The Path.10

Drabble: 1100 words
Genre: Canon { will be A/U later on}
Pairing: Ennis and Jack
Disclaimer: AP created'em, I just play with'em out of love

He 'bout laughed his ass off over seein me with a hangover. He whooped and hollered cause he knew it was killin me. At least breakfast was ready, and the coffee was hot. It was a good morning if I do say so; better'n I expected. Maybe he didn't remember what happened last night.

Seeing Jack acting the fool, being his normal self, was a comfort. He even snuck up and pulled my shirt out while I was bent over my plate, eatin the eggs, bacon 'n grits. My complainin stomach and poundin head settled down as I saw that I wadn't gonna have to defend myself, or the way I was actin last night. I know the only thing that saved me was that he could not see the way I was thinkin on him the last few weeks.

Made up my mind to do better 'bout that nonsense. No more. Figured the thing I needed to do was to think strongly on Alma Beers, my intended wife.

Yeah, that's what I'd do.

The day went along good enough; rained again in the afternoon. I laid up in the pup tent and worked a bit on the horse I was whittlin. Thought 'bout givin it to Alma, but what would she care about it? Knew it was for Jack all along.

My daddy was a pretty good whittler; used to make small things for us kids to look at and play with. Made me a elk once, looked almost real. I ain't no good at this yet, but I can see that somehow I know how to make it look just right, better than I did when I started in on it. Hope Jack likes this horse.

Fell asleep here in the pup tent, knife and horse still in my hand. A rainy afternoon is a sleepy afternoon, 'specially if ya ain't been sleepin good. Can't say I put in any time thinkin on Alma, but I plan to. Yep, I'm gonna do that.

At dusk I was gettin hungry. I was packin the horse to make my rounds and then go down to supper. I heard a ruckus among the sheep. Sounded like one or more a them was in distress, so I jumped on Cigar Butt and scouted around that way. Sure enough, a coyote was stalking a lamb, and the mother was raisin a fuss. I kilt that sonofabitch, and hung his tail up. His scent was a warning to the others to stay away.

I know coyotes can't help being predators. God made'em that way. It's their job to catch and drag off smaller animals to feed to their young ones, and it's my job to stop them. Seems like there oughta be a better plan.

Did God make me to want Jack? It feels so right - like it was meant for me all along – wantin him. But that don't seem right. My daddy and his friends always made it their business to stop or kill anyone doin that. Man wantin another man, ranchin up with him. Felt it was their christian duty or somethin.

Just like that coyote wants a sheep, and it's my job to stop him. I don't think I understand God. What's he want us to do?

Through supper, Jack talked on and on about how much he hated workin for Aguirre, and how unfair life was, and how it was gettin cold enough to freeze yer ass off . . . and a bunch a other gripes. I let him get them off his chest, cause I had plenty on my own mind.

Pretty soon, Jack got on a livelier subject. He went on and on about how great a bull rider he was gonna be if and when he ever got the chance. How there'd be no stoppin him, and how he'd have buckles and trophies and money galore.

Ever so often I'd nod my head and say "hmmm"; then he'd go right on as usual. I was thinkin that surely God would want me to marry Alma; but how could I do that? He'd already showed me who I needed and wanted?

I had 'bout a thousand ideas about how to make Jack happy, and give him the life he shoulda had from the very beginnin 'steada bein a punchin bag for that ol' bastard who called hisself his father. I figgered that havin No father was better than havin a rotten one.

Spent some time tryin to think up ways to make Alma happy, and what our life would be like. She could give me babies, I knew that would be good. I'd finally have a family a my own. But I couldn't picture what we'd do all day, or what we'd talk about 'round the dinner table. She'd want me to talk, I know that.

Jack takes care a that for me. With him, I don't feel no pressure to be somebody I ain't.

All night as I was thinking these deep thoughts on Life, I'd take a big swallow a Old Rose and then pass it to Jack. He'd take a big swallow too, and then pass it back to me. 'Fore I knew it, that bottle was empty and I tossed it away into the darkness. It was really late, and it was as cold as I can ever remember it gettin up on that mountain. I wandered around in circles on my knees a bit 'fore I realized my legs wouldn't hold me. Decided I'd sleep it off awhile, round that fire, then I'd ride up to the sheep at first light.

Jack bitched at me for not sleepin in the tent, said the point was we should both be stayin in this camp. Aguirre had no right to make us sleep up with the sheep on the QT. I'd heard this before, and I was 'bout passed out, so I just rolled up in the ground cloth and was soon dead to the world.

Jack stumbled on over to the tent still grumblin. "Well, all right then. Freeze your ass off when that fire burns out." It was the last thing I heard till he called my name hours later.

"Ennis! . . . Ennis!"

"Whut?"

"Quitcher hammerin and git in here!"

It took me a minute or so to figure out where I was. I was so cold my jaws hurt from clenchin them, and from my teeth chatterin. I was shivering so hard my muscles was all bunched up tight. Jack was right about me freezin my ass off.

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