Javier's Chico

3.

For a moment, Javier's eyes looked wet with tears, but he quickly wiped them away. He liked John, he liked Arthur, Hosea, Dutch, and he liked how they all welcomed him and fed him and his boy when they had nothing to offer in return. Javier didn't like taking without giving something back, but Dutch insisted. But as grateful as he was, he was damning himself for not staying in Mexico, where he promised his lover he would raise their son. Now Mateo was in a new country away from his real family, starving and feeble like Javier.

"Don't let Bill push you around." John continued.

"Sorry...John, I don't understand." Javier laughed softly, taking the beer from John and taking a small sip. John laughed along with him.

The first time Javier had laughed since he came to this camp was sourly interrupted, "Marston, get over here!" Bill's gruff voice shouted, Javier looked at his son beginning to stir in his sleep at the loud voice. The older man walked over and shoved Javier out of the way to get to John. "You ain't possibly talkin' to this.." He spat in Javier's direction, repeating the same slur he had called Mateo.

"Get lost Bill." John spat back, but he saw Javier get worked up, trying to defuse him before he had a chance to retaliate. But Javier clearly had a lot of steam he needed to blow off.

"¡Cierra tu maldita boca!" He shot up like a bullet before he grabbed one of Bill's arms and twisted it, immediately being able to pin him down despite the obvious difference between their body types. His knee pushed down on Bill's back, pinning him to the ground no matter how much the bigger man tried to shove him away. John tried desperately to pry Javier away, but he was shouting in Spanish and wasn't paying attention to anything other than Bill, who clearly couldn't help himself from repeating that damn word over and over. "Bastard!"

Arthur thankfully managed to grab Javier from behind and pull him away before he caused any serious damage. He was a strong, feisty guy despite his size, even Arthur was struggling to hold him still. He was kicking and elbowing Arthur to get him to let go, shouting and cursing in Spanish.

"Enough, both of you!" Dutch came storming over. That was it. Javier stopped fighting back, swallowing a thick lump in his throat. He and Mateo were back on the streets again. "I am sick and tired of this! It's been three days and you can't keep your mouth shut!" But shockingly, he shouted at Bill, not Javier. John placed a hand on Javier's shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"Mateo's awake." Hosea said, amidst the yelling from Williamson and Dutch, and John too. Bundled up in Hosea's arms was Mateo, whining and reaching out two little hands for Javier. His cheeks had wet tear tracks right down his skin, his bottom lip was still trembling. He went straight to Javier and hid into his chest. "I'm really sorry about Bill...He's drunk, borracho. Dutch no está enojado contigo." He butchered half of those words, and his accent made it funny.

"Gracias, señor Matthews. Dutch, I am sorry." Dutch just nodded at Javier's apology, though anyone with a brain could see that wasn't his fault, Bill started it.

"I understand. Tú y Mateo descansen un poco." Hosea continued, placing a hand on Mateo's back.

Javier sighed. "Yes, gracias señor."

~~~

"I don't like having that leech around." Bill muttered angrily, holding a cloth to his bleeding nose. "He's up to no good, Dutch. Little street rats like him kidnap kids, pretend they're their own an' suck the life outta you."

"You sayin' that cause you just got your ass kicked by pure skin and bone?" Arthur teased. John did his best to keep Javier relaxed, but he didn't talk much for the rest of the night.

Dutch sighed. Sometimes he felt like a parent to Bill and Arthur. Arthur bickered with Bill like he did with John, like brothers, and Dutch felt like he was constantly trying to keep a big guy like Bill in line. "I don't give a shit what you think of my choices, bringin' him here, that ain't no reason to be spittin' out that shit, not in front of his kid, not about his kid neither." Dutch shut the both of them down. "Javier is a good kid, he don't mean us no harm. Get to bed, the lot of you, I don't wanna hear another peep from either of you."

John again sat on the log by the fire and watched Javier. His guitar was somber and quiet, Mateo's head lay on his knee and the rest of his little body lay on the bedroll. This time, Javier didn't leave the tent, and after a while, the singing and the guitar stopped.

John wandered over after camp died down to check on them both. He felt an odd feeling whenever Javier and Mateo were around, an urge to help them in any way he could. Dutch was right as always; Javier meant no harm. He just wanted help. Javier lay holding his son under one arm, both in their bedrolls. A family man, that was for sure, but whatever Javier was on the run from, he knew how to fight back. There was way more to him that he let on and John was determined to prove it.