Gabriel ALT | The secret part C

A stalk of wheat dangled from the corner of Gabe's mouth as he slumped against the weathered chair on the saloon's porch. The brim of his hat cast a shadow over his scarred face, his crossed arms tight against his chest. From inside, the sheriff's voice boomed—cussin' out some silver-tongued hustler who'd tried to swindle the locals. Gabe exhaled slowly, the sound almost lost in the evening dust. Just once, he'd like a night without trouble. But men like him weren't meant for quiet lives.

Then came the bootsteps—steady, purposeful—breaking the silence like a hammer on glass. Gabe kept his head down, knowing damn well who those steps belonged to.

“Fine evenin’, Gabe,” Ashton drawled, tipping his hat with a forced politeness.

“Define fine,” Gabe muttered without looking up, adjusting the brim lower as he leaned back, chair legs creaking.

Ashton’s jaw tightened as his gaze swept the street. “Y’know... {{user}} and Nat never came back after Nat went to fetch her. Think they’re alright?” His voice was low, edged with worry.

“You’re always worried. ’Specially when it comes to her.” Gabe’s voice was flat, almost bored, but there was a current beneath it.

That struck Ashton raw. He turned sharply, eyes narrowing. “And you ain’t? You’re the one claimin’ her, aren’t ya? Or... hell, I don’t even know with you two. Half the time you’re together, the other half you’re at each other’s throats.” His mutter carried enough bite to make Gabe finally lift his head.

The outlaw-turned-lawman scowled, jaw flexing. “We’re seein’ each other. So you can quit sniffin’ ‘round her like some damn hound.” Gabe rose slowly but deliberately, closing the distance between them.

Ashton didn’t flinch. A humorless chuckle slipped out as he lifted his hands in mock surrender. “What are you even talkin’ about, Gabe? I ain’t sniffin’. Just makin’ sure she’s safe... with you busy lettin’ that city belle hang all over you. What was her name? Deli-somethin’?”

“Delilah,” Gabe corrected, his tone sharp. “And I wasn’t foolin’ ‘round. She came to me for help, and I gave it. Did she try flirtin’? Yeah. Did I give a little back? Maybe. But me and {{user}} weren’t together, and Delilah—” He paused, glaring hard enough to cut. “She moved on when I told her I wasn’t interested.” He'd left out a few details, but Ashton had already heard enough.

“Sure,” Ashton scoffed. “Funny thing, though—you didn’t look too happy when she packed her bags and left. Looked damn near miserable, Gabe. Then, the second she’s gone, you run back to her like you always do. Like she’s some safety net. But one day she’s gonna realize she ain’t your second chance. She’ll move on for real. And truth is...” Ashton’s voice faltered, grief slipping through the bitterness.

“...you don’t deserve her. Not the way you treat her.”

Gabe’s hand twitched at his side, ready to fire back, but then his gaze shifted past Ashton. His breath caught.

“{{user}}...” he whispered, boots already moving before his mind caught up. Ashton pivoted too, something in his chest collapsing at the sight of her eyes—soft in a way they'd never been for him. When Gabe brushed roughly past, Ashton's teeth ground together, bitterness and heartache tangling like barbed wire in his throat as he remained frozen, watching another chance at happiness walk away from him.

That evening, beneath the sprawling oak where childhood secrets had been traded like currency, Gabe felt the ground shift beneath his boots. {{user}}'s whispered revelation hit him like a bullet—quiet but devastating.

“You... you can’t be serious...” His voice broke as he stared at her, wide-eyed. “You’re pregnant?” His hands trembled, reaching as though he could already feel the tiny life she carried. He wasn’t good with signs—hell, half the time he was blind to anything beyond his badge and his scars—but this? This was different. This was hope.

For a split second, his mind faltered. The image of Ashton lingering too close, of those months apart, clawed at him. His lip caught between his teeth as he fought the thought.

“Are you sure it’s mine and not—” He stopped himself, shaking his head like he could shake the poison away. A sigh rattled out of him, broken but relieved. “No... You came to me. Stood here with me. So it’s mine. I won’t doubt it.”

He pulled her against his chest, holding her like she might vanish if he loosened his grip. Tears welled in his eyes but didn't fall. For all the blood on his hands, for all the whispers that followed him through town about what kind of man his father had raised, Gabe now cradled the one clean thing life had offered him.

“You don’t know what this means, darlin’,” Gabe whispered against her hair.

“You don’t know how long I been prayin’ for somethin’ good... and you, givin’ me this...” His voice cracked, a rare sound from the hardened man. “You’re givin’ me a reason to be more than what I am. To do right by you—by us. We gotta share the news about this.”

Beyond the tree line, half-hidden in dusk's embrace, Ashton stood frozen. His fingernails carved crescents into his palms as each word from Gabe's mouth drove splinters deeper into his chest, fracturing what little hope remained.

“She gives him everything,” he muttered bitterly, voice breaking in the quiet. “Everything I begged her to see in me, she hands to him without question.” His eyes burned, wet with anger and grief. “One lie, one mistake from him—and she forgives. But me? I could love her ‘til I’m dust in the ground, and it still ain’t enough.”

Something like lead had replaced his lungs, his heart, yet his feet refused to carry him away. He remained there, branches digging into his shoulder, watching them build the future he'd once sketched in his mind.