Summary: January nights in the dessert are no joke. Frustrated with your incessant sniffles, Chavez strikes up a conversation and gets you taken care of. A small gesture that lingers until the morning catches Doc's eye, and suddenly, you're not just a Regulator to Chavez anymore.
WC: 2.2k
Warnings: Language, mentions of being shot/stabbed/hurt, creep!Dave, racist!Dave, sexist!Dave (man, how about stupid!Dave?)
Masterlist
It had to have been hours. You'd been at it since the sun was getting ready for bed, and now, the moon had started its shift. Your hands were clasped between your bent thighs as you laid on the earth, rubbing your legs together like two wet sticks trying to start a fire. The fire did little to toast your back with no one else awake to keep it going.
Exhaustion ate at you. Your graceless tumble off your horse earlier had knocked the wind right out of you (not to mention the pride), making the regular toll of being what was once a Regulator just that much harder. Your body hurt. Your muscles cried for rest. Hell, you were ready to join in on the tears. You pulled the neck of your shirt up over your mouth, hoping to kill two birds with one stone and generate some heat with the sniffles you could no longer control.
It barely helped. Half the time, you didn't want to breathe with how rank the shirt smelled. Your last good rinse had been at least a week ago; it was hard to get privacy that lasted long enough to truly sit in the springs you came across.
"Can you knock that off?"
"Huh?"
You craned your neck over your shoulder, squinting in the direction the voice came from. Chavez blinked back at you from the other side of the fire. When had he woken up? Had you been the cause? God, that would be bad... if anybody was cranky and Billy caught wind, the day would go to hell by noon.
"I said, can you knock that off?" He repeated in the same flat tone. "I'm trying to sleep."
"Oh." You sniffled again, trying to get it together. "Sorry."
"What are you doing that for, anyways?" He asked, dragging a hand down his face.
"I'm tired, and I can't sleep, and I'm sore as hell," you mumbled, rolling over to face him. The fire cast eerie shadows over his sharp jaw. "Why are you awake?"
"Because there's this girl that can't keep her nose shut." Chavez sat up, tugging his wool blanket over him. He'd been smart enough to trade for it in the last pit-stop in Guano City, and he'd be damned if he lent to one of the fools he hung around with. "You're still hurting, huh?"
"Very much so. I bet my ribs will be the most wonderful shade of purple in the morning," you mused. In truth, you though they were purple now, but you needed the sun to check, and his shift didn't start until the morning.
"Come over here." He patted the ground beside him, sending a little dust flying into the fire. "Let me look."
"How are you going to do that?" You inquired.
"With my eyes. Come on. Sooner I look, sooner I can go back to sleep."
You cursed his kindness silently as you stood up. As cold as you were curled up, it was better than being cold and straightened up. You stepped carefully over the lump that was Billy and Doc, wondering how they'd ended up so close when there'd easily been ten feet between them when they called it a night. You plopped down next to Chavez, resisting the urge to pick up the corner of his blanket.
"Lie down," he instructed quietly. "Can't see anything if you're blocking the fire. Mind your hair."
You did so, careful to keep your hair away from the fire. While it was dying, it wasn't dead enough to take baldness out of the equation. Cold hands pushed your vest and shirt out of the way, exposing your middle. He didn't say anything at first, but you could see on his face that your ribs were looking rough.
"Not bruised-- yet, anyways," he said. "But you're still pretty red."
"Well, I hit the ground pretty hard, so..."
"Smartass." A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he tugged your clothes back into place. "Ask Doc about it in the morning."
"What would Doc know? He was a dentist."
"Right, but he's a schoolteacher from the city of New York now. He's surely seen his fair share of falls. Probably knows some big-city tricks for this sort of thing."
"I doubt it," you replied.
"Well, you miss every opportunity you don't take."
"Sounds like my problem and not yours."
"You know," Chavez began. "If you won't accept any help with your ribs, you could let me help with your other problem."
"What's my other problem? Aside from Dave being a creep, and I smell like the horses-gone-even-worse, and the chronic dehydration, and--"
"Yeah, can't help you with those. But you said you were cold." He lifted the corner of his blanket up. The same corner you'd resisted taking for yourself. "And I happen to have a blanket."
"You tried to kick Dave when he asked for it," you reminded him. "You're not exactly the sharing type."
"I'd kick Dave if he said 'good morning' to me," he scoffed. "He's just so... kickable. I don't like him."
"Nobody does. Do you know why Billy even keeps him around?"
"Probably because he's excited. Besides you, he's the young one. He's spry. Hasn't been shot a million times yet."
"You've been shot... what, twice? That's not a million."
"But I've also been stabbed, thrown around, fall down cliffsides, and I've lost years of my life to Chivato over there." He nodded at Billy, whose ankle had become tangled up between Doc's. "But that's beside the point. You're cold. I've got a blanket."
"...are you sure?" You asked quietly. Chavez had never been one to share-- Dave or otherwise. He shared his wisdom like it made him richer, and you weren't sure if he even liked you that much. Yeah, he just checked your ribs for you, and he always made sure you ate, even if it was off his plate, but at the end of the day, he still regarded you with the same distance he did with everyone else. Just with a little more warmth in his eyes. But maybe that was the fire.
"I am. If you're not going to get under the blanket, then I'll gladly keep it all to myself. Move it or lose it."
You sighed, shoving your reservations down with all the other worries you had about riding the trail. You scooted closer; close enough so your shoulder became wedged against his and the blanket could hang down over your side. He adjusted it silently, then let his hand slide down to your waist. It wasn't like how Dave put his hand on your waist. When Asshole Dave, as you called him (it fit much better than 'Arkansas' to you) put his hand on your waist, you wanted to cut his hand off and slap him with it. Chavez, on the other hand, was guiding. Nothing terrible to the touch-- except for how icy his hands always were.
"Lay down," he instructed again. It wasn't like he gave you much of a choice, considering that he never moved his hand from your side. Not until you were flat, anyways. He wiggled his arm up under your head, giving your head something to rest on that wasn't crispy. Dry, maybe, but nothing like the ground. "Better?"
"Yeah," you whispered, ignoring how close he was. It felt stupid, getting butterflies just because you were close to a pal. You weren't one of Doc's schoolgirls; that wasn't like you. "Thank you."
"'course," Chavez replied. "Can't let you suffer when I can do something about it."
"...then why'd you let me hobble around on a sprained ankle after the New Year's dance?"
"What, two years ago?" He chuckled. When was the last time he did that? "I didn't know you. You were still new. You weren't one of us yet. If we went now and you hurt yourself, I'd take care of it."
"How would you do that, Chavez? Cut it off?"
"No," he said simply. "I'd do the same thing I'm doing now. I'd make sure you were warm and comfortable, and you weren't hurt too badly--" He paused, tapping your ribs with your free hand. He drew back the second you winced. "Sorry. I'd make sure you weren't hurt too badly, and I'd tell you to sleep."
"You haven't done that yet," you informed him. "Tell me to sleep, I mean."
"Oh, I haven't?" He let the smile take over this time. He adjusted his hips so he could lean down over you, just slightly. "Here: go to sleep. How was that?"
"Effective, I suppose," you yawned. "Guess that means you have to sleep, too."
"In a bit," Chavez replied, not elaborating further.
"...well, what's the hold up?"
"I gotta make sure somebody else sleeps first," was all he said.
You swallowed. "...all right then," you conceded. "I'll... try not to take too long."
"Take your time," he insisted. He tugged the blanket tighter over you, making the already intimate space feel that much smaller. "No rush."
"All right." Of course, you were going to rush. If he wanted to take care of you and make sure you stayed warm, then the least you could do was make sure he got a decent amount of sleep before Billy woke up and made all the sound in the world. "Goodnight."
"Night."
You closed your eyes for an acceptable amount of time before letting your breath even out. You were nowhere near asleep, but Chavez didn't need to know. Even if he did try to find out, you wouldn't answer because you were pretending to be asleep-- duh. But he didn't. Instead, he gave it a few more minutes, ensuring that you'd fallen deep enough into your "sleep" before tucking his chin down on top of your head and letting his eyes flutter shut.
~~~~~~~~
Some sort of holler woke you. You didn't have to be totally alert to know it was Asshole Dave Rudabaugh, trying to wake you up. You jerked into consciousness and glared at him, only progressing his laughter. You laid your head back down, surprised that you were met with terrain and not an arm. You hadn't even noticed that Chavez was already awake and gone; not with the blanket still around you.
"Rise and shine, Princess!" Dave hooted. "Places to be, people to see!"
"Like your mom?" You mumbled, sitting up. You held the blanket close around your neck. "Where's Chavez?"
"Who cares?" He said. "One less Indian in my gang means it's a good day. Why don't you get up and make us something to eat?"
"I'm not hungry. Where is he?"
"Calm down," Doc spoke up. You squinted in the harsh light, looking for him. You found him by the horses, rifling through his saddlebag. "He just went to the river. He'll be back in a bit."
You hummed and rose, stumbling over to Doc. It didn't feel like your legs wanted to work just yet. Your knees moved freely and your feet flopped. He nodded as you approached.
"Nice blanket," he noted. "Where'd you get it?"
"Shared it with Chavez last night," you mumbled. "What's down at the river?"
"Water, I assume. He didn't say." Doc closed the bag and looked down at you, lips pursed in thought. "He left you with the blanket, huh?"
"Yeah. So?"
"Well, in my time, I've learned a thing or two. Some tribes use blankets as a way to show acceptance. Not all of them. Some use it for healing, or grief, or celebrations."
"That's the teacher in you talking," you asserted. "Why's it matter?"
Doc sighed, putting his hands on your shoulders over the blanket. "Chavez-- he's from... some tribe. I can never remember. Anyways, he left his blanket around your shoulders." He gave you a knowing look. "Need I say more?"
"Yes, Doc. You do."
"I sure hope it's just because you're still tired and you're not actually this dense. My theory is that Chavez is accepting you. Okay? You belong."
"Belong where, exactly?" You scratched the side of your head.
"To-- no, not to him. That's not right. With him?" He shook his head. "Look, I don't have all the facts. But him leaving you with the blanket? It's special. Just... leave it at that, okay?"
"I think you're reading too much into this," you replied. "I was cold, we shared. He woke up before me, he left it with me. Case closed."
"If you say so," he shrugged. "But I think I'm right."
"You spend too much time with Dave. You're starting to sound like him."
"Don't hurt my feelings." He clapped your shoulders, then stepped around you. "Here he comes, why don't you ask him about it? He knows more than me."
You turned to face south, the same as Doc. Sure enough, a horse came up in the near distance. The gallop slowed to a trot as Chavez rode up to the other horses, dismounting with ease. He looked you up and down, acknowledged the blanket, then spoke.
"Morning," he said. "Sleep okay."
"Fine."
"Good. Long ride ahead of us today; make sure you eat." He set his hand on top of your head, messing up your already distasteful hair. Something he'd never done before. He walked past as if it were no big deal, but there was nothing Doc could do to keep the smile off his face.
"Told you," he taunted quietly.
"Shut up, Doc."
Ask to join my taglist! Message me with the character(s) you want to be notified of (or just all posts in general), and I'll add you. Requests are welcome!
Anyways I am BEGGING some future Billy the Kid media to make John Tunstall actually look 24 and like George Michael. Also for them to play Father Figure and emphasize the relationship between Billy and John.
By the time you made it back to the ranch, you had cried yourself to sleep. Tears stained Chavez’s black shirt, and his coat was wrapped around your shoulders. Dick gently pulled you from your safe space in Chavez’s arms while he dismounted. Silently, Chavez took you from Dick and carried you to your room. Your eyes opened as your tense body fell against the softness of the mattress, and the agony from the morning hit you again. Frantically your eyes searched the room for comfort and you choked back a sob. “Chavez..Please. Please tell me he isn’t gone. Please.” It felt as if Murphy himself was ripping Chavez’s heart out of his chest while watching the tears fall freely from your eyes, your body shaking from the sobs and heartache. He pulled you to him, holding you so tight that he may crush you. The two of you sat that way, clinging to each other like burrs on a saddle. When all your tears had been cried, you listened. Silence. Something you had always craved, but was now so unwelcome.
You stood surrounded by your boys, Alex, and Susan as your father was laid to rest.
“For as much as it hath pleased Almighty God, in his wise providence, to take out of this world the soul of our deceased brother, we therefore commit his body to the ground. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.” Susan led you to the wagon while Alex led the boys to JP Wilson. “You can stay with us for as long as you need to Y/n. I know how hard it will be to try to go home now.” You gave her a soft smile as Alex joined you, driving you towards home.
“Deputized?! Alex no! First of all I was his DAUGHTER! I should be there right along with them. Am I not allowed justice? And second, you’re going to let hot-headed Bonney go off with AUTHORITY?”
“Y/n. You are a lady.” Alex’s voice grew stern as he send an almost disapproving look to you. “I know that you are more than capable of taking care of this and yourself, but this is not something you need to do. As for Billy, he has five other level headed young men to keep his straight. They’ll serve their eleven warrants, and it will all be over.”
For days you were a nervous wreck. There had been no word from or about the boys, and worry began gnawing at your thoughts. Your nail beds had become red and raw from anxiously picking at them. Mindlessly, you floated towards the barn searching for a distraction. Before you could reach it, Alex came riding up the road pulling the wagon to a stop next to you.
“Any news, Alex?” Your voice was soft and quiet, but full of hope and worry awaiting any news of your boys. Alex sighed as the paper passed into your hands. “You may have been right about Billy.” He snapped the reins and headed to the house, leaving the dust swirling around you.
“"Nine men lay dead or at death's door yesterday noon following a gunfight between Lincoln resident Henry Hill, forty-five, and what patrons have called a ‘kid’. A local miner has identified 'the Kid’ as one Henry McCarthy, also known as William H. Bonney, nineteen or twenty. In a flaming shootout 'the Kid', Billy, killed Mr. Hill then took on an onslaught of Hill's partisans bringing the damage to six verified slayings. Bonney is believed to be the captain of a deputized gang.”
Murphy is going to kill them all.
chavez pov
There had to be a way out of the mess Billy had created for them, and Chavez only knew one way to find the answer. Snow crunched beneath his bare feet as he searched the ground, gathering what he needed.
Darkness soon surrounded the Regulators, with only a soft light from the fire to illuminate the cup being passed around the circle. “We've come to a place where we are lost, no? When an Indian is lost, he must reach into the spirit world to find the way. On the Spirit Road, he'll be shown a sign. This is the way to the Spirit Road. We're lost right now. But I'll find us the way.”
Steve rolled his eyes as the cup made its way to him, “Oh Christ, Chavez! That's all we need is some more of your red-ass Navajo mambojahambo. We're running out of time here, Chavez.”
“Is that any good? Chavez, what is that?” Charley looked worried looking at the cup being passed around.
A simple reply was given, “Peyote.”
The sun was rising over the mountains, the light slowly filtering through the dust and smoke surrounding Chavez on the ledge he was standing atop. Slowly he turned facing North. East. South. The land was red and the rivers ran with blood in every direction. There must be a way. Please Great Spirits, show me the way. Turning to the west, the blood vanished. A woman turned to greet him, her arms outstretched and her hair flowing in the soft breeze. He reached towards her, only to watch her be pulled onto a golden brown mare and riding off towards Old Mexico. West.
On This Day in 1881, Billy the Kid cheats the hangman.
On This Day in 1881, Billy the Kid cheats the hangman.
John Wesley Hardin. Jesse James. Cole Younger. “Curly” Bill Brocius. Gunslingers, killers, thieves and icons of the Wild West. Of all the Western outlaws none has quite the notoriety of “Billy the Kid.” Questionably accused of killing 21 men (one for each year of his short and violent life), Billy is as much a Wild West icon as Wyatt Earp or ‘Wild Bill”’ Hickok. Ask people today to name the first…
You were trying not to laugh at William ’s attempt to feed the pigs when they rode in that afternoon. The sound of horses alerted you before you ever saw them.
“Daddy! You better come quickly!” You stood tall and proud as Murphy rode towards you with a smirk across his slimy fcae. Your father came to stand next to you. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”
“Good afternoon John.” Sheriff Brady leaned forward on his saddle horn to address your father. “Mr. Dolan and Mr. Murphy are complaining about their merchandise wagon being plundered. They think you’re behind it.” In sync, you and Dick started forward, “That’s a fargin’ lie and you know it!” “Richard. Y/n.” Dick backed down, but you stayed on edge. “Mr. Murphy is going to continue coming to you and claiming I’ve taken his property until I’m pronounced a thief and shaken out of Lincoln. I’ve never touched his property. I have no cause.”
“Well! The Belted Earl has spoken.” Murphy locked onto your eyes, immediately making you uneasy. “Look behind you Earl. All I see are hired thieves. Shame such a pretty girl has to be here with this filth. You could have a fine place with me lass.” The men with Murphy and Brady laughed, all knowing exactly the place Murphy had in mind. “You son of a bi—“ Your words were cut off when Chavez yanked you back, covering your mouth. His soft whispers tickled your ear, “No querida. Not now. Things will only be worse.” You watched as Murphy dropped from his horse, whispering harshly to your father. Chavez pulled you behind him, shielding you from the men’s view. Peering from behind his arm, you watched Murphy mount his horse, readying himself to depart. “You are ambitious Earl. But you’d be better off selling ladies’ undergarments in Hamstead. Get ready for hell!” With the last threat, the group rode off back towards town. You stayed in your place behind Chavez until your father came for you. “Thank you for protecting her. I’ve got her.” Chavez’s warm gaze lingered on your face for a moment, then he turned away. John looped your arm through his and guided you back inside. “Pay him no mind Y/n. He’s just a cruel old man.” But there was more to Mr. Murphy than just cruelty. You could tell from the cloud’s in your father’s eyes that he was worried.
Knock. Knock. “Y/n, dear, could you get that?” You weren’t sure who to expect when you opened the door, no on e really came out to the ranch, and none of the boys knocked. A tall, lanky young man stood at the door, bags tossed carelessly over his shoulders. “May I help you?” The door was open just wide enough for half your body to be seen, and the young man looked taken aback. “Uh, I’m sorry ma’am. I must be at the wrong place. I’m looking for the Tunstall ranch.”“You found it.” The door swung wide, and you were shooed away, barley catching the young man’s name. McCloskey.
William accompanied you and your father into town in the days leading up to New Year’s. William needed nice clothes, and you were allowed a new dress. William and your father smiled as you stepped onto the shop’s porch in your new dress. “Why Miss. Tunstall you look mighty nice!” You smiled at William and gave a twirl, “You clean up nicely too William.” John went to ready the wagon and William helped you up into the seat. “Y/n, I’m mighty thankful for you and John welcoming me in the way you have.”
“You’re family now Billy.”
Waiting outside the ranch home, the boys watched as Chavez threw his knives into the well bucket and admired his skill. Shots were fired from the roof, startling them all.
“Regulators!” William’s laughter died down, and the men all looked towards John. Charlie was the first to speak, “Y/n’s coming isn’t she?” “Who gets to be her escort this year?” The men’s voices began to merge with each other, all eager to see you. Before John could answer, you stepped out onto the porch. “To answer your questions: Yes, I am coming. And no, I do not need an escort. I would like a dance with each of you tonight though.” The boys all grinned and agreed, while your father walked you to the wagon.
You sat with Charlie, Steve, and McCloskey laughing at Billy’s attempt to dance. The music slowed, and eyes fell on you from feet away. Chavez came to you, gently pulling you to your feet. You laid your head onto his chest, and he pulled you tightly against him. Softly, your eyes closed, and you inhaled, drinking in his scent. Warm leather and worn wood filled your senses as he silently swayed and twirled you to the music. As the song came to a close, you looked up to meet his eyes. Dark and earthy like the ground after a fresh rain, illuminated gold by the flickering fire. He leaned in to you, impossibly close. His warm breath fanned across your lips, but just before he melted into you, gunshots rang out. “Happy New Year!” His lips were so close you could feel his words on yours, “Happy New Year querida.”
The sun had just begun to rise on the ride back, and the boys were joyfully singing off key. Your father looked to you, but you were still back in Lincoln, dancing with Chavez. “What’s on your mind dear?” Your eyes kept a far off look, and your voice was soft. “Daddy, how did you know you were in love with Mother?” Memories glazed over John’s eyes and he smiled. “I imagine it was much like what you feel with him.” You head would have flown clean off your body if you had turned any faster, “Him?” John chuckled, “I’ve seen the stolen glances. The longing looks. The dance, just tonight. Chavez is a fine suitor my darling.” A faint blush covered your cheeks. How could your father know what you were just starting to figure out?
The sound of horses behind you pulled both of your from your tender father-daughter moment. “Not the girl.” You started to turn toward the sickening voice, but your father stopped you. “Remember my dear, I will always love you.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek as the bullets flew and he fell to the ground. “DADDY!!!!!” Your body hit the cold, hard ground when you jumped from the wagon. “Daddy no. Please. No. Please.” Your bloodcurdling screams alerted the boys, and both Billy and Chavez began racing towards you. Doc stopped Billy and guided him away as Murphy’s men came barreling towards them. Chavez managed to get to you without being seen, but you refused to move. He found you laying across your father, sobs racking your body. His usually gentle voice was pressing and urgent, “Y/n please, we have to get you out of here before they come back. Querida please.” Screaming, you hit at him, banging your fists against his arms and chest. “NO! Just leave me here to die!” Chavez finally managed to pull you from your father and get you onto his horse. The kicking and screaming subsided, instead turning to silent sobs, as Chavez rode with you held tightly against you.
