Jack watched Ennis drive up, a smile creeping across his face, as the truck got closer. He could see Ennis holding up a brown paper bag, and though Jack had no idea what it meant, his smile broadened to a grin. He'd spent the trip here brooding, but he was beaming now with the sheer pleasure of being in the same place as this man.

For the short time it took to set the parking brake and climb out of the cab, Jack was years in the past, waiting for Ennis to return from the high pasture. The intervening time was a veil of smoke that blurred the inevitable pain they inflicted at each parting. Jack forgot all the wasted time, all the hurt, all the dreams deferred, as his cowboy rode up.

"Beans," Ennis said, hefting the grocery bag. "Gonna fix 'em just like I used to."

Jack laughed at the joke, thrilled with Ennis's playfulness. There wasn't much of it, and Jack savored what came his way. If he wished for more carefree moments, he had only himself to blame if he was disappointed. He reckoned Lureen was right, and we make our own beds, no use taking Ennis to task for what he couldn't help.

They fell into the familiar routine of setting up camp and sat down by the fire as the sun was setting. The whiskey came out and Jack twisted a stick of the wacky tobaccy he'd come to favor. Ennis hit the joint out of camaraderie, but didn't pull the smoke too deep into his lungs. That shit was for hippies, after all.

The flickering light of the campfire, the floating euphoria of the weed and the plangent sounds of the river that ran day and night lulled the two men into a drowsy state. The bottle was near to slipping from Jack's hand when Ennis spoke, jarring him to wakefulness.

"Met your friend Randall."

Jack felt like he'd been snatched up by a giant fist, squeezed hard and dropped into a pool of snow melt. Frozen, and vibrating with some strong emotion close kin to terror, Jack lifted the bottle to his numb lips and swallowed several times. The liquor did nothing to fortify him, but he didn't feel as cold when he answered.

"Randall?"

Ennis turned slightly to look Jack in the eyes. "Don't try and fool me, Jack. The big bastard come to see me up to the Double D. Give me a earful."

Jack couldn't hold on to the bottle and set it down with shaking fingers. "What'd he say?"

"I think you know what he tole me, Jack fuckin' Twist. Guess that itch a yours got too much for ya. How's he at scratchin'? Better'n me?"

Jack stood and quickly found out that his legs wouldn't hold him up. He ended up on his knees beside Ennis.

"I didn't mean it," Jack's voice was barely audible.

Sliding out of his chair, Ennis joined Jack on the ground. He'd given this meeting a lot of thought, more even than usual, and this time the thoughts did not revolve around how good it was going to feel sinning with Jack. This time he'd patiently and laboriously hammered together a few sentences he hoped would get his meaning across.

However, when Jack looked up, his eyes were shiny with tears and all that came out of Ennis's bear trap was a choked, "Jack … I swear …"

They fell together, propping one another up, as relief filled them like a spring flood in a dry gully. This wasn't the end after all. The flashpoint words had been uttered and they were still in one piece. Maybe they could talk it out, reach some understanding, instead of letting it be, letting it fester. Maybe just once more they could be as free of fear as they were during the brief eternity when they strode the heights of Brokeback.

Ennis felt Jack's tears fall warm on his neck and cradled him close without any thought of what the embrace might lead to. He simply held his friend, his best and only friend, the one person in all this mad world that saw him as an equal, and had never turned him away.

Ennis recalled all the times that he had slapped Jack down for jumping at him. Was he as crazy stupid as that sumbitch Malone thought he was? Must be, or he wouldn't keep trying to get rid of the only person in his life that accepted him as he was, and more, loved him in spite of what he was.

"Ennis," Jack snuffled. "You got to believe me… Whatever Randall said…"

"Shush," Ennis said in Jack's ear. "What you done. What I done. It's done. Ain't no use jawin' 'bout it."

"You ain't gonna kill my dumb ass and leave me for the coyotes?"

Ennis pulled Jack as close as he could, trying to wrap himself all the way around the other man like an extra shirt. He wanted for Jack what he wanted for himself, but never saw clearly until this moment: warmth, security and surcease of the aching aloneness, another resident on his desert island. Sure, he wanted to kill Jack for letting another man enter the sanctuary, but he wasn't going to.

How could he blame Jack? Now that he saw Jack was no different from him? No stronger. No better. Just a man. A man he loved.

And then the hard tears came, welling up like blood from a puncture wound, scalding Ennis's eyelids. This was all his fault. He was the one that should be shot like a rabid dog.

For taking what Jack offered and giving nothing back. For forcing Jack to live on his terms. For keeping Jack on such a short leash while never admitting how much he wanted him in return. Jack may have betrayed Ennis, but he'd learned the trick from an expert. Ennis couldn't think of a single person he hadn't disappointed.

With one of the greatest efforts of will in a lifetime defined by avoidance and sublimation, Ennis focused on the here and now. "Maybe we both deserve killin', but I ain't never gonna let nobody hurt you from now on, not even me."

"How ya gonna work that?"

"I reckon I gotta be around ya 'bout twenty-three hours outta twenty-four, but I'll sure as fire give it my best shot."

"What're ya sayin'?" Jack drew back until he could see Ennis's face.

"Could ya leave your family?" Ennis asked.

"For how long?" Jack paused. "Oh. You mean leave them."

Ennis nodded. "It'll take some doin', but I think I can see m' way clear t' goin' off somewhere with ya. Gotta arrange somethin' with the child support, but that's 'bout the only responsibility I got. I'll miss my baby girls, but reckon they'll be better off without me comin' 'round now and then. That Monroe, he's a good, steady fella. Do right by 'em."

Jack stared at Ennis. He hadn't heard a word after the first sentence.

"Years a not talkin' and now ya cain't shut up," Jack said. "Where ya see us endin' up? How we gonna live? You got any idea?"

"Happens I do. Ya don't exactly sound overjoyed though."

"I still cain't believe my fuckin' ears."

"I mean it, Jack. That Malone fella sure 'nough talked some sense inta me. I don't never need t' know what was between ya, but he convinced me I was about to lose ya forever."

"Bull…shit."

"Sure 'nough."

Jack shook his head. "I know you're lyin' 'cause Randall was still in one piece last time I saw 'im."

"That right? How many times he take ya to the races the last couple a weeks?"

Jack's eyes grew wider as he thought about Randall's lame excuses for not hooking up. "You sumbitch," he breathed at last.

The idea of an Ennis Del Mar that cared enough about him to warn off a rival rocked Jack's world on its axis. Reeling a little, he scrambled for balance.

"I'm sorry," Jack said in sincere contrition.

"Okay then," Ennis gave his absolution. "I was thinkin' 'bout Alaska."

Jack laughed. "Don't know what I thought ya was gonna say next, but that wasn't it."

"Got any thoughts?"

"It's about as far away from warm as ya can get, I reckon."

"Well where the hell you wanna go? Mexico, maybe?"

"Hell no," Jack said quickly. "Just thinkin' out loud. Ya asked my opinion."

"Sure did," Ennis said softly. "Sorry."

The word undid Jack like no poetic protestations of love ever could. Cupping Ennis's weather worn face between his hands, Jack looked at him with all the love he'd stored up pouring from his eyes. He looked at Ennis the way he'd looked at him at the moment he'd realized how much the scruffy cowboy meant to him.

Ennis had been riding away from him, always had been, and Jack now saw that he'd been waiting all these years for him to come back. "Well ain't we a couple a sorry broke-dick rounders."

"Reckon we suit each other."

"Who else'd have us?"

Jack realized his mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Ennis already knew who else would have Jack.

"I cain't seem to open my mouth without I say somethin' stupid," Jack said.

"Now that's a problem I can fix," Ennis answered.

Knocking Jack's hands away, Ennis took hold of the other man's head and kissed him thoroughly. Jack responded eagerly, giving as good as he got, sucking Ennis's tongue into his mouth as his lips were mashed against his teeth. Fingers shaking with excitement, Jack worked the buttons of his fly.

Ennis grabbed one of Jack's wrists and brought the hand to his crotch. Jack squeezed the resilient swell in the front of Ennis's jeans. Ennis tipped them sideways, breaking the kiss, and the lawn chair. Disentangling themselves from the wreckage with snorts of laughter, they rolled closer to the fire.

Jack unbuckled Ennis's belt, as Ennis's hand slid under the waistband of Jack's BVDs. Their mouths came together again with an urgency that increased by the second. Once the fire was lit, it burned hotter and brighter until it consumed all in its path. They did not speak because they had no breath for words.

Ennis wasted little time getting into the saddle. It was where he belonged; nothing else had ever come this easy to him in his whole misery stained life. On horseback, or astride Jack, Ennis was a natural without a trace of hesitancy. He knew what to do without ever needing to be told, the knowledge hardwired into his muscles and nerves.

Letting Jack set the pace, Ennis fell into the rhythmic action until they moved as one, hearts melded as surely as their bodies. Ennis deftly directed the rise and fall, the surge and recoil, the depth and angle of each thrust and sway that edged them closer to the point of no return.

Out long practice, Ennis felt the tightening of Jack's muscles that heralded the other man's climax. Ennis wrapped his big hand around Jack's fingers on his hard flesh. Jack came with a startled little noise that would've made Ennis chuckle if his own release hadn't snuck up on him just then.

Ennis groaned deep in his chest as his seed unspooled in an ecstatic spasm and he followed Jack down to the grass. The welcome tide of afterglow began to creep over him, competing with the warmth of the campfire. "C'mere, darlin'," he murmured as he rolled onto his back with Jack atop him.

Jack made an indeterminate noise as Ennis disengaged and pulled him up with an arm around his chest. Ennis rested his cheek atop Jack's springy hair and took a deep, slow breath. For now he didn't need anything else, not a cigarette, or a sip of whiskey, no music, no money, no nothing. Just Jack and free air to breathe.

Ennis was dozing off when Jack spoke. "North to Alaska, huh? What're you thinkin', Ennis Del Mar? We gonna strike it rich?"

"Already have," Ennis mumbled and refused to repeat himself.

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

Lureen gave Jack the divorce he wanted and let her tell her friends she wouldn't put up with his tomcattin' ways. Jack talked to Bobby for a long time and though the boy wasn't happy about his daddy moving out, he was relieved that he wouldn't have to pretend he didn't hear his parents yelling at each other anymore.

Ennis cowboyed up and went to see Alma. She didn't have much to say to the news that he was moving up north with Jack Twist. Alma nodded a few times, stamped and wrote down her address on several envelopes and tucked them into the inner pocket of Ennis's jacket. Wishing him good luck, she made it clear that the visit was over and he could see the girls another time.

Ennis unbent enough to let Jack buy their passage north to the oilfields. They lasted less than half a year as roughnecks before the mountains beckoned. With their wages, they bought horses and a piece of land near Soldotna to keep them on. They could see Mount Redoubt, their only neighbor, from the window of their bedroom.

After a lean year spent exploring new territory, Jack got the idea of guiding vacationers around the wilderness. The no-frills tour of the still active volcano became popular enough for Jack to make a living at it. Ennis took to staying home, improving the log cabin and the outbuildings, planting a garden, whittling crude but clever carvings of local wildlife.

Jack was typically away for ten days, returning home for a three-day break before the next party of wealthy trekkers disembarked from the seaplane. Ennis was always there to greet Jack with seventy-two hours of home cooking, sweet loving and a deep, abiding welcome that never wore out.

Several times a year, obeying the impulse to leave everything behind, they packed the mules, saddled their horses and rode off into the harsh, magnificent Alaskan landscape. And they were happy. Not all of the time, but for longer and longer stretches. They missed their children, sacrifices were made, but all in all, it was a pretty sweet life.

Each night Ennis wrapped an arm around Jack, Jack butted back against him, and they fell asleep feeling all was right with the world. And mostly it was.