"Well looky what we got here, boys."

Jack's shoulders drew up around his ears at the sound of the taunting voice, hoping it wasn't aimed at him, but knowing it was. He kept walking, eyes focused on the lights of the honky-tonk at the end of the street.

The Mexican border was less than three hundred feet behind him, and Jack was still sticky with the residue of seed and shame that this visit left on him. He was in no mood right now for a confrontation, if he ever was. It was best to just keep walking and not look right or left.

"He looks mighty sweet in that purty shirt with roses on it, don't he, Reese?"

"Damnit, I tole yew t' call me Sidewinder."

The voices were naggingly familiar and the cold chill became an Arctic blast as Jack suppressed the wild urge to take to his heels. Running would only make it worse. Best to try and brazen it out.

"Like what you see?" Jack asked as he turned. "You some kinda queer, or somethin'?"

"Fuck yew," the one that called himself Sidewinder said. "I ain't no queer."

"Well you sure seem to think I'm cute," Jack reminded him.

"He said you was sweet, not cute, but damned if ya ain't the cutest thing I ever did see."

Jack heard the snarling whine of trouble tones in the new speaker's voice. This man wasn't kidding around. He'd come here to stomp some ass, and he didn't much care what shape it came in. Jack had always known that this day would come, and he didn't see how he could avoid getting racked up here.

Going for broke, he answered, as he got moving again. "Well if you're lookin' for a date, you're shit outta luck, 'cause I aint queer neither."

"That's okay, darlin'," the stranger said. "I don't mind."

Jack was almost out of the alleyway when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder and he was yanked back. "Look here, I don't want no trouble, but you boys are outta line."

"Is we, Jack?"

Jack froze as Joe Allen Dautry stepped away into the light, strutting up to Jack like a bantam rooster facing off with a yard dog. The pint-sized bull rider had lost to Jack last night in Sharver City, and wasn't generally known as a good sport.

"I had a notion 'bout you Jack, 'bout them big blue eyes and that sweet mouth. So me'n my friends here followed ya. Enjoy your trip South a the Border?"

"That's my business," Jack said.

"It were bidness all right," Dautry said. "What's th' goin' rate fer a hummer?"

"I got no idea what you're talkin' 'bout," Jack answered. "Now git outta my way."

The hulking Reese planted himself squarely in Jack's path with a smug sneer. At six foot six, with scatterings of wiry hair and bulging muscles plated with fat, Reese resembled nothing so much as an old bear wakened untimely from hibernation. Bad-tempered, and in a bad mood, he was trouble on the hoof.

"You been slankin' 'round our rodeo too long, Jack Twist," Dautry said. "And we're invitin' ya to leave. Ain't that right, J.C.?"

Jesse Cole Haller pushed away from the wall he leaned against and Dautry made room for him automatically. "Jack Twist," he said like a man pronouncing a word in some hated foreign language. "These boys gimme a earful about you, tell me you're partial t' your own kind."

"Fuck you," Jack said, including everyone in earshot. "These two shitbirds don't know nothin' 'bout me. In point a fact, I'm engaged to the purtiest girl in Childress, Texas."

"I feel sorry for her. Probably deserves a real man. Tell you what; when we're done with you, we'll look 'er up."

Jack cast a quick glance over his shoulder, nerves zinging, throat dry as scripture. "They's a crowd a people just over yonder," he pointed out.

"They ain't gonna care what happens to some queer caught sneakin' back from whatever nastiness boys like you get up to," Dautry stated confidently.

With nothing to lose, Jack threw an elbow backward into Reese's gut and swung on Dautry, connecting with the little man's ear. Dautry reeled back in excruciating pain from the lucky punch that burst his eardrum. Reese recovered quickly, getting an arm around Jack's neck as Jack threw a right at Haller.

"He's a wildcat, ain't he, J.C.?" Reese chuckled as Jack thrashed in his hold.

"We'll gentle him down some," Haller predicted, watching Dautry the way a coyote eyes a sick member of the flock. "You gonna whine all night, Joe Allen?"

"My ear fuckin' hurts," Dautry spat.

"Well here's the fella what hit yew, Joe Allen," Reese said. "Yew wanna paste 'im one, I'll hold 'im for ya."

Haller's lip curled. "That's sounds like Joe Allen. Go on and smack 'im one, ya yella dog."

"Fuck you, J.C.!"

Haller's hand moved faster than a striking copperhead, fastening on the smaller man's throat, fingertips digging into skin and cartilage. "I don't think I heard you right," Haller said. "Care t' repeat that?"

Dautry shook his head and was released. Panting, he fetched up against the adobe wall and tried to catch his breath. Reese stared in bovine bafflement until Haller looked at him.

"You hold onto pretty boy real tight, ya hear?" Haller said.

"He ain't goin' nowhere," Reese answered.

Haller took Jack's chin between thumb and forefinger. "Be a shame t' mess up your face, Twist. Reckon that little lady in Childress wouldn't like you so good no more."

"Fuck 'im up," Dautry wheezed.

"I b'lieve that's just what I'll do," Haller said. "Drag his ass over to the truck."

:::::::::::::::

"Jack fuckin' Twist," Ennis muttered, as he walked out of the fifth bar he'd visited since he'd hit the border.

It hadn't been easy tracking Jack Twist, but it hadn't been all that hard either. After Alma broke off the engagement, Ennis had gone all the way to Lightning Flats and found Jack's home place. Jack's mama had given Ennis the name of the outfit Jack was rodeoing with, and Ennis had driven and pushed his truck all the way across Texas, one town to the next until he caught up.

A few words exchanged with a stock handler had sent Ennis to a bar where the ropers and riders drank. It had taken all of Ennis's courage, but he struck up conversations until someone mentioned that Jack had spoken of Mexico. An hour's ride through the desert with the chill night wind funneled in the window, brought Ennis to this market of sin.

"Couldn't you find no whores t' suit ya in Texas, Jack?" Ennis said under his breath as a sultry senorita sashayed by.

Ennis's eyes drifted to the other side of the street. A dark-eyed young man blew him a kiss, and Ennis's features tightened into a lowering frown. The Mexican boy looked away with a graceful play of neck muscles and something clicked into place for Ennis. Abruptly, he knew why Jack had come all the way to Mexico to do his whoring.

Ennis's breath whistled in through pinched nostrils as he strode purposefully toward the dark end of the street. If Jack Twist was here, Ennis would find him. And if Jack was doing what Ennis suspected, Jack might be leaving in a pine box. Hands clenched into fists, his mouth a grim, unforgiving line, Ennis marched into the alley.

:::::::::::::

"Goddamnit, Reese, hold onto 'im. He's half your size, fer Chrissake!"

"I ain't telling ya again. Call me Sidewinder," the big man grunted, as he caught hold of Jack's flailing leg again.

Pinning the limb to the bed of the truck, Reese looked over at J.C. to gauge the ringleader's temper. Haller's attention was focused on Twist's contorted features.

"You shut up, Joe Allen," Haller said. "I like it when they fight, and this ol' boy ain't givin' up easy."

Jack chewed the greasy bandanna they'd gagged him with and raged incoherently as his jeans were worked down his hips. He made it as difficult as possible, but with Dautry and Reese holding his arms and legs, there was little he could do to stop this. Jack had a pretty good idea what they intended for him, and made up his mind that they wouldn't break him.

"Goddamn, he's buckin' like that nag what throwed yew last summer, J.C.," Reese said. "Yew 'member how yew's laid up so bad yew couldn't buy whiskey?"

J.C. Haller shot Reese a look that penetrated even his dense skull. Reese shut his trap and turned his attention to keeping Jack Twist contained. It surely wasn't no picnic gettin' a fellah's pants off with him fightin' tooth and nail, but between three of them, they managed.

"Ya want we should turn 'im over for ya?" Joe Allen asked eagerly.

"Hell no," Haller said. "I wanna see that purty face." Haller caught the glance that his cronies exchanged and deigned to enlighten them. "I wanna see his eyes change when I shove my pecker in. You watch close, boys. 'Cause I guarantee, this'n gonna beg for more once he gets a taste a my dick."

"Fuck you," Jack tried to say, as he pulled at his captors' hold.

"Lookit 'im squirm," Joe Allen laughed nastily. "Wiggle all ya want, Twist. Yew gonna git now. Oh yeah. You gonna git good."

J.C. Haller unbuttoned his jeans and freed his hard on. Joe Allen's eyes dropped admiringly to the nine inches of stiff flesh jutting forth from a nest of reddish curls. Peeling back the hood of loose flesh, Haller stepped closer to their thrashing victim.

"Shit! I ain't never gonna git in with him floppin' like a landed trout. Grab that hank a rope and tie his hands."

Reese held Jack's wrists together while Joe Allen set a record for knot tying. Jack's bound hands were fastened to the toolbox, and the men grabbed one his ankles each. Folding Jack's legs back, they bent him nearly double.

"I got some bag balm in the cab, J.C.," Joe Allen offered as Haller spit in his hand.

"Hell," Haller answered. "Jack's tough, ain't ya Jack? He don't need nothin'."

Jack slung himself side to side as hard as he could as Haller's erection nudged his crack. His desperate attempt to escape the impaling had little effect, other than arousing his rapist to a fever pitch. Haller's olive green eyes gleamed feverishly as he prepared to mount to the music of Jack's inarticulate protests.

"I know. I know," Haller said under his breath as he rubbed the head of his arousal against Jack's clamped opening. "I'm excited too. Just gimme a second an' I'll make us both happy."

Jack's back arched as though he'd grabbed hold of a live wire as Haller pushed into him. A keening moan rose from his chest to escape through his clenched teeth as a loud whine. Haller grinned at his friends.

"Lissen to 'im," he said. "I love it when they sing to me."

Panting for breath, Jack twisted and jerked, but nothing halted the forward progress of the battering ram of flesh. The pain was considerable, but he'd been hurt worse; he rode bulls for a living. He could handle the pain. It was the helplessness that he couldn't take.

No matter how hard Jack tried, he couldn't get away from these men. Nor could he stop what they were doing to him. His only options were to endure, or go mad.

Gritting his teeth, Jack reminded himself of his vow not to let them break him. Haller saw the panic in his victim's eyes change to resolve. A slow smile curved Haller's lips and he withdrew from Jack's sheath.

"What the hell?" Joe Allen exclaimed. "Thought you was gonna teach this queer a lesson."

"Shut the hell up," Haller said. "I could pound Twist's ass from now 'til Judgment Day and never git another sound out of 'im. I know that look. He ain't broke enough t' ride yet."

"What the hell yew gon' do?" Reese wondered.

"Watch'n learn, boys," Haller said.

Putting a hand on Jack's inner thigh, Haller spread his legs farther apart. To his cronies' amazement, Haller poked his middle finger at Jack's asshole.

"You gone crazy?" Joe Allen asked.

"Maybe. You don't wanna find out," Haller said. "I'm gonna make Twist cum, though."

"Bullshit!" Joe Allen blurted.

"If you'd hush up for a minute, ya might learn somethin'."

Jack couldn't hold in a whimper when Haller's probing digit found his weak spot. Haller grinned evilly as he circled the sensitive bump, pressing firmly. Jack moved restlessly, but could not escape the relentless stimulation. Against his will, his cock began to harden. v "I'll be Goddamn," Joe Allen said.

"Sumbitch," Reese concurred.

"I knew you was queer, Twist," Joe Allen crowed.

Haller shook his head, but didn't bother correcting his idiot friend. He had better things to do. Having brought his captive to a state of unwilling arousal, Haller entered him again.

"Keep time for me," Haller panted. "See if he makes it to eight seconds."

Sinking his fingers into Jack's flanks, Haller thrust shallowly, striking his victim's prostate with each stroke. Jack tossed his head in violent denial of the release that was building in his groin. Looked like he'd been wrong; this devil was going to break him after all.

"Yeah. You feelin' it, ain't ya, honey?" Haller crooned. "That big dick feels good inside ya, don't it? You just as sweet as pie, Jack Twist. Sure am glad Joe Allen inter-duced us."

Panic took hold of Jack, gripping him in an iron fist and shaking him until he couldn't think. His world was reduced to the feel of hard callused hands holding him down, the harsh breathing of the animal that rode him, and the hot hardness that stretched him to the limit of his endurance. The climax that spattered his belly did nothing to ease the horrible tension that threatened to tear him in half.

"What the fuck're yew lookin' at?" Reese growled.

Joe Allen tore his eyes from the point where Haller's arousal entered Twist in time to see the punch that knocked Reese off his feet. The big man hit the ground on his backside and before he could move, a boot under his chin put his lights out. Reese's assailant turned and Joe Allen dropped the leg he was holding.

Haller pulled reluctantly out of Jack as his head spun toward the stranger. "What the hell…" was as far as he got before the whirlwind was on him. Joe Allen watched the flurry of dirty punches, gouges and bites for a minute before he took action. Opening the drivers' side door of the pickup, he rummaged under the seat.

Coming up with Reese's Colt, Joe Allen pointed it at the combatants. "Hold it right there!" he shouted, preparing to pull the trigger.

Haller threw himself against fender and managed to break free. Snatching the gun from Joe Allen, Haller stuck the barrel in his attacker's face.

"Just who the fuck are you, mister?" Haller asked.

Joe Allen knelt beside Reese and dry retched when he saw the mess the stranger's boot had made of Reese's face. "Shoot 'im!" he coughed.

Jack finally managed to work the spit-soaked gag from his mouth. "Ennis!" he cried out, yanking at his bonds.

With no regard for his personal safety, Ennis lunged instinctively toward the sound of Jack's voice: a siren call he hadn't heard in four years. As Haller's knuckled whitened on the trigger, Jack kicked him hard in the kidneys. Haller lurched forward and the revolver flew out of his hand as Ennis's stone fist sank into his diaphragm.

Joe Allen dithered, but decided to dive for the gun. Ennis's foot in his ribs distracted him. Another kick knocked the wind out of Joe Allen as he rolled over in a desperate attempt to avoid the next blow. The pain of his broken ribs was nothing compared to the agony of a boot on his windpipe slowly crushing his means of drawing breath.

Haller plowed into Ennis from his blind side and Ennis stumbled back over Reese's inert bulk. Ennis's skull bounced off the cracked pavement as Haller landed atop him, hands reaching for Ennis's throat. Ennis brought his head up abruptly, smashing his forehead into the other man's. Haller fell backward, as Ennis scrambled to his knees.

Grasping the dazed man by his shirtfront, Ennis shook Haller hard. "You sumbitch!" he roared. "I'm gonna put you in the ground!"

The sound of a police siren coincided with the smack of Ennis's fist hitting the side of Haller's face. Rising to his feet, Ennis dragged Haller with him. Cocking his fist, he hit the rapist again, splitting the skin over Haller's cheekbone. Blood pouring from his cheek and nose, Haller tried to get hold Ennis's neck again.

"Ennis!" Jack yelled. "The cops!"

Joe Allen's head came up out of a puddle. He could barely crawl, but he sure as all hell didn't want to spend no time in no Mexican jail. His hand fell on the Colt and it was a few moments before he realized what he was holding.

A car stopped at the end of the alley and someone called out in Spanish. Joe Allen turned toward the voice and took a bullet in the neck. The gun fell from his hand as Jack screamed at Ennis. Ennis dropped Haller's limp body and looked toward the truck. A cartridge passed through the spot his head had just occupied, and Ennis jumped in surprise.

Like a man wakened from a nightmare, Ennis stared at the tableau before him as two more shots whined past to lodge in the adobe walls. "Jack?" he said tentatively.

"Goddamnit, Ennis! Move your dumb ass before the Mexican po-lice shoot it off!"

Ennis stepped over the bloody carcasses of Jack's assailants and jumped into the back of the pickup. Pulling the tailgate up, he ducked behind it. His pocketknife made short work of the ropes that bound Jack, as a couple of slugs spanged off the bumper.

"Jack," Ennis began.

"Not now," Jack said. "Git in the Goddamn truck and git us outta here."

Ennis nodded and lifted Jack, lowering him over the far side of the truck. Jack climbed into the cab as Ennis slid in the other window. A bullet starred the back window, as Ennis fired up the engine and shifted into reverse. There was a series of bumps as the tires passed over Haller and his friends, and then Ennis put his foot down on the gas.

The Policia scattered as the truck barreled toward their car without slowing down. At the last minute, Ennis spun the wheel and turned the pickup in a ninety-degree arc. Shifting into first, he nosed past the cruiser and headed right for the cops. Men in uniforms dove for the gutters as Ennis upshifted and bulldozed his way to the street.

"Hoo-eeeee!" Jack hollered, looking out the shattered rear windshield.

"Git down," Ennis growled. "They got rifles."

Jack sank down in the seat and held his peace, as he pulled on the jeans that still dangled from one foot. Reese's pickup was several years newer and a lot more powerful than Ennis's beater, and they were soon several miles away from the border headed north at top speed. A good twenty minutes went by before Jack spoke.

"Four years," he said.

Ennis nodded. "You still sore about that punch?"

After a moment's thought, Jack answered in the negative. Ennis's lips curved slightly in his version of a smile, and his grip loosened on the steering wheel. Reaching into his breast pocket, he took out a pack of cigarettes and offered them to Jack.

"Much obliged," Jack nodded, taking the pack. "Want one?"

Ennis nodded and Jack lit two cigarettes with a wooden match. Handing one to Ennis, Jack blew out a silver blue plume of smoke.

"How in the hell did you find me?"

Ennis recounted his search, as Jack smoked and nodded, making comments where they were appropriate. Ennis agreed that Jack's daddy was indeed a sour old sumbitch that had much in common with the Antichrist. And Ennis allowed as how he could see the allure of the rodeo life even though it weren't for him. But he didn't cotton much to Mexico.

"Why'd you come after me?" Jack changed the subject.

Ennis stared straight ahead as he answered. "I never should a let ya go," he said. "It's been twistin' my guts for four years, but I finally figgered out what was causin' my misery. It's you, Jack Twist. You done this to me."

"Ya hate me for it?"

"I wanted to at first, but I come to see that you ain't no more to blame than me. This thing happened to us, and we gotta decide what to do 'bout it."

Jack sat up straighter. "You mean that, Ennis?"

"Reckon I do."

Tears welled up in Jack's eyes and began to overflow. Ennis swerved off the road and drove slowly into the desert. When they were some distance from the highway, he turned off the engine and the headlights.

"I wish ya wouldn't cry," Ennis said in a voice so low it was nearly inaudible.

Jack dragged his sleeve across his eyes. "That better?"

"Shit," Ennis muttered as he pulled Jack across the seat and into his arms.

Jack wrapped his arms around Ennis and they embraced fiercely as though attempting to merge like microbes. Ennis rocked gently as he breathed in the ineffable, elusive scent that was Jack's alone, that Ennis would have known blindfolded in a dark room. Jack buried his face in the curve of Ennis's neck and wept as though he never meant to stop.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Jack murmured over and over, until Ennis told him to hush up.

"What you got to be sorry for?"

"I'm…" Jack's voice choked off and it was a few moments before he could continue. "I'm not the same… as when we was up on Brokeback."

Ennis frowned as he looked into Jack's wounded gaze. Abruptly, he dipped his head and took Jack's mouth in a deep, tender, stirring kiss that left Jack breathless.

"Ya sure taste the same," Ennis drawled.

Jack gaped as Ennis touched his cheek with the back of his hand.

"Feel the same, too."

Jack leaned his face against Ennis's hand and closed his eyes. "This is a dream, ain't it?"

"I don't think so. If it was a dream, I wouldn't have skint knuckles."

"Guess you got there in the nick a time," Jack said.

Ennis dropped his eyes. "Or maybe a little after."

"Let's talk about that later," Jack said. "Whatta we do now?"

"I found you again," Ennis said gruffly. "That's enough for me."

Jack nodded. "How 'bout this then? I heard there's a job up in Montana herdin' mustangs on government land. We'd be livin' rough: no 'lectricity, no plumbin', but we'd be on our own most a the time. Only have to see people when we pick up supplies."

"Give this some thought, have ya?"

Jack looked out at the rising moon. "Reckon I have."

"How come?"

Jack lowered his eyelids, looking down at his hands. "Friend, you got no idea how bad it can get. I been lonely for so long, I cain't hardly stand it no more. Comin' down here was one helluva mistake, though."

Ennis curled a hand around Jack's nape and pulled him close again. Jack laid his cheek against Ennis's chest and listened to the strong beating of Ennis's heart. The sound that had once been as familiar to him as the wind in the trees, soothed him with it's steady marking of time passing by.

"I love you, friend," Jack's voice was muffled against the plaid shirt.

"Maybe so," Ennis answered, cradling Jack's head in a big hand. "I sure aim to find out."