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After taking one last look around, he turned Morgan back toward Valentine, retracing the path he had taken earlier. The quiet of the wilderness surrounded him as he made his way back, the weight of the plan settling in his chest. Tomorrow, he would finish this. Tomorrow, Micah would be no more.
When he finally reached Valentine's, it was already afternoon, the sun dipping lazily westward as the town bustled in its usual, unhurried rhythm.
Caleb dismounted Morgan at the familiar hitching post in front of the general store, patting the gelding's neck fondly before tying the reins loosely. Morgan snorted, shifting her weight but remaining calm, the long ride had worn them both out, but there was still work to be done.
Pushing open the door, Caleb entered the general store to the familiar scent of wood polish, leather, and faintly lingering tobacco smoke.
Mr. Worth, the graying yet spry shopkeeper, was stacking tins on a high shelf behind the counter. He turned at the sound of the bell above the door, a warm smile splitting his weathered face.
"Hello there, Caleb!" Mr. Worth called out, setting down a tin with a soft clatter. "What can I do for ya today?"
Caleb returned the greeting with a polite nod and an easy smile. "Hello, Mr. Worth. I'm looking to buy the cheapest boots, vest, coat, shirt, trousers, and hat you've got in stock."
That made Mr. Worth blink in surprise. He cocked his head slightly, wiping his hands on his apron. "Cheapest, huh? That's a far cry from the fine things you usually pick out. I rember you springin' for that Vaquero outfit so ti back. Good quality stuff. Mind if I ask why the sudden change?"
Caleb chuckled softly, an easy, practiced sound as he thought quickly on his feet. "Ain't for ," he said smoothly. "Helped out soone a little ways outside town. Poor fella's been havin' a rough ti. Needs so clothes to get back on his feet."
Mr. Worth's expression softened imdiately, and he nodded, setting down the rest of the tins. "Well, ain't that sothin'. Good on you, son. Let get you sorted proper."
The old shopkeeper disappeared into the storeroom behind the counter, leaving Caleb to browse the shelves idly. He didn't have to wait long, Mr. Worth soon returned, his arms laden with various garnts.
He laid them out carefully, a rough linen coat, plain cotton shirt, sturdy but worn trousers, a scuffed but serviceable vest, simple work boots, and a floppy brown hat that had clearly seen better days but would still provide shade from the sun.
"Picked out the best of the cheap stuff," Mr. Worth said with a grin. "Should hold together for a good while, even if they ain't fancy."
Caleb nodded appreciatively. "I'm mighty grateful, Mr. Worth. How much for the lot?"
The older man waved a dismissive hand. "12 dollars. And don't you argue with , Caleb. Think of it as chippin' in for a good cause."
Caleb's heart gave a twinge of guilt, Mr. Worth believed him so wholeheartedly. But, well, a discount was a discount. He offered a sheepish smile and pulled out a handful of bills, counting out 12 dollars exactly.
"Thank you, mister," Caleb said sincerely, handing over the money.
"Don't ntion it," Mr. Worth said, already tucking the bills into his cash register. "World could use a few more folks like you."
Caleb gathered up the clothes into a neat bundle and left the store, giving Morgan another reassuring pat as he climbed the steps of the nearby hotel.
He nodded politely at the working girls, who were dusting the windowsills outside, and made his way up to his rented room.
Inside, he set the clothes down on the bed and carefully folded each item, making sure they were as compact and neat as possible.
He intended to store them inside Stark's saddlebags, as people in Strawberry surely more or less notice him and Morgan, so by riding Stark, he hoped it would disguise himself even further as a newcor in town. Tomorrow, Stark would carry him to Strawberry and to Micah's final reckoning.
Caleb sat down heavily in the worn wooden chair by the window, resting his chin in his hand as he stared out over Valentine's muddy streets.
The plan played over and over in his mind like a well oiled machine. He'd morized the layout of Strawberry. He knew the timings, the flow of townsfolk, the patterns of the lawn.
Micah Bell wouldn't know what hit him.
He stayed seated there for a while, watching the townspeople go about their afternoon routines, a woman carrying a basket of apples, a pair of young boys chasing a mangy dog, and the clatter of a wagon hauling supplies toward the stables. Normal life.
And he would disrupt it but not here. In Strawberry, and only for one man.
As the sun dipped lower, Caleb forced himself up. He spent the rest of the evening preparing ticulously. He packed Stark's saddlebags with the new clothes, carefully layering them so they wouldn't get damaged.
He checked his weapons with thodical precision, his twin Schofield revolver, his Lancaster repeater, and his Cattlelam revolver with the suppressor, making sure each was cleaned, loaded, and ready. He even sharpened his knife, though he hoped he wouldn't have to use it.
When night fell, Caleb ate a simple al of stew and bread in the Saloon spending 4 dollars, nodding along to the quiet chatter but saying little himself.
Afterward, he returned to his room, locking the door behind him. He sat at the edge of the bed, staring down at his hands. They were steady, and strong. He would need that steadiness tomorrow.
He slept lightly, the dreams that ca to him were swift and fevered, flashes of gunfire, Micah's sneering face, and the sll of blood in the air.
Caleb woke before dawn, heart pounding, the room still cloaked in darkness. He swung his legs over the bed and sat there for a mont, letting his breathing steady itself.
He steadied his breath as he could already feel the day's heat beginning to seep into the town of Valentine, the dry dirt roads, and the occasional gust of wind sweeping through the streets.
He had woken early, a deep seated determination coursing through him like wildfire. He needed to make sure his body was prepared for the day ahead.
He left his hotel room, his boots making soft thuds on the wooden floors, and went outside into the cool morning air. He could see the faint outlines of townfolk stirring, but for now, the streets were still quiet, with only the occasional creak of a wagon wheel or the distant sound of chickens crowing.
Caleb made his way to a small patch of dirt by the outskirts of town. This was where he decided to do his morning calisthenics, with so fresh air unlike when he did it inside his room.
For the next half hour, he pushed his body through an intense regin, push ups, sit ups, and a series of stretches that helped him limber up. Each push up was a deliberate effort, his muscles straining against his own body weight.
As he moved through the exercises, he could feel the burn in his muscles, but he also noticed a small difference today. There was a slight ease to his movents, as if his body had grown stronger overnight.
After completing his set, Caleb jogged around the periter of Valentine, the ground beneath his boots feeling firr than usual.
His breath ca easier, and his heart rate stayed steady, even as he pushed himself harder, running faster, his feet thudding against the dirt road in a rhythmic pattern.
By the ti he finished his jog, a light sheen of sweat covered his body, and he paused, taking a mont to catch his breath.
The muscles in his legs felt different. Stronger. More powerful. He knew it had to be the result of his consistent exercise, but there was sothing more, sothing inside him had shifted.
Suddenly, as if on cue, Caleb felt the familiar presence of the system interface flash in front of his mind's eye. His heart skipped a beat.
System Update:
Strength: 6 → 7
Stamina: 6 → 7
Caleb's eyes widened as he read the changes. The implications of these upgrades were not lost on him. His combat power had just increased significantly. He could feel it in his hands as he clenched and unclenched them.
His grip was stronger, and he felt less fatigued after his workout. This wasn't just a physical change, it was a ga changer. He would be able to throw harder punches, lift heavier objects, and endure more physical strain. It was exactly what he needed for the day ahead.
He let out a deep breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. This was exactly the kind of progress he needed. Caleb took a mont to enjoy the rush, but he knew it wouldn't last long. There was still work to be done.
He continued with his morning routine, stretching out the soreness in his muscles before heading back to the hotel. Once inside, he paid 25 cents for a hot bath, feeling the warm water envelop his tired body.
The steam helped to relax him, but his mind was already racing toward the task at hand, dealing with Micah. That's what he had co here for.
After the bath, Caleb changed into his Vaquero Outfit. It fit him well, he'd gotten used to wearing the sturdy, functional clothes during his travels.
The weathered leather and wool felt right against his skin as he slid his boots on and tightened his belt. He felt like himself again, ready for the challenge.
He made his way down the stairs and out into the Saloon, where the afternoon crowd was starting to gather. Caleb ordered a beer for 25 cents and sat at the bar, taking small sips as he ate so salted venison from his own supply.
He chatted with a few patrons, Mr. Douglas among them, but kept his words few, his mind far away from the idle gossip of the Saloon.
Once his al and drink were finished, Caleb made his way toward the Sheriff's Office. As he walked, a sudden idea struck him. A bounty. It could be a good excuse to leave Valentine. He figured it might provide so cover for his real mission, finding and killing Micah Bell.
When he entered the Sheriff's Office, he saw Sheriff Malloy sitting at his desk, a cigarette hanging from his lips. The sheriff looked up as Caleb walked in, nodding his head in acknowledgnt.
"Looking to hunt so more bounty, Caleb?" Sheriff Malloy asked, eyeing him curiously.
Caleb gave a small nod, glancing at the bulletin board in the corner of the room. Sure enough, there was a new wanted poster tacked to the wall. Caleb stepped closer, inspecting it closely.
The poster read:
WANTED: PAUL KORK
Murderer
45 DOLLARS REWARD - DEAD OR ALIVE
Caleb smirked. It was a good enough bounty to make it seem like he was leaving town for a legitimate reason. He could kill two birds with one stone.
He could track down this Paul Kork, collect the bounty, after he heads into Strawberry, and kill Micah whose reckoning will co.
"Ah Mr. Kork, he was last seen around Erald Ranch. You better be careful Caleb, he had killed more than 5 people with his knife." Sheriff Malloy said to Caleba a he saw him look at the poster.
"Thanks for the tip, Sheriff," Caleb said, taking the poster off the board and tucking it into his jacket.
"Anyti," Sheriff Malloy replied, his voice gruff.
With the bounty in hand, Caleb left the Sheriff's Office and returned to the hotel. He retrieved the bundle of clothes he had folded last night, carefully slipping them into Stark's saddlebags. He tightened the straps, checking everything twice to make sure nothing was missing.
He would change into these clothes during his ride to Strawberry, allowing him to beco a new stranger who cos into town when he arrives. He spent a few more minutes making sure his gear was ready. His revolvers were clean and loaded, his repeater was secured, and the Cattleman with a suppressor was safe inside his satchel.
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Na:Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 6/10 -> 7/10
- Agility: 6/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 6/10 -> 7/10
- Charm: 5/10
- Luck: 5/10
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 1)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 2)
- Poker (Lvl 1)
- 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)
Money: 629 dollars and 61 cents
Bank: 40 dollars, 2 gold bars, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets
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