So this is my latest venture, based on Brokeback Mountain. You don't need to have seen the movie to understand the story, don't worry. I've written pretty much the whole thing so you can expect steady updates. Please enjoy and REVIEW or I won't continue - I do this with all my stories; you don't get more if you don't review. So REVIEW! Ok, you can go ahead and read now.
NOTE: I understand both characters are a little OOC here; I have portrayed them similarly to Jack and Ennis in Brokeback Mountain.
Chapter One
Signal, Wyoming
1963
Jesse St James sat on the step outside the dingy trailer, taking a long drag on his cigarette. He closed his eyes, feeling himself relax. He had never known what it was to be calm until he had taken up smoking.
It was early; the sun was up but had not yet begun to scorch, and there was still a gentle cooling breeze leftover from the night. A perfect summer dawn. Jesse watched as an old green truck pulled up, sending the dust flying. He watched as the driver stepped out, slamming the door. This man was smaller than Jesse, but he held himself in the same strong way. He wondered if this man's strength was genuine, or if it was only skin deep, like Jesse's. The man's hair was dark, almost black, and slicked back. Jesse guessed that the gel hid a mess of unruly curls, and felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He could certainly identify with that. His curls were the only part of himself he couldn't completely control, so he gave up long ago and let the dark waves grow out. The other man met his gaze for a moment and nodded at him briefly. His eyes sparkled. A dreamer, Jesse thought. The stranger proceeded to shave in his truck's wing mirror. Jesse noticed his tired shirt and worn boots.
After a few minutes, a white stationwagon rolled towards them. Dust was thrown over the other man, who coughed and spilled his shaving water. Jesse supressed a laugh. The vehicle parked up, and Jesse immediately stood and rammed his hat onto his head, noticing the stranger hurriedly doing the same. A man stepped out, not fat but not skinny, and totally bald. Jesse hoped he would never look even half as bad as this man when he grew older. The man stomped past the two waiting cowboys, not even pausing to glance. Jesse sighed and the other guy raised his eyebrows in surprise. Luckily, the door swung open after a few moments. 'If you pair of deuces are looking for work, I suggest you get your asses in here pronto', he stated. The two stepped inside quickly. It was a small, poky room, cluttered with papers and tools. There was a tiny television, showing a story about President Kennedy. The man switched off the set and sat at his desk, surveying the two with unrelenting scrutiny. Jesse took a nervous drag on his cigarette.
'I'm Burt. Burt Hummel', he told them. 'There's been a lot of sheep going missing what with coyotes and all. What I want is a camp tender in the main camp', he said, looking pointedly at Jesse, who nodded to show he understood, 'and a herder', he said, switching his gaze to the other man. 'The tender sleeps on the mountain, the herder camps lower down with the animals. You can set a fire and eat and wash and all up at the top, together, but you', he pointed at the smaller man, 'you must sleep with the sheep hundred percent, no fire', he ordered. Both men nodded. 'Good. We'll send a truck out to fetch you in the morning. You're going to Brokeback, boys', he said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. Jesse walked out quickly, glad to be in the fresh air and away from a situation with too many words.
The other man – his new workmate – held out his hand and grinned. Jesse noticed how his whole face lit up, his eyes bright, and ignored the way he made his heart beat a little faster. 'Blaine Anderson', the man offered. Jesse took his hand and shook it firmly, managing a small smile in return. 'Jesse', he said stiffly. It was only a name. Names he could do. Blaine frowned slightly. 'Your folks just named you Jesse?', he asked, a spark of humour in his eye. 'St James', Jesse elaborated. 'Nice to know you, Jesse St James. Since we're gonna be working together, I reckon we ought to start drinking together', he suggested. Jesse nodded curtly and they walked in companionable silence to the nearest bar.
Soon they were halfway through their second beer, and yet, not a word had been uttered between the two. Jesse liked silence. He didn't have to think of things to say, or listen to the other person. He could be with his thoughts, in peace. He was an observer. Finally, the silence was broken. 'It's my second year up here. Last year there was a thunderstorm, killed 42 sheep. Hummel got real mad, like I was supposed to control the weather', he chugged his beer and shrugged. 'Beats working for my old man anyhow. That's why I took to rodeoing. Did you ever rodeo?', he asked. Jesse had to collect himself before responding. 'Once in a while. When I can afford the entrance fees', he explained. Blaine nodded. 'What of your folks?', he prompted. 'Dead', Jesse said bluntly. 'Missed a turn in the road. Crashed. Killed them both', he recalled quietly. 'Shit. That's hard', Blaine said. Jesse could see he felt bad for bringing up the issue. He didn't mind; it was a long time ago and there had been no love between him and his parents anyway. He didn't miss them. But he couldn't tell Blaine this, so he shrugged and gave a half smile, hoping it would have the same effect. Their eyes met for a moment, Blaine's bright and alive, Jesse's sad and resigned. Blaine smiled at him, properly, not a grin like before, a real smile, and Jesse knew that Blaine cared. Blaine cared about him. The warm feeling in his chest was an unknown concept to Jesse and he couldn't quite handle it. His face returned to its sullen mask and he looked away, immediately regretting the snub. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. Jesse had a gulp of beer and looked out of the window, at the mountain in the distance. Brokeback Mountain.
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