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Cornwall's face turned crimson. "Van der Linde has been stealin' from for months. My trains, my payroll, my bonds, and even my oil! Van der Linde and his gang think they can outwit ! But they are making a big mistake thinking they can outwit ! Now I ask again, where's Van der Linde?!"
"Again, Mr. Cornwall," Caleb said, narrowing his eyes. "Ain't no Van der Linde here. And unless you got an authority or cause, you and your n are gonna need to lower those guns and move along."
One of Cornwall's n spat. "He's lying."
Caleb's gaze sharpened. "Calling a lawman a liar's a bold move, friend."
Cornwall glared, then jerked his chin toward the saloon. "Search it."
Two n moved forward, but Caleb sidestepped, blocking their path. "You got any authority or law power to do so?"
The guard riding a horse beside Cornwall moves his horse a step forward. "We've got authority and cause under Mr. Cornwall's na as—"
"I don't think Mr. Cornwall's na ain't got jurisdiction or law power in Valentine without going through or the Sheriff," Caleb interrupted, his hand now resting plainly on the butt of his revolver. "This is Valentine, not your private fiefdom Mr. Cornwall. So unless you want a legal ss, I suggest you rein this in before things get bloody."
Cornwall stared hard at Caleb. He saw sothing in the young man's eyes, steel, maybe. Resolve. A willingness to fight if pressed. His jaw twitched. Even if he is rich and brings his contingent of private guards, he isn't stupid to ss in a frontier town where its people have guns unlike in Saint Denis.
He spat to the side and flicked the end of his cigar. "You're making a big mistake, Deputy."
Caleb didn't move. "I'll live with it."
Cornwall seethed, then yanked on the reins. "Co on," he barked at his n. "We'll find him ourselves."
The private guards hesitated but obeyed, lowering their weapons as they followed Cornwall down the muddy main road, where two carriages followed through. A few townsfolk who had begun to peek out of windows quickly ducked back inside.
Caleb watched them until they were out of sight, his pulse steady but adrenaline simring beneath his calm.
Then he turned and walked back inside the saloon.
Mr. Keane looked up from behind the bar, mouth slightly open. "Hell of a show, Deputy."
Caleb gave him a tired smile. "Yeah. But this ain't over. Not by a long shot."
He glanced toward the back door, wondering how far the others had gotten. Dutch would want answers, and Caleb had a lot to give him. But for now, he had bought them ti.
Ti to disappear for the gang. Ti to regroup. And for the gang to change their camp. He also needs to be careful around camp, since now it ans the Pinkertons are very close around there.
Now he had a report to file and a story to spin to Sheriff Malloy. As essentially, he had made Valentine's law in a small conflict with Leviticus Cornwall.
Caleb downed the last of his whiskey in one burning swallow, the liquor settling like liquid fire in his gut. He set the glass down with a quiet clink and stepped out into the afternoon sun.
As soon as Caleb left Keane's Saloon, he stepped into the midday glare. The sun beat down on Valentine's dusty street, the shadows of the overhanging saloon roof shrinking as the hours passed. He gave a brief glance at the hitching post outside Keane's was empty except for Morgan, Dutch's prized white Arabian and Strauss's nag were long gone.
So they'd whistled from their hiding place. Smart. Dutch never wasted ti once the smoke began to rise. The gang truly needs to be on the move as soon as possible, packing up camp to shift out of the region.
Mounting Morgan, he gave a small pat on her flank. The horse huffed softly, sensing the tension in her rider.
"Let's go, girl. Ti to pay the Sheriff a visit."
Morgan trotted steadily through the muddy lane toward the Sheriff's office, her hooves kicking up bits of muck and dirt as she went. When Caleb reached the hitching post beside the small wooden building, he tied Morgan off with practiced ease. That's when his sharp gaze caught movent down the main road.
Cornwall and his n were still in town and they were making a goddamned scene.
He spotted them up near Smithfield's Saloon and the Valentine Bank, their horses and carriages blocking the street, interrogating townsfolk and ranch hands in the open. Their voices, loud and biting, echoed off the storefronts.
Caleb saw one of Cornwall's guards shove a stablehand against the wall, demanding answers. Others questioned a pair of traveling rchants near the general store, even pulling open their wagon tarp in search of anything or anyone.
The townsfolk weren't taking it well.
A few cowboys lounging on the saloon porch rose to their feet, arms folded. One of them, a wiry man in a brown duster, pulled back his coat just enough to flash the handle of a revolver.
Across the street, two ranch hands erged from the livestock auction with Winchester repeaters in hand, nodding toward the commotion. Even the normally docile shopkeeper Mr. Worths stood with his arms crossed, glaring, from the porch of his store.
Caleb's heart picked up.
Cornwall's voice carried down the street, sharp with frustration. "You people are making a grave mistake! Lower your weapons!"
"Ain't you the one who ca in here wavin' guns around?" a cowboy shouted back.
Another man, a drifter by the looks of him, called out, "Hey, rich boy! You think this is Saint Denis? This here's our town!"
That was the spark.
Several townsfolk raised their weapons, not wildly, but pointed and steady, hands taut with tension. Cornwall's guards, trained and ready, reacted in kind. Pistols and rifles were suddenly aid in every direction.
Caleb clenched his jaw. He knew this could spiral into bloodshed in seconds.
Then he heard the sharp bark of authority.
"What the hell is going on out here?!"
The front door of the Sheriff's office banged open and Sheriff Malloy stord out, boots heavy on the boardwalk. The weathered lawman looked around, eyes squinting under the brim of his hat, taking in the sight of Cornwall's n and angry locals toe to toe.
Sheriff Malloy turned and saw Caleb beside his horse. "Deputy Thorne! What the hell is this?!"
Caleb dismounted calmly and gestured toward the scene unfolding by the bank. "That's what's goin' on, Sheriff. Right there. Mr. Leviticus Cornwall and his guards interrogate the townsfolk, flashing weapons. It's getting real ugly."
Malloy's eyes widened as he followed Caleb's gesture. "Is that—? Is that Leviticus Cornwall?"
Caleb nodded. "They rode into town less than an hour ago. Goes up to the front of Keane's Saloon yellin' about soone nad Van der Linde robbing him. Said he's been hit on trains, payrolls, and even oil shipnts. Claid that this Van der Linde and his gang were here in Valentine's. Now the townfolks ain't too happy that his n pointin' guns in their faces."
Sheriff Malloy stared blankly. "Does the one he ant to look for was Dutch Van der Linde?"
"Should be Sheriff. I don't know who they were. He was loud, too. Caused a scene right there in front of Keane's. I stepped out, and told him I hadn't seen anyone by that na. He tried to send his n into the saloon anyway. I stopped 'em. Told him unless he had authority or had talked with you, he wasn't walking through doors with guns drawn."
Malloy pinched the bridge of his nose. "Christ almighty... You did what a good lawman's supposed to do, son, but... do you know who Leviticus Cornwall is?"
Caleb shrugged. "I know who he was, he was rich and powerful but he ain't the law. Just because he's rich doesn't an he gets to wave guns around and intimidate folks."
Sheriff Malloy gave a dry chuckle. "You've got fire in you. That's good. But it can burn, son. n like Leviticus Cornwall… they hold a grudge. They don't forget slights. Not from lawn, and especially not from a town like ours. He's got influence that reaches Saint Denis, New York, and probably even Washington if he snapped his fingers loud enough."
"Well," Caleb said, his expression steady, "he'll just have to live with being told no for once. I did my job."
Sheriff Malloy stared at him for a long mont, then finally sighed. "C'mon. Let's go try to calm this before soone bleeds all over the mud."
They walked side by side toward the standoff. Malloy raised both hands as he approached, trying to get the attention of the crowd. Caleb walked slightly behind, his eyes flicking across the tension wound faces of ranch hands and Cornwall guards.
"Alright, alright!" Sheriff Malloy barked. "Everybody lower your weapons now! I said now!"
There was a beat of silence. No one moved. Guns stayed raised. Glares held fast.
"Damn it, I said lower 'em!"
Slowly, reluctantly, so of the locals began to comply. The drifter holstered his revolver. The cowboys by the general store lowered their rifles, still watching the guards like hawks.
Cornwall turned, his jowls quivering with indignation. "Sheriff, these… peasants are threatening !"
"Ain't no threat," a grizzled cowboy spat. "Just tellin' you to take your private army and get the hell outta Valentine."
Murmurs of agreent rippled through the crowd.
Sheriff Malloy held up his hands. "Alright, everyone calm down. Mr. Cornwall, you're causin' a disturbance in my town."
Cornwall, red faced and huffing, looked at the townsfolk before he glared at Sheriff Malloy. "Disturbance? You harbor criminals here, Sheriff? You're protecting Van der Linde and his people?"
Sheriff Malloy scowled. "I'm protecting my town, Mr. Cornwall. That includes you. And these folks you're harassing. You co in here screaming about thieves and gang leaders with no authority, no law, and no communication with my office. I'm the law in Valentine's. You answer to while you're here."
Cornwall's lips curled with disdain. "This is outrageous. The man I'm looking for, he's dangerous. You don't understand what he's done, what he will do! I have been robbed, Sheriff. Repeatedly. By Dutch van der Linde and his gang of degenerates. And I have reason to believe they were here!"
Caleb stepped forward. "Like I told you earlier, Mr. Cornwall, ain't no Van der Linde here. Just hardworkin' folks tryin' to live their lives. These peaceful folks don't know this Van der Linde from dirt. If you had co quiet and talked to the Sheriff first, maybe things would've gone smoother."
Cornwall's glare swept over Caleb. "You again. The mouthy deputy. Don't think I'll forget your insolence."
Caleb t his gaze. "Wouldn't expect you to. One thing I know is that if you keep accusin' good people, you're gonna start a fight you can't win."
The crowd rumbled in agreent.
Cornwall's eyes darted around, the hostility was palpable. Even his guards looked uneasy. Finally, he straightened his coat with a huff. "This isn't over. Let's go."
The guards withdrew, holstering their weapons, mounting their horses, and getting in the carriage with clenched jaws and narrow eyes. As Cornwall climbed onto his own steed, he shot one final look over his shoulder.
"You're all making a terrible mistake."
The crowd parted reluctantly as they rode off, hooves pounding against dirt and their carriages rattling behind them, leaving a few jeers following, but the tension eased as they vanished down the road.
Sheriff Malloy let out a long breath. "Damn near had a war on our hands."
Then he exhaled and turned around to face the townfolks. "Alright, the show's over! Get back to your business."
The townsfolk dispersed, though the muttering continued. Caleb caught snippets.
"Who does he think he is?"
"Just an Oil and Railroad tycoon thinks he can make a ss here…"
Sheriff Malloy turned to Caleb, lowering his voice. "That could've gone a lot worse."
Caleb nodded. "Could've. But it didn't. "
The sheriff studied him before shaking his head and letting out a sigh, "You truly got a knack for walking into trouble, son. You got that crazy bastard Edmund and now beco a nuisance to Cornwall. But… you handled it right. Just rember, Cornwall ain't the type to forget a slight."
...
Na: 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 mory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 1)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 2)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 3)
- Poker (Lvl 3)
- 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)
- ntal Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 2)
- Teaching (Lvl 1)
Money: 1463 dollars and 45 cents and 2 gold nuggets
Bank: 320 dollars, 4 gold bars, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets
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