Chapter Text
Y’know, you’ve never been able to get a read on him.
You would hope he doesn’t hate you, but he for sure doesn’t like you. Every time you talk to him, it’s always short. Do you want me to bring you some stew? No. Here’s your cut. Where do you want me to put it? Over there. That gash looks pretty bad. Do you want me to get a bandage? It’s fine.
You wonder why he’s so cold. He’s not a huge talker like Dutch or Sean, but with how he talks to you, you would think he sees talking to you as part of his chores. He only talks to you when he needs help with something, when no one else is around to lend a hand. You have started to resent him these last couple of months because of it. What have you been doing wrong? Are you too slow? Do you try to talk too much? Is it because you-
“Hey.”
You snap your head up to see him standing over you. You squint as the sun shines behind him.
“… yes?”
“I need help skinning the animals. Would appreciate it if you helped.” With that, he turns away and walks to the other side of the camp where the carcasses are piled up.
You grimace. Skinning is one of the worst chores at the camp, just above shoveling the horse shit. The blood, the flies, the smell. You get so sore after sitting hunched over for hours peeling the skin off, soaking them and then tanning the skins from the previous day.
Nonetheless, you stand and walk over to Beau and squat next to the carcasses, “What do you want me to start with?”
“The rabbits.”
Your brow furrowed, “The rabbit skins? But you got mad at me last time because I kept cutting through their skin-”
“Take the fox then.”
You feel heat in your cheeks, “Thank you.” You grab a fox and begin to peel the flesh away.
You feel a sort of awkward tension build in the air. It always happens when you do chores with him. Before, you would try to talk to ease the tension, but he would immediately shut it down. Now you think what’s the point. It really does make you feel excluded, the way he singles you out. You often wonder what’s wrong with you, why he-
“Pay attention. You’re cutting through the hide.”
You blink dumbly at him and look down at the carcass. Sure enough, you’ve sliced off the hide’s shoulder by accident. “Goddamn it,” you hiss. You put it down in the grass and rub your hands, which have already begun to cramp up. Then, you see Arthur walk over to you.
“You kids doing alright?,” he looks at you and gives a smile. “How’s your helper, Beau?”
“Helper? That’s one way to put it,” he grumbled. “Honestly think I could get it done faster without her.”
“I probably would be better at it if you actually taught me,” you mumble under your breath.
“You mind repeating that?,” he jerks his head to you.
“I didn’t say nothing,” you raise your brows, not looking up from your work.
“You’re a smart girl, right? I shouldn’t have to hold your hand through skinning an animal.”
“Alright, alright,” Arthur holds his hands up. “We really don’t need to argue over this. Beau, just help the little lady so y’all can stop bickering.”
“I got other chores to do after this and it’s already 3 o’clock,” he leans back against the tree behind him. “Maybe another day.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Arthur looks up in disbelief and sighs. “If I chop the wood and shovel the horse shit for you, will you please help her?”
Beau and Arthur lock eyes for a moment, until Beau rolls his eyes, “Fine.”
“Thank you,” Arthur waves his hands. “Now stop fighting, y’all are more childish than Jack.” He walks back to Dutch’s tent.
After a moment, Beau lets out a deep sigh and reaches out his hand, “Hand me the fox.”
You hand it over and he turns away from you a bit, angling the fox so you can see where the knife lays. He begins to make smooth, shallow cuts under the skin. “The problem is you use your knife like a saw. You need to glide it or you’ll end up with an uneven cut. You’re also grabbing it too tight.”
After a few slices, he hands it back to you. You grab your knife and try to relax your hand. You try to make a smooth cut only to slice through the skin. You let out a groan, “I think I’m still doing it wrong.”
He looks up at you, then the fox and rolls his eyes again. He scoots over, wraps himself around you and grabs your hands. You feel your heart skip a beat; he dwarfs you in both height and width. His scruff grazes your cheek. He’s warm, the heat radiating across your back and shoulders. You also never really noticed how big and strong his hands are, calloused from the hard labor he does all day. He’s never really touched you before. He seems to be so gentle despite that, holding your hands like this.
“The problem now is you angle your knife wrong,” he moves your hand downward. “You need to keep your knife straight between the skin and the muscles. Otherwise you’re going to cut into either.” He guides your hand along the flesh, “Got it?”
“Yep,” you reply. He lets go and scoots back to his original spot. You now glide your knife across the carcass. You’re still making minute mistakes, but definitely better than before.
After a moment, you break the silence, “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” he murmurs.
After another hour or two, your work is done. The sun begins to set, shining golden light on the trees. A gentle breeze blows your hair to the side and you take a deep breath in. You never thought you would like this, living in the camp, even with Beau around. Maybe it’s not much to others, but you love the scenery Clemens Point has to offer, especially the lake. The best part is when you finish your chores, you like to sit on the shore and let the waves slowly lap at your feet. It’s all … liberating? Yeah, liberating.
“Feed up time!” Pearson bellows. You stand and walk towards the fire, leaving Beau behind. You do look back though, and accidentally meet his gaze. You quickly look away, pretending you didn’t notice.
You grab a metal bowl and look into the pot. It’s stew. Again. Yummy. You place yourself on a log in front of the fire, taking a bite here and there. Mary-Beth grabs a plate and sits right next to you.
She leans towards you a bit, “Is it any good?”
You take another bite, “Well, it doesn’t taste burnt today, so I would say it's quite delicious.” You both giggle.
“Mind if I sit?,” asks Tilly, approaching with a soup bowl in hand.
“You know you don’t have to ask, Tilly,” you look up at her.
“I know, I’m just trying to be polite,” she plops down on the side opposite Mary-Beth. She lowers her voice a bit, “They’re talking about the Braithwaites and the Grays again.”
You flick your eyes up at Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, Charles, Micah, John and Beau. Beau looks at you and makes eye contact again for a split second before you look back down at your food, “Y’know, I think it’s downright dangerous with them stirring the pot like this. I mean, what are we getting out of this?”
“What do you think? Money and power,” whispers Mary-Beth.
“We really can’t get that any other way?”
“Well,” Tilly sighs, “you know Dutch. Always looking for an opportunity.”
“Right…” You look back up at Beau, who's now looking back at the men. You can tell he’s checked out of the conversation. He’s been adamant from the start that we shouldn’t be backstabbing both families, not that that’s an unpopular opinion amongst the gang. In fact, the only ones that disagree are Dutch, Hosea and Micah. The Braithwaites and the Grays are too powerful. Once they catch a whiff of our true intentions, we’ll be smoked out. With Dutch at the helm however, we’re all forced to comply.
“What were you and Beau fighting about earlier?” Tilly’s voice snaps you to attention.
“O-oh, um…” You look down at your food. “Y’know how he is. Needed help with chores, but didn’t like how I helped. I’ve been telling him he just needs to take a moment to show me, but he would rather just do all the work on his own.”
“I always wonder why he treats you that way,” Tilly says. “It seems like he wants to go out of his way to rile you up.”
“Maybe he has a crush on her,” Mary-Beth giggles.
“Well then that’s a very schoolboy way to go about it,” Tilly takes another bite of stew. “You would think a bandit be able to express his feelings better than that.”
You’ve finished your food and decide to change into your nightgown. You grab the clothes and walk behind your tent for privacy. You unlace your boots and put them to the side, unbutton your shirt and put it on top of your boots, with only a thin chemise protecting your breasts from the chilly night air. You unbutton your skirt and begin to slide them down your legs when you hear a twig snap. You shoot your head up and scan the brushes where the noise came from. Your heart races for just a moment. A coyote?, you wonder. They don’t go after people usually, right? But if it’s not a coyote, then-
The bushes rustle again, only this time you can see a red shirt illuminated by the moonlight.
“Uncle!” You growl, “Stop peeping on me!”
He doesn’t answer, but you hear the rustle of the bushes get further away. What a pervert , you think, resuming the removal of your skirt. What does he do around here anyways?
Once you’re in your nightgown, you decide to wind down by the lake. However, once you see the beach you can see someone is already in your usual spot. Beau. You can see him writing in a journal, a lantern placed next to him to illuminate the pages. Huh, you didn’t think he knew how to write.
You tread lightly til you’re right behind him, “Taking after Arthur?”
He jumps and quickly shuts the book, “What do you want?”
“You’re in my spot.”
He turns and grimaces at you, “Your spot?”
“Yessir, my spot.”
“You have an entire beach here,” he gestures up and down the bank. “Why do you need this spot?”
“It’s got the best view.”
“Well, you can survive without it for one night.” He opens the journal and continues to write.
After a moment, you ask, “What are you writing about?”
He drops the book into his lap and sighs at the sky, “Can’t a man enjoy his evening in peace?”
“Not if I can’t enjoy mine,” you give a sly smirk.
He pauses, then shakes his head and shuts the book. “Fine. Enjoy your evening.” He grabs the lantern and walks 50 feet up the bank. He puts the lantern back down and sits himself down, scribbling once more.
You take your boots off and place a bedroll on the ground to protect your nightgown from the dirt. You look out towards the lake, bathed in moonlight. Far across the lake, you can see the twinkling lights of Blackwater. What a beautiful sight.
You can’t help but look over at Beau, his head still deep into his book. Maybe you were a little rude. You could deal with relaxing in another spot on the bank for one night. Then again, he probably would’ve forced you to relocate too if the roles were reversed.
You’re not sure how much time has passed, but you notice everyone at the camp has gone to sleep. Except you and Beau. You decide to stand, collect your bedroll and walk towards your tent. You lay down onto your cot, where you can see Beau still on the shore, deep in thought. What could he be writing about?
Your eyelids begin to grow heavy, until you drift off to sleep.