Chapter 8
'It all makes sense now...' he heard Arthur's voice in the distance.
'No, it damn well doesn't,' Micah replied, calm and casual.
What was happening?!
'Dutch, think!' the gruff man insisted.
'Dutch be practical nowwww.' Micah said.
'Dutch!' the familiar voice of John.
'John? Bill asked, shocked and perplexed.
He briefly saw the wounded form of John Marston, alive and well, now clouded in a coat gripping his left arm. 'You left me! Left me to die!'
'My boy... I didn't. I didn't have a choice.'
John wasn't listening, 'You left me!'
'All of you, you pick your sides now. Because this is over.' Arthur declared, high and mighty, an official proclamation. 'All of them years, Dutch, for this snake?' his voice was collected again.
'Be quiet, cowpoke, be quiet. You live in the clouds.' Micah replied coldly.
'No, you be quiet, Mr. Bell, and put down your gun.' Ms. Grimshaw. He could briefly spot her with her familiar shotgun in hands, prepared to use it.
On alert after spotting the familiar forms of the Pinkertons, but confused to what was going on, Javier shouted.
'There's Pinkertons coming fast!'
Ms. Grimshaw turned to look at his direction.
The bullet traveled through quickly, fired by one of Micah's revolvers.
What the fuck?! That estúpido just murdered the mother of the gang! No matter what she'd done to Molly, she was the space that everyone worked to maintained, looking out for each gang members respectfully. Although they talked only a few times as contrast to John and Arthur, the two men having grown up with her, the bullet fired still sent a chill through the Mexican's spine.
Javier gripped his pistol, ready to put a bullet through that puto, only stopping himself when Dutch stepped forward.
'Now, who's amongst you is with me?!' the proud leader of the Van Der Linde gang shouted for them all to hear, stepping in the middle, keeping his revolvers aimed at both sides. 'And who is...' both revolvers trained on Arthur and John, 'betraying me?!'
Javier didn't know what was going on. Arthur and John weren't the ones who just murdered Ms. Grimshaw, but he could briefly spot Dutch and Micah standing side by side, along with the new members, Cleet and Joe. Bill hesitated for half a second, his own shotgun aimed at their direction.
He would drill Bill for what the hell was going on later, but his sides were chosen.
He had to side with Dutch. Arthur and John had been talking badly of Dutch for a while. Micah may have just killed Ms. Grimshaw but Dutch wouldn't kill them.
Shakily, Javier moved behind the rest, hearing Arthur call out their names.
'Bill, Javier, think! Think for yourselves!' Harsh coughs broke out of Arthur.
'He's lying! He's lying!' Micah spat out.
Javier kept his gun raised in the air, body shaking and trembling, teeth gritted. For a few long seconds, he was unable to lower them, because Arthur hadn't even aimed at him or Bill yet. His gun was trained on Micah... and Dutch. He slowly lowered his gun at John's direction, his side chosen.
All he knew was that his former brothers just betrayed them all...
Javier was hurt. How could Arthur say that he wished he'd died at Guarma?
He'd wanted the long lost bond back. While he couldn't understand in the mistrust and borderline contempt to Dutch, he'd still never wanted him dead.
He was assaulted by a pain in his chest, bigger than the gunshot wound he received to the leg, bigger than anything ever before.
While they didn't grow up at each other's sides, Javier considered Arthur to be his brother. He'd always cared about him. In the past four to five years, Javier considered Arthur to be the heart of the gang with Hosea being the soul, at least before he'd started saying nasty things about Dutch.
But Arthur was mostly right...
He'd left Jack to watch his mother to die after that Pinkerton puto.
That was where Arthur was wrong. He would no doubt think he would kill that boy, that he would hold that boy at that gunpoint, but he knew he wouldn't. He'd always cared about the kid the moment he'd first seen him as a little baby a few years prior. Would do anything for him. Would do anything out of sheer loyalty.
But... he grimaced.
He left the boy and his mother to die.
He didn't have to go with Dutch and Micah when Abigail was in custody.
Lenny wouldn't have.
Goddamn it!
But what else was he supposed to do?!
He didn't have a choice.
Dutch's words were always right. He would never lead them to their deaths. Going against the Pinkertons would have been a disaster, not with the number of folks that was lost.
Attempting to rescue Abigail could have gotten them all killed. Arthur and Sadie risk life and limb.
Perhaps with some fanciful thinking, he was hoping that Arthur would wake up, and everything would proceed as normal as it did a few months ago with the man offering a mini joke and Javier responding in kind as the two shared a nice bottle of whiskey. The man had been in pain for a while with that sickness that manifested out of nowhere.
That one cursed word. That deathly disease among many others.
Tuberculosis.
At least he disclosed that to him. That meant Javier's plan had to change. Tuberculosis was a killer. It was still a problem in Mexico. Not as big as the United States, but definitely something Javier wanted to avoid. To know Arthur had gotten it, likely through the last few months... it did upset him because Arthur was planning to die on that mountain. In Mexico, it was warm and dry enough to allow Arthur's lungs to take it easy. Here, it was possible, but Javier would more likely than not eventually be tracked down.
What did it matter anyhow?
Everything just went against him.
Javier came from a lost background and was a minority, yet Dutch made him felt equal and part of the group. He remembered how he lost contact with his family, and his sister married and moved away. Dutch gave him power and prestige so he'd remained loyal to him... it should have been until the end, but fate chose differently.
Yet, he couldn't stop the urge from raising the blanket over Arthur protectively when a chill swept through the room, causing his body to involuntarily shiver.
He eyed Arthur with sadness. What could he do to fix this? Even if he'd abandoned Arthur here and now, left him behind again to go back to Dutch, he'd killed Dutch's right hand man-the one who Arthur persisted was the rat, the one who Dutch favored at the end of the day.
No matter of the backtalk that Arthur and John did about Dutch's plans, Javier couldn't take back pulling the trigger. Couldn't take back going behind Dutch's back.
In short, Javier was stuck with Arthur just like he was stuck with him.
He had asked too many questions, allowed his curiosity to get the better of him, and it led to him becoming a rat.
He just had a tendency to leave people for dead.
Would there be any way to fix any of this?
To mend his connection with the only man who had left without him being labeled as a...
Well, he still was a traitor.
Arthur and Dutch viewed him similarly. At least, Dutch would, if Javier's worse fears were correct. Whenever he found Micah's body, noticed that Javier had gone missing, it was only a matter of time before the pieces clicked in his mind. The man was a charismatic leader for a reason, knew how to plan for operations even if they failed through.
Dutch doesn't lose.
He couldn't lose.
But... there had to be some sort of alternative where Dutch's plans came to fruition and Arthur lived. Surely, they could rebuild the family that had been lost.
But he knew deep down that it wasn't likely. Simply put, too many bridges have been burnt, and Arthur and John believed that Dutch would kill them.
Would he...?
Surely, he wouldn't!
Dutch killing Arthur wouldn't have happened a few months ago. He loved Arthur, praised him for his accomplishments. It was on Arthur not for accepting the reality of the situation.
But... Arthur claimed Dutch left him to die?!
It had to be some mistake! Surely, Dutch wouldn't do such a thing! Dutch clearly cared for and loved Hosea, and Arthur, and Anabelle, and even John!...
Right?!
Just a few months ago, everything was easier.
He'd longed for the times of the gang being whole, of them all being together, of them just living with dreams in their minds, the wisdom Hosea imparted, the goofiness Sean had, Arthur not having this sickness which almost killed him, Lenny always trying to push everyone to read, the diversity... everything.
It all just felt complete.
Until it didn't.
Until a few weeks ago when everything came crashing down.
Questions were asked.
Dutch's sons betrayed him, or did he betray them? There were some of Arthur's accusations he just couldn't deny. Did he betray John because of following Dutch mindlessly and not going back to him to look for a body.
Nevertheless, his sick brother hated him, but the latter couldn't just leave. There was no undoing the past. The least he'd owned Arthur was allowing him to recover from his sickness if that was even remotely possible.
He looked at his still sleeping brother, wishing he could join him now. There were times where Hosea forced plenty of the members to cuddle like a bunch of children. It was embarrassing at the time, but it was clear Arthur, John, and Javier loved it. It was always Hosea at the end of the day. He'd loved Dutch like a father, but Hosea was always there day and night. The first painful night after his death, Javier couldn't sleep. The fact that everything spiraled afterwards just left him with one night of sleep deprivation becoming more and more frequent.
Nothing eased the pain now.
Walking to the front door, he opened it and looked out at the night. It would be another one of those nights. Javier had to make sure Arthur wouldn't have any problems, but he'd doubted he would be able to sleep with knowing Arthur Morgan hated him and wished he'd died in Guarma.
He lit a cigar and placed it in his mouth, allowing the smoke to course through the air. As always, the sensation relaxed him, always gave him satisfaction, and even now he could feel the joints in his body easing... though it didn't fill the hole in his chest, the terrible aching feeling of being unable to stop all of what happened.
Now, it was just him.
An outcast.
With Arthur.
In his abandoned shed far from Valentine.
The middle of absolutely nowhere.
The doctors implied Arthur was going to die and that it may be time to dig up some hole for him for his resting place, but he waited, and waited, hoping that Strange Man was actually real. Indeed, when Arthur's pulse was still faint, Javier knew that some luck was on his side.
All that he had left was Arthur and Boaz at this point. Fortunately, there was some grass for his horse to feast upon to survive out here.
Dutch wouldn't find them this far.
There was no relief in this. If Dutch appeared right now, naming his betrayal off one by one, he knew he would bow his head submissively and allow him to shoot him, because he would deserve it.
Arthur wasn't vengeful. He could tell. If the man could, he wouldn't shoot him. The man seemed to actually been wanting to die, coming to peace with it. Yet, his survival bordered on about Javier's decision in choosing to leave behind Dutch when he'd needed him the most. All he could hope was that Bill was taking care of their leader.
As another inhalation filled the air, he fell against the nearby seat and looked up at the night stars, wondering if Hosea, Sean, Lenny, the Callander brothers, Jenny, all of them, were looking down at them now, seeing what they have all become.