dollarstrilogyevent

[dollarstrilogyevent]

(a very late) Dollars Trilogy Fandom Event entry

Day 7 - Parting + Poncho

i lost motivation and energy in the middle of drawing this one but yeah here is my very late entry :')

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Dollars Trilogy Fandom Event Day 7: sunsets, justice, tomorrow

My final contribution to this wonderful event is a triple drabble about how Indio got his cellmate the carpenter to tell him about the safe/cabinet at the bank of El Paso.

Here it is on AO3. Enjoy!

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7-Sunset

The thing about sunsets is they're always shifting, followed by a night and then a sunrise. They're not eternal, even on nights when they feel like it.

Every night, the bloody-colored dying of the light has a feeling of finality, and Blondie reminds himself he means to end it, should've cut loose earlier; thinks of disappearing into the night. But he's tired and cold by the time the stars are out, hates to leave their blankets. And every golden morning he wakes up with Tuco's warmth a comforting presence at his back and finds he's glad to not be alone.

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As day 7 draws to a close I want to say an absolutely behemoth thank you to everyone who has gotten involved!

Whether you took part in a warm up, shared some of the entries, or did a few yourself…. You’re all amazing and you’ve made this event an absolute joy to run. I love you.

This blog will remain open and if I’ve missed anything I’ll get it shared ASAP. Please keep filling the prompts if you haven’t already, we aren’t closing up shop just because it’s been a week!

I’d like to use this blog for something else down the line, maybe a more specific event, but that is to be confirmed at a later date.

But again - THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! There is so much talent and love here.

[dollarstrilogyevent]

Day 6-bounty/money/night

(related: that beloved 'Tuco is the only one we know who considers bathing a priority' post)

Collecting a bounty gave good money. Tuco was happy, humming and splashing in the bathtub on the other side of their shared room. They were having a night to rest, enjoy what their money could buy—which wasn’t all that much, out here, still laying low in between jobs. Still, it was good to stretch out on a bed, even if he had to hear Tuco splashing himself.

Finally Tuco got up with a sigh—the water was probably getting cold, Blondie thought.

“Alright, your turn.”

Blondie gave the secondhand water an unenthused look (also got a clear view of Tuco’s dripping, glistening body as he reached for a towel; then looked away).

He could probably make them change out the water, though that seemed like more trouble than it was worth. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to the idea of conserving bath water (he remembered years of pre-Sunday-morning scrubs as a child, splashing off in the family’s tub behind a curtain) but he hadn’t had to share his water with anyone in years and he wasn’t keen to go back to it, particularly not if he was starting with Tuco.

“Come on, get up,” said Tuco, now mostly dry and with the towel draped carelessly around his shoulders, giving Blondie a shooing motion. “I know you smell bad, I’ve been sharing a blanket with you, amigo.”

Blondie grunted and flopped an arm over his eyes. “I’ll wash up later.”

“Water’s still warm now. Come on, smelly man, I know you won’t do it if I don’t make you.”

“I will,” said Blondie, trying and failing to not sound like a grumpy child.

He felt hands on him and reflexively straightened up, batting them away. Tuco caught him by the arms and hauled him up, cackling. They wrestled together for a moment, Tuco bodily shoving Blondie towards the tub.

“Take off your clothes off or I’ll dunk you in like that!”

Blondie sputtered, tried to wriggle out of Tuco’s bare brawny arms, and felt Tuco lift him up. “Put me down! Alright! Alright.”

Tuco released him and watched expectantly.

Blondie turned him away. “Get dressed!”

He undressed and sank into the tub quickly, while Tuco was getting dressed again. The water felt good once he was in it.

Despite the blow to his dignity, he didn’t feel as upset as he’d have expected himself to. He hadn’t really tried to fight Tuco—he always could’ve threatened him with his gun, but that seemed like overkill. It was good that Tuco trusted him enough to mess around with him like that, and he hated to kill the playfulness of the interaction, even at the expense of letting Tuco push him around a little. He wasn’t sure if that was wise, but at the moment, he was getting clean and Tuco was stretched out across their bed, neither of them had their guns handy, and it seemed almost domestic. He wasn’t sure if this felt strangely safe or terrifyingly dangerous. Maybe both, somehow.

[dollarstrilogyevent]

Dollars Trilogy Fandom Event - February 4th

Day 7 - parting | sunsets | justice | tomorrow | poncho

And it's already the last day! Making one drawing per day have been a challenge to me, but it was really fun! It was an amazing event and i absolutely loved what everyone did for each day. This fandom has something really special, and i love it <3

Thank you @khazadspoon for organizing this event! :3

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Habeas Corpus

A snippet of a Lawyer AU for day 7 of @dollarstrilogyevent - justice.

Blondie heard the phone in the outer office ring and Maria's muffled voice say “Sentenza & Biondo, how can we help you?” It was quiet for a while, and then the phone on his own desk started to ring. He sighed and picked it up. 

Before he could get a word out, a voice on the other end said, in a heavy Mexican accent, “Are you Sentenza or Biondo?”

“Biondo.”

“Can you put Sentenza on? I heard he's better. No offense.”

“He's, uh… not with us anymore.”

“Oh. Sorry.” 

“'S alright.” Blondie took a moment to wash down a propranolol with his watery coffee. “You want a consultation?”

“Nah, skip it. I'm at the police station right now. They're gonna arrest me for murder. But I didn't do it!”

“Sure,” Blondie muttered. He reached for a pen and notepad. “Name?”

“Tuco Benedicto Pacífico Juan María Ramirez."

“Right.” He scribbled down the first and last names and shrugged on his olive-green blazer, which he had forgotten to have dry-cleaned for the fourth week in a row. “Don't say anything. I'll be right there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were only about twenty officers in the Betterville Police Department, and Blondie knew all of them. The one who met him at reception was named Wallace. He was the kind of cop who made the cameras in the interrogation rooms necessary. “You here for the Rat?” he asked.

“If the Rat's name is Ramirez, then yeah. Who's prosecuting?” 

“Mortimer.”

“Christ. You guys are taking this seriously.” 

“Murder's a serious crime.” Wallace led Blondie back to one of the little interview rooms and opened the door for him. “Your lawyer's here,” he said.

Tuco sat up from where he was slouched in a corner of the room. He was a shorter man dressed in a brown jacket, chinos, and flashy white pirarucu boots. He had gold rings on his fingers, a gold tooth, and a gold crucifix on a chain around his neck. “Hey,” he said to Wallace, “you got an ETA on that cheeseburger? I'm starving in here, man.”

“It's on its way.” Wallace motioned Blondie towards the table in the middle of the room. “Don't take too long, we want him booked tonight.”

“Yeah, alright.” Blondie sat down at the table and waited for Wallace to leave the room before turning to his new client. He opened his brown leather briefcase and pulled out a sheaf of papers and a pen. “Fee agreement,” he said. “Take a look, say if you want me to explain anything.”

Tuco nodded, took the papers, and signed the bottom one without reading a single word. “I don't know if you had a chance to look into my record,” he said. 

Blondie nodded. “It's pretty bad. You're not getting bail with those priors. Or a plea deal.” He put the fee agreement back in the briefcase and took out his notepad. “And Mortimer’s prosecuting. Likes to play hard ball and he's the best trial attorney in the state.”

“You fill me with confidence.” 

“Well, Sentenza was the best. I don’t like talkin’ as much as he did. But I'm smarter than he was. That's why I'm still here.”

Tuco drummed his fingers on the table. Despite the fact that he'd certainly been through the system before, he looked nervous. “I really didn't do it, you know.”

“Sure,” Blondie said. “But assuming you did—” 

Tuco slammed his hand on the table with a force that almost made Blondie jump. “I’m innocent this time,” he insisted, raising his voice. “And that's the truth! If you don't believe me how the hell is anybody else supposed to, huh?!”

Blondie raised his eyebrows. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Alright then,” he said. “Convince me first.”

Tuco growled. “Son of a whore… You're lucky the Rojos recommended you, otherwise I'd take my chances with the public defender.”

Ah. The Rojo cartel were Sentenza & Biondo's best customers. “This have anything to do with them?”

Tuco avoided his gaze. “Well, maybe. A little. I may or may not have been doing a favor for Ramon at the time.”

Blondie sighed, almost in relief. “If your interests end up going against theirs, ethics-wise I'd have to drop the representation. Best to play it safe. Hope you get a good public defender.” He started to put his notepad back in his briefcase.

“Shit! Wait!” Tuco reached across the table and grabbed Blondie by the wrist. His grip was surprisingly warm and firm. 

“Let go of me,” Blondie growled.

“No, you just listen to me for a minute,” Tuco said. “Are you fucking kidding me, man?! I called you because you're supposed to be the scummiest lawyer around!”

“Sure, but I don't think you're worth pissing off the Rojos.”

Tuco seemed to hesitate for a moment. “...Alright, well, I can make myself worth it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just shut up and listen.” Tuco's wide brown eyes had Blondie pinned to the spot. “The dead guy, Bill Carson. Ramon wanted him roughed up a little and I owed him a favor. So I followed him to the alley behind that strip club downtown, Mirage, I think. But when I found him, somebody else had already shot him. He was still alive, just barely. He gave me something.”

Blondie just glared at him silently.

“A key to a safety deposit box,” Tuco whispered. “With two million dollars inside. Clean cash. I managed to hide the key somewhere safe before they brought me in. I'll give you a cut of the money if you get me off.”

“Phrasing.”

“Oh fuck you.”

“What's the cut?”

“Twenty-five percent.”

“Fifty.”

“Fuck your mother too. Fine.” Tuco let go of his wrist finally and leaned backwards, scowling. “Well? Are you gonna be my lawyer or not?”

Blondie thought about it. Not for too long. A million dollars was a nice amount of money. And the firm had been in the red ever since Sentenza kicked the bucket. “Sure,” he said, and put the notepad back on the table. “For a million dollars plus my fee, I'll get you off all day long.”

[dollarstrilogyevent]

rode past you on the road again today

my entry for the dollars fandom event day 7: parting

manco/mortimer. 880 words. a moment post-canon. live now on ao3!

[dollarstrilogyevent]

dollars event day 7. prompt: justice (content warning: implied law enforcement violence) ---

The first thing Blondie sees when he rides into town is that they’re building a real gallows.  That changes his plans.

He keeps on slow, trying to keep up a facade of detached innocence as he discreetly surveys his surroundings.  Past a wide, squat jail with an alley round the side. The sheriff saunters out on the porch.  He's a big brutal kind of a man, yellow-headed.  Behind him like lean hungry dogs slink two mean-looking deputies with glinting eyes and bruises on their knuckles.  Like a reflection of someone knew once. “Howdy, stranger,” says the sheriff over-amiably. Blondie stops the horse.  “Howdy.” “Coming along right nicely, ain’t it?” Takes him a second to realize what that’s about; he follows the man’s gaze to the scaffold.  “Mm.  Looks like it.” “Not long now till it’s ready.”  That’s self-evident. “She’s a beaut,” says one of the deputies. Not a word Blondie would ever use for it, but all he says, with a touch of irony just for him, is: “Sure.”  He tips his hat, and before any of them can make any further attempt at conversation, he starts back on.  There’s work to be done.

~•~

Tuco’s cooling his heels in a cold, stinking jail cell trying to figure on a way out when he hears the first inklings of a commotion.  It’s a distant shout at first, but sure as the sun rises it grows steadily, becomes a clamor of voices out there in the night, some commanding, some frantic.  “Aw, hell,” mutters one of the deputies, “I’d better see what that’s about.”  He and the other converse mutedly, and then he leaves.  The remaining man eyes the jail cell nastily and then settles back down at the desk.

Not long after comes the low, muffled boom of a far-off explosion, prompting the other deputy up sharply from the desk.  Tuco wonders if the war’s found this place so soon.  

The clamor multiplies quickly; it sounds like half the town.  New light comes faintly through the high, barred window, wavering and orange.  The deputy paces and curses and paces and looks at the window and paces some more.  Tuco feigns sleep.  He swears he can feel the man’s eyes on him. “Shit,” the man says, and leaves.

A beat.  Two.  Three.  Tuco waits till he’s certain, then rises quickly with a low grunt of pain.  This is his break.  He scans the desk, picks out the keyring, then scans his cell for something to try and grab at it with.

A face appears in the window and startles him backwards.  A familiar face, when he looks, and stunned, he opens his mouth. Blondie holds a finger to his lips.  Tuco mouths at him wordlessly, trying to make some kind of sense of what he’s seeing, but he doesn’t speak.  Maybe he’s dreaming.  Or, hell, maybe that two-faced sonofabitch has just come to gloat one last time.  Yeah, that sounds right. Then Blondie’s wedging a kind of a metal hook round the bars of the window, and just before he drops back down, he winks.  Alright.  So it is a dream.

There’s a clatter of hooves, of wheels, a thunderous groan of straining rock and metal.  A crash, and open air.

~•~

The cell wall collapses into the alley exactly as he’d planned, the horses clattering onwards still trying to drag the thing behind their hitched cart; hurriedly he frees the chain attaching the hook and lets them go off into the street. Tuco stumbles out into the alley, his eyes wide.  He moves stiffly.  Blondie thinks of the deputies’ bruised knuckles and bites down hard on his cigar.  There’s no time for getting mad now.  He’s got a second horse waiting and he jerks his head for Tuco to mount, half-wondering if he’ll have to pull him up in his own saddle.  But with a wince, Tuco manages it. They ride.  Rounding a corner, they catch a glimpse of the buildings he’d set ablaze, crowds watching and crying out, the fire squadron trying to douse the inferno.  They plunge onwards into the dark, and no one sees them leave and no one follows.

Tuco, mercifully, waits until they’re well out of town before he starts yelling.  Less mercifully, they’ve dropped to a pace slow enough he can hear it in full. “Blondie, what the hell are you doing here?” “Oh, just saving your neck.  Again.” “Saving my neck.  Yeah, after what you did–” he stops.  “What the hell?” he says again. Blondie doesn’t answer.  Not much of a question anyway. “Why–how come you were in the right place at just the right time?” “Just lucky, I guess,” he says, and deigns not to mention newspapers and wanted posters skimmed in every town, ear pressed to the rumor mill.  It’s still not untrue. Tuco huffs.  After a minute he says, without malice, “You really are a two-faced sonofabitch.” Maybe so. It strikes him, then, the realization: Tuco hasn’t yet broken off to go their separate ways.

They make camp in a low scrubby wood and sit round a low fire with the night huddled very dense and very black around them and they look at each other sometimes across the flames or just stare into the fire.  Blondie’s doing a lot of the latter, biting down too hard on his cigar, trying not to fidget.  He thinks Tuco’s eyes are on him.  He hasn’t checked in a while and he hasn’t got the nerve now.  Beneath the crack of wood he hears the occasional shuffle of movement, adjusting and readjusting.  Antsy.

The line in the territory between justice and murder is thin. They both know. Wanted dead or alive is dead sooner or later, and the lawmen don’t take their time. The old rope-cutting con had relied on that: any bastard trying to make a buck could be judge, jury, and executioner, and if not him then someone else the next morning if he drug his bounty in alive like Blondie had. In and out of town in a flash. Judge, jury, and executioner.  Blondie’s killed half a dozen men for Tuco now and he’s not sorry for a single one.  

“What are you thinking about?” Tuco says at length. He wants to go back and kill those three sons of bitches.  Which is plain foolish because he can’t. “Nothing worthwhile,” he says, which is true, and Tuco scoffs but lets it go. They lapse into silence.  The night presses thicker and thicker at their backs.

“I’ve never been busted out of jail before.” That does make him look up.  Of all Tuco’s bullshit stories there’s a scant few he figures might be true; one was of a judge’s wife who’d been so enamored with him that she’d broke him out of his cell in the night.  He had mostly believed that because it sounded believable, because Tuco’s dodged death more than any man ought and he can charm his way out of just about anything.  Blondie’s loathe to admit it but it’s sure worked on him. He opens his mouth before he can think better and then stops, wonders if asking would just salt the wound. “What,” Tuco says tiredly. His eyes narrow, cautious.  “You said something once about a judge’s wife...” He barks out a laugh, harsh and sudden.  “And you believed that?” Blondie looks down.  Maybe it’s the fire but his face burns. “You of all people oughta know,” Tuco mumbles after a minute.  His voice is almost gentle. “Yeah.”  He doesn’t try to explain himself.  No point.  After a long minute he says, very quiet and half-strangled and for no good reason, “I don’t like lawmen much.” He can feel eyes on him, piercing, for a long beat. “You used to be a bounty hunter.” Now it’s him who laughs, almost sheepish.  “And you believed that, huh?” “Weren’t you?” He shrugs.  “A little.  Here and there.”  He sucks in a breath, lets it out in a slow sigh.  “Heart wasn’t in it.” Judge, jury, and executioner.  Sometimes he wishes it bothered him more.

A long minute passes.  Across the fire, Tuco stands, and Blondie stiffens.  He’s not sure what he expects.  Maybe for him to saddle and mount and ride off into the night.  Maybe just for him to bunk down for the night.  Not for him to walk round the fire and stop in front of him, wavering in the orange gloom.  Blondie stares at his boots. “Blondie?” He looks up at last, one of the few times he’s ever been able to do that given their heights.  The look on Tuco’s face is raw and indecipherable.  It seems like a question but Blondie doesn’t know what he’s trying to ask.  Then he toes cautiously at the dirt by his side, and Blondie nods slowly, shuffles over to let him sit.

A long time passes before he starts to lean.  Slow as the moon scraping cross the night sky; it feels half an eternity before their shoulders first touch. Blondie lets him.  Doesn’t move with it, stays firm against the pressure growing against his side.  At long, long length, he slips an arm around Tuco and leaves it there.

[dollarstrilogyevent]

Dollars Trilogy Fandom Event Day 6: secrets, night

This little thing is a missing scene set after Tuco and Blondie find Angel Eyes' "see you soon, idiots" note. Figured they might as well stay in that town for the night, in that hotel maybe. Two partners in a hotel room together, whatever will they do...

This fic catches them right after they do what they do. Here it is on AO3. Enjoy!

[dollarstrilogyevent]

Alright here's my piece for the last day ! Sad that this is over but everyone made really wonderful things and I'm glad I could see them all ! As always I tried to use all the prompts and the bonus.

Justice is done. El Indio is finally dead.

The sun is setting, far away in the horizon. Manco feels a little chill run down his spine. He tightens his poncho around himself to get warmer.

On the other side of town, Mortimer watches the stagecoach become gradually smaller as Manco rides away.

Away from this town, away from their adventure together. Away from him...

Well, some people are just meant to remain alone, even if it means having a partner from time to time and leaving them afterwards. Mortimer was glad he met the boy. He had helped him fulfill his life's last goal : take revenge on the man responsible for his sister's death.

Without realizing it, Manco had done something else for the Colonel. He had become his only true friend, the last person he could call a loved one.

Kathryn was gone, Douglas hadn't heard of his younger brother in at least 8 or 9 years and now Manco was leaving. The Colonel was once again all by himself.

Now justice is done. There's nothing more to do for him. He’s fifty, far too old in a world only meant for young people. And yet, he looks forward to the next day. Deep down, he knew tomorrow held marvels he had yet to see.

He had taken his decision. He would let the boy be for some time, but he would see him again.

"Maybe next time."

He would stick to his word. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in a month, but he would find the boy again. He would be the one to remove that warm poncho from the younger man's body and hold him as they sit together, watching the sunset on the porch of their shared home.

They would be happy because they'd know their parting would give this moment much more meaning.

After all, a partnership doesn’t always have to be about business.

[dollarstrilogyevent]

Dollars Trilogy Fandom Event - February 3rd February

Day 6 - bounty | secrets | money | night

[dollarstrilogyevent]

Dollars Trilogy Fandom Event entry

Day 6 - Bounty

Just a sketch I don't have enough energy to finish this...sorry gang 😔

[dollarstrilogyevent]

Tuco: Oh Blondie! You said to me if you saw me again it would be too soon! Well fate has brought us back much sooner than you thought, Amiga! Blondie: Tuco you've been following me for 3 DAYS!!! Tuco: :3

---------

I was very inspired by @probably-impossible lovely genderbend art and had to draw them, also used this as a chance for the Dollars event as well! Dollars Trilogy Fandom Event Day 4: Friendship

[dollarstrilogyevent]

Alright, here's for Day 6 ! I once again tried to use all the prompts. Enjoy !

"And here's the last five for you..."

Tuco hastily tucked away his cut of the money Blondie had just given him. Thankfully, their partnership was going really well. Few had been the partners he had kept by his side for so long.

And even though the blond was a bastard, Tuco kind of appreciated him and liked to think the other man did like him a little too.

But now all he could think about was the money. His bounty was now of 2500 $. Which obviously made quite a lot of money for each of them. Tuco briefly wondered what he would do with his cut of the money before he decided to ask his partner a question.

"Say Blondie, what are you gonna do with your cut ?"

The other did not answer, just kept on silently smoking, watching the flames dance in the night's inky darkness. He thought if he feigned not hearing, Tuco would eventually let it go. That just didn’t sit right with Tuco, when he asked, he liked to be answered.

He lightly shook the taller who then muttered something through his teeth.

"It's a secret..."

"A secret ?! You shouldn’t have said that Blondie !! Now I just have to know !"

Tuco started laughing at the idea of Blondie having secrets. Blondie blushed in embarrassment while lowering his hat on his eyes. He looked away from Tuco who just kept on laughing.

The Mexican bandit started picking on him for the rest of the evening in order to discover his secret.

The moon was high in the nightsky when Blondie finally grumbled in annoyance. Tuco relished in the upset look the other man had on his face.

"Fine, if you wanna know so bad, I wanna buy a new scarf. To protect my face from the sand, okay..."

Tuco erupted into more laughter, as Blondie's face got even more red.

He slapped Tuco's shoulder.

"Stop laughing, you madman !"

"No, no this is too good ! You hand me to the sheriff, get my bounty, shoot me free and split the money with me and the only thing you wanna buy with it is a scarf ?!!! Ha ha ha !!"

"I shouldn’t have said anything..."

"This is actually so adorable !!"

Blondie's face which had cooled down furiously blushed once more.

"Are you out of your mind ?!"

"I mean it ! I never took you for the type of man that cares about his clothes so much, what with you acting as if you were above everything other people do."

That actually stung Blondie's ego. He crossed his arms in a childish way and firmly looked to the side when replying.

"When a man's got looks, he's got to wear clothes that will compliment them, Tuco. But I can't really expect you to understand that, can I Tuco ?"

"Hey, are you calling me ugly, you little bastard ?!"

Blondie let his shit eating grin answer for him. He'd rather die than admit it, but he loved acting cocky just to get Tuco all worked up and angry. It made him feel like he had won some sort of argument with the wild bandido.

"Ha, you’re lucky your cute face will let you get away with anything, you pig !"

Blondie chuckled at that. He understood the insult came out more good natured than Tuco had intended it to be. It was a ceasefire.

They spent the rest of the night sharing a bottle of whiskey and peacefully chatting, Tuco obviously making most of the conversation.

When they got in teir respective bedrolls, Tuco suddenly pointed out something.

"I think it's the first time I've heard you talk this much, Blondie. It’s nice ! If you keep it up I won’t risk running out of stories to tell !"

"You could always tell me about your secrets..." Blondie said in a sleepy voice, his eyes already fluttering closed.

"Yeah, yeah, keep dreaming pretty boy !"

Blondie smiled before finally falling into a deep slumber.

The next morning, he woke up much later than usually because of the alcohol. The first thing he saw was a silky red scarf in his hands. Then Tuco making coffee.

"Tuco ! What-"

"Stole this for you in town. I took advantage of the fact you were sleeping to go in town. This might have raised my bounty a little."

"Good. More money for us."

"Mhm."

"Thanks, by the way. I really appreciate it..."

Tuco got up and silently made his way to Blondie. He then took the younger man’s chin in his fingers and lifted his face so he could look him in the eyes. Tuco was awfully close to his face by now.

"Red will help you hide the color of your face, we wouldn’t want people seeing you all flustered right ?"

"R-right..." Blondie suddenly found it hard to swallow, looking into those deep brown eyes.

"You know what ? One of my secrets is that, actually, I think you look real cute when you’re embarassed and all shy !"

Tuco got closer, Blondie closed his eyes, not sure what he was expecting. But then Tuco whispered in his ear.

"Maybe don't wear it in this town. As dumb as the sheriff looked, he might just understand we're associated if he sees you with it."

Blondie, slightly disappointed but not sure why, chuckled.

"Alright then..."

[dollarstrilogyevent]

from right here, the view goes on forever

my entry for the dollars trilogy event day 6: secrets and night

blondie/tuco. 457 words. my personal deeply held believe that blondie snores. read it now on ao3!

[dollarstrilogyevent]

dollars event day 6. prompt: money ---

“What would you spend all that money on?” Tuco has asked him once, slumped languidly back against the wooden siding of the wagon.  He’d been half asleep; he must’ve been, because otherwise they didn’t talk about the gold.  Too many assumptions there that neither of them wanted to make. “I don’t think it’s wise to spend money you haven’t got,” Blondie had replied, a pit in his stomach, and Tuco had made a sullen kind of a noise and put his hat down over his eyes and that was the end of it.

Well, now he’s got the money and he still hasn’t got an answer to that question.

A hundred thousand dollars.  It’s an almost obscene amount of money.  He's never been one for buying much more than the bare necessities; Tuco had always ragged him for never spending the money they made pulling the rope trick.  There hadn't been anything he wanted that badly, and there's certainly not anything he wants now that costs that much.  He doesn't even know what people put that kind of money into.  Land, probably, but land’s got to be managed, tended, looked after, and consequently stuck close to, and he has no desire to do that.  Might be useful to have a place to come back to, but his hideouts in the past have all been temporary–caves and old shacks and abandoned farmhouses–and it's suited him just fine.  Even a permanent hideout has to have somebody to look after, which means hiring somebody, and he's got no desire to do that either.  So he does what he always does: he keeps moving.  He’ll figure out what to do with the money on the road.

In one town he tries to gamble some of it but despite his well-practiced poker face, he's not much of a card player.  Too cautious.  He wins a little and then gets impulsive and goes all in on a bad bluff and loses it.  He isn't even angry.

In another he spends a night in a too-fancy hotel getting drunk on champagne behind his locked door before he discovers he hates champagne and remembers he hates being drunk.  Spends another half a day nursing the worst hangover of his life, spends the second half lying around doing nothing but feeling sorry for himself and consequently bored out of his skull, sleeps horribly on the overplush bed, and checks out at the crack of dawn the next morning, thoroughly disgusted with himself and convinced the life of the idle rich isn’t for him.

He leaves a considerable chunk of it in a sack outside a San Antonio mission.  He considers a note but doesn't know what to say.  Considers signing somebody else’s name, but that won’t go over and he knows it.  So he just leaves it in the night and rides off without so much as getting off the horse, and if he sees a half-familiar figure in the window watching him go, he decides not to make anything of it.

Each inkling of civilization he passes through (and at this point he skirts it) he hides all of it he doesn't need someplace outside of town, but then he has to go pick it up again and that gets old fast.  It's heavy.  It weighs him down.  It puts a target on his back, has him sleeping with his hand on his gun more even than he used to, has him waking up at every little sound, has him watching every lone stranger on the range with eagle’s eyes and his jaw set too firm.  One night setting up camp he gets so sore at the sight of those money bags it makes him almost sick. He buries all but a couple thousand in a dozen different places all across the desert and accidentally-on-purpose halfway forgets all of them.  He hurls his shovel off the top of a ridge and listens to the distant clatter it makes in the depth of the canyon and he only sort of feels better.

He tries bounty hunting for a while, legitimate, but in truth he was never as much as a bounty hunter as he let Tuco think.  His heart wasn't in it then and even less now. He scans newspapers and wanted posters and tries not to feel twisted-up inside when he doesn't see what he wants.  He spends hours looking over maps.  Thinks of going to Flagstaff where the high mountains are coated in snow, thinks about going to California to see the ocean.  It does sound nice.  Get away from all this, from the heat, from the dust, from the memories.  Somewhere nobody’s ever seen his face before.  Something stops him, and it's nothing to do with money.

There's only one worthwhile thing he spends any money on, and it's a neat little pair of binoculars that he saw in a shop and thought it might be nice to see from a distance who and what was coming and going. One morning he sees smoke on the horizon, back the way he had come from, and peering through the glass he spies a figure, small and blurry and familiar. And for the first time since Sad Hill, Blondie smiles.