Red Dead Redemption 2: From Gaming To Cowboy

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Sheriff Malloy helped Caleb carry the man into the holding cell and dump him onto the cot. "You got a good eye, Deputy," Sheriff Malloy said as he locked the cell. "And good timing. You keep pullin' nights like this, I might just ask you to become permanent deputy and then replace me to run this office for me while I retire early."

Caleb gave a tired smirk. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Sheriff. I'm just here temporarily, until you found permanent deputy."

Sheriff Malloy laugh and clapped his shoulder. "Still, really good work you done on your first day. You've earned a quiet night."

"I'll hold you to that," Caleb said, tipping his hat.

He stepped back outside, the cold air refreshing against the heat of action.

Morgan nickered quietly, and Caleb rubbed her snout again. "Not bad for a day's work, huh?"

He returned her to the hitching post outside the hotel, then walked up the steps and into the lobby. The clerk behind the desk gave him a nod and handed over his room key without needing to ask.

Once upstairs, Caleb peeled off his hat, boots, and coat. He washed his hands, face, and neck with the basin water, the cold biting his skin.

Finally, he sat on the edge of the bed, He laid down at last, the mattress rough but welcome, and stared up at the wooden beams above.

Tomorrow would bring new work. New danger. Maybe a new bounty. But for tonight?

Tonight, he could rest. He had earned that much.

The next five days passed in a blur of duty, routine, and quiet moments following Caleb's first day as a deputy slipped by like the lazy drift of smoke from a campfire, that Caleb would remember far longer than the work itself.

From the crack of dawn to the fading light of dusk, Caleb moved through Valentine like a man possessed, not with urgency, but with purpose. As one of the sheriff's temporary right hand, he took to the streets every morning, hat low, rifle slung over his shoulder, and eyes scanning for trouble.

He broke up a heated shouting match between two stablehands arguing over horse feed. He calmed a drunk who'd wandered into the general store and threatened to take all the tobacco tins hostage.

He even escorted a widow across town to visit her husband's grave, standing respectfully a few paces behind her as she wept silently.

None of it brought any leads on Cornwall or the Pinkertons, or hints of danger for the gang, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. In fact, to Caleb, it was a gift.

Peace, however temporary, was a rare commodity. And more importantly, the townsfolk were beginning to trust him. Some began calling him "Deputy" with more genuine warmth, others simply offered nods of approval or called out his name when they passed him by.

Sheriff Malloy handed Caleb a rolled up dollar bill on the evening of the second day, 15 dollars in hard earned pay. Caleb took it with a short nod and a quiet "Much appreciated Sheriff," tucking it into his coat pocket as the sheriff gave him a rare, approving look.

"Damn fine work, son. Valentine's sleepin' easier with you on them streets."

"Hope it stays that way," Caleb said. But deep down, he knew peace never lasted long, not in a world like this.

At dawn on the third day, Caleb mounted Morgan and rode out eastward through the grassy hills and mist kissed woods, leaving Valentine behind for the more familiar surroundings of Horseshoe Overlook. The gang's camp came into view just past noon, nestled between the hills and overlooking the river like a little world apart.

Dutch was sitting in his usual place, boots up, reading a book, though he set it down when he saw Caleb approaching. Hosea, sharpening a knife nearby, gave a knowing smile.

"Well, if it ain't our very own deputy," Hosea said, standing up and brushing wood shavings from his coat. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Caleb dismounted and tipped his hat. "Just temporary," he reminded them, before giving a full report. "Three days so far. No trouble. No word or sight of any trouble. No sign of the Pinkertons or the law sniffing on us either."

Dutch listened intently, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "That's good, son. Means we still got time. But keep your ears open. You know how snakes slither, you don't see 'em till they're already wrapped around your leg."

"I'll keep looking. I've built more trust with the town. If anything comes up, I'll know."

Hosea glanced at Caleb. "And the sheriff? He suspect anything?"

"Not yet. He actually praise me for the good work I have done."

Dutch grinned. "Perfect. You're doin' good, Caleb. Real good."

"Good man," Hosea said, patting Caleb on the shoulder.

The rest of the day was his to spend at camp. Caleb wandered from one group to another, sharing a word here, a laugh there. He kept his distance from Bill, who still barely looked at him. Strauss, of course, kept to his ledgers like they were holy scriptures, and Caleb wisely left him alone. But everyone else? They welcomed him back like kin.

Especially Mary-Beth.

She was seated beneath a tree, her book in her lap, her auburn hair catching the sunlight, and when she look up, her eyes lighting up when Caleb approached.

"You came back," she said, closing the book gently. "How was it?"

He smiled as he sat beside her, just far enough not to be improper, but close enough to feel the warmth of her presence. "Back for a day. Busy. Nothing worth writing a dime novel about. Yet."

Mary-Beth gave a gentle laugh. "Well, I've been waiting for the rest of the story."

It took a short moment for Caleb to recall what she meant, but then it came back. Harry Potter. His retelling of that modern tale, reshaped and twisted to fit the world of 1899. He nodded.

And so, for the next two hours, Caleb picked up where he'd left off, Harry, Ron, and Hermione navigating Hogwarts, the Philosopher's Stone, Quirrell and Voldemort lurking in the shadows. He adapted as he went, turning cars into carriages, buses into stagecoaches, making the magical world fit into one Mary-Beth could envision.

She scribbled furiously in her notebook, pausing only to gasp at the twists or giggle at the humor. By the time Caleb reached the climax, Harry's confrontation with Quirrell, her pen was flying across the page.

"And then... Harry touched Quirrell's face," Caleb said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And where his skin met Quirrell's, it burned. Because his mother's love was protecting him—"

Mary-Beth's hand stilled. Her eyes were wide. "Oh my goodness."

Caleb grinned. "Yeah. And then—"

He finished the tale, watching as Mary-Beth's expressions shifted, shock, relief, joy. When he finally said, "The end," she let out a breath she'd been holding.

"You… you finished it," she whispered, looking down at the last page as though it were treasure.

"That was wonderful," she breathed. "I've never heard anything like it! The magic, the friendship, the—" She stopped, suddenly noticing how close they were sitting.

Caleb looked at her, and noticed too. The space between them had dwindled without either realizing it. Her face was flushed, her lips slightly parted. Before he could stop himself, his hand rose slowly and brushed the top of her head. Her hair was soft, softer than he expected, and slightly fluffy from the wind.

Mary-Beth froze, her cheeks turning the brightest shade of red he'd ever seen. She lowered her head to hide her face, but the way her shoulders tensed and then relaxed told Caleb everything he needed to know. Then, slowly, she leaned into the touch..

He didn't pull his hand back. Not right away. His heart was beating faster than it had in any gunfight. He wasn't even sure why he did it. Maybe because she'd looked too cute not to. Maybe because he'd wanted to say more than words could manage.

A twig suddenly snapped nearby. They jerked apart as Sean stumbled into view, blinking blearily.

"Oi, what're you two— Oh." His smirk was instant. "Am I interruptin' somethin'?"

Mary-Beth stood so fast her book tumbled to the ground. "I... I should go help Miss Grimshaw with the laundry!"

She fled, leaving Caleb to glare at Sean.

The Irishman held up his hands. "Didn't mean to scare her off! But damn, Caleb. Didn't know you had it in you."

Caleb retrieved Mary-Beth's book, tucking it under his arm. "Shut up, Sean."

Sean just laughed and wandered off, leaving Caleb alone with his racing thoughts.

Caleb didn't sleep easy that night, but not because of danger. His mind was too full of golden hair, of warm smiles and the realization that somewhere along the way, this strange new life had begun to feel like something worth protecting.

The next day he left early, bidding goodbye to everyone, Mary-Beth included. Her farewell was soft, hesitant, but filled with something unspoken that lingered in her eyes.

He didn't speak of the moment they'd shared. Neither did she. But they both knew.

He rode back to Valentine with the wind tugging at his coat and his thoughts drifting back again and again to the girl with the notebook.

The morning of the fourth day dawned bright and clear when he reached Valentine, the kind of day that made even Valentine's muddy streets seem tolerable. Caleb had a plans one that involved Jasper, a sack of potatoes, and a culinary revolution.

He found the young clerk restocking shelves at the general store, his arms laden with tins of peaches.

"Jasper," Caleb called, leaning against the doorframe. "How'd you like a day off?"

Jasper nearly dropped the tins. "A what now?"

"A day off. From this." Caleb gestured at the store. "I've got something to show you. Something that'll change your life."

Jasper blinked. Then grinned. "Mr. Worth ain't gonna like it."

Caleb tossed a coin in the air, a silver dollar that glinted in the morning light and caught it neatly. "I'll make it worth his while."

Mr. Worth proved easy to convince, 2 dollars and a promise that Jasper would return to work as usual tomorrow had the old shopkeeper waving them off with a smile.

Next thing to do was gather supplies.

Caleb led Jasper through the store, piling goods into the young man's arms.

"Four bread rolls. Two wedges of cheese. Two onions. And..." Caleb grabbed several bottles of lard cooking oil. "These."

Jasper frowned. "What in blazes are we makin' that needs this much oil, Caleb?"

"You'll see."

The total came to 15 dollars and 31 cents, a steep price, but Caleb paid without hesitation.

Jasper accepted a sack filled with the bread, cheese, and onions. Caleb carried the bottles of lard under one arm and nodded toward the door.

As they stepped outside, he handed Jasper a dollar bill. "Run over to Old Bob's. Get us two pounds of prime beef. Tell him it's for me, he'll give you the good cuts."

While Jasper hurried off, Caleb ducked into the hotel and up to his room. The cooking pots, kitchen knife, meat cleaver, the small pouch of salt, and remaining creeping thyme inside a cloth went into a burlap sack alongside the potatoes. By the time he returned downstairs, Jasper was waiting on the porch, a blood stained parcel in hand.

"Old Bob said this is his best cut," Jasper said breathlessly. "He even threw in some extra fat for free."

"Perfect," Caleb said with a grin. *Come on. We're headin' to the back of the stables."

Behind Valentine's stable was a shaded little spot shielded from the wind and hidden enough not to draw the curious eyes of townsfolk. Caleb figured if he ever needed a quiet place to cook again, this would do just fine.

With Morgan tethered nearby, they set up. Caleb built a small fire pit while Jasper fetched water from the well.

"Alright," Caleb said, rolling up his sleeves. "Lesson one, how to make what I called a ground beef." He laid out the meat on a clean cloth, then took up the cleaver. With swift, practiced chops, he began mincing the prime cut into fine grounds. Jasper watched, fascinated, as the texture transformed.

...

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)

Money: 1451 dollars and 51 cents and 2 gold nuggets

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