If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!
Go to spatreon/Tang12
___________________________
With all that, he could realistically seed sothing stable, sothing lasting. Outlaw work was bloody, chaotic, and rarely ended well. Dutch's dreams were admirable but flawed, and Caleb knew that the gang's story would end eventually, even if Micah was out of the picture, as the wild west ti also ca to an end slowly.
Sothing real.
And in this world, this wild, untad echo of the Old West, knowledge was power, even more than bullets, and of was done very right.
Soap crossed his mind first. The current kind, lye soap, was harsh, corrosive, and reeked like overcooked bacon fat.
He rembered how often people in town itched at their skin, and how expensive proper bathing could be in Saint Denis. A gentler formula, even just with added fat ratios and herbs, could be a luxury item for townsfolk and travelers alike.
But soap required chemical knowledge, lye production, proper balance of oils, maybe lavender or lemon balm for scent. It could be dangerous if not done right.
Insect repellent was next. Every damn ti he passed through swampy areas or dense woods, he rembered the sheer annoyance of the mosquitoes. If he could recall even the basics, citronella, crushed peppermint, and lemongrass oil, that might work. The challenge? Where to get the materials. How to extract oils? He might need a proper distiller. Maybe he could find a local herbalist… or better yet, learn it himself and gain the skill in the process.
Then ca a tastier idea, a candy. Not just sugar lumps or chocolate candy, but sothing akin to peppermint chews or breath mints. A proper treat that freshened the breath. Even the rich in Saint Denis would kill for sothing like that.
And then the next idea that ca into his mind was pastries. Caleb rembered baking in his past life with his grandma before she passed away. Cookies. Pound cake. Sweetbread. Back then, it was to spend ti with his grandma and also to kill ti.
Here? That knowledge was a goddamn gold mine. If he could make sothing simple, like sweet rolls or jam filled bread, he could start selling them discreetly, maybe through the hotel kitchen or general store.
His thoughts spiraled.
Toothbrushes. Basic ones could be carved, with wooden handles, or with horsehair. Pair that with a basic toothpaste made of crushed charcoal, mint, and baking soda (if he could find so), and he had a product no one else in town was offering.
"Hell," Caleb muttered aloud, taking another bite of his food, "I could open the first general hygiene shop in Valentine's if I had the right people and tools."
But therein lay the problem. Materials. Steady supply. Ti. Labor. Knowledge.
He knew of these things. But he wasn't a chemist or apothecary. He'd need help. Maybe an old tinkerer, a woman skilled in herbs, soone literate and smart enough to grasp these half modern ideas.
And Valentine… Valentine was ideal. Far enough from big players like Angelo Bronte in Saint Denis or the Gray and Braithwaite feud in Rhodes.
Enough travelers, drifters, and ranchers to form a base clientele. Plus, the sheriff at least kept a modest order, and corruption wasn't nearly as widespread as in larger towns, especially since O'Driscoll's hidden business in her had been destroyed by him.
Caleb leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
Maybe he should start with sothing small. Candy. Pastries. Toothbrushes. Easier to control, test, and sell. He could bake a batch, and offer samples at the general store, maybe even through Jasper at the butcher stall.
And from there… expand.
The dream began to take shape. A little network. A small operation. Nothing flashy, nothing illegal. Not yet. Just the slow and quiet build up of sothing new in a dying age.
And with Jasper already showing promise, maybe it was ti to find more people. Not outlaws. Just good folk. Capable. Reliable. Desperate, even desperation, made people loyal if you treated them right.
From there, Caleb began to think about the people he could possibly recruit. People he could trust and also doesn't follow him blindly with idealism, soone who could say what's on their mind, and if he does sothing wrong, warn him and not just let it go.
He didn't want another Van der Linde situation, where the idealism of the mbers turned to ego for the leader, and ego bled into betrayal. But a crew or a team that had folks who could help him lay the foundations of sothing real, sothing lasting? That… he could get behind.
And the first one that ca to mind was Mickey.
The old veteran. A man haunted by the Civil War, missing an arm, living rough in the streets of Valentine. But Caleb rembered him. Rembered his kindness, how he shared what his story, and the touching monts he had with Arthur when he played the ga.
Most people in this world looked at Mickey and saw a broken man, but Caleb saw potential. Loyalty. Grit. Given the right tools and care, Mickey could be a rock in the labor force. He might not be able to fight or hunt like the younger n, but he had lived through hell. That counted for sothing. It ant sothing.
Then there were the Wapiti tribes. Rain Falls. Eagle Flies. Their tribe had been forced to move, survive, resist, and adapt in a land that was no longer theirs. Charles could help there.
With his heritage, his honor, and his empathy, he could bridge that gap. Caleb wouldn't exploit them, never that, but an alliance of so sort? Trade? Mutual support? If anyone could make that happen with grace, it was Charles.
The codic duo ca next to his mind next, Sampson Black and Wendell White. Runaway convicts, yes, but under that constant bickering and slapstick troublemaking, Caleb always sensed sothing more, brotherhood and loyalty.
They just needed a firm hand, soone who believed in them. Caleb thought back to their wild prison breaks and their strange code of ethics. Sure, they were impulsive, but also brave, and they could keep things light when life got too heavy.
And then… Josiah Trelawney.
Now there was a man of charm and smoke. A showman, a talker, a scher. But not evil. Caleb had always liked Josiah in the ga. He had a family that he had to leave behind sotis to look for money. He cared in his own way for his friends. For all the illusions he spun, Trelawney had integrity underneath it all.
If Caleb could offer him a better life, a chance to use those silver tongue skills in a legitimate business, one with low risk and steady profits, he was sure the man would take it. Hell, he could even manage the storefront one day. Let him smooth talk investors or oversee logistics while Caleb focused on the bigger picture.
These were the people he knew from the ga. People with potential. Good hearts.
But there would be others, people who didn't appear in the ga, those the original story never focused on. Locals. Drifters. Hidden talents. The world might be built on code and history, but Caleb had already changed things just by existing. That ripple was widening. He'd keep an open mind, stay watchful.
For now, though, he needed to focus.
First things first was to iron clad Jasper's loyalty to him.
The boy had shown promise. Sharp, adaptable, eager. But loyalty wasn't just about favors, it was about connection, shared vision, and trust. Caleb would make sure Jasper was looked after, maybe teach him more survival skills, and give him more responsibilities. Trust him. That bond would be important later.
As he finished the last bite of beans and cornbread, he stood and cleaned up the empty tin, tucking it neatly into his satchel to toss later. He exhaled sharply, brushing off his pants and checking the two Schofield revolvers at his hip.
Ti to stop thinking for now.
Ti to act.
He left the hotel room, descending the creaky staircase to the first floor. The innkeeper gave him a small nod, which Caleb returned before stepping out into the fresh Valentine air. The wind carried a faint scent of manure and tobacco, with a touch of wildflower that lingered from the hills beyond.
Valentine was lively tonight. The saloon was buzzing with drunken laughter, the clink of glasses, and the ragti lody of a battered upright piano. Lanterns glowed warmly from the windows, and horses stamped their hooves outside, tied to the hitching posts.
Caleb adjusted his hat and stepped through the swinging doors.
Inside, the saloon was its usual storm of sweat, whiskey, and wood polish. Locals sat in clusters, arguing over cattle prices, railroad expansions, and politics. At the far side, near the back window, was the poker table.
Three n sat around it, one in a black suit with a string tie, another with his sleeves rolled up and dirt under his nails, and the third a bearded fellow nursing a cigar and a flask.
Caleb approached with an easy smile. "Mind if I join?"
"Buy in's 5 bucks," the dealer said, nodding toward the stack of coins in front of him. "You lookin' to play serious or just pass ti, Caleb?"
Caleb reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a 5 dollar bill, and laid it down. "I'm here to play. And maybe learn a thing or two, just like before when I played last ti."
The n chuckled, shifting in their seats to make room. Caleb took the empty chair and settled in, letting his fingers run over the worn felt of the table. The cards were slightly bent, the chips scuffed, real, not pristine.
Perfect.
The first few hands were cautious. Caleb folded early, watched the others, paid attention to their tells, the way the man in the suit adjusted his cuff when bluffing, how the bearded one scratched his chin when he had a good hand. His mory worked fast. Patterns ford.
After half an hour, Caleb began to play more aggressively.
He won a small pot with a pair of sevens. Lost the next with a busted straight. Won another by bluffing with absolutely nothing but a confident look and a sip of watered down whiskey. The bearded man cursed under his breath, and the others laughed.
"Got a bit of luck on ya, stranger," the dirt stained man said, pushing his hat back. "Na's Elijah."
"Caleb," he replied, tipping his head. "Looks like lady luck favors today, sorry bout that."
"Not just luck, you've got a good read," the suited man said with a raised brow. "Most folks around here just play to drink."
"Guess I like to play for the long ga."
The hours passed. Caleb lost so hands, won more. His Poker skill clicked upward in front of him. The interface, barely visible unless he focused, flashed briefly as he sensed a subtle shift in his understanding of the ga.
[Poker Skill upgraded to Level 2!]
He could read people better now. Know when to fold, when to press. It wasn't just cards, it was people. Tension. Confidence. Bluff. mory.
By the end of the night, he'd earned a net profit of 35 dollars and 57 cents. Not bad for an evening's work, and better than anything he would've learned drinking himself blind.
He cashed out, nodding politely to the dealer and the other players, who looked at him with a mixture of respect and mild irritation.
Outside, the air was colder. Stars glittered overhead, and the moon hung low and fat, casting a silver sheen over the rooftops.
Caleb walked slowly back toward the hotel, his satchel heavier with coins and his mind sharper from practice.
He paused at the edge of the road, looking out at the quiet town. This place, he thought, could be the beginning of sothing.
Not just survival but stability as well.
The ideas he'd had earlier, soap, candy, pastries, toothbrushes, they weren't just flashes of inspiration. They were viable. The poker ga had reminded him of a simple truth, which is that you don't win by throwing everything at once. You won by knowing when to act. When to fold. When to build the pot. And then went to strike in and gain the pot you built.
________________________________
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 2)
- Poker (Lvl 1) -> (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)
Money: 746 dollars and 93 cents
Bank: 320 dollars, 4 gold bars, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets
User Comments
0 comments from readers