novel bin Chapter 478: 451. Scout Perfect Place & Sending The Letter
Chapter 478: 451. Scout Perfect Place & Sending The Letter
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"And as for your other suggestion," Caleb continued, shifting effortlessly into his corporate CEO persona. "Your idea of expanding the restaurant back in Valentine by opening a new branch here in the city? It is a stroke of pure, unadulterated genius."
He tapped his index finger against the glass table, validating her brilliant business acumen. "I completely agree. It is time to expand our legitimate hospitality fronts. I will have Antonio go out into the city today to scout for the perfect location."
Caleb mapped out the exact geographic strategy she had hinted at. "We won't put it in the ultra wealthy Garden District, and we won't bury it deep in the rotting slums. We will place it exactly in the middle. Between the slums and also the center, commercial part of the city. By positioning it on the border, so that he could get clienteles from both sides. We will draw in the desperate working class who need cheap, heavy calories, and the curious middle class clerks who want an authentic, rustic dining experience. After all, if we selling my foods at very affordable prices, the sheer volume of foot traffic will generate thousands of dollars a week."
Mary-Beth, hearing all of that, was absolutely, overwhelmingly happy. Not only had the most powerful man in the state listened to her ideas, but he had actively praised them, validated their economic worth, and was putting them into motion immediately. Her heart swelled with an incredible amount of love and pride.
Unable to contain her joy, she leaned across the table, her hand resting on his shoulder, and pressed a firm, deeply affectionate kiss on his cheek for it.
"You are going to change their lives, Caleb," Mary-Beth whispered against his skin, her voice thick with emotion. "You are going to save them all yet again."
Caleb smiled, a warm, completely unburdened expression that made him look years younger. He reached up and gently stroked the top of her head, his fingers running through her dark, perfectly styled hair in a gesture of deep, protective comfort.
"We are going to change their lives even more, sweetheart," Caleb corrected her softly. "We are doing this together."
With the emotional decision firmly made, it was time to execute the logistics. Caleb pulled away slightly, his demeanor shifting back into the sharp, commanding focus of the Don. He raised his voice just enough to carry over the splashing of the marble fountain and called for Antonio.
Almost instantaneously, the heavy glass doors leading from the mansion's interior pushed open. The immaculate head butler, who was always hovering just out of sight but entirely within earshot, came stepping forward onto the sunlit porch. Antonio moved with his usual flawless, silent grace, stopping a respectful few paces away from the glass table.
He clasped his white gloved hands behind his back and bowed his head deeply. "You called, Don McLaughlin?"
Antonio inquired, his voice a smooth, cultured murmur.
Caleb leaned back in his wrought iron chair, issuing the first half of the grand expansion plan.
"Antonio, I need you to send a couple of your smartest, most economically savvy men out into the city this morning," Caleb ordered, his tone crisp and authoritative. "I want them to scout for a perfect building and location to open a brand new, large scale restaurant. I want the property situated exactly on the central border of the city, in between the slums of the eastern docks and also the center, wealthy commercial part of the city."
Antonio nodded his head, his sharp mind immediately beginning to mentally map the available real estate in the transitional districts of Saint Denis.
"We are expanding our legitimate holdings," Caleb elaborated, making sure the butler understood the scope of the project. "I will have my highly successful restaurant operation in Valentine expand here and open a major branch in the city. The target demographic is high volume, affordable, working class dining with a rustic frontier aesthetic. Find a building with a massive kitchen space and a structural foundation strong enough to handle heavy daily foot traffic."
Hearing that ambitious corporate directive, Antonio did not hesitate, he bowed slightly.
"An excellent expansion of our legitimate portfolio, my Don," Antonio praised the initiative smoothly. "I know exactly the sort of transitional district you require. I have men who handle real estate acquisitions for our gambling fronts, I will dispatch them immediately to secure the best available properties."
Caleb nodded his head at that, completely satisfied with the butler's rapid comprehension and execution. Before then, Caleb shifted to the far more sensitive, highly personal task of the morning. He looked at Antonio and asked for a specific set of items.
"Before you dispatch the real estate team, Antonio," Caleb requested, his voice softening just a fraction. "Bring me a high quality pen, and also some premium writing paper alongside a thick, fancy envelope. I would like to send an invitation to a group of people that are very, very important to me."
Antonio, recognizing that this was not standard mafia business but a highly personal matter for the Don, did not ask any probing questions. He simply bowed a little deeper, completely respecting the privacy of the command, before turning on his heel and leaving the porch to do exactly what Caleb had ordered and asked for.
The garden returned to its quiet, serene state for just a few moments. Mary-Beth watched Caleb, a sense of thrilling anticipation building in her chest. The letter he was about to write would effectively bridge the gap between their muddy, desperate past and their golden, untouchable future.
Soon, the sound of soft footsteps echoed on the stone tiles. It wasn't the butler this time. A young, uniformed household maid came walking forward, her eyes cast respectfully down toward the floorboards. She carried a polished silver serving tray in her hands.
The maid approached the glass table and carefully went to give Caleb the crisp, cream colored paper, a heavy gold fountain pen, and the thick, wax lined fancy envelope that he had asked for.
"Your writing materials, Don McLaughlin," the maid whispered nervously, setting the tray down before immediately curtsying and practically fleeing back into the safety of the mansion.
Caleb picked up the gold fountain pen, feeling the heavy, expensive weight of the instrument in his hand. He pulled the crisp sheet of cream colored paper toward him, uncapping the pen with a soft click.
He took a moment to gather his thoughts, staring at the blank page, knowing that the exact wording of this letter was absolutely critical. He was dealing with Arthur Morgan and Hosea Matthews, two of the most cynical, deeply paranoid outlaws in the entire American West.
If the letter sounded too formal, too polished, or like a trap, they would immediately pack up the house and flee into the mountains. He had to appeal to their trust, their curiosity, and their desperate need for safety.
In which Caleb then brought the nib of the pen to the paper and began to write. His cursive was strong, bold, and highly legible.
He wrote on the paper, specifically and warmly inviting Hosea and Arthur to bring everyone, which means literally everyone in the entire Van der Linde camp, down south to Saint Denis.
"Arthur, Hosea,
I am writing to tell you that the long game has finally paid off. The work I have been doing down here in the city is completely finished. The threats have been neutralized, the board has been cleared, and I have secured a position of absolute strength.
Pack up the house so that it will be safe, and tell everyone that it is time to move. I want you to bring everyone to Saint Denis. And I mean everyone. Bring the women, bring Jack, bring Pearson, and bring the boys. Leave the mud of the Heartlands behind.
I know you both possess a healthy amount of paranoia, but I swear to you on my life, it is very safe here now. The law in this city will not touch you, and the Pinkertons hold no power in Saint Denis anymore, before I operate it I have made sure of that. The perimeter is secure. There is something monumental that I would like for you all to see here. A future that we have all bled for."
Caleb paused, knowing that the logistics of moving twenty outlaws halfway across the state would be their immediate, stress inducing concern. He needed to remove every single obstacle. He also explicitly told them in the letter to not worry about the arduous journey.
"Do not exhaust the horses or break your backs riding the wagons through the swamps. Leave the heavy equipment. Take the train from Valentine directly into the Saint Denis central station. I have left a hundred dollar bill enclosed in this envelope. Use it to buy first class train tickets for everyone in the camp. Travel in comfort, travel in peace, and I will have my men waiting to receive you at the station platform when you arrive.
Trust me.
Caleb Thorne."
He blew softly on the wet ink, ensuring the bold signature dried perfectly on the premium paper. He read over the words one last time, satisfied that it struck the perfect balance between mysterious success and absolute, brotherly reassurance.
And after that's completely done, Caleb reached down to his side. He unbuckled the leather flap of his rugged, dark Vaquero satchel, which effectively acted as the physical anchor point for his dimensional inventory system.
Reaching inside, he took out a freshly printed hundred dollar bill. In 1899, a hundred dollars was a staggering, almost incomprehensible sum of money for a poor, starving family her ein Saint Denis. It was more than enough to purchase a completely private, luxurious first class train car from Valentine to the coast, with plenty left over for hot meals and whiskey along the way.
He placed the crisp hundred dollar bill carefully inside the thick, wax lined envelope, and then meticulously folded the handwritten letter as well, sliding it in right behind the money.
And after that, he licked the heavy adhesive flap and sealed the envelope tightly shut, running his thumb along the edge to ensure it was completely secure. No one would be tampering with this correspondence.
He flipped the sealed envelope over and picked up the gold fountain pen one last time. He needed to address it safely, ensuring that if an state agent happened to intercept the mail bag in Valentine, it wouldn't immediately flag the location of the most wanted gang in these part of the country.
He smoothly wrote the address of the Valentine train station mail depot, addressing the incredibly valuable letter specifically to Mr. Tacitus Kilgore. It was the classic, deeply ingrained alias that Arthur Morgan and the gang used to secretly receive their mail and telegrams while on the run. Seeing that name on the envelope would instantly verify the authenticity of the sender to Arthur.
With the monumental invitation finally finalized, Caleb stood up from the glass table.
Before then, he turned and gestured for the young maid, who was waiting nervously just inside the shadows of the mansion's open glass doors. She hurried forward, keeping her eyes lowered respectfully.
He gave the thick, heavy envelope to the maid, slipping her a shiny silver dollar piece for her troubles.
"Take this immediately," Caleb told her, his voice brooking no delay. "I want you to have it sent to the central Saint Denis mail station right now. Pay for the absolute fastest, most prioritized express courier service available. It needs to be sent to the Valentine station without a single hour of delay."
"Yes, Don McLaughlin! Immediately, sir!" the maid squeaked, clutching the precious envelope tightly to her chest. She curtsied rapidly and practically sprinted back into the mansion, eager to execute the Don's most critical command.
Caleb watched her go, a deep, profound sense of finality settling over him. He slowly turned back to Mary-Beth, who was standing by the table, her hands clasped tightly together, a look of pure, thrilling anticipation on her beautiful face.
The die was cast. The letter was on its way. In just a few short days, the former outlaws of the Van der Linde gang would step off a train and walk directly into the glittering, blood soaked palace of the absolute King of Saint Denis. The collision of his two entirely different worlds was imminent, and Caleb Thorne was entirely ready to introduce his family into these new situation.
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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: 3,222 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 285,392 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 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: -