If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Karen and Tilly just dissolved into fits of laughter, highly entertained by her embarrassment. Mary-Beth turned back to Caleb, still blushing deeply, and tried to recover her dignity. She looked up at him, her dark eyes scanning his face for any signs of injury or exhaustion. "Are you alright? Was the business in the city... difficult?" she asked softly, knowing full well that 'business' for Caleb usually involved a terrifying amount of danger.
Caleb smiled, a reassuring, warm expression that instantly eased the worry lining her beautiful features. And he says that he is doing well. "I'm perfectly fine, sweetheart. The business in Saint Denis is entirely concluded. The city is... secure for him and then now."
He didn't want to burden her with the bloody details of Angelo Bronte's deposition or the massive mafia war just yet. Not here in the kitchen. He shifted the conversation, turning the focus back to the safe, prosperous life they were building. "How about you? How is it doing with everyone back here in the homestead?"
Mary-Beth beamed, her pride evident as she detailed the domestic successes.
"It's been so busy, Caleb," Mary-Beth said enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of legitimate business management. "Lenny and Sean always come back at the end of their shifts and tell me how it goes in the restaurant. They say the customers are always steady. We've got drovers, lawmen, and townsfolk coming in every single day for the lunch rush."
She wiped her hands on a clean towel, stepping closer to him. "And also I have heard Jasper talks about how the ingredients are either finished or almost finished by the time the sun sets. We're going through sides of beef and sacks of potatoes faster than we can order them! So it's definitely going very, very well."
Caleb nodded his head, genuinely impressed by her administrative skills. He had provided the capital and the protection, but Mary-Beth, along with Lenny and Sean, had turned the restaurant into a highly efficient, thriving enterprise. He thanked her for the excellent news.
"You've done an incredible job holding the fort for me, Mary-Beth," Caleb praised her, his voice full of profound admiration. "I knew I left it in the right hands."
Before then, his tone shifted slightly, a spark of immense excitement bleeding into his calm demeanor.
"Have you finished cooking Mary-Beth? If you are," Caleb continued, glancing toward the bubbling pots, "I would like to tell you some important news. Very important news. Just for you."
Mary-Beth looked at the serious, yet incredibly excited look in his eyes. Her heart did a little flutter. She immediately nodded her head, untying the strings of her flour dusted apron.
"We can talk now, if you want, the stews were just simmering and the bread was cooling." she said eagerly, tossing her apron onto a nearby chair.
Caleb nodded his head, taking her small hand in his. "Let's talk in our room on the second floor. It's a bit too crowded in here."
And so they prepared to go there, but before leaving, Mary-Beth turned back to her two co chefs. With a sudden, highly amusing shift in her demeanor, she left some strict instructions to Karen and Tilly.
"Karen, make sure you don't let the stew boil over, turn the heat down in five minutes," Mary-Beth ordered, pointing a stern finger. "And Tilly, keep an eye on the bread, don't let it get hard. And if Pearson comes out of his room looking for a snack, you hit him with a broom, understand? His stomach needs rest."
Karen and Tilly instantly snapped to attention, their teasing completely replaced by mock military discipline. They saluted her dramatically, saying, "Yes, yes, yes!" to her in perfect unison, acting exactly like she was the new, terrifying Miss Grimshaw of the camp.
Caleb laughed out loud at the display, squeezing Mary-Beth's hand. With the kitchen safely under the command of her co chefs, Caleb led Mary-Beth out into the hallway and up the wooden stairs toward their private room on the second floor.
The wooden stairs of the homestead creaked softly beneath their feet as Caleb and Mary-Beth ascended to the second floor, leaving the cheerful, chaotic noise of the kitchen far behind them.
The afternoon sun poured through the hallway windows, casting long, golden rectangles of light across the floorboards. Caleb kept his hand wrapped gently around hers, his thumb tracing the soft knuckles that were still lightly dusted with white baking flour.
Caleb and Mary-Beth entered into their private room at the end of the hall. It was a cozy, rustic space, smelling faintly of the lavender water she used and the rich leather of his saddlebags. After stepping inside and closing the heavy oak door securely behind them, the atmosphere immediately shifted, enclosing them in a bubble of absolute, undisturbed intimacy.
Caleb turned to her, his towering frame casting a protective shadow, and told Mary-Beth to take a seat on the edge of the large, quilt covered bed.
Mary-Beth blinked, her dark eyes flashing with a sudden, mild apprehension. The serious, almost formal tone of his request caught her slightly off guard. She smoothed down the front of her skirt, wiping the last remnants of flour onto her apron that she had left downstairs, to which she did exactly as he asked, perching herself on the edge of the mattress.
She looked up at him, her hands clasping together in her lap, and then asked him what he wanted to say that made him tell her to take a seat. "Caleb? Is everything alright? You're acting so mysterious all of a sudden. Has something happened in the city?"
Caleb smiled, a warm, brilliant expression that reached all the way to his piercing blue eyes, instantly melting the anxiety radiating from her. He stepped closer, removing his wide brimmed Vaquero hat and tossing it onto a nearby wooden chair.
He reassured her before saying that it's not bad news, but incredibly good news, so she doesn't have to be worried in the slightest. "Breathe, sweetheart. There is absolutely nothing to worry about," Caleb murmured, his voice a soothing, hypnotic baritone. "And I told you to take a seat simply so that you are much more comfortable. What I have to tell you is... quite a lot to take in all at once."
Mary-Beth nodded her head at that, her shoulders dropping as the tension left her body, though her curiosity was now burning brighter than ever. The intense, visionary gleam in his eyes told her that whatever he was about to say was going to change their lives. She leaned forward slightly, her heart fluttering against her ribs, before urging Caleb to immediately tell her what he wanted to say.
"Don't keep me in suspense, Caleb Thorne," she teased gently, though her breath hitched slightly. "You know I have an overactive imagination. Tell me."
Caleb took a deep breath, looking down at the beautiful, intelligent woman who had stood by him through the dust and the blood of their outlaw days.
And Caleb goes to tell her the grand design. "The reason I came back here today, riding all the way from the coast... is to bring you to Saint Denis. I want you to pack your things, Mary-Beth. I want you to move there with me, to live with me permanently at my residence there."
Hearing that, Mary-Beth was utterly silent for a long, heavy moment. She was completely surprised by what he said. The sheer magnitude of the invitation hung in the quiet air of the bedroom.
She had always known he was building a life out there, establishing legitimate businesses and securing their future, but to formally leave the safety of the homestead, to leave the only family she had known in the Van der Linde gang and step into the high society epicenter of the South, was a staggering leap.
Her mind raced, processing the implications. Saint Denis wasn't just a town like Valentine, it was a sprawling metropolis of cobblestone, smoke, immense wealth, and terrifying predators.
Before then, after fully processing what Caleb said, the practical, survivalist instincts she had honed on the run kicked in. She looked up at him, her brow furrowed with deep, genuine concern. She asked him if it was truly safe for her to move there.
"Caleb, I... I would love nothing more than to be with you," Mary-Beth started, her voice trembling slightly. "But Saint Denis? Will I not become a massive distraction to your responsibilities there? You have so much on your plate with the investments and the operations."
She stood up abruptly, the anxiety returning as the reality of his underworld connections rushed to the forefront of her mind. "And what about Angelo Bronte? You told me about him. The mafia boss who controls the city. What if he finds out about me? What if he knows I am the one thing you care about, and he decides to use me as a hostage? He could force you to do terrible things in exchange for my safety, Caleb. I couldn't bear it if my presence there put a knife to your throat."
Caleb's expression softened with profound affection. He loved that even when offered a life of unparalleled luxury, her first instinct was to protect him.
Caleb shook his head gently. He stepped forward and went to sit beside her on the edge of the bed, reaching out to envelop her small, trembling hands within his own strong, calloused grip.
He rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles, grounding her in his absolute, unshakeable confidence. "You could never be a distraction, Mary-Beth. You are my anchor. You are the reason I am building this empire in the first place. You will have the finest security, the safest walls, and a life you have only ever written about in your stories."
He paused, his blue eyes locking onto hers, preparing to drop the first bombshell. "And as for Angelo Bronte... you do not need to fear him. He wouldn't be a problem anymore, sweetheart."
Mary-Beth blinked, confused. "What do you mean? Did you pay him off? Did you make a deal with him?"
"No," Caleb stated flatly, his voice devoid of any warmth or hesitation. "Because I have killed the man."
Hearing that, Mary-Beth was even more surprised. Her eyes went wide, and the color drained slightly from her cheeks. That Bronte was killed by Caleb was a revelation of apocalyptic proportions for the criminal underworld.
Angelo Bronte was a legend, a boogeyman who held the entire state of Lemoyne in a terrifying grip. To hear that he was simply dead by Caleb's hand was almost incomprehensible.
She gripped his hands back, her nails digging slightly into his skin. She asked him, her voice a horrified whisper, "Caleb! My god... why? Did he attack you? And isn't it much more dangerous for us to move there now? If you have killed Bronte, his men will be hunting you! The entire mafia will want your head! The city must be a warzone!"
Caleb squeezed her hands, letting out a low, incredibly calm chuckle that completely contrasted with her rising panic.
"There is no warzone, Mary-Beth. There are no assassins looking for my head," Caleb explained, his tone smooth, methodical, and chillingly competent. "Because through sheer luck, meticulous planning, and a great deal of high level persuasion, I didn't just kill a mob boss in an alleyway and run. I dismantled his entire organization from the inside out."
Caleb leaned closer, the terrifying aura of the apex predator bleeding through the facade of the romantic outlaw. "I positioned myself perfectly. I made his men hate him. I made his capos loyal to me. And when the time was right, I took the throne. I have become the new Don of the family, Mary-Beth. I am replacing Bronte as the absolute, undisputed ruler of Saint Denis."
Mary-Beth was even more profoundly, fundamentally surprised when she heard that. The shock was the one that made her let out a loud, highly audible gasp, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.
While gripping his hand tightly, she stared at him as if she were looking at a mythological god who had just descended from the heavens. Saying to him with a bit of a stutter, her mind entirely failing to process the astronomical leap in his status. "Y-you... You are the Don? The head of the mafia?"
Caleb nodded slowly, an arrogant, incredibly handsome smirk touching the corners of his lips. "I am."
"But... how?" she breathed, shaking her head in sheer disbelief. "How is it even possible for you to achieve such things in such a short amount of time? Caleb, you rode into that city as a bounty hunter!"
She looked deep into his eyes, searching for any hint of a joke, any sign that he was spinning a tall tale to impress her. She would have thought of it as a complete, absolute lie if it were anyone else in the world who said it. If Dutch or Arthur had walked in claiming they took over the mafia, she would have laughed in their faces.
But since it was him, and knowing the impossible things he had already achieved, the fortune he had amassed, the businesses he had launched out of thin air, the supernatural skill with which he handled a revolver, she was inclined to trust him more than not to trust him on this. Caleb Thorne did not make empty boasts. He altered reality to fit his will.
Caleb responded, his voice carrying the philosophical weight of a man who played chess with the universe, "The methods om how I achieve it is not important, sweetheart," Caleb said softly, brushing a stray tear of shock from her cheek. "What matters now is that everything has been going exactly according to how I planned it. From the moment I stepped off my horse in that smog choked city, I saw the cracks in Bronte's armor. I knew I could take it from him."
Caleb shrugged slightly, a gesture of supreme, untouchable confidence. "Even if the path deviated, and it did, there were ambushes, betrayals, and complications, I have adapted to it flawlessly to reach my current position. I own the docks. I own the gambling halls. I own the police chief. The city is mine, Mary-Beth. And I want to share it with you."
Mary-Beth, at this time, simply couldn't sit still any longer. The adrenaline, the shock, and the sheer, overwhelming magnitude of the revelation forced her to move. She stood up from the bed and walked back and forth across the small room, the wooden floorboards creaking softly beneath her boots.
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Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 8/10
- Agility: 8/10
- Perception: 9/10
- Stamina: 8/10
- Charm: 8/10
- Luck: 9/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl MAX)
- Rifle (Lvl MAX)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl MAX)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl MAX)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl MAX)
- Sneaking (Lvl MAX)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl MAX)
- Poker (Lvl MAX)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl MAX)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Dead Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Bow (Lvl MAX)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl MAX)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl MAX)
- Crafting (Lvl MAX)
- Persuasion (Lvl MAX)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl MAX)
- Teaching (Lvl MAX)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 100x100x100)
- Acting (Lvl MAX)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Business (Lvl MAX)
- Leadership (Lvl MAX)
Money: 3,322 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 286,492 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 74 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, 1 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, 1 Braithwaites Land Deed, 1 Broken Pirate Sword, 1 Milton's Safety Deposit Key, 1 Senator Pendleton Sealed Envelope, Proof Of Marlin-Thorne Firearms Co., 10 Dynamites, 1 LeMat, 1 M1899, 1 Carcano, 1 Ownership deed of Doyle's Tavern, 3 Diamonds, & Important Documents & Deeds Of Cornwall
Bank: -