Javier's Chico

3.

Javier had already headed off to his tent. He lay his son back on the bedroll and picked up the guitar John had bought for him, wildly out of tune but he had a good ear for it and tuned it himself. The strumming was calm and quiet and his voice soft, singing in his native tongue. It was faint and quiet to lull his son to sleep, but still loud enough for others to hear. John watched him. Javier had such a relaxing voice and it had already sent Mateo into his slumber, covered up by his father's poncho. So that was why Mateo wanted Javier to get the guitar.

When Mateo didn't stir anymore, Javier leaned over and kissed his forehead, stroking the hair out of his eyes. "Duerme bien, mi chico guapo.." Mateo's chest rose and fell deeply, sensing Javier's touch.

Javier was nice to look at, John thought, watching across the camp. He was so gentle and sweet, he saw how much Javier smiled at his son stroking his cheek as he slept, he must be a family kind of guy. What Javier was doing so far from home, John was dying to know, but it never felt right to ask. And what was it he had done to warrant a dead or alive bounty, he really wanted to know. He was just a man raising his boy in a bad situation.

So the man sat alone in the grass with his guitar, playing tunes with a Spanish flair on them, humming to himself. Arthur caught John staring at the young man. "Go invite him over. He looks lonely." The language barrier was setting Javier apart from the gang, and everyone could tell he was eager to be a part of it. He did a lot for the gang already. Since he came, Javier kept the camp tidy with Grimshaw, she didn't need to tell him what to do. He helped wherever he could, feeding everyone's horses, brushing them, cleaning up the pots when everyone finished eating. But there was definitely more to him that he let on, John saw it in his eyes.

"I don't wanna disturb him is all." John responded.

"I can't imagine a toddler has been much company for him this whole time. Take a beer over for him, he likes talkin' to you." Arthur prompted again, this time giving John two full bottles of beer. "Just try."

John muttered something, his knees cracking as he stood up to head towards the young man. He looked...better, now that he was cleaned up. He was still as thin as a skeleton and sickly looking, but he guessed it wouldn't be long until he started putting on weight and looking less like a corpse.

Javier turned his head immediately when he heard footsteps approaching him, worried that he was disturbing camp. "Hey, Javier, why don't you come over here? Mateo's sleeping, he'll be alright." Swanson, who acted as a camp doctor, took a look at Javier's neck and wrapped a thick gauze over the scar, that Javier covered with his red scarf. It would be a long while before it healed fully, it seemed rather deep.

"I'm okay." His voice still in a hush, too tired and relaxed to speak above a whisper. His words said one thing, but his eyes said another. John couldn't stop staring at those big eyes of Javier; they were so dark yet so full of emotion.

"You look lonely out here on your own. See? Just me, Bill, Arthur and Hosea." Javier still didn't budge when John sat beside him. "Are you upset?"

"No.." His arms were folded over his chest, his hands holding each opposite arm. Something was bothering him.

"I ain't leavin' till you tell me what's wrong. Come on, what is it?"

He breathed a heavy sigh, looking up from his feet and up at John, "Bill...He says..." Javier paused for a second, repeating the slur Bill had used, "He says to Mateo."

"He called him that? He don't know what he's talking about, dumb as a rock. Just come sit with us, have a beer."

"I will not go near him because I will stab him." He said, clear as day. It took John by surprise how clear his English became in that moment. Javier's fists started tensing up as he spoke, looking over, he saw Bill's eyes on him again. He was about to open his mouth again, anger in his eyes, but John stopped him. He covered Javier's mouth with his hand, he knew Javi wouldn't tolerate any sort of shit towards his son but now was not the time for a confrontation. Not after he threatened to stab Bill, no matter how much the old bastard deserved it.