Chapter 1

Sheriff Shawn Michaels was sitting in his office when he herad the news of the bank robbery. People of the town were gathering around to see what in the world was going on. He had a rather difficult time getting through the sea of people to actually get inside the bank

"Alright, everyone!," Sheriff Michaels said over the voices of the town folk. "Excuse me! The sheriff is here! There's nothing much to see here. So everyone go on back home or work or whatever you were doing. You may all leave now. Go on!"

Sheriff Michaels began shooing people were gone, he went in search of the man whom owned the bank. He found the owner standing in the doorway of the vault. He was a tall, gangly-looking man in his 50's, gray hair, wire-rimmed glasses.

"Hey, Nelson. What's the scoop?"

"Well other than the obvious of the bank being robbed last night," Nelson started to say. "Whatever was stolen was brought back in it's entirety."

The last statement confused the sheriff and he cocked an eyebrow. "Care to clarify that for me, Nelson?"

"Gladly. Apparently, he was one of them that was behind the robbery last night. He's in the back room if you wish to see him. He simply requested to speak to an authority figure. You."

Sheriff Michaels nodded before asking Nelson to lead the way. The two men approached a room where the door was closed. Nelson opened the door to reveal the long brown-haired man sitting at a table, head hanging low, his fingers locked together behind his head. The young cowboy looked up when he heard the door open. Sheriff Michaels at the young man, whose eyes were full of guilt.

"Would you excuse us, Nelson? Please?"

Nelson left the room without a single word closing the door behind him. Sheriff Michaels walked over to the opposite side of the table and sat down in a chair opposite the man. He eyed him with suspicion before he spoke.

"What's your name, boy?"

"Ambrose," the man said, his voice as soft as a coo of a dove with a hint of raspiness. "Dean Ambrose."

"Mr. Ambrose. Need I remind you of what trouble you're in?"

Dean took a deep breath before answering the sheriff's question. "I realize that, sheriff. I really do. That's why I wanted to try and attempt to make things right by bringing back what's been stolen."

"You also know that I have to arrest you."

"Understood, sir."

Sheriff Michaels leaned forward crossing his arms on the table. "Here's what I don't understand. You want to make things right. What possessed to do such a stupid thing like that?"

"It's like you said. It was a stupid thing to do. 'I'm sorry' I suppose won't make it any better. So the only thing that would make things better is if I give you the names of the other 3 involved, and you slapping the cuffs on this piece of garbage in front of you."

The sheriff slumped back into his chair. He had never met anyone like Dean Ambrose in his life. "You being smart with me, Ambrose?"

"Nope. Just being honest."

Sheriff Michaels huffed a breath before speaking. "You can give me the names of the other 3 individuals when we get back to the jail house. But now..." The sheriff took a pair of handcuffs out of his back jeans pocket. "Stand up."

Dean did as was requested. Sheriff Michaels pulled Dean's arms behind his back and cuffed his wrists. He then turned Dean around so he could look him straight in the eye.

"Not resisting arrest, Ambrose?"

"Because this is what I deserve. I did wrong. I'm better that this. I don't want to tread the same path my uncle tread. I want a home, a job. Maybe even a wife and kids. I want a better life. Cause I fear that if I didn't turn myself in today, I would not have stopped at this bank. It would have progressed further. That's not the life I want for myself. I know I can be better than this. If this is how it starts, then," Dean shrugged his shoulders. "So be it."

"You're a bright young man, Dean Ambrose. Maybe I could help you get your life turned around."

"Why would you help me?"

"Well, for some reason...I believe you."