If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!
Go to spatreon/Tang12
...
In the ga, Caleb rembered how Arthur could show him kindness, and how Mickey rembered it. Even years later, if John visited, Mickey would still talk about Arthur being a good man. That kind of loyalty couldn't be bought. But it could be earned. Caleb walked through the center of town, eyes scanning side alleys and shaded corners.
He found Mickey not far from the stable, sitting cross legged on an overturned crate with a half eaten biscuit in hand. He was humming sothing tuneless, eyes glazed with thought, fingers tracing the air as if rembering old drills.
"Mornin', Mickey," Caleb said gently.
The man's head snapped up. His expression flickered between wariness and hope. "You… you know ?"
"Yeah. Heard about you around town."
Mickey blinked, looked up, and smiled a toothless grin.
"Why that's good to hear, friend! Its a beautiful day to have anew friend! The Lord made the sun shine just right today, didn't He?"
"Sure did. Mind if I sit a minute?"
Mickey nodded enthusiastically. "You can sit, stand, or lay right here beside , I don't mind!"
Caleb took a seat on the ground nearby, back resting against a barrel. He didn't jump into it. He let a few monts pass. Let the silence settle.
"Say, Mickey... how you been holdin' up lately?"
Mickey shrugged. "Better than yesterday, not as good as tomorrow, I reckon. Cold nights, but the bugs ain't bitin'. That's a victory."
Caleb smiled faintly. "You ever wish for a warm place to sleep? Sothin' to keep your hands busy?"
"All the ti," Mickey said, voice softer now. "Just... no one really needs a man like . I'm good at guardin' nothin'. Cleanin' nothin'. Talkin' to no one."
Caleb leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Well... maybe I got sothin' you can help with."
Mickey blinked. "Yeah?"
"Manning' a food stall. Sells hot als, right near the stables. Gonna need help. Extra hands to serve, sweep, keep things tidy. It ain't fancy. But it's honest."
Mickey blinked several tis, processing. "You... you want to help?"
"You show up clean. Sober. Respectful. And you'll have work. You do right by , and I'll do right by you."
Mickey looked like he might cry. He wiped at his nose with a sleeve and stood up awkwardly. "I'll be there. I'll be your best helper. You won't regret it, mister."
Caleb stood as well. "Tomorrow morning. We'll be settin' up for real. et at the stall at seven sharp."
"Seven. I won't be late. I'll sleep by the stables so I can be early!"
Caleb smiled. "Appreciate it, Mickey. Truly."
Mickey grinned. "Ain't no one asked for nothin' in a long ti. You did. That makes you a good man. Like that other fella I know about... Arthur. He was good too."
"Yeah," Caleb said softly. "He was."
With that, Caleb gave Mickey a nod and turned back toward the stall. His body was still sore, but his mind felt lighter. One piece was now in place. The first hire made. He'd need more help, but this was a start. And perhaps the most aningful one.
After leaving Mickey with a promise and a sense of purpose, Caleb made his way down the main street, boots scuffing quietly against the packed earth. The morning sun filtered through light clouds, brushing the town with a golden hue.
His eyes flicked here and there, scanning the townsfolk. But the longer he looked, the more he realized how little he truly knew the people of Valentine beyond the surface.
Store owners? Trusted, sure, but already tied down. Craftsn like George, Elias, and Seth? Busy. Professionals like Mr. Worth or Doc Calloway? Not the kind to flip flapjacks or take orders from rowdy custors.
His mind wandered briefly to others he rembered from his past life, Mr. Black and Mr. White, the escaped prisoners. But if mory served right, they wouldn't show up around Rhodes for a while yet. And besides, he wasn't even near Rhodes now. He was here, in Valentine, and ti was ticking.
So, he racked his brain. Faces ca and went. Old n on porches. Won at the well. Farmhands. So seed friendly. Others indifferent. But were they loyal? Could he trust them not to pocket money or snap at a custor? Eventually, frustration started to gnaw at his temples.
He exhaled sharply and muttered under his breath, "Dammit, I need a drink."
He pivoted and made his way toward the saloon.
It was already lively despite the early hour. A piano tinkled in the background, and the sll of tobacco and stale whiskey hung thick in the air. Caleb stepped inside, imdiately spotting Mr. Douglas behind the counter, drying a glass with his usual practiced rhythm.
Caleb approached and put down 25 cents on the counter. "Beer."
Mr. Douglas looked up, grinned. "Mornin', Caleb. A bottle comin' right up."
He reached beneath the counter and retrieved a dark bottle, popping the cork and sliding it toward Caleb.
"You're startin' early today," he said casually. "That stall takin' more outta you than you expected?"
Caleb took a sip, wiped his mouth, then leaned against the counter. "A bit, yeah. Not the work, though. Just... needin' hands. Folks I can count on. Thought maybe you knew soone. Soone honest. Loyal. Won't stab in the back for a few dollars."
Mr. Douglas tapped the rim of a shot glass thoughtfully. "Hmph. Not a bad question, but not an easy answer neither."
He fell quiet for a mont, brows furrowed as he stared down into the wood grain of the counter. Then he nodded slowly. "Yeah. I got soone in mind. An assistant for the ranchers or so sort, works down by the auction yard. Na's Simon Trel. Kid's 25 this year. Real soft hearted sort. Don't got the muscle for muckin' stalls, but he tries. Problem is, his boss, fella I know, he's always gripin' that Simon's not cut out for the work."
Caleb raised an eyebrow. "Rancher's assistant?"
"Well, sort of. He ain't doing the heavy work like handling the livestock needs or turn them into produce, if that's what you an. More like... Cleaning the pena. Helps the ranchers in building sothing. Help around at the auction yard for miscellaneous things. Folks down there laugh at him behind his back, but he don't seem to care. Keeps helpin'."
Caleb took another swig of beer, then looked at Mr. Douglas more seriously. "You sure he's a good man?"
Mr. Douglas didn't hesitate. "Hundred percent. If he ain't, I'll give you fifty dollars myself."
Caleb chuckled. "Shake on it?"
Mr. Douglas grinned and took his hand. "Deal."
With the handshake firm and settled, Caleb finished the rest of his beer and tipped his hat. "Thanks. I'm gonna head down there now. If he's half the man you say, he'll be workin' for by sundown."
The walk to the auction yard was a fair stretch down past the tracks. The town gave way to a more rugged part of Valentine where cattle pens, hay bales, and wooden posts littered the ground in every direction. Cowboys herded stubborn cattle with loud whoops and cracks of their whips.
Caleb moved through the chaos, eyes scanning the commotion until he spotted a slender young man in a too loose shirt and brown trousers, standing beside a sick looking mule and speaking softly to it.
The mule sneezed, and the young man chuckled. "Don't worry, Bessy. You're gonna pull through."
Caleb approached quietly, keeping his movents slow. "You Simon Trel?"
Simon turned, blinking in surprise. He had a kind face, gentle, open, but shadowed by sleepless nights.
"I am. Can I help you?"
"Na's Caleb Thorne. Heard you're lookin' for more anin' in your work. Maybe sothin' that don't involve gettin' yelled at by a boss who don't understand you."
Simon tilted his head, wary but curious. "Mr. Douglas sent you?"
"He did. Said you were a good man. And that you're workin' below what you're worth."
Simon flushed slightly. "He say that?"
"He did. I own a food stall up near the stables. Gonna open it soon. Gonna need soone who can handle tasks, deal with folks, and not lose their soul in the process."
Simon shifted. "I… I ain't no cook."
"That's alright. Can you keep a counter clean? Can you carry food to folks? Smile when you're dead tired?"
Simon nodded slowly. "Yes, sir. I can do that."
"You know how to follow instructions?"
"Yes."
"Then you got the job. Starts tomorrow. Seven sharp. Sa place I ntioned."
Simon hesitated. "The auction master won't be happy if I leave."
Caleb shrugged. "You getting paid here?"
Simon looked down. "Not… not much."
"I'll pay you fair. And you won't have to break your back lifting things you can't."
Simon was silent, before then extended a hand. "Thank you. Really. I won't let you down."
Caleb shook it. "I believe you."
As he turned and made his way back toward town, Caleb allowed himself a small smile.
Two hires. One from kindness. One from character.
With that his goal of finding reliable staff to support Jasper in the daily operations of the food stall achieved, Caleb felt a quiet sense of relief settle in his chest. The sun had climbed high overhead, beating down with a relentless heat that shimred across the rooftops of Valentine. But for once, the pressure that had followed him since the stall's construction had eased, just a little.
He turned back toward the general store, weaving between townsfolk and wagons with a purposeful stride. The bell above the door gave its familiar jingle as Caleb stepped inside.
Jasper was crouched near one of the lower shelves, sorting canned goods from a wooden crate and arranging them on the display. The younger man glanced toward the entrance at the sound of the bell and smiled when he saw Caleb.
"Hey there, boss. Back already?"
Caleb grinned and tipped his hat. "Afternoon, Jasper. Got a minute to talk? Won't take long."
Jasper wiped his hands on his apron and stood, stretching his back with a low groan. "Sure. Here or outside?"
"Right here's fine," Caleb said, leaning lightly on a support beam near the counter. "Ain't gonna take more than a minute."
Jasper nodded and folded his arms, giving Caleb his full attention.
"Got us two helpers lined up for the stall," Caleb said. "Reliable folks, both of 'em. Mickey, the civil war veteran who's usually found around Valentine, and a young man nad Simon Trel. Used to work down at the auction yard."
Jasper's brows raised at the first na. "Mickey? Civil war veteran? The one arm fella who talks to himself sotis?"
Caleb gave a small nod. "That's the one."
Jasper scratched his head. "You sure that's a good idea? I an, he lost his arm. And he's always lookin' like he ain't seen soap or a comb in years."
Caleb chuckled lightly. "He can man the counter or carry food just fine with one hand. As for the rest? A good bath, a trim, and so decent clothes will fix that right up."
Jasper looked unconvinced for a mont, but Caleb's steady gaze didn't falter.
Jasper slowly nodded, the tension in his posture easing. "Alright. If you trust him, that's good enough for . What about the other one?"
"Simon Trel," Caleb said. "Used to help out around the pens, auction yard type of work. Ain't the strongest, but he's sharp. Quiet, respectful. Got a good heart."
"Hard workers, both?"
"If they ain't now, they will be. I can teach work ethic, Jasper. Can't teach honesty."
Jasper let out a low whistle. "Well damn. Sounds like we're gonna be a full crew tomorrow."
Caleb nodded and smiled. "Yeah. Figured I'd give you bit of heads up first. After all, you'll be workin' with 'em more than . Best if you knew who was comin'."
...
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 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 1)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 2)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 1)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 0)
- Crafting (Lv 2)
- Persuasion (Lvl 2)
- ntal Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 2)
- Teaching (Lvl 1)
- Germanic Language Proficiency (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 5x5x5)
Money: 563 dollars and 50 cents
Inventory: 2,295 dollars, 2 gold nuggets, 5 gold bars, 4 silver rings, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets
Bank: -
User Comments
0 comments from readers