Work Text:
It had been a rough few months for everyone. The massacre in Blackwater, fleeing to the mountains, the disaster that unfolded in Valentine. Finally coming to a rest at Clemen’s Point felt surreal.
The air was humid but quiet. The lake was always calm and the wide open expanse of water helped everyone feel a little more free, while still thankfully hidden away from the public eye. The stress of recent events could still be felt throughout the gang, but there had been a small collective sigh when usual life picked back up following the most recent move.
You’d been able to ride into town a few times, accompanying supply runs or the odd small job but nothing that shook any feathers of the townsfolk surrounding the area. After speaking with a local, you’d been lucky to score some work that utilized your favourite hobby: painting.
There was only one small problem. You didn’t feel comfortable going alone.
Working around strangers didn’t bother you. If you could have your back against a wall and set your canvas up to face something pretty, you were right as rain, but where you’d be working for a few hours with your back to the world, you were concerned passersby might try to take advantage of your vulnerability. Not to mention being a lone person in a new town was always a little nerve-wracking in its own way.
Despite being with the motley crew for as long as you had, you were still intimidated by the man who you’d been lucky to call Boss. His broad chest and imposing figure, deep voice and the way he commanded respect with just a look. You needed to take a breath to steady yourself before seeking him out, art supply bag in hand. You knew you could ask one of the gang yourself, but it didn’t feel right to go behind Dutch’s back like that. You knew he’d be happier giving his blessing, and he’d be able to point out which person was most available to piss away their day watching over you.
You approached the large canvas tent that stood as the crown jewel of the camp. Adorned with fine rugs and furs, at least the finest that outlaws on the run could get their hands on, it was a striking contrast to the shabby fabric tents and makeshift shelters that boarded it. Sweet sounds of opera crooned from the gramophone and the smell of a fine cigar flooded your nostrils. Carefully peeking around the corner you were relieved to see you weren’t interrupting anything important. The tent was often home to discussions of upcoming jobs or knowledge you weren’t deemed privy to, thankfully this time all was quiet. Your boss was simply relaxing on his cot with an Evelyn Miller book in hand.
“Mornin’ Dutch,” you said, gaining the older man’s attention.
“Yes, what is it?” he responded, not wasting time on greetings. He was acutely aware you were there to ask him for something.
Your heartbeat pounded rapidly from your growing nerves. You’d spoken to him from time to time about your art and his literature, but almost never to ask a favour. His curt assumption at your presence did nothing to help. “Well,” you began as you adjusted the leather carrying case in your hands to draw his eye to it, “as you know... I do paintings. Sometimes... -and I was talking to someone in town, they got talking to me about it and he said his brother has this little place in the east end of town and-”
“Cut to the chase, I’m a busy man!” Dutch cut you off gruffly, growing quickly impatient at your disjointed ramblings. Your face flushed bright red as you floundered dreadfully in the face of someone you respected so much.
“Someone asked if I would paint their shop sign,” you explained quickly, adding “they’re not paying a ton but I thought it might be worth the work… I’d just uh… rather not go alone...”
Dutch considered your words for a moment before he sighed, leaning back on his bed with his book again. “Take Javier with you.” He turned his attention away from you. “Maybe if he brings his guitar, both you clowns can make a dollar entertaining the masses.” he joked humorlessly, possibly disappointed that you’d be spending so much time on so little cash. You bowed your head in embarrassment though you hoped it looked like respect.
“Yes Dutch, thank you Dutch!” You said as you scurried away, more than happy to be done with that awful exchange. Dutch had been joking, but as you approached Javier, standing at the lake’s edge enjoying a morning cigarette, you considered asking him if he’d play for you while you worked.
Of all the men Dutch could have directed you to, Javier was actually the one you were most comfortable with. He often spent his breaks nearby while you worked, enjoying the company as he practiced his songs.
“Good mornin’ Javier,” you called cheerfully as you approached his side.
He looked over his shoulder at you and smiled, before groaning through a small stretch. “ Buenos días amigo .” His voice was a little hoarse, like he hadn’t used it yet that morning.
“It’s a nice day.” You said before letting silence fall between you, trying to formulate how you were going to word your question.
He glanced at you, aware you were being unusually quiet. “... It is,” he began suspiciously, “I feel like you’re gonna ask me something…”
“Could you come with me into town to keep an eye on things while I paint?” You blurted, your words tumbling out with little tact. “...Dutch told me to take you so you don’t have much choice,” you added sheepishly.
Javier laughed, then moaned in fake despair, “You’ve gotta be kidding me, a babysitting mission?”
“Oh come on, it’s an excuse to put your feet up all day,” you insisted playfully, knowing he was already on board. A little shyly you added, “you could bring your guitar too… If ya want…”
He dropped his smile for a moment as he considered it, “That could draw unwanted attention.”
“It’s not like I’m robbing anyone. A man in town wanted me to repaint his shop sign. He’s paying me a wage and everything!”
He took a pensive drag on his cigarette and blew it out slowly. As you waited for an answer you realized he might be nervous about playing in front of strangers. You’d only ever seen him practice in camp after all.
“Y’know, sometimes I’m nervous painting in front of folk, I get it if you’re shy-”
“I’m not shy.” He asserted, then laughed in spite of himself realizing how his quick response came across. “It’s just in Rhodes right?”
You nodded.
He rubbed his chin a few times while he gave it some real thought, “You know what? I will bring it. I don’t care what those cabrones think.”
You whooped gleefully and he shook his head at you with a mock eye roll. You followed after him as he walked to pick up his guitar. It was small, the perfect size to wear while horseback. Though he would never risk taking it on a normal job, you were so happy to see him finally play it outside of camp.
~~~
The two of you rode into town side by side. The sun had barely burned off the morning fog as you crossed the train tracks and turned your mounts towards the town’s main street. It was a short trip from where you were camped, thankfully for Javier. You’d been unable to contain your excitement, informing him of your plan for the sign, the notes you’d taken last time you were in town, trying to describe the sketches you’d made and recreating the conversation you had with the local man who got you the job. You knew Javier wasn’t a big fan of incessant chatter, but you couldn’t help yourself. Instead of looking annoyed however he seemed fairly content, as if the sound of you buzzing in his ear was some nostalgic thing.
You smiled at him when he glanced your way as you finally fell silent. He shook his head as he couldn’t help grinning back. You exuded happiness that morning, it was infectious. “I’ve never seen someone so happy to work before,” he joked at you.
You just laughed as you pulled your horse up to the small shop front and dismounted. You walked up the wooden steps and pulled open the front door, with Javier quick to follow.
The older man behind the counter looked up at you and smiled warmly, “morning folks, how can I help ya?”
“Hello! Good morning!” You said a little loudly, you cleared your throat and started again, “I’m the person you hired to paint your shop sign.”
“Oh! Yes, that sign’s been lookin’ so awful it’s scaring my business away.” The man said as he ducked under the counter, pulling out some old cans of paint for you. “These are the colours I used before, you’ll do a sight better ‘an me I’m sure,” he laughed. He turned his attention to Javier, looking briefly apprehensive as he took in his intimidating presence. “Uh, and what can I do ya for sir?” The man asked, trying to keep the same lighthearted tone.
“Wha-” Javier started, seemingly snapped out of a daydream, “oh, I’m just here with them.”
“You don’t mind if he plays guitar while I work, do ya?” You asked, flashing the man your excited smile, adding, “he’s really good.”
Javier snorted at your praise but the man agreed with, “of course, I trust you’ll draw in customers for me with that.”
“I believe so!” You nodded and scooped the can’s of paint up, Javier picked up one you missed and followed you back out.
You set to work mixing the old paint up and assessing the sign versus your notes. You moved quickly about, gathering your tools from your horse and setting things up in a way you felt comfortable, while Javier stood by. When you were settled you glanced to see what he was doing and noticed he had found a spot near the opposite corner of the front porch to lean, arms folded over his chest. He looked uncomfortable.
“Are you alright?” You asked quietly.
“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m fine.” He replied, shifting his shoulders as if he was stretching.
“Okay,” you affirmed before turning to start your work.
~~~
The sun rose lazily in the sky as you painted. You’d laid down a basecoat of the main colour before switching to the next one to start your detailed work. Javier had gone through several cigarettes in silence as he monitored the public around you. He seemed so out of his element. Guiltily you spoke, “I’m sorry Javier, I didn’t mean for this to turn into an actual babysitting job.”
He shook his head, as if snapping out of a thought, “oh it’s fine, it’s nice to have an excuse to rest.”
“But… you’ve been standing.” You pointed out.
He shrugged.
“I’ll… probably be fine on my own if you wanted to lea-”
“No amigo , don’t worry about me,” he said with a smile, but it looked forced. He lit yet another cigarette.
You looked at your work for a moment before getting an idea. “Ya know, if you played something it might pass the time…,” you glanced up at him with your eyebrows raised, he scoffed. Slyly you added, “but if you’re too shy-”
Javier huffed. “I’m not.”
“Sure, whatever you say!” You laughed mischievously. “It takes guts, doin’ what I’m doin’, letting my art be a spectacle for the people! It’s not for everyone!”
Javier flicked the half finished butt to the ground, walking over to the side of the porch where you were painting, his spurs ringing out dramatically with each step. He said nothing, but grabbed the guitar from Boaz’s saddle and climbed the ledge to sit next to you against the building. He strummed the strings once defiantly looking up at you. His attention was drawn forward when a group of townsfolk walking by stopped momentarily to seek out the sound. He pulled his hat a little lower and you heard him let out a small sigh. Your smile couldn’t be bigger.
Finally he collected himself and began to strum a small tune quietly. You sighed in satisfaction at the sweet music. His playing never failed to relax you. As you swiped more paint onto the sign you felt your hand flow a little more freely, the swirls and adornments you were adding to the edges were just a little more playful. When the last note of his song rang out, the gentleman reading his paper on the balcony next to you gave a thankful clap. You beamed at Javier.
He just groaned. He didn’t look so tough and scary with the guitar in his lap. You figured that might be why he only played in camp, because he felt comfortable enough to let his guard down a little. Your smile faded to a look of concern.
“You don’t have to keep playing if ya don’t want to,” you said softly so only he could hear, “I’m sorry I forced the issue.”
He pushed his hat up and glanced at you through his eyelashes. “It’s alright. It was actually kind of fun.” He shrugged before assuring you again, “I’m not shy.” You couldn’t be sure before he pulled his hat back down but you thought you caught a little redness on his cheeks.
You smiled again. He could be so sweet. “Could you play El Coyotito ?”
“Sing?” he exclaimed, looking up at you sharply before catching himself and adjusting his posture to examine his guitar, “Ehh, not yet.” he added, trying to recover his cool composure.
He took a deep breath and began to strum again, this time louder. You loved the song he’d chosen. It was one he practiced at camp fairly often but the melody never got old for you. You softly hummed along, painting away until suddenly he stopped with a scratch of his strings. Glancing up you saw a coin sitting at his feet. He stared at it for a moment before looking up at you with an amused look on his face.
“I told you! You’re really good!” You cheered for him, glancing back at the passerby who’d tossed the coin. They looked a little bewildered that Javier had stopped but carried on their way.
“I guess so,” he mused, picking up the coin and pocketing it.
“If you place your hat in front of you maybe it’ll happen more often,” you suggested with a shrug. You knew he took excellent care of that hat so the likelihood of him doing that was low. He just chuckled in reply before plucking away with another tune.
You smiled peacefully as you enjoyed the music.
~~~
Evening took hold before you two had realized it. With the last swipe of the brush you completed your work for the shop owner. You stepped down off the deck and into the street to examine your work. Javier joined your side, guitar in hand.
“You did a great job,” he praised, adding, “your hands must be exhausted.”
“Speak for yourself!” you laughed. Javier had played by your side for hours, taking a break to eat lunch with you and to smoke but otherwise strummed most of the day away.
“Eh, I was glad to have the chance to practice,” he said with a content smile. You loved the way music changed his mood. He was like a different person when he played, brighter and happier, like all the stress of the outlaw life melted away with the melodies.
“The folks around here seemed glad for it too,” you said, motioning to the coins in his pockets. Around midday you had placed your spare hat down for him, and it worked as you hoped. Folks milling about admired the music with both praise and cash. By the end of the day you’d both earned a tidy sum.
He just shrugged, grinning.
You both walked back to the shop together to collect your payment. The shopkeeper was thrilled with your work, and grabbed Javier’s hand to shake, leaving him with a tip as well. “Ya’ll brought me more business today than I’ve had in weeks, if you’re ever back in town you’re welcome to stop by and play again!”
You both bashfully thanked him for everything before walking back to your horses. The sun was beginning to set when you mounted up again. You turned your horse to head back to camp when Javier stopped you.
“Before we go… could I buy you a drink?”
You looked curiously back at him, you were covered in stray splotches of paint and not really dressed for going out. You figured if he was asking though he didn’t mind all that. “Sure, but what for?” There was playful suspicion in your voice.
He was still grinning happily when he said, “celebration for our first honest day’s work.”
You both laughed as you pulled your horse alongside his and made your way merrily together to the nearest saloon.