Red Dead Redemption 2: From Gaming To Cowboy

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...

"I didn't know you and Strauss would be there, waiting for Arthur and John. I didn't know you were even in Keane's Saloon until I saw you both walk in. That's when I knew it was too late to risk a public warning. Keane was nearby, and there were other patrons. If I said the wrong thing, the whole town might've caught wind of it."

He looked to Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur equally, voice quiet but steady. "I made the call right then and there. I stayed, waited until things cleared up. I figured once the saloon was a bit empties, I'd tell everyone directly. Then we could plan without stirring panic."

Then Caleb let out a sigh and his tone become much lower. "Christ, Dutch, you think I'd risk the gang? After everything? Would you rather shoot half of the town or get out of that backdoor without any fuss?"

beat of silence. The camp's noises, the crackle of the fire, the sound of the horses snorts and neighs, suddenly felt loud.

Hosea exhaled. "He's got a point, Dutch. Saloons ain't the place for sensitive talk."

Arthur's jaw worked, but after a moment, he gave a nod. "Reckon he was tryin' to play it safe."

Dutch studied Caleb for a long moment, then sighed, rubbing his temple. "I understand your thinking, son," he said. "But next time, Caleb, you come back here straight if you hear anything like that. Don't worry about making sure it's true or not. Better safe than sorry."

"Of course Dutch. Understood," Caleb said with a small nod, relief threading through his veins that Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur believe him.

Dutch then stood up and stepped forward, placing both of his hand on Caleb's shoulder. The tension hadn't fully left Dutch's shoulders, but his tone was less sharp now.

"We ain't just playing checkers out here, son. We're balancing on a razor's edge, and the wind's picking up."

"I know," Caleb replied. "That's why I came back tonight, Dutch. I won't to make things straight and explain what happened back in town."

Dutch let out a sigh, release his hold on Caleb's shoulder, pinch the bridge of his nose before reaching for the cigar on his desk. "All right. You done good keeping your cover. And I appreciate your honesty. But no more secrets. We survive together, or we fall alone. You get wind of anything else, anything at all, you bring it straight back."

"I will," Caleb promised. "But other than that Dutch, I also want to told you that interrupting Cornwall makes him put me in his list."

"Now he should hate me as much as he hate you and the entire gang, Dutch. And he was this close in finding us, so I think it is time for us to move our camp. Fast. I'm sure he will sic the Pinkertons with his money even hard to search for us. They're already close, if they get a whiff of our camp..."

When Caleb's voice died down, the silence that followed was thunderous in its gravity.

The light from the lamp flickered across Dutch's face as Caleb's words settled over them. The usually charismatic leader looked older in that moment, the lines around his eyes deepening as the reality of their situation became undeniable.

Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur looked stricken, not with fear, but with the realization that they might've just been playing catch up this whole time. That they weren't just being hunted by the Pinkertons.

That Cornwall, powerful and now personally slighted, had eyes and ears of his own. And now, with money, resources, and a vendetta, he would start narrowing the noose.

"You're certain about this?" Dutch finally asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "Cornwall's put you on his list alongside us?"

Caleb nodded grimly. "He looked at me like I was something he needed to scrape off his boot. Twice. Men like that don't forget."

Hosea was the first to exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a sigh that seemed to carry a decade's worth of regret. "Damn it… we shouldn't have gone after that train in the Grizzlies."

He looked up, weariness swimming in his gaze. "Found the plan after clearing out those O'Driscolls holed up in that old mining camp. Thought it was clean. Looked clean. But I never even got around to selling those bonds we took yet. Not a single one. And now? Now the bastard who owns them is on the warpath hunting us."

Dutch's shoulders stiffened as Hosea's words sank in. His jaw clenched tightly for a moment. Caleb saw it, the flash of pride smarting from what almost sounded like blame.

Hosea didn't say it like he blame Dutch, but to those who listen especially Dutch felt like it was like that, because Dutch had been the one who pushed them to take the opportunity. Seize the plan. Strike before Cornwall knew what hit him.

Dutch's head turned to look at Hosea, his eyes flashing. "Are you saying this is my fault, old friend?" The words came out sharper than intended, and Caleb saw the immediate regret flash across Dutch's face before the mask slipped back into place.

Arthur stepped in before tensions could rise further. "Ain't nobody's fault but them O'Driscolls for leaving those plans lying around. What's done is done. Question is, what do we do now?"

Dutch closed his eyes briefly, then opened them, brushing aside the weight of guilt like dust from his coat. He stood up straighter, his voice firm and filled with righteous resolve. "You're right, Arthur. Recriminations won't keep us alive."

"We can't undo what's happened," Dutch continued his words, waving his hand. "No sense wallowing in it now. The job's done, and Cornwall's nose was always gonna catch our scent one way or another. The man's got bloodhounds and silver in his pockets."

He turned back toward Caleb, his tone softening just slightly. "But you're right, son. We can't sit here waiting for the storm. If Cornwall's this close and he's workin' with the damn Pinkertons already, then we've got to move."

He glanced around, gaze sweeping over the dimly lit camp where figures moved quietly, unaware of the hammer swinging above their heads.

"I've been thinking on it ever since the mess at Valentine this morning," Dutch added smoothly, as if this had been part of his long game all along. "Figured we couldn't stay here long after that mess. It's time we find ourselves someplace safer. More hidden."

Caleb said nothing. He saw through it, the subtle way Dutch tried to reframe things, make it seem like this had always been part of his master plan. It wasn't out of malice, it was just Dutch doing exactly as he had predicted.

Dutch needed to be the man with the vision. The man everyone followed. Caleb understood that. As long as the camp moved and they stayed one step ahead, he didn't care who took credit. What mattered was getting the gang to safety.

Dutch turned toward them. "Now, the question is where should we go?"

Arthur scratched at his stubbled chin. "Somewhere quieter, preferably not near a town. No railways, no stage routes."

Hosea added, "Someplace where the trees are thick, and the law don't come sniffin' around too easy. We've already overstayed our welcome out here long enough. We need to become more hidden."

Dutch nodded and then looked to Caleb. "You seem to be keeping a sharp eye out these days. You got any place in mind, Caleb?"

Caleb nodded thoughtfully. "There's a spot… down south of at the border near Lemoyne. Dewberry Creek. It's mostly dry, but it's secluded. Ain't a lot of folk pass through there. I passed it once on the way as I travel around from Lemoyne."

Arthur squinted. "Dewberry Creek? That place with dry riverbed and clusters of trees alongside the dry riverbed?"

"Yeah," Caleb replied. "It's open enough that we'll see anyone coming, and quiet enough that we won't draw much attention while we decide our next move."

He knew full well Dewberry Creek would be a dud. Because in his past life memories, Arthur and Charles had scouted it only to find it too exposed.

But suggesting it served two purposes, it made him to later recommend Clemens Point when they reach Dewberry Creek and found it not perfect, and it would give him an opportunity to encounter the German family and secure that gold bar.

Dutch looked at the three of them, then gave a long, thoughtful puff of his cigar before flicking the ash toward the fire. "All right. We'll check Dewberry Creek first. But if it don't work, we'll keep riding. I want eyes open and guns loaded. If there's even a sniff of Cornwall or Pinkertons on our tail, we ride again. Fast."

Arthur nodded. "I'll ride with Caleb and Charles in the morning. We'll scout it proper."

Dutch looked to Hosea. "Old friend get the wagons ready. Coordinate with Mr. Pearson and Mrs. Grimshaw in the morning and make sure everything's packed. But make sure not doing it to fast and urgent, no sense stirrin' panic before we have a place to go."

Hosea gave a grunt of agreement, rubbing his hands together against the fire's warmth.

After a few more minutes of quiet discussion, Dutch dismissed them with a wave of his hand. "Get some rest. Especially you two, Arthur, Caleb. Both of you and Charles ride at first light tomorrow." The meeting broke up, each man moving to prepare in his own way.

As Caleb lay in his bedroll later that night, the embers of the fire dimming into a soft red glow, he stared up at the stars. The vastness of the night sky always reminded him of how small they were.

No matter how hard Dutch talked, how loud he preached about freedom and future, the universe didn't care. And Cornwall sure as hell wasn't going to let them go quietly.

But Caleb wasn't afraid.

He'd played this game before. Knew the path ahead. He couldn't change everything. But he could tilt the scales. As for Dewberry Creek and Clements Point, it was more then just a place to scout and make as camp.

It was where the story began continue to enter the next chapter.

He closed his eyes, his mind settling into plans for the morning. With Arthur and Charles at his side, they could scout perfectly and safely. Rescue the family. Gain their goodwill. Maybe even get their hands on that gold bar, every bit counted now, especially with the Pinkertons breathing down their necks.

The next day at dawn, Caleb was shaken from sleep by a rough but familiar voice.

"Come on, sunshine," Arthur said, nudging his boot. "We ride soon. Get limber or whatever it is you do."

Caleb blinked up at him, then gave a slow nod. The sky above was still a dim gray, stars just beginning to fade into the lightening horizon. The air held that crisp, clean bite that only existed in the early morning hours.

Around them, the camp was still mostly asleep, only a few figures moving in the half darkness, quietly prepping wagons or walking toward the fire for coffee.

No time for his usual exercise, but Caleb pushed himself up and ran through a quick series of light stretches, shoulders rolled, legs bent, arms extended and flexed. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get the blood moving and the muscles warm.

His body had taken well to the routine since he arrived in this world, adaptable, strong, younger than he remembered feeling before.

Stretching done, he grabbed his gear. Gun belt first, buckled tight and slung low. Then the Lancaster Repeater went over one shoulder, the Pump Action Shotgun over the other. His satchel was already packed from the night before. Finally, his hat found its place atop his head.

He stepped out into the pale light and headed to the hitching post where he'd left Morgan the night before. As expected, Arthur and Charles were already there beside their horses, talking softly as they double-checked saddles and gear.

"Morning, Charles," Caleb greeted with a nod and a tired smile.

Charles glanced up, returning the smile with his usual calm. "Morning."

Caleb gave Morgan a soft pat, brushing his hand down the her neck before taking the brush from the saddlebag. A few gentle strokes to clear away dust, and then he reached into his coat and pulled out a slightly bruised apple he'd pocketed earlier. "There you go, girl," he murmured, holding it out. Morgan crunched it happily.

...

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 3)

- 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)

- Cooking (Lvl 2)

- Teaching (Lvl 1)

Money: 1463 dollars and 45 cents and 2 gold nuggets

Bank: 320 dollars, 4 gold bars, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets