At the end of his guard duty shift, Javier stretched his arms and spotted Charles approaching from camp. It was the morning after he'd joined Dutch and Micah in Annesburg, where they'd killed Cornwall. Dutch and the others hadn't returned yet from Saint Denis and it was calm around camp.
Charles stopped in front of him. "I'm here to relieve you."
"Gracias, compadre." Javier swung the strap of the rifle over his head, handing it over. He joked, "Just in time. It was getting a little too quiet by myself. The trees sound like they're whispering to each other."
Charles nodded, serious. "Rains Fall says this land has soaked up the blood of many innocents, his people and others."
Javier was glad he hadn't heard that at the start of his shift. It was unnerving as hell and Charles had delivered it as if it were fact. He shook his head, pushing away his uneasiness.
Since it was only the two of them, there was something Javier wanted to bring up, as he recalled Charles' recent clashing with Dutch.
"Say," he began, taking a neutral tone. "You know Dutch is doing his best with what we've been dealt with, right?"
Charles stared ahead, not facing him, his profile sharp against the trees. "I know he is no longer considering the best options for survival."
Javier stiffened with tension. "What is your problem, brother?"
"I don't have a problem," Charles claimed and glanced his way. "Do you have a problem?"
Javier clenched his jaw a moment before answering, "I don't know yet, but use your brain through all of this, friend. Use it, if you know what's good for you."
Charles crossed his arms and returned his attention to the woods. "I'll use my brain, and you use yours."
Charles hadn't outright spoken against Dutch, but he hadn't been afraid to push back lately. Javier didn't want to cause strife with one of their most reliable members, but he needed Charles to know where his loyalty should lie.
"Just remember who has provided for us lately."
Charles said nothing and, unless he wanted to get in his face about it, Javier would have to accept Charles would take his words into consideration.
Javier ambled into camp, which was alive and running under Miss Grimshaw's direction. Everyone still here was awake by this time, except maybe Uncle. Javier debated a moment on whether he wanted to rest for the afternoon or eat something.
Javier spotted Lenny and Karen standing around, talking and drinking coffee while Pearson sat on a barrel near them, looking glum.
Javier joined them and asked Pearson, "Why the long face, amigo?"
"You have to ask?" Pearson responded grumpily.
Javier frowned and Karen questioned him, "You spot any Pinkertons during your lookout?"
"No."
"Cause Lenny was saying yesterday there was some pretty damn close to here."
He'd taken over for Lenny at his guard shift last night and Lenny hadn't said anything about it. Javier swung to face him. "Is this true?"
"They weren't too far," Lenny admitted. "I could see them holding lanterns down by the river, on the opposite shore."
"They see you?"
Lenny shook his head. "No, but they're sure getting close. I think Hosea and Charles got the right idea about us moving out of the area as soon as possible."
"Or we could scatter," suggested Pearson. "And save ourselves the chance of getting captured."
Javier scowled, offended. "Scatter?"
"Seems to me the right move right now."
Lenny pondered over it before he said agreeably, "If we split up and get back together in a few months, the heat will have to be off us by then."
They were worse than Charles. "Do you hear yourselves? Where is your loyalty? That's not the kind of respect Dutch deserves after all he's done for us."
Pearson and Karen shared a look that Javier didn't like. Lenny said, "We ain't trying to sound disloyal, Javier, but seems the time's past due for us to get it all straightened out while we're still together."
Remembering Dutch's emphatic words of recent days, he said fervently, "We live if we are together."
Karen scoffed at him. "Don't get your bloomers in a twist. We ain't going nowhere this minute. We're just talking."
She said it like it was no big deal, but all this talk was leading them down a mindset where they saw it as natural to abandon their family.
Javier didn't care for their attitudes and decided he was ready to lay down for awhile, away from them. He left them without saying another word and started heading for his sleeping area. As he passed Hosea and John standing near John's tent, his ear caught their conversation.
"I want to, Hosea. So does Abigail. But you and I both know we can't do shit without some money lining our pockets. It's the same old story it always is."
"You're not wrong," answered Hosea. "But there are jobs here. Now, I've already recruited Lenny and Karen, but do you have any interest in roping some horses?"
"Is there money in it?"
"Not necessarily. But there's the possibility of forging an alliance with the Wapiti. It could come in handy when we're trying to dig ourselves outta here."
"I don't know, Hosea. I gotta focus on Abigail and Jack now. The only way to do that is to come up with some money. I gotta think careful for once about what can get me there."
"Fair enough."
"What are you talking about?" Javier interrupted, incensed at what he was hearing. How could Hosea talk so casually about John leaving again? And behind Dutch's back? He repeated what he'd said to the others, "We need to stick together, now more than ever."
John turned, eyed him up a moment, and then stated, "I want to live, Javier. I want my son to live."
"And he will. You will. Dutch, he's keeping us safe."
"Funny." John shifted to face him fully. "I ain't felt too safe lately."
Javier took a step towards him, hands tightening into fists. "Then that's on you, friend."
They challenged each other with hard stares, John's scars adding a menacing touch to his glare. They'd somehow aged him too, as if he now matched Javier in life experience.
Javier had watched John grow over the years, from temperamental kid to comparable fighter. He and John had sparred before, wrestling in good fun, but there was nothing good-natured in his manner now. Javier wouldn't hesitate to respond if John threw the first punch, and he wouldn't hold back.
"That's enough, you two," Hosea broke in, stepping between them. "We've got enough of a fight without killing each other first."
John said, "Javier's the one with the issue."
"Enough!" Hosea repeated, raising his voice. He pushed against John's chest with one arm. Even with the other arm in a sling, he still managed to lengthen the space between them and ordered, "John, take a walk."
"I didn't do shit."
"Now, John."
John sent Hosea a brief glare, but didn't dare to challenge him further. He turned around and left, kicking up dirt and grumbling under his breath.
Javier turned too, but Hosea stopped him. "Hold on, Javier. I think we should talk."
"About what?" he sneered.
"Don't you take that goddamn snarky tone with me, son, or I'll have you on your ass before you know what the hell hit you."
Javier hated that the admonishing tone Hosea used actually worked on him. It embarrassed him as if he were a kid again. Hosea never gave anyone the business unless they were pissing him off or acting immature and stupid.
Javier didn't apologize because he did believe he was in the right about them disrespecting Dutch, but he tempered his voice. "What is it?"
Hosea took a moment to study the camp around them, and then he leaned in. "You remember what Josiah and I told you? About a rat?"
Javier's posture straightened. Did he remember? Ever since Trelawny first told him his suspicions, Javier hadn't stopped thinking about it.
Javier hadn't even wanted to believe Trelawny when he'd informed him of the dozens to hundreds of Pinkertons flooding in from Washington. He'd thought it was an exaggeration, but there were too many men in these hills that proved otherwise. With what he learned from Lenny, they could trail one of the more absent-minded gang members back to camp with ease. Or, if Hosea was right, they only needed to bide their time until someone led the agents straight to them.
Instead of lingering on the possibility one of their own could do something like that, Javier deflected, "Why are you two so sure Molly didn't say anything?"
Hosea shrugged. "Josiah was with her and seemed convinced she had nothing to do with it, but, honestly I haven't ruled the possibility out myself. Dutch has given her plenty of reasons lately to give us up."
Javier nodded slowly. He couldn't deny that Dutch hadn't exactly let the girl down easy when it was obvious he'd lost interest.
"But if that isn't the case, we need to be on alert for someone else," Hosea said. "There may be honor among thieves, but at the root of it, that's all we are. Thieves."
Javier said bitterly, "It's a sad day when we can't trust our own brothers."
"It's true," Hosea agreed. "But also naive to think not one of us would ever turn in the others for profit."
"What about Arthur's woman?" Javier suggested. "She's the newest to make herself a little too involved with our business, don't you think?"
"Mrs. Balfour?" The idea seemed to amuse Hosea for whatever reason. "I had my own reservations when Arthur first brought her on, but after a conversation with the woman, those doubts were quelled. She's showing she can fit in here, and seems to be exactly as she presents herself."
"You don't think the bank job in Saint Denis was a set-up?"
"Now, I didn't say that, but Charlotte's far from any suspect I'd ever consider. She didn't know of our plans to rob it and she didn't leave Shady Belle until the day we all headed out."
Javier hated to admit Hosea was convincing him, but he threw out, "Why not John? He seems unhappy too."
Hosea's eyebrows rose. "John? John's been with us since he was a kid. He knows better. And so do you."
Javier accused, "You strike it down so quickly because you have a soft spot for him."
"John's a lot of things, bonehead and idiot come to mind, but he's not stupid."
"Not if you're to believe Abigail."
"Well, now." A smile twitched on the old man's face. "There's different sorts of stupid, but he ain't the one we're talking about."
"Who else could be the rat then?"
"Javier," Hosea's voice went somber again. "I think you know of whom I speak."
Hosea was making veiled accusations against their brethren. His mind went to who were their newest members and tried to connect that to when all the trouble started. Lenny, Jenny, Charles...Micah.
At the start, Javier hadn't had a strong opinion on Micah. The man's skill in a gunfight spoke for itself and sometimes he made a decent drinking companion. But he was ruthless and it was obvious he didn't share their core values.
Micah also ran his mouth too long and started fights in towns that weren't necessary, more than once blowing their discretion before they'd even settled in.
Still, Dutch had implored them all to trust Micah, to give him a chance to prove himself. And Javier had tried. He really did. As he got to know Micah, the more he didn't like him, but he tolerated him for Dutch.
"Something tells me your trip to Guarma didn't help matters," stated Hosea. "I don't know all that happened on that island, Javier, but I've heard and seen enough to guess that it wasn't good."
"No." He'd been captured and caged like an animal most of the time so he couldn't attest to much either.
Hosea continued, "Bill and Micah seem not to have been as affected, but Arthur came back ragged and disheartened."
More than that, Arthur had grown resentful and wary. He'd started questioning Dutch on everything.
"And you, Javier? You returned spiteful and defensive. As for Dutch..." Hosea sighed. "Well, I'm not too sure yet the damage."
Everything had been volatile on the island, even more than what they'd left behind in Saint Denis. When Javier asked around at the village once they'd landed, what he learned from the locals about Fussar had left him uneasy.
His worst fear was realized when he was shot and captured. He clung to the hope Dutch would survive and live on, even as Dutch had vowed, "We'll come back for you, son."
It was a promise made, but not one Javier truly believed possible. Especially after he was brought to the complex, a place that was too heavily guarded for a breakout. He'd prayed his capture was not for nothing, and that Dutch would be on his way back to America.
Soon after, Javier had been paraded in front of everyone, dragged down the road, his ankle tied with a rope and attached to a burro. When he'd been thrown in that cage, being pummeled by a barrage of verbal threats, he'd closed his eyes and given up fully. In those moments he thought might be his last, Javier had guiltily sunk back onto regret. Fleeing the country had brought back some bad memories. As much as he wanted to escape the grips of the law, he hadn't liked leaving his new life in America.
But he should have kept the faith. Dutch had returned and saved him. It was why Javier couldn't stand to hear the others speak against him. Dutch may have some crazy notions, but behind it all was a heart just crazy enough to protect the ones he loved at the cost of his own life.
Javier clenched his jaw a moment and told Hosea, "We all do what we have to, to survive."
"Yes," said Hosea wryly. "In fact, it's the only way we've been living for months now." Hosea pressed, "But how did it all go down in Annesburg? Not the simple conversation Dutch made it out to be, was it?"
Not even close. Instead of admitting that, Javier insisted, "It wasn't a waste of time. Dutch says there's some bonds sitting in Cornwall's factory that we can steal."
"Hmm." Hosea rubbed his chin in thought as Javier turned his face to hide the uncertainty that must be showing in his expression.
If Guarma had renewed his loyalty in Dutch, their recent trip to Annesburg had widened the cracks of doubt that had been previously surfacing when they'd first got lost at sea. Javier didn't want those crevices to exist in his heart, but they seemed again to be opening on their own accord.
Javier thought he understood Dutch's plan going into Annesburg. Cornwall was at the root of their problems. Dutch was the best negotiator Javier had ever met. If anyone could flip the odds in a conversation, it was Dutch. He'd strike a deal with Cornwall and they'd get these Pinkertons off their backs once and for all.
But things had gone...differently.
Everything had felt so disjointed for so long, but Dutch's renewed confidence had him swaggering again. Javier had been proud to be working closely with Dutch again, to see him in action, and for once not fighting for their lives. At least, at first. It was Micah's presence that had put a damper on the whole trip.
"Micah reckons there's a rat."
It'd been the first thing Dutch had said to him when they'd set out for Annesburg and it'd startled him. "You don't say?"
Micah had continued, "We's only back a minute and Pinkertons show up."
Dutch had been frustrated over it. "Molly clearly talked, but who else?"
"Molly?" The accusation had thrown Javier, since Trelawny had claimed that hadn't been the case.
Micah continued, "The way I see it, the best thing we can do is let the weak go, move on, get our money and start over."
That plan had incensed Javier. Who was he calling weak? The others had survived even without the best gunslingers among them. Plus, they were family. They wouldn't be abandoned.
"That ain't happening," Dutch had said sternly, shutting Micah down, much to Javier's relief.
Javier had asked, "What should we do, boss?"
Micah swept a hand across the coal town in front of them. "Cornwall's why we're here."
Dutch added, "His money is what's keeping Pinkertons on our tail. He's America and I want out, but he won't let us. We make a deal, some noise and then we're gone."
They'd started by hiding behind some crates at the docks, which Javier hadn't fully understood until Milton unexpectedly made an appearance, getting off a boat after having a chummy conversation with Cornwall. Hilariously, they discussed Dutch while the man was less than twenty feet from them.
As the Pinkertons started to clear the area, Dutch nodded to Micah and Micah had taken off trailing one of Cornwall's men carrying a briefcase.
Meanwhile, while Cornwall was chastising one of his employees, Dutch jumped from behind the crates without warning and started taunting Cornwall. Javier scrambled to his side as he started spinning a yarn about them being one in the same.
It should have felt like any other job, where Dutch could talk the ear off of anyone until they got what they needed. But something about this was different. It was like Dutch didn't care for the outcome one way or another, no matter what Cornwall said.
When Dutch had drawn his gun, Javier didn't have time for thinking anymore and joined in the action. Cornwall's men were nothing, easy to take care of, but the Pinkertons in Milton's company hadn't all gone far and they had the help of the mine's underpaid guards.
By the end of it all, they'd escaped Annesburg and Micah had stolen some document detailing a dynamite delivery and the bonds that could be theirs for the taking. Dutch had heaped his praises on the both of them.
After the dust had settled, they'd split up, Micah and Dutch riding ahead, conspiring in low voices and they didn't try to include him, which they should have. Because that ride from the middle of the woods gave him too much time to think.
More than anything, Javier wanted to point the finger, to lay blame on Micah for the sudden craziness in Annesburg. It was what Micah was known for, causing mayhem and shooting up places. But Dutch had been the one to change the plan unexpectedly, not Micah.
Javier shook himself. He was being an idiot. He was only uncertain because he didn't understand the full scope of Dutch's plans. He just had to trust Dutch.
"Javier?" He must have been silent for too long because Hosea's eyes were narrowed on him. "What aren't you saying?"
He spat out defensively, "There is a reason for Dutch's actions. You've just lost your faith, Hosea."
Javier left Hosea's company abruptly because he couldn't stand the turn of the conversation anymore. On his way out of camp, he plucked up his guitar. He'd stay near, so that camp was still within earshot, should he be needed. But he made sure the trees obscured his view of their doubting eyes and faithless blasphemy.
Agitated, Javier tugged at the scarf around his neck to loosen it. In doing so, he missed the pair of legs stretched out in the path ahead. He tripped over the legs, his guitar slipping from his grip as he struggled to catch himself.
Mierda! He snapped out loud, "Ay! Qué demonios estás haciendo! Cómo te atrues a hacerme esto!? No me ves caminando aqui, estupido?"
Furious, Javier twisted to confront the person responsible for nearly sending him sprawling down the hillside to his death.
"I know you did not just call me stupid, Mr. Escuella."
Unexpectedly, his hidden assassin turned out to be Tilly. She'd been sitting against a boulder with a book discarded in the grass. She stood now, crossing her arms and giving him a stern look that rivaled Miss Grimshaw's death glare.
Temper running high, he snapped at her, "Why the hell were you sitting in my way?"
Her mouth tightened into a thin line. "I don't know why you're yelling at me when I didn't do nothing to you, Javier."
She snatched up her book from the ground and spun around to leave. He instantly regretted lashing out at her. He didn't want to fight with anyone else today.
"Tilly, un momento."
She didn't stop walking away and a panic welled up inside him. This wasn't what he wanted. He moved quickly and snapped his hand to catch her wrist. "Wait, Tilly, por favor."
She turned around and there was honest fear in her eyes. He remembered too late her aversion at being touched by men. He released her as soon as he saw her flinch.
"Please, Tilly. I'm sorry." Javier watched her glance up to camp, as if ready to bolt. He'd seen others afraid of him before, but not within the group, and not Tilly. It shamed him that he'd caused that kind of uncertainty in her, as if she were unsure if she could trust him.
She ended up staying, but she didn't look at him. Her arms were tight around her book, as if it would protect her.
To break the awkwardness between them, Javier cleared his throat and gestured. "What are you reading?"
"Oh." She glanced at it in her arms. "Some silly book Mary-Beth left behind."
It was unusual for him, but Javier didn't know what else to say, and part of him wished he'd just let her leave his company, angry.
"Is your guitar okay?" she asked timidly.
He turned and walked to where it had fallen in the grass. He strummed his fingers along the strings, made a slight adjustment on one of the pegs, tried again and was satisfied.
He informed her, "Sí. It's fine." He lowered the guitar and leaned it against a tree before eyeing her. "Why are you out here?"
Tilly hugged herself again. "Just...needed time alone."
It was then Javier realized he was intruding on her space. Before he could offer her her peace again, she asked, a hint of amusement entering her tone, "Why are you out here, stomping around, swearing and stepping on girls?"
Javier took in a long breath and released it. "Nobody believes in this family anymore."
"You know that ain't true, Javier."
"No? Then why do we have so many defectors all of the sudden?"
She gave him a look of mild disbelief. "Sure, a few of us have moved on, but it ain't all of us."
Javier asked, a little helplessly, "What's wrong with them?"
"I know you want us to live happily ever after all together, but that ain't reality. You've gotta let people decide for themselves where they want to end up. You can't force them into staying and expect them to stay happy." Her eyes shifted to the side, as if remembering something dark. "They'd resent you and they might end up killing you."
He realized she was talking of her own self, when she'd been trapped running with the Foreman brothers. He'd heard gossip in camp that she'd killed one of the brothers to escape. "I suppose...you're right."
"You just let everyone be and it'll all work out." She smiled at him. "Trust me."
"Bien." Her assurances were making him feel better, at least enough for his mind to calm. "How have you been lately, Tilly?
"Same as usual, I guess." She rubbed her arms as if she were cold. "But I really ain't taken a liking to those men Dutch let in, those friends of Micah's. The way they look at us women?" She shuddered. "It ain't nice."
It was another choice Dutch had made that conflicted Javier with feelings of treachery. Dutch had only taken Micah's word as to their worth to the gang. "They try anything, you come to me, okay?"
Tilly smiled at him again. "Thank you, Javier. You sure know how to make me feel safe around here."
Why did he feel so much relief that he was a hero in her eyes again? "No problem, senorita."
Her attention moved from his neck to the ground behind him. "Did you know you dropped your scarf?"
His hand went to his neck. "I did?"
She stepped around him and bent to pick it up, setting down her book. He followed her with his eyes, and quirked an eyebrow at her when she faced him again. "You still wanting to leave us too?"
Her nose scrunched up in a way he found attractive. "Oh, don't start up again. You know my mind on that and it ain't personal."
Javier opened his mouth to argue with her, but she ordered, "Stand still."
He did so, humored at her attempt at a strict tone as she swept the scarf over his head in a determined fashion. He lifted his chin so she could tie it, as if this were an everyday ritual they engaged in, where Tilly acted as a woman concerned of his appearance.
She'd paused, her hands still on each end of the scarf, the back of it resting against his nape. She was staring at his throat and he belatedly knew what she'd seen: a scar stretching across his neck, made by a man who had nearly killed him. Javier didn't like people seeing it nor did he like looking at it himself. It marred his skin and was a reminder of stupid mistakes in his past.
Tilly reached a hand up, running her fingertips across the scarred line, in the same direction the knife had drawn across all those years ago. "I've never noticed this before."
He didn't move, using all his willpower to allow her touch and not instinctively slap her hand away and hide the scar once more. After a long moment that was probably shorter than what it felt like to him, her hand mercifully slid from his neck to resting on his chest and he could breathe again.
She questioned him, "What happened, Javier?"
Something about the earnest concern in her expression made his heart start thumping like a drum. But he wouldn't detail that encounter, not to her. It was best left unspoken and he wished he could shed it from his memories.
He told her simply, "I survived."
Tilly lifted her eyes to meet his. The mood between them suddenly shifted when they made eye contact. He recognized the signs in Tilly's changing reactions, her eyes widening, her brief darting glance to his lips, the blush that followed. He knew it for what it was, as he'd affected many women in a similar way: awakened desire.
Javier watched her close her eyes as if she wanted to hide from her own physical reaction. Yet, she didn't move from him. Her palms lay still and warm against his chest, even with his shirt between them.
Was Tilly finally surrendering to him fully? Was she welcoming him into possessing her? It was a temptation too enticing to resist. She was right here and he needed to taste her, at least once.
Tilly had a tendency to wear clothing with a high neck collar, or a shawl draped over her shoulders. But today, she'd shed her shawl and the blouse she'd chosen had left her neck and some of her shoulder exposed. He brought his hands up, lightly resting them on her hips.
Javier leaned towards her, brushing his cheek against hers momentarily. Next, instead of her lips, he pressed his mouth gingerly on her neck, just below her lobe. He was rewarded by her sudden intake of breath in his ear. It sent a jolt of satisfaction through his body and he dared to push further. Slowly, he feathered her neck in light kisses, as if her skin was delicate and too fragile to push on firmly.
From behind her ear to down her shoulder, he moved at a gentle and agonizingly slow pace so as not to frighten her. When he finally pulled back to give her the chance to encourage him to continue on, his body was aflame for her.
"Javier," Tilly said, a little breathless. She lifted her eyes, her hands now in fists clasping his shirt as she trembled in his arms. "Would you..."
...Make love to me? He waited for her needy request and the anticipation set him on fire.Their naked flesh would combine and he'd taste her lips first. Her sighs and moans of contentment would fill the air of her pleasure and then his own heated desire would follow.
"...play for me?"
For a moment, his lust-filled mind was too overwhelmed with his own wants to comprehend her true request. Then her meaning broke through and he understood. Tilly meant to keep him at a distance. The expectation of their love-making dissipated and reality lassoed him back.
Javier smiled in a leisurely manner, as if his thoughts of her were purely platonic. "Of course."
He released her and they separated, Javier trying not to reveal his disappointment in her choice. He sat where Tilly had originally been situated when he'd stumbled over her.
When he began to sing and play the accompanying music, she finally took a spot beside him. She closed her eyes and swayed to a song about unrequited love that she might have found a little too on the nose if she'd understood a lick of Spanish.
While Javier felt discouraged at Tilly's rejection, he wasn't angry over it. In fact, it made him realize she might possess a power over him that only one other woman in his life had. It'd been a relationship that hadn't ended so well for him.
Yet, Tilly was a woman who might have had a chance to keep him honest, had he met her a long time ago, when he was young and naive about life. But nowadays, she was too innocent and he had seen too much injustice in the world to ever sit out of a fight.
Javier already knew what Tilly wanted and it wasn't something he could ever give her. In Saint Denis, she'd expressed clearly her desire for a 'normal' life, of having a house of her own and children too. Her dream was simple and it was one she deserved, but not a place he wanted to end up, even if he could have it for himself.
Javier's fingers glided across the strings and he set aside his frustration of the others, his own unwanted misgivings of Dutch and the possible collapse of the people he'd considered his home for a long time.
For now, it was enough to have the attention of one girl even if she'd resisted his charm once again. Despite it all, Javier could be content in the knowledge that he had at least one friend who was always on his side.
