Title: One Mistake

Fandom: Brokeback Mountain

Characters: Jack Twist

Prompt: 025 -- Strangers

Word Count

Rating: PG

Summary: Jack's tire has blown out and a perfectly good day is about to have one hell of an end.

OO

It was late afternoon as Jack Twist sped down the buckled, potholed blacktop in his old, beat up truck. The August heat was finally beginning to die down somewhat, and the cowboy whistled along with Johnny Cash on the radio as he drove.

Jack was in a pretty good mood. L.D fucking Newsome had taken his wife on an anniversary cruise in the Caribbean or Mediterranean or some damn islands, he hadn't been paying a whole damn lot of attention, so he had four in-law free weeks to look forward to.

And this weekend Lureen was going to Dallas with some of her no-brained girlfriends from college, leaving Jack and Bobby to have a weekend with just the men. He had a notion to take Bobby down to the rodeo. The kid loved watching the bull riders, imagining that his Daddy had been that talented.

And stupid as it sounded and mad as it still made him feel, September was starting the next day and that meant he had only two more months until he could next see Ennis. At the moment he was still damn furious about what had been said and what hadn't been said during their Spring trip, but his body's longing was getting louder than his brain's anger.

Jack sped up a little as he headed down the back road toward his home. It was getting close to six, when dinner was put on the table, and Lureen had a tendency to get pretty mean when he was late.

It was five minutes later that the front right corner of his truck suddenly dipped forward and Jack went spinning. He slammed on the breaks, skidding and screeching until he finally came to rest with his cab up on the blacktop and his rear in the shallow ditches on either side of the road.

"Goddamn." He said, breathing heavily and trying to calm his heart as it beat jack rabbit fast.

One he felt like he walk somewhat steady and without shaking too bad, he climbed out of the truck and walked around to the confirm his suspicion. The front tire had blown out, of all damn things. Damn car was older than dirt and ready to shatter to pieces and it was the eight month old tired that stranded him.

"Goddamn, summabitch truck." Jack muttered under his breath, stalking to the bed of his truck where he kept the spare. He knew perfectly well how to change the damn tire, but it was going to take a little bit of time and Lureen was still going to yell at him for being late.

He hauled the tire out of the bed and set it on the ground, trying to ignore the protesting in his back and arms. He was getting old, his fortieth birthday grew closer every year and with each year he felt the rodeo circuit taking it's payment for youth's enthusiasm. He bones ached when he went up to Wyoming in November and there were even starting to do so in Texas's much milder weather.

As he rolled the tire toward the front, he tried to take stock of where he was. The country out this way was pretty empty for the most part. A lot of their ranch customers lived out this way, raising cattle and selling them for beef. There wasn't much hope of someone friendly coming along to help.

Sighing, Jack set about getting the old tire off. Not too much later he started his started to get a funny feeling down in his gut. He couldn't say what it was exactly, a bit like when someone was staring at you, but different. He started to work faster.

Not more than a minute later he looked up and happened to glance behind him. Two men were walking up the blacktop. Relief flooded through him. With two people giving help, he would be done in a few minutes and be home only five minutes late.

Jack stood and brushed road dust off his pants. He fixed his broad smile on his face.

"Howdy!" He called, walking up the road toward. The two men sped up, but didn't say anything. One of them was holding something long and thin in his hand. Jack creased his brow, but didn't worry to much. They were probably checking for animals caught in the fence and brought a gun along to put any out of their misery.

"When they were six feet away, Jack got a good look at their faces. They were strangers to him. One had brown hair and a plain face, the other black with a scar on his cheek. To his puzzlement, the black haired one was holding a tire iron.

"Ain't I glad y'all came 'long." Jack said cheerfully. The men didn't say anything.

Jack felt that feeling rise up to a scream. Something was not right.

When the they reached him, without missing a beat, the black haired man swung the tire iron above his head.

Jack's blood ran cold with fear and knowing as he watched it swing down onto his face.

END