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Dutch's jaw tightened. "Funny how that works, ain't it? My group got more than twenty. Arthur's got near a dozen. Charles too. And yet… you and John, just five or six." His voice grew colder. "Very… suspicious." The crackling fire seemed to hush under his words.
John stepped forward immediately. "Dutch, what the hell are you suggestin'? We can't choose how many men come at us—"
Dutch cut him off sharply with a raised hand.
"I am not talkin' about you, John," he said, eyes never leaving Caleb.
Hosea spoke next, voice soft but firm. "Dutch… they couldn't have known the numbers. None of us knew. We were all blindsided even though he knew there would be an ambush."
"Oh I know John wouldn't know." Dutch's tone hardened even more. "I know John wouldn't make any sort of deal behind our backs."
Mary-Beth stood up beside Caleb now, her hand lightly pressed against his back, offering silent support. Caleb's heartbeat thumped in his ears.
"Deal?" Caleb asked slowly. "With who?"
Dutch took a breath, cold, measured, and heavy with implication.
"The Pinkertons."
The words dropped like a stone into the fire.
Everyone froze. Tilly's eyes went wide. Karen stopped breathing. Sadie's hand quietly slid toward her holster. Arthur's jaw clenched hard enough to creak.
Caleb felt heat surge in his chest, not fear. Anger.
"What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded.
Dutch took another step. "You disappear from camp for long stretches. You go to Saint Denis without any good reason—"
"I told you and Hosea," Caleb snapped.
Dutch continued like he hadn't heard him. "And somehow, during a coordinated ambush, you and John get the smallest group? The easiest fight? And show up right on time to save everyone else?" He pointed accusingly. "You expect me to believe that's just luck?"
Caleb's temper flared hot. "Yes," he shot back. "Because that's exactly what it was."
Dutch scoffed. "You've been gone too much. You know things you shouldn't. You always… conveniently… show up in the nick of time." His voice lowered, darker now. "Tell me, Caleb. What exactly did you do in Saint Denis? Talk to Bronte and made a deal? Meet with Milton and the Pinkertons? Who paid you to—"
"Enough." Hosea's voice cracked like a whip.
Dutch turned sharply toward him.
Hosea looked at Dutch and then Caleb, eyes furious but steady. "There is not a shred of proof for anything you're saying. Not a single reason to accuse the boy of betraying us."
Dutch's voice nearly growled. "You're blind, Hosea."
"And you," Hosea shot back, "are paranoid."
The fire popped loudly.
Dutch's eyes flicked back to Caleb. "Then explain yourself. Explain the ambush. Explain why someone who's barely been with us for couple of months somehow knows more than even I do—"
Caleb exploded.
"I went to Saint Denis FOR THE GANG!" he shouted, stepping forward despite Mary-Beth's desperate grip on his sleeve. "For this FAMILY! And I asked permission from you and Hosea both! You told me to look into Bronte! You told me to gather information!"
His voice shook with fury. The entire camp stared, breath frozen.
"And NOW you're accusing me of betraying everyone?" Caleb continued, fists trembling. "What evidence do you have? What single thing have I done that ever hurt this gang since you invited me to join?"
Dutch didn't answer.
Not immediately.
His jaw worked. His eyes flickered, not with certainty, but doubt, fear, and something else darker. The kind of fear a leader has when control slips between his fingers.
Caleb pressed on, louder now, voice cracking. "You're angry the plan failed. You're angry your big scheme fell apart. But don't pin that on me. Don't pin your mistakes on the one person who tries to keep us all stay together and safe!"
A murmur rippled through the camp.
Arthur stepped forward.
Slowly. Calmly. Voice low.
"Dutch… he's right."
Dutch's head whipped toward him. "Arthur—"
"No," Arthur cut him off with a rare harshness. "You're blamin' the wrong man. Caleb saved us. Saved me. Saved John. Saves Everyone. Even saved YOU." His eyes hardened. "You're lettin' anger and pride cloud your damn judgement."
Silence.
Only the rushing river filled the void as Dutch stared at his oldest friend.
Hosea exhaled, defeated but relieved. "Dutch… please. Enough of this."
Dutch's shoulders rose and fell once, he did not reply.
He did not blink.
He looked at Caleb as though calculating whether he was an asset… or a threat.
Mary-Beth stepped in front of Caleb then, her voice sharp with sudden courage.
"Dutch… stop this," she said. "He hasn't done anything wrong. If you can't see that, then you're not looking at him, you're looking at your fears."
A few murmurs of agreement rose.
But Dutch's gaze shifted to her only briefly before returning to Caleb.
And that, more than anything, showed the truth.
He wasn't listening.
He was spiraling.
Searching for someone to blame.
And Caleb, smart, resourceful, independent Caleb, was the easiest target in reach.
Caleb's voice lowered. "If you really think I'm capable of selling this family out… then you've gone further down the wrong path than any of us realized."
"Careful," Dutch whispered.
"That's not a threat," Caleb said. "It's the truth."
The two men stared at each other across the fire, the entire camp holding its breath.
Hosea in the end decide to step between Caleb and Dutch, placing himself physically between them.
"That's enough," he said softly, firmly. "We've all had a long day. Tired bodies make paranoid minds. We can talk about this tomorrow, when we aren't half broken from travel and work."
Dutch didn't move at first.
Then his jaw twitched, and he exhaled slowly.
"…Very well."
But his eyes said something else as he walked away.
Something darker.
Caleb felt it.
Arthur saw it.
Hosea definitely saw it.
Dutch had not let this go.
Not even close.
Dutch walked away slowly, back toward the riverbank where he'd spent most of the day staring off into nothing.
The camp exhaled unevenly.
But no one relaxed.
Not really.
Mary-Beth wrapped her arms around Caleb's arm, leaning into him as if grounding both of them. Mary-Beth then said softly. "Come on," she whispered, voice shaking with worry. "Let's… let's sit down."
Caleb let her guide him back toward the log, his chest still heaving from the confrontation.
Karen stared at Dutch in barely concealed disbelief. Sadie muttered something that sounded like "crazy bastard." Lenny and Sean exchanged tense looks from the perimeter. Charles kept his hand on his knife, eyes scanning Dutch's retreating back.
Arthur sat back down heavily, rubbing his forehead. Sadie muttered curses under her breath. John kicked a stone into the fire. Hosea stood watching Dutch's retreating figure with a pain no one could name.
Javier slowly resumed his guitar, softly and hesitantly.
People tried to pretend the moment hadn't happened.
But the peace was cracked.
Meanhwile, Caleb sat down slowly, the log creaking under his weight. His breath still came in uneven pulls, the adrenaline from shouting in Dutch's face refusing to leave his bloodstream.
The flames in front of him crackled softly, licking upward into the night air as though trying to pull the tension from the earth itself. But it didn't work. Not tonight. Not after what had just happened.
Caleb stared hard at the fire, his jaw clenched tight enough that his teeth ached. Dutch's accusations rang again through his skull like echoes that refused to fade.
Pinkertons.
A deal.
Suspicion.
It was absurd. Insulting. Infuriating.
Mary-Beth knelt beside him, worry etched plainly across her face even in the flickering firelight. She touched his arm gently.
"Let me get you some water," she whispered, voice trembling just a bit. "You look… you look like you're burning up."
He gave a stiff nod. She hesitated, clearly torn about leaving him alone even for a moment, then finally stood and walked toward Pearson's wagon to fetch a cup.
The moment she left, footsteps approached.
Sadie, Charles, and John came toward him together, the strangest trio to walk in sync, but united by the same quiet fury at what had just taken place.
Sadie crossed her arms, looking him over. "How you holdin' up?" she asked, her voice blunt but not unkind.
Caleb lifted his eyes to them and forced a small smile. "I'm okay," he said. "Just… settling myself. Didn't expect Dutch to say something like that to my face after everything I've done to protect this gang."
John let out a heavy sigh and dropped down on the log beside him. "Yeah, well… none of us expected that," he muttered. "I was right there with you during that ambush. I know damn well you didn't know nothin' about their numbers. Hell, you saved my hide more'n once today. And when we rescued the others and saw how many Pinkertons they faced, five or six on our side looks pretty damn small by comparison."
Charles nodded. "Dutch is gettin' worse," he said quietly. "Back at that lake before we hit Roanoke Valley… I saw him talking to himself. Nodding at nothing. He was… somewhere else entirely."
Sadie snorted sharply. "And why the hell should we keep followin' a paranoid fool who's clearly lost his damn mind? Every one of us knows he ain't been right for some time."
Caleb exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Because everyone here looks up to Dutch," he said softly. "To them, he's a father, a brother, a leader. Maybe you, me, and Charles don't see him like that—we haven't been with him long enough. But the others… they've stayed with him for years. He saved them. Took them in when nobody else would. Dutch used to be a good man."
Sadie lifted one eyebrow. "He used to be," she repeated. "But he ain't anymore. And if the rest of 'em can't see that, then they're blind. Sentimental. And sentiment doesn't keep a family alive. It gets it killed."
Caleb opened his mouth to answer, but Mary-Beth returned just then, cup of water in hand. She slowed when she saw the group gathered around him.
"Oh," she breathed, surprised. "I… didn't expect all of you here."
But she quickly refocused and handed the cup to Caleb, who took it gratefully and drank. She sat on the other side of him, close enough that her shoulder brushed his.
"What were you all discussing?" she asked gently.
"Dutch," Caleb answered simply.
Mary-Beth frowned. "Let's not talk about him right now," she whispered. "It'll only make you angrier. Let yourself calm down first."
Sadie huffed. "Caleb wasn't the one who needed calm, Dutch was. If anybody should be worried about anger, it's that lunatic, not him."
"Sadie," Charles warned quietly.
But Sadie didn't back down. She never did.
Mary-Beth turned her gaze to Caleb, concern shining bright. "What are you all thinking about doing?" she asked. "You need to focus on the gang. Not on arguing with Dutch."
Caleb nodded slowly. "You're right," he said with a sigh. "We need our focus on survival. On keeping the gang safe. That means… we need to keep an eye on Dutch. Make sure he doesn't leave camp alone." He hesitated. "Whatever's going on in his head… if he goes wandering, he might get information or start planning something that'll drag us straight down to hell."
Sadie muttered, "We're halfway there as is."
John rubbed his forehead. "We'll keep eyes on him," he said. "Quietly. Carefully. But we'll do it."
Charles nodded. "We don't confront him. Not yet. We just… watch."
Mary-Beth rested her hand lightly on Caleb's knee. "You're not alone," she murmured, soft enough that only he could hear. "I'm here."
He gave her a faint, grateful smile.
The fire crackled quietly.
Mary-Beth leaned into Caleb just a little, a gentle point of grounding in the midst of unraveling nerves. Caleb let himself rest against her for a moment, closing his eyes, listening to the sound of the camp around him, the murmurs of uneasy voices, the creak of shifting wagons, the soft plucking of Javier's guitar battling the tension in the air.
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 7/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 7/10
- Luck: 8/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 4)
- Rifle (Lvl 4)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 4)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 3)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 4)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 4)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 3)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 3)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 3)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 2)
- Crafting (Lvl 3)
- Persuasion (Lvl 3)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 4)
- Teaching (Lvl 2)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 10x10x10)
- Acting (Lvl 4)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
Money: 3,655 dollars and 10 cents
Inventory: 104,669 dollars and 72 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 64 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, & 1 Ruby
Bank: -