A/N: Well, so much for my taking a break. And this is NOT the end, although the chapter ends with a touch of "the end" feeling to it.

The dream was a different this time. Usually Ennis saw Jack walking, or driving, before he was set upon by the men with the tire irons. Tonight, the dream was especially cruel, because it snuck up on him. It came to his sleeping mind in the guise of a pleasant dream and set him up with illusions of happiness and comfort. He was sitting on the top crossbar of one of the log fences. The sky was blue; he could hear the stock lowing and the river burbling. Jack was standing between his knees and they were kissing, slow and leisurely kisses of the kind that might go on for hours and hours, the kind they rarely had time for in their waking lives. Jack's arms were around him and he felt safe and loved, like nothing could ever hurt them here on their own land, so long as they held on to each other. Jack was warm and strong, and Ennis was filled with a profound sense of peace.

He ran his hands up into Jack's hair, but when he pulled them back, he was clutching big handfuls of it. He stared at his fingers as Jack's hair blew away in the breeze. He looked up at Jack, who was smiling and didn't seem to realize what was happening. Dark patches of fog gathered around them and solidified into faceless men who seized Jack by the arms and dragged him away. Ennis reached out to help him, but he couldn't get off the fence. One of the men pushed him and he fell over backwards into the paddock. The fence was suddenly as tall as the sky, and Ennis could only look through the gaps between the logs and watch while the men with the tire irons grabbed Jack's arms and pulled them clean off. Ennis was screaming and screaming, but no sound was coming out. He saw that Jack was still smiling as the men tore him limb from limb. The last thing he saw was Jack's head, knocked off his body with one swing of the tire iron, and it landed at his feet, still smiling.

Ennis jerked awake, gasping and sweating. "Fuck," he muttered, raising his hands to his face to muffle the sobs that wanted to burst from his chest. Jack rolled over, blinking.

"Ennis?" he said, his voice thick. He saw the state Ennis was in and his expression grew alarmed. "You have a bad dream?" Ennis couldn't speak. He reached out and pulled Jack close, wrapping his arms around his blessedly whole and unharmed body. Jack didn't question him, just let Ennis clutch him for a few moments. "It's okay," Jack murmured. "Just a nightmare."

But Ennis couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't just a nightmare. It had been coming to him more and more frequently in the last month. He'd had it three times in the past week, and now this newly horrifying version of it had been visited upon him. He knew he'd be seeing those images behind his eyelids for a long time. "Yeah," he said, his voice sounding shaky to his own ears. "Just a bad dream."

Jack stroked Ennis's hair as his breathing returned to normal. "Better get some sleep, cowboy," he whispered. "We gotta get up for church in a few hours."

Jack started to roll away but Ennis held him back. "Jack, I…" He had never been very good at articulating what he wanted or needed, and his disorientation wasn't helping. Jack was looking at him with raised eyebrows, waiting. Ennis put a hesitant hand on Jack's smooth chest. "Can we…um…" He shook his head, averting his eyes. "D'you mind?" he finally muttered. "I mean…if you don't…"

Jack kissed him to cut off the awkward plea, then slid closer, nodding. "C'mere," he whispered, kissing him again. Ennis kissed back, relieved. He rolled Jack onto his back and settled between his legs, then dove into his mouth searching for the reassurance he knew didn't exist. Still, as Jack writhed beneath him, whispering his name as Ennis thrust into him, he could at least be reassured that Jack was here, he was whole, and he was as safe as Ennis knew how to make him.

Liz collected herself and made sure she'd stopped shaking before she headed back into the house. She hurried through the living room and down the hall to Jack and Ennis's room.

She knocked sharply, then opened the door and poked her head in, not caring what she might see. They were just sleeping, Jack on his side, facing away from her, and Ennis on his stomach. Ennis was lifting his head, blinking. "Ennis!" she said, not bothering to temper her voice. "Jack! Wake up!" Jack rolled over and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Lizzie? What the hell…what timezit?"

"It's just after seven. Come on, get up. Something's happened."

Ennis's eyes snapped open. "Junior?"

"No, she's still asleep. I'm getting her up next. Just get dressed, you've got to see something." She shut the door and turned around to rouse Junior.

A few minutes later she led all three of them out the front door, a mini-parade of pajama bottoms and hastily grabbed t-shirts. "I woke up early this morning and decided to go out for a walk," she explained, leading them across the dooryard towards the hay barn, the building nearest the road. It was painted a neat red-and-white and sat on a slight rise, making it easily visible from both directions. "I was coming back when I saw it."

They rounded the corner of the barn. Junior gasped and stopped short, her hands flying to her face. Jack kept walking, craning his neck and trying to see it all at once. Ennis stood next to Junior, his face an impassive mask.

On the side of the barn, in rough letters that stretched from ground to eaves and covered the barn's full length, was the word FAGGOTS in bright white paint.

"Oh my God," Junior cried, her voice shaking.

"Holy hell," Ennis muttered, shaking his head. Liz could see his jaw clenching. Jack was standing dead center in front of the defaced barn, staring up at it with his hands on his hips. Junior made her way towards him, stumbling a few times because she couldn't take her eyes off of it.

Liz looked away. She'd seen enough. The shock of seeing that word on the barn was leaving her with an adrenaline hangover and a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She looked up at Ennis's face. "Forrester?" she said quietly.

He sighed. "If it ain't, then the timing's a bitch of a coincidence. But that ain't what concerns me."

"I know."

"He did this in one night…Lizzie, that barn's thirty feet tall. That means ladders, a helluva lotta paint…" Ennis met her eyes, and she saw that he'd reached the same conclusion she had.

She nodded. "He couldn't have done it alone." She turned towards the barn, crossing her arms. "How did no one hear him? Why didn't the dogs bark?"

"Dogs stay with the stock, mostly. This barn don't got no stock, it's far from the paddocks, it's the one you c'n see from the road. He knew what he was about, that's for sure."

Liz and Ennis joined Junior and Jack where they stood. Junior turned to Ennis, tears on her face. "Who did this, Daddy? Who, and why?"

"I cain't say for sure, honey, but I got an idea. We mighta made an enemy of the fella what beat on Jack yesterday at the fair."

"What'll you do?"

"Paint over it, 'o course. But it'll have to wait till tomorrow. I'll get Stubbs to rustle up a crew in the morning and take care of it." He sighed. "I'll have to call Walter, too. He oughta know 'bout this."

Jack suddenly took a step back and gave a brisk nod. "Well, I like it!" he proclaimed in a cheerful voice. "It makes a statement, don'tcha think?" He held up his hands as if framing a picture. "Hell, yes! It works, in a pop-art kinda way! I think we oughta keep it! It'll sure make giving directions to the ranch a helluva lot easier. 'Oh, you cain't miss it! Just turn when you see the barn that says FAGGOTS!' Shit, we c'n paint QUEERBOYS on the garage to match it!" He kicked at the grass, then turned and strode towards the house, a furious expression on his face. "That motherfucker," he muttered as he passed them.

Junior came back to Ennis's side; he put an arm around her shoulders. "It's okay, Junior. We'll set things to rights."

Liz tried to gauge Ennis's emotions and came up blank. "Have you ever had anything like this happen before?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Like this? No way. I'm…" He trailed off. "Christ, I dunno what to say," he murmured.

The mood in the pickup was grim, to say the least. Jack tried not to look at their profanity-enhanced barn as they left the ranch, but it was a little hard to miss.

Ennis drove in silence. Lizzie had declined their invitation to come along, saying she wasn't much of a church-goer. Junior had begged off so she could squeeze in another ride before they had to take her to the airport that afternoon. They passed through town center, sleepy and quiet on a Sunday morning. Jack couldn't help but glare at Forrester's restaurant as they drove by. "Ennis, wait…pull over." Ennis stopped the truck. "What the hell?"

Gus and Nora Flaubert were sitting in front of the restaurant on folding lawn chairs. "What're they doing?" Ennis said.

"I dunno. Let's go ask 'em."

They got out of the truck and crossed the street. Gus, overall-clad as always, waved and smiled. "Morning!" he said.

"Mornin', Gus."

"You fellas on your way to church?"

"We sure are. Might be inclined to ask why you ain't."

Gus and Nora exchanged a glance. "We're performing a public service."

"You two holdin' down the sidewalk, then?" Jack said with a grin.

"We're just making sure that people who come here know that the owner is a hate-mongering bigot," Nora said.

Jack sagged a bit. He ought to have known. Since he'd paid for their boy Augie's funeral, Gus and Nora had treated him as a kind of low-level god. In his mind he was only making reparations for whatever role he'd played in Augie's death, but the Flauberts didn't see it that way. They were always the first to jump to his defense. "Look, I appreciate the gesture, but…"

"We don't need his kind here," Gus said firmly. "Maybe if his business fails, he'll pick up stakes and leave." He raised his eyebrows. "Although that might happen all by itself. Word's spreading about what happened at the fair. It's been mighty slow this morning."

"Why don't you and Nora come to church?" Jack said. "You c'n ride with us. We'll squeeze."

"Pastor'll understand if we miss one day," Gus said. "This is important."

Jack squatted down in front of them. "Gus, Nora…I'm awful touched that you think so. But if you're interferin' with the man's business…that might be called harassment, and I don't want nobody gettin' in trouble, leas' of all nice folks like you. I don't wanna be the cause of nobody's bad fortune, even Stan Forrester's."

Gus frowned. "If he's got bad fortune, it's his own damned fault."

"I don't disagree. But if'n he ever wanted to make things real ugly, he could claim that I sicced all my friends on him and drove him outta business. I don't want him to have no ammo on me, or on you. You get what I mean?"

Gus shifted a bit. "I didn't think of it that way."

Jack straightened up and laid a hand on Gus's shoulder. "You were jus' tryin' to do right by us." He prayed that Gus hadn't driven by the ranch that morning. "And I appreciate it. Let's just leave the man alone. I think he's more'n capable of diggin' his own grave without our help."

Nora and Gus nodded to each other. "Okay, Jack," she said. "If that's what you want."

"That's what's right, honey. Now, you comin' to church?"

"Oh, we'll be along. We'll just pack up our chairs and get the car."

"Okay, then. We'll see you there." He glanced at Ennis and they headed back to the pickup. Jack could sense Ennis watching him as they got back on the road to their church, Cargill Methodist on the north side. He rested his elbow on the window frame and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, feeling the beginnings of a headache already.

"Lookit you, up there on your moral high ground," Ennis muttered. "How's the view?"

"I'd rather stay up here than let him try'n push me off."

"I think it was nice, what Gus 'n Nora did. And you know damn well that ain't harassment, rodeo. They was on a public sidewalk where they can say 'n do what they please."

"I ain't takin' no chances. We're talkin' 'bout a man who snuck onto our property and somehow arranged to deface the largest barn in this county. I ain't riskin' him getting' any kind 'o grudge against Gus 'n Nora. They're too nice 'n too trustin'. They don't know what they're dealin' with."

They pulled into the church's parking lot. Ennis parked the truck and turned to face him. "Is this another one 'o your stupid 'I don't wanna let no one else fight my battles for me' things?"

"No, this is one 'o my stupid 'Keepin' my friends outta trouble is more important than takin' revenge on some fuckin' nutjob' things."

Ennis nodded. "Well…okay. Just so's we're clear on that."

They were a few minutes late for the start of the service, so they slipped in the back and sat down in one of the last pews. Grant and Martha Linebeck were two pews ahead; they turned and gave them a little wave. Jack caught the mayor's eye across the aisle; they exchanged a grim little nod.

After the service Ennis retreated to the coffee pot to talk horses with Army Robicheaux, as usual, leaving Jack to handle the nice-to-see-you's and ain't-it-a-nice-day's, as usual. He waited for someone to mention having seen their barn, but no one did. "Oh, your poor face, Jack," Martha Linebeck said, clucking over him like a mother hen.

"Wish I'd been there," Grant said. "I'd've given that guy what-for."

"You'da had to take a number behind Ennis, then."

"Just so's you know, the church council will not be holding our Wednesday night meetings at that man's restaurant any longer."

Jack smiled. "Well, that's nice 'o you, Grant, but I'd hate to think that the council was bein' subjected to the Wednesday Night Special over at Marleybone's on my account."

Their laughter was interrupted when Pastor Greenfield approached, his usual air of serenity and calm coming along with him. "Excuse me, folks. Jack, may I have a word with you?"

Jack nodded to Grant and Martha and let the pastor pull him aside. "I heard about the unpleasantness at the fair," Greenfield said, his eyes flicking to Jack's bruised cheek. "It's a shame you were subjected to such an attack."

Jack sighed. "It ain't a perfect world, Mike. It's bound to happen from time to time."

"You know that Mr. Forrester has been going to St. John's Methodist, I assume."

"S'what I heard."

"I've spoken to my counterpart there and expressed our concerns that Mr. Forrester may be trying to…well, stir up trouble."

Jack thought again of the barn, but decided not to mention it until the sheriff had seen it. "If he aims to stir up trouble then he's stupider'n he looks. If'n he hopes to live here and have a business, that ain't the way to go 'bout it."

"I agree. But…I hate to say it, Jack, but surely you know that there are people in this town who disapprove of you, even hate you. Possibly people in this very congregation."

"I know. It ain't their disapproval what concerns me, I cain't control that. What concerns me is someone inspirin' them to do more'n just disapprove quietly from afar."

Pastor Greenfield nodded. "We'll just have to be extra vigilant, won't we? Pastor Delaford over at St. John's agrees with me on this." He smiled, and put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Just remember that you and Ennis still have many friends here. A few outspoken malcontents doesn't change that."

Jack had to look away so the pastor wouldn't see him tearing up. "Thanks, Mike. That's a comfort."

Ennis stood off to the side while the sheriff looked at the ground along the barn's defaced wall. He'd already taken photos of the damage, and now he was making a few notes as he duck-walked along. "Got some ladder impressions here," he said. "You're right. Couldn'tve been a one-man job."

"It's gotta be that asshole Forrester."

"I agree, but we can't prove it. I know you must be mad that the man took a potshot at Jack, but unfortunately that doesn't make him a vandal." He straightened up and rejoined Ennis, shaking his head as he looked up at the barn. "I can't believe this happened here," he said. "You boys have never had any trouble like this."

"Like as not it'll blow over."

"Let's hope so."

"C'n we paint over it, then?"

"Oh, sure. I've got what I need. I'd say the sooner, the better."

"Ennis!" Jack shouted from the house. "Time to get movin', cowboy!"

"Y'okay!" Ennis yelled back.

"Got somewhere to be?" Walter asked.

"Takin' my daughter to the airport. She's flyin' back to Wyoming."

"Arlene Trimble told me that your girl's moving in here to go to school up in Middlebury."

Ennis sighed. "My, don't tongues wag 'round here."

"Was I correctly informed?" the sheriff asked, grinning.

"I'm glad t'say that you were. I cain't wait to have her here all the time."

"That's good news, Ennis. Look, I'm going to ask this Forrester guy a few questions anyway. Off the record, just two fellas talking. Maybe I can get one of the deputies to act like he's of a like mind, see if we can get him to admit what he did to your barn here."

"You do what you have to, Walter. I jus' want it clean again."

To Liz's relief, Jack, Ennis and Junior all wanted her to come along to the airport with them. She liked Junior, and was sorry to see her leave just as they were getting to know each other. The size of the outing did mean that they had to take Jack's Mercedes. "Now, y'sure you wanna take it, rodeo?" Ennis teased him. "'Cause me 'n Liz could just hunker down in the bed 'o one of the pickups if'n you don't wanna get that pretty paintjob dusty, now."

"Oh, that's real funny, cowboy," Jack grumbled as they piled into the car. "You're jus' too fuckin' hilarious for words. You oughta take that act on the road."

Liz relaxed into the back seat of the car, listening to Ennis and Jack jab at each other as they pulled onto the interstate, heading north to Burlington. Junior leaned towards her. "Sweet, aren't they?" she whispered, giggling.

Liz nodded. "And they say romance is dead."

Ennis wanted to wait with Junior until her flight was called, but she wouldn't hear of it. "Daddy, I don't want you away from the ranch for any longer than's absolutely necessary, not after what happened last night."

"Don't you worry your pretty head about it," Ennis said, chucking her chin.

Junior fixed him with a stern stare. "And don't patronize me! That's gonna be my ranch too, remember? I'll worry about it if I've a mind to, y'hear?"

Ennis sighed. "She ain't even livin' here yet, and already she's bossin' me around, rodeo."

"I'm impressed. I've taught her well," Jack said, nodding sagely.

Junior turned to Liz and hugged her. "It sure was nice to meet you, Liz," she said.

"The pleasure was all mine."

"I hope I'll see you again."

"I'm sure you will." Liz pulled back. "This project won't be a short one. I'm sure I'll be paying more visits while I write."

Junior turned to Jack, whose sad puppy-dog expression was so over the top that it had to be genuine. Junior pooched out her lower lip and sighed. "Bye, Jack," she said. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly.

"You take care, sweetheart," he said, hugging her back. "We'll be countin' the days till you come back for good, y'hear?"

She pulled back and kissed his cheek. "Look after my dad, okay?" Liz heard her whisper.

Jack nodded and tweaked her nose. "I surely will."

Ennis shuffled and stared at the floor as Junior made it around to him. "Visits always over too soon," he muttered.

"I know, Daddy. But next time it's for keeps."

Ennis nodded, then reached out quickly and embraced her. Junior's breath hitched a bit as she wrapped her arms around his waist. "You give your sister a big hug for me," Ennis said. "And tell your mamma that I'll be callin' so's we c'n talk about how 'n when to move your things 'n such."

Junior nodded against his chest. "I will." She drew back and smiled up at him. "I can't wait to live here."

"Me neither, honey," Ennis said. He kissed her forehead.

She stepped back. "Okay, no more goodbyes, now. Y'all get along back to the ranch." She made shooing motions with her hands, smiling even while a tear leaked from one of her eyes.

Jack and Ennis reluctantly turned, pausing to wave to her one last time. Liz followed along as they walked back down the concourse, both of them shoving their hands in their pockets and ducking their heads down. By now she knew the body language, and said nothing.

It was a quiet ride home. Liz let her head rest against the doorframe and watched the green fields go by, idly counting the cows that were looking at them as they passed. The afternoon sun was sinking lower in the sky, dipping the east side of the mountains into purple shadows.

Ennis stared out the passenger-side window, his elbow propped on the window frame, his chin in his hand. Jack drove on in silence, one hand on the wheel. No one turned on the radio or spoke for miles.

Liz heard a brief sniff and a hitch of breath. Ennis made a quick motion with his fingers, swiping at his cheek, keeping his gaze fixed out the window. She watched the back of his head, the dark-blonde curls covering a mind she'd only barely begun to know. She wondered if she'd ever know the depth of his pain at being separated from his children. What must it be like? she wondered. To have to choose between being near the daughters you adore, or being with the love of your life? How had he ever made the choice that he had? She could easily imagine him going the other direction. Choosing to stay in Riverton, telling Jack to go back to Childress after he'd made his impulsive sixteen-hour journey upon learning of Ennis's divorce. Would he be there still? Would Jack still be in Childress, married to Lureen? Would they still be trying to squeeze a lifetime into a few short fishing trips a year? It had been barely a week since she'd met them, and already Liz could not imagine one without the other. She couldn't possibly picture them separated, living lives that didn't include each other. She couldn't even fathom how they'd done it for the twelve years they had.

Ennis sniffed again and exhaled a shaky breath, the only expression of his sadness he'd allow himself. Without taking his eyes off the road, Jack raised his arm and rubbed a reassuring hand across Ennis's shoulders before settling it on the back of his neck. Liz watched Jack's thumb gently stroke Ennis's skin, and she saw Ennis relax a little. He looked over at Jack, the hesitant beginnings of a sad smile on his lips. Jack met his eyes, only a quick glance away from the road ahead, then lowered his hand from Ennis's neck. Ennis's arm shifted slightly towards the middle. Liz smiled and closed her eyes, not needing to look to know that their clasped hands were resting between them on the front seat.

By the time they got back to the ranch, it was coming on evening. Ennis spoke for the first time since they'd left the airport. "Goddamn, that fuckin' barn is the las' thing I wanna see right now."

"Shut your eyes, then," Jack said. "I mean to look at nothin' but the yellow line."

They crested the last hill. There it was, the word FAGGOTS, big as life. Except…that wasn't all there was. Jack leaned forward, his brow creasing. "What the hell…"

Liz craned her neck to see past Ennis's head, which was blocking her view. They pulled into the gravel drive and Jack stopped the car. His mouth was hanging open. "You gotta be kiddin' me," Ennis muttered.

Liz stared. She hoped to hell that what she was seeing wasn't some kind of sleepy mirage.

There were about twenty cars and trucks parked along the drive and on the edges of the fields. "I'll be goddamned," Jack said, as they stared in disbelief at the crowd of people who were lined up alongside the barn, all of them holding brushes and buckets, busily painting the barn red again.

Liz climbed out of the car in a daze. She saw Fred and Arlene Trimble, and the mayor, and the man in the overalls from the fair. She saw Paul and Roger, and a few familiar faces she didn't yet have names for. There were some young kids, all of them generously dappled with bright red barn paint.

Jack and Ennis came up beside her and stood staring at this impromptu painting party. "I cain't believe it," Jack said, his voice breathy with amazement.

Someone saw them and raised a cry of greeting, and within a few seconds all the paint brushes and buckets were set down and everybody was coming down the slope towards them. Jack and Ennis drifted forward, comprehension dawning on their faces. Fred Trimble reached them first. Jack shook his hand with gusto, gaping past him to the partially repainted barn. "Fred…Arlene…what is all this?"

"What does it look like? We're painting this barn." Fred clapped a hand to Jack's shoulder. "Couldn't let the sun go down on it the way it was," he said, smiling.

Jack exhaled and hugged Fred, slapping his back. "Goddamn, was this your idea?"

"I don't know whose idea it was," Fred said. "It just…seemed like something that needed doing." Liz saw people nodding.

Ennis shook his head, looking out across the smiling faces, many of them paint-splattered. "Y'all…Christ," he stammered. "I don't know what to say."

Paul laughed. "Well, you could say 'gimme a paintbrush,'" he said, prompting a round of whoops and cheers.

"Well, hell! Give us all a paintbrush!" Jack cried.

The crowd, three bodies stronger, surged back up the hill and set to the task at hand with determination. What could be reached from the ground was finished within half an hour, and then ladders were being untied from pickup racks, the roofs of cars, and hauled out from the ranch's storehouse.

Liz was getting ready to dive in again when she was seized by the hand and yanked away. "Come on," Marianne said, dragging her back to the house. "You're going to help me get together some food for all these folks." Liz looked back over her shoulder at the barn. She saw Ennis on a ladder, laughing as Roger kept missing him with the paintbrush he was trying to toss up to him. She saw Jack with Jimmy Trimble sitting on his shoulders, the boy reaching up to paint over the crossbar of the second letter 'G.'

The painting party lasted until after sunset. As the sunlight died, cars were moved and arranged facing the barn, their headlights illuminating the work. Someone produced a radio, and soon Liz could hear the painters singing along to "Mama Told Me Not to Come" with more enthusiasm than synchronization.

When the barn was finished, a cheer went up from the team. Marianne somehow threw together a large pot of sloppy joes and some coleslaw, and within minutes the back porch was crowded with people, most of whom were liberally slathered with red barn paint. Ennis's hair was a color previously unknown to nature, and Jack had a swatch of red right across his forehead. Another cheer went up as Fred Trimble produced a keg of beer. The mayor got the first cup, and stood on a table to make a toast. "To Stan Forrester," he said, eliciting a round of booing and hissing. "May he vent his spleen on my house next, because I sure as hell don't want to paint it by myself!" More cheers.

Liz watched Jack and Ennis from a deck chair in the corner. They were transformed. They moved easily among their friends and neighbors, laughing and talking. Even Ennis seemed animated. She wondered if this was part of Stan Forrester's master plan. His aim would seem to have been to demoralize the queer ranchers and make them feel ostracized and demeaned. Yet here they were, surrounded by goodwill, their friends rallying around them, while his poison on their barn had lasted less than twenty-four hours. She had no doubt that it wasn't the last time Jack and Ennis would face such attacks, but all of this bolstered her confidence in their ability to weather them.

She remembered something Jack had told her, early in their acquaintance. The only way bad folks win, he'd said, is for good folks to do nothing. Turned out that if the good folks did something, not only did they win, they didn't even have to try very hard to do it.