Outlaw Jacob

Chapter - 08

Five years later, 1908, Bluebell, America

The morning sun was bright, and Jacob's eyes slowly opened as the light filtered through the front flaps of his tent. He yawned, stretching out his limbs before sitting up on his bedroll. The years had hardened him, but mornings still held a semblance of peace.

Jacob emerged from his tent, taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air. The camp was quiet, save for the distant sounds of birds and the occasional rustle of leaves. He stretched his neck and rubbed at the knots that had formed from another night on the hard ground. Moving toward the embers of the previous night's campfire, he saw the coffee percolator resting nearby. With practiced efficiency, Jacob set about making coffee, savoring the familiar ritual.

As he waited for the coffee to brew, he looked around the camp. The tents were scattered in a loose circle, their worn fabric fluttering slightly in the gentle breeze. The life of an outlaw wasn't glamorous, but it had its moments of calm, like this one.

He noticed Koen stirring in his tent and soon saw the older man emerge, his movements slower than Jacob's. Koen had aged over the years, the lines on his face deepening, but his presence remained as commanding as ever.

"Jacob," Koen greeted, his voice gruff from sleep.

"Good morning, Koen," Jacob replied, offering a rare smile.

Jacob handed a steaming cup of coffee to Koen, who accepted it with a nod of thanks. They stood together in companionable silence for a moment, each sipping their coffee and soaking in the morning tranquility.

"It seems to be a good day," Koen remarked, breaking the silence.

"Hope so," Jacob responded, his eyes scanning the horizon.

"Where are the other two?" Jacob asked, glancing around for Nathan and Jonah.

"Nathan and Jonah are out in Bluebell," Koen informed him. "They're scoping a lead they had about a potentially profitable homestead to rob."

Jacob nodded, taking another sip of his coffee. Bluebell was a small town, but it had its share of wealthy residents. If Nathan and Jonah were sniffing out a good target, it could mean a decent payday for the group.

"Why don't you swing by the town as well? Meet up with them. You know I can't rely on those two alone," Koen said, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation.

"Alright, I'll get going in a minute. What about you, what are you gonna do?" Jacob asked, setting his empty cup down and stretching again.

Koen started moving back toward his tent, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Me, well, seeing how fine a morning it is, I'm going to read a book."

Jacob chuckled softly at that. Koen's love for books was one of the few things that humanized him in Jacob's eyes. It was a stark contrast to their outlaw lives, but it was also a reminder that beneath the hardened exterior, there were still traces of a gentleman.

With a final nod, Jacob watched Koen disappear into his tent. He turned back to the campfire, the embers now completely cold. It was time to head to Bluebell and see what kind of trouble Nathan and Jonah were stirring up.

--

Straddling Dakota, his trusty Appaloosa horse, Jacob prepared to ride toward Bluebell. Dakota was a striking horse, with a white coat adorned by a pattern of dark spots across her rump and flanks. Her mane and tail were black, flowing like silk as she moved. Dakota was strong and reliable, a companion Jacob had grown to trust implicitly over the years. He gave the horse a gentle pat on the neck, feeling the powerful muscles ripple beneath his hand.

"Let's go, girl," Jacob murmured, and with a slight nudge of his heels, Dakota began to trot, quickly picking up speed.

The ride to Bluebell took Jacob nearly half an hour. As he approached the town, he could see its modest silhouette against the rising sun. Bluebell was a small town, quaint and peaceful on the surface. The main street was lined with a handful of essential establishments: a general store, a gunsmith, a saloon, and a small church with a steeple that stood as the tallest building in town. The wooden buildings were weathered, their paint chipped and faded from years of exposure to the elements.

The dusty street was already bustling with morning activity. Townsfolk were busy with their daily routines: a woman sweeping the porch of the general store, a couple of children running and laughing, and a woodworker hammering away at a wooden beam, sending dust flying with each strike. The air was filled with the mingling scents of fresh bread from the bakery, leather from the saddle shop, and the omnipresent dust that seemed to settle on everything.

Jacob guided Dakota down the main street, nodding occasionally at the townsfolk who acknowledged him with wary glances. He knew his kind wasn't always welcome, but his years on the road had taught him how to blend in, how to make himself just another part of the background.

He reached the saloon, its doors swinging slightly in the breeze. The sound of piano music and muted conversation spilled out into the street. Jacob dismounted, tying Dakota to a post outside and giving her a reassuring pat. The horse nickered softly, flicking her tail.

"Stay here, girl. I won't be long," Jacob said, though he knew Dakota would wait patiently no matter how long it took.

As he entered the saloon, the familiar scent of tobacco smoke and spilled liquor greeted him. The dim interior was a stark contrast to the bright morning outside. Jacob's eyes quickly adjusted, and he scanned the room for any sign of Nathan and Jonah. He spotted them at a table in the back, surrounded by half-empty glasses. Making his way over, Jacob noticed the two were deep in discussion. Whatever they were discussing, it was serious.

"Morning, boys," Jacob greeted, sliding into an empty chair. "Koen sent me to check on you."

Nathan grunted in response, taking a swig from his glass. "We're just finalizing the details," he said, his voice low.

Jonah leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "Got a good lead on a homestead just outside of town. Rich folks, from the look of it. Could be a nice haul."

After discussing the details of the homestead, Nathan and Jonah excused themselves, their chairs scraping against the wooden floor as they stood up. With a brief nod to Jacob, they made their way out of the saloon, heading back to the camp. Jacob, however, decided to stay back for a bit, feeling the need for a couple of drinks to unwind.