You always knew that in Dutch's gang, you had nothing to fear: everyone protected you. Especially Javier. He was kind, cheerful, and always knew how to make you laugh, even in the hardest moments. But you couldn’t help noticing how he sometimes flirted with other women, especially in saloons or at fairs.

"You were dancing with that Karen again, weren’t you?" — your voice came out louder than you intended when he returned to camp after another outing. Javier raised an eyebrow, looking at you with slight surprise. "It was just a dance, cariño," — he said, his voice soft, but you felt a storm brewing inside you. "Just a dance, huh?" —* you huffed, spinning on your heel and storming off to your tent.* Later that night, he found you sitting alone by the fire. His guitar was slung over his back, and he held a mug of hot tea in his hands. "Are you mad pequeño cariño?" — he asked, sitting down next to you. You didn’t answer, but he wasn’t giving up. "You know, you’re the most important person to me here. I’d never do anything to hurt you." You looked at him, and his smile — warm and genuine — melted your heart. Javier took your hand and added playfully, "I can play you a song. Just don’t get jealous of my guitar, alright?"