Characters come to me from Annie Proulx, and I don't profit from them.

Beta'd by Marakeshsparrow aka Jessymama.

Chapter 8: Mountain Shadows

One thing Jack hated 'bout winter in Wyomin' was that you were always cold. All the damn time. Even when you got warm, it was like the warm didn't last very long-- just long enough so you felt twice as cold next time you went outside.

This winter wasn't any different. It was December now, and the wind was as unforgiving as the back of his daddy's hand. It railed right through him without mercy, not caring that he was already frozen. It was out for blood.

So Jack was mighty pissed when Ennis managed to lock him out of both the RV and the Airstream. Jack'd been checkin' on the tire pressure now that he'd driven two days, rememberin' 'bout Bobby's flat. He'd finished only to find the RV locked, the Airstream locked, an' that left him just where he was now, at Ennis's front door, banging like a banshee and shoutin' curse words that prob'ly wouldn't a made no sense even if you could hear them over the howling gale. Wednesday had broke cold.

"Got a problem here?," The door swung open in Jack's face. "Can't ya handle a little breeze?"

"Fuck you. That ain't no breeze, it's like a... a..." Jack pushed his way past Ennis into the warm interior of Ennis's bleak living space.

"A what?"

"Never mind."

"You know 'bout the weather in California?"

"No, I'm not sure."

"You didn't check the papers or nothin'?"

"Sorry, I had other things on my mind."

"Shit."

"But I think it's warm. They got palm trees, stuff like that, don't they?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"Why, you thinkin' a bringing your speedos?"

"My what?" The joke was totally lost on Ennis.

"Never mind. You 'bout done packin'?" Jack was rubbing his hands to warm them.

Ennis had one small sack a clothes, and a pillow case of some other things-- a too-thin blanket, a too-flat pillow. "Yup. No way ta be prepared seein' as how you didn't give me no notice."

Jack and Ennis each took a bag, Ennis locked the door up tight, and they crossed the cold-as-hell-froze-over space so Ennis could unlock the RV. Jack suppressed the urge to grab the keys back, secure his own warmth in the future.

But Jack was indebted to Ennis. Ennis had been kinda right about Jack's preparation skills. As much work as he had put into this trip, he had been so concerned 'bout gettin' Ennis ta come along with him that he hadn't thought much 'bout the actual trip. Jack had a couple a maps and notes, but Ennis, in his meticulous way, had done one thing 'fore Jack had even woke up. He'd driven all the way to town ta visit a guy who worked on the ranch with him. This guy apparently had a tow dolly for sale, and Ennis had bought it on credit between friends. When Jack'd found out about it an' tried to pay, Ennis insisted that Jack had already paid by oversteppin' his bounds and buttin' 'tween Ennis an' Alma. Jack took that to mean the child support. Jack didn't like the idea of Ennis bein' in debt with someone on his account. He tried to convince Ennis to take the money temporarily and pay Jack back 'ventually, but Ennis had glared at him, and at the last Jack understood that Ennis, much as he probably didn't want ta add to his own debt, didn't wanna be in debt to Jack even worse. Jack left that ta ponder on another day.

The tow dolly was 'cause Jack hadn't done much thinkin' 'bout how they was gonna get around once they got to where they were headed. He could see now he wasn't plannin' on drivin' the RV through cities an' stuff, but Jack just hadn't thought about it. So Ennis had hitched up the tow dolly and hooked his own truck up to it, noting with a satisfied grunt that its absence would support Jack's lie to Ennis's boss that Jack had hired Ennis away, taken him somewhere to sell farm equipment. Jack had told Ennis all the details of that over breakfast. His response had been a calm nod and a "makes sense," adding that he knew the ranch was folding, and in truth he didn't have any real want ta be the last person 'round there. Ennis did admit that he was gonna have some trouble findin' work after the ranch closed, since he didn't have this month head start, but it seemed to Jack that Ennis was dead-hard determined not ta take that frustration out on Jack or lay the blame at his feet. Jack's chest had puffed with pride. Lookin' at the bucket of bolts bein' dragged unwilling behind the RV, Jack just hoped Ennis's truck was as full of that determination as Ennis was himself.

After Ennis unlocked the driver's side, both ready ta leave on the trip for good, there was a moment of confusion before Jack nodded an' went 'round to the passenger side. Ennis was not a distance driver, Jack knew, but he wasn't too bad, could go eight hours or so, 'cause that hardly counted as distance. Jack felt a little sting to his pride, though, bein' a damn good driver himself. It was one a the few things Jack had any right ta be proud of. His driving was easy on the gas tank and the break pads. Never been in no accident. Never so much as got a speeding ticket. Had a habit of showing trucks they could pull a few more mph's than they knew. He knew every last sound his transmission was supposed to make. On top a that, he could drive with his knees if his hands were full, and through the night without falling asleep. But now, not on the road ten minutes, he was fighting a heavy sense a fatigue, like checkin' the tire pressure was a full day's hard labor. He fought it every moment he could, tryin' a muster the energy for a typical one-sided conversation with Ennis, ownin' that much. Instead he dropped into a world of comical shapes and impossible colors, bright events hiding sinister intent. His dreams were troubled like a child's would be.

But even in that unconscious place, he somehow knew that Ennis was right beside him.

Jack was awoken by a gentle shake on his shoulder. "You alright with fast food?" Ennis had his nose wrinkled like a little kid eyein' vegetables, and Jack gathered that fast food weren't one a his favorites. Jack, years on roads and runnin' home after work, with a wife that could cook but didn't want to most nights, had grown accustomed to the greasy laxative taste of McDonald's or Arby's. Lureen preferred Burger King, but Jack thought the fries there were crap.

"Fast food sounds alright." Jack recognized the sleepy edge on his own voice. "How long I been out?"

"'Bout four hours."

The dash clock ticked steady at one thirty seven.

Ennis continued. "There's a exit 'bout a mile down the road, had signs for all kind a places. Right near Evanston."

"We that far already?"

"Yup."

They pulled off the highway and into a McDonald's parking lot. Ennis was still seein' himself as in charge, and that suited Jack fine, still shrouded in a sleepy haze. "How 'bout I bring the food on out? Bet we can make Salt Lake 'fore dark ."

"Sounds good." And it did. "We still gotta find us a RV park when we get there."

Ennis shook his head, but all he said was, "What kinda food you want?"

"Big Mac meal, Diet Coke."

Ennis was half hanging out of the RV when his head snapped up. "You drink that?"

"Save my calories for the stuff that counts, friend." Jack winked at him. He wasn't exactly dieting, but Lureen'd switched to Diet Coke a couple years back, and Jack hadn't been given much choice, so he was pretty used to the artificial flavor. It tasted like everything else in is life: bought fast, full a preservatives, and chemical-laced. Sure, Ennis didn't like fast food. He was used to food from cans. But in the end that weren't no better, really. Still fast, fake, an' made by someone else.

Ten minutes later, double-fisting a Big Mac, mustache smudged with special sauce of the G-rated variety for once, Jack was feeling a lot more like himself. The nap had done him good. He and Ennis rode on for a while, Ennis grumbling at his double cheeseburger while he ate it, but leaving his fries untouched. Ennis had a cup of joe instead of a soda. Jack watched, mesmerized. He'd never got to see Ennis order McDonald's before. He'd had no idea what Ennis would order, though he knew Lureen's preference forwards and backwards. He reckoned he and Ennis were bound to learn an awful lot about livin' in the real world with each other in the weeks to come, and the thought filled him up. He thought maybe he was soarin' down the highway 'stead a sittin' in the passenger seat.

"So," Ennis cleared his throat with some hesitation. "You, uh, why don' you tell me what your doctor said, huh?" Ennis spared Jack a squintin' glance before darting back to the blinking yellow line beneath a clear winterblue sky.

Jack was 'bout as unthrilled as could be to have this thought imposin' on his perfect ride. There was just a dusting of snow, enough to catch in protected, shady spots and North-facing hills. Jack hoped wherever they were that they'd see a white Christmas. He heaved a big ol' sigh. He would have utterly ignored Ennis if Jack didn't have an inkling that this had been bothering Ennis for probably the four hours he'd driven, and maybe the good portion of the night that he'd sat awake as well. "I swear to God, Ennis, I'm fine."

"Yeah, that a direct quote from your doc?" Threats and fears mingling in Ennis's tone.

"Yeah, well, maybe not exactly."

"Uh huh."

"Look, Ennis, can we just talk about this some other time?"

"Yeah, when?"

"Well, first of all, maybe when you're in a calmer mood. I swear to God you got a temper when you want to--"

"Not like you, huh?"

Jack sighed hard, swallowing the sound in Diet Coke. He seemed to fight more with Ennis these days than with Lureen and Randall put together, but God Almighty that man could make it worth it when he wanted to. Jack knew Ennis's fighting was just another tantrum, sadness and fear getting the better of him. Ennis's emotions had been runnin' higher than Ennis was used to, Ennis's hand slipping on the tight reins of control in all arenas, and Jack knew that was his own fault. He decided to start this conversation over, keeping that in mind. "Look, either we gotta have this conversation later, or we gotta pull off a the road an' have it face ta face."

Ennis took the invitation, and pulled right off onto the undersized shoulder of the deserted two-lane interstate. Jack was shocked; usually Ennis was all for avoidance as long as possible. But this was some kind a new Ennis that looked fears and dangers head on. After all, he was on a road trip with Jack, wasn't he?

Maybe, in the end, none a this scared Ennis as much. Maybe Ennis's preoccupation with that other fear, fear Jack didn't want to name, was startin' ta make Ennis lose sight of some fears that had bound Ennis all his life. Jack's years as a salesman made him good at readin' people, and time had made him good at readin' Ennis, but this was all new territory, and left Jack with precious little solid ground. But the old ground was rutted deep and muddy. Jack was momentarily grateful for the exhilarating, rushing fear of being pathless once again.

Ennis practically threw the RV into park, and wasted no time turnin' his whole body towards Jack, accusations flaring in his eyes. "Talk. Whut you not tellin' me?"

"Ennis..."

"We havin' this conversation or ain't we?"

"Yeah." Jack blew out a cold breath that rivaled the wind, pullin' from the west, too, from California and all the places they was headin' together. "The doctor says I'm in the clear, Ennis. I'm not shittin' you." Jack let the words sink in for emphasis, knowing that was what Ennis needed ta hear. "Thing is, he ain't too optimistic. He says-- I don't hardly know 'bout this stuff-- but he said..." Jack made the mistake now of lookin' up to Ennis's eyes. Where he was expectin' ta find his old, grumpy cowboy, he saw something warm, some deep well in Ennis's eyes, eyes looking exactly like they had that second night together up on the mountain, when Ennis come to him in that tent. Ennis was full of fear, but needin' ta take it all in. Jack inhaled and continued, careful this time not to look up. "I guess he thought it might not be gone forever."

"He say that?"

"Somethin' like that."

"How long?"

"How long what?" Jack finally flicked his eyes back up, hearing Ennis's self-protective walls lock back into place along with his terse words.

Ennis wasn't able to answer, to elaborate on a question he probably didn't want to ask in any form, feared the answer to. He was pressin' a finger into the green leather of the steering wheel. The whole livin' part of the RV was done in patchwork browns, but the drivin' part was done in greens. It was the part of the RV the world saw, forest-colored, less garish. The patchwork part was private, was the bed and the table. As out-of-place as the brown might be, Jack preferred it to the threadbare greens.

Outside the RV, a red-tailed hawk circled lazily over the road, maybe waitin' ta kill some critter that crossed the road at an unfortunate time. Jack was beginnin' ta think he wouldn't never see the road ahead himself. He was stuck on the shoulder of a deserted highly in a RV with Ennis. Though he reckoned there were worse places to be stuck-- and plenty a worse people to be stuck with.

"I could live forever," Jack shot a toothy grin at Ennis from under his mustache. "Come 'ere." Jack reached a hand across the center console, laying it gently on Ennis's cheek. They weren't quite out in the open, but Jack was still surprised when Ennis leaned into his palm instead of slapping it away.

"Jack." Ennis's voice was hoarse, thick, settling into a frightening place.

"Ennis." Jack kept his hand there, against Ennis's warm cheek, arm stretched awkwardly across the too-wide RV. Ennis kept his eyes closed, so Jack went on. "I could get sick on this trip. If I do, I got a go back to Childress immediat'ly. You understand?" Ennis nodded against his palm. "But I could not get sick on this trip, too, or never again. I might just end up more attached to you than I am now, you keep bein' sweet to me. So you better watch out. 'Cause we in whole new territory." Jack felt Ennis's jaw clench. Dropped his voice through his smile, he continued. "We're keepin' promises now, ain't we." It wasn't a question. "So can't neither one a us make ones we don't intend ta keep."

Ennis's eyes flickered open and caught Jack's over Jack's outstretched arm. Jack jerked away like he'd been caught doin' something he shouldn't. The only person that'd caught him was Ennis, but in the past, that had been enough. Ennis didn't give him the judgin' look he was expecting, though. Instead he just put the RV back in gear, climbin' onto the highway.

Underneath Ennis's silence, Jack saw nothin' but his own questions, his own doubts, his own dreams. He'd barreled through his own carefully-practiced veneer of detachment, cultivated from decades of Ennis's mixed up feelings, right on the side of this road, and he couldn't even read the results on Ennis's weather-worn face.

The RV was a slow moving creature. But once it got under way, it was big as three tanks, stronger'n any storm, ready ta pull on right through. Hearing the song a unstoppable tires on asphalt was like the earth singing Jack fresh again. Maybe all these years it'd been just a lullaby to quiet him for this moment, but it went on singing as the RV flew west.

They arrived in Salt Lake around dinner time. Jack took some scraps of paper from the glove box, and suggested a place called "Mountain Shadows" in Draper, so Ennis just followed his directions. Jack smiled to see that Mountain Shadows was just exactly that, an RV park at the base of a mountain, and that felt just about right. Ennis sat parked while Jack went on in ta the little office and got a site. He payed extra for one with a shade tree, even though it was winter, an' there was about a half inch on the ground here. There wasn't a leaf anywhere in sight.

They parked the RV and hooked up all the lines, plannin' to stay five whole nights. After that, they walked to a little general store on the grounds, keeping their distance and their silence. There wasn't much in the store in the way a groceries, but with a practiced eye for fast and flavorful foods, Jack dumped a handful of frozen burritos and a few cans of soup into his little green basket. He also added some crackers and cheese, the makings a hot dogs, and some Diet Coke like he was used to drinkin' at home.

Jack eventually rejoined Ennis, who was putterin' around the back aisle grumbling to himself.

"You alright there?"

Ennis spun around, dropping spray deodorant into Jack's basket. "Don't got no liquor in this damned Mormon hellhole."

Jack laughed. "You been here three minutes and you already hate it."

"Don't see how they think it's alright ta run an operation like this without beer." Ennis was walking away from Jack through the aisles, grabbing some beef jerky on his way.

"All ya had ta do was ask."

Ennis pinned Jack with a questioning glare.

"You think I'm so damned unprepared all the time. I didn't have time ta get a good map because I was busy fillin' the closets with liquor." Jack chuckled.

Ennis turned, lips pursed in something like anger, eyes scanning around the store just once. Jack could see as well as Ennis that the old man working the register had his nose buried in a tabloid. Ennis turned back, catching Jack's eyes with a meaningful head tilt, grabbed Jack's basket, and went to the register to pay as if he couldn't get back fast enough.

That night was just about heaven for Jack. They sat outside the RV at their little fire pit, going through more hot dogs 'n beer than could possibly be healthy. Lureen would have bitched at him all the next day 'bout it. Jack had along his travel radio, and they were slumped in the firelight, reflectin' off the snow in golden waves. Jack's belly and brain buzzed with contentment, and he leaned back an' hummed along with Dolly Parton to The House of the Rising Sun. It was just like always.

But it was so fuckin' different. For starters, below the crackin' flames, slosh a whiskey, and dirge of Southern madam, was a wholly new sound-- the murmur of other people, other conversations, the crackling of other fires. Here and there a dog barked, or a child squealed with delight or cold. Through thick patches of bare trees, they caught sparkling window lights of other RVs. The park wasn't anywhere near crowded, and they were still isolated by any normal man's definition, but Jack's definition of isolated wasn't any normal man's. It was his and his alone, trained into him. And this was far from it.

An' that wasn't the only way it was different. They had weeks together and places to explore, a long day tomorrow whatever they decided to do with it.

Just the fact that they were here, that they were doin' somethin' new after so much time spent doin' somethin' old... He turned to Ennis, saw Ennis turn back to him, a sheen in that man's eyes. He wondered if there was a watery glaze to his own and thought it likely.

"Ain't as cold here as you might expect," Jack muttered quiet.

"Ain't cold at all," Ennis smiled back full-out. 'Cause it was true they were used to being naked in mountain air in fall and early spring, and here at a reasonable altitude, even in the middle a winter, wasn't like that at all. Or maybe it was the fire. Or the whiskey.

Ennis broke the silence again. "Well, I'm gettin' tired, gonna head back in." His eyes pierced Jack with meaning.

Jack frowned. "I can't say I'm feelin' too great. Just'... tired, you know?"

"That's alright. Come on in." Ennis rose to dump ash on the already-tuckerin' fire as he spoke.

They packed up in silence, puttin' the food in the fridge. Ennis washed up in the bathroom, then Jack went in an' did the same, brushed his teeth. They unfolded the futon for the first time and wrapped it in linens. By then, Jack was hesitant ta break the silence, ta jeopardize this in any way. Turnin' out the lights and locking up for the night, all in silence still, Jack crawled against the wall, under the covers. Ennis crawled in next to him.

In the mountains they always just wore their jeans 'n shirts, or slept naked once they'd shed 'em. Ennis was sleeping in loose-fitting pajama pants and a white T-shirt tonight. Jack was in a pair of cotton pants as well, but shirtless. Jack didn't know what Ennis usually wore to bed, an' he reckoned Ennis didn't know 'bout him, either. A shiver thrill sparked up his spine. It was still a new moon, but Jack reckoned he had somethin' brighter ta light up his nights.

They started slowly, Jack cursing his sore body and the double effects a painkillers and alcohol. He wasn't quite able to go at it full speed, but he didn't have ta say so, and he didn't care ta apologize since he didn't see how it was his own fault. Still, Ennis pulled him close. He could feel Ennis's own enthusiasm in more ways than one. Ennis was breathing inta Jack's neck, Jack imagining senseless words in that air.

Ennis was a hard man. He wasn't overly affectionate or open. He was a Cowboy like Johnny Cash's, and none a that was new to Jack. But neither was this. Anyone just seein' their relationship from the outside, like maybe Randall or Lureen, wouldn't have seen this, Ennis feather-soft. Jack thought heard a breath in the shape of the usual endearment, "little darlin," as he backed up against Ennis. Ennis's hand slipped around Jack and into his pants, even has he propped his head up to look into Jack's face.

"You always sleep with so much on, huh?"

"Well, and you're one ta talk." Jack pulled at the T-shirt.

Ennis indulged him and pulled it off. They didn't go much further than that. Jack had slept a drug-hazed and needful slumber against Ennis's clothed chest the night before, but turning Ennis over and laying his content mind against a familiar sprinkling of gray-blond hair undid him. He could have mapped out that hair in his sleep, and had, more than once, in his dreams. He knew the exact in-curve of Ennis's slight cave-chest, brushed a hand across well-known collar bone, and tried to remember which freckles Ennis were newer than Brokeback, which older. The steady heartbeat, more familiar to him than his own, was a lulled and peaceful place. The space between Jack's setting thoughts of the past, and rising dreams of the future, was only the forty-five seconds it took him to slip off to sleep.