Javier's Chico

2.

Mateo was such an innocent boy, and Javier seemed like a great dad. He made sure Mateo was comfy and sleeping before he went to sleep that night, and the next morning, he fed Mateo first before he ate his own food. And as for the boy, he was the shyest little guy Arthur had ever seen. Though, around Javier, Mateo never stopped talking. None of them had a clue what they were saying to each other, but it was nice seeing Mateo smile a little.

John just couldn't stop thinking about the scar on Javier's neck...he was running from someone, something. No wonder he was so desperate to find someone to take Mateo; Hosea had found a bounty poster from Mexico, Javier wanted for a thousand dollars, dead or alive. But seeing the man sit in the grass with his little boy making flower chains...he didn't seem like much of a criminal, more of just a man wanting a better life for his son.

Arthur wondered what they were talking about every time one of them spoke Spanish. It was useless trying to pry Javier away to talk, he had no idea what Arthur was saying to him, and he refused to speak to Hosea earlier that day because Mateo was afraid of him. They both seemed rather content with only talking to each other, but still, Javier looked lonely. Especially after he put Mateo down to sleep, he just dat there, staring at the others before giving up and just going to sleep. And in the morning, he and Mateo stayed in their tent.

"Javier, come with me." John gestured at him, pointing towards his horse. "Dutch told me I gotta take you to town." The younger man didn't respond. "Fuck...What's the word? Javier, vamos."

Javier paused, trying to remember the few words he remembered from Hosea's very brief lesson and the words he'd picked up over time, before he nodded a little and followed John towards the horses, with his boy trailing behind. John mounted his horse first, Javier put Mateo behind John so he was safe in between both of them. John really could tell they had been out in the hot weather for a long time, they smelled horribly.

The town wasn't too far away, and it was a place Javier had been in before. Though, when he was there, he and his son slept inside a hotel bathroom before they were discovered by a hotel guest and were thrown onto the streets where they slept for the rest of the night. The hotel was where John hitched his horse and helped them both down.

"Vamos, come." John repeated again, grabbing Javier's hand since he seemed to be in a world of his own.

He led them to the hotel and immediately, he was recognised by the hotel owner. "Looks like the damn street rats finally found someone to leech on." Mateo cowered, holding Javier's hand and hiding between a wall of his father's and John's legs.

"I'd like to pay for two baths." John ignored the clerk.

"I heard about all these fellers coming over from Mexico, they all pretend to be poor and innocent, then they rob you blind. An' I can tell this one is no different."

"Okay buddy, I didn't ask. Get me two baths or I'll take them somewhere else."

Street rat, Javier knew what that meant. A leech too. Anyone that had helped him eventually tossed him back into the mud and called him a leech. In those few occasions where someone had helped, Javier's hunger got the best of him and they'd find him stuffing his pockets with food. They'd pull the bread right out of his mouth and throw him back. He was once a religious man, not so much in his recent years, but that night before he prayed to God that this gang wouldn't throw him back too. That even if he was just a leech or a street rat, someone in the gang would take Mateo and give him a better life. He couldn't cope if it happened one more time.

"You must be crazy or an idiot to believe this fool.." The man muttered under his breath, taking the fifty cents from John and leading them down to one bath room, with nothing more than a wooden tub already filled.

The man left them in there and Javier gestured for John to get out while he bathed his son. He hadn't smelled the cleanliness in such a long time, and the warm water was so inviting. But as always, his boy came first.

He saw Mateo's relief when his toes touched the warm water, splashing the bubbles and making a mess all over Javier. His fingers were gentle in Mateo's curly hair, brushing out every little knot. He wanted his son to look nice and presentable, back in Mexico, he was always wearing nice clothes. They'd since been turned to rags and anything they could get their hands on. At Mateo's age, he was a filthy child, his father was a miserable, drunk bastard, and his mother...well, she did her best with two children. Mateo was not going to have the horrible childhood he had.

He had to stand Mateo up in the bath since the water was rather deep. "Cierra tus ojos..." He said, Mateo shut his eyes as Javier used the sponge and lightly wiped away the dirt on his face, then cleaning the rest of the dirt from his son. When Mateo was clean, he wrapped him up in a towel to dry him off before donning his dirty clothes again. He slowly opened the door, leading Mateo to John. "John...uh, I need to." He pointed at the bathtub.

"You want me to watch him?" John asked, looking down at the boy. His hair was dripping wet and he was shivering. John took his own coat off and wrapped it over Mateo's shoulders. His clothes were rather thin and worn out, and he wasn't even wearing any shoes. "C'mere little feller.."

"Please, yes."

"Got it. Take your time." Javier nodded, shutting the door again before removing his own clothes and climbing into the bath. It had been a long time since he felt so relaxed. Normally, back in Mexico, when he wanted to take a bath he'd have his sister watch Mateo. It felt odd to trust a total stranger with him, but John seemed nice enough.

He sighed with relief, closing his eyes and relaxing before he started cleaning himself with the same rag he used on Mateo. He sunk too far into the tub and felt soapy water sting the scar on his neck. He suddenly shot up, yelping in pain"¡Ay, maldito infierno!" He yelled, grabbing another towel to dry off his now wet, fresh scar on his throat.

The door swung open, John stood with Mateo now in his arms. "Can—Can I help you?" John asked, and he could see Javier thinking before he nodded, still pressing that towel against his throat. John almost regretted the offer, seating Mateo down on the floor before approaching the tub. "Hold it." His hand touched Javier's, gesturing for him to keep the towel on his throat.

As Javier did with his son, John scrubbed Javier's long, tangled hair, till it was straight and smooth and he could glide his fingers through. He helped to scrub off the dirt caked into his body hair, and God, there was a lot of it.

He helped Javier out of the tub and left the room again so they could get dressed into clothes Arthur had borrowed him, Mateo still in the same rags as before. Their hair was already starting to dry in the sun and Javier looked rather nice when he was all cleaned up. Though the clothes were really just hanging off of him. Arthur was a lot bigger than Javier.

His boy held his hand tight as they followed John around, into a store. There, he instructed Javier to pick some clothes for himself and for Mateo, and get some more candies. Mateo was already starting to pick up on certain words and he started bouncing on his toes at the mention of candy.

When Javier stepped out of the store, he looked like a new man. White shirt, a grey jacket and a blue vest, and a red scarf to cover his scar. As for Mateo, a sweet white little button up shirt with suspenders to hold up his grey knee high shorts, and finally some shoes for the poor kid. He also carried out a pile of other clothes he bought.

"John! Candies!" Mateo offered his bag of candies to John, holding up one finger to tell him to take one.

"That's alright kid. You eat. You both look great."

"Thank you for help."

John laughed a little at the broken English. "That's alright Javier, let's get—"

"¡Papá! ¡Guitarra!" His son started dragging on Javier's hand towards the same store he'd been in, with a nice looking guitar sitting in the window.

"No tengo dinero. Tal vez otro día. Sorry. We go."

"You play guitar?" Javier nodded. "I mean...I can get it for you. But, you have to promise to play me some songs." When Javier didn't respond, completely confused at what John said, he placed twenty dollars in his hand. "Buy the guitar."