95. American Pastoral Without Micah But With Caleb

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Horseshoe Overlook was alive with midday activity when Caleb returned. He dismounted from Morgan and tied her up near the hitching post, giving her one last affectionate pat on the neck. Then he spotted Arthur near the wagons, crouched down beside a big sack filled with faded clothes and dusty hats.

"Find anything good?" Caleb called out as he approached.

Arthur looked up and held out a wrinkled old coat and a dusty brown hat, grinning. "Ugly enough no one'll remember 'em," he said. "Found the whole damn bundle for less than fifteen bucks. Pants, boots, even gloves."

Caleb chuckled. "Nice work. That'll do just fine."

Arthur stood, dusting off his knees. "You learn anything useful back in Valentine?"

"Yeah," Caleb said, folding his arms. "Like what I have heard before, it still uses the same route. South of Little Creek River, cuts right through that stretch of road near the rocky hill, they always pass that road. But get this, they bumped up the guards. Six men now. Four riders, two on the wagon, driver and shotgun."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully, scratching at his beard. "Figures. The bank must be gettin' paranoid with all the robberies on their wagon. Good. Makes it easier to predict 'em."

"Exactly," Caleb said. "I figured we hit 'em tomorrow, like we planned. Take the money straight off the wagon and ditch it after. No bringing it back, no extra heat."

Arthur's eyes lit up with a gleam of agreement. "That's smart. We don't need a damn parade down the road with a wagon full of cash and a target on our backs. We do it clean and fast."

"Right," Caleb said. "We get in, grab the strongbox, and disappear. By the time they realize what happened, we're already back here, countin' bills."

Arthur cracked a grin. "I like the sound of that."

They shook hands with a firm grip and mutual trust, then Arthur added, "I'll sharpen my repeater tonight, make sure everything's loaded and clean. You do the same."

"Already done," Caleb said with a grin.

That night, as the camp wound down, the final preparations began. Arthur cleaned his repeater in silence, the rhythmic scrape of metal against cloth almost meditative.

Caleb sat by his own small fire, checking his revolvers, making sure the chamber spun smooth and the barrel shined under the flickering light. He cleaned his knife too, though he hoped he wouldn't have to use it.

Dutch passed by at one point, eyeing them with a raised brow but saying nothing. Maybe he suspected something was brewing. Maybe he didn't. Either way, Caleb didn't care. This was between him and Arthur.

When the moon climbed high and the camp fell still, Caleb lay in his bedroll again, the stars stretching far above him like a canopy of silent watchers.

Tomorrow's the day.

Morning came swiftly, sharp and bright. Caleb woke before sunrise, heart beating steady. He washed up with cold water from the barrel, dressed in the mismatched, forgettable clothes Arthur had brought. Everything he wore felt itchy and ill fitting, but that was the point.

Arthur was already up too, buckling his belt and slinging his rifle across his back.

"You ready?" Arthur asked, voice quiet.

"Been ready," Caleb replied. He walked over to Morgan, who was saddled and waiting. "Let's go make history. Oh yeah, you have a your long lasso on you right Arthur?"

Arthur hearing that nods his head and shows the lasso to Caleb, "Yeah I do, why?"

Seeing the lasso cause Caleb to let out a smile, because he just had an epiphany on what to do to stop the wagon, other than shooting the driver. "Suddenly I have an idea in mind using the lasso to stop the wagon, that is if you don't mind the chances of it breaking?"

"I don't mind," Arthur said as he get on his horse. "As long as we get the money easy and fast, also I'm sure you will buy me another one to replace it." after saying that he let out a cheeky smirk at Caleb.

Caleb just chuckle at this, shake his head, and get on Morgan. They then rode out under cover of morning sun, sticking close to the brush and trees.

The trail took them northwest, passing through Cumberland Falls and Wallace Station, then head south until the terrain grew more rugged and the trees taller. Soon, the Little Creek River came into view, silver in the morning light.

They found the rocky outcrop that Caleb remembered, just south of the road where the wagon would pass. It offered excellent cover and a clear vantage point.

They dismounted from their horses quietly and tied them to two separate trees tucked behind the rocky outcrop, where the thick underbrush would keep the animals hidden and calm. Caleb stepped around Morgan and turned to Arthur, holding out his hand.

"Your lasso, Arthur," he said.

Arthur raised a brow but didn't hesitate. He reached into his saddlebag and tossed the coiled rope through the air. Caleb caught it smoothly with one hand. He ran his thumb along the fibers, testing their strength, then nodded in satisfaction.

"How the hell you plannin' to stop a bank wagon with a rope?" Arthur asked, arms folding across his chest.

Caleb's smile had a glint of wicked satisfaction. "Simple. We stretch the lasso across the road, and tie it tight between two sturdy anchors. When that wagon comes through, they won't see it until it's too late. Horses trip, maybe flip the wagon. We wait, clean up what's left. No shootin' the driver needed."

Arthur let out a low whistle, impressed despite himself. "Huh. Like a snare trap, but for a whole damn wagon. Ain't half bad."

"Long as we don't mess up the knot and choose the right anchor," Caleb said, already moving to the first side of the road. "You keep watch while I tie this."

Arthur fell in behind him as they made their way down to the shadowed edge of the dirt trail. Caleb stopped at a thick, gnarled oak rooted into the hillside. The tree had stood for decades, and its trunk was as wide as a whiskey barrel.

He worked quickly, wrapping the lasso around the base and pulling it tight in a firm sailor's knot, double-checked to hold under pressure. As he cinched it, Arthur leaned against a nearby rock, chewing a stalk of dry grass.

"But you really think this'll work, Caleb?" Arthur asked, tone just skeptical enough. "I mean, rope's tough, but a whole steel wagon and four gallopin' horses?"

Caleb tightened the knot one last time, then straightened up and met Arthur's gaze.

"I'm sure of it," he said. "Wagons like that don't go as fast as a free horse, not with that much weight. But if they panic? Those horses'll sprint, and they won't see this trip line coming. They'll tumble, maybe even crush the driver and the guard riding shotgun. Either way, we take the guards out the second they're distracted."

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. "Hell of a gamble."

"But a good one," Caleb added. "Besides, you ever seen what happens when a horse trips at full gallop? It's like hittin' a brick wall."

Arthur cracked a small grin. "Alright. You talked me into it. Let's get the other end set. And if this rope breaks," he added, smirking, "you're buyin' me a new one."

"You'll get a new one. Maybe one braided with silver if this job goes smooth."

They crossed the road, where Caleb found another large tree, this one not as solid as the first, but thick enough to do the job.

He pulled the rope taut and tied it down low to the base, just a few inches above the ground, snug and hard. Then he crouched to test the tension. The lasso stretched firm and flat across the road, camouflaged by the dirt and shadow, nearly invisible unless you knew to look.

Arthur watched with growing appreciation. "Damn. You really thought this out."

"I like being prepared," Caleb said as he wiped his hands clean.

With the trap set, both men pulled their sack cloth masks from their pockets and put them around their faces.

"Time to climb back up," Arthur muttered, repeater already in hand.

They returned to the rocky outcrop and mounted their horses once more, taking slow, careful steps up the slope. The two of them then get on their horse, watching the trip line down below like a spider watching its web.

The minutes passed slowly. Morning gave way to late morning, then near noon. Caleb could feel the sweat forming under his collar. He wiped it away with his sleeve, eyes never leaving the road.

Two hours passed.

Then came the sound.

Distant hoofbeats.

"Here we go," Arthur whispered, already raising his repeater to his shoulder.

Caleb drew in a slow breath and focused. The sound grew louder, until they could see dust rising in the distance, first the faint silhouettes of riders, then the glint of metal from rifle barrels.

The steel wagon came into view, pulled by four brown geldings, A driver in a dusty vest sat at the front holding the reins, while a shotgun guard in a bowler hat kept his hand near his repeater. Flanking them on either side rode four armed guards, each alert, repeater on their hand.

Caleb leaned close to Arthur.

"Once they hit the line, don't hesitate. Drop the guards before they can regroup."

Arthur nodded, voice low and gruff. "Got it."

Then, in unison, they spurred their horses forward, charging down the slope with their guns drawn.

Caleb's voice changed too, higher and nasal than his natural voice. "This is a robbery!" he shouted. "Stop that wagon, hands in the air!"

The riders shouted back, curses, commands, and threats. The wagon did not stop.

Instead, the driver whipped the reins hard.

The horses surged forward.

Just as Caleb hoped.

The geldings hit the rope at full gallop and chaos erupted.

The rope snapped taut with a twang and all four horses tripped nearly in unison. Their legs buckled, momentum sending them crashing to the dirt.

The force jerked the front of the wagon downward, CRACK! and the entire thing lurched sideways as the weight behind the fallen horses couldn't be stopped. The driver screamed, flailing as he was launched forward and crushed between the horses and the wagon tongue.

The shotgun guard flipped through the air like a rag doll, landing on his back with a sickening crunch.

The guards on horseback tried to react, but they were stunned, their formation broken by the sudden carnage.

CRACK! CRACK!

Arthur fired twice, dropping the nearest rider before he could raise his rifle. Caleb activated his dead eye, swung his Lancaster around, and aimed at the second rider, BANG! A clean shot through the chest. The man slumped and fell off his horse.

One of the guards veered to the side, trying to flee or flank them, but Caleb tracked him easily due to the slow motion and fired again, THUD! The man tumbled off his horse, legs flailing.

Arthur finished off the last guard with a shot to the head. The rider dropped without a sound.

Silence returned just as quickly as the chaos began.

The bank wagon lay tilted on its side, one of its wheels cracked, the horses moaning in pain or silence, some dead outright. The driver's body twitched once before going still. The shotgun guard groaned, trying to crawl away, his arm bent at an unnatural angle.

Caleb dismounted and approached cautiously, his Navy revolver in hand as he had put his Lancaster away.

Arthur followed, his repeater raised.

"Shoot him, Arthur," Caleb said, nodding at the shotgun guard. "Better leave no witness alive and we put him out of his misery as well, we are robbers, not monsters after all."

Arthur nodded, shot the guard right on the head, and moved toward the back of the steel wagon, where the strongbox remained locked with its padlock. He aimed his repeater and shot the padlock, forcing the strongbox to be opened immediately.

CRACK!

Inside was the lockbox that should be carrying the money. But unlike in the game, beside the lockbox were a few small sacks that clinked when lifted, either filled with jewelry or gold nuggets. They worked fast, taking out the lockbox, prying it open, emptying whatever they found into their saddlebags, money first, then getting all of the small sacks filled with gold nuggets or jewelry, and lastly, inside the lockbox, there's also a few papers that looked like bank bonds or bearer notes.

...

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 2)

- 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)

Money: 956 dollars and 43 cents

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