Red Dead Redemption 2: From Gaming To Cowboy

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Bill's jaw worked, grunted, not yet convinced. "Truth is," Caleb continued, "I actually had quite a good impression of you when we first met. That brawl at Valentine's? I helped all of you and saw how tough and brave you were taking on 3 men by yourself. That thing stuck with me."

Bill chuckled. Just once. A low grunt of a laugh, rough like a boulder rolling downhill. He turned back to the water and rubbed his face dry with a dirty sleeve. "Yeah, I remember that. You held your own alright."

Caleb smiled, encouraged and seized the opening. "That meant something to me. We made a good team then. I ain't your enemy, Bill. Hell, I'd rather have you watching my back than most in a brawl."

"Yeah, well," Bill muttered, still not looking at him, "don't get ahead of yourself. That don't mean I'm offering friendship bracelets."

"I get that," Caleb said, nodding. "But I didn't ask for a bracelet. Just a handshake. And maybe a chance to start over."

Bill finally turned fully toward him, arms crossed, sizing Caleb up like a gun he was thinking about buying.

"Y'got your own tent," he said gruffly.

"That wasn't my call," Caleb answered honestly. "Dutch gave me that. I was surprised myself."

Bill huffed. "Of course Dutch did. You're his new golden boy, huh?"

Caleb stiffened for just a second but didn't let it show. "I'm just trying to pull my weight. Like everyone else."

Bill snorted. "You talk real pretty for a fella who shoots just as good."

Caleb smirked. "Comes with the charm."

That got a rough chuckle out of Bill. "Charm? You?"

"Hey, I'm working on it."

Bill shook his head, but some of the tension had eased. "Whatever. Just don't expect me to start singin' your praises."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Caleb said, grinning.

Bill then finally extended his meaty hand. Caleb seeing that clasped it, firm and respectful.

"Don't screw me over," Bill warned.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Bill grunted, then jerked his chin toward Pearson's stew pot. "You eaten yet? Pearson's slop ain't great, but it's hot."

Caleb took the olive branch for what it was. "Lead the way."

As they walked toward the fire, Caleb caught movement in his peripheral vision.

Hosea Matthews leaned against a tree, smoking a cigarette, his sharp eyes watching the exchange with quiet amusement. When Caleb met his gaze, Hosea gave a small, approving nod before pushing off and walking away.

Well, that's something.

Hosea wasn't one to hand out praise lightly. If he'd noticed Caleb mending fences with Bill, it meant he saw value in it.

Meanwhile… Dutch sat in his tent, unlit lantern at his side, cigar ash cold in his hand.

Inside, the familiar walls of authority were cracking. He replayed what he'd just done, snapping at Molly, pushing her away with sharp words.

He'd watched Caleb and Mary‑Beth bonding, something he couldn't deny stung. The anger of possession mixed with the rational voice telling him Caleb was irreplaceable. He hated losing control.

Molly's voice echoed in his head, 'I want to help you! But you won't let me! You won't speak to me.' That memory burned. He didn't know what to do with it, but he knew one thing, this feud, internal and external, could split his mind apart but he didn't know if, he liked this state more or not.

Back on Caleb, the morning sun pushed through the canvas of the mess tent as Caleb and Bill sat across from each other, bowls of stewing meat and hard biscuits between them.

Silence stretched at first, tense and uncomfortable, filled with unspoken history. Caleb tucked into his breakfast, listening to the murmurs of other gang members stirring around the campsite. Caleb stirred the murky broth with his spoon, searching for something, anything, to break the tension. Then his Past Life Memory skill hit him.

Bill was in the army. Confederate. A sniper, even at one point.

With that, Caleb cleared his throat. "So… I heard from others that you served in the army before, Bill?"

Bill's spoon froze halfway to his mouth. Then, he lowered it slowly, fixing Caleb with a guarded stare, one eyebrow raised. "Yeah? What of it?"

Caleb shifted, took another bite of stew, playing it casual while his mind raced for the right words. "Nothing. Just... I wanted to know about your story, your experiences when you were in the army. I'm sure a lot of what you're doing now… came from there."

Bill's surprise trembled in the corners of his eyes. No one had ever asked about his past before, not like this. Usually, he was the one spouting off war stories to earn respect. Some mocked him, others gave respect, but he'd never been approached with genuine curiosity. He leaned forward, voice gravel rough but low, "You really wanna hear about that, Thorne?" Bill asked, suspicion creeping into his tone.

Caleb nodded, spoon caught halfway to his mouth. "Yeah. Why? It's not a secret, is it?"

Bill's chest puffed out slightly as he let out a low chuckle, then exhaled sharply. "Course not." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "But if I'm gonna tell it, you better not regret askin' or call it boring. Don't hold me to say I didn't warn you."

Caleb smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."

And so, Bill talked.

"I joined the Confederate Army when I was seventeen. 15th Infantry, right under Braxton Bragg's command. Took to the rifle like I was born with it. Later, they moved me into sniper work, didn't speak. Held position for hours, days, weeks sometimes. Took out sentries. Helped cover retreats."

His voice softened, almost distant. "There was fighting… hell of a fight. On the plains, during the wars with the Native tribes. I saw things no man should. Men… women… children caught in raids. Some, I killed in the field. Heard the screams at night when you're alone in a rifle blind. Nasty business."

Then Bill's tone turned softer as he spoke of explosives, "We had those old kegs of powder. I used 'em in a few chain destroy missions. Blew up a building once. Scared a hell of a lotta men."

"You ever set a fuse too short?" Caleb asked, genuinely curious.

Bill barked a laugh. "Once. Nearly blew my damn hand off. Learned quick after that."

Caleb then leaned closer, his voice was respectful. He asked, "Did it help you feel… justified? Like you were fighting for something?"

Bill looked at him for a moment and shrugged. "War's not about right and wrong. It's about survival, hanging onto yourself in the chaos. Blowing up that building felt… like giving back. But I don't exactly dream 'bout it when I close my eyes."

Caleb, listening, realized the man was recounting his life, not boasting, heavy with regret and burden. He asked quiet follow up questions, "What drove you to do it? What about the dishonorable discharge to had in the army that the others told me about?"

Bill's gaze narrowed. "I snapped," he admitted. "A superior of mine in my unit was stealing my rations, I didn't know at first. But then rumors of him stealing not just from me but others spread and I didn't believe it at first, but when I saw him stealing mine I snapped. I wouldn't care about others, but he was stealing mine so I went and tried to kill him. But it failed. They caught me. Dishonorable discharge for attempt. Tried to kill a superior. Deviancy, it's what they wrote down."

Caleb swallowed, heart pounding. "And after?"

"I was out. No future there for me. Then Dutch and Hosea found me, well it was more that I found them. I tried to rob 'em. Needed food money. They humored me, let me join instead. I owe that to 'em."

As Bill finished, the sun had climbed high enough to justify the heat rolling off the camp floor.

They'd sat and talked for the better part of the morning. When Bill finally paused, he looked at Caleb. "Thanks for listening, Caleb. Not many folks that ain't tellin' me how sorry I am, or sayin' I'm a fool. You… you listened."

Caleb shook his head. "I'm not here to judge. And, I appreciate you sharing it. Learned a lot."

Bill eyed him, as if trying to figure out if Caleb was mocking him. When he found no deceit, he grunted. "Yeah, well… maybe we'll have a drink sometime. Swap more stories."

It was as close to friendship as Bill Williamson got.

Caleb smiled. "I'd like that."

Bill stood, cracked his knuckles. "Alright then. I gotta go do something now." With a curt nod, he headed back toward the stew kettle, though his shoulders looked lighter than they had before.

Caleb nodded his head, thinking that this was a big step in mending his rift with Bill, and he could see now that the man just wanted to be listened to, to be treated like a normal man, not some explosive brute to be handled like unstable dynamite.

Still, Caleb also understood why many in the gang avoided Bill, his short fuse, his drinking, and the tendency to stir up trouble when the bottle took hold of him. But under all that bark and gristle, Caleb now saw the human part, the soldier, the survivor.

As Bill walked away, shoulders squared but a touch lighter, Caleb's focus was broken by a warm hand on his shoulder. He turned his head in surprise to find Hosea Matthews standing beside him.

"I see what you're trying to do, Caleb," Hosea said, voice low and approving. "I appreciate what you were doing. Trying to keep the peace in camp by mending your rift with Bill, even though he was the one who started it. He's a buffoon and a fool with a temper, but… in the end, he's still part of this family."

Hosea's gaze softened. "And even though you just joined us a month or two ago, you've contributed more than many of the members here."

Caleb smiled at the compliment and gave a nod of gratitude. "It's what I should do, Hosea. All of you have accepted me kindly and treated me with more decency than I expected. Considering I was a stranger and even if Arthur knew me, I was just a new face. I thought, after what happened at Blackwater, the mood around camp would be... colder. Hostile, even. But it wasn't. So this is my way of saying thank you."

Hosea's smile grew just a little more genuine. "Good lad," he said, clapping Caleb once more on the shoulder. "Keep that heart of yours steady. It'll do you good."

With that, Hosea wandered off, likely to find his next chess opponent or maybe sneak a nap under a tree. Caleb stood there a moment, basking in the warmth of that short exchange, before collecting his bowl and spoon and heading toward Pearson's wagon.

As he passed the chuck station, Pearson, covered in sweat and flour dust, leaned over a half-cleaned cutting board and called out, "Oi, Caleb!"

Caleb turned. "Yeah?"

"You got a minute?". Pearson asked, wiping his hands on a stained rag.

Caleb held up the bowl and spoon. "Was just putting these away."

"Good," Pearson said, walking around the side of the wagon and motioning him closer. "Listen, I hate to ask again, but we're runnin' low on meat. If you've got the time, could you head out and hunt somethin'? Deer or rabbit, either one or both if you're feeling lucky."

Caleb gave a casual salute. "No problem. I'll head out right after this."

Pearson exhaled with relief. "Appreciate it. Weather's warming up, and the meat won't keep as long as it used to. Better to stock up before we're scrounging again."

Caleb deposited his bowl and spoon into the tin wash basin at the side of the wagon, then walked over to his tent to gather his gear. He grabbed his bow, a quiver of arrows, and his knife. He also slung his Lancaster repeater over his back, just in case larger game wandered into range.

...

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)

- Germanic Language Proficiency (Lvl MAX)

- Inventory System (Permanent - 5x5x5)

Money: 463 dollars and 45 cents

Inventory: 1000 dollars, 2 gold nuggets, and 1 gold bar

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