, John, and Hosea. While the other possibly is in their own tent. Dutch was nowhere in sight. Might be in his tent with Molly. Good. Less explaining to do for now.
Arthur dismounted and began tending to his horse while Caleb unloaded his satchel, eyes scanning the camp for any signs of trouble. There was none tonight, just the quiet lull that sometimes came after a storm.
Arthur sat by the fire eventually, not saying much, staring into the flames like they held answers. Caleb sat nearby, sharpening his knife casually, his mind already turning to the bank wagon. Planning the timing, the terrain, and the fallback routes.
He remembers that when playing the game as Arthur, he met up with Micah at his camp at Monto Rest, slightly northwest of Strawberry. Then they ride northeast and wait in a rocky hill south of Little Creek River, as the bank wagon will pass through the main road there.
Where Arthur and Micah then ride down and attack the bank wagon which is guarded by 6 guards, consisting of 4 riders and 2 on the wagon as the driver and on the shotgun.
Of course, unlike in the game, Caleb planned to take the money immediately from the wagon and discard it there. Unlike in the game where Micah insisted on bringing the wagon, resulting in them encountering the O'Driscolls who wanted to rob the bank wagon as well.
Caleb shifted his position near the fire, the knife in his hand still gleaming with oil and the slow scrape of steel against stone. The rhythm of sharpening slowed, and he glanced sideways at Arthur, who sat staring into the fire like it might answer a question that had haunted him longer than he'd admit.
Without raising his voice, Caleb leaned closer and asked in a low, almost casual drawl, "So… when do you wanna hit the bank wagon? If what I heard back in the saloon's true, we could hit it any day."
Arthur blinked, like waking from a deep thought, his gaze lifting from the flames to Caleb. His features tensed slightly with alertness. "So we really gonna rob that bank wagon?" he muttered again, though this time it wasn't skepticism, it was readiness rising to the surface.
"Dead serious," Caleb replied, slipping the knife into its sheath and resting his hands on his knees. "Timing's up to you, but I reckon the sooner, the better. Less chance of the usual group that robs the bank wagon robbing it."
Arthur nodded slowly, rubbing his chin with rough fingers. "We do it soon, yeah. But we need to be ready. I ain't gonna go runnin' in half cocked and come out with a bullet in the neck."
"Right," Caleb said, nodding. "That's why I'll ride into Valentine tomorrow. Poke around subtle like, ask a few of the shopkeeps and stablehands if they heard any talk about the wagon. Route changes, number of guards, times. Just pretend I'm tryin' to avoid the area, not rob it."
Arthur smirked at that, sitting up straighter. "Not bad. That's smart. Get people talkin' by lookin' like you're cautious of runnin' into it."
"Exactly." Caleb flashed a small grin. Inwardly Caleb thought that even though he already knew how it's gonna go down, he still gotta play the part of looking up for information.
Arthur leaned over and clapped him on the back, the strength of the gesture knocking Caleb forward slightly. "Good. You keep that up and Dutch's gonna start listenin' to you more than me."
Caleb rolled his eyes, brushing off the shoulder Arthur had slapped. "Right. Then you can be the one cookin' beans with Pearson."
Arthur chuckled low in his throat, clearly enjoying the moment, and leaned back on his log seat. Caleb glanced at him again. "You still got that sack cloth mask John got us for the train job?"
"Yeah," Arthur said, lifting an eyebrow. "Why?"
"We reuse it for the bank wagon. Hide our faces, same as before," Caleb explained. "But I say we take it one step further. Buy cheap clothes, shirts, coats, hats, even boots, stuff we wouldn't mind throwin' out after. That way no one remembers what we were wearin', no trail to follow."
Arthur's face lit up with something between appreciation and pride. "That's actually real clever. Better than the damn train job. We didn't even change any of our clothes at that time."
Caleb smirked again. "I do my best to impress."
"Guess that means I'm on clothes duty," Arthur said, shaking his head with amusement. "You go sniffin' for info, I'll go find something ugly and baggy that don't scream Van der Linde gang."
"Perfect," Caleb replied. "Split the work. Good teamwork, ain't it?"
Arthur chuckled and pointed a finger at him. "Cheeky little bastard. But yeah, I'll take care of it."
With the groundwork laid, Caleb stood up and made his way toward the stew pot, where Pearson had set out some food. Tonight's supper was thick slices of prime beef steak, cooked with chunks of potato and onion from a dwindling supply.
Pearson had made good use of the remaining bison meat, the rich scent filling the cool night air. Caleb loaded his plate and sat down to eat, savoring each bite with the quiet satisfaction of someone who'd earned it.
By the time the stars shone high above and the fire burned lower, he returned to Arthur's wagon. He unrolled his bedroll beside Arthur's bed and lay back, arms folded behind his head, staring up at the night sky. The plan settled in his mind like the final piece of a puzzle. He closed his eyes, and sleep came quickly.
The first light of dawn crept over the ridge, gold and pale blue slicing through the mist that hung low in the trees around Horseshoe Overlook. Caleb stirred before most of the others, pushing himself upright and stretching the stiffness from his limbs.
Morning ritual, same as always.
He began with slow stretches to loosen the muscles in his shoulders and back, followed by calisthenics, squat thrusts, mountain climbers, and lunges. He finished off with fifty sit ups and fifty push ups, not yet winded but warmed enough to keep sharp. Then came the jog, a brisk lap around the outer ring of the camp.
Pearson grumbled as Caleb ran past. "Ain't no damn military here, kid…"
Caleb just gave him a wave and kept going.
After the exercise, he toweled off and changed into his chosen outfit for the day, his Vaquero attire. Sturdy, stylish, but nothing too eye catching. A good blend of rugged and functional.
He saddled Morgan, who neighed softly in greeting and nudged at him for a rub behind the ears. Caleb obliged with a smile.
"Alright, girl. Let's go stir the town a little."
The ride to Valentine's was peaceful. Caleb took the main trail northward, careful to keep a steady pace and avoid unwanted attention.
When he arrived in town, Valentine was still rubbing the sleep from its eyes. The smithy was already hammering away, Old Bob was cleaning off the blood soaked bench. Caleb dismounted near the hitching post at the hotel and tied Morgan off.
As he did so, Caleb was surprised by the sudden appearance of his system interface in front of him, a translucent screen flickering into place with a soft ding that echoed faintly inside his head.
[Skill Leveled Up!]
[Horse Mastery: Level 2 → Level 3]
"Your bond with horses has grown stronger. You now understand basic horse body language, vocal cues, and can ride with greater balance while multitasking. Shooting on horseback is now more accurate and stable. Speed and responsiveness of bonded horses slightly improved."
Caleb blinked, then let a grin spread slowly across his face. "Well now," he muttered to himself, glancing at Morgan with a new sense of respect. The mare nudged his shoulder gently with her nose, snorting softly.
He could feel it, deeper understanding coursed through him, not mystical, but instinctive. He recognized the subtle tension in her shoulders, the flick of her ears, even the rhythm of her breathing.
"Good girl," he said, patting her neck and brushing his fingers through her mane. "We're gonna need every bit of that bond tomorrow."
He took a moment to check her hooves, brush down her flanks, and adjust the saddle straps with practiced hands. Everything about caring for her now felt smoother, more natural. Like he'd done it a thousand times in a thousand lives. The thought brought a quiet satisfaction.
Thinking of the job ahead, he nodded to himself and turned toward the saloon.
The saloon in Valentine was already lively despite the early hour. Caleb stepped through the swinging doors, the scent of tobacco smoke, whiskey, and stale sweat wrapping around him like an old coat.
He scanned the room with casual ease, two men at the poker table, one slouched drunk over a bottle, the barkeep wiping down glasses. Same faces as usual.
He ordered a hot plate of prime beef steak and a glass of whiskey, the food rich and satisfying, the drink warm as it slid down his throat. Cost him 8 dollars and 50 cents, but worth every penny for the nourishment and the cover it gave him to loiter.
Caleb leaned back in his seat, chewing slowly while enjoying his food. After his meal, he hung around for a couple of hours, blending in and playing poker to pass the time. The game wasn't particularly hard, and with a few bluffs and clever folds, he walked away with a tidy 12 dollars gain.
As the sun moved past noon, he decided it was enough. Time to head back.
Outside, Morgan was waiting patiently, flicking her tail as he approached. He mounted up and rode out at a relaxed trot, keeping to the shade of trees and the quiet of the trail.
Horseshoe Overlook was alive with midday activity when Caleb returned. He dismounted from Morgan and tied her up near the hitching post, giving her one last affectionate pat on the neck. Then he spotted Arthur near the wagons, crouched down beside a big sack filled with faded clothes and dusty hats.
...
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) → (Lvl 3)
- 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: 956 dollars and 43 cents
Bank: 320 dollars, 4 gold bars, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets