Chapter Ten
Huddled into a corner of the hotel room, a frightened brunette watched her mistress pace the small confined space, wary of speaking for fear of incuring the volitile blonde's wrath. She had learned very early in her employment with the Matthews family to be seen and not heard, unless her mistress granted. To be available with sage advice but always agree with everything the mistress said.
It was a fine and delicately balanced line she walked, but Emily Bowen had many years to become a master.
She could still remember her arrival to the large and rather imposing Boston mansion. After her father died of consumption, her mother had been hired as an upstairs maid in the Matthews household. She had gone from a happy well adjusted ten year old girl to the companion of two eleven year old twins Cassandra and Courtney. Never a more spoiled and self indulged pair of girls had she ever met.
After her mother died, Emily thought she would be dismissed from the household, yet Cassandra had surprisingly begged her parents that she be allowed to remain. At fifteen, Emily was grateful, there wasn't much for a orphan alone in Boston outside of the affluent neighborhoods. Her choices had been an early marriage, the prayer of employment as a kitchen maid, or the streets.
The two had grown closer then, much to the elder twins ire. Cassie shared her lessons, so that Emily would have some education and etiquette. Loaned her dresses and refinery, though out of season for the heiress were just fine for a servant. And finally became a friend.
It was the arranged marriage at her eighteen birthday that drove Cassie away. Emily had been quite hurt that her friend hadn't shared her plans to run away but she understood. Especially after meeting the Quartermaine heir destined to be her husband. Behind the gentleman exterior, Alan Quartermaine Junior was a mean drunk who had been determined to claim Cassie as his own. After the humiliation of Cassie's disappearance, the elder Matthews sister had been forced to wed Alan Junior which was the beginning of the Matthews' downfall.
No one knew that Alan Junior had squandered the Quartermaine forturne, as most societal families in dire straits became adept at hiding their circumstances. After marrying Courtney and gaining control of the Matthews properties and bank accounts, he proceeded to plow through the massive fortune with the same speed and stupidity as he did a bottle of French Brandy.
No one truly cried when Alan Junior finally drank himself into an early grave but Courtney's father had charged her with recouping the family's losses and the only way possible for a woman of Courtney's upbringing to gain wealth was to marry it.
How she regretted showing Courtney the letter from Redemption.
She naively thought Courtney would want news about her sister, yet that letter had been used in a way Emily never would have agreed to had she known otherwise.
Emily flinched as Courtney picked up a bottle of lilac scented lotion and threw it at the wall, shattering the fine glass and sending it's contents spraying across the wall. Just one more thing she would have to clean up. The woman had managed to make the entire room appear as if a tornado had ripped through it. Satiny materials of beautiful multicolor hues were scattered haphazardly across furniture. Toiletries lay in broken waste on the floor.
Strangely a kidskin ankle boot hung drunkenly off the corner of a chair.
"I need a plan, Emily." The blonde spun around, disheleved and irrational, and rather intimidating even in her unmentionables. "The last thing I want is to be tied down to some brat, I had enough of that being married to AJ for twelve years. I have to make the Spencers believe that I'll take the boy back to Boston with me."
"You know," Emily began quietly, squirming yet again when her Mistress turned violent blue eyes on her. "Redemption isn't so bad, perhaps we could just remain here. Cassie found something to like about it."
"Cassie was a fool," Courntey snorted, pushing strands of hair away from her face. "She managed to get herself knocked up but didn't reel the stupid rube in and marry him. While I'm stuck saving the family's reputation back home married to that bastard she foisted off on me."
"It wasn't Cassie's fault that Mr. Matthews decided you should marry Mr. Quartermaine."
"It wasn't Cassie's fault," Courtney mimicked nastily. "She left you behind Emily. I'm the one who kept you on. I'm the one who has been kind enough to allow you to remain in the Matthews household. Not Cassie. I should have your loyalty not her! Besides, she's dead."
How a woman could be so cold blooded about her own sister, Emily would never understand. "Still, I noticed Marshall Spencer seems to be taken with you." The man had managed to find his way to their table for the last three nights for supper and could barely managed to take his eyes off Courtney. "Maybe if-"
"And what about Boston?" Courtney asked her voice growing in hysteria, "Am I supposed to simply give up everything I have there so I can marry a Marshall of all things in the wilds of Wyoming? What about our fortune? What about my position? My guilds and charity work?"
As if she did those things out of the kindness of her heart. "Who says you couldn't continue those things here? From what I understand, Mrs. Spencer, along with the other affluent women of Redemption have a long list of worthy causes. Such as the proceeds from the Autumn dance going toward building the new schoolhouse for the older children to continue their education. I'm sure they could use your generousity and help."
"It isn't the same," the blonde sat on the edge of the bed with a pout more befitting of the eleven year old Emily remembered. "Besides, Mother and Father need me to make a prosperous marriage. I have to stick with my plan. I convince Jason to marry me, so that Wyatt will have a mother and a father."
Giving a firm nod, Courtney moved to the chair in front of the mirror and snapped her fingers. The well known signal for her to begin brushing her hair. Emily rose slowly, still unsure of the blonde's temper and picked up the silver brush from the floor.
"A few threats, and some tears and then we should be able to compromise." A grin began to spread across Courntey's lips, even more frightening than her fury. Emily cautiously ran the brush through the tangled locks, preparing it for the chignon she would style.
"Are you certain about this?" Frankly, Jason Morgan did not look like a man who could be moved by tears or threatened but it was probably wise not to speak those words aloud. Courtney acutally seemed calm now that she was back to her plotting.
If the woman had an ounce of sense, she would gain the Marshall Spencer's attention, marry him and build a life of her own. If she was so determined to move in polite circles, she could befriend Mrs. Spencer and Mrs. Alcazar, they seemed to be important and affluent here in Redemption.
Going after Jason Morgan was going to bring Courtney nothing but trouble and heartache.
"It's going to be fine. By spring, I'll be Mrs. Jason Morgan Spencer, we'll move back to Boston and live in the style of which I was born. We will leave this godforsaken dust trap behind and everyone will be so envious of my dark mysterious and dangerous husband who just happens to have more money than Midas."
Courtney looked down at her fingernails, and Emily was grateful that in her anger she hadn't ruined them. "Besides if Lucky Spencer strikes your fancy so much, perhaps you should go after him. He's certainly not within my class. Could you see him trying to fit in at one of Alexis Cassadine's functions?"
The bark of laughter was just as mean spirited as Courtney's words. Yet neither could Emily imagine Jason Morgan at one of those black tie snooty parties either.
"No," Emily sighed sadly, wondering just how badly this would all end. "No, Mistress, I can't."
ooXXoo
"So what do you think?"
Jason ran his hand across the distended belly of the horse, closing his eyes much as he had many years ago as the familiar knowledge slowly crept back through his mind. He had thought he was only capable of killing these days. Feeling life stir beneath his fingertips reminded him of the man he had left behind.
Part of him stayed cold, behind the unfeeling barrier he had built to not only keep himself safe but sane. That part wanted nothing to do with the emotions his determined mother was trying to stir to life.
It began under the pretense of needing his help, which of course he had seen through right away. Maggie May Morgan knew more about horses than he could ever imagine, though years ago he had felt that he would probably gain that same knowledge one day.
Years ago he had hoped to pass that knowledge on to his children.
Then his mother had used that same hope against him by inviting Wyatt down to the barn as well. Telling him most assuredly, any deviousness in his nature was aquired from this woman. Rather than disappoint the bright look of hope in Wyatt's gaze, he had agreed to follow her down. Ignoring her frown when he strapped on his guns.
Walking down memory lane did not include stupidity.
After Drake's late night visit before heading out to hunt down Ruiz, he knew things were going to get dangerous soon. The last thing he wanted was for his family to pay for the choices he had made. The best he could do for them was keep them safe. Safer than he had Robin.
The horse shook her head, ears alert to their voices but accustomed to human touch. In fact, he would say she was positively preening under the ministrations of his hands.
"She's close," he answered finally, a firm rub across her flank to her thigh. "I wouldn't be surprised if she foaled sometime tomorrow night."
"And I get to help right," Wyatt's eager voice spoke up at his side. "You promised Grandma. You said next foal and I get to help."
"So I did," she nodded, ruffling his tawny hair which earned a rebellious grunt and squirm of disapproval.
He could have told the boy to enjoy those loving touches. The careless ones, so full of love and affection. Those were the ones you missed the most when they were gone. Those were the ones you craved on dark cold lonely nights on the trail with only death as your companion.
"Guess that means you're helping out," she winked with a smile, "I tell you Jason, this one is just as eager as you used to be." Wyatt's head immediately perked to attention, wanting more information about the man he had learned was his father. "By the time he was your age, your father had been through three birthings, determined to know everything so he could have the best horses in the state."
"The country," he murmured without realizing. At two sets of blue eyes exactly like his own were on his face he knew he had spoken that lost dream aloud. "Morgan horses were going to be the best in the country. With Mama's hand-"
"And your determination-" she interrupted.
"We were going to be the best," he nodded slowly. "It was a fine dream."
One that would never come true under his hands. It was too late for his dreams. Especially those about the brown eyed vixen that continued to haunt him each night. Lord but she was vexing. It wasn't sex, hell he could ride into the next town and scratch an itch if need be. Samantha McCall was a confusing mixture of vulnerablity and strength, beauty and intelligence, and the promise to keep any man worth his salt on his toes for the rest of his life.
The differences between her and Robin were striking. Robin was all kindness and sweet. Sam, sultry spice. Since meeting Sam, and with everything he had been through he wondered what he would have in common with Robin now. Sam on the other hand, he just seemed to instinctively know would be a warm welcoming heart for the tired man he was now.
If he was interested. His body certainly was and these emotions his mother seemed determined to force him to face had been piqued. The nightmares told him otherwise. Sam certainly didn't need a man who fell out of bed, desperate for the need of a cheroot to calm the shaking in his hands.
The gun at his waist silenced thoses needs. Sam didn't need a man in her life who had blood on his hands and death darkening his soul.
And the fact that he could be a dead man soon quelled any thoughts of a future his private insanity might have begun fantasizing about. Dead men didn't have futures.
He knew what his mother was trying to do. Pull him back home. To family. To the life he had left behind. Yet none of it, not even the miracle that was his son was possible until Matos was dead. Perhaps then, he'd be worthy of this little boy. Perhaps he'd see if that spark of interest he'd seen bloom in Sam's eyes meant the same as his own.
"If Fancy Face is going to foal soon, then I'm going to need some supplies from town," his mother broke the building silence with her loving voice. It was just her way, knowing his mind was troubled and despite his protests to the contrary, knowing working with the horses would soothe him until he was able to work through his problems. For once he was glad his mother could see into him so well.
"We could go get them," Wyatt offered, with a smile just shy of sneaky. "I mean, I know you were busy, because I saw the apples you were putting up, so it wouldn't be right to stop in the middle of all that when we could ride into town and pick up the supplies for you. Right Jason?"
Everyone in the Morgan-Spencer household knew that when Maggie May was canning fruit, there would be pie for dessert. No one made pie like his Mama. He placed an understanding hand on Wyatt's shoulder, silently assuring the boy he would go along with his little plan.
"It's no trouble, Mama. It would give Wyatt a chance to ride Jilly like he's been trying to all week," Jason smirked, knowing the boy would protest.
"I have not!"
"Sure, and sneaking her sugar cubes, checking her shoes and rubbing her down every night is just your way of being friendly."
"It's a strange barn," Wyatt reasoned, "I didn't want her to be afraid."
"Of course you didn't," his mother agreed with a wise smile, "I bet she's fast though. Fast enough to ride into town and make it back before dinner. Much faster than if I had to ride in myself."
"Just make a list," Jason told her, "We'll saddle up and bring back whatever you need."
For once he didn't think to flinch when a tender hand reached forward to cup his face.
"Jason? Can I ask you something?"
Wyatt looked over at his father, making certain to keep a sure grip on Jilly's reigns. His pleasure and shock at being allowed to ride the horse kept a wide grin on his face for most of the trip into town. He hadn't expected to be allowed Jason's horse, though he certainly had wished. Now sitting in the saddle, he had to restrain the desire to urge the horse into a gallop and race across the stretch of land so he could feel the wind brush against his face. The power of the animal flying.
"Sure, what's on your mind?"
Over the past days, he had spent a great deal of time with the man he was coming to know as his father. Jason was very different from the stories Grandma, Grandpa and Aunt Beth told him. Quiet. Thoughtful. He never talked down to him. Always answered his questions honestly, which had earned Jason an ear full from Grandma when he had asked if he could see his guns.
That day in town when he drew his colt on his Uncle Lucky, man it had been fast. Faster than he could blink almost, like a blur. He had wanted to see if it was the gun that made Jason look so dangerous or if it was the man.
They spent the most time together with the horses, it was just easier to talk that way. Besides, he was learning alot too. Grandma was good with the horses, she was like a miracle with them most of the time and sometimes he just didn't believe he would ever develop the relationship with them that she had.
Then Jason had worked with him with Jilly, and he watched as Jason almost mirrored his Grandma. What was really amazing was the way he took the time to explain what he was doing. Grandma was a girl and sometimes she really didn't want to admit he was growing up. So it was nice when Jason worked with him.
When they both climbed on Kid for the first time for a ride and Jason had pulled him into his arms, Wyatt had to blink fast to clear away the tears that filled his eyes. He had seen his friends and their fathers doing this sometimes and for the first time ever he had the chance to do it with his.
His father.
"There were some rumors at school, some of the older kids were saying some stuff." He really didn't want to talk about it but he really wanted to know. "Stuff about how you're a gunslinger."
Jason pulled up on the reigns, signaling to Kid to halt and waited for him to do the same. For a long moment, he just stared at him, with cool blank eyes that made him want to squirm. "And you want to know if it's true right?"
"Well," of course he did. It wasn't just that he'd heard his father was a gunslinger. He'd heard his Jason Morgan was one of the most dangerous gunslingers alive. And he'd actually seen Jason pull his gun. "I mean-"
"Wyatt, I'm not going to lie to you." He began and Wyatt shut up because he knew whatever Jason was going to say would be important. "Some of the rumors out there about me are true. I am a hired gun. I have collected bounties on wanted criminals."
He paused and let his words fill the air. Then drew in a heavy breath, releasing it slowly. "I've killed men and I've been shot at and nothing about my life should ever be glamorized or prettied up. There are many things I regret about the choices I've made. None more so than never coming back here and discovering I had a son. You're the best thing I've ever done Wyatt. The best part of me and I don't want you to ever forget that, you hear?"
"Yeah," he sighed feeling the clench in his chest twist tight for a moment, then loosen just a bit. "I hear."