Chapter Text
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Neuvillette had been dozing off, his head resting on the window of the stagecoach when he was brutally pulled awake by the thundering sound of horses’ hooves, gunfire and loud voices. Disoriented, he pulled the curtains covering the window away, revealing the desolate scenery of the Frontier, miles of barren land, cacti and dry bushes with the mid-afternoon sun beaming down from above. More gunshots were heard, and Neuvillette’s heart beat faster as he slid the windowpane open to peek his head outside.
He gasped fearfully at the sight of four men mounted on horses and armed with rifles pursuing his stagecoach down the dirt road. The lower part of their faces was covered with scarves to protect them from the dust, making them look even more menacing. More shots were fired, and Neuvillette had to retreat inside the stagecoach less he caught a stray bullet.
This was a robbery, he realized fearfully. Of course it was. Neuvillette had been warned when he left Galveston about bandits roaming the road towards Fort Worth, but there had been no one willing to take on the task to protect him along the way, even with the promise of pay. All Neuvillette had received were disdainful gazes thrown his way, with muttered curses at his status of wealthy Englishman coming to the Frontier to live off his family’s money.
This all unfortunately led him to the present situation, with his stagecoach the prime target for opportunistic outlaws.
A bullet flew right past his head and Neuvillette quickly ducked down beneath the window, making himself as small as possible as he prayed to be spared. Not being able to see what was happening outside didn’t make it any easier for him. He heard the horses run past the stagecoach, followed by more bullets and by a loud thud against the front of the carriage, like something heavy falling against it. Then came the sound of ropes being snapped, and the stagecoach suddenly veered off to the side of the road.
Neuvillette realized just as the carriage began flipping to its side, that the horses leading it had been set free, sending the stagecoach into a ditch. He tried to hold onto something, but as the stagecoach completely flipped upside down, he was violently thrown into the roof of the carriage. The air was punched out of his lungs as his back collided with the hardwood.
Disoriented, Neuvillette groaned in pain. He heard horses stop nearby and voices approaching his position. He couldn’t stay here. The bandits would find him and kill him! Neuvillette rolled onto his stomach and pushed hard against the door, but it refused to budge. The door was busted. Gritting his teeth, Neuvillette kept pushing harder and harder against the door until it eventually burst open, falling off its hinges. Neuvillette crawled out of the upturned stagecoach and pulled himself to his feet, immediately bolting off in a random direction, adrenaline pumping into his veins.
He heard loud voices behind him and he knew he had already been spotted. Neuvillette didn’t turn to look. He kept running through the desolate desert scenery, cursing the lack of cover as he began hearing bullets flying by him and horses approaching rapidly.
Another bullet was fired and Neuvillette cried out in pain when it badly clipped his right arm. The pain was searing, but Neuvillette ignored it as he kept running. However, luck wasn’t on his side. One of the bandits caught up to him, and with a precise whip of his lasso, he tripped Neuvillette to the ground.
Neuvillette got back on his knees, but before he could try to get up and run again, the bandit jumped down from his horse and pointed his pistol at his forehead. Neuvillette froze in terror, his gaze locked on the barrel of the deadly weapon, waiting for the upcoming bullet to end his life.
“Leo! Don’t kill him yet!” yelled a second bandit as he stopped his horse right next to the tall, menacing brute holding Neuvillette at gunpoint.
Leo grunted in annoyance. He kept the gun pointed at Neuvillette, but at least his finger moved away from the trigger.
The other bandit dismounted and squatted in front of Neuvillette. He pulled down his scarf, revealing two rows of rotted teeth as he smiled crookedly. “What’s your name, pretty boy? What you doing here all alone?”
Neuvillette wanted to stay stubbornly silent, but he was well aware of what could await him if he disobeyed. He gritted his teeth and answered as calmly as he could; “I’m - I’m Neuvillette. I come from England, here to join my older brother to work on his ranch with him.”
The man with rotten teeth cackled and threw an excited look at his companion Leo. “He’s one of those rich fuckers from England! I bet we can get a pretty good ransom for him! Good thing I stopped you, Leo!” he exclaimed as he slapped Leo’s arm, making the gun jostle in the latter’s hand. Neuvillette’s heart skipped a beat and he felt nauseous from the fear of it firing off by accident.
Leo looked pleased too. His partner in crime grabbed Neuvillette’s arm in a painful hold and yanked him to his feet. Neuvillette grimaced in disgust when he smelled the man’s foul breath on his cheek.
“Come on, you’ll lead us to that ranch. One wrong move, you try to run, Leo’s putting a bullet in your brain, got it?” said the man, followed by an amused laugh from Leo.
Neuvillette swallowed nervously and nodded. “Yes.” He had no choice but to go along with them, and hoped that once they got the ransom from his brother, that they would spare his life.
He highly doubted it.
The man yanked him forward as he began walking, holding the bridle of his horse in his free hand. When Neuvillette dragged behind a bit, Leo pushed him harshly forward, almost making him trip on the uneven terrain.
“Move faster,” grumbled Leo.
Neuvillette obeyed, making sure to keep pace with the man still holding hard onto his arm as he didn’t want to give them any reason to think he was more trouble than he was worth. They made their way back to the road, passing the stagecoach where the two other bandits were going through Neuvillette’s belongings, rummaging through his clothes and personal effects in search of anything of value.
Neuvillette averted his eyes when they landed on the corpse of the driver lying by the side of the road, riddled with bullets. The poor man had not deserved this fate. Neuvillette had no doubt he would have suffered the same had he not been deemed more valuable alive.
Neuvillette watched with anxiety as the two bandits going through his belongings came back to the road, carrying every valuable he had brought along with him. They packed everything in the saddlebags of their horses and mounted them, getting ready to depart. Neuvillette was pulled towards his captive’s horse, about to be forced to climb onto it when it happened.
The unknown cowboy seemingly came out of nowhere, his horse galloping fast down the road towards them. The bandits had been too focused on their successful robbery that they were taken by surprise. The rider was upon them before they could begin firing at him. Leo went down first when the cowboy aimed his rifle and shot one single bullet that lodged itself between his brows.
Now that no guns were aimed at him anymore, Neuvillette ripped his arm free from his captor and ran towards the stagecoach to find cover behind it. His ears rang with screams and gunfire, and he closed his eyes as he anxiously waited for the chaos to be over one way or another, praying for his unlikely savior to come up on top.
It felt like an eternity passed before he heard the sound of horses galloping away and several more gunshots, before an eerily silence fell over the valley. Neuvillette’s heart was in his throat by the time he heard someone dismount a horse and footsteps coming closer.
Neuvillette feared looking over the stagecoach to witness who had emerged victorious. He was debating on what he should do when he heard a voice shout; “You can come out now!! It’s safe!”
This wasn’t Leo’s voice or the other bandit who had held him captive. Taking his chances, Neuvillette slowly stood up on shaking legs and came out from behind the stagecoach, just in time to see his savior stop a few feet away from him, holding the bridle of his horse.
Neuvillette could finally take a good look at him. The cowboy was tall and broad-shouldered, his tanned skin covered in a fine layer of dust. Beneath his brown cowboy hat was a head of messy salt and pepper hair falling over his sweat-covered forehead. The bluest pair of eyes Neuvillette had ever seen gazed at him, and beneath the right one was a jagged scar splitting the man’s cheek. Similar scars covered the exposed skin of the cowboy’s forearms, and paired with his worn down clothes, it was evidence of a hard life lived on the road at the Frontier.
The man pulled down the red scarf covering the bottom part of his face, revealing a strong jaw covered in a five o’clock shadow and a pair of chapped lips. Now that Neuvillette could see his entire face, he could estimate that this stranger didn’t seem that much older than him.
This man, his savior, was roguishly handsome, Neuvillette had to admit.
Those icy blue eyes roamed all over Neuvillette’s face with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine.
“Are you okay?” asked the cowboy with genuine concern. His voice was pleasant and a little bit raspy, and Neuvillette found his anxiety slowly melting away at finding no sign that this stranger was going to hurt him as well.
“Y - yes, I think,” answered Neuvillette, wiping his own sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand. He gasped in pain when his wound throbbed painfully under the sudden movement.
The cowboy noticed the blood that had soaked through the sleeve of Neuvillette’s white dress shirt. “Your arm. You’re bleeding,” he noted with a frown.
At the sight of the amount of blood he had lost, Neuvillette suddenly found himself dizzy. He stepped back until his lower back was pressed against the upturned stagecoach. “A - a bullet grazed me,” he explained breathlessly.
Neuvillette’s savior took a step forward and pointed a finger at his wounded arm. “Let me have a look.”
Neuvillette hesitated only for a moment, wondering if this stranger knew anything about first aid, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to let him inspect his wound since he didn’t seem to have bad intentions like the others.
Neuvillette nodded, and it was all the invitation the cowboy needed to breach the rest of the distance. He gently held Neuvillette’s arm while he unsheathed a hunting knife hanging at his belt. Neuvillette tensed at the sight of the blade, but he relaxed when the stranger only used it to cut a wider hole in his already ruined shirt so he could examine the wound.
“This will need stitches. Should probably get a doctor to look at it unless you want it to scar badly, but seeing we’re far away from civilization, you might have no choice on the matter. For now, I can disinfect your wound and temporarily bandage it for you, if you want,” offered the cowboy.
“Alright,” agreed Neuvillette. He wasn’t looking forward to getting an infection or keep losing blood. He himself had next to no knowledge in first aid.
The cowboy turned towards his horse, a beautiful black stallion. Neuvillette watched as he took a glass bottle out of the saddlebags and faced him again. The Englishman guessed it was some kind of unlabeled alcohol, probably strong enough to be used as disinfectant.
Neuvillette let the cowboy hold his arm again, and having uncorked the bottle beforehand, he carefully let the transparent liquid pour onto his wound. The painful sting was instantaneous, and Neuvillette bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from moaning in pain.
Once he poured enough alcohol on the wound to hopefully disinfect it, the cowboy put the bottle back in the saddlebag and untied his red scarf from around his neck. He gently wrapped the fabric around the wound, making sure to tie it tight enough, but not to the point of cutting Neuvillette’s circulation. His fingers were surprisingly gentle for looking so rough and calloused.
Neuvillette observed his savior closely as he finished tying the knot. “What’s your name, sir?” he asked softly.
The cowboy lifted an eyebrow, looking amused. “Sir? Please. I’m no sir. The name’s Wriothesley.”
Up close like this, Wriothesley’s eyes reminded Neuvillette of the color of the ice during the dead of winter, when the sun reflected on its surface. They were beautiful. He had trouble looking away from them.
“Pleased to meet you, Wriothesley. My name is Neuvillette. Thank you for saving me,” he managed to say after too many seconds of silent staring.
Wriothesley stepped back once he was done with the makeshift bandage. He put his hands on his hips. “Don’t mention it. I couldn’t turn a blind eye when I saw what was happening. You don’t look like you’re from around here, Neuvillette. Where are you headed?”
His gaze roamed not too subtly over Neuvillette’s body, taking in his appearance. Neuvillette supposed he stood out like a sore thumb out in the wilderness, especially compared to how rough looking the men at the Frontier looked. Neuvillette was the complete opposite, with his fair skin that did not see much sun before this trip, long silver hair, manicured nails and his tailored waistcoat and trousers. Neuvillette understood why he had attracted many gazes ever since he stepped off the ship at the harbor. His wealthy heritage was plain for all eyes to see.
Neuvillette tried to ignore the wandering gaze on him as he answered; “My brother has a ranch near Fort Worth. I was supposed to join him, but I seem to find myself stranded here now.” He sighed dejectedly. What was he going to do now?
Wriothesley crossed his arms over his chest and hummed. “You’re still very far from your destination. It’s gonna take you close to a week if not more to get there by foot, and you’ll be an easy target for outlaws and coyotes. But… I can take you there, for a price,” offered the cowboy.
Neuvillette eyed the man’s horse, the only one left around. The two bandits who had packed his stolen belongings on their horses had managed to flee, considering their corpses were nowhere to be seen. Neuvillette supposed the best and safest option was to share a horse with Wriothesley. There was just one problem. “I’m afraid all of my money was stolen during the attack. But once at the ranch, I could repay you if -”
Neuvillette was interrupted by a chuckle. Mirth shone in his savior’s icy gaze when he answered with a smooth voice; “Pretty as you are, I wouldn’t be opposed to being paid back in another way.” The words were followed by a wink and a charming smile.
Neuvillette immediately understood the meaning of the man’s words. He scoffed, completely outraged. “How preposterous! I am no prostitute! How dare you!” His cheeks burned in mortification and shame.
Never in his life had he been propositioned by a man before! The nerve of this man!
Neuvillette was so appalled that he pushed past the cowboy and began walking back towards the road with the intent of making his way on foot if he needed to. He heard a hearty laugh and he looked over his shoulder to glare at Wriothesley who was following him with an amused smile on his lips.
“Relax, Neuvillette, I was teasing you! I didn’t mean to offend your delicate sensibilities,” he said with amusement.
Somehow, the cowboy’s words annoyed him even more. Teasing him to get a reaction out of him? Neuvillette was beginning to doubt his good intentions. “You are a rascal! A boor!” exclaimed the Englishman with annoyance.
Wriothesley laughed even more. He hurried his pace to get in front of Neuvillette, and he turned towards him, walking backwards as they made it back to the dirt road.
Wriothesley said as he affectionately stroked the neck of his horse; “And your only means to make it safely to your brother’s ranch! So, you coming?”
Neuvillette stopped walking and threw a glare at Wriothesley. He weighed his options, but in the end it wasn’t a difficult decision. He really didn’t like his chances of survival if he was to try walking to his brother’s ranch. He had no food, no water, no weapons… And looking at Wriothesley now, it did seem like he was merely teasing him and was not expecting that Neuvillette repay him with his body.
In the end, Neuvillette sighed as he approached Wriothesley and his horse. “Fine. But I will keep my eyes on you. If you try anything unsavory…” warned Neuvillette as he narrowed his eyes. He knew those were empty words. If Wriothesley tried to assault him, it was clear that he could easily overpower Neuvillette and do what he wanted with him. Neuvillette prayed that he wasn’t making a bad decision by trusting this stranger.
The cowboy seemed even more amused by the empty threat. He watched Neuvillette from the corner of his eye as he made sure the saddle was secured. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I know how to keep my hands to myself. If you need to take anything from the stagecoach before we leave, it has to be light. Can’t put too much weight on my horse since he’ll already be carrying the both of us,” said Wriothesley.
Neuvillette frowned at the use of the pet name, but said nothing. He supposed he would have to get used to Wriothesley’s flirty nature by the looks of it. He made his way to the stagecoach, but once there, as he looked at what the bandits had left behind, it was evident that nothing much would be salvageable. Neuvillette grabbed some clothes that were in a better state than the rest and rejoined Wriothesley by the road.
“I suppose only this should do,” said Neuvillette as he handed the garments to the cowboy.
Wriothesley put them securely in one of the saddlebags before turning towards Neuvillette, crowding his space.
“Alright. Heads up,” said Wriothesley. Before Neuvillette could predict what he was about to do, a pair of big hands grabbed his narrow waist and almost effortlessly lifted him up on the back of the horse.
Neuvillette glared at his companion, who seemed highly pleased with himself, if the smug smile on his lips was any indication. “I could have gotten up myself!” protested Neuvillette with a furious blush on his cheeks, not pleased at having been lifted as if he was a helpless maiden. He knew how to mount and ride a horse at least!
Wriothesley seemed intent on pushing Neuvillette’s buttons as he chuckled mirthfully. “Sure you would have, love. Scoop back a little.”
Neuvillette obeyed reluctantly, moving to straddle the horse before scooting back. Wriothesley held onto the bridle and climbed in front of him. It was a tight fit, with barely any space between them. Neuvillette had never ridden a horse behind someone else before, and he didn’t quite know where he should put his hands.
“Hold on tight so you don’t fall off!” said Wriothesley over his shoulder as he kicked the sides of his horse, urging the stallion to trot down the road, beginning the journey towards Fort Worth.
Neuvillette had no choice but to do as Wriothesley instructed. He reluctantly pressed himself close against the cowboy’s back and held onto Wriothesley’s waist to keep his balance, his nose becoming filled with the pleasant scent of leather and bergamot.
As he watched the desolate scenery pass by, he hoped he wouldn’t come to regret this decision.
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They rode until dusk settled on the Frontier. Neuvillette had never ridden for hours on end on a horse, and by the time Wriothesley guided the stallion away from the road and over to an outcrop of big rocks surrounded by patches of grass and a tree offering some shade, Neuvillette felt more sore and tired than he ever was before. The unforgiving sun and heat had not helped with his exhaustion.
Wriothesley climbed down and offered his hand to Neuvillette. “This should be a good place to set up camp for the night,” said the cowboy.
Neuvillette eyed his hand distrustfully. He had not yet gotten over Wriothesley’s flirty comments. The cowboy had made a few more of them on the way, and Neuvillette had refused to rise to the bait, staying stubbornly silent throughout the rest of their ride. Wriothesley had not seemed to mind the silence, as he took on to whistling under his breath while he leisurely guided the stallion down the dirt road.
Wriothesley lifted an eyebrow, and Neuvillette sighed as he finally took the offered hand. The cowboy helped him down the horse, and the Englishman looked around them with skepticism.
“Really?” said Neuvillette doubtfully when his gaze returned to his companion.
Wriothesley chuckled as he led his horse towards the tree to which he hitched him. “You’re clearly not used to sleeping under the stars, are you? Trust me on this. This is the perfect spot, minus having access to running water. We won’t be seen directly from the road, and this outcrop of rocks will protect our fire from most of the wind,” explained the cowboy.
“If you say so,” said Neuvillette, a bit less skeptical now that he understood Wriothesley’s reasoning.
He stood there a bit awkwardly, not knowing what to do, while the cowboy rummaged through the saddlebags. A blanket was thrown Neuvillette’s way, which he caught at the last second.
“Go sit down. I’ll get a fire started, and then I can try sewing your wound shut if you want,” said Wriothesley casually.
Neuvillette threw him a surprised look. “You have experience with sewing wounds?”
Wriothesley grabbed a leather canteen and threw it at Neuvillette too before seizing a flint and steel and making his way around the outcrop of boulders. The Englishman followed him.
“A bit. I would have offered earlier, but I didn’t want to linger around in case our friends came back. Out here on your own, you have to take care of yourself. The scar won’t be neat, but I’m afraid it’s the best you’ll get,” said Wriothesley as he motioned for Neuvillette to sit down in the natural formation of stones, right next to a shallow hole containing the remains of charred branches. Wriothesley must not have been the only one thinking this was a good spot to make camp.
“Alright, then. You may,” said Neuvillette. He put the blanket down on the ground and plopped down on it. He sighed tiredly and watched as Wriothesley cleared the hole in the ground before leaving Neuvillette’s side to gather some material to burn.
The cowboy didn’t have to go far away, as there were many dry bushes around that he could use for a fire. Neuvillette was in the middle of taking a long drag of water from the canteen when Wriothesley came back, his arms full of broken branches.
He dropped them in the shallow hole and squatted in front of them, working on starting the fire with his flint and steel.
Neuvillette watched him work in silence, his eyes roaming over his handsome features as he focused on his task. He must have felt observed, as a pair of icy blue eyes met his and the Englishman hastily averted his gaze, his cheeks feeling warm despite himself.
Wriothesley said nothing, but when Neuvillette stole a quick glance, he saw a smug smile stretching his lips.
A few minutes later, the cowboy had successfully started the fire. Just in time too, as the temperature was quickly dropping with the sun hiding over the horizon. Wriothesley went back to the horse, and when he returned near the fire, he was carrying two more blankets, a bottle of booze and a small leather pouch.
Neuvillette startled when Wriothesley dropped next to him on the blanket, by the side of his wounded arm. He sat still as the cowboy carefully undid the bloodied scarf to reveal his wound. The contact of the air against it made the wound throb painfully, but Neuvillette ignored it in favor of watching Wriothesley at work.
The cowboy opened the pouch and took out a needle with some thread. He took the bottle of alcohol and opened it, pouring more of the liquid on Neuvillette’s wound, making him hiss in pain. The needle and thread followed the same treatment to sterilize them as much as possible, and once he was ready, Wriothesley brought the needle against Neuvillette’s skin.
He stilled and their gazes met. “This will hurt. If you need to bite down on something -”
“Just do it,” interrupted Neuvillette through gritted teeth. He mentally prepared himself for the pain that was to come.
Wriothesley didn’t need to be told twice. The first drag of the needle through his flesh was incredibly painful, but Neuvillette refused to let out a whimper of pain. He closed his eyes and forced himself to endure, his body tensing under the pain.
He tried not to focus on it, and he was thankful when the cowboy began speaking, maybe in an attempt to distract him from the painful sewing; “No offense to you, Neuvillette, but you don’t look like someone made for manual labor like working at a ranch. Why come all the way to the Frontier? A delicate beauty like you seems much more suited for posh city life.”
Neuvillette was left speechless by the cowboy’s bold words. His cheeks burned, and he would never admit that a small part of him enjoyed the compliment. The Englishman glared at his companion, which caused the latter to laugh mirthfully.
“You don’t take compliments easily, do you?” noted Wriothesley as he observed Neuvillette’s face with blatant curiosity and mirth.
“I am a man. Such compliments should be reserved to women,” protested Neuvillette in a weaker tone than he would have liked.
In England, at least among the upper class, it would be unthinkable for a man to court another man publicly, or even to compliment his appearance like Wriothesley was blatantly doing. Neuvillette was unused to this, and even more unused to how it made him feel.
He had long since known of his attraction towards men, and had kept it as his darkest secret, never to see the light of day. He would be disowned if his parents ever learned the truth. He got used to playing the role of the perfect gentleman, pretending to be interested in the fairer sex like he was expected to.
This, being complimented so by Wriothesley, was a novel experience, and Neuvillette didn’t quite know what to do with it.
The cowboy scoffed. “Says who? I see something pretty, I compliment it. But you haven’t answered my question. Why come here?” he asked again with a raised eyebrow.
Neuvillette was surprised that his companion seemed truly interested in knowing him, but since he didn’t see a reason to hide the truth from Wriothesley, he decided to answer him. “I am the third son of my family. My oldest brother will inherit the family’s business in England. My parents decided to send their two other sons here in the hopes that we can make a fortune in the cattle business. I… also have a fiancée picked up for me who I have yet to meet, waiting for me at the ranch.”
To be honest, Neuvillette dreaded his arrival at the ranch. Not for the prospect of doing manual labor and helping his brother, he could deal with this. But marrying a woman that he had never met, and who he knew he could never love…
But there was no escaping it, unless he wanted to bring shame upon himself and his family name.
Wriothesley had been observing him closely. He said softly; “You don’t seem pleased with the prospect.”
It must have shown on his face. Neuvillette sighed and winced at a particularly painful drag of the needle. “Whether I am or not is inconsequential. This is my duty.” He had no choice but to do it, no matter the cost to himself.
Wriothesley finished sewing Neuvillette’s wound, and the latter sighed shakily in relief. The cowboy smiled at him. “You did good, Neuvillette. I’m impressed.”
If he didn’t sound so sincere, Neuvillette would have taken it as a back-handed compliment. He supposed he couldn’t blame Wriothesley for thinking him fragile or weak, given how he rescued him earlier and his overall appearance.
He decided not to take it to heart. Instead, as Wriothesley stood up to fetch something else from the saddlebags, he asked out of curiosity; “What about you? What do you do exactly apart from rescuing captive Englishmen?”
His jab at himself made Wriothesley laugh. He came back to Neuvillette’s side, and handed him some bread and slices of salted, dried meat. Not exactly food Neuvillette would consider appetizing in normal circumstances, but he was famished. He dug into the food with a quiet word of gratitude.
Wriothesley watched him with amusement for a few seconds before answering his question. “I’m a bounty hunter. I hunt down wanted men and collect the rewards. There’s no shortage of them around these parts. The Frontier is still a mostly lawless place, as you’ve come to know yourself.”
“Really? It sounds very dangerous,” said Neuvillette, not bothering to hide the awe he felt at such a dangerous profession.
“It is, but it’s also freedom. I get to scour the entire country, see sights and experience things I never would have dreamt of when I was a kid. I also play my part in making this place a bit safer for everyone else. Nothing beats that in my opinion,” said Wriothesley in a soft tone, a hint of a deeper emotion underneath his words that Neuvillette couldn’t decipher.
A part of Neuvillette envied Wriothesley, envied his free spirit. How wonderful would it be to be able to be himself and to do what he wanted, to not have heavy expectations weighing on him.
Neuvillette wallowed in these thoughts as they ate in silence, with the sounds of the fire crackling and of various animals in the distance. When the Englishman threw glances at Wriothesley from time to time, he found the cowboy also looking deep in thought, a strange melancholic expression on his face.
Wriothesley finished eating before him, and Neuvillette watched him go to his horse to give him some water that he poured in a bowl. His soft whispers to the animal were lost to the wind as he caressed the stallion’s mane for a while, showing a gentle side to him that clashed with his gruff appearance.
When Wriothesley came back to his side, Neuvillette was done with his meal. He was still a bit hungry, but he wouldn’t ask for more when the cowboy had already done so much for him.
He stifled a yawn and fought to keep his eyes open. He was tired to the bone. The day’s events were catching up to him. Wriothesley noticed his exhaustion. He grabbed the two blankets he had brought earlier and handed them to Neuvillette.
“I usually travel light, so I don’t have too many blankets with me. We’ll have to sleep close and share them to keep warm. Hope Your Highness doesn’t mind,” teased the cowboy.
Again, Neuvillette couldn’t help the pink dusting that covered his cheeks at the teasing. He huffed and stood up to lay the blanket beneath him a bit closer to the fire. “You are insufferable. As long as you keep your hands to yourself, like you said you would, it is agreeable,” said Neuvillette.
In truth, he was a bit apprehensive about sleeping so close to Wriothesley. Not because he didn’t trust the cowboy’s words - against his better judgment, he did - but because it was his first time sharing sleeping arrangements with another man. Given his inclinations, he hoped it wouldn’t lead to an awkward situation on his part.
Wriothesley’s next words further deepened his embarrassment. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I only like to take what’s willingly offered to me. I wouldn’t complain if you did, though. It’s rare that I get such charming company to help keep me warm at night,” said the cowboy, his tone light and playful.
When their gazes met, Wriothesley was smirking at him, looking far too amused at his expense. Neuvillette didn’t dignify him with a response apart from a venomous glare in his direction. Wriothesley didn’t seem to mind the silent treatment, quite the contrary judging by the amusement shining in his eyes.
Wriothesley went away to grab more dried branches to rekindle their fire before they went to sleep. Neuvillette made it a point not to look at the cowboy further as he got rid of his waistcoat and his belt, as sleeping in those would be more than uncomfortable. It was bad enough that Neuvillette felt so dirty. His skin was caked with dirt, sweat and blood, but there was nothing he could do about it until they came across a river or a lake. Hopefully they would have more luck the next day.
He laid down on the blanket and pulled the two extra ones over him just as the cowboy came back in their makeshift camp, arms full of branches.
The Englishman watched Wriothesley from the corner of his eyes. How he put more branches into their fire, enough to last a good portion of the night, before also stripping himself of his waistcoat and belt, but not before taking his pistol out of its holster.
Wriothesley laid down next to Neuvillette on his back under the blankets and put the pistol on the ground at arms reach. He grabbed his hat and laid it over his face, covering his eyes.
“Night, Neuvillette,” said Wriothesley quietly, his tone soft.
“Good night, Wriothesley,” murmured Neuvillette just as quietly, his gaze lingering on his companion laying so close their thighs almost touched.
Neuvillette swallowed hard and turned on his side, facing away from Wriothesley, hoping that he would find sleep easier if he could not gaze at him. But despite his exhaustion, it would take Neuvillette a long time to fall asleep that night, as his mind kept replaying the events of the day, a pair of icy eyes haunting his every thought.