Childress, Texas

July 18, 2000

Jack was sitting at his desk in his office doing nothing. He'd been doing nothing all morning, unless sitting in front of his computer watching the screen savor words sail across the monitor counted.

Newsome Farm Equipment…Newsome Farm Equipment…

He sighed and leaned back, drumming his fingers on the arm of his computer chair. Well he was here, wasn't he? Isn't that all that could be asked of him? He showed his face and now Lureen couldn't bitch at him and that was that.

Jack stilled his hands, stopped their nervous drumming and shaking, and tried to calm himself down. He closed his eyes, took deep breaths, and tried to picture something soothing. Lureen had told him about this technique her therapist had showed her when she'd been going to counseling outside of town. He'd brushed the idea aside originally, thought he didn't need any stupid techniques to help ease his mind, but in the past few weeks had been putting the practice to good use. His thoughts automatically turned to the mountains, one particular mountain, with one particular person sitting next to him, eyes on fire.

Jack opened his eyes. He felt better, a little. But as soon as the view of his all too familiar office and the dry, flat land of the Texas plains outside his window, the good feeling started to slip away. It never lasted for long. Jack's favorite time of the day was night—then he could dream to his heart's content, and for a few blissful hours, actually believe what he was dreaming was true.

It had been three weeks to the day since the fateful Tuesday where Jack and Ennis had parted. His eye had healed, but for a while he'd had a horrible shiner, big and black and green on the sides, a constant reminder of what had happened, a reminder that drove him to drink more than he had in years.

The past three weeks had been a personal hell for Jack. He didn't know who or where he was half the time. At first, he'd had to fight the temptation to stay in bed all day long, everyday. Lureen would have known something was wrong if he did, she probably knew as it was, but she was too busy with the plans to merge with McGuire Tractor and Farming Inc. (the old bastard had finally been persuaded and now they were on their way to expanding) to say anything to him or even give a damn it seemed.

Lureen had been acting weird recently, though. She was hardly ever home—not like she'd been Suzy Homemaker before—spent most of her time at the office or out wining and dining different business associates. Jack didn't mind, honestly wished her the best in her endeavors and appreciated the peace and quiet. No one to have to talk to, no one to half to explain things to, just him, by himself with his thoughts and regrets. Besides, Lureen never liked him drinking too much, and with her out of the house, doing business everywhere, he had the chance to toss back as much liquor as he wanted, drown himself with the stuff if he so chose, and also to smoke. He'd taken it up again when he'd gotten back from Riverton, decided that you only live once and really gone at it like a chimney. At first, he'd smoked about three packs a day, but eventually he'd calmed down and cut it back to a pack. He wouldn't smoke inside the house, even Lureen would have noticed the smell, so he'd go outside, sit on their back patio, look up at the sky and just suck down the nicotine till his chest hurt. He didn't care. The dry, bitter taste and burn of the tar felt good, was something to dull the pain he felt in his heart.

The first few days back from Riverton were especially horrible. The drive home had been bad, but the closer he got back to Childress the closer he got back to his own life, the life he'd started to think was just a bad dream when he'd been in Wyoming with Ennis. He'd driven, helpless, as the scenery began to change from the wild sweeping mountain landscapes, to red dirt and dessert, to the barren plains of the Texan Pan handle. He'd been numb the whole way, didn't know what to think or what to believe. Wanted to believe that maybe Ennis had just been upset, maybe he'd come around, but as his "home town" for thirty-four years neared, so did the old Jack, the Jack that was hopeless and pathetic and tired and old, and that Jack knew that Ennis would never come around. Knew that man's last words were the final words that would ever grace his ears.

"Sorry I ever met you. Sorry I took ya up ta Brokeback."

Those words had been the end, and then a closed door and a lock clicking. And that was that. Jack's world had completely fallen down around him, he'd felt like screaming and running up to the bathroom door and banging it down and beating Ennis senseless until he took back the things he'd just said. But Jack was powerless to do any of those things. He'd just stood there. He stood there when he heard the shower turn on, and he stood there when it turned off. When the water stopped running, he'd suddenly remembered what Ennis had said about being gone before he was done, and Jack turned and flew to the front door. He'd stopped when he was there, turned around and surveyed Ennis' small house one last time. It was a sad little space. It hadn't seemed that way before—before it had been one of the happiest, most wonderful places he'd ever been, felt like he could have stayed their forever sleeping on Ennis' slightly uncomfortable couch, just for the pleasure of his company and the sight of his face when he got home from work.

He'd narrowed in on the book lying on the floor in front of the couch. Jack had considered leaving it where it was, then thought maybe he'd take it with him. He walked over and picked it up, not liking the weight of it in his hands. He turned it over and stared at its cover for the thousandth time since he'd bought it. He'd known that it was wrong for him to take it. He didn't know why, but it wasn't his anymore. He didn't need the book, he knew it all by heart and he'd somehow come to terms with what it said. He'd known he had to leave it there, time to pass the torch on to someone else. Let Ennis do with it what he pleased, burn it, read it, put it through a wood chipper. He didn't care.

Jack closed the book and set it down on the table near the recliner where Ennis set his keys and sometimes his hat, thought it looked good sitting there. He'd heard more water running from inside the bathroom, and he remembered he had to leave. He gave the house another once over, recalling memories and stories told and laughs shared as his eyes moved from the bathroom to the kitchen table to the living room couch. He'd sighed and finally turned, unlocked the front door and left Ennis' house for good. There was no more he could do, he'd tried his best, given it his all, and the best it'd amounted to was shit. Nothing ever came to his hand the right way.

And then he'd been on the road, driving away from Ennis' door, driving back to his own house, which felt like less of a home than he thought it ever had. He'd pulled over to sleep for a few hours in the middle of the night, needed it since he hadn't slept at all the night before. He set his internal alarm to wake him in two hours so he could finish his journey, get home, and begin to try and forget it ever happened. Once he was still for a mintute, his fatigue had hit him like a ton of bricks. He'd never felt so tired in his life, and he'd never felt so bad. It wasn't until then, the passenger seat leaned back as far as it would go, the quiet of the open land and the dark all around except when a car would come by, headlights blaring, that the tears started. They were quiet, tired tears, tears of a man that's been wounded and left out to die. His tears weren't solely for Ennis; they were an accumulation of everything that had happened and how weak and tired and sick he felt. He wanted to shower and to shave and to sleep in a bed, but he didn't want to go home. He wanted to go anywhere but back to his house in Childress. And what were you if you didn't want to be where you were, and you didn't want to go where you were going? Lost, that's what.

Jack had finally fallen into a trouble sleep, one that was plagued by dreams and a constant need to know what time it was. After a couple hours he'd started the truck again, his internal alarm clock unneeded with his half sleep, and had gotten back on the road. He'd arrived in Childress at eight o'clock the next morning. He'd pulled into his garage and parked at five after.

He dragged himself out of the F-150, nearly forgetting to turn it off, and went inside, leaving his bag in the back of the truck. He'd headed straight to the bathroom and took a short, hot shower, wanted a long one, but was too tired to be able to stand up any longer than five minutes. When he was done he'd put on a pair of boxer shorts and a tee shirt and had gone into the bedroom. He sat on his side of the bed, then had thought twice and decided he should call Lureen. There was a phone on his nightstand, so he picked it up and dialed her office number. The familiar voice of her secretary, Grace-Anne, had answered the phone.

"Newsome Farm Equipment, Lureen Twist's office, how may I help you?"

"Hey Grace-Anne. It's Jack, can I speak to my wife fer a minute?"

"Hey there Jack!" Her voice had immediately taken on its regular flirty tone. Seemed like she hadn't taken the hint last time when Jack had tried to tell her he wasn't interested.

"How're you doin' Grace-Anne?" It was more of a polite greeting than an actually interested comment.

"Oh I'm jest wonderful. It's good ta know yer back in town Jack. When'd ya get in?"

Jack had figured Lureen would go around telling everyone and their brother that he'd left for a while. She'd probably done it to get sympathy. Maybe not. Maybe Jack just had a bitter view of his wife.

"This mornin'. I'm aweful tired, I jest wanted ta tell Lureen that I'm home."

"Well aren't you jest the sweetest thang! One moment. She's on another call, but I'm sure she can take yers fer a minute."

Jack had been put on hold briefly and was reminded of the first time he'd acted on his bizarre fascination with Brokeback Mountain and had called Annie Proulx's agent. Suddenly a voice had come on the line, and it might as well have been Annie's agent, because it was like talking to a stranger.

"Hey there Jack. Heard yer home. Is that all?"

Jack frowned. "'Is that all?' That's what ya have ta say ta yer beloved husband after he returns from his adventures? Not a 'I'm so glad yer home, I can't wait ta get you inta bed?'"

Lureen was quiet for a moment. "Jack I don't have time ta mess around. I'm on another call, and I need to get back to it. Is there somethin' ya need?"

"Jesus Lureen! Can't ya take a fuckin' joke? And no there's nothin' I need, I jest called ta tell ya I'm back. Was tryin' ta be considerate."

"Well thank ya kindly, honey. I'll see ya later tonight. Bye."

There was a click before Jack could get another word in.

"Bye."

He'd set the phone back on the receiver and stared out the window that was across from his side of the bed. He stared out side at the sloping land that his house sat on, stared at the lines of pecan and peach tress that bordered his yard.

When had their marriage come to that? It wasn't anything new, but he didn't remember it being that bad. Jack figured it had taken him leaving, finding something else, someone he had passionate feelings for, to discover how poor their relationship was. It was pathetic, really. Had he been living with this for thirty-four years? Jack had shook his head and laid back, not bothering to get under the covers. He didn't think it had always been bad, seemed like there had been some good times, but they had been infrequent and eventually they had stopped occurring completely. What was he doing? What was he doing in such a stale relationship when he knew that there was so much better, something so incredible he'd never thought it possible?

"Except ya fucked it up with him, and now that ain't happenin' either."

Jack had fallen asleep and this time hadn't dreamt at all.

He was stirred from his thoughts and his memories by a knock at the door. Jack looked up, realized he was still at work and not in his bed after returning from Wyoming. He cleared his throat and tapped his mouse, brought up something that looked like work. He placed his hands on his keyboard, and looked up at the door.

"Come in."

The door opened and then Marty Benson walked in, a big gray hat on his head, unsuccessfully covering his giant ears.

"Hey there, Jack! Was wantin' ta know if ya wanted ta come ta lunch with me n' Bill, n' Sam. We was gonna go out ta the Golden Dragon, thought ya might wanna come along."

Jack stared blankly at Marty. Sure, he might want to go, if he was the type that thought going to the dentist was fun. Jack looked at the little electronic clock that sat next to a picture of his family, and noticed that it was already going on noon.

"Ya know, actually I'm gonna be headin' out a here 'bout now. I'll jest eat somethin' at home, so you guys go right ahead. Thanks fer thinkin' a me, though."

"Sure thing, Jack."

Marty turned around and closed Jack's office door behind him.

"Asshole." Jack muttered.

It wasn't that he didn't like the people that worked there, well no that wasn't quite true, it was just that he didn't want to be friends with any of them. He hadn't met a soul that had any interests other than making more money or who had more personality that a string tie—he hoped that wasn't just the pot calling the kettle black. Jack had tried to like them, to make friends, to live a normal life, but whenever he was around them, all they talked about were stocks, the stock market, Newsome Farm Equipments investments in the stock market, or on some brief occasions, golf or whatever stupid functions their wives were planning. It was dull; it was what he had to live with day to day. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about it in his free time. Jack had dreams; he was a rodeo cowboy, he was reckless, he wanted to spend his time with someone that understood that, understood the rugged life, wanted more than material possessions, someone that had passion about something.

Jack rubbed his tired face with his open palms.

"Jesus, Ennis. I'm so fuckin' alone here. I've always been. I need ya, I need ya with me."

He tried not to think about Ennis for a minute, but it was impossible. Jack sighed and stood up from his desk, turned his computer off, and gathered his things to leave. He walked out of his office, gave Grace-Anne a curt nod, and then walked up to his wife's closed office door. He knocked. No answer. He knocked again. He heard her hushed voice talking on the phone and then a louder 'Bye' and a click.

"Yes?"

Jack opened the door slightly. "Since when ya been closing yer door?"

Lureen gave Jack and innocent look. "I don't know what yer talkin' 'bout. I always have my office door closed."

"Ya do not. It's been a recent development."

"Well, sometimes I jest need some privacy, okay?"

Jack held his hands up in front of him, warding off her anger.

"All right, all right. I was jest wonderin'. Anyway, I'm leavin' now. You gonna be home early today or no?"

Lureen was back typing on her computer, not looking his way.

"Um…I'll be home regular time today. I'll make dinner tonight."

Jack nodded. "Surprise, surprise…"

"Hmmm?" She looked up from her computer.

Jack waved his hand at her. "Never mind. I'll see ya later."

He left her office, left the job he'd never wanted and the marriage he'd grown tired of behind him.

Jack hopped out of the truck and waited for his granddaughter, Eliza to get out and meet him around the front of the F-150. They were in the parking lot of JT's Drive-in, a burger joint that also had the best barbeque in town. Eliza liked to joke that Jack owned the place because of its initials.

It was Thursday and Jack hadn't gone into work (never really needed to) so he could take his joy, his little girl, out to lunch. He hadn't spent much time with her since he'd returned, and he now regretted that, because his time with Eliza was becoming the only time when he could truly forget about Ennis and the empty ache that resonated in his chest every minute of the day. Unfortunately, she couldn't spend the whole day with him, couldn't have a "poppa day" because she had to go to a birthday party that afternoon that was being held at a water park outside of town, and she couldn't be late. That was okay with Jack. Some time trumped no time.

"Let's go. I'm starving." She said when she reached him at the front of his truck.

"You hungry fer some ribs?"

"Ew. No. I hate ribs." She crinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue.

"You hate ribs? What kind of Texan are you?"

"The kind that doesn't like ribs!"

Jack chuckled at this. "Well than what are ya gonna get?"

"A burger and fries!"

Jack clapped her lightly on the back and rubbed her neck affectionately.

"All right. Sounds good. Maybe I'll get the same."

The two walked through the doors and got in line to order. They could have waited in the truck, but Eliza had said that she wanted to go inside, wanted to stretch her legs a little. It was hot as hell out, but she said that the air conditioning bothered her a little, hurt her chest. Jack had nodded, trying not to worry about her too much and agreed that it would be good to stretch their legs a little. Didn't want to get too lazy and accustomed to people bringing food right out to the car.

He ordered Eliza a small kids burger and fries with a strawberry shake, just like she wanted, and got himself a double cheeseburger with onion rings instead of fries and a root beer float. They got their food and then found a picnic table under an overhang where they could sit and relax in the shade. They were quiet while they ate their food. Eventually, Jack leaned back to stretch his stomach, set down his burger, took a sip of his root beer and broke the silence.

"So who's birthday party ya goin to today?"

"Kelley-Anne Patterson. She's the girl that nearly fainted when we were at camp and she saw the snake!"

Jack nodded. "I remember you told me that." He burped quietly and took another bite of his food.

"You good friend with her?"

Eliza was quiet for a minute. "Yeah. She's pretty cool. I don't really like her family, though."

Jack gave her a thoughtful look. He actually knew her father. His name was Leroy Patterson and he sometimes came to play golf with the group that Jack went out with. He didn't know him that well, knew he worked at a car dealership, which is how he knew some of the guys that Jack worked with.

"What's wrong with her family?"

Eliza was pushing her French fries around her burger wrapper, rolling them around in ketchup and mashing them with her fingers. She still had half of her burger left. She didn't answer and Jack figured he would just let it be. He didn't want her to leave her food though.

"Eliza, s'there somethin' wrong with yer burger?"

She shook her head. Her eyes were cast down.

"I'm jest not that hungry. That's all."

Jack frowned. "I thought ya said ya were starvin' a little while ago."

She shrugged. "I was."

Eliza coughed a little, and Jack winced at the sound. Her asthma must have been acting up. He hoped she'd be okay at the water park. He continued eating, and to his surprise, Eliza remained mostly silent. He knew something must be wrong, because usually he couldn't keep her from talking, she was just like him in that regard, at least when he was in good company. Jack frowned. He remembered the last time he'd seen her act like this. It had been when they'd been at the Pizza Hut, the afternoon they'd gone to the library. She'd seemed like something was bothering her, like she'd wanted to tell him something, but hadn't. Jack was tired of her quiet game, and wanted to know what was wrong.

"Eliza. Sweetie, look at me."

She raised her head, and her sad blue eyes pierced Jack's heart. She seemed to be deep in thought.

"What's wrong? Somethin' troubling you?"

She shook her head, but Jack didn't buy it.

"Come on now. Ya can tell me. I wanna know."

She sighed, never took her eyes of his. "Poppa, what's a faggot?"

A cold hand seized Jack's heart and his breath caught in his throat. He adjusted himself in his seat and took another drink of his root beer. Then he leaned forward and lowered his voice, as if others could hear their conversation.

"Now where did ya hear a word like that? That's not a very nice thing ta say."

"I know, I mean, I kinda guessed." She played with her hands. "So what's it mean?"

"This is what's been botherin' you? Did ya hear some kids from the neighborhood sayin' that word?"

Eliza looked down and frowned, confused and obviously a little stricken.

"No. I…I heard Kelly-Anne's dad sayin' it one day when we were at her house."

Jack sat up a little and raised his eyes brows. "And…"

"Poppa, he said it about you."

Ice ran down Jack's spine and he blinked, not sure if he'd heard what his granddaughter said.

"What? What d'ya mean he said it about me?"

"I heard him. Me n' Kelly-Anne were playin' Barbie's in the hallway and her dad was in the kitchen with her mom. I don't know what they were talkin' 'bout, but I remember he called you a faggot. The word sounded nasty, and I didn't like hearing him say something bad about you."

Jack's breathing was becoming labored. He was stunned.

"Could that have jest been a passing comment? Or has he…"

Had he read the book? That was the question that was ricocheting around his skull like stray bullet. He'd never thought about the possibility of someone else reading the story. Of course he knew that there were going to be people that would read it, but he'd never imagined someone from Childress, much less someone he knew, picking it up.

"You did."

So he had. The thought had never crossed his mind. And what did that mean? What now? Suddenly, an image of tire irons raised against the blue of the Texas sky flashed through his mind. He'd never thought it would come to this.

"Poppa? Poppa? Are you okay?"

Jack looked down at his granddaughter, the rest of his food now forgotten. His voice was rough and cracked when he finally got words out.

"Yeah. I'm okay. How long's it been? How long's this been troublin' you?"

Eliza looked a little sheepish. "It happened a couple days before we left for Girl Scout camp. I didn't want ta tell ya. Didn't think it was that important, but it's been bothering me for a long time now."

Jack's eyes widened. A few days before she'd left for Girl Scout camp. That meant that Leroy must have read the book even before he had. That seemed incredibly wrong, Leroy getting some sort of odd insight into Jack's life, when Jack didn't even know that the source existed.

Jack suddenly realized something. He'd gone out golfing on one occasion before he'd left for Riverton, before he'd even gotten the nerve to call Ennis' number. He'd been dragged out against his will as usual, and Leroy had been there. The whole time Leroy hadn't said a word to him, hadn't made eye contact, had downright ignored him. Jack figured that didn't sound like much, but it was really odd for Leroy. He was a fairly friendly sort, usually talked to Jack. He was around Bobby's age, maybe a little older, and they'd talk about the girls, because they both knew they liked to play together. It had mainly been polite small talk, but still. Jack had just assumed that he'd been having a bad day that he hadn't felt like being sociable. But now he remembered that Leroy had talked to the other guys, just…not him.

"He knows then. He must've read the fuckin' book. That fuckin' book."

Jack was so angry. All that book seemed to do was bring him more trouble. He couldn't believe it. He should have known someone else would read it in town. Just, why did it have to be someone he knew?

"Poppa, tell me what the word means."

Jack looked back at his little girl. How could he tell her what it meant? How could he tell her about the ugliness that people had in their hearts, about the ignorance many people had to face everyday? He sighed.

"Don't worry 'bout it, sweetheart. It's nothin' important. Don't' let it bother ya."

Her eyes got darker, colder with anger.

"Tell me! Don't treat me like a little girl! I'm not little anymore! Tell me what it means, I deserve ta know—"

Her voice started to rise and she had a coughing fit. Jack pulled her inhaler out from her little backpack and handed it to her. She grabbed it, took off its cap and then sucked in two puffs. Jack waited patiently while she got her bearings back. He was worried now, about more things than one.

"I don't think ya should go ta yer friends birthday party today."

Eliza looked up. "Why not? I'm fine, and her daddy won't be there anyway. He's off on some business trip."

Lucky for Jack, but maybe unlucky too. Jack thought it might be best to confront Leroy about it, tell him the truth of the matter (partly), before it spread too much, if it hadn't done so already. With him gone he couldn't do that. He'd have to wait until he got back, hopefully he wouldn't lose his nerve by then.

"The water park's probably not the best thing fer yer asthma today."

Eliza shrugged. "It's fine. It's jest bothering me cuz it's so dry out. I think the water might do me some good. Anyway, Mama already said I could."

Jack frowned, wasn't happy about the situation, but figured maybe he was making a bigger deal of it than needed.

"All right. If you say so. Are ya ready ta go?"

Eliza shook her head. "Not until ya tell me what it means."

Jack cringed and looked away.

"Ya have ta know? Can't ya ask yer mom?"

"I want you ta tell me. I can't talk ta mama 'bout things like that, anyway."

Jack bit at his lip and ran his tongue over his teeth.

"All right. Ya see…that word is a very mean word fer men who are homosexual."

Eliza gave him a blank stare. Jack knew she wouldn't understand and hated to have to explain further.

"Fer men who like men."

"What?"

"Ya know how yer daddy and yer mama love each other? Well sometimes there's people like two men or two women that love each other in the same way."

Eliza eyes widened. She was silent for a moment and then she gave Jack a look that nearly broke his heart.

"Are you? Is it true?"

Jack didn't want to lie to her, but the truth was, he wasn't so sure himself. If loving Ennis made him a faggot, then he guessed he was, but…why hadn't he been inclined before? Was it just because he'd never had the opportunity? Never been exposed to that kind of thing? Jack thought for a minute. He could remember some times when he'd still been a young man living on his parents ranch. He remembered there had been a ranch hand that had worked with his dad for a while. He was fairly young and had been good looking. Jack seemed to recall being drawn to his large muscles, recalled watching the way the sweat had clung to his back and dripped from his face. He thought he remembered feeling something when he'd watching the man working outside in the barn or out on horseback, something that made the blood rush to his face and made his dick tingle slightly. He'd never acted on it, he never even really acknowledged it, but Jack still couldn't be sure. There was no good trying to figure it out at the moment, he didn't know, and he decided that he didn't need to be telling his granddaughter about any of this no how.

"No, sweety. Yer friend's dad was probably jest tryin' ta be mean. Sometimes people are like that."

Eliza didn't smile. But her eyes looked slightly relieved—she still had tears brimming at the corners, though. Jack didn't know if she believed him, or if she even understood, but it was all he could do at the moment. He smiled at her, hoping to get something similar from her, for he loved her smile. Loved it like he loved Ennis'. She wasn't obliging though; her eyes had returned back to her food, and she continued to push some French fries around the table.

"Come on, don't get all worked up over this sort a' thing. You don't need ta let yerself worry 'bout me."

"I jest don't understand why he would have said something like that 'bout you. I jest don't get it."

"Some things we can't ever know. We all can't look inside each other's heads and understand what the other is thinking, if that was possible, things would be a lot better all over the place. Unfortunately it's not like that."

Eliza sniffed a little, wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. Jack couldn't bear to see her so upset.

"We should probably get goin'. I don't want ya ta be late fer yer birthday party."

Jack stood and picked up both of their trays, walked over to the trashcan and dumped them, then set the trays on a table near by. When he came back to the table, Eliza was standing with her knapsack of her back, head down kicking around a little stone. She was pretty as a picture, black hair lying softly on her shoulders, her light skin, like porcelain next to her purple tee shirt. Jack felt the need to whisper, to show respect like a priest praying at an altar.

"You ready?"

She looked up and graced Jack with one of her beautiful smiles.

"Yep." One word.

Eliza took his hand as they walked to Jack's truck.

It was the next day and once again Jack had gone into work and left before noon. He hadn't bothered to stop in at Lureen's office, her door had been closed again, and Jack didn't feel like having to interrupt her.

"Don't really care, no how."

He was ready to go home, maybe take a nap and maybe watch some TV. Jack thought a little later he might go for a walk around the land connected to their property in back. There were some great nature trails that had been there for as long as he could remember that he'd never taken advantage of. He decided there was no time like the present.

He got in his truck and left the parking lot heading back to his house. He'd been extremely troubled by what Eliza had told him the day before. He wasn't sure how to take it. He didn't want people reading something that was so personal to him. Didn't like the idea of someone he knew talking about him behind his back and snubbing him because of what had been written in some book. But how were people supposed to know it wasn't true? And just how close had the story come to reality in the past weeks? That was something Jack hadn't thought about. Hadn't the story partially fulfilled itself? Jack swallowed hard. How much more was going to come true?

Jack had been thinking about this hard all night long and he still couldn't shake the feeling. When he'd read the story, he'd been so overwhelmed by the fact that the story was about his life and that it portrayed him as a gay man, that he had kind of pushed away the fact that in the story he'd been killed. It had been too creepy, too much for him to wrap his mind around, especially when he'd been busy trying to wrap his mind around the rest of it. He'd never given it much thought. Not until the day before when his granddaughter had told him what she'd heard.

He didn't know how worried he should be. He didn't know if Leroy had read the story. He could have just been being mean, though Jack had never given him any reason not to like him, and he thought that it was too much of a coincidence. He must have read the book. Would he tell people? Would word get out, and would everyone start looking at him differently on the street, start snubbing him, just because of the book?

"Will I end up dead by the side of the road?"

Jack didn't know. Surely things weren't as bad now. It was 2000 after all…then again, he still heard about all sorts of hate crimes that were committed on the news. It had only been two years since the story of Matthew Shepard had been all over the news telling how he'd been killed for being gay, been beaten and tied to a fence in Wyoming.

None of this seemed fair. Jack hadn't done anything. It was all in the story. At least Brokeback Jack had actually been with Ennis, something Jack thought was possibly worth the trouble. Bring on the storm.

Jack sighed and leaned his head back in his seat. Ennis was like a balm on his troubled mind. He wished above all else he could see him again, would do anything to turn back time and change the way he'd handled things. If only he'd told him from the beginning. Well maybe that wouldn't have been the best idea. Would Ennis have been willing to let him stay in his house and allowed himself to get close and open up if Jack had started out telling him the truth?

"Well then, I wish I hadn't forgotten to take that fuckin' book with me. Then maybe I could have told him easy, kept him from gettin' so angry, kept him from hatin' my guts."

There was nothing more Jack could do now, though. It was over, and Jack would just have to let that be. The thought made Jack's breath catch in his throat, but he was able to calm himself down and keep driving. At least he had some good memories, the best of memories, enough to keep him going for a long time—he hoped.

As Jack was pulling up to his street, he saw the mailman pass him. He figured while he was at the end of the driveway he could check the mail. Most likely bills, but he got out of his truck anyway, opened the mailbox, pulled out the mail which consisted of several envelopes and a couple advertisement magazines. He got back in the truck and pulled into the garage.

After he'd gotten into the house he walked over the kitchen counter and set the stack down, flipped through it briefly—bill, bill, coupons. Not much. He picked it up again to move it to the table in the hallway, where they stacked all their mail for some reason, when something flew out from the pile and landed on the floor. Jack set the stack back on the counter and bent down to pick it up. He stopped when he saw what it was.

It was an 8x4 inch postcard with a picture of a distant snowcapped mountain range. In the foreground there was a field of wild flowers—purple with patches of yellow, just like the field he'd been in with Ennis at the Owl Creek Ranch.

Jack's heart jumped up in his throat. He wasn't sure what it was, but he had a feeling in his stomach, a feeling he couldn't describe, but wasn't bad. He reached out an unsteady hand and picked it up, looked at the picture again and then slowly flipped it over. There was some writing, blue ink, in a slightly messy hand.

Jack,

Taking time off to head up to the Tetons. Leaving on Sunday the 23rd.

Ennis

Jack read the words over and over. He sat down hard on one of the kitchen table chairs. He ran a hand over his face, rubbed at his eyes, and read the card again. Jack thought his heart might explode, it was beating so hard. The words were vague, but he understood. Ennis was asking him to come, had opened the door, knew it was his move, and now Jack had the okay he needed to get his ass back to Wyoming as soon as possible.

"He sent a postcard. Like in the story. He did it on purpose, did it so's I'd know what he meant."

Jack thought he knew, but it seemed too good to be true. He had to get to Wyoming, had to get there by Sunday, screw Leroy and all the people that may know about his "dirty little secret". Jack got up from the kitchen chair and went into his bedroom, getting out his duffel bag to re-pack his things. He was on his way to Ennis, back on the road that led to his door.