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"Put your masks on," Arthur ordered sharply, voice low but urgent. The three of them dug into their satchels, pulling out rough sackcloth masks and tugging them down over their faces. Caleb felt the coarse weave scrape his cheek, the musty sll of burlap filling his nose.
Arthur gestured with a quick tilt of his head. "Calm the horses. Get 'em tethered to Javier's."
Javier moved first, speaking low and soothing in Spanish as he approached the black thoroughbred. Caleb took the chestnut, murmuring and keeping his movents slow until the animal's wild-eyed shying settled to tense stillness.
But even as his hands worked the lead rope, Caleb's attention slid toward the far fence. He knew, from mory, from experience, from the prickling sense of deja vu, that this was where the job would go wrong.
A figure appeared just as he expected, slipping into view along the fence line. The man's eyes widened, his mouth starting to open.
Caleb was already moving. He closed the distance in three strides, his Civil War knife flashing silver in the dim light. One quick, precise thrust under the ribs, angled up. The man stiffened, a wet gasp catching in his throat, and Caleb eased him down into the grass without a sound.
When he turned back, Arthur and Javier were both staring, surprise flickering behind the eyeholes of their masks.
Arthur gave a short, approving nod. "Quick thinkin'."
Javier's tone was half praise, half disbelief. "Damn, amigo… didn't even give him the chance."
"Better this way," Caleb said simply. He glanced toward the open paddocks. "Now let's move before anyone else shows."
The three thoroughbreds were tethered to Javier's horse in a neat string, their ears flicking nervously but holding steady under firm hands.
Arthur took the lead, guiding them toward the edge of the property where Tavish had told them to go. They cut through the tall wheat, the golden stalks whispering against their legs and flanks, hiding the movent of horses and n alike.
And unlike the way Caleb rembered it, no alarms rang out. No gunshots cracked the stillness.
By the ti they reached the road beyond the Braithwaite land, the sun was dipping low, warm light slanting across the path ahead.
They set their course for Clent Cove, the horses falling into an easy, unhurried pace.
The ride was quiet for a while, just the creak of leather and the soft clop of hooves. Then Javier chuckled, the sound low and pleased. "I gotta say, that went better than I figured. Clean, quiet… easy money."
Arthur nodded, though there was still a guarded set to his shoulders. "Yeah. We'll see how easy it stays. Don't count it done till we got the cash in hand."
Caleb rode between them, gaze on the treeline ahead. "Don't get too comfortable. If the Braithwaites find out those horses are gone before we're done, we'll have more than just them to worry about."
Javier smirked. "You really know how to sweeten a victory speech, Caleb."
Arthur's mouth quirked in faint amusent. "He's right, though. Let's keep it steady."
The landscape shifted as they drew closer to the cove, the air taking on the faint fresh tang of the nearby water. Marsh grass rustled in the breeze, and gulls wheeled lazily overhead.
Caleb knew who they were about to et, the twin brothers Clay and Clive Davies, horse traders who could turn stolen stock into clean sales without asking questions.
He'd dealt with their type in his past life's mory not just from the ga but real life as well, and knew better than to trust them farther than the length of a lead rope.
He knew that if they were to sell a stolen horse or even a few wild ones, the Davies brothers would pay more than most stables, and far more quickly, but these three animals were no ordinary catches.
These were Braithwaite prize thoroughbreds, each worth a fortune on paper. Like Arthur had said, if they couldn't wrangle the full 5,000 dollars, then even a third of it would be more than worth the trouble.
But Caleb rembered all too well what had happened before, the mory from the ga gnawed at him.
When he had played as Arthur, Clay Davies had offered a laughably low price, 700 dollars for the three horses combined, and had said it with the smug certainty of a man who knew the sellers had no better options. Caleb had been furious then, and the thought of letting that repeat here tightened sothing in his chest.
Not this ti.
This ti he would make sure they walked away with at least a third of the promised sum, 1,666 dollars, or 1,500 dollars at the absolute lowest. That was the figure he fixed in his mind as they rode on toward Clents Cove.
The path wound along stone fences that boxed in a broad expanse of green pasture. Even from a distance, Caleb could see figures near the main entrance, a makeshift wooden gate set between two sections of low stone wall.
One man sat on the fence itself, legs dangling idly, a large ledger balanced on his lap. The other leaned with both elbows on the top stone, head tilted toward the first man as if sharing a private conversation.
"That should be the place," Caleb said, voice quiet but certain. "Let's go."
The three of them urged their mounts forward, the trio of prize horses tied neatly in Javier's lead string. Hooves thudded against the dirt, the animals tossing their heads restlessly as the fresh tang of the nearby water drifted in on the breeze.
When they reached the gate, the three dismounted in near unison, boots crunching on the packed earth. Arthur moved up front without needing to be told, his solid fra and asured confidence naturally taking point. Caleb flanked him on the left, Javier on the right, the horses shifting uneasily behind them.
The man on the fence closed his ledger and set it aside, looking them over with an assessing squint. "What can I do for you boys?"
Arthur's tone was calm, almost casual. "Heard you pay real good prices for horses."
The man's face cracked into a slow nod. "Oh, sure." He stretched the word out before adding, "We'll buy more or less anything, pops."
"That so?" Arthur asked.
"Sure, pop."
At that mont, the other man, the one who'd been leaning against the stone, strolled closer, leaning now on the fence's wooden rail. The first man gestured toward him.
"This here's my brother, Clive. And I'm Clay Davies. Twins, if you couldn't tell."
Caleb imdiately stepped in with an easy smile. "Tacitus," he said, patting his own chest, then motioned to Arthur. "Killgore." A tilt of his head toward Javier. "Carlos."
Clay's gaze slid to Javier, his eyes narrowing just a touch. "You a Cuban?"
Javier's expression stayed neutral. "No, I'm not."
Clay gave a shrug that was halfway between dismissal and provocation. "Good. I don't like Cubans."
From beside him, Clive interjected with a lazy, "Is that so?"
"Maybe I am," Clay shot back at his brother. "Why you care? You ain't Cuban."
Javier's mouth curled faintly. "Maybe I like Cubans."
For a mont, Clay just stared at him, then barked a laugh, pointing at Javier with one finger. "You're a funny guy. Ain't he funny, Clive?"
Clive gave a noncommittal nod.
Clay went on, "Clive can't talk much. We're twins, but I was born first. He ca out second, all yellow and black, but he's okay."
Arthur waved a hand as if brushing that aside. "Sure. Whatever you say. Now, about these horses. How much do they fetch for you?"
Clay took the ledger from Clive, flipping it open as he stepped toward the tethered thoroughbreds. He walked a slow circle around them, running his hand lightly along the glossy flank of the black.
"Ahh… yeah, I know these horses," he said after a mont. "And these ain't yours. But I like the three of you. So… I'll give you 650 dollars for the lot."
Arthur's brow furrowed. "We were told we could get up to 5,000 dollars for these horses."
Clay didn't even glance up. "Yeah? I was told the moon was made of ladies' tears. Only it ain't true. Not one little bit."
Javier's expression tightened, and Arthur's voice ca out harder. "We were promised five thousand."
Clay straightened, smirking. "I like you fellas, I do. But I only got 700 dollars on . You want it? Or you want to ride those nags into town and get yourselves hanged for it?"
Arthur stepped forward, jaw set. "Gonna need more than that."
"Gonna get no more than 700 dollars," Clay replied flatly. "Take it or leave it."
That was when Caleb moved. He stepped between Arthur and Clay, his eyes locking onto the horse trader's with a sudden, unmistakable shift in energy. Gone was the easy smile, replaced by sothing colder, sharper.
"Clay," Caleb began, his voice even but laced with steel. "You and I both know what these horses are worth. You've got buyers lined up for stock like this. You'll flip them inside a week for triple what you're offering."
Clay's smirk faltered just slightly. "That so?"
"That is so," Caleb said. "Now, here's how this is going to go. You're going to dig deeper into that pocket of yours or whatever stash you keep close, and you're going to hand over fifteen hundred dollars. We walk away. You turn a tidy profit. Everybody wins."
Clay chuckled, but there was less ease in it now. "You think you can just—"
Caleb took one slow step forward, his voice dropping lower. "If you try to play us for fools, I will make sure you and your brother never sell another horse in this territory. And I don't an by telling stories. I an you'll be gone, Clay. Vanished. No one around here will even bother to ask where you went, just another pair of bodies the marsh swallowed up."
Clive stiffened beside him, eyes narrowing, but Caleb didn't even glance his way.
"You can put on a brave face," Caleb continued, "but you and I both know there's no law down here that's going to co running if two horse fencers disappear. You're replaceable. This is a big state with plenty of n who'd take your place."
Arthur's eyes flicked briefly to Caleb, but he didn't interrupt. Javier leaned back slightly, watching the exchange with sothing between curiosity and appreciation.
For a long mont, Clay said nothing. Then he gave a short, humorless laugh. "You're a hard man, Tacitus."
"I'm a fair man," Caleb said. "Fifteen hundred. Now."
Clay glanced at Clive, who gave a slow, reluctant shrug. Finally, Clay sighed and muttered, "Guess I might be able to scrape that together."
He stepped back toward the ledger, flipping it open and pulling a thick wad of bills from sowhere beneath the pages. He counted quickly, the slap of each bill against the others crisp in the still air.
"Fifteen hundred," Clay said at last, holding it out.
Caleb took it without breaking eye contact. "Pleasure doing business."
Arthur gave a curt nod, clearly satisfied they'd avoided being lowballed. Javier grinned broadly, already picturing the camp's reaction to a haul like this.
As they mounted up, Clay called after them, "Better hope the Braithwaites don't co sniffing around my place for those horses!"
Caleb didn't look back. "Better hope they don't find out you had them in the first place." They rode out of Clents Cove at an easy pace, the sun dipping low over the marsh and the water reflecting molten gold. The weight of the money in Caleb's satchel felt good, better than the 700 dollars insult he rembered.
...
Na: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 7/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 6/10
- Luck: 6/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 3)
- Rifle (Lvl 2)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 3)
- Past Life mory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 2)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 3)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 3)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 2)
- 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)
- Acting (Lvl 2)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
Money: 1,058 dollars and 48 cents
Inventory: 3,245 dollars, 7 gold nuggets, 5 gold bars, 4 silver rings, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 large bags of jewelry, 4 gold rings, two silver rings, four silver pocket watches, a gold buckle, a gold pocket compass, a platinum pocket watch, and 2 Colm's Schofields
Bank: -
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