Jack at 19 (1)

June 15, 1963

Jack thought it strange that there was no tendril of wood smoke curling up from the forest below as he started down the trail toward camp that evening. Half an hour later he paused at a belvedere and peered down toward the clearing. He could make out the tent through the trees but saw no sign of activity. It was Friday so Ennis had gone for supplies, but he should've been back by now. When he reached home, as he thought of it, he saw that both the mule and Ennis' horse were missing. He dismounted and walked around, peering into the woods and listening, surprised at how disappointed he felt not to hear Ennis' laconic greeting. They had parted ways for the day at the same time that morning, Jack heading up to the sheep and Ennis down to the bridge to meet the Basque. What could've happened?

Well, better get a fire going at least, he told himself, so he collected some kindling and in a few minutes had a pot of water heating up. Restless with worry, he paced back and forth as the light dimmed, imagining the next-to-worse – Ennis injured and unconscious or unable to walk, Cigar Butt running off. With no moon tonight it would be too dark to ride out searching for him. If Ennis wasn't back by dawn he'd head out to find him, the hell with the sheep.

As he turned to pace back across the clearing, he froze. A naked man was sitting on the tree trunk before the fire, watching him. It took him several seconds to realize who it was. He walked slowly up to him and stood with his hands on his hips.

"Well, when're you comin from?"

"Sixty-nine."

"What were you doin?"

"Watchin TV in a motel room."

"Ennis went on the food run this mornin and still isn't back."

"I know."

"I'm worried as hell. He might be hurt. He—" Jack dropped his hands to his sides. "You know what's happened don't you?" he exclaimed. "Where is he? Is he in trouble? If he is I gotta go find him. Tell me!" He grabbed the other Jack's shoulder and shook him. "Tell me what happened, damn you!"

Despite his anger Jack couldn't help studying his face, examining the changes. He looked different, but he couldn't say exactly how. Most of the change was in his eyes.

"I can't tell you what's happened to Ennis," he said, taking hold of Jack's wrist and easing his hand off his shoulder. "If I do, it might change what happens next and then where would I be?"

Jack turned away and stared out at the dark curtain of tall pines. An owl hooted nearby; seconds later a faint answering cry came from deep in the woods. This fledgling friendship was suddenly precious to him, a delicate thing he'd been nurturing for the past two weeks, waiting for it to take wing. If something had happened to Ennis... His sinuses pricked and he breathed out sharply through his nose.

When he turned back, his older self was looking at him with sympathy written on his face. "Alright," he sighed. "Alright. He's... he'll be back before morning."

Relief flooded through Jack. He inhaled deeply and dropped down to sit beside him. They sat in silence for a minute. Jack tried to think of a safe question to ask about the future.

"Hey," he said suddenly. "Who's the president now? Can you tell me that?"

"Nope. Tell you what though, rodeoin will save our life. Just one thing," his 25 year old self went on, "when he gets back, you gotta make like you're pissed off. You go fallin all over him, well, you'll scare him. Yeah, I know what you're thinkin," he went on, seeing Jack's expression. "I remember. But you gotta take it real slow with him. First try n' make him laugh."

He leaned toward the flames and stared into them. "Nother thing. If you see me again up here, and I tell you to say somethin, well—"

He was gone. Jack stared into the space he'd occupied and wondered how he would've finished the sentence. He threw more sticks on the fire and settled down to wait, still anxious about Ennis. He reached for the whiskey bottle. It would help him work himself into a snit.