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Chapter 3
The poncho-clad Mexican missed his younger days. Tequila, cocaine, and nights with Mexican women shattered him as he'd gone against everything he knew. Despite those drugs - hypothetically - being out of his body, he'd still felt the memories and mental scars even now.
The Mexican finished his portion of the small amount of stew that they'd left before looking for the rest of the gang.
Still slightly disoriented, Javier came inside the cabin to the sounds of arguing—well, more like mocking to be exact. The old, decrepit door creaked open at his hands, then slammed shut from the strong winds on its other side.
"-up with you boys, cause I thought you liked action!" Micah scoffed at the group consisting of Arthur, Lenny, Bill, and now Javier. "A couple of days out on the lamb, and you lot have all turned yella-" he eyed the dark-skinned, "apart from you, of course."
"Shut up, Micah," Lenny hissed. It was a lie to say that the kid had any fond feelings for the slippery snake.
Now, Javier wondered what would have happened if Lenny hadn't died at Saint Denis and made it to Beaver Hollow. Would the stress of everything have caught up to the kid like it did to Bill, or would he have been able to see how badly things were going, like Arthur and John? Like somewhere in Javier did, but couldn't accept that his icon couldn't be wrong?
After all, it was no coincidence that all the people who left behind Dutch went on to live better lives instead of being haunted by the past.
"I ain't ever seen so many long faces!" The rat bastard persisted, obnoxiously.
Javier had to quell the urge to reach for his revolver in his holster, wondering yet again how he could have ever considered the híbrido a friend.
Bill then spoke up in an empty slur. "I guess…" He sipped another smoke from his cigarette. "I guess folks miss them, that fell..."
"Well when I fall, I don't want no fuss."
"When you fall, there'll be a party," Lenny taunted.
"Now that you mention it, he should have took that opportunity in Blackwater," Javier chimed in. "Would have done us all a favor."
The whole cabin lost itself in laughter, with Bill's being the most rambunctious.
Micah menacingly approached Bill, his demeanor shifting. "That funny, huh?"
"Sure," he followed with a chuckle.
Micah didn't do anything for a moment. But then he punched him across the face. Arthur and Lenny rushed to keep the dishonorable soldier back, while Micah walked away.
Spinning back around to look at the glaring Bill and eyeing Lenny and Javier, he proclaimed, "Well maybe I don't feel like being laughed at by the likes of you three-!"
Suddenly the door burst open, revealing Dutch. At his appearance, the whole cabin couldn't help but fall to attention like a bunch of soldiers awaiting for their superior to give out a new brand of orders.
"Stop it! Now!" Their leader ordered. "You fools punching each other, when Colm O'Driscoll needs punching hard?!" He gesticulated with his hands, and his voice started to crack from the strain. "You wanna sit around and wait for them to find us? All of you, we got work to do." He said as Arthur moved past him and toward the hitching post.
"Are you sure about this Dutch?" Arthur questioned, the concern evident in his tone.
"Yes," Dutch responded curtly without hesitation, walking quickly past and toward the Count.
"Folk been through a lot recently, we're hardly back on our feet yet." The worry was evident in his voice as he took in the satisfaction of his cigarette.
"And the last thing we need is to get bushwhacked by Colm O'Driscoll."
"I know you hate him Dutch…"
"He's here for us."
"I doubt that."
There was the Arthur he'd known. The Arthur he'd needed. The Arthur who Javier should have sided with. He was thinly veiled but still there. Arthur Morgan from Beaver Hollow. The Arthur who could help Javier get folks away.
"No, you're just doubting me."
And it was stolen away. At this, Arthur relented, collected the rifle and lasso from Dutch, and mounted his horse.
Reminded yet again of Dutch van der Linde and the hold he had over the gang, Javier didn't know if he should say something. It was a conversation he would have typically avoided. He'd always do that back in those days, remaining behind at camp quite frequently and being so stupidly loyal to Dutch that he didn't know how to take the falling out between gang members until they were all gone.
Asking more questions could have saved folks, or at least Arthur and John.
No, Javier had to do what he couldn't do before.
He had to stand up.
"Dutch..." Javier stopped himself for a moment, wondering how to put this together. At those eyes looking at him, he felt even more anxious. There was no rivaling Dutch van der Linde in terms of words, and that had been why he was able to keep Javier on a string for so long. "Arthur's right."
Dutch blinked, his deep dark eyes taken aback by the Mexican. "Oh, you too, Javier..."
"I mean... the last time you went off and did something, we lost Jenny and the Callander brothers. We have to be careful." Javier said, his teeth clenched together. "Going after the O'Driscolls in a petty feud is unnecessary."
"Colm O'Driscoll wouldn't think it petty, son," Dutch answered.
"Any signs can be led back to us, Dutch," Javier declared, wishing to avoid any possible leak from that damned train robbery.
That was why the Pinkertons found them so easily, wasn't it?
If they hadn't robbed that train, maybe they would have been able to hide.
"W-we don't have much to lo-lose right now," Javier could barely put together a coherent sentence without stuttering. He pointed out, and Dutch's eyes followed. "O'Driscoll don't have as much pressure as we have right now. I'm afraid I have to insist that we let him go," Pretending not to notice Dutch slowly tilting his head up to him, Javier continued, "because if the government find us, they will kill everyone."
"O'Driscoll..." Dutch's voice dropped an octave, a vein popping up in his forehead, "inSiST?"
"Yeah," Javier's eyes swung around nervously, noticing Arthur looking at him like he was mad, before staring deep into the man's eyes again, "insist."
The way Dutch was staring at him now was deeper and darker than Allenede's glares had ever been. The more Javier thought about it, the more he recognized how crazy Dutch was, or how crazy he perhaps always had been.
He held his ground, staring at the cold, defiant eyes of Dutch van der Linde.
The frozen lands cut through his bones. His heart was racing and he was shocked to find himself wondering if Dutch would draw on him. The sounds of horses neighing and the others preparing quieted and there was nothing in the West able to stop the silence. It vibrated in the frozen lands, increasing in intensity until it was uncontrollable.
"Of course... pal, I understand your perspective, but killing Colm O'Driscoll would solve another one of our problems, wouldn't it?" Dutch challenged with baiting words, his voice cracking some, showing just the shadow of what the man had been either hiding or becoming. "The sooner we get Colm, the sooner we can cover our tracks. Colm will take advantage of us at our lowest. We'll have to take care of them before they get the chance!"
"Dutch-" was all he could say.
Dutch walked in the direction of the Count, being led by Charles, and he nodded in appreciation temporarily. "Thank you, Mr. Smith."
"Dutch, ple-" he started.
"Javier," his voice held a threatening tone now, full of malice and contempt. "We are going after Colm. We have to. Colm must die and his O'Driscoll pack with him. Seeing that you are so averse to it, however, you may stay behind and keep Hosea and Mr. Smith company."
His heart plummeted. "Dutch!"
He'd needed Dutch to listen to him now, just this once. It would be so simple, wouldn't it? Javier was trying to help them survive! He'd always done with Micah! What was the difference between them?
"Now, would you please move out of the way?"
"Dutch…" he pleaded.
"Now."
His two feet moved on their own.
Dutch swung on top of the Count. Arthur's anxious gaze remained on him for a short while longer, before turning to the Walker. Moving his horse to the front of the rest like a cult leader, he shouted words of encouragement.
"Come on, Arthur!"
Once Arthur, seeming reluctant and pitiable, joined him, Dutch raced off, calling for the rest of the gang to follow. The horse's steps sent a chill down Javier's spine. He looked after him, watching as he disappeared...
With Arthur.
How long ago had he thought Arthur was talking crazy for trying to speak that way to Dutch when he'd wanted to rush off and save Abigail?
Arthur saw things he didn't see at the time. He saw the good and bad sides of Dutch. He saw other events. It was the only thing that made sense. Who was to say that Arthur wouldn't see the truths behind Dutch again? Who was to say that Javier would be able to open both his and John's eyes?
Damn it, if he had listened all those years ago, maybe he could have gone off with John to live on his ranch or find his own family.
Desperation roared at him. It was plunging him deeper and deeper into a dark hole, where escape seemed like a brutal, quiet thing. His hands trembled. What had he been thinking?
He should have known that Dutch wouldn't listen to him as long as it wasn't for some scheme like Micah'd come up.
If he ain't ever listened to Arthur and John who'd been by his side far longer, what possible, fleeing chance was there for Javier to convince him?
He was weak.
Completely weak.
Sean.
Hosea.
Lenny.
Molly.
Grimshaw.
Arthur.
John...
They were all going to die, killed by Dutch's plans, and he couldn't do a goddamn thing about it. Just watch. Watch it happen all over again. Try as he might, he still cared for them. Be it from Lenny's joking natures in getting all his books, Grimshaw mothering around the camp, Hosea being the fatherly figure they'd all needed, Sean being the jokester, Arthur, John... all of them!
My punishment.
"Puta madre! Puta madre! PUTA MADRE!" He kicked the stable wall so harshly that the horses neighed with fear. Goddamn it all!
"Javier! Javier! Snap out of it! Come on, tell me what happened!" Harsh breathing and gasps came from the wise, paternal figure of Hosea Matthews.
Vision blurry and fearful, he said. "Oh, Hosea, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I let you down!"
he attempted reaching for Boaz's reins.
Something captured his arm. Gripped his shoulders. He felt two people turning him around.
"Javier, Javier," he averted his eyes at Tilly's voice, not willing to meet her or Charles' gaze. After all, he had left them both behind once before. Even treated Charles with unfounded contempt. He would do so again. "Javier, you've got to talk to us."
"She's right..." Charles added. "You don't have to be alone..."
'Use your brain friend, use your brain...'
'I'll use my brain, and you use yours.'
'Oh, you wanna die?'
But he couldn't. "I... I ca…can't," he stammered. "Not right now."
He compressed another cry, pulled back his arm, and managed to mount the horse. He was being unfair. He knew it. But he had to keep guiding himself forward, one way or another. He urged Boaz forward, as quickly as possible.
Fear drove into his heart, and the more Javier'd thought about it, the more fearful he became.
The ride out didn't take long, and Javier soon found the gang perched on top of a mountain examining the O'Driscoll's camp.
"Well, well, well, look who's finally decided to join us. The little Mexican," Micah said in a grating tone that made Javier want to give the asshole a harder punch.
"Sorry, I'm late," Javier murmured under his breath.
"Are you okay? You were having quite a breakdown back there, Javier." Lenny said with concern.
Javier nodded. "I'll be."
A minute passed in silence...
"Alright, gentlemen. This is it. Are we goddamn ready?" At the echo of acknowledgment, Dutch began issuing a string of orders. When his eyes landed on him, Dutch's eyes briefly flashed before he nodded at last. "Javier, you're going to go with Bill."
Javier could barely hold back a sigh as he moved down the hill with Bill.
"Hey," Bill said with a mocking grin, "heard ya arguing against Dutch! When have you started doubting?"
"I ain't doubting," Javier rebuked, feeling the urge to defend himself from Bill's accusation.
"Yes, you are," Bill snickered unkindly, the sound ticking Javier off. "We're supposed to stay together. Dutch knows what he's doing."
As the two moved to meet up with the rest of the gang, Javier felt the urge to just drop the fucker. The sight of Bill Williamson disgusted him now, almost as much as the man he'd transformed into. He'd led a gang of murderers and rapists. Despite their association, they were far from friends, or even acquaintances. He'd known it was wrong. And despite never saying anything, that was why Javier refused to join Bill's gang when given a chance. Murder was one thing. Rape was another.
He had lots to say. The two were on tense ground at that time, and their rift had grown worse. Whereas Javier regretted what happened and missed the gang, Bill had a cold demeanor about it all, no matter how Dutch treated them after he first met them when they'd split.
Who was Bill to lecture him about loyalty anyhow?
The man clearly didn't care about Dutch in the future.
No, that was wrong.
He ain't ever care about the gang. Was that why Bill wanted charge? To make himself feel relevant and respected when his gang would have never realistically been able to last for long in a world where the West was dying?
"Hey, Bill," Javier spoke instead, his voice darker, "why don't you move in on the O'Driscolls? Use your fatness as protection from me?"
"You think you're better than me?" Bill growled, quick to fall back into his stages of insecurity.
Just as Javier planned. "I don't think. I know. Now, shut up before they figure out we're here, or I'll have to toss you down there..." he threatened with an innocent smile.
Bill's expression gave him an amount of joy that Javier hadn't felt for years.
Now was not the time for such things, however.
Javier trained his sights on the nearest O'Driscoll, toning out Arthur and Dutch's conversation about who would decide what was going on here.
The first gunshot went off, allowing Javier to pull back the hammer and drop the now alarmed hijo de perra onto the ground.
Here they go again...
Another followed, crashing against the startled O'Driscoll. They scurried around, unprepared as the Van Der Linde gang unleashed hell itself on the poor fools.
The Mexican thumbed his revolver, missing none of his shots, grounding them.
"A sniper on the tower!" Lenny shouted, trying to get a good look at the puto, firing his sniper.
Javier aimed and fired twice. The first shot caught the sniper in the shoulder and the second in the forehead, causing his head to bleed out.
"Thanks!" The kid shouted to him.
Javier nodded and smiled slightly, dropping three more that were at his side.
It had been a long time since Javier felt like this.
With his gang.
Mostly, united.
Not yet fully shattered.
Alive...
And for that reason, Javier didn't hesitate as he continued to unleash shots as he came next to Arthur.
It was only afterward when the world slowed and thought came back to his brain when Javier snapped out of the daze.
Staring around at his handiwork, some of the nearby O'Driscolls, he realized he was... revolted now. Despite the adrenaline rush, there was no joy in killing these nameless men. They were found in the dumps just like Javier and taken in by someone who thought they were invincible and too good for the world.
No time to think about it now...
Javier searched frantically through the cabins and under the tower. He'd needed to find that bloody map. Find it and burn it. Find it and make sure Dutch never took digs at Cornwall. That puto was too rich, and it was foolish for them to ever cross him. But...
Doom loomed.
"Did we get everything?" Dutch called out, causing Javier's chest to convulse.
Damn it! Damn it!
Hopefully, someone else did the work for him, or fate decided to be merciful.
"Think so, boss," Micah answered, confirming in Javier's mind that his situation had just worsened. In his right hand were the plans.
"Thank you," Dutch praised.
Barely able to control his glee, the rat smirked, "This is perfect."
Dutch opened the "gift" Micah gave to him, "Oh yes, interesting. A Mr. Leviticus Cornwall."
Words became quieter, the surroundings around him becoming fainter.
This was all for nothing...
'I've failed...'