Chapter Text
The gang just fled from Valentine and is taking up business with Sheriff Gray in Rhodes. While in Rhodes, a few members of the gang go to the local saloon. The saloon is filled with some uppity folks, but they pay no mind to it, it's the same routine either way.
Arthur approaches the bar with Charles, chugging down a whiskey. "Damn Pinkertons. Chasin' us down everywhere we go." Arthur huffs. "Honestly, I'd rather flee this town, too. My first time walking into town and a man spit at me." Charles sighs deeply, taking a swig of his beer.
The saloon is loud, but there's a man oddly quiet, staring daggers into Charles and Arthur's backs while he nurses on his whiskey. Charles looks behind him, nearly catching the staring man in the act, who's wearing clothes that don't fit in with the rest of the crowd one bit: A sleek black hat with faint burn marks at the edges along with a couple of holes, a white shirt not fully buttoned with the sleeves rolled up, a red vest with sewn flowers, a black leather belt with a golden buckle, black cowboy boots with detailed flowers sewn into them, red painted on the bottoms, and a golden necklace, some of the light from the setting sun being caught in it.
The man doesn't break his stare once, taking a sip of his drink as Charles stares back at him. Charles looks away and lowers his voice when he speaks to Arthur. "There's a strange man staring at me. What should we do?" Arthur's annoyed expression softens since it's Charles asking, but his emotions are clear on his face as he looks back and sees the man put his feet up on a table as he stares. Arthur takes another shot of whiskey, wiping his mouth before he turns his body to approach the man.
He gets up and immediately heads for the door with impressive speed. "God dammit! Javier, follow him!" Arthur yells to Javier, who was too distracted by the ginger woman with plump... personalities in front of him, to notice the man rushing out the door. "Huh? Oh, diós mio!" He groans as he rushes out the saloon doors, jumping onto his horse and chasing after the man in black and red. The man's hair breaks out of it's hair tie and let's loose in the wind. Javier catches up to the man and tugs on the ends of his hair in an attempt to knock him off.
Javier only angers the man further and just as he puts his hand on his holster, a shot rings out. Arthur shot his hand, scaring his horse and has the long-haired man falling to the ground as his horse runs off. Arthur picks up the man by his arm and shoves him on his stomach, hog tying him before throwing him on the back of his horse.
"Let me the fuck down!!" He yells and tries to wiggle out of the ropes, nearly falling off the back of the damn horse. "Keep squirmin' and I'll shoot your head this time!" Arthur yells out as the group travels back to camp.
The man huffs. "He's got quite the attitude on him." Charles adds on, earning another piercing glare from the strange man. "You got that part right, amigo." He scoffs with a cocky smirk on his face.
The group finally gets back to camp. Arthur effortlessly throws the man over his shoulder, carrying him to a tree and tying him up. Dutch walks over. "Is he an O'Driscoll?" He questions. "We ain't sure yet. He was starin' at Charles and when I looked at him, he ran."
The long hair man glared at the pair. Dutch walks over to him, taking a drag of his cigar, blowing the smoke in his face. "He's a girly looking one." That comment made the quiet man spit at Dutch. "Oh, you son of a-" Arthur puts his hand on his shoulder. "Calm down, I'll interrogate 'em." Arthur grabs him by the hair, making the lomg-haired fellow bite his lip, stifling a pained grunt. "What is your name, boy?" He huffs. He stays silent. Arthur punches him across the face before repeating the question, "What is your name, boy." It became more of a demand than a question.
"Go fuck yourself, Morgan." Arthur's expression becomes perplexed. The boy clearly knows who he is. "This is your last chance. Give me your name." His voice drops to a threatening whisper. "Fine." He huffs, breathing heavy. "My first name is Yusquat, last name Whenyupe." He laughs before Arthur punches him again, making him spit up blood.
Charles intervenes. "Stop it. He isn't worth it." Charles glares at the bloodied man before leaning down on his level. "Instead, he can starve until he wants to speak." The younger man's stomach growls at the mention of food and his face flushes slightly. The men leave him there on the tree before heading to do tasks at the camp.
The sun finally sets and the smell of Pearson's soup flows through the windy air. The younger man groans, lowering his head as Javier comes towards him with a fat grin on his face. He dramatically slurps the soup and hums. "Mmm, delicious! Wish you had some, huh, hombrecito?" The man looks up and glares at him, all his intimidating nature immediately becoming lost the minute his stomach growls.
He face flushes and he turns his gaze to the side before Javier roughly grabs his jaw, his cheeks squishing together. "Face me when I'm talking to you." His playful, teasing tone drops to a far more threatening one. His glare returns but cannot be taken seriously when his cheeks are all squished together. "Wanna talk now?" His voice lowers. "Can I eat?" He mumbles. "Wow, he speaks!" He yells sarcastically, looking at the nearby camp members.
"Every time you speak, I'll let you have a bite, huh?" The man considers it before hesitantly nodding. "What's your name?" He questions. The man hesitates once again. "Speak or no la cena." He waits before sighing. Javier begins to walk off. "Leroy." Javier turns back. "Leroy what?" He squints. "Leroy Blackstone." He grumbles. "Ah, good perrito." He says before shoving a spoon full of soup in Leroy's mouth. Despite the offended look, he still licks the sauce around his mouth.
"Are you an O'Driscoll, or a Lemoyne Raider?" Javier questions further. "Fuck no!" Leroy scoffs in disgust. "I'm not in a gang." He glares, offended he'd even suggest he was rolling around with a bunch of confederate pansies. "Good boy." He smirks before feeding him another spoonful of soup.
"One more, and I'll give you the rest of the soup." Leroy nods quickly. "Why were you staring at us in that bar?" Leroy pauses, debating on whether he wants to answer. "I... I can't." He mumbles. "Oh, but you can, hombrecito. Tell me or no more food." Leroy quickly responds. Damn fatass. "... I was trying to make some quick money. Bounty hunting." Arthur's ear perks up at that. "Bounty hunter? Good lord, I let a bounty hunter into our camp." He pinches the bridge of his nose.
"Does this mean I can get my gelding tongs?" Bill was basically bouncing out of his chair at the thought. Leroy raises an eyebrow. Bill already has them heated up before Arthur can even say yes or no. Bill snaps the tongs together while walking towards Leroy. "HELL no!" Leroy squirms and kicks despite being tied to a tree. "Just calm down, will you?" Dutch interjects.
A sigh of relief comes out of Leroy. "I won't go telling anyone about y'alls camp, I swear on my life." Arthur scoffs, walking towards him. "Well, that won't mean much when we kill you." A shiver runs down Leroy's spine, but he doesn't let Arthur scare him. "What can I do to prove that I'm not gonna snitch?" Arthur considers it for a moment. "Fine then. You're gonna do some chores, boy."
He cuts Leroy loose, immediately grabbing him roughly by the back of his neck and dragging him to his tent. "Let off, will you?!" He pushes away once they get to his tent. "Hush, will you? I was kind enough to not put a bullet through your head." He huffs before throwing a thin blanket on the ground. "Sleep." Leroy stares with disgust at the thin blanket on the floor before silently sitting on it. He takes off his shoes, vest, and other accessories before lying down. Not like he can just wear his undergarments. He sighs deeply as he attempts to go to bed, shivering every so often from the cold before finally falling into a rough sleep.