"Whaddya plan to do on gettin back?" Ennis asked, part to hear Jack talk and part genuinely curious.
Jack pauses his relentless harmonica squeaking. "Gonna rodeo, all over. When I see you next I'll saddle my motorhorse with gold and instead a goin to bars I'll drink from a whiskey spring."
Ennis snorts. He isn't even going to ask what a motorhorse is, or if it even exists. "You can't even play the harmonica."
Jack turns around from where he's reining the horse and dusts off his belt buckle with a proud – undeniably smug – smile. The prestigious, unblemished gold catches the sunlight, sending a blinding glare into Ennis's eyes; but Ennis is more distracted by Jack's abnormally thick lashes and crooked smile. Everything about him is a little crooked, a little hopeful, a little determined; a country boy through and through. Ennis is just fine with adoring it quietly. "You got no idea what I can do."
"Would like ta see, one a these days."
The grin Jack flashes at him — a delicious smoothie of seduction and flattery — makes Ennis's damned heart flutter. "Maybe you will."
They're riding together on Jack's chestnut, for reasons Ennis doesn't even know, nor does he care to; he likes their position just fine.
And he's perfectly aware of Jack's body heat, like a pulsing heart, warming his own chest. Perfectly aware of how Jack has intentionally slumped back slightly to be able to lean into him, into an almost-embrace. Perfectly aware of how neither of them make a move to budge.
And although he probes around in the dark depths of his body and soul for some sad dredges of who he was before the summer of '63, he's scared to find that there's none at all.
"What 'bout you? Whaddya plan on doin?"
"Oh, I dun' know. Take some ranch work here an' there." He trails off awkwardly, avoiding Jack's eyes. Eyes so full of ambition and hope. Every word he says feels empty compared to Jack's.
He lights a cigarette, just to look busy. He has somewhere to be, something to do… at Jack's motioning, he takes a puff and passes it over. "Would be quite some problem if you came back with your back broken in half."
"Didn't know you gave a damn," Jack says with mirth.
Ennis can only grunt in reply. He feels a sudden urge and wraps his arms around Jack's midriff, resting his chin on his shoulder; Jack turns his head slightly to meet him, smudged, freckled nose almost touching his own. This is his favourite position. They're swaying in the saddle, but Ennis tightens his embrace, keeps Jack secured. His eyes wander to Jack's broad shoulders. His fingers splay out, feeling the abdomen tough with lean muscle that shouts, it's a man, Ennis Del Mar is with a man.
Ennis finally gives himself to the beauty of that fact with little shame; because who wouldn't fall in love with a man like Jack?
"Ya know," Jack says slowly, probingly, "We could be like this, just like this, always."
Ennis says nothing, letting the crunch of dirt under hooves and rustling of treetops fill the silence. He thinks of the pool of blood devouring Old Earl's mutilated body, the gaping hole where his crotch was. The way the blood sluggishly crept toward him, so dark and crimson like it would devour him whole, its next poor victim.
Wrong… this is all wrong, his mind hisses, but he realises he doesn't care. Damn them thoughts, always intrudin when I'm feelin just fine with someone who makes me feel things I can't never feel… Jack always says… they don't got no right, no right to take that from us. "We could, if the world'd let us."
"No, we let ourselves." This is the first time Jack has ever mumbled, and that's when Ennis knows he's serious. He's scared too. He had just been the pillar Ennis was clutching onto.
Maybe Ennis really is a coward. He can't even tell Jack to his face that he's in love with him, even if Jack knows it and he knows it and the entirety of Brokeback Mountain probably knows it. "I get back, and I'll end it with Alma," he says slowly. But willingly.
He's not nearly blind enough to realise he doesn't love her the way she loves him. And if she loves him the way he loves Jack, then it's just a double whammy. He and Jack are heading straight for a cliff, and the last thing he wants is to drag her down with them.
And Jack… now that he's got a taste of heaven he ain't never goin back to hell. Ennis and Alma would be heading straight for a cliff, too. And he knows Jack won't let go of him even if Ennis kicks and screams and gives him a black eye. Jack won't leave no matter how many times he tries to get rid of him.
"I thought you loved her," Jack whispers.
"I thought I did, once…"
"Does that mean…"
Ennis only nods.