Chapter Twenty-Five

Sunday, August 22, 1976

Jack fiddled with the radio dial, but couldn't find anything besides the white drone of static, so he finally gave up and turned it off. He glanced over at Ennis, who had barely said anything since leaving the motel that morning. He understood his nervousness. Now that they were so close to Lightning Flat, he was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea after all. He wanted to talk about it, coming here, but he wasn't sure if Ennis would even respond and, more importantly, he didn't want to talk about it in front of Bobby. He desperately wanted the trip to be a good one for his son. He wasn't worried about his mom. He knew she'd treat him good and probably even spoil him a little, if she got the chance. She was the reason his life had been bearable growing up. If it had been just him and his dad he didn't know if he'd even be here. They'd have either killed each other or he'd have turned out as sour and miserable as John Twist, Sr. He looked at Ennis again, wondering how his daddy was going to react to Ennis. They didn't plan on staying long, so he hoped they could all make it through as quickly and painlessly as possible.

"You nervous?" he asked Ennis, more to break the silence than anything, because he knew the answer.

Ennis sighed deeply and said, "Yeah, a little."

Not long after, they pulled into a narrow dirt road. It lead to a lone house, a tiny brown stucco with a porch stretched across the front. Ennis could see some stock in the distance, could tell they were black baldies, but not their condition. The grass was high in most places, looking like it didn't get mowed. There was a desolation in the place that rose the hairs on the back of Ennis's neck and made his heart ache for the boy-Jack. He glanced at Jack, the man, with a soft look in his eyes.

Jack stopped the car in front of the house. His eyes narrowed as he looked around. He forgot, in between times, how bleak his childhood home was. Living with Lureen, and now Ennis, provided a stark comparison. Sadly, it seemed to get worse every year and there was no sign that it would ever get better. Guilt crept into the back of his throat and perched there like a warty toad.

"This home?"

"Yep."

"Let's go in, Daddy. What're we waitin' for?"

"Yeah, okay, come on then," Jack said, opening his door, just as the door to the house opened and his momma stepped out. He smiled and pulled her into his arms. "Momma, I've missed you." He kissed her cheek and stepped back, a bright-as-sunshine smile still on his face.

His mom kept her hands on his forearms as she took a long look at him. "Jack, it's so good to see you, son. You should come home more often."

"I know, Momma," he said, dropping his gaze, the toad settling back into the throat.

Bobby got out of the car and stood next to it uncertainly.

"This must be my grandson. He's so handsome, just like his daddy."

"Hello, ma'am," Bobby said.

"Oh, honey, I'd be pleased if you'd call me grandma."

"Okay, grandma," Bobby said, as she pulled him into a hug.

Ennis walked around the back of the car, unwilling to intrude and unsure of what to do. Jack's mom looked up as Jack cleared his throat. "Momma, this here's Ennis Del Mar. I told you all about him. Ennis, this is my momma, Grace Twist."

Ennis nodded and said, "'Lo, ma'am, nice t'meet ya."

Grace smiled at him and replied, "It's nice t'meet you, too, Ennis. Come on in now, have some coffee."

They followed her inside and were met with John Twist, seated at the far end of the table. Jack took his hat off, dropped his blue eyes, and nodded. "Hey, Daddy. Nice t'see you." He indicated Bobby, who stood next to him. "This is my son, Bobby, your grandson."

Bobby smiled timidly at his grandfather and said, "Hello, Sir."

John looked him up and down, his sour look softening the tiniest bit, before his eyes moved up to Ennis standing behind Bobby.

"This is my friend, Ennis Del Mar. We own the farm in Minnesota together."

John didn't say anything at first, just fixed Ennis with a look that burned and chilled him at the same time. Finally, he said, "Well, don't just stand there. Sit down. I need t'pull the chairs out for you too?" Ennis and Jack each took a seat, while Bobby stood next to his daddy.

"You want a cup of coffee, don'cha? Piece of cherry cake?" Grace asked from the counter.

"Sure, thanks, Momma."

Ennis smiled at her. "Yes, ma'am, I'll take a cup of coffee, but I can't eat no cake jus' now." Grace poured him a steaming cup of coffee and set it in front of him, resting her hand on his shoulder. She was solemn and calm, with a tired, careworn look about her, as if she was worn out from life. He looked across the table at Jack's father. John Twist looked worn out too, but there was a hardness to him that was absent in his wife and son. He spit some chew into a cup and looked at Ennis with a sour expression on his face. Jack musta been adopted, he thought, 'cause I sure can't imagine him comin' from these two. Jack could be quiet, sometimes, but was rarely solemn and, though he might get irritated or angry, he was never sour.

Grace brought Jack and Bobby each a piece of cake, with coffee for Jack and milk for Bobby.

"You boys are going camping? Where to?" Grace asked.

"Headin' up to Brokeback Mountain for a couple days, at least. Ain't no mountains in Minnesota. We got ta missin' 'em."

"Well, I'm pleased to have Bobby stay here with us for a few days."

"He can ride a horse, can't he? 'Spect him t'help out around here."

"Yes, sir, I can ride real good. Ennis taught me." Bobby glanced at Ennis, warmth in his eyes.

"Now, John, he's just a little boy. You ain't gonna make him work while he's here," Grace said.

John colored slightly, "Didn't say I was gonna work him hard, but he can make the rounds with me. See his grandpa's farm."

The hint of a smile crossed Jack's face. If he's sayin' he's his grandpa, that's a real good sign.

"What happened to your arm, Bobby?" Grace asked.

"I fell off my bike."

"He can't get it wet, Momma. No swimming and he has t'be real careful in the bathtub."

"How's your farm doing?" Grace asked Ennis.

"Hmmp . . . well, it's doin' real good. We breed Quarter and Miniature horses."

"What are miniature horses?" Grace asked.

"They're real little horses. I take care of 'em, mostly," Bobby said, his eyes lighting up. "Next time I come I can bring a picture. Or maybe I can send you one."

"How'd you end up with this farm?" John asked.

"My uncle left it to me when he died a few months ago."

"And how'd Jack end up there?"

"Daddy . . ." Jack started. "I already talked t'you and Momma about this."

"You talked about it, but you didn't really say anything."

"John, why don't you take Bobby out and show him the horses. Make sure to bring in his suitcase from the car when you come back in."

John pushed back his chair with a little more force than necessary. "Come on, then. If you're gonna stay here, you better know where everything is," he said as they went out the door.

Grace glanced at Jack and put her hand on his. "Don't worry, Son. He's getting calmer with age. He's just puttin' on a show for you boys." She patted his hand and looked at Ennis before returning her eyes to Jack. "I wanted to tell you how happy I am for you, Jack. I don't think I've ever seen you look so happy."

"I am, Momma, I am."

"You deserve it, honey."

Jack sniffed and blinked quickly, then stood up. "I gotta get somethin' from my room. Come with me, Ennis?"

"Uh, sure Jack."

He followed Jack up a steep stair. The room was tiny and hot, with a narrow bed against the wall, an ink-stained desk and wooden chair, a b.b. gun in a hand-whittled rack over the bed. The window looked down the long gravel road and he realized that this was the only road Jack knew as a boy. Jack was in the closet, a shallow cavity with a wooden rod braced across with a curtain hanging from it to separate it from the rest of the room.

"Come here, I got somethin' t'show you."

Ennis stepped into the small space with him, just as Jack pulled something out of a small jog in the wall at the back of the closet. Jack held up an old denim shirt, flat against his chest, his eyes dark and luminous in the dimness of the closet, his heart in their blue depths.

Ennis touched the sleeve of the shirt, recognized it as Jack's old shirt from Brokeback days. The dried blood was his, from the last day, when Jack had accidently slammed his nose hard with his knee. Jack had staunched the blood with his sleeve, this sleeve. Ennis felt an extra heaviness in it and saw there was another shirt inside, his own plaid shirt from Brokeback, the sleeves carefully worked down into Jack's sleeves, the pair like two skins, two in one. He pressed his face into the fabric and breathed deep. He looked up into Jack's eyes, unable to breath, unable to move, seeing the love in those eyes. He touched the darkness on the sleeve gently. Jack had taken his shirt. Jack had known, even then. He reached out a trembling hand to Jack's cheek and cupped it, running his thumb over the wet trail of Jack's tears.

Ennis's eyes were shaded, but Jack could see they were full, the brown eyes swimming in tears. "Nearly killed me t'have to leave you. Carried these with me those four years after Brokeback. Slept with 'em most times, 'til I got married. I brought 'em here after we got back together. Knew they'd be safe."

The tears, unable to be contained any longer, fell from the brown eyes. "Oh, darlin'." Ennis bowed his head into the twined sleeves, felt them dry the tears for him. He looked back up and took a step toward Jack, took him in his arms. Ennis met his lips in a soft kiss. "Jack, darlin' . . . I don't know . . . I got no words . . ." he paused, took a deep breath, finished softly, "I love you. So much."

Jack smiled, lighting up the closet like sunshine after a rain, then kissed Ennis with fire. "I love you, too, baby." They stood there, the shirts between them, foreheads together, in each others' arms, wrapped in reverence, until Jack broke away.

"Bobby'll be bringing his suitcase up in a minute."

"You're bringing those with us, ain't you?"

Jack kissed him gently. "Course I am. They belong with us, in our home."

Ennis felt a sharp pain in his heart. He hoped Jack still felt like that after what he had to tell him. Unknown to him, Jack was having similar thoughts.


Beau stripped off his gloves, wiped his arm across his forehead, and watched Tyler latch the paddock gate, then head for the house. They were both at the farm later than usual and Kelly was making them supper. Beau opened the door and saw Kelly sitting on the bench, putting her shoes on.

"Oh, hi, Beau, I have to get going. Mom has the night off and she doesn't want to eat alone. Supper's on the table. If you could just clear the table and rinse the dishes when you're done, I'll do them in the morning."

"Sure thing. Bye," he said to her retreating back. The kitchen, dining area, and living room were empty. Tyler must be washing up. Guess I could stand a good wash myself.

A few minutes later, they sat down together, both cleaner, and ate mostly in silence for a while, making small talk about the weather and the farm. After a while, Beau narrowed his eyes and put down his fork. "You feel like talking, Tyler? Seems like something's really bothering you."

Tyler looked at him from under his lashes, finished chewing, and pushed his plate away. He didn't say anything, so Beau forged on. "Does it have anything to do with you and Ennis?"

"There isn't anything between me and Ennis," he said.

Beau looked at him for a long moment. "It's pretty clear to me that there is something, even if it's not what you want, or don't want, there to be."

Tyler looked up, his eyes wide. "What do you mean, it's clear to you? Do you . . . do you think it's clear to everyone?"

"You mean Jack?"

Tyler nodded, not daring to look away.

"I don't think Jack knows, but he's pretty blinded by love right now. I can see that, too."

"What are you, the great seeing-eye?" Tyler smiled wanly.

"No, but I'm a pretty good at picking up on things, people's behavior, the looks that pass between them, their body language."

"I don't know what to do, Beau. I don't want to hurt Ennis or Jack. I don't know how I got into this mess . . ."

"Can I ask you something? Have you ever had a boyfriend?" Tyler shook his head. "How about just dated someone? Kissed a guy?"

"No, I guess I haven't really dated. In case you haven't noticed, this isn't exactly the gay mecca of the world."

"Yeah. We seem to be all converging at the farm." This got a small smile from Tyler. "You didn't answer my second question, though. Have you ever kissed a guy?"

"Yes, I have." He stood up and gathered up his plate, silverware, and glass and brought them to the sink, turned on the faucet and started rinsing them. Beau followed him and put his plate the counter, then put a hand on each side of Tyler. Tyler's hands stopped moving and he drew in a breath. "What are you doing?"

Beau put his mouth right next to the dark skin of Tyler's neck and said softly, "Can I ask you another question?"

"What?"

"Have you ever been with a guy?"

"That's not really any–"

"I know it's not my business. I'm still asking, though."

Tyler felt Beau's breath on his neck. "No, not really."

Beau's hands left the counter and came to rest on Tyler's hips. "I think you're incredibly sexy," he whispered.

Tyler's heart started pounding. He took a deep breath and could smell the musky scent of Beau, could feel a fluttering in his stomach, and a stirring in his groin. He took another breath, trying to push the feelings away.

Beau pulled Tyler's t-shirt out of his jeans and ran his hands across the hard stomach. Tyler took an involuntary breath in and inadvertently backed into Beau. The stirring in his groin turned to hardness as he felt the stiffness of Beau's arousal pushing against him. He arched his head back as Beau's lips met his neck. Beau pulled him even closer, continuing to explore Tyler's neck with his lips and Tyler's stomach and chest with his hands. Small, deep sounds filled the air around them. When Beau finally stopped, the air was heavy with desire and the sounds of their breathing.

"Turn around."

Tyler turned, his eyes downcast. One hand still on Tyler's hip, he put the other under the bronze chin and raised it to meet his eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

A sparkle came into the dark brown eyes. "I think you already did."

"I mean here." Beau touched a finger to Tyler's lips, his head already moving forward, not waiting for an answer. Their lips met once and Beau drew back, a question in his eyes. Tyler answered it with his lips, meeting Beau's again, their mouths open, tongues seeking their mates. Beau pulled him closer and his own hands went instinctively to Beau's waist. Beau's hands moved up, to his face, to tangle in his hair, then back down and underneath his t-shirt again. He pushed it up Tyler's chest, then moved his hands down Tyler's bare arms, entwining their fingers together when he reached them. They broke apart and dark eyes met light, confusion hiding in the depths of the Tyler's eyes.

"I have to go," Beau whispered and stepped back. "See you tomorrow."

Outside, Beau leaned against the door for a few moments, wondering what had possessed him to do what he'd done. He didn't want to play second fiddle to anyone, but he'd been unable to stop himself, especially once he'd started, until the confusion in Tyler's eyes seemed to bring him back to his senses.

Inside, Tyler collapsed against the counter, feeling dazed. He touched his lips, remembering the way Beau had felt and tasted. Heat came to his cheeks as the thought about what might have happened if Beau hadn't stopped it. He was glad, and maybe a little disappointed, that nothing had happened. He thought of Ennis and was glad he and Beau had gone no further, especially in this house. He looked around, realized the table still needed to be cleared, so he did it, then got in his car and drove home, his thoughts in a turmoil of conflicting emotions.