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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Caleb, who was sitting on the edge of the bed polishing the silver inlay of his M-1911 pistol, chuckled softly. "Bring the sapphire silk, and the emerald velvet. You could wear a burlap sack, sweetheart, and you would still outshine every woman in New York high society." Mary-Beth blushed, throwing a rolled up pair of woolen stockings at his head, which he easily caught with a grin.
"Flatterer," she teased. She turned her attention to a smaller, reinforced leather satchel. She was meticulously packing it with a small mountain of blank journals, expensive fountain pens, and several thick novels. "I need to make sure I have enough writing supplies. Several days on a train... I'll go mad if I don't have my stories to keep me occupied."
"And I will need these," Caleb said, setting his pistol aside and placing a stack of heavy, leather bound corporate portfolios into his own trunk. He was bringing the patents for the Thorne Cycle and the Vanguard rifles. He wanted to be prepared for the business meetings, but he was acutely aware of his promise to her. "I have the patents. But once the meetings are done, the portfolios get locked away. The rest of the trip is entirely ours."
Mary-Beth smiled warmly, walking over and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "I'm holding you to that, Mr. Thorne."
Amidst the packing and the corporate planning, Caleb took the time to ensure the family he had built was completely cared for.
Later that afternoon, a specialized transport wagon arrived at the Garden District mansion. When the heavy wooden doors at the back of the wagon were opened, a familiar, joyous bark echoed across the courtyard.
Caleb had sent his men to the old homestead in Valentine to retrieve Cain, the stray dog that had adopted the gang back at Clemens Point.
Little Jack Marston had been playing on the lawn when the wagon arrived. When he saw the scruffy, energetic dog jump down onto the grass, the boy's eyes went wide.
"Cain!" Jack screamed in pure delight, dropping his wooden toys and running across the lawn.
The reunion was incredibly warm and heartwarming. Cain let out a series of excited yips, his tail wagging so hard his entire body shook. He knocked Jack over onto the soft grass, enthusiastically licking the boy's face while Jack giggled uncontrollably, wrapping his small arms tightly around the dog's neck.
Caleb stood on the porch, watching the scene with a soft, satisfied smile. John and Abigail stepped out beside him, their faces reflecting a profound, quiet gratitude. The scene reinforced Caleb's deepest desire, to give Jack and the rest of the gang a more stable, happier, and normal life than they would have ever known running from the law.
The next morning, Caleb decided he needed to tie off one final, highly personal loose end before he left for New York.
He took the private train north, making a one day trip back to Valentine.
The muddy, bustling livestock town hadn't changed much, but as Caleb walked down the main street, he could feel the eyes of the townsfolk on him. When he pushed through the swinging doors of the upscale restaurant he had secretly purchased and renovated months ago, the lunchtime crowd went entirely silent.
Jasper, the former bartender who had been acting as the manager and public face of the establishment, nearly dropped a tray of clean glasses when he saw Caleb standing in the doorway.
"Caleb!" Jasper gasped, quickly wiping his hands on his apron and rushing out from behind the mahogany bar.
Caleb smiled warmly, shaking the man's hand. He spent the next hour sitting with Jasper and the rest of the kitchen staff in the back room.
Jasper was genuinely, profoundly surprised by how incredibly far Caleb's position had risen since the last time they met. The stories about Caleb's massive businesses, his staggering wealth, his political influence, and the terrifying power of his syndicate had already reached Valentine. By now, practically everyone in the livestock town knew that Caleb was the real owner of the restaurant.
"I have to admit, boss," Jasper chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "When people started saying the man who owned this place was the same Don Thorne who took over Saint Denis... we were a little worried you might just sell the building and forget about us."
Caleb laughed lightly, a genuine, completely unpretentious sound.
"You don't need to worry about that, Jasper," Caleb reassured him, looking around at the dedicated employees who had helped him build his very first enterprise. "Nothing about your future here is in danger. Quite the opposite."
Caleb pulled a thick envelope of cash from his coat and laid it on the table.
"Now that my position is much stronger," Caleb announced, "this restaurant is going to remain open permanently. And we are going to expand. I want you to hire contractors next week. Expand the dining room, upgrade the kitchen stoves, and buy the best ingredients you can find. I want this place to serve more customers and become even more successful."
The employees looked at the money, their eyes wide with shock.
"Furthermore," Caleb added, his smile widening. "Effective immediately, every single employee in this building is receiving a permanent, thirty percent increase in their wages."
The back room erupted into cheers. Jasper shook Caleb's hand vigorously, tears of relief in his eyes. Caleb praised them for keeping the business running so flawlessly in his absence, encouraging them to continue doing good work. The scene firmly established that despite his riches, Caleb had not forgotten the loyal people who had helped him lay the very first bricks of his empire.
After spending the afternoon in Valentine, Caleb returned to Saint Denis.
Several more days passed in a blur as the final, meticulous preparations for New York were completed. The crates of ammunition were loaded, the bribes were packaged, and the intelligence reports on Tammany Hall were finalized.
Eventually, the crisp, clear morning of departure arrived.
The private, heavily armored Pullman train of the Thorne Holding Company sat idling at the Saint Denis station, billowing massive clouds of white steam. The platform was heavily secured by Thorne capos, keeping the curious public at a safe distance.
Caleb, Mary-Beth, and their traveling party stood on the platform, preparing to board. The group traveling with them was formidable: Hosea, Strauss, Arthur, Vincenzo, Silvio, John, and Javier. It was abundantly clear that Caleb was bringing the absolute best men he trusted for protection, business acumen, and practical execution. This was not a vacation, it was an invasion.
Before boarding, the atmosphere on the platform shifted into a deeply emotional, bittersweet farewell between Mary-Beth and the women of the gang who were staying behind to manage the new houses.
Mary-Beth moved down the line, hugging Abigail, Karen, Tilly, Molly, and Miss Grimshaw. The women offered their deep affection, their voices thick with emotion.
"You make sure you actually enjoy that honeymoon, honey," Karen teased, hugging Mary-Beth tightly. "Don't let Caleb spend the whole trip talking to bankers!"
"I won't," Mary-Beth laughed softly.
Molly leaned in, a mischievous, highly playful glint in her green eyes. She whispered loud enough for the others to hear, "And who knows, darling... maybe you'll come back pregnant after all those romantic nights in the big city!"
Mary-Beth instantly turned a brilliant, magnificent shade of crimson. She was completely red faced and profoundly embarrassed, covering her cheeks with her hands.
"Molly!" Mary-Beth gasped, entirely mortified.
The other women burst into peals of affectionate, raucous laughter, teasing her mercilessly while Mary-Beth desperately tried to recover her composure.
While the women laughed, another, especially meaningful and quiet moment was happening further down the platform.
Arthur was standing near the heavy steel steps of the train car. Standing immediately in front of him, looking up at the massive enforcer with soft, worried eyes, was Mary Linton.
Mary reached out, her small, gloved hands resting gently on the lapels of Arthur's dark suit. She was deeply affectionate toward him. She knew exactly what kind of men Arthur was traveling with, and she knew that traveling with Caleb into a hostile city could involve severe danger.
"You be careful up there, Arthur," Mary whispered, her voice trembling slightly. She accepted that this violence was a part of his life now, but it didn't stop her from worrying. "Promise me you'll come back to me safely. Don't go looking for trouble if you don't have to."
Arthur, the man usually seen by the world as a terrifying, cold blooded enforcer, looked down at her. His tough, scarred exterior completely melted away. He raised his massive hand, gently, almost reverently, cupping her cheek.
"I ain't looking for trouble, Mary," Arthur murmured, his deep voice incredibly gentle, revealing a side of him that most people rarely got to witness. "I'm just going up there to make sure Caleb and the others stay safe. But I promise you... I will come back. I've got too much waiting for me here now."
Their exchange was touching, showing that their relationship had become significantly more serious emotionally, rooted in a deep mutual understanding without requiring them to rush into formal, immediate commitments.
Standing a few feet away, John and Hosea noticed the quiet scene. They exchanged a look, both of them quietly, genuinely happy for Arthur. Seeing the hardened outlaw show such genuine, unguarded tenderness was unusual, and it added a beautiful, emotional depth to his character.
"Alright, gentlemen!" Caleb's voice rang out, cutting through the emotional farewells. "Time to board!"
The group began moving up the steps and into the luxurious, velvet lined interior of the Pullman cars.
Before he followed them, Caleb took one final walk down the length of the train, ensuring everything was organized perfectly. He checked the freight cars, verifying that the massive steamer trunks of clothing and books were secured.
He checked the reinforced security car, ensuring the crates of Vanguard rifles, medical supplies, and raw cash were heavily guarded by Vincenzo's men, who all knew exactly what their responsibilities were the second they crossed into New York.
Finally, Caleb took Mary-Beth's hand and helped her up the steps, boarding the train himself.
With a deafening shriek of the steam whistle, the massive locomotive lurched forward. The heavy steel wheels began to turn, slowly at first, and then with a rhythmic, unstoppable momentum.
Caleb stood by the large, reinforced glass window in the primary parlor car. Mary-Beth stood close beside him, her arm wrapped around his waist. As the train picked up speed, Caleb looked out at the passing landscape.
The towering, electric lit buildings of Saint Denis slowly began to fall behind them, fading into the distance. Caleb watched the city disappear, feeling the profound significance of the departure. He was leaving the city where he had built his very first major empire, the place where he had dragged himself out of the mud and conquered the South.
He was traveling toward a place where the stakes would be infinitely higher, where the enemies were richer, and where the future of the entire century was waiting to be claimed.
The beginning of the journey carried a heavy, intoxicating mixture of raw excitement, calculated uncertainty, deep romance, and ruthless ambition. Mary-Beth leaned her head against his shoulder, entirely secure in his presence, while the men he trusted most in the world settled into the train around them.
The rhythmic, steady clatter of heavy steel wheels against iron tracks became the heartbeat of the Thorne Holding Company as the private locomotive pushed relentlessly northward.
The journey to New York was not a swift one. It was a long, physically taxing expedition across the vast expanse of the American East, requiring the massive steam engine to make several necessary stops at rural towns and industrial rail yards along the route to replenish its massive reserves of coal and water.
Rather than viewing these halts as an inconvenience, Caleb utilized them perfectly. Whenever the train hissed to a halt, billowing white steam across provincial wooden platforms in the Carolinas or the misty valleys of Virginia, the stops gave everyone inside a much needed chance to step outside.
They could stretch their cramped legs, breathe in the crisp, fresh country air, and enjoy a brief, grounding break from being confined inside the velvet lined mahogany walls of the train cars for hours at a time.
These brief layovers breathed a natural, vibrant life into the journey. Arthur and John could be seen standing by the edge of the platforms, smoking cigarettes and idly discussing the changing tree lines and the crispness of the northern air. Javier would occasionally pull out his guitar, sitting on a wooden crate near the freight car and playing soft, melodic Spanish tunes that drifted pleasantly over the rail yards.
Inside the train, as the miles rolled endlessly by, Caleb ensured there was plenty to keep his inner circle occupied. The luxurious parlor cars were fully stocked. The men played high stakes hands of poker at the felt lined tables, passing around bottles of premium Kentucky bourbon and sharing stories that were no longer burdened by the immediate threat of Pinkerton agents.
But for Caleb and Mary-Beth, the long journey served an entirely different, far more beautiful purpose. It was an extended, isolated opportunity to simply exist together as newlyweds.
Away from the massive logistical demands of the Saint Denis factories and the constant stream of politicians seeking favors, Caleb and Mary-Beth retreated into their own private world. They spent hours sitting close together on the curved velvet sofas.
Mary-Beth would read aloud from her thick, leather bound novels, her voice melodic and soothing against the background hum of the tracks. Other times, she would write in her blank journals, mapping out the sprawling chapters of her new book, while Caleb sat beside her, a glass of whiskey in hand, quietly reading through the latest national newspapers or simply watching her with a look of profound, unfiltered devotion.
They talked about everything and nothing, sharing quiet laughter and softly spoken dreams, becoming effortlessly, beautifully comfortable with the reality of married life while surrounded by a protective ring of the men they trusted most.
At one particular stop in the rolling, forested hills of Pennsylvania, the train came to a halt beside a sparkling, crystal clear river.
Caleb took Mary-Beth's hand, leading her out of the parlor car and down the steel steps into the brisk, incredibly refreshing afternoon air. The leaves on the massive oak trees were just beginning to turn, painting the landscape in vibrant strokes of gold and crimson.
Mary-Beth stepped away from the tracks, walking toward the riverbank with a bright, enthusiastic smile on her face. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of the mountain air, holding the brim of her sapphire hat as a gentle breeze swept through the valley.
"It is so beautiful here, Caleb," Mary-Beth sighed, opening her eyes to take in the changing landscapes. "The air feels completely different than Lemoyne. It's sharper. Cleaner. I've read about the northern forests, but seeing them like this... it's entirely different than I imagined."
Caleb stood a few paces behind her, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his tailored trousers. He wasn't looking at the river, or the trees, or the picturesque mountain valley. He was looking entirely at her.
"It is beautiful," Caleb agreed softly, his voice carrying a warmth that was reserved exclusively for his wife.
He stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. Mary-Beth leaned into him naturally, her hands coming up to rest over his. In these quieter moments, the towering, terrifying CEO of the South completely vanished.
He was just a man, in love, enjoying the simple, breathtaking enthusiasm of the woman who anchored his soul. The scene provided a stark, necessary contrast to his increasingly ambitious plans, a silent promise between them that despite the billions of dollars and the corporate warfare awaiting them, this honeymoon was still a deeply personal, sacred experience.
But as the train eventually reboarded and crossed into the industrialized borders of New Jersey the following day, Caleb knew it was time to shift gears. The honeymoon would continue, but the shield wall needed to be raised.
Caleb gathered Hosea, Strauss, Vincenzo, Silvio, Arthur, John, and Javier in the primary executive car. The poker cards were cleared away, the whiskey glasses were set down, and the atmosphere in the room shifted instantly from relaxed camaraderie to serious, militant focus.
Caleb stood at the head of the long mahogany table, the rhythmic sway of the train failing to disrupt his perfect, imposing posture.
"Listen to me carefully," Caleb began, his blue eyes sweeping over the hardened faces of his generals. "We are less than a day out from New York. I want everyone's head in the game. The rules, the playing field, and the very nature of survival are fundamentally different from what we are accustomed to in Saint Denis."
Arthur leaned forward, resting his massive forearms on the table. "You said they were organized. How organized?"
"More vicious, more politically connected, and infinitely more unpredictable than Angelo Bronte ever was," Caleb explained, his tone deadly serious. "New York is a city of absolute, entrenched monopolies. The powerful men who run Tammany Hall, Wall Street, and the waterfront have spent decades ruthlessly protecting their positions. They do not react kindly to outsiders arriving with heavy pockets and attempting to establish their own influence."
Caleb paced slowly at the head of the table. "Anyone attempting to stake a claim in New York will inevitably be viewed as a threat by those already holding power. They will test us. They will attempt to intimidate us. Therefore, I need every single one of you, and every capo on this train, to remain fiercely disciplined. Stay alert. Be incredibly careful about who you trust, and do not draw your weapons unless I give the absolute order."
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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: 2,772 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 283,392 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 Broken Pirate Sword, 1 Milton's Safety Deposit Key, 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: -