- Deeper Than Skin III -

The days passed in relative monotony. Jack's rodeo prowess was soon discovered by Tom Braxton—largely due to the fact that Jack took every opportunity presented to him to brag—and Jack was asked if he would be willing to help break some of the newer horses to saddle. Bored with the uneventful stable work, Jack agreed with bright eyes and a broad smile. Not long after, Braxton took note of Ennis's gentle way with the horses, and offered him a position that would eventually earn him the nickname "Horse Whisperer"; Ennis shrugged in response to Tom's offer and gave an emotionless "Sure." Jack found endless amusement in calling Ennis by his new nickname, mostly because he knew how much it annoyed the man. Jack knew there was no real threat behind Ennis's promises to strangle him if he didn't shut his trap.

It was Jack who first suggested they go out for a drink; Ennis wasn't really surprised when they found themselves at a motel instead of a bar. They were very nearly late for work the next morning, though they "went out for drinks" whenever they could.

Week after unremarkable week passed, until Jack realized he hadn't been to a rodeo in a very long time, and decided to find out just how long it had been. Not just weeks, but months… It made Jack a little antsy. He wasn't sure how to tell Ennis that he was just about ready to leave Tom Braxton's ranch, since Ennis was getting on so well. It was fair, Jack told himself, for him to want to drag Ennis around to all kinds of rodeos when they both had work here. So he forced himself to be happy here on the ranch. It didn't work as well as he'd hoped it would.

Ennis was leaving the tack room one afternoon when the sound of a scuffle drew him farther into the stable. He wasn't really surprised to find Jack at the center of it, being laid into by three other men. He was doing well enough for himself, but Ennis waded into the fight nonetheless and grabbed Jack by the back of his shirt collar and shoved him away from the other three. Ennis stepped away to avoid a flying fist—he wasn't sure if it was Jack's or one of the other's—and said calmly, "I think that's enough of that."

"Ennis," Jack growled, advancing. Ennis held a hand out towards him, though his eyes remained fixed on the three men.

"There a problem, boys?" Ennis asked, praying Jack was smart enough to stay where he was and, most of all, stay quiet. No one answered. "Well, if there ain't a problem, why were you all tryin' to beat up my friend here?"

"Ennis, leave it be," Jack snarled. "I c'n handle this m'self—"

Ennis chose to ignore him, still looking expectantly at the three standing shamefaced but still angry in front of him. "If ya ain't got nothin' to say, get outta my sight 'fore I report you to Tom Braxton." They fled, and Ennis turned his expectant look to Jack. "Well?" he demanded.

"I coulda beat them."

"I'm sure you coulda, but I kinda like your face the way it is, and they mighta rearranged it some."

"I don't need you protectin' me! I can take care a myself just fine."

"I know that, Jack, but…you don't have to. Hell, someone's gotta make sure you don't get yourself killed; might as well be me." He shifted a little uncomfortably, acutely aware of the new look in Jack's eyes, and asked, "So, what'd you do t' make 'em wanna beat you so bad?"

The look in Jack's eyes was replaced again by anger, which was what Ennis had half hoped for. "I didn't do nothin'! They started it!"

"Alright, then, what'd they say to make you angry enough to cost yourself this job?"

Jack ground his teeth together, his eyes burning with barely-suppressed rage. He looked down at the ground and slowly loosened his fingers from the fists they'd been curled into. "Doesn't matter no more."

"It does too, Jack. You know you can tell me—you sure as hell've told me everythin' else. We gotta be able to trust each other—"

Jack looked up sharply, his eyes stormy. "Then why can't you trust me that it don't matter what they said!"

Ennis blinked in surprise. Damn, they musta said somethin' that struck him deep. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, then tried to smile. "All right, Jack. I trust you. Don't matter what they said, an' I won't bother you 'bout it. Just promise that you won't get into any more fights, alright?"

Jack smiled a little, his relief obvious. "I'll do my best," he said noncommittally, pulling his hat off his head and running his fingers back through his hair. "Listen, Ennis, I been thinkin'…"

"Told you before, you shouldn't do that. You might hurt yourself."

The familiar mischievous gleam entered Jack's eyes, and he threw out a cheerful, "Fuck you," before continuing more seriously, "I think it's 'bout time we moved on somewhere else…I need to rodeo a few times, you know, an' then I'll be good for ranch again…"

Ennis smiled slightly. "Yeah, I know. Alright, Jack, if that's what you want, we can leave. Do you need to be gone tonight, or can we sleep here an' leave in the mornin'?"

"Mornin's fine," Jack said, cheerfully surprised that Ennis was so willing to go along with the sudden change.


Tom Braxton begged and pleaded, but nothing he said could persuade the two men to stay. Eventually, resigned, he dropped back into his chair and told them they could come back and work for him any time. Jack thanked him for the kind offer, and led Ennis from the office.

They drove around aimlessly for a while, until Jack got word of a rodeo and drove off to it as fast as he could. Ennis gave him a mumbled "Good luck" before going to find a seat in the already-packed stands.

Jack's ride would have to be very good if he had any hope of winning, and Ennis hoped he could do it. Sulky wasn't a mood he liked in Jack.

His ears pricked up when he heard Jack's name called, and he moved to the edge of his seat, craning his neck to get a better look into the ring. The gate flew open, and the bull came out bucking, Jack clinging to its back like a helpless little fly. The crowd shouted and so did Jack, whooping like a fool; without realizing he was doing it, Ennis moved his lips in a silent prayer to any god that might deign to listen to him.

Ennis didn't bother to keep time; even the shortest of rides would have been far too long for Ennis's comfort, and by the time Jack was finally thrown, Ennis was ready to scream. As Jack tumbled off the bull's back, Ennis very nearly jumped to his feet with some half-realized notion of going to Jack's aid, but forced himself to sit back down as the bull veered toward one of the rodeo clowns and Jack scrambled to his feet, grinning from ear to ear. The announcer was shouting something, which the crowd responded to with a wild cheer; all Ennis could hear was the rapid thundering of his heart against his ribs. He finally convinced himself to get up and made his way from the stands, and found Jack dunking his head in a water trough. He emerged dripping and grinning when he saw Ennis, and gave the man an enormous back-slapping embrace which Ennis returned a little uncomfortably. Jack took a quick step away when he noticed Ennis's tenseness, but the grin showed no sign of fading. "I tell ya, boy, it's in the bag, got this one whipped good. Really good money prize, from what I've heard…"

Jack's smile was infectious. "Yeah, you did real good, Jack. Better'n anyone else out there."

Preening under the praise, Jack led Ennis back into the stands to watch the competition. As predicted, Jack took first and, after collecting his winnings, easily gave in to Ennis's demand for good, strong beer. They got drunk enough that they barely managed to stumble their way to a motel, but not quite drunk enough to not keep celebrating long into the night.

It may have been that Jack wasn't thinking very clearly, what with the headache pounding behind his eyes, but as they set off down the road for the day, he gave voice to an idea that had slowly and silently been fermenting inside his brain: "Somethin' I been thinkin' about—"

Ennis smirked. "Seems you're doin' a lot a that. It's got me a little worried."

Jack reached over to shove him playfully, and Ennis simply smiled. "We got us some money saved up now, an' I'm thinkin' it's about time we put that money to some good use."

"Whattya got in mind?" Ennis asked a little warily.

Jack's eyes were bright as he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm thinkin' we buy a ranch, just you an' me. Raise horses, maybe, or…well, it don't really matter what."

Ennis was frowning, his forehead deeply lined. Jack began to worry as Ennis's silence stretched on, his own brow creasing as he glanced often away from the road to study Ennis's still profile. Ennis, who had never been good at judging emotions, was too wrapped up in his own swirling thoughts to notice the hopeful, anxious, crestfallen, look in Jack's eyes.


It wasn't until they were leaving the diner where they had eaten a quick lunch that Ennis broke his silence. He leaned against the hood of the truck, scrubbed a hand over his face, glanced at Jack, and quickly looked away. "So," he mumbled, "I been thinkin'…"

Jack's ears all but perked up, and he leaned towards Ennis, draping both arms over the hood. "Yeah?" he prodded.

"I'm, uh…I think I need to…to go off on my own for a while, you know? There's…some stuff I been meanin' t'do…" He trailed off lamely, refusing to look up to meet Jack's horrified, pained expression. "So…I guess I'm gonna go…" He scuffed his boot on the ground, then determinedly went to the back of the truck and fished out his pack of belongings. He turned away without a backwards glance, leaving Jack staring after him. Feeling as if his chest were being cut open, his heart ripped out and slowly squeezed, Jack stared until tears blurred his vision so badly he couldn't stare anymore.


Mrs. Twist came down to her kitchen and was greatly surprised to find her son sitting at the table. Before she could ask a thing, Jack mumbled, "Got in late last night. Didn't want to wake you."

Mrs. Twist smiled. "And we thank you for that. Ennis here, too?"

Something passed across Jack's face, but was gone before Mrs. Twist could be sure she saw anything at all. "No. We parted ways a few days ago. He…had some stuff to do. I figger on stayin' here for a while, if it's alright…"

"'Course it's alright, Jack. You know your daddy and I are always happy to have you here."

Jack gave a noncommittal mumble and returned to staring morosely at the tabletop, leaving his mother to wonder at this strange mood. She was left wondering, though, as Jack seemed unwilling to disclose any sort of information, and threw himself into any work he could find: helping on his parent's ranch, helping on the neighbors' ranches, doing odd jobs in town…anything, any kind of work that would make him exhausted enough that he could fall into bed at night and not dream…not dream of Ennis's face as he emotionlessly tore Jack's heart out.

Time lost any sort of meaning for Jack. If he'd bothered to keep track, he would have realized he stayed with his parents for nearly half a year. But he threw himself body and mind into his work, leaving no room for the unimportant things like what day of the week it was; or how many days it had been since he'd last seen Ennis, held him, kissed him, made love to him…

Jack had, sometime during his stay at his parent's house, decided the place "looked like a pile of shit" and had set about to single-handedly remedy that. This choice was largely due to the storms that kept him cooped up inside, but there was enough work to be done to keep his mind off the things he didn't want to think about. He was viciously scrubbing the kitchen table to a shine one stormy night when the steady pounding of the rain was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Frowning, Jack looked through the window in the door, but could only make out a dark figure against a dark backdrop. He yanked the door open and demanded, "What?"

Kitchen light bathed the late-night visitor, throwing his pale, gaunt face into sharp and horrifying relief.

"Jack."

Jack's eyes widened, and he took a step back. He would swear later that it was rain blowing in through the door that blurred his vision as he whispered, "Ennis."