Chapter Text
The cowboy life wasn’t all what it cracked up to be, Liam of all people would know that.
After all, the memory of his biological father still burned in his mind. He didn’t remember his face, no, what was burned into his brain was the smell, alcohol mixed with dirt and the faint smell of sheep. Everyday when that man came back to their rickety wooden house, his mother would rush to hide him in a closet as she stood to take the brunt of ‘a shitty workday’ anger. Liam would know to keep quiet, let the man forget his existence.
Curling up in that tiny space, even as a child, he knew an anger was brewing inside of him as well. An anger that would soon make him lash out, made his existence too loud, too noticeable for the man. Whenever he lost control of himself, he could only feel that blinding rage, too much for even an adult to handle, let alone a child. He would know of, could almost sense, the beating to come because of that outrage. And the sinking, nauseating feeling of guilt when he spotted the new bruises blooming across his mother’s skin from when she stepped in to shield him from that monster.
When he’d woken up one morning to find that the man had taken off, he was honestly glad.
Then his mother had remarried, his father was a nice man. He had smelled of dirt and sheep too, and sometimes even alcohol. And their wooden home still stayed rickety. But his father didn’t bring home hurt and guilt. With him after everyday’s work is caring calloused hands, warm smiles and every so often a bouquet of wild flowers to brighten up the space. His mother’s bruises would eventually fade and so did his resentment towards that life, only his anger still stayed simmering under his skin. He was never rid of it completely, the guilt that followed it never left either. But with his new family, it was easier to deal with.
Until one day, his father didn’t come home. Instead, in his place was a strange man, saying how there’d been an accident at work and he couldn’t come home anymore. Liam spent that whole night consoling his mother.
A year later, she too left him, passed away from melancholia.
The day of her funeral the sun was nowhere to be seen in the sky. Liam was left standing alone, eyes stinging as he stared at her grave. The kind-hearted townsfolk who have organized the event have already left. None of them offer to take him in, the whole town is poor all around, chipping in to set up a funeral is one thing, taking a scarred child into their homes is an entirely different thing.
But when none of the good people decided to help him, there were always the more dubious characters.
He remembered standing there, 12 years old, feeling the burden of the world on his small shoulders. Where will he go, what will he eat, what will he do…
“Hey, kid! That’s your mother who’s dead?”
Liam turned around to see two older kids who were standing from a distance, he could feel his fists clenched by his sides.
“Stiles! You can’t say that!”
One of the kids said as they moved closer to him.
“I’m so sorry about my friend. I’m Scott, Scott McCall, this is Stiles Stilinski. We’ve heard about you and your mother and… we’re so sorry for your lost, are you alright?”
Scott’s voice had sounded not much older than his, and definitely a lot more younger than all the nice town folks, what it had sounded like was genuine, unguarded concern. So Liam brought his fist up, not to swing blindly at whatever’s in front of him, but to clumsily wipe at his own tears.
“No…” Liam answered, he could hear his voice cracking horribly as another sob threatened to pour out of his throat.
The warmth of a hug enveloped him, he muffled his cries into the coarse fabric of Scott’s shirt.
“We’re so, so sorry Liam. I can’t promise you a good life, but what we can promise you is a family, do you want to go with us?”
“We con people, kid,” Stiles added on the sideline while bringing a hand up to pat at Liam’s head comfortingly “it’s not a clean job but it pays a hell of a lot better than cowboys herding sheeps. You stay with us and on most days you can eat ‘til your heart contends, sounds good?”
All three children standing in the clearing that day, two of them tried so clumsily but earnestly in their own way to help the young child in need of support.
And being that young child Liam could only nod.
True to Scott and Stiles’ words, Liam had got a family again, a family of conmen that was good enough at their jobs to feed all of them, and more, each day. The group of them consisted of six children, all of them orphans who got picked up on different walks of life by Scott and Stiles, who were the leaders of the whole gang. The other four were Allison, Malia, Mason and Liam.
With Stiles and Mason as the masterminds and the rest of them as executors, they have pulled off quite a few impressive cons. From simply pickpocketing to the much more complicated ones (such as that whole scheme of selling soap bars with some of them containing prize money, only for those particular ones to be bought by members of the group, which eventually resulted in bullets flying as most of their ventures do).
But by and large, when they were old enough, their most profitable schemes had always been those of a romantic nature. After preparation and romance, they can ask for whatever they want from their wealthy lovers.
In fact, their schemes have been so successful as to earn them a reputation with the people in this line of work, which had all culminated in…
“Lydia Martin!”
Stiles says determinedly, hand pointing at the blurry picture of a young woman from a paper clipping, illuminated by the small candle he’s holding dangerously closed to the board. The picture in question is pinned up amongst a shitload of strings and other newspaper clippings, the usual scene of a scheme in the making, though this one seems to be the most complicated one by far.
They are all staying at the upper floor of Deaton’s saloon, a trusted friend of Scott. At one corner of the room are Scott and Allison curling up together, Liam sits in the opposite corner. Malia is leaning onto the door. Stiles stands on the left of the trusty scheming board as Mason sits on the chair to the right.
Liam is trying to focus on the paper clippings and whatnot, he knows this is a big deal, possibly the biggest deal they’ll ever have. But despite that or maybe because of that, his brain just refuses to cooperate with him, stuck somewhere between debilitating doubt and overwhelming stress that make him feel like he could barely hold his guts inside of him. Either that or he hasn’t fully woken up yet, which is just as likely considering the sky is still a dark blue with only a smidgen of light. Why does the Martin lady have to travel so early?
“This is the con of the century people, come on, last time revision!”
An unanimous groan comes from everyone inside of the room, sans Stiles, who just ignores the scene and points at the blurry picture again. Liam’s hand fiddles with the brim of the hat in front of him, keeping his mind off of spiraling.
“Come on people, look alive, Lydia Martin!”
As almost always, it’s Scott who comes to the rescue, a sheepish grin on his face as he recounts what all of them have been hearing non-stop for the past week, “Daughter of the wealthy Martins, merchant family, they control all the market place and the money influx.”
“Damn right! And here?”
He points to a cut-out blurb.
“Her twenty-fourth birthday.” Allison helps out next to Scott, who shoots his wife an appreciative smile “The first time she’d come back to America from France just in time for her twenty-fourth birthday. So she’s organizing it right on the estate and open invitations to all the merchant families on this side of America, making it a two-week event for all business ventures to have the chance to expand their businesses.”
“Yep! And the chance for us to do a little business of our own, speaking of which?”
Stiles prompts, looking pointedly at Malia, whose eyes are darting wildly from Stiles to the door and back, like some kind of feral animal sensing a trap.
Mason pipes up from where he was sitting, voice laces with exhaustion, even the dim candlelight and his dark complexion couldn’t hide the pronounced eyebags, “We will pose as a well-traveled business, trading expensive furs of exotic animals, courtesy of Malia and Deaton, travel back from Asia and bring with them some actual exotic animals. The furs will be sure to entice Martin as it is well-known that she’s very interested in fashion.”
“Bingo!” Stiles hollers, “Next up… drumroll please, our casanova!”
A cacophony of sounds rustle up as heads turn. Suddenly, all the pairs of eyes in the room are on Liam.
His own eyes widen in response as Liam freezes up. Then, breathing out a deep sigh, the words roll off of his tongue thanks to muscle memory, “I’m the young upstart of the family, handling the business side in America, wild and brash, she’s the well-learned heiress of the most powerful merchant family in the west, poised and elegant, really sell the romance. And once I’ve secured this marriage con, we’re set for life.”
Liam can feel everyone’s gazes, still on his face. They’ve been doing that now, the worried glances, ever since it’s set that Liam would be the main executor of this incredibly important con, one that could change all of their lives forever. He knows that it’s more because they’re worried for him rather than the con, but it’s still equal part frustrating as it is heart-warming.
Normally, Scott or Allison would be the ones in the gang to handle such an important mark. But considering the specific requirements of a marriage con, the fact that they’re already married to each other kinda became a problem. And as luck would have it, Malia’d managed to find a lover whilst travelling through Japan, a girl named Kira, so she’s out too as far as anyone’s concerned. Which leaves only Liam.
It’s not even that he’s not good at conning people. Sure, Scott has natural charisma and an ineffable goodness about him. Allison has mystique, an air of maturity about her that people couldn’t help but be drawn in. What Malia has is just pure, unadulterated, heated confidence that it’s hard to ignore.
Liam is hard to ignore too… though usually for an entirely different reason. He has been able to coast off on his boyish looks and adequate flirting just fine, a few daughters here and there, one or two sons sometimes, but his specialty has always been more card tricks and shootouts rather than romances.
“Liam? You’re still good?” asks Scott, probably for the hundredth time this week.
Liam shrugs, “We’ve come this far. I might as well do the damn thing. Can’t let all of our planning go to waste just ‘cause I got cold feet last second.” Scott’s whole expression tells him all of that doesn’t really matter anymore if he went and got himself arrested or shot by one of Martin’s people. But they have been having this conversation for quite a few times now that Liam doesn’t want to start it all over again.
“Better not.” Stiles cut in, holding his pocket watch close to the nearest light source, “It’s time to go. Better start gearing up, people. Me and Mason will meet back up with you guys at the estate.”
At that, Allison reaches for her buffalo rifle and begins to load up the deadly weapon, that thing can shoot as far as 15 hundreds yards away. Malia sighs out a relieved ‘finally’ on her way to pick up one of the scarfs they left lying haphazardly on a table. She ties it around her face, handing another two to Scott. One for him, one for Allison. Later on, they only need to hide their hair under some hat to effectively conceal their identities.
Liam already had his outfit on, something nice enough to signify wealth but also rough up enough to sell their story of wild romance. His hand absentmindedly goes to flick up the coat he has on, fingers resting on the cool exterior of the familiar double-barreled shotgun currently residing next to his belt. It can almost count as something comforting. There’s a kind of reliance he could place on that gun right now that he’s sure is mostly nonsensical. All that’s left is to put on the cowboy hat in front of him. He moves to grab for the hat, but before his fingers can touch the brim, someone else already has their hand on it.
Mason shoots him a sympathetic smile while sitting down on the chair in front of him, arms slung over the backrest, “You look like you could be throwing up right now.”
Liam slums back into his own chair, the wooden structure creaks pitifully under his weight. Of course, Mason would understand him best, “Not just right now.”
“It’s a big job.” His best friend’s voice turns wistful, “But you know who’s always gonna be on your side.”
“God?” scoffs Liam.
Mason leans forward, “Better. Me.” Ok, that gives him a chuckle. Mason flashes his own pearly whites, “There’s the charm that would win over the fancy lady. Take it easy alright? You got this, we’ve been running this over for weeks. And if push comes to shove, there’s always more bars of soap to sell, no need to sweat it.”
“Gonna have to see about that.” Apprehension remains in mind, but some of the tension leaves Liam’s shoulder, “If I blow this shit up, my face will be plastered all over the place. Then I’m as good as dead to any of our future business.”
Mason plops the hat on Liam’s head, smushes down the dirty blond hair into his field of vision, “Don’t worry about that, we’re flexible. We have always figured something out.”
“Gonna have to take your word for that.” Liam flicks his hat up, just in time to look out the window and see the sun has peaked over the horizon. Turning back, Mason gives him an encouraging nod, and Liam nearly feels sure about this mission for the first time since he’d heard of it, “Thanks, man.”
“Anytime.”
Squinting his eyes under the boiling heat, Liam stares out into the barren land. Sundance nickers, head raised, his front legs constantly pawing in impatience.
Liam shushes, one hand smoothes over the horse’s dusty white layer of hair, “Easy, boy.”
His other hand held onto the rough leather rein connecting to Sundance’s bridle a little harder, grounding himself somewhat in this moment. His own patience is threatening to run thin, he feels as if a piece of coal is burning through his stomach in anticipation. And he’s regretting not letting Mason cut his hair.
After a little while longer, he finally spots the carriage, four horses at the front, speeding across the land, leaving a trail of dust behind. Quite a few yards from them were two other horses, carrying Scott and Allison on one and Malia on the other. The two are rapidly closing distance with the carriage, he should be doing the same thing.
“Gallop!” He commands, rushing Sundance forwards and into the distance, catching up with the group who’s running ahead.
From a distance away, Allison fires her gun, a bullseye shot that dislodges a wheel of the fanciest coach Liam has ever seen in his life. He was close enough to hear panic yelling and Malia shouting, “Do not resist and you may still live!” Her voice is pitched at an entirely different register from her usual tone. She pulls out a revolver, shooting right next to the coachman out front, the figure falling off his seat down onto the road with a deafening scream, but otherwise alive. The carriage goes careening off its track, the horses are still running strong, dragging the vehicle forward. Scott rushes his own stallion forward, keeping steady with the speed of the wild coach.
Everything is going to plan more or less… it’s about to be his showtime…
Allison jumps from behind Scott’s back onto the now swinging door, dragging a terrified but still undeniably stunning redhead outside, her hand already nearing a pistol. With an arm around the Lydia Martin’s throat, standing perfectly fine on the shaking rooftop, Allison puts the end of the barrel to the side of Lydia’s head. “Empty your pockets!” She grunts, and the color drains from Lydia’s face.
“Do as we say and no one gets hurt!” Scott warns. All of their voices are unrecognizable.
Stiles' voice rings in Liam’s mind as he rushes Sundance forwards.
Don’t be rash, make sure the lady got a front row seat to our show. She needs to see clearly who the hero of her story is.
“The… the valuables are in our coach, just give us a bit of time…” Lydia says, eyes wide with unshed tears. The sentence is left hanging as another terrified shriek comes out from under her feet, Malia is on the other side, “attempting” to pull the arch lady Natalie Martin out. “No!” Lydia yells, throwing herself towards Malia’s direction only to be held back by Allison.
Showtime.
Standing on his stirrups, Liam takes two shots at Malia before the lady is even done screaming out her mother’s name. He flips the cowboy hat up with a small movement of his head, making eye contact with Lydia Martin, lips quirk in a lazy smirk.
The shots he has fired are close enough just to graze Malia’s clothes, making it look like he aims perfectly when Malia throws herself down onto the dirt, rolling a few rounds and popping her bag of red-colored maple syrup for good measure.
Liam subtly hisses between his teeth, throwing her unmoving body a quick glance. He doesn’t envy her role.
“Carla!” Allison cries, playing every part of a desperate road thief.
Scott swears, “Motherfuck—” He draws out his own gun and points it at Natalie Martin inside, “Stay put!”
Tightening her grip on the lady, Allison redirects her pistol at Liam and starts shooting, “Who the fuck is this bastard?!”
His horse riding skill still leaves much to be desired, if Allison was actually trying to shoot him Liam would be a bleeding corpse right now. Sundance dances around expertly enough to put on a good show. Soon, he is running parallel to the moving carriage. Liam takes a shot at Allison’s gun, knocking the weapon out of her hands.
A bit of irony, she’s the one who taught him that move.
“Just a stranger passing by.” He responds smoothly. All’s well and good, except that the lady Martin is looking at him.
Not just any look. And unfortunately for him, not a look of love either, no. In her eyes there’s something almost analytical. Sheen with tears, her pupils dart from a cursing Allison back to Liam, no longer making eye contact with him. Her gaze doesn’t hold a mindless fear anymore, though watery, it has an intention about it that puts Liam on edge. This might be even more complicated than they have anticipated.
Whichever way, Liam has no choice but to act now. He has to send Allison go careening off this carriage before she could think about reaching for her rifle again.
Liam’s done loading his shotgun just in time for Allison to put her hand on the butt of her rifle. Swiftly, he raised the weapon, ready to take another shot…
Bang!
“Fucking hell!”
A series of gun shots go off, Liam’s vision goes skyward as he slips further and further from the back of Sundance. His trusted steed has been frightened by the bullets being fired from God knows where aimed towards him. Amidst all the chaos, his mind manages to register more bullets being shot at him from Allison’s direction, each one missing him only by a nerve-wracking short distance. She’s doing a great job of keeping up the facade, even in the face of complete disarray.
Scott is actually yelling from the other side, “Bridgette, what the hell is going on?!”
“More shooters!” Allison shouts back, “This shit’s getting off track!”
“Abandon ship! Now! It’s not fucking worth it anymore!” That’s basically code for them riding away and acting as backup for Liam against these newcomers.
Allison nods. Or at least Liam thinks she did, he’s still stuck holding as tightly as possible onto the reins.
“Calm down, boy! It’s alright!” He yells. But his words don’t seem to hold much water to Sundance, seeing as a litany of bullets are still being fired their way.
All he can see is sky, horse, dirt, Allison holding Martin, sky, horse, too close to dirt, Martin standing alone looking like she’s about to fall off, sky, horse, his face almost makes contact with the ground, Martin holding onto the edge of the roof for her dear life and… Oh sweet Jesus he’s falling off the horse.
God, he at least hopes that Sundance won’t stamp on him too badly. It would be a pipe dream to wish for zero broken rib, but he would prefer not being trampled to death by his favorite horse. That’d be quite a lame fucking death.
Except that when Liam’s boots have merely scruffed the ground, the collar of his shirt is suddenly being held up by something. No, someone, someone has pulled him up onto their horse.
On instinct, Liam grabs onto whoever’s in front of him.
Liam’s arms wind up around a hard body as heart slams into his chest. All of a sudden, his senses are engulfed in the smell of leather and an indistinctive cactus scent. Almost familiar, fresh, something near fragrance. Eyes shot open, Liam was met face first with a felt cowboy hat, dark brown hair peaks out from under it. Immediately, he loosens his hold, head turns to his left searching for the lady Martin.
The redhead is still hanging onto the carriage. Her bonnet has gotten loose at some point, revealing more of her fiery locs. The layers of dress she’s wearing wave violently in the wind, as if they want to whisk her away. She’s looking into the distance, more specifically, looking at Scott and Allison riding away into the distance.
The stranger is looking in that direction too, and Liam can’t help but notice how beautiful his features are. Green eyes narrow in a smile, sunlight glinting on them, reflecting off a classic S&W revolver raising high.
“Wait!” He grabs at the raised wrist, the bullets go into the ground instead of flying through the air. As the man turns around and sets those eyes on him, clearly demanding an explanation, Liam’s mind swirls to find a reasonable excuse, “You could have hit her.”
“My aim’s not that bad, Dunbar.” The man answers, giving him a satirical smile. Damn it, this guy is much more of a natural at the lazy smirk game, and why the hell does this stranger know his name?!
He ignores the shiver that runs down his spine at the rough voice, “Who the fuck are you?!”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” The stranger says, followed by a high whistle. At that command, the horse they’re staying on swiftly quickens its pace. The momentum has Liam crashing onto the man’s back, effectively smushing whatever words he’s about to say next.
They’re now running next to the four horses that are pulling the carriage forwards. The man does some more whistling to the horses, some fingersnappings. And not only do they calm down, so does Sundance?! Liam’s horse appears again, its yellow-faded white hair shows up alongside them, seemingly heeding to this stranger’s signals.
The situation is getting out of control, Liam is supposed to be the hero of this story. He’s gotta regain lost ground, and he has to act now.
He has to jump.
For leverage, Liam puts one hand on the man’s shoulder to push himself up, standing on the horseback and jumps to the empty’s coachman seat. The lady gasps, “Oh my Lord!” as the man yells “Hey!” and attempts to grab at him, ending up holding only a lone boot of Liam in his hand.
“Don’t worry, my lady!” He smiles up at Lydia, pulling the reins back, forcing the horses and consequently the carriage to a halt, “I’ve got it under control.”
The three wheels skidded to an admittedly jagged stop. Once all the horses have stopped moving, everyone takes a minute to catch their breath.
“Are you alright, dear?” Natalie’s strained voice comes out from inside the coach. Liam has nearly forgotten she was there.
Lydia takes a huge gulp before saying, taking in huge gulps of breath between words, “I’m fine, mama. It’s… thanks to the two gentlemen out here.”
She walks to the edge of the rooftop and Liam dashes in to help her before Theo could move an inch from where he’s still sitting on his horse. He holds onto her waist and swings her down in one fell swoop, smoothly and delicately. Lydia’s hair has turned into something akin to a bird nest, her dress looks more like a jumble of rags rather than any fancy attire, and her makeup is a bit smudge, but she hasn’t a scratch on her.
Natalie opens the carriage curtains, peeking her head outside to take a look at her “saviours”, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. Liam takes that as a cue to introduce himself, dipping his head in a small bow, right hand holding his hat from falling off, “Name’s Liam, ma’am, Liam Dunbar. You must be Natalie Martin, and this must be the famous lady Lydia Martin. I was actually just on my way to the lady here’s birthday party and seemed to have caught you guys here in quite a pickle.” He chuckles, prompting Lydia to huff out a small laugh. He’s not entirely sure if it’s because of the harrowing situation she has escaped from or because she was charmed, but he’s counting it as a small win anyway.
“And you…?” Lydia turns to the stranger, who has got down from his horse and walked closer to them.
The man puts on an innocuous smile, “What a coincidence, I’m also heading to your esteemed event, my lady. Theodore Raeken, but please feel free to call me Theo.”
Theo dons a leather coat, coarse to the touch and smells fresh as a daisy, muscles fill it out quite nicely. Light stubble frames his face and jawline, good nose, beautiful eyes. Even his horse is majestic, standing perfectly still in the picture of disciplined behind Theo. Hair’s matte black, with a patch of white on its head, must be a rare breed. It’s infuriating how perfect this guy is, where the hell did he come from?!
“If you don’t mind,” Theo says, “I would like to offer my company for the rest of your journey, since we’re heading the same way. I would hate for anything to happen to you.” Lydia’s eyes shine at the words, again, unclear if it’s because of her unshed tears or because she’s charmed.
Liam is about to start shooting and/or swing hands, that was supposed to be his line!
“You would have my company as well, my lady.” He speaks up, gathering Lydia’s, and Theo’s, attention, “Two is better than one, after all.”
Lydia looks between the two men. She runs her gloved hands through red locs, smoothing it out as she seems to settle down. “Well, if it’s not too much trouble… That would be lovely, gentlemen. Our escorts failed to show up on time, you see…” her voice still shakes slightly.
Of course her escorts flunked last minute, the Hales are Scott’s associates. This was them repaying the gang a debt. They really have pulled out every stop when it comes to this con.
Lydia continues, “And we would pay you handsomely…”
Theo cuts in, “I have no need for money, my lady. Your safety would be enough.” Again. His. Line.
Liam only nods, signing that he agrees with what Theo has said, because fuck else is there left to say.
Lydia says some more words of gratitude, pulling a few more nods from the both of them. She declines both of their offers for her to ride with them, opting for one of the horses that were pulling the carriage instead. She reasons she would ride on one horse with her mother, while the other three follow her. Liam doesn’t fight her on the matter, there’s only a short distance left between them and the estate anyway.
Before they start their journey, Theo stalks closer to him, handing out the boot, “I believe this is yours.”
“Thanks.” Liam croaks, trying not to shudder under the sharp look in those eyes. Emerald green raking from his head to his toes. Lydia Martin’s gaze has been one thing… but this?
It’s like he’s trying to cut him open.
There’s no doubt they’re in the same line of work. And there’s no doubt that Theo is a seasoned player, maybe even more so than Liam is. Now this has definitely gotten more complicated.