A/N: I received a very interesting comment on the previous chapter from a reader who'd been wondering where all this was headed. When's the conflict going to be resolved? When are all these different story threads going to come together? Where's this all going?

Answer: nowhere in particular. I don't see this story as a discrete unit, but as part of a continuum. I'm not attempting to write a story with a traditional plot structure, i.e. Plot Point 1, Plot Point 2, Climax, Resolution. My only goal was to write about two men living as a gay couple in rural America, what that meant for their lives and the lives of those around them, and how they dealt with it. I wanted to look at how they dealt with their families, their neighbors, their business, the people who didn't approve of them, and of course how they dealt with each other and the ins and outs of their relationship. There are a number of conflicts in this story. Some may be resolved. Some may not be. Like life, that's the idea. Honestly, the point at which I end "Human Interest" and begin the sequel will be kind of arbitrary. They could just as easily be the same story, but I'd rather not write some kind of hundred-chapter behemoth. It's just easier to split it into individual stories.

The best analogy I can draw is the "Little House on the Prairie" books. Might seem strange, but it fits. Those books weren't headed anywhere in particular. They were just about Laura, her life as she grew from a girl to a woman, her family, her homes, her friends, and eventually her own husband and child. Sure, big events happened from time to time, but basically it just followed her along with whatever happened. So hopefully, you will care enough about Jack and Ennis and the people around them that you'll care about what happens to them, even if there isn't an ultimate point to it.

So that's my master plan. Stuff happens. It's simple, but I like it.

Also, yes, I'm conscious of having put poor Jack through the wringer in this story. Sorry, Jack. Hopefully it'll be someone else's turn soon.

At the end of this chapter, Ennis has what you might call a life-altering experience. I just hope it blends with his character as we know it so far.

It was difficult for Ennis to keep still and quiet while Marianne drove in her typically efficient, safe manner. All he wanted to do was shout Faster! Go faster! Run that red light! This was why he'd wanted her to drive...so they wouldn't end up splattered all over the pavement.

He stared out the window, tapping his clenched fist against his mouth. Jack. My Jack. Is not waking up. Was hurt by someone. Probably someone who's a friend of Stan Forrester. He shoved that thought away, hard, before the red veil of rage could descend over him and blot out all thoughts save one: kill him.

Marianne pulled up to the hospital and parked. Ennis was out of the car before it had stopped rolling and striding quickly to the doors, Marianne hurrying to catch up with him. "Jack Twist," he said to the receptionist. She consulted her little directory.

"He's up on three."

Ennis bolted for the stairs, deeming the elevators too slow, and emerged on the third floor. The first person he saw was Peter Llewellyn in a white coat, stethoscope around his neck, at the nurses' station. "Pete!"

He turned and sagged with relief when he saw Ennis. "Ennis, thank God Marianne found you. We didn't know where..."

"Where is he?"

Peter put out both hands to stop Ennis from barreling right past him. "Will you just hold up a moment?" he said. His no-nonsense doctor-voice, so unlike his usual way of speaking, made Ennis stop and refocus. "Okay. Jack was brought in last night with head trauma, he was struck with a two-by-four, here," he said, placing his hand on his own head a few inches above his left ear. "He had a few other scrapes and bruises but nothing serious. At this time, he is still unconscious."

Ennis swallowed hard. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"Well, his skull is intact. That's good news. Most of the time with this kind of injury, the patient sleeps for awhile and then wakes up with a hell of a headache. But if he doesn't wake up..." Peter sighed. "He could slip into a coma. We won't know if he suffered brain damage until he wakes up. I'm inclined to think that he didn't, if the blow wasn't strong enough to fracture his skull."

"Brain damage?" Ennis repeated, his voice bleached pale with horror. He thought of Jack, the Jack he knew, sharp and strong, quick-witted and cheerful. Then he thought of him with brain damage, maybe unable to talk, or see properly, or remember things...maybe not able to remember who Ennis was. The image was too awful to hold for long inside his head. It was a hot branding iron that'd burn him if he let it touch him too long, so he put it out of his mind before it left its scorch-mark.

Peter sighed. "Well, it's possible. Like I said, we won't know."

Ennis nodded, telling himself to think positive. Jack would be okay. No way he'd let some stupid piece of wood swung by an ignorant asshole take him down like that. "C'n I see him?" he asked. His voice sounded scratchy, like someone had run a cheese grater over his throat.

"Right this way." He led Ennis down the hall. "He's in there," Peter said, nodding through an open doorway. He put a hand on Ennis's arm. "I'll be at the nurses' station if you need me."

Ennis hardly noticed him leave. He walked slowly into Jack's room on feet that felt like blocks of ice, wanting to see him but afraid to at the same time. He kept his eyes downcast so all he saw was the tile floor until he made it to the foot of Jack's bed. He took a deep breath and looked up, and then the breath was pushed out of him in a rush. "Oh, rodeo," he whispered.

He looked pale. His dark hair was like a swatch of the night sky against the white sheets...well, half a swatch. The upper left half of his head was bandaged. Ennis made his way around the bed, drawing a chair close. He sat down slowly, his gaze riveted on Jack's face.

As he looked at his injured mate, the red veil threatened to descend over his eyes once again. He could feel it surging hard, demanding to be set free upon whoever was convenient. In his younger days, Ennis would have released the anger on a whim, letting it lash out at will. But he wasn't a young man anymore, and he wasn't free. He had Jack, and his girls, and a business to run with employees depending on him for their pay, so he'd be stronger than his own anger. He had to be. There was a time for that, and this wasn't it.

He reached out with tentative fingers and touched Jack's forearm where it lay on the bed. A purple bruise wrapped around his upper arm above his elbow. It looked like someone had grabbed him...Ennis could see the fingermarks. He brushed his fingertips over Jack's cheek, the scratchiness of his stubble rasping. Didn't get a shave this mornin', hoss. You're gettin' sloppy. Except Jack hadn't shaved that morning because he'd been lying in this hospital bed. Alone. Alone while Ennis had eggs and coffee in Dave Tomlinson's kitchen, and alone while Ennis covered the miles that he'd put between them. Alone while a gang of hoodlums jumped him in some parking lot.

Ennis was too worried and angry to really appreciate the size of the guilt he'd earned himself, but he could glimpse its sheer enormity as it waited to bury him in an avalanche he might never dig himself out of. I left him alone and they got him. Not with tire irons, but with two-by-fours.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Look what they done t'you, darlin'. Look what I let happen t'you. No, this wasn't the time for his rage. But that time would come. That was a promise.

Marianne was waiting by the nurse's station when Peter came back. "Charlene, call the sheriff," he said to the nurse. "He wanted to talk to Ennis as soon as he turned up."

"Pete, what about Jack?" Marianne asked, stepping forward.

Peter shook his head. "It's hard to say. My opinion? If he wakes up soon, he'll be fine." He picked up Jack's chart and flipped through it. "Everything else looks okay. If he sleeps more than a few more hours, I'm going to run an EEG on him. Brain-wave scan," he said, off Marianne's questioning look. He leaned on the counter, shaking his head. "I can't believe this."

"Sheriff got the boys that jumped him, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but they aren't talking."

The nurse tapped his arm. "Dr. Llewellyn, the sheriff says he's on his way over."

"Okay." Peter sighed, and walked back up the hall to Jack's room. He took a few steps inside and hesitated, loathe to intrude.

Ennis was sitting close to the bed, his eyes on Jack's sleeping face. He was holding Jack's hand, his other hand gently stroking Jack's forearm as if he were soothing him. Ennis wasn't a demonstrative man, not around other people, but in this cautious, quiet touch Peter could glimpse the tender nature that Ennis concealed behind his gruff exterior. He was about to say something to alert Ennis to his presence when Ennis suddenly spoke. "He fought back," he said.

"I know."

"Lookit his hands," Ennis said, drawing back a little and glancing up at Peter. Both of Jack's hands were bruised and scratched. Ennis cleared his throat. "Pete...did they take it?"

Peter frowned. "Take what?"

Ennis showed him the hand he was holding. "His ring. It's gone. Did they take it off him?" His voice cracked.

Peter felt a stab of irritation with himself. "Oh, damn...no, they didn't." He dove into his pocket and withdrew Jack's ring. "I've got it here. I'm sorry, I meant to give it to you. I had to remove it when I was cleaning his hands. I, uh...I felt strange about putting it back on him. Thought you should do it."

Ennis relaxed a little. He reached out and took the ring, but didn't put it on Jack's finger. He slipped it onto his own instead. "I'll just hold onto it till he's awake," he murmured.

"Ennis, I've called Walter, he's on his way over. He can answer all your questions, and I think he's got some things to discuss with you." Ennis nodded absently, his eyes on Jack again. Peter sighed. "Listen...I know neither of us wants to think about it, but you ought to get a copy of your power of attorney agreement here, in case we need it. It'll have to be attached to any medical procedures you authorize for Jack before they're performed, and we don't want to have to waste time getting it."

Ennis turned an alarmed face to Peter. "Y'think it'll come to that?"

"I honestly don't know. I hope not. But if the worst happens..."

"Y'mean if he never wakes up and turns into a vegetable you'll need some piece 'o paper sayin' that I'm the one's gotta decide whether or not t'let him die!" Ennis exclaimed, his face crumpling. "Aw, sweet Jesus," he said, a brief sob getting past him. He let Jack's hand fall to the bed and his head dropped to rest on their twined fingers. Peter saw him take a few deep breaths and get himself together. He straightened up, released Jack's hand and sat back. "I'll have Marianne get the paperwork," he said, dully. "Best t'be prepared."

The nurse poked her head in. "Doctor, the sheriff's here."

Ennis sighed and stood up. He looked down at Jack, and then to Peter's surprise, he bent and kissed Jack's forehead. "I'll be back, rodeo," he murmured.

Walter was in the lounge by the nurse's station. Marianne got up, her face anxious, as Ennis approached. "How is he?" she asked.

"Asleep. Would you go on in and sit with him? I don't want him t'be alone, if he wakes up."

"Sure," she said, nodding. She disappeared around the corner.

Ennis joined Walter in the lounge. "Ennis," the sheriff said, standing to shake his hand. "I sure hope Jack's all right."

"Me too, Walter. What can you tell me?"

"Well..." He shifted, looking a little uncomfortable. "After your barn incident, I decided I'd best keep myself abreast of what this Forrester's up to, so I got one of my deputies to act like he was of the same mind and join his little church."

"That's fast work. Ain't hardly been two weeks since the fair."

"Well, it wasn't hard for him t'get on the inside. Forrester's real anxious to build up a big group. So far it ain't more'n twenty people, thank God." He hesitated again. "Forrester's picked you and Jack as his Public Enemy #1, it seems."

"Damn, what a surprise," Ennis said, flatly.

"Couple of days ago, my deputy told me that he was planning some kind of...action."

Ennis just stared at him. "Walter, are you tellin' me that you knew this was gonna happen?" He took a step closer. "You knew they was plannin' t'hurt Jack and you did nothin' t'stop it? I sure's hell hope you ain't tellin' me that, 'cause I like you and I'd hate t'have harsh words with you."

Walter met his eyes. "I knew they were planning it. But Ennis...they were planning to come after you, not Jack. I knew you were both out of town, so I waited to see what Forrester would do next. When Fred Trimble told me Jack was back in town alone, I wasn't overly concerned because it was you they were aiming for." Ennis's head was spinning with new and improved varieties of guilt. As if it weren't bad enough that Jack had been attacked while alone, the attack had been meant for Ennis. "I asked Fred to keep an eye on Jack, just casually, and let me know if any of Forrester's little friends came around looking for you." He sighed. "I guess they got tired of waiting for you to show up."

"But...if you know this was planned, then..."

Walter rubbed his forehead, looking even more uncomfortable. "I tried, Ennis, but the DA won't issue an arrest warrant for Forrester. Not enough evidence. My deputy never actually heard him tell his boys anything, he just heard things from them. And now all the boys are saying that Forrester never told them to do anything. I can try to get one of them to roll on Forrester, but I don't hold out much hope for it."

Ennis opened his mouth to speak, but perhaps fortunately for Walter, at that moment Fred Trimble came into the lounge, looking relieved to find Ennis there. "Ennis," he said, coming forward, his hand held out. Ennis pushed Fred's hand aside and hugged him, feeling Fred jump a little in surprise. Ennis was not the hugging sort, as a general rule.

"Thank you," Ennis said, drawing back and seizing Fred by the shoulders. "You mighta saved Jack's life, Fred."

"I was supposed to keep an eye on him," Fred said, his eyes downcast. "I tried to stay with him but he left while I was getting my coat..."

"You pulled them boys offa him, and I ain't never gonna forget it, y'hear?" Fred nodded, looking a little reassured. "Now. Sheriff here was just tellin' me that our friend Forrester is gonna get off scot free even though we all know he put my man in the hospital. Did I leave anything out, Walter?"

The sheriff sighed in exasperation. "I don't like it any more than you do, but I can't prove that he did anything unless I can get his boys to talk."

Ennis held up a finger. "Walter, I swear to you, if you don't see that man punished for what he done, I'll..."

Walter put his hand up. "I understand how you feel, but if you're thinking about taking the law into your own hands, I can't hear about it. I will do everything I can, okay? This isn't over yet, not by a long shot." His radio crackled with unintelligble squawkings, and he moved to the corner to talk into it.

Fred stepped around Ennis, his back to Walter, and fixed his gaze steadily over Ennis's shoulder. He spoke with tight lips, his voice low and meant for only Ennis's ears. "Me and Gus, Grant Linebeck and Rod Borrickson, we got a group all ready to go," he said, barely moving his mouth, his expression placid. Ennis didn't look at him. "He isn't gonna get away with it. You can come if you want but it'd be best if you were seen here. We'll go on over there and take care of business. He won't trouble you again."

Ennis shook his head slightly. "No. You ain't takin' no posse nowhere, Fred. I appreciate the gesture, but I don't want none 'o you gettin' in no trouble." He sighed. "Jack wouldn't want that."

"We can't just let it slide. Who's next? I don't want that man's poison in my town."

"We ain't gonna let it slide." Ennis smiled, a grim little smile. "I got a better idea."

"Ennis!" they heard Marianne call from down the hallway. "Pete!"

Ennis and Fred rushed out of the lounge and into Jack's room. Peter pushed his way to Jack's side, Ennis taking Marianne's place in the chair next to the bed. He leaned over Jack, who still looked asleep...but his head had moved. "What happened?" Peter said, his fingers to Jack's wrist.

"He, uh...he moved a little. And I think he said something." She touched Ennis's arm. "I think he said your name."

Ennis took Jack's hand again, searching his face for any sign that he might be waking up. "Jack?" he said, quietly. "C'n y'hear me, bud? C'mon, say somethin'. Open your eyes, now, you done slept enough."

Jack's hand twitched in his, and his head moved a little. Ennis heard Marianne suck in a breath. He was holding his own breath, watching intently and squeezing Jack's hand so he'd know he was there. "Jack?" Peter said.

Jack took a deep breath and let it out. Ennis could see his eyes moving behind his eyelids, and then his eyelids creaked open just a sliver. "Ennis?" he croaked.

Ennis had to bite his lip to keep from letting out a whoop. "I'm right here," he said, leaning closer.

Jack blinked a few times, then looked around groggily. "Am I dead?"

Ennis chuckled. "Naw, you ain't dead, hoss. You're in the hospital."

"Do you remember what happened?" Peter asked him, leaning over to look at Jack's eyes.

"I remember them sons 'o bitches jumpin' me." He tried to lift his head, then winced, his hand lifting to his head. "Christ, what'd they do?"

"Gotcha in the head there," Ennis said. "You been sleepin' all day."

Peter was adjusting the bed so Jack's head was elevated a little. "Jack, look at me." He complied, and Peter flashed his little penlight in his eyes. "Okay, now follow my finger." Jack did as he was told. "Do you feel dizzy? Sick to your stomach?"

"Uh..." Jack frowned. "No to both, I think. Feel pretty fuzzy, though."

"Do you know your name?"

"John Henry Twist, Jr."

Peter looked across at Ennis. "He seems fine. But I want to keep him overnight."

Jack sagged. "Aw, c'mon, Pete. I wanna go home."

"You hush up," Ennis said. "Listen to the doc."

Jack was looking around, his gaze a little distracted. "Head hurts."

"I'll have the nurse bring you some painkillers. The good stuff." He patted Jack's leg. "Glad to see you awake, Jack. I'll be back to check on you in a bit." He withdrew, Fred and Marianne following him, leaving Ennis alone with him.

Jack turned his head and let his gaze rest on Ennis's face. Ennis laid his hand on Jack's neck and stroked his thumb across his cheek, smiling. "There's my handsome fella," he murmured.

Jack frowned. "Hey. Why're you here, anyway?"

Ennis leaned closer, letting his hands rest on Jack's arm. He looked down at him, so relieved that he'd woken up and appeared undamaged that he felt a little dizzy. His mind had been busily making him imagine life without Jack, and it was a bleak prospect. Jack was the only person he'd ever really loved, and it had been hard enough to live without him during their fishing years, let alone if the separation were permanent. "I told Dave Tomlinson a bit 'o what was troublin' me, and he jus' had a way of puttin' it...well, it knocked some sense into me, and this morning I set out for home fast as I could. When I got here, Marianne told me what happened."

Jack looked up at him, his eyes welling up. "I've had a real bad coupla weeks, Ennis," he said, the tears spilling over and running across his face to wet the pillow.

Ennis nodded. "I know you have."

Jack's voice was shaky, like a scared child, his mind not yet awake enough to throw up all his defenses. "Please don' leave me again," he whispered.

"Oh, God," Ennis choked out, that monstrous guilt poking up its head and reminding him that it wasn't going away. He smoothed Jack's tousled hair back from his forehead, leaving his hand resting there. "I ain't never leavin' you again, rodeo. Y'hear me? Never." He shook his head, feeling his own eyes mist over. "I'm so sorry, Jack. I shouldn'a lef' you at the cabin. I shoulda stuck around 'n talked about it, but I was just so...I didn't know what t'do, I was all twisted up."

"I'm sorry 'bout Lureen," Jack said. "I cain't even tell you how much." He was crying openly now, and Ennis felt himself wanting to join in.

"Christ," Ennis managed. "It don't hardly matter no more." Jack reached out and touched Ennis's shirt. Ennis grasped his hand in both of his own and pressed it to his mouth, saying nothing, his eyes tight shut.

A few long moments passed in silence. Jack calmed himself, and Ennis just sent up thanks to whoever might be listening that he was okay. "Hey," Jack said.

"Hmm?"

"You're wearin' my ring, cowboy."

"Oh...yeah. Doc had t'take it offa you." He slipped it off his own finger and slid it back onto Jack's, seeing him wince a little as it passed over his raw knuckles.

"That's better," Jack said, looking down at his hand.

Ennis sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. "Well...you mind if Marianne sits with you for a spell?"

"Sick 'o me already?"

Ennis chuckled. "Never. Naw, I jus' got some...well, some calls t'make and some folks t'see."

Jack frowned. "That sounds serious."

"Don't you worry none."

"Well, go ahead, then. I'm gonna be pretty dull company anyway."

Ennis hesitated. "I feel bad, though. Here I jus' said I ain't never leavin' you again, and now..."

"Well, I sure as hell hope you didn't mean never never leavin' me, 'cause I do enjoy some privacy when I'm takin' a crap. Go on, Ennis, I ain't gonna get separation anxiety if you're gone for a coupla hours."

Ennis stood up. "Okay, then. I'll be back later." He bent over and kissed him. He intended it to be a quick goodbye kiss, but Jack seemed to have other plans. He slid his hand up around Ennis's neck and held him there, and soon enough Ennis found himself really kissing him, and having to brace his hands on the bedrails so he didn't collapse on top of him. When Jack finally let him pull back, he felt a little weak in the knees. "Damn," he breathed.

"Just a reminder 'o why you keep me around."

"That ain't why I keep you around."

"Why, then?"

Ennis fixed him with a stern look. "Because I love you, asshole. As you damned well know."

Jack sighed. "You best be careful. You've said that three times in as many weeks. I'm gonna get spoiled."

"You go ahead 'n get spoiled. I'm startin' t'see why you like them words so much."

"Feels nice t'say 'em, don't it?"

"That ain't the best part."

"What's that?"

"Seein' your face when you hear 'em." Ennis squeezed Jack's hand and left the room, reluctantly, and headed back to the lounge near the nurses' station. Marianne and Fred were still there, but the sheriff was nowhere in sight. "Marianne, could..." he began, but she was already up and on her way to Jack's room.

Fred got up. "Walter's gone, Ennis. Now, you wanna tell me what we're gonna do?"

"What time is it?"

"Two thirty."

"That oughta work. We gotta take care of a few things before end 'o business today. I wanna do this tomorrow morning. At his restaurant, before they open."

"Do...what, exactly?"

"You'll see."

The next morning, Ennis was at the hospital just after eight. He'd returned there after his business was done the night before, intending to stay all night, but Jack had insisted he go home and get a decent night's sleep. He had agreed, under protest.

He hadn't, however, gotten a decent night's sleep, in fact he hadn't slept a wink. He'd spent the night thinking. About his plans for Forrester, and about Jack, and about himself. Even in the years they'd been living here, he'd held back. Not a lot, but enough. He'd resisted the terms people applied to him, and to them. He'd cringed when people referred to them as a couple among strangers. He'd probably hurt Jack's feelings innumerable times by backing off from his most innocent public gesture or comment. He'd been waiting, always waiting, for the condemnation from on high, for the public backlash, for the tire irons to swing. And now they had, despite his caution. So what had he gained? Nothing. It was too late to go back. He was just as stuck in his life with Jack as he had once been in his life with Alma, the only difference being that he was glad to be stuck. So what to do? Restrict his relationship with Jack to the safe walls of their own home, and treat him like a colleague out in public? That hadn't worked.

There was only one thing to do.

Jack was sitting up in bed, eating breakfast. "Hey!" he said, smiling as Ennis entered. The nurse was taking his blood pressure.

"Mornin', darlin'," Ennis said. He saw Jack blink in surprise, no doubt at the fact that Ennis had called him that in front of the nurse. Ennis went around to the side of the bed, leaned down and kissed Jack's cheek. Now Jack was in a full-on mouth-open state of surprise. Ennis looked at the nurse, who was barely suppressing a smile. "How is he?" he asked her.

"Ship-shape," she answered. "Did you get a look at this?" she asked, turning Jack's head toward Ennis. The bandage had been taken off, and Ennis could see the angry red weal left by the two-by-four and the purple bruise that spread out from it, reaching almost to Jack's left eye and up across his temple to his hairline.

Ennis winced. "Hurt much?"

Jack shrugged. "Whatever they got me on, I like it." The nurse left and Ennis sat down.

"Didja sleep okay?"

"They gave me somethin' for that, too. Drugs are my friends, I guess."

Ennis took a breath, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Jack, I been thinkin'."

"Didn't I tell you t'cut that out? That's how trouble starts."

"I want a ring."

Jack blinked. "What'd you say?" he asked, slowly.

"I want a ring. You've got one, I want one, too." Ennis met Jack's eyes. He was looking back at him steadily, a small smile on his face. "So let's go see Myron 'n tell him that we want him t'make me one."

Jack sighed and looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. "Ennis," he said, his voice steady and low, a serene half-smile on his face. "In my desk at home, in the upper left-hand drawer, way at the back, is a little black bag. Inside that bag is a ring exactly like this one, in your size."

Ennis gaped at him. "How...what..." he stammered.

"I had Myron make one to match mine."

"When?"

Jack met his eyes. "'Bout a week after you gave it to me." His smile broadened at Ennis's shock. "I jus' been waitin' for you t'want it. And I knew that someday, you would."

Ennis was speechless. The strength of Jack's faith in him, and in them, shamed and humbled him to the point that he wondered if he'd ever be good enough to deserve it. He lowered his head and shut his eyes, resting his forehead against his interlaced fingers. "Jack, I swear..." He trailed off, uncertain what it was he meant to say.

"What?" Jack said. "What do you swear?"

Ennis raised his head and met his husband's eyes. "To live it with you."

Jack sighed. "Good. It's about damned time."

They sat there in the morning sunlight, looking at each other, for a few peaceful moments. Too few for Ennis's taste, but he had things to take care of. "And now, I'm afraid I got something I gotta do. But I'll be back soon, then we'll get you outta here." He stood up.

Jack looked up at him, a worried look on his face. "Ennis...you ain't gonna..."

"I'm gonna take care of it, Jack."

"Now, wait jus' a second...you said you'd never leave me again, 'n that includes goin' t'prison!"

"I ain't goin' t'prison. I'll tell you all 'bout it when I get back. Jus' trust me, okay?" Jack nodded, the worried look still on his face, and Ennis left the hospital, his face turning stony as he went to his truck.

According to his information, the only people who ought to be at Forrester's restaurant at this hour were a few prep cooks, the hostess and Forrester himself, who'd be in his office behind the dining room. A few fifty-dollar bills across the palms of the prep cooks had guaranteed their absence. Ennis had it all worked out how he'd get the hostess out of the dining room quickly and silently, but it didn't matter. When he walked in, she took one look at him and practically sprinted out the door.

Ennis stood there quietly for a moment, psyching himself up. He was about to face this man, and he had to make damn sure he kept calm and didn't lose his cool. He was also about to string more words together in a row than he probably had his entire life. He'd spent most of the previous night rehearsing it in his head. He just hoped he didn't start stammering, he'd look like a damn fool and that would seriously undermine the impact.

He walked to the man's office. The door was open; Ennis peered around the doorframe. Forrester was standing with his back to the door, filing something. Perfect.

Ennis entered and silently shut the door behind him, turning the deadbolt. Forrester didn't appear to have heard him enter. He took the shotgun off his shoulder and racked the slide, the extremely satisfying click-CLACK of its action bringing a grim little smile to his face. Forrester jumped and whirled around, conditioned, as most moviegoing Americans were, to regard that noise as a precursor to certain death.

Forrester saw who it was and his lip curled. He was pressing himself back against the filing cabinet, as if that would help. "Del Mar," he spat. "I might've known. What, you come here to kill me? Then you'll go to prison. Maybe that's what you want...all those convicts turning queer out of desperation."

"I ain't here t'kill you," Ennis said. He took a step closer, holding the shotgun in front of him. "Naw, I cain't go t'prison. I got responsibilities. But know this...if Jack had died, your guts'd already be splattered all over that wall. Him dead, and I wouldn't care what happened t'me. Glad t'say that ain't the case."

"What then? Beat me up? Work me over, or however you put it?"

Ennis shook his head. "Is that the only thing you understand? Violence? Some fists and a two-by-four?" He sighed. "That's jus' sad. I used t'be like that, y'know. I'd throw down at the drop of a hat. But see, mos' men, we grow outta that shit when we get our heads together. I guess you got a ways t'go."

Forrester, perceiving that Ennis meant no violence, sat down in his office chair. "Then I have nothing to say to you, except that you are trespassing and if you don't leave I'll call the sheriff."

"Go ahead. By the time he gets here, I'll have said m'piece anyway."

"I'm not responsible for your...friend's...injuries."

"'O course you are. We just cain't prove it. It is funny, though. If'n you're doin' God's good works by trouncing all us fags, I'd think you'd be proud. I'd think you'd want t'own up. I guess you ain't too keen on that whole 'blessed is he who is persecuted for righteousness' thing."

"I've done nothing illegal."

"Good 't know. In that case, Mr. Forrester, you just go on about your business. It's a free country, and we're a tolerant bunch. You go on ahead 'n have your little church meetings. You're free t'think what you like, 'n you're free t'say what you like." He paused for effect. "'O course, you'll have t'find a new place t'live."

Forrester frowned. "What?"

Ennis pulled a bundle of envelopes out of his pocket. "Few folks asked me t'deliver these here notices to you, seein' as I was stoppin' by. Look here!" he said, holding up one of the envelopes. "This one's from the First Bank 'O Vermont. I'm guessin' it's t'let y'know that the bank's recallin' your home loan. Seems they found out about your two bankrupt businesses back in Kansas."

"They can't do that! They can't..."

"You ain't the only one with rights. They c'n give their money to whom they see fit, and they don't see fit t'give it t'you. Oh, wait...here's another one." Ennis opened the envelope, shaking his head and making tsk-tsk noises. "Aw, that's too bad. Looks like the county revoked your liquor license. That's what, fifty percent of this place's profit? Oh, and you're also gonna have t'find a new place t'have your little hate-monger meetins', 'cause you've violatin' several city codes by having more'n seven cars parked at a residence more 'n once a month. It's a hefty fine, too."

Forrester was now purple, and shaking with rage. "You can't do this to me. I am a law-abiding citizen, and I have rights!"

"I'm a law-abidin' citizen too. And who says I'm doin' anythin'? Seems like it's the bank, the county board, and the city council you got a problem with." He smiled. "'O course, the fact that the loan officer at your bank, two 'o the county supervisors 'n jus' about all the city councillors are good friends of ours, that's irrelevant. Each one 'o these actions is perfectly legal and legitimate." He took another step closer and fixed the man with the most serious glare he could muster. "You think on it, you son of a bitch. You c'n stay here, and no one c'n stop you. But we c'n make life real uncomfortable for you, 'n make no mistake. We will. We don't want you here, so you gotta ask yourself if it's worth it." Forrester said nothing. "Nothin' t'say? No retorts? Gimme somethin', Stan. I ain't used t'talking like this. I practiced this speech all night. Leas' you could do is say somethin'."

"You...you goddamned faggot."

Ennis heaved a sad sigh. "Always seems t'come back t'that, don't it? Well, I guess we're done here. You jus' think on what I said. Folks in this town're decent, and they're our friends. We c'n make your life miserable and there ain't no one who'll defend you. You might think on this, too...the reason I c'n do this is because when I came here, I made friends 'stead 'o enemies." He laid the shotgun on the desk and leaned forward. Forrester leaned back. "Now, you piece of shit. I'd like you t'thank me for not doin' what I so badly wanna do, which is beat you to a bloody pulp 'n hurt you till you beg for Jack's forgiveness." Forrester just stared at him. "Go on. Say thank you."

"Uh...thank you."

"Good. I always thought you was just a spineless weasel under all that bluster. S'nice t'be right." He straightened up and slung the shotgun across his shoulder again. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I got things t'do. I'm gonna go to the hospital and take my husband home. Then you know what I'm gonna do?" Forrester shook his head, still mute. "I'm gonna have a whole bunch 'o sex with him. Y'know why? 'Cause I love him, 'n there ain't nothin' you c'n do about it." He opened the door. "You have a nice day, now."

"You and your kind will rot in hell," Forrester barked.

Ennis nodded. "Well, if you're goin' t'heaven, then I don't wanna be there." He slammed the door behind him as he left, smiling, the empty shotgun in the crook of his elbow.