Author: Mosh Note: You may not archive, re-post, or alter any of my stories without my permission. Please contact me first. Thanks! |
"Hey, herder, I got better than beans. Tell you what, we could rodeo right here, given the weather. Do circuits on the mare. I mean, it's been fine all day - luck might hold out." "Hold out over them black clouds over there, you mean?" "We got the horses, we got the gun to startle them, we got the spirit... you could commentate." "Don't wanna commentate." "An I could show you how it's done-" "I know how it's done." "You just need loosening up, like." Jack winked. "Ain't nothing up here so high can stop us, Ennis." "Snow's comin." "Nah. Not for a long while yet." "I gotta saddle up. Be back tomorrow." Ennis always hated Joe Aguirre for bringing them down from Brokeback early. Too goddamn early. They hadn't had time on their side as it was, back then, and Aguirre had to go fuck things up further. The happiest time of Ennis's life, he realised too many years later, were those carefree Eden-like days on the flat meadows ridging the mountain, clouds curling round the back like arms encircling, looking down on the backs of eagles from up high, coyote tracks like little cigarette burn-marks on the land. Then there had been Jack. Ennis thought the name so many times he couldn't keep himself from saying it out loud, just like back in the days when him and Alma had been fresh, biting his tongue all the damn time. He thought Jack Twist when he went to the letterbox. When he went to the store. Jack Twist and here's a coupon for the cans of beef stew; that processed, not-quite-meat shit he hated but ate anyway. Jack Twist ain't enough but I can have money to you by the end of the month for them new tires, he'd say to his mechanic. Goddamn it, there was Jack Twist in the way he walked, Jack Twist in the way he talked, Jack Twist in the way he just was. He knew he would never be able to give it up. He wondered, years later, his curls having straightened and dulled to a silver-grey, what things would be like now if him and Jack had had that last month. That short, lost Brokeback month. "I ain't seen nothin crazier than a rodeo." "You better believe it, herder." Jack hung on to his mare for dear life. "She won't throw me, she won't throw me, no lord-" Except she had. "Jesus H. You all right?" "Yeah. Just... a little help here?" "Christ. Jack-" Damn bluff; Jack tripping him, catching him as he fell. Kissing him, tipping his hat off because it got in the way, hand snaking down into his jeans before he could even gasp, 'Jack, damn you'. Ennis pushed those terrible, melancholy, almost-were thoughts aside, hanging the shirts back on their rusted nail, straightening the postcard bleached of colour over the years. Breathing again. Running a finger down the sleeve, his fingernail caught in a little hole torn in from one of Jack's nastier falls. He tugged at the hole with his pinkie and the corner of his lips tugged up in counterpoint; his eyes were a little bright, a little moist, but it was okay because there was no one around to see him. It hadn't happened. None of it had happened. "Son of a bitch, Jack." So soft it was as if his mouth hadn't even parted to blow air out, let alone words. Quiet as dust Ennis pressed the closet shut and walked out of his trailer, the door closing with a snick behind him. ~Fin~ |
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