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mediocrecowboyhat · 9 hours ago

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Bullets & Claws | Chapter 14

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Word count: 4.1k

Tags: she/her pronouns, gun violence, kidnapping, near death experience (the reader can't avoid it)

Weeks have passed, weeks of you visiting the two shape-shifters every other day or so, to make sure the hunters aren't making a move on them. They haven't. Yet. This is a thin thread of positivity that you're holding on to, because all the other events that have been occurring are less pleasant.

Granted, the bank robbery in Valentine was a roaring success. Karen, Bill, Lenny and Arthur brought in a shit ton of money, leaving Dutch in a rather festive mood, with his voice booming over the camp and singing their praises. It was a job well done, no one can deny that, but you can't help but feel a little grumpy for being left out.

Especially when you saw Karen return that day, cheeks flushed from sheer excitement and her laughter ringing in the air like bells promising a brighter future. Good for her though. Lately, the stress of being chased has gotten to her and you've noticed that she sometimes starts drinking early in the day.

Aside from that, Dutch and Micah also attempted to make peace with Colm O'Driscoll. It was a fool's errand from the very beginning, but as unpleasant as Micah is, he has a way with getting into the leader's brain. It's uncanny and worrisome, but you trust Dutch enough, knowing he would never end up wrapped around that bastard's finger.

Arthur got abducted, but he found his way back. This was an exception, you keep telling yourself. A mistake of that magnitude won't ever happen again, because this gang isn't just a gang. They're family, your family. If someone somehow ends up lost or left behind, Dutch always comes for them. Exactly how he did for Sean. Hell, he even sent Arthur to bust Micah out of prison.

No, this was a one time thing.

"Where do you think we'll go when we get that family's gold?", Javier, who's riding beside you, asks and rips you out of your thoughts.

"Back to the west, I hope.", you murmur, sharing Arthur's sentiment on this.

You too prefer the open country and would rather steer clear from all this dense civilization. There's too much that can go wrong, too many people who could pose a threat. In the distance, you spot the familiar caravans. It has become a routine by now, to stop by Ann's place.

Not to abuse her hospitality too much, you make sure to bring something regularly like freshly hunted game for example. Two well fed Jackrabbits are dangling on the side of your saddle and your mouth waters, as you wonder what she will cook up with them. Ann is a magician in the kitchen, fixing up the most delicious and filling meals with only a handful of ingredients.

Unfortunately, your excitement dampens quite a bit when you inhale. Freshly spilled blood and gunpowder hangs in the air and you involuntarily gag at the intensity. Javier shoots you a concerned look and the two of you halt in the middle of the road.

"What is it?"

"It smells awful, like..." You choke on your words and pull on the yellow neckerchief, because it's starting to feel like it's cutting off your air.

He follows your gaze towards Rhodes and a deep crease takes form between his eyebrows.

"Weren't Sean and some of the others gonna meet the Grays there? For a job?", he mentions and your entire face drops.

If you remember correctly, then Arthur and Micah were supposed to be a part of that too. That explains why it reeks so much of carnage. They must have ran into some trouble and you exchange knowing glances with Javier. Judging by his expression, he must be thinking the same thing.

While you inspect the massacre, you make sure not to enter the town. The main street is littered with dead bodies and the dirt beneath them is drenched in red. The closer you get, the more your stomach turns, until you can't bear it anymore. It's not the sight that has you squirming, but the pungent smell.

The way Javier wrinkles his own nose, tells you everything you need to know and you start to move away again.

"Let's check on Ann and Jo real quick, before going back to camp.", you suggest, earning a nod from your friend.

This time, the neighborhood is entirely empty, but that's not too much of a surprise. The fight could not have happened too long ago and you would hide behind closed doors as well. But when nobody answers after your fifth knock, cold fear takes ahold of you. When you try the handle, it doesn't budge and you can't see anyone through the windows.

Javier and you round the caravan to try out the back door and find it wide open. With your hand hovering over your holstered pistol, you carefully step inside. The place looks as organized as ever, a vast contrast to how Josiah's had looked like when he got taken by those bounty hunters. At least then there were some indicators of a struggle.

Now it looks like they just up and left, without taking any of their personal belongings. All their valuables and clothes are where they're supposed to be and when you take in a deep breath, you don't smell anything suspicious. Though, you have to admit, that your nose is still filled with nothing but death.

Once you step back out again, you sense a pair of eyes bore into the back of skull. Behind you stands a woman, all color drained from her face and she's clutching her own chest with trembling hands. Is she this terrified from what happened over in the town or something else?

"You're lookin' for Ann and her little girl?" Before you can answer, she nods hastily and continues. "Yeah, I've seen ya two 'round their place. They ain't here."

"Where are they?", you ask, moving closer to the woman, but stop when she flinches away.

To smooth the situation, you raise your hands and back off a little to show that you mean no harm.

"No clue." She shakes her head. "A man came over. Watched it all through the window, I did."

You steel your nerves and swallow down your frustration.

"What man?", you manage to say in a somewhat patient tone, although you can't tell for how long.

"He looked like bad news, ma'am. I thought they was gonna fight, but then he said somethin' to the little girl and they went with him."

"The hunter?", Javier murmurs behind you and you throw him a grim look over your shoulder.

That's all he needs for an answer and he place two comforting hands on your arms. Your head is spinning with both anger, worry and guilt, internally scolding yourself out for not taking care of that bastard sooner. Maybe you should have followed him after the first encounter, found his colleagues and shot them all dead.

"We gotta go back to camp.", he says and you let out an outraged noise.

"What? No! We have to track them down!", you hiss, staring at him in utter disbelief.

"And we will, but you saw what happened in town. Dutch probably wants to move again."

Although he's absolutely right, you refuse to look at it that way. When he notices that you're standing your ground, he cups both your cheeks and forces you to meet his gaze. It's difficult to defy him like this, downright impossible in fact.

Cold fear digs it's claws into you the more you imagine what could have happened to Ann and Jo or what is currently happening to them. But Javier has his eyes locked with yours, his calloused hands feeling rather soft against your own skin and you get the sense that it will be okay.

"You're right.", you quietly admit and watch his features relax.

He pulls you in for a short, but comforting hug and you ride back to camp. It's almost entirely empty and dread hangs heavy in the air. Someone is shouting and wailing in the background, a voice you recognize immediately. Abigail.

Before you could make your way towards her to check on her, Hosea gently taps your arm and you stop dead in your tracks. Kieran stands behind him, lips pressed tightly into a thin line and his gaze set firmly onto the ground. You give Hosea a puzzled look.

"They took young Jack.", he tells you and your knees almost buckle.

That's the second kid today and you clasp a hand over your mouth.

"Now, Kieran here says that he saw some of the Braithwaite boys come in here.", he continues and gestures with his hands.

Kieran takes it as a signal for him to elaborate and he does.

"I didn't think nothin' on it! You guys were working together with them, so I thought- I swear, I would have said something sooner!"

Desperation laces each and every word and anger bubbles up in your chest, but only briefly. It's not fair to be furious at him, when he was right to assume those things. Instead, you simply nod, unable to utter a single sound. Javier's presence would have grounded you a bit, but he went straight over to Dutch before Hosea had pulled you to the side.

"We're gonna pay them a visit as soon as possible. We can't lose any time on this, but we don't have the guns for it yet.", Hosea explains. "Arthur and a couple of the others were over at Rhodes, but it was trap, set up by the Grays."

"Yes, we saw it. Afterwards, that is.", you finally manage to croak out and something behind the old man's eyes scares you.

It looks like something is laying on his tongue, something he's holding back and he seems to decide to keep it that way for now.

"I was thinking that you could try to track them down. See, if it really was that wretched hag and her sons and find out where they took him to. You're the best tracker we got."

"Of course.", you answer and immediately get to work.

Knowing that Jack played a lot in the sand, you walk along the river bank first, until you find a set of hoof prints in the dirt. Since your sense of smell is still only picking up the scent of blood and gunpowder, you would have to rely solely on your eyes. After mounting Elinor, you follow the tracks and sniff the air every now and then, to see if you can pick up a scent.

There is something faint in the air, but you're unable to focus on it. Either your sense of smell is still fried or you're too riled up, you can't quite tell. Not that it particularly matters anyways, the tracks are all you need. As Hosea had expected and as Kieran had observed, it seems to lead to the Braithwaite property. Those sons of bitches.

Memories flood your mind, mental images of little Jack. Oh, how his presence lights the mood up in camp with his high pitched laughter. You recall the first time he started adding 'aunt' to your name, when he called out to you and how proudly you had accepted that title.

Or the time he gifted you a flower necklace, that he had made himself. You wore those daisies around your neck like an honor medal, given to you by the president personally.

"Who takes a goddamn boy?", you grumble to no one in particular, too furious to keep your thoughts to yourself.

Lowlives, like them hunters. They take children, rip them out of the safety of their homes and for what? If those Braithwaites have issues with the gang, then they should take it up with the gang and not with an innocent child. Anger pumps through your veins and you forget yourself, nearly riding right into their hands.

You stop just in time to avoid detection and squint your eyes to get a better look. It's dark, but the glow of the lanterns over by the main house, sheds enough light for you to see clearly. It appears deserted, empty and so you draw your attention to any sounds. There are some voices, though too far away to make out what they're saying, and the familiar sound of guns being readied.

The property is crawling with these bastards, as expected, and you begin to ponder. Perhaps you could quietly slip in and search for Jack? If they spot you, they won't hesitate to shoot you where you stand and maybe shoot the boy as well. But if you wait, then who knows what they will do.

Torn on whether you should sneak in or get Dutch, you stand there for a while. Then you shake your head to snap out of it, silently scolding yourself for wasting all this precious time, when it's a luxury that you simply can't afford at this moment. While signaling for Elinor to turn back around, you ride like the wind and follow the road.

The sound of blood rushing in your ears, accompanied by Elinor's hooves drumming against the dirt like thunder, is defeaning. A certain sense of dread hangs over your head like a dark cloud, bearing a wild storm. Eventually, you run into the others, who seem to be on their way to the manor. They stop in their tracks when they see you appear down the road and you halt infront of Dutch.

"Kieran was right. They got him.", you say, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"So you saw him?", John asks, each word carrying a mix of rage, desperation and fear.

You've never seen him this riled up before, but then again, it's his son. It would be strange if he wouldn't be invested.

"I didn't wanna risk detection. It looked like they were all holed up inside the manor.", you answer and watch his face drop.

Dutch tells you to fall in line with the others and follow them to the Braithwaites. Without any objections, you ride alongside the men and follow the pebble road that leads directly to the manor. You all leave your horses and walk the last bit, forming an iron wall that is armed to it's teeth.

Everyone has their guns out, locked and loaded and ready to unleash hell upon this family, that dared to cross the line. In the corner of your eyes, you see how John is fighting an internal battle with himself, struggling to hold back. By the looks of it, he would much rather bolt forward and shoot up the entire state of Lemoyne.

You stay by Javier's side and exchange knowing glances with him. He's got your back and you got his. Dutch's voice booms through the night, holding a deadly promise and a barely contained rage, as he demands Jack's return. Not much to your surprise, his threat falls on deaf ears, and you count the amount of men appearing from within the manor.

While wielding two revolvers, Dutch opens the fire without an ounce of hesitation and takes his sweet time to find cover. If you wouldn't run into danger of ending up like a wheel of swiss cheese, your eyes would have probably stayed glued to the man. The way he strolls to the side while repeatedly pulling the trigger, makes him look like one of the heros this Evelyn Miller writes about in his western books.

You crouch behind a wagon and quickly turn your head, to make sure that Javier is still with you. His expression is hard as steel, his aim firm and steady and you? Like a fool, you're lost between avoiding the downpour of lead and tearing your gaze away from the man. It's not a foreign concept to you, the effect that adrenaline and a dangerous situation can have on people.

A moment of passion, a moment of 'we have survived this hell' that drives folks closer. Though now certainly isn't the time to let your thoughts and feelings get the better of you and you force your attention back to the fight. At one point, you manage to push forward, claiming the wide porch and Dutch, Hosea, John and Arthur vanish inside the manor.

Reinforcements show up at the pebble road, more members of the family and some ranch hands, riding in on horses and coaches. Others are sprinting at your group and you press your back flat against one of the pillars as cover. There's yelling to your left and you throw a quick glance, catching more people trying to flank the manor. They got you surrounded from all sides.

Your legs carry you to the left and you fire shot after shot, while you run from your current pillar to another. Crates are scattered all over the lawn and the men spread out like rats. At this point, it's impossible to tell from where the bullets are coming from, as it feels like they're materializing out of nowhere and coming from everywhere.

Heavy stomping forces your attention to your right, just in time to spot the guy charging at you at full speed. His revolver his raised high, the barrel pointing directly at your face and your muscles move on their own accord. Reaching forward, you swat at his arm, messing up his aim and he misses his mark. Your ears are ringing from the noise and you briefly lose all orientation.

Next thing you know, your world is being turned upside down, as the ground is ripped from beneath your feet. Harshly, you land on your back and the impact knocks out all the air from your lungs. Wheezing and squirming, you try to desperately take a breath and at first, don't even notice the gun re-appearing in your face.

In that second, time seems to stand still. There's only you and your unavoidable judgement awaiting you in the form of a bullet. This is it, the end and you have been reduced to what? The resemblance of a fish on land, gasping for air and clinging onto the thin thread that is it's life?

Another shot falls, but you keep your eyes peeled on the barrel, refusing to have your acceptance of defeat visible. You don't feel anything, no pain. Is this what it's like to die? Does one feel absolutely nothing in their last moments? Suddenly, the man drops down to his knees and you notice the red spot growing on his shirt.

A pair of hands cups both your cheeks and you're met with Javier, his features contorted in sheer terror. He looks like he has seen a ghost, the way he stares at you with wide eyes and parted lips. That's when realization washes over you, closely followed by relief, because you get to see yet another day.

Body trembling, you pull him close, into a bone crushing hug and melt into his embrace. Able to breathe again, you fill your sense with everything that is him, from his scent to the feel of his skin beneath your fingertips.

"Are you okay?", he asks, voice hoarse and breathless.

"Yes.", you croak and pull away.

With his eyes locked with yours, you don't notice that the gunfire has seized, that the Van Der Linde gang has won yet another battle. You recall your thoughts from earlier, the moment of passion and you think to yourself: we have survived this hell.

Something draws you closer to him, a handful of invisible strings that seem to be made out of iron, because you can't muster up the strength to fight them. Javier's hot breath hits your lips, sending a jolt through your body and you completely forget where you are or why you came here in the first place. Now it's just him and your instincts that are screaming for another person's touch.

Then the stinging smell of smoke fills your nose and you immediately snap out of it. Heat radiates off the manor in waves and that's when you notice that it's entirely engulfed in fire. The flames are reaching high into the nightsky and the two of you quickly join the others at the front. A woman is lying before Dutch's feet, her nightgown brown and grey from filth.

"My boys took him to Angelo Bronte, so my guess is, he's either in Saint Denis or on a boat to Italy!", she exclaims, while glaring hateful daggers at the gang leader.

With that, the work here is done and it's time to return back to the horses. Catherine Braithwaite's cries and wails cut through the night like a cold blade, as she makes a run for the blazing house. Her large manor burns like the southern sun, crumbling down onto the soil that is now soaked with the spilled blood of her sons.

This is the end of the family line she was oh so proud of.

This is the aftermath of the Van Der Linde's rage.

And this is only a taste of what's to come.

---

You find yourself in a new camp once again, but now with the extra addition of an actual house. Granted, it's old and not at peak condition, but it has four walls and a roof. It's more than what you had before. After Mr. Milton and Mr. Ross paid your camp at Clemens Point a rather unexpected and unpleasant visit, you were forced to move once more.

Arthur and John cleared out the place, Shady Belle, from it's previous residents. It's still the same state, Lemoyne, but it should buy you some time. Besides, it's right next to Saint Denis where Jack is supposedly being held. Dutch and Arthur are currently in said city and trying to figure out where exactly this Angelo Bronte is.

You, on the other hand, are currently sitting at the camp's outskirt and have your face buried in both hands. First Ann and Jo and now Jack. At least you know where to start looking for the boy, but you got no idea what to do about the shape-shifters. With Rhodes in lockdown and on high alert, it's not like you can go back there and snoop around.

As much as the thought pains you, you might have lost them for good. Chances, that you will manage to retrieve them, are slim if not completely impossible. Tears are burning in your eyes, ashamed and frustrated by your own incompetence. What good is your strength if you allow such things to happen?

Sean too. That was the thing Hosea didn't want to tell you, before he sent you out to track down Jack. His death hits hard, like a slap to the face. No, more like a bat. It's oddly quiet now, without him, and it breaks your heart, knowing that you won't be able to get him back this time by simply ambushing some bounty hunters.

Someone sits down on the grass next to you and you lift your head. Javier softly nudges your shoulder with his and you're being transported back to the Braithwaite manor, back to when you two almost kissed. The memory is still fresh in your mind and heat shoots up into your face.

Back then, in that moment, you were so caught up in your own emotions that you didn't even pay attention if he was moving forward to meet your lips as well. It's totally possible that you were the only one who was going in for the kiss and now he might be wondering what the hell is wrong with you.

But he didn't remove his hands from your cheeks then. No, he had kept them in place and if your mind isn't playing any cruel tricks on you, then you also remember him closing his eyes. So he aimed for a kiss too? As much as it is a relief, because it means that you didn't embarrass yourself out there, what effect will that have on your friendship?

None, if you don't make a big deal out of it. It's not like it carried a deeper meaning. After all, it was merely a moment of passion, nothing to lose your head over.

"I'm gonna tell Charles. Either today or tomorrow.", you say, breaking the silence and pull your knees close to your chest.

"He could help us look for Ann and Jo." When you don't answer, but only wrap your arms around your legs, he places his hand on your back. Immediately, his warmth seeps through the fabric of your blouse and into your body. "We'll find them."

Right now, all you want is to believe him and so you allow yourself this little bit of optimism and hope. Javier slings an arms around your shoulders and pulls you closer into his side. Without inhibition, you fall into him.

Taglist: @zizizi-blogs

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 x reader #bullets & claws #rdr2 javier escuella x reader #rdr2 javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella

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mediocrecowboyhat · 3 days ago

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Bullets & Claws | Chapter 13

I love Arthur with everything I have, so I got no idea why he keeps catching strays in this fic lmao. I swear it's an accident

Previous chapter - Next chapter

Word count: 4.2k

Tags: she/her pronouns, gun violence, period-typical misogyny, period-typical racism

The sun is high in the sky and beating down on you without mercy. While sipping away at your coffee, you have withdrawn yourself closer to the river and under the shade of a tree. The air is heavy and kind of soupy, each breath feeling like someone put a mask over your nose and mouth. People at camp are out and about behind you, while you're enjoying your down time.

Last night was your turn to stand guard and you woke up in the early afternoon, not too long ago. Dutch has been so kind enough to let you rest after getting injured during your last job, the few watch duties that he assigns to you being the only work. It's nice not having to run around in this weather, but at the same time, you feel like you're going to get yourself bored to death.

There isn't much to do during the days, when you're not waiting in the forest with a rifle in your hand. With Josiah around now, it has gotten a little bit exciting, but there's only so much he can do with his little magic tricks. After a while it simply becomes a bit repetitive with the amount of birds that he keeps pulling out of his sleeve.

At this point you're starting to wonder if he's not just a bunch of birds hiding under a trenchcoat instead of a man. The thought makes you chuckle and you curse when you spill some of the coffee over your pants. Here goes another piece of clothing, joining that blouse of yours, that ended up being beyond saving not much to anyone's surprise.

At least the yellow neckerchief that Javier has given you is neat and in tact. Although the southern sun has you melt like a candle on fire and sweat like a sinner in a church, you refuse to take it off. Both to hide your scars and to have something of him on you. As silly as it might sound, sometimes when you close your eyes and focus, you like to pretend that it's his fingers caressing your neck.

The fabric feels so soft against your skin and his scent still lingers on it. Even when he's out doing something for Dutch, it's almost as if he's still there with you. Good Lord, you're acting like some school girl experiencing her first crush. You've killed folks with your bare hands, escaped death more times than you dare to count and now you're sitting under a tree and giggling away over some man.

But he's not just some man. He's your ally, your friend and the only thing on your mind lately. Shaking your head, you banish those thoughts, knowing it would never work out between the two of you. Javier has never expressed any interest in you. You would have seen the signs otherwise, because if there's one thing that you know about him, then it's that he's painfully obvious with those things.

Recalling all those times he had tried to woo a woman is enough to make you wrinkle your nose in second-hand embarrassment. Javier is about as smooth as sandpaper when he puts on his charm or rather attempts to do so.

"My dear!", Dutch calls out and leans against the tree trunk. "How are you feeling?"

Instinctively, your hand goes up to your neck and you hum.

"Better.", you answer and he smiles.

"I'm glad to hear that." There's a pause in which his gaze is set on the water infront of you. "We've made quite the progress with those two families."

Hearing that gets a smile from you too now and you raise your eyebrows.

"Can't say I'm surprised. You and Hosea have always been good with people.", you comment, making him laugh.

"You might be right 'bout that.", he replies with a wave of his hand. "But so you're feelin' good then? I sent out John and Javier to talk to the head of the Gray family. If you can, would you maybe go join them?"

You're too bored to decline the offer for some action and stand up from the ground. After setting your tin cup aside, you swat a bit of dust off your pants.

"I'd be happy to go out for a change."

"Good, good. It's about stealin' some horses from that other family, the Braithwaites. That shouldn't be too big of a deal."

That gets a chuckle out of you.

"Well, if I can't even steal something as simple as a horse then I best hang up my hat now."

Dutch let's out an amused huff at your joke and pats your back.

"You'll do just fine, I reckon."

With that you make your way over to Elinor and ride to the Gray manor. You haven't visited the property yet, but you've passed it enough times while hunting to know where it's located. The guards throw you some odd looks when you approach the large house and one of them raises his hand to stop you.

"I'm supposed to meet some of my associates here regarding some business with horses.", you inform him, before he gets to say anything.

"A feller with a scar and a Mexican?"

"That's them."

With a nod, he points behind him.

"They're out by the stables.", he answers curtly, clearly not in the mood for a chat.

You thank him and follow the path that leads to the back of the property. The guard's eyes bore into the back of your skull, until you take a turn and vanish behind the red brick wall. His reaction to you isn't anything you're not used to. Folks are normally pretty confused when Dutch sends you, a woman, out on these jobs, but maybe they're just not too fond of visitors in general.

Other times, when you're less lucky, people react almost hostile to you. There had been many moments in which they started an argument, before you could even utter a single word. It's frustrating, really. In the distance, you can already hear John's voice, raspy and as recognizable as always.

It sounds like he's talking to an older man, who you assume must be the head of this family. Swiftly, you slide off your saddle and stroll over to the small group. They're gathered by a hay bale with the old man sitting on top of it. Judging by his expression, he's not too excited by whatever John has been trying to sell.

Now comes the moment, where you have to win him over and you dearly hope that the head of the Grays isn't the hostile type. The most ideal outcome would obviously be, that he doesn't care that you're a woman, but that's rather unlikely in these parts. If you're lucky then he will react similarly to his guards.

As you walk in slow and steady steps, you keep your back straight and one hand leisurely on your belt. You can't be too stiff now, can't let him think that you're trying too hard to appear all tough. In moments like this one, it almost feels like you're just attempting to imitate Arthur's walk. The thought leaves you wrinkling your nose ever so slightly, cringing.

John catches your gaze and mild confusion washes over his face, but he quickly masks it. Seems like he didn't expect Dutch to send you over for the job. If Mr. Gray has noticed that, then he isn't showing it and John extends his arm out to you to beckon you closer.

"Have you met my business partner yet?", he asks the old man and now his eyes drift over to you, taking in your entire appearance.

The look on his face doesn't change and remains, as if all this is simply an inconvenience to his daily schedule. As if he's just getting harassed by some kids, who want to push a miracle tonic on him. You clear your throat to avoid a voice crack, knowing how you tend to get with new folks.

"It's very nice to meet you, sir.", you politely say, earning a curt 'uh-huh'.

If it bothers him that he's now doing business with a woman, well, then he has one hell of a poker face. Discontent and mild annoyance is etched into every single feature of his. As much as you would love to glance over to Javier, for some comfort, you refrain from doing so. John on the other hand doesn't let the tension get to him and continues on with the conversation, somewhat smoothing things over.

"Mr. Gray over here told us that he has some trouble with a family. A family of degenerates.", he tells you and you raise your eyebrows in feigned disbelief.

"Well, nobody likes degenerates.", you answer, while keeping up eye contact with the man.

Those words finally get a reaction out of him, although now he's a bit riled up.

"A hag and her inbred sons, they've ruined this county. They killed my uncle, you know?", he spits, cheeks flushed from anger.

It goes on like that a bit longer, the old Gray complaining more about the Braithwaites, while John and you eagerly agree with everything he says. At some point, he even jumps off the hay bale and stomps over into the sun, looking over his property in an attempt to calm down.

He promises gold, but drops no exact amount, only claiming that the sum is large enough. Then he mentions the horses, the ones you're supposed to steal from the Braithwaites, and you're relieved that his back is turned to you. When he says that they're worth $5,000 you almost feel weak in the knees.

The three of you exchange knowing glances, understanding the need to bring the old Gray on your side, but it doesn't look like you have to work on that anymore. Apparently it is enough to join in on his hateful gossip session about the other family and you're fine in his book. The last thing he tells you is to keep his people out of it all publicly.

With the motivation of $5,000, you all ride like the wind. John discusses the plan over his shoulder, suggesting that it would be smarter to not use the main entrance. There's a spot further in the back of the, property where they have only one guard posted and if he gets uppity, he'd be easy to handle.

"I reckon that you knock out the stable guy when we got him distracted.", he says, making you raise an eyebrow.

"Why me?", you ask, throwing a puzzled look towards Javier.

"Cause I've seen you fight before. If Arthur's punches hit like bullets, then yours are goddamn shotgun shells!", John shouts impatiently, as if the answer has been obvious all along.

"He's right with that.", Javier confirms with a nod.

He absolutely is right with that. It's not that you're disagreeing, but the statement has simply caught you off-guard. All this time, you thought that you have been doing a good job in hiding your strength. Sure, the arm wrestling was quite a demonstration, but that was to convince Dutch to let you join on jobs.

But whenever it came to bar brawls, you always made sure to hold back. Maybe you just remember it wrong then, forgetting yourself in the heat of the moment and using your entire force after all. Whatever it is, nobody in the gang has ever questioned you about it, so it doesn't matter what they know or don't know.

Javier and you let John do the talking when you reach the small gate. The guard there is a tad suspicious about your party, but your companion manages to convince him quite easily. Without any issues, he opens the gate to let you through and you pass the crop fields towards the stables.

Your gaze drifts towards the huge manor that is standing tall further ahead. Are Hosea, Sean and Arthur in there right now, discussing on how to hurt the Grays? Are the Braithwaites also promising a big sum of cash or gold, only to be secretive about the amount or where it's stashed? If you weren't so focused on the task at hand, you might be dwelling on it some more.

John takes the lead as well at the stable, but the guy, who's busy polishing a saddle outside, proves to be a tricky one. His bushy eyebrows are furrowed deeply together, the corner of his mouth pointing down, as if your presence alone has ruined his entire day. Even when John drops the hint about there being fine horses, he seems to pull away even more.

"Listen, why don't you get out of here? You, the little lady and your greaser buddy.", he exclaim, earning an offended noise from Javier. "I don't like officials."

Knocking that fucker out will be a great pleasure now. Your fingers are already itching in anticipation from just imagining it.

"We ain't officials! We're connoisseurs, lookin' to do some breeding.", John immediately argues with his hands raised in mock surrender.

The guy thinks about it a few seconds longer, before throwing his polishing rag aside in defeat. With a wave of his hand, he signals you to follow him inside and asks about what specific horses you're looking for. John tells him that you're representing someone big in Saratoga, but that flies over the man's head.

Instead, he leans against a stable door, eyes fixed on the stallion inside. Cerberus, he calls him, but there's little to no resemblance to the creature from mythology. For starters, it has only one head and doesn't look like it's guarding the entrance to the underworld.

Javier and John turn to look at you expectantly and you hastily nod, as if to tell them not to rush you. As silent as ever, you move behind the stable manager and connect your knuckles with his left temple. Something cracks and with a dull thud, he sacks down onto the ground. A puddle of blood forms beneath him and upon closer inspection, you spot a dent in his head.

That punch might have done more than just knock him out.

"Uh-huh? Greaser, huh?", Javier barks at the unconscious man.

You quickly drag the man to a corner to hide him from anyone, who might be passing by. Knocking him out has upset the horses a bit and they're fussing up. It takes a while to calm them down again, but eventually you manage to get them to a point where they allow you to lead them out.

So far it all goes well, nobody is hanging around the stable, meaning no one witnessed the attack. Unfortunately, the fact that you all have now six horses surrounding you, does not go unnoticed and someone sounds the alarm. In an instant, a small army of armed men are on you and you ride, as if the devil himself is after you.

Bullets fly around your head and you duck away, praying that none of them find their mark. While Javier holds onto the stolen horses, John and you flank him, keeping the shooters at bay. Infront of you, on the path that leads out of the property, appears a wagon, probably to block the way.

You cut to the left, jump over the fence and rush towards Clemens Cove, avoiding the roads at all cost. You cross fields and woods, pass a creek, until old house ruins show up in the distance. Off to the side, closer to the river, you spot two figures hanging around by the stone wall. They look identical to each other.

They're staring at you through narrowed eyes. It sure must look strange, the way you practically crashed into this spot with all these horses. One of them introduces himself as Clay Davis and the other as Clive, saying that they're twins. There is a short moment of awkward silence, until John gives them his, yours and Javier's name.

Clay Davis jumps off the stone wall that he's been sitting on up until now and strolls over to Javier. You instinctively tense up, but don't believe that anything will actually happen.

"So what are you?", Clay Davis asks with a nod in your friend's direction. "Cuban?"

"No.", Javier curtly answers, staying in his saddle.

"I don't like Cubans."

You exchange a confused look with John, who only shrugs and scratches the scar on his cheek.

"That so?", Javier responds.

"Maybe...why? What do you care? You ain't Cuban."

"Maybe I like Cubans?"

That makes Clay Davis laugh for some reason, calling him funny. Then he proceeds to talk a bit more about Clive, telling you that he doesn't talk and came out all yellow and blue. For a brief moment, you open your mouth to steer the topic towards the horses, but there's no need for that. He gets to it first.

"I'll give ya $650.", he says and you gritt your teeth.

"We got told that we'd get $5,000 for 'em.", John protests the same second, but Clay huffs in amusement, as if he had made a joke.

"And I was told that the moon was made of ladies' tears. Only that that ain't true. Not one bit." He fishes out a pile of dollar bills and tosses it in your direction for you to catch. "Ain't nobody got $5,000 'round here."

Does he mean the two families by that too? You sure hope not. Though their gold seems to be very well hidden, so perhaps he simply doesn't know of it. One would think that every single fool in Lemoyne should have heard about it though, with how much they keep bragging about it.

Although a bit reluctantly, you three decide to take the money and hand over the horses. There's no other place to sell them to anyways. No stable owner is dumb enough to buy them. One doesn't have to be a psychics to tell that they're stolen property and you can't imagine anyone wanting to mess with the Braithwaites, not the way you all are.

John splits up the money and you pull yourself up onto Elinor.

"You two headin' back to camp with me?", he asks and Javier throws you a curious look.

Are we?

"There's some business we have in town.", you answer, earning a nod from the outlaw before he rides off.

"Business, huh?", Javier questions, as he follows you to Rhodes.

"Remember the two shape-shifters I met the other day? I wanna pay them a visit and I've been meaning to introduce you to them."

"Lead the way then."

On the way to the caravans, you tell him some more about Ann and Jo, mentioning how frightened they were of the hunter in Rhodes. They didn't strike you as people who would put up much of a fight if push comes to shove, but you never know. They might fight, sure, but do they have the necessary skills for it?

"Do you know what animals they turn into?", he then asks, leaving you slightly stunned.

That you do not, but there hasn't been an opportunity to ask them. It's also a strange etiquette thing amongst shape-shifters. While you do have a connection that allows you to spot another of your kind, it's always seen as odd to question someone about their shape. Why that is the case, you can't explain.

"No.", you simply answer.

"Don't you feel it?"

"No? Why would I?"

He shrugs at that.

"You can feel that they're like you, right? How about smelling then?"

A half amused, half offended scoff escapes you.

"What's that supposed to mean?", you question through narrowed eyes, sensing another dog joke building up.

"I don't know. You can tell the difference between animals when you hunt, no?"

Now that gets the gears in your head going. When he formulates it like that, then his assumption makes sense, but you never paid that any mind. With you not taking that into consideration, you never thought of trying to figure out someone's animal based on their scent. Maybe you could give it a try with Ann and Jo now.

And there are the caravans already. You signal him to leave the horses on the outskirts to not get in anyone's way. It seems like people are always outside in this neighborhood, just like right now. As before, when you went to check up on Josiah, folks are either attending to their chores or enjoying the fresh air on their porch.

Ann on the other hand isn't out and about and so you softly knock at the front door. Movement can be heard coming from inside and she opens the door, though only a tiny bit. Her face appears in the crack, tense at first, but she lights up the moment her eyes land on you. Then she swings open the door entirely and greets you with a wide smile.

Until she notices Javier behind you, that is. Wary is now written all over her face again and you give her a reassuring smile.

"Ann, this is my friend Javier.", you tell her and he politely tips his bowl hat, sensing her suspicion.

Extending his hand might make her flinch away.

"It's nice to meet you.", he says and she mumbles something that sounds a lot like 'likewise'.

Quickly, you clear your throat to draw her attention back to you.

"He knows, don't worry.", you add to the introduction, which seems to make her relax a little bit.

It's not much of a surprise that she's cautious, with her knowing that he's an ordinary human. You make a mental note to yourself to thank Javier later, for how smoothly he handled the entire situation. With a nod, she steps aside to let the both of you in and you immediately inform her, that you brought him for a specific reason.,

"In case I'm not at camp, when you come looking for me. You can just ask for Javier in that case.", you end your explanation, as she pulls out chairs for the two of you to sit on.

"You both are too kind.", she says, finally allowing herself to let her guard down around the extra guest.

"It's the least.", you respond and nod when she offers tea.

The air is filled with the smell of fresh mint leaves, reminding you that you wanted to try out Javier's suggestion. As you subtly inhale, you make out a familiar scent that you've encountered quite a lot during your hunting trips. If you're correct with your assumption, then Ann and Jo are both coyotes.

That's when you notice Jo peaking at you from around the corner. Her shoulders are pulled up, as if she's attempting to hide between them and she's fidgeting with her skirt. Javier notices her too and shoots her a welcoming smile, earning one from her as well.

"Hello there, niña.", he speaks up, voice soft and quiet, as if she's a cat that he doesn't want to scare away. "I'm Javier."

"Jo.", she simply squeaks.

"That's a pretty name." His eyes land on something behind her and you follow his gaze. It's a guitar. "Do you like music?"

"It belonged to her father, my late husband, bless his soul.", Ann informs him, a sudden sadness seeming to wash over her. "He played almost every evening. She loved it."

Javier motions at the instrument with his chin.

"Mind, if I play something?", he asks and she hastily shakes her head.

"No, please go ahead. We haven't used that thing since he passed away."

In the last part of her sentence, her voice almost cracks, which she tries to mask by taking a sip from her tea. You remain quiet, watching your friend pick up the instrument and strumming away on the strings. He's not playing anything specific yet, just adjusting it to sound correct.

Once he's done, he clears his throat and begins playing a melody you've heard a lot back at camp. Without noticing it at first, your foot taps against the wooden planks, matching the rhythm, while he plays one of your favorite songs. El Coyotito, Little Coyote. His choice of song almost makes you chuckle.

The longer the song goes on, the more Jo warms up to him, but you can't say that you're surprised. Whenever Javier picks up his guitar around the campfire, it's like magic. Instinctively, your body softly sways from side to side, in sync with his song and Jo is taking a few shy steps in his direction.

So you sit there, sipping away at your tea and hearing him play one song after another. Even if he'd want to stop and put the guitar back on it's place, you don't believe that Jo would let him. It doesn't look like he minds though, in fact, he's doing very good with her.

Watching him like this, you recall him talking about his family a few times around the campfire. If you remember correctly, he has a younger sister back in Mexico. It's evident that he misses her dearly, the way he speaks about her.

Maybe one day he gets to return to her, to his home. You hope so.

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