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"Alright girl," Caleb murmured as he mounted up. "Time to cook." He rode out of town, taking a familiar trail that led into a nearby glade not too far from the tree line. The air was fresh, the leaves rustling gently in the wind. He found a small clearing with a level patch of dirt, perfect for setting up camp. The ground was dry and shaded, and a fallen log served as a convenient bench.
He dismounted, gave Morgan a pat, and got to work.
First, the campfire. Using dry twigs and some flint from his satchel, he had a modest flame going within minutes. Once the fire was stable, he pulled the iron grill from his saddlebag and installed it over the fire using the foldable legs. It stood just high enough to get good heat without burning the food.
Next, he opened the satchel, taking out the cloths, three with herbs, one with ground beef, the salt pouch, and the six bread rolls.
He portioned the meat evenly into four piles. With clean hands, he began forming patties, gently pressing them into flat rounds. The first he salted only, letting the meat speak for itself.
The second, he sprinkled in finely chopped Mint and a dash of salt. The third received Oregano, its sharp scent immediately lifting from the mixture. The last was given Creeping Thyme, which he remembered from his game as having a subtly spicy, earthy flavor.
Each patty formed, he carefully placed them one by one onto the grill, listening to the satisfying sizzle as they met the hot iron grate. The meat began to brown, the aroma wafting upward and pulling a satisfied sigh from his chest.
While the patties cooked, Caleb sliced four of the bread rolls in half, laying them open beside him. When he judged the patties halfway done, he flipped each with the tip of his knife, watching the grilled crust form on the other side. Bits of herb crackled and popped in the heat, infusing the smoke with a blend of spices that would make even a seasoned chef jealous.
By the time the last patty was done, the sun had begun its descent behind the trees, casting a warm golden hue over the clearing.
Caleb set the first burger, just salted, on a bread roll. Then one each for the Mint, Oregano, and Creeping Thyme infused patties. No sauces. No cheese. Just honest meat, fresh herbs, salt, and warm bread.
He sat on the log, took the plain salted burger, and bit in.
The texture was just right. Juicy, meaty, slightly crisped from the grill. The salt did its job, drawing out the flavor. It was simple, primal, and good.
Next, he tried the Mint patty. There was a strange brightness to the taste, cool, aromatic. Not bad, but… maybe not right.
Then the Oregano. The sharp, slightly bitter herb gave the burger a rustic, Mediterranean edge. Definitely flavorful, though perhaps a little overwhelming.
Finally, the Creeping Thyme.
He chewed slowly.
Subtle. Woody. A mild heat beneath the savory meat. He nodded to himself. This one. This one had promise.
He polished off the rest of the burgers slowly, jotting mental notes as he ate. Mint was too odd. Oregano could work in smaller amounts. Creeping Thyme was the winner. Imagine if it was put with cheese and onions as well.
As the fire crackled beside him and the clearing fell into quiet twilight, Caleb leaned back on the log and looked up at the dimming sky.
"Frickin' burgers and fries," he murmured again with a chuckle. "Who would've thought?"
This wasn't just nostalgia. It was innovation. Something new to this world. Something people would crave once they got a taste.
He envisioned it now, a stand by the crossroads, smoke curling into the air, townsfolk lined up, curious and hungry. A new name whispered through the streets of Valentine. He grinned.
With that in mind, Caleb cleaned up the remains of his meal. The grease slicked iron grill had cooled by now, and he wiped it down with a clean cloth before folding its legs and sliding it back into the saddlebag.
The fire he doused carefully with water from his canteen, stirring the embers until the smoke thinned out into steam. Satisfied that nothing would catch, he gave Morgan a final pat on the flank.
"Alright girl," he murmured as he mounted up again, "let's head back."
The ride into Valentine was quiet. The trail he took weaved through a few winding hills and stands of pine, the morning breeze cutting through the last remnants of campfire smoke that clung to his coat.
As the town's rooftops peeked through the trees, the sounds of civilization drifted back, hammering from the blacksmith, voices from the general store, and the distant clatter of hooves on wood as someone crossed the bridge over the tracks.
Caleb guided Morgan straight to the hotel and hitched her to the post out front. He gave her a quick brush down with his gloved hand and whispered, "Good job today girl," before stepping through the front doors and climbing the stairs to his room.
Once inside, he unbuckled his gunbelt and laid it gently on the small dresser, followed by his coat. Then, without ceremony, he collapsed onto the bed. The mattress creaked softly under his weight, the linen sheets cool against his back. His eyes shut the moment his head touched the pillow, and sleep came swiftly, deep and dreamless.
through the slats of the window blinds, casting thin, golden lines across Caleb's face. He stirred, then sat up with a slow, deliberate breath. He felt rested, his body alert and sharp in a way that only came after a full night of proper sleep.
He pushed himself off the bed, stretched his arms wide with a satisfying crack of his back, and began his usual routine.
Stretching came first, neck rolls, shoulder rotations, deep bends to touch his toes. He followed it with calisthenics, consisting off jumping jacks to get the blood pumping, then a solid set of sit ups, each one precise and steady. Finally, he dropped into a push up position, hammering out three sets of twenty. No run this morning, he had something more important to attend to.
After toweling off, he dressed again, slinging his gunbelt across his waist and shrugging into his coat. With a final glance in the mirror, he tipped his hat low and headed downstairs.
The lobby was quiet, save for the muffled clink of cutlery from the adjoining kitchen. Outside, the town was already alive. He mounted up on Morgan and turned her down the main road heading east out of Valentine. His destination, Horseshoe Overlook.
The journey back to camp took around 10 minutes. The dirt trail was familiar, winding past rock formations and small clusters of wildlife, a group of deer bounding off into the woods at one point, and a hawk circling overhead. Caleb rode with a steady pace, his mind turning over what he was about to propose.
He hoped Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur would all be there. Too often, one of them, usually Arthur, was out on a ride, scouting, hunting, or following one of Dutch's whims. He didn't want to have this conversation in parts. It needed all three.
As he approached the camp, Lenny was on lookout duty, leaning against a tree with his rifle resting across his lap.
"Morning, Caleb," Lenny called when he saw Caleb. "You're back early. Thought you'd be out several days like usual."
"Had somethin' come up," Caleb said as he approached. "Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur, .are they all still here?"
Lenny nodded, chewing on a sprig of grass. "Yeah. Dutch is in his tent like always, puffin' on one of them cigars. Hosea's readin' that same book again, sittin' by the poker table. And Arthur just finished chowin' down on Pearson's stew."
"Perfect." Caleb hitched Morgan and gave Lenny a nod. "Thanks."
Caleb tipped his hat and made his way to Dutch's tent. The familiar smell of cigar smoke wafted out before he even got close.
"Morning, Dutch," Caleb called.
Dutch glanced up, one leg crossed over the other, a half smoked cigar resting between two fingers. He exhaled a slow plume of smoke before answering. "Well, well. Back already, son. Thought you'd be out for a few days like usual. What brings you here so soon?"
Caleb stepped into the shade of the tent, his tone steady. "Got an offer I'd like to talk to you about. You, Hosea, and Arthur."
Dutch's eyebrows rose slightly. It wasn't often someone asked to include others in a conversation with him, usually, he was the one who decided who needed to be involved. But the seriousness in Caleb's tone kept any irritation at bay. After a beat, he stood and dusted off his pants.
"Of course, son," Dutch said, setting the cigar in a small ashtray. "Let me call them over."
He stepped out of the tent and bellowed, "Arthur! Hosea! Get over here. Got somethin' important he wants to talk about!"
Camp stilled. Conversations dropped. Even Pearson froze with his ladle halfway to the pot. Arthur and Hosea exchanged glances across the camp before rising and heading toward Dutch's tent.
When they entered, Caleb gave a small cough, a bit sheepish at the sudden attention his request had stirred. "Didn't expect you to shout like that," he muttered.
Dutch gave a smirk. "Gotta keep things dramatic."
"What's this about, Dutch?" Hosea asked, his sharp eyes flicking between Dutch and Caleb.
Arthur crossed his arms. "Yeah, you don't usually holler like that unless there's trouble."
Dutch gestured to Caleb. "Our boy here has something to discuss with all of us."
Arthur folded his arms and leaned against the tent pole. Hosea pulled up a crate and sat down, adjusting his spectacles. "Alright, Caleb," Hosea said. "What's this all about?"
Caleb nodded once, then took a breath.
"Yesterday, Sheriff Malloy stopped me in Valentine," he began. "Offered me a temporary deputy badge. Said he's short handed until a replacement comes in, and I've built up enough goodwill with the town from bounties and helpin' folks out."
The tent went quiet.
Dutch's eyes narrowed slightly. Hosea blinked in surprise. Arthur furrowed his brow and let out a short breath through his nose.
"The Sheriff?" Dutch said slowly. "Offering you a badge?"
"Temporarily," Caleb emphasized. "Just until they find someone permanent. It ain't about being the law, it's about keepin' peace while the town's in a bind. Figured I'd talk to the three of you before saying yes or no."
Dutch stroked his chin. "That's… unexpected."
"Well, I'll be damned." Hosea rubbed his chin. "A lawman in Dutch van der Linde's gang. That's a new one."
Dutch held up a hand, silencing them. His eyes never left Caleb. "You trust this sheriff?"
"I do. I reckon it's because I never tied myself too close to the gang publicly," Caleb said. "Always came into town solo. He doesn't know about the gang. To him, I'm just a bounty hunter who's proven himself. Helps that I don't stir trouble also. Well except the brawl at the saloon one time of course."
Hosea was the first to speak after a pause. "It could be an opportunity. Information. Influence. If you're careful."
Dutch raised his hand to his chin, thoughtful. "It's a double edged blade, son. You wear that badge, some'll call you traitor. Others might call you hero. But everyone will watch you closer."
Arthur pushed off from the post and paced a bit. "You sure you can play both sides? 'Cause once you start wearin' that tin star, it's hard to shake."
"I ain't planning to wear it forever," Caleb said. "Just enough to help build trust, get in deep. Might even be useful if the gang ever needs inside info. You know I ain't a snitch. But I am someone they trust right now."
Dutch looked at him long, then smiled. It wasn't the wide, theatrical grin he gave the camp. It was smaller. Calculating.
"This could work."
Arthur blinked. "Dutch—"
"No, Arthur, think about it, son." Dutch's voice was low and calculating. "A man on the inside. Someone who could gain access to information about shipments, patrols, warrants, and any valuable information. Also, someone who can steer trouble and attention away from us."
...
Name: 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 Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 1)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 2)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 3)
- Poker (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)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
Money: 1196 dollars and 45. cents and 2 gold nuggets
Bank: 320 dollars, 4 gold bars, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets