Rated: M

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them

Dead Or Alive

by: Danigirl

Chapter Four

When you're brought into this world, They say you're born in sin
Well at least they gave me something, I didn't have to steal or have to win
Well they tell me that I'm wanted. Yeah, I'm a wanted man
I'm a colt in your stable
I'm what Cain was to Abel
Mister catch me if you can

Bon Jovi - Blaze of Glory

So that was his father.

This morning when his Grandma woke at her usual time, Wyatt had lay in his bed listening to the sounds of her moving around the silent house just like always. He didn't find it odd that he tended to wake so early, it just felt right. Usually he waited until she brought the horses out into the corral before he got up and walked over to the window to watch. He loved watching her with the horses; there was something beautiful about it, though he would never admit to something like that out loud.

He was already teased enough.

Today when he rolled over, something had whispered inside him that this day was going to be different. It had tingled under his skin, making him both excited and uncomfortable, and he couldn't figure out why. He had lain in the bed waiting for the familiar neighs of the horses but when they didn't come he climbed from bed to his window to see what was wrong. That's when he saw him.

When he watched his grandmother throw her arms around this stranger, he had known exactly who the man was. The love and the relief, the tears, had told him just who had ridden into the ranch. For a long time he watched, unsure of how he felt about it. Stomach clenched tight, almost sick, but he watched trying to get this man's measure only to find it impossible.

The conflicting stories about Jason Morgan spun wildly in his head.

His family told him about the Jason Morgan who had a kind heart, a loving smile, and a helping hand for anyone who needed it. They told him the lady that Jason was going to marry had been murdered and he left to find the men who did it, that's why he didn't know he had a son. No one told him why his mother wasn't the same lady as this Robin, but a lady name Cassie Matthews, but from the insults whispered about him he figured it out real quick.

Then there were the stories about Jason Morgan, the gunslinger. The fastest hands, the dead accurate aim, and the cold blooded killer that criminals cringed in fear of and respectable folk whispered about in both revulsion and dread.

He had so many questions and so much anger burning inside him it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He didn't want this man to be his father, yet when he looked into his eyes, all he wanted was for this man to be his father. It felt disloyal to Grandma and Grandpa, because they were his family, they were the ones who loved him, not this distant stranger whose arrival was already kicking up trouble.

Confused, Wyatt walked over to the new horse in the stable, digging out the sugar cube he kept a stash of hidden to feed the horses. He had a feeling that Grandma knew that he sneaked treats to the horses, but she didn't seem to mind. Besides, she was always sneaking him treats.

This horse was beautiful, strong and probably quick as lightening because all mustangs were fast. She was a nice gleaming brown, but he could tell that if the sun hit her coat just right, it would burn with red like a flame. "Hey there," he murmured, lifting a hand that always seemed too large for a boy his age for the horse to scent, waiting until she butted against him before he rubbed a hand down the bridge of her nose.

He had looked at the stranger's, his father's hands, and seen his own. The same wide palm, long fingers, except the man's hands were older, slightly calloused and tanned. A man's hands. Hands that his would one day grow to be.

"Well, he can pick good horses," Wyatt muttered, feeding the mustang the cube. He leaned his cheek against the horse brushing a hand along her neck and closed his eyes.

So much of himself in that stranger, he realized. The same hair, even that way it was all messy when it grew out too long and he needed a trimming. The face that he knew his own would mature into. He thought Grandma was just saying they were alike because the man was her son and she loved him.

Actually seeing it was like that time he had jumped into the creek like an idiot on that hot day right after the last snow. The water had hit his skin like sharp knives stabbing into his skin, so cold that it knocked the breath right out of him.

That's how he had felt looking into his father's eyes.

When their eyes met, they weren't cold like all the stories said they would be. They didn't make him afraid, or wonder how many people he had killed. They made him feel like a little baby who wanted to throw his arms around him and cry. What he would cry for, he didn't know, but the tears had burned in the back of his throat just the same.

"Her name's Jilly."

Wyatt jerked around like a thief who had been caught stealing, to find the man standing there in the shadows like some kind of ghost. Feeling stupid for practically bawling all over the man's horse, he climbed down from the gate, and tried to pretend like he was his Grandpa. He shoved his hands into his pockets and lifted a shoulder as if he didn't care.

He was pretty certain that the man could hear his heart hammering in his chest, because it sounded like the hooves of a stamped echoing in his ears. Only he said nothing, just crossed the stables until they were facing each other and stared for a long time making him want to squirm.

The man didn't lean down, like some grownups did, he just tilted his head a bit and watched him. Well, he could just watch him too, if that's what he wanted because he wasn't saying anything. Even if he had to bite the inside of his jaw to keep from rambling off like a fool. Just when he thought the silence would kill him, something just short of amazing happened.

The side of the man's mouth lifted and his eyes softened briefly before going back behind that blank wall. "You like horses," he asked taking him by surprise and before Wyatt could think he was bobbing his head up and down.

"Your Grandmother taught me everything I know about horses," he leaned over and brushed a hand down Jilly's nose and the horse butted back affectionately. "That's how I was able to recognize the good in Jilly here."

The man's voice was low, soothing, yet carried a unique force that he recognized from Grandma's. Wyatt curled his hands into fists in his pocket, and turned his head away, pretending not to be affected. Trying to conceal how his stomach clenched eagerly to hear him speak again.

"She told me that you're good with the horses too," he spoke again, and just as fast blew out a rough breath and dragged a hand over his face, back through his hair. "I don't know what to say to you," he admitted and Wyatt felt his eyes widen in disbelief.

"I swear I didn't know," a look of grief flickered across his face then was gone, "If I had known about you Wyatt, I swear I would have come back." And through that stillness that he had witnessed during breakfast something almost imperceptible crept in. "I never would have allowed my son to go through what I did growing up."

And as they looked at each other, Wyatt realized that this was the one person who did understand how bad things could be sometimes. How the other kids sometimes called him bastard, or picked on him because his mother was dead and his father was gone. How some adults were cruel speaking at him as if he weren't worth their attention, or worse about him as if he wasn't even in the room?

"I know you have no reason to believe that," the man nodded once, "No reason to trust anything that I have to say, but I am sorry Wyatt. More sorry than you can ever know. I know you have a good home here with your Grandmother and Grandfather. They love you."

Wyatt's voice seemed to have dried up in his throat because when he opened his mouth to speak nothing came out. Though he didn't know what he would have said if he managed the words anyway. Wyatt dry swallowed, blinking as he watched the man's hand lift toward his face then stop as if he had changed his mind and lowered it back to his side.

"I hope one day you can forgive me for not being the father you deserved," the man moved to step away and finally he found his voice.

"Wait."

"Yeah."

"Are, are," he fumbled and wanted to growl in frustration at the nerves that kept jumping in his stomach, "Are you leaving?"

"I was thinking I might stay for awhile."

"Okay," he blurted awkwardly, then cleared his throat and pushed his shoulders back, "Uh, yeah, okay."

"You think maybe we could spend some time together, I'd like to get to know you."

"Me?" he squeaked out.

And the side of the man's mouth lifted again, "Yeah, you. That is if you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind. I'm," he stopped unsure of how to ask, "I don't know what to call you." Cause he couldn't keep calling him the man, but he didn't know if he even wanted to call him his father so that left all the names he'd heard other children calling their father's out.

"Why don't we start with Jason first, and we'll gone on from there. Is that alright with you?"

He nodded anxiously, "Yeah, that's fine." He paused, and then tried it, "That's fine Jason."

"I'm going into town," Jason lifted a shoulder much like he had, "You want to ride in with me?"

"Are you taking Jilly?" He would love to see the mustang run, could almost see her legs flying across the ground.

"Not today, Jilly has earned a rest. I'm going to take out one of the others. You want to help me pick one out."

"Sable's a good horse," Wyatt began, "She's a lot like Jilly, except she has a bit of a temper and doesn't like just anyone riding her. She's Grandma's horse. She's got a colt that I ride sometimes, his name is Jack. Grandpa has a grey named Ghost, but Grandpa doesn't like to ride, he prefers taking the buckboard when he goes into town."

"Luke never did like riding," Jason chuckled softly, "So which do you suggest?"

Amazed to be given the choice, he immediately answered, "Kid." A high pitched neigh rang through the air, making him laugh, "That's him."

"Then we should get started if we want to get back her before dinner." Jason moved toward the saddle hanging next to Jilly's stall to pull it down. Together they walked to Kid's stall and Wyatt took a deep breath and tried to relax. Yes, he was going into town with his father, didn't mean he had to act like a little kid about it.

"Can we go see Aunt Beth while we're there?"

"That's fine," came the easy reply.

"Umm, Jason," Wyatt started and his father turned around, pinning him with those eyes. Now that he had his full attention, he didn't know if he wanted to say the words that wanted to pour out. So he settled on, "I'm glad you came back. Cause you know Grandma missed you, and so did Aunt Beth."

"I missed them too," he nodded, his hand lifting again only to pause but this time Wyatt took a nervous step forward, his face slipping into the palm, as he looked away.

The heat from Jason's hand made his heart slam even harder against his ribs so he bit his lip and waited to see what would happen next. The large hand cupped his cheek more gentle than he would have expected from a man with the reputation of a gunslinger. It brushed back across his head, and through his hair to finally land on his shoulder.

"I'm glad I came home too Wyatt."

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Sam set the saucer holding the thick slice of coffeecake and the cup of tea in front of her customer with a smile and was thanked with a bright smile in return. "Thank you," the soft friendly voice almost sighed with anticipation, "I can't tell you how long I've been waiting for this."

"The fact that you practically dragged me from the house this morning, Mi Corazon, proved just how eager you were for your bit of sweet today." The dark haired man smiled indulgently over at his wife.

The couple were a part of her usual customers. Beth and Lorenzo Alcazar lived in what little society Redemption had. Originally Beth Spencer, daughter to the cattle dynasty owned by Luke and Maggie May Spencer, and Lorenzo Alcazar a wealthy businessman originally from Spain who owned the bank here in Redemption and several more in other states, they made a perfect couple. Dark haired, good looks, Beth's petite stature complimented Lorenzo and where they could have had the same snobbish attitude as many wealthy people Sam had the misfortune of meeting, they were genuinely nice.

Lorenzo helped her and Zander open the Evening Star and the Sundown, while Beth had opened her home to Sam and Dusty so they could become acquainted with everyone in town. Beth even helped with Kristina's christening. While Dusty was her sister and best friend, Sam could honestly count Beth Alcazar as a friend as well.

"Well, you have to admit," Beth smiled widely after taking a bite of her treat, "Dusty makes the best coffeecake in all of Redemption, how are we supposed to resist?" She rubbed a hand over the gentle swell of her stomach with obvious love, and Lorenzo placed his hand over hers, his devotion so clear that Sam had to bite back a sigh.

It seemed everyone around her lately was madly in love.

This was Beth and Lorenzo's third child, she had confided in Sam that she was hoping for a little girl this time after her two boys Cameron and Diego. Sam often wondered how Beth found the energy, between her two boys, teaching school and the social obligations but then Sam remembered Maggie May Spencer and realized where Beth's unlimited fount of energy came from.

Maggie May was a woman to aspire to. Beautiful, confident, smart and kind. Yes, her husband Luke ran one of the wealthiest ranches in the state, but Maggie May had her horses that people from miles around came to buy. There were rumors about a son that had run off ten years ago and him turning out to be some gunslinger.

Until Beth actually confirmed, one way or another, she would just ignore them. She knew Beth had a brother named Jason, because Maggie May was raising his son Wyatt but other than a few whispers, and recollections about a horrible bank robbery, people tended to be respectful of Maggie May and not speak about him.

"So Sam," Beth caught her attention, "Have you given any thought to joining the planning committee for the Autumn Festival?"

Her smile vanished to be replaced with exasperation, "I told you, I don't want to sit around sipping tea with a bunch of old women who would just as easily cross the street than speak to me." Beth had been on her about this since the second week of September.

"You can't make me suffer through this alone," Beth pleaded, "It's bad enough I was roped into this by Mama, I need someone to,"

"Suffer with you," Sam chuckled at Beth's depressed expression.

"Yes!" she laughed, not even bothering to pretend, "It's not so bad you know. Mama has the meetings out at the house and the reason she roped me in this year is because the really bad old biddies can't participate on the committee anymore."

"Beth, I really don't think," Sam paused at her pouty lipped expression, "That's not fair."

"Don't worry," Lorenzo laughed sympathetically, "She uses the muffin face on me all the time when she's trying to guilt me into something."

"You're married to her," Sam pointed out.

"Come on," Beth grinned, "Please Sam, for the sake of my unborn child and my two sons, save my sanity."

Sam rolled her eyes at the exaggeration, "Well in that case," she drawled and Beth reached across the table and grabbed her hands to squeeze them tightly.

"Thank you," the gratitude on her face sincere, "You don't know how relieved I am, because I was dreading," her voice trailed off as she tilted her head to the side and stared out the window.

"Mi Corazon," Lorenzo placed a concerned hand on her shoulder, as he looked out the window trying to see what she was looking at, "What is wrong?"

"Wyatt," Beth murmured, and pushed back from her seat and stood, as the blood drained from her face, "Oh my God," she whirled away, her skirts swishing around her ankles as she ran out the restaurant.

Jason heard the feminine voice scream his name just an instant before Wyatt tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. Before he could prepare, he found himself with his arms full of a weeping woman. Startled he pulled back to see the familiar face, the sweet blue eyes and the smile that had captured a small piece of his heart from the day she was born.

"Ella?"

"Oh my God," He finally understood what she kept repeating over and over. Then she gripped his face in her hands, tears pouring down her cheeks. "Jason is it really you?"

Gone was the teenaged girl in pigtails and in her place was a woman, her long dark hair just like their mother's pulled up in an elegant twist and dressed neatly in a deep violet walking dress made of a crisp rustling sateen and embroidered with delicate ivory lace and most importantly, with child.

Before he could say it was him she had thrown herself in his arms again, squeezing his neck so tight he could barely breath. "You came home," she wept against his neck, "You finally came home."

Her joy made him feel awful, almost as bad as when his mother had done the same thing to him earlier but not nearly as horrible as when Wyatt had ducked into his hand back in the barn. Damned that had almost killed him. The tentative way his son had reached out to him, unsure of how he felt about the man who he discovered was his father but needing something that the boy probably didn't even understand.

Things had just grown more complicated than he could ever have anticipated. He had the law after him, a man who needed to die for killing his friends, a family who he hadn't realized just how much he missed and a son that he desperately needed to be a father to.

Any plans he had for traveling to Canada just went to hell in a hand basket.

Sam held the length of her skirts out of the way as she hurried after Lorenzo out of the restaurant after Beth wondering what the had just happened. One moment they were talking about the Autumn Festival committee and the next she said something about her nephew and took off as if she had seen a ghost.

Lorenzo stopped just at the steps, in a state of shock as well, and she heard him murmur, "Jason?"

Who was Jason? Then the memory cleared, Jason, Beth's brother? She saw Wyatt standing beside them, the tall tawny haired man holding a weeping Beth in his arms, his face bleak with sorrow and eyes so damned startling they made her heart race.

He set Beth down on the ground and she said something that didn't quite reach to them, but in the next instant her hand reached out, cracking across his face so loudly that it drew the attention of everyone on the street. Sam heard Lorenzo chuckle, and start toward his wife in a determined stride as Beth planted her hands on her hips in a very familiar stance and began shouting.

Something drew her forward, when ordinarily, she would have gone back inside. This was obviously family business, and had nothing to do with her, but there was just something about this man that she needed to see for herself. Some distant memory tugged at the back of her mind at that wide legged stance. She watched as Lorenzo finally reached his wife, and placed a tempering arm around her waist but Beth continued to fuss.

"And to think all this time we've been worried sick about you and you just show up here after ten years! Ten years Jason! With barely one word! So what do you have to say for yourself?" she shrieked, while the show Beth was putting on was amusing to the crowd of on lookers, Sam could hear the hurt beneath that layer of fury. The tears on her face weren't from joy anymore but pain and disappointment.

"Ella," he began but she held a hand up.

"Don't call me that," she shot back, "My big brother Jase called me Ella," she waved her fingers at him, "I don't know who you are anymore, so you don't get to call me that. Not until you explain to me," her voice broke as a fresh wave of tears burst free, "Not until you explain how you could do this to us." She turned into Lorenzo's arms, muffling her tears against his chest.

"My wife's a little emotional now that she's with child," Lorenzo spoke softly.

"I am not emotional!" Beth shouted and pushed Lorenzo away to glare at both men.

Just when Sam thought things couldn't get any worse, Lucky came rushing out of the Marshall's office. Star gleaming in the sunlight and ready to play lawman for his half sister, he seemed to bristle with righteous indignation. He took one look at the scene, at Beth and as usual leapt to the wrong conclusions. His face twisted with anger as he stalked forward, and when he was mere steps away he reached for the revolver strapped to his waist.

The next instant was so unbelievable, that Sam thought she had blinked and missed it. One moment the stranger named Jason was standing there, like a statue carved in granite, his face blank of any emotion as he watched Beth weep and rage at him. The only way Sam knew that he was affected was that despair she had glimpsed in his eyes. For one second he had been unable to conceal it in that sky blue gaze.

Then his brow flickered, and in a blur his hand moved and the next instant the gun she had seen strapped to his leg was in his hand and pointed toward Lucky. It was impossible for someone to move that fast.

Her heart slammed frantically against her ribs as the memory exploded in her mind like dynamite.

"You're supposed to be a peaceful rancher," the drunken man with dirty blonde hair slurred as he tried to crawl away. The still dead body of his companion on the ground next to him had cleared away most of the alcohol that blurred his common sense.

If he had been a little more sober, he would have realized that he was staring down death and it was time to pay his toll.

"You killed her," came the dark husky voice. "She was sweet and innocent and you killed her."

Sam tried to huddle deeper into the shadows so no one could see her. She had slipped out of Le Desirez tonight after her last song at the piano needing a breath of fresh air. And to get away from the last man that had tried to convince her to join him upstairs. Now part of her wished she had because if the man holding the gun saw her, she had no doubt that she would be as dead as the other man on the ground was.

As dead as this one begging soon would be.

"So do it," the blonde man spat out, "You've chased us across three states to kill us, so do it you fucking bastard." Before he could scream more, the loud blast of the Colt echoed through the passageway and the man's head jerked once before he collapsed to the ground.

The stranger slipped the gun into the holster at his waist and she heard him murmur in a voice so anguished it made her stomach twist, "I'm so sorry Robin."

Then he turned around and pinned her with eyes so blue, so intense that she gasped lightly in wonder. Whoever this Robin woman was, he had loved her. Loved her enough to chase down the men who had killed her. Loved her enough to kill them, knowing that he would probably be sent to prison for it. Sam felt her stomach knot, she was actually trembling as she contemplated having a man who loved her that way. Grief ravaged his gorgeous face, agony made that sensual mouth thin, his nostrils flare, and sorrow bent his glorious figure beneath its weight.

Where she had been afraid, she now just wanted to heal. Something in his eyes made her want to reach out and heal the misery she saw there. Their eyes held for a long moment then he finally spoke and his words broke her heart because he had to know they stood in the passageway to a brothel and even in his grief there was gentleness in his voice.

"Go back in side ma'am. A good woman like you doesn't need to be soiled by death."

How was she to know years later she would be faced once again with the only man that had made her wonder?

How was she to know that years later he would be seconds from killing the man who had proposed to her just days before?

And he still made her blood race.

And the desolation that surrounded him still broke her heart.