Ennis broke the surface and grabbed at Jack, bent on retaliation for the ducking he'd just gotten. His heart stuttered to a stop, and then began hammering at triple speed when he saw they were no longer alone. Three men stood on the natural rock pier, looming black shapes that blocked the sun, featureless, yet ominous. Jack struck out for the shore, but Ennis froze in dread when one of the strangers spoke.

"Well looky here, boys. Reckon Joe was right. These two pissants is sure 'nough queer as a three dollar bill."

"Ennis!" Jack called over his shoulder as he entered the shallows. "Git outta there, boy!"

Ennis's head swiveled toward Jack rising naked from the water and headed for the truck where they'd left the rifles. Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention as two of the intruders ran toward Jack. The air in Ennis's lungs turned to liquid nitrogen and his shout of warning froze in his throat. Jack turned at the sound of footsteps behind him just as the man in the lead swung the tire iron in a vicious arc. The sickening thud of metal striking flesh broke Ennis's paralysis and he began splashing frantically toward the shore.

Shotgun pellets kicked up water all around Ennis and stung the side of his face and neck, but it didn't slow him down. He heard the second barrel discharge like a distant clap of thunder, presaging bad weather. The shot that turned his back into something that looked like raw hamburger affected him as much as a hard rainfall. He barely broke stride as he hurtled forward in a race he'd already lost. By the time he reached Jack, the good ol' boys had done their red work and were headed for their truck. Their laughter pierced Ennis's brain like the yapping of coyotes as he dropped to his knees beside Jack, his tears dousing his rage as he saw what they'd done.

A black hole opened up in Ennis's chest, letting the cold wind blow right through him and he knew right then, he'd never be warm again in this life. He cradled Jack's lifeless body to his breast, shutting his eyes against the wet ruin of Jack's face, as he laced his fingers in Jack's hair. Bowing his head, he didn't flinch when he felt the barrel of the shotgun nudge the back of his skull. It meant nothing to him if he lived or died, but there was something he had to say first.

"Jack, I swear…" he began, and swallowed hard before he went on. "I'm sorry. It's my fault this happened. I knew it was wrong whut we was doin' and I oughta quit you, but truth is I just couldn't leave ya alone. And now I got ya killed. I sure am sorry, Jack."

The shotgun went off and Ennis sat bolt upright in the tent, sweating and trembling like he had the flu. He put out a hand and felt Jack, warm and safe at his side. Even with that assurance, it was a long time before his heart stopped galloping like a runaway horse and he was shaking so hard that he woke Jack up.

"Ennis?" Jack's sleep-fuzzy voice reached the other man in his cave of fear. "Ya okay?"

"Just a bad dream," Ennis answered. "Go on back to sleep. It ain't but three in the mornin'."

"Early," Jack mumbled as he turned over to face Ennis. "Too early?"

Ennis looked into his friend's heavy-lidded gaze and everything south of his navel melted into a slurry of lust. No matter how hard he tried, how many times he told himself he wasn't queer, Ennis could not resist Jack. All it took was a glance, and Ennis was hard as a math test, rarin' to go. Hell, sometimes all Ennis had to do was think about Jack and his pecker popped up to say howdy. Right now it was sliding across his lower belly in a slick of its own making. Jack reached for him, and Ennis groaned deep in his chest as the long cool fingers began to shuttle up and down his hot flesh.

"Where ya goin'?" Ennis muttered as Jack slipped under the blanket.

He had his answer a moment later when his arousal was enveloped in wet heat and he realized Jack wasn't aiming for a quick romp, but the full ride with all the bells and whistles. And that suited Ennis right down to the ground. Jack's attempted mustache added an interesting new flavor to a familiar treat as it brushed over sensitive flesh. Feeling a sudden urge to reciprocate, Ennis threw the covers off and took Jack by the shoulders. In an impromptu wrestling match that involved a lot of squirming bodily contact and suppressed snorts of laughter, they maneuvered around until the pleasure was mutual. They were so wrapped up in each other that they never even heard the approaching footsteps, had no idea they weren't alone until the tent was snatched from over them, leaving them naked and entwined in the pale dawn light.

A boot caught Ennis in the ribs, knocking him away from Jack. He rolled and came up on his knees, hands scrabbling blindly for anything that would serve as a weapon. As he grabbed the end of a piece of kindling from the campfire, a rifle butt smashed into the side of his head. When he came to, he saw three men standing around Jack with their pants around their ankles. Jack was tied belly down over a saddle with a gag in his mouth. Ennis roared his rage as he surged to his feet and charged. Almost casually, one of the attackers turned and raised his gun.

"Ennis!" Jack shouted.

The world exploded in a flash of light and the repercussions rocked Ennis.

"Ennis!" Jack shook Ennis's shoulder until his eyes opened. "God damn, son, that musta been some nightmare."

Ennis let Jack cradle him to this chest as he looked around at the walls of the log cabin. After a few minutes, the familiar surroundings calmed his racing heart, and he realized he'd just had a very bad dream. He was with Jack on one of their all too rare "fishing" trips to the middle of nowhere, because that's the only place he felt safe. Out here there was no one to stare or point a finger. There was only the two of them, relying on each other for everything, the way they'd done up on Brokeback before life narrowed from an open highway to this crooked trail. What had happened to them?

Ennis knew the answer to that one. Life. Life had happened to them. Both of them had come down from the mountain and gone their separate ways, trying their hardest to do what was expected of them, to be good men, good husbands and good fathers. It was never easy, but each did the best he could, even if he had the feeling he would always fall short, because neither could put his full heart into it. The only time either felt whole was when they were together, off on some phony fishing trip out in the boonies. Like this one.

"Aw Ennis, don't," Jack said when the first hot salty drop fell on his forearm. "Hey there, buckaroo. Whut you cryin' about?"

"I ain't cryin'," Ennis said as he rubbed the moisture from his eyes.

"The hell you ain't. Just tell me whut's wrong."

As always, Ennis shied from the subject like a mustang from fire. "I done tol' you, there ain't nothin' wrong. I just got smoke in my eyes is all."

"Smoke," Jack repeated. "That right? From what fire?"

"This'n," Ennis said as he turned in Jack's embrace.

Jack smiled as Ennis's mouth covered his in a deep wet kiss that left no doubt as to how he felt about his friend or his plans for the immediate future. In that kiss was the promise of more to come and a declaration of love that would never be spoken aloud. Ennis rolled until Jack was uppermost, straddling his hips, sleep spiked hair haloed by the morning sun through the window. Jack's smile became a grin, and then the light was eclipsed, glass shattered and Jack pitched sideways on the bed. Ennis stared in numb shock as a red stain crept across the yellowed sheets and the sound of tires on gravel grew fainter.

"Hang on, Jack," Ennis said, when he realized Jack was still breathing.

Red bubbles formed and burst on Jack's lips as Ennis pulled on his pants and snatched up the truck keys, cursing the lack of a phone. They were a hundred miles from the nearest one, and fifty more from the closest hospital. Wrapping Jack in a blanket, Ennis loaded him in the truck and tore out at top speed, praying Jack would stay alive until he got him to a doc. But it didn't help. Jack breathed his last just before they made it to the paved road.

Ennis drove on, unable to decide what to do, until he reached the bridge and saw the truck pulled off to the side. The driver was on the shoulder, taking a leak with his high-powered deer rifle tucked under his arm. With the calmness of the righteous, Ennis put his foot down on the gas pedal. The hunter looked up and the stream of urine was cut off as he saw the pickup bearing down on him. Raising his rifle to his shoulder, he took aim as Ennis rammed into the side of his truck. The hunter was flung into the fast moving water and disappeared from sight. With a terrible screeching of metal on metal on stone, the wrecked vehicles began to slide down the rocky embankment, trailing sparks. The strong smell of gasoline permeated the cab as Ennis reached out to touch Jack's hand. The shrieking grew louder, drowning out the words Jack would never hear.

"Ennis, would you please see what Jenny's cryin' about?" Alma shouted from the kitchen.

Ennis sat up on the couch, knocking over the bottle of beer leaning against his stomach. He looked around the cluttered room, disoriented until Alma hollered at him again. Reaching for his pack, he lit a smoke and shambled into the girls' room.

Jenny was standing up in her crib, chubby fists gripping the rail, her mouth open in an incessant series of piercing wails. Tears streamed down to mix with the snot that bubbled from her tiny nose. Ennis lifted her up and wiped her red little face with the tail of his undershirt, crooning nonsense under his breath. Seeing the attention Jenny was getting, Alma Jr. began to blubber. Ennis looked around for a place to put out his cigarette and ended up pinching it between his wet fingers. Gathering Alma Jr. under his arm, he carried both girls to the living room and sat them on the couch with him. They were soon engrossed in the Saturday cartoons and Ennis's thoughts turned to his nightmare.

In each of the terrible dreams, Jack had died, and they seemed to reinforce Ennis's fears that death would follow close upon discovery of what they did together. He was right for insisting that they could only meet far from any other people. Then Alma came in to feel Jenny's forehead, and say again how glad she was that they lived in town now where they could get Jenny to the doctor fast if they needed to, and Ennis actually heard her for once.

Suppose Jack got hurt while they were off in the ass a nowhere. It wouldn't have to be anything more sinister than a snake sunning itself on the trail. What if Jack's horse threw him and he broke his neck? Would Ennis be able to save him? Or would it come down to him holding Jack as his friend left him forever? Ennis could still feel the crushing weight of the sorrow that had crashed down on him in his nightmares and he knew he'd never be able to bear living without Jack. And if that were the case, he should do everything he could to see that Jack was safe, or never see him again.

Maybe he'd been too quick to dismiss the idea of a small ranch somewhere where nobody knew them. They could keep to themselves, but be close enough to a town to shop at the local stores, be a part of the community, get help if they needed it.

And if anyone came after them, they way someone had gone after old Earl, they'd find Ennis armed and expecting them. At least his paranoia would serve a useful purpose, and he'd be able to be with Jack most of the time. As long as they were careful…

"Ennis, whut in the world are you daydreamin' about?" Alma asked as she picked up his empty beer bottle and the overflowing ashtray.

"Fishin'," he said as he absently palmed Jenny's soft hair.

Alma Jr. curled under her daddy's arm and dozed off, her belly showing below her pajama top. Ennis pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head as he settled Jenny against his chest. In a few moments, both girls were in Sleepytown. Alma brought Ennis a fresh beer and stood for a moment looking down at her little family.

"Whut?" Ennis asked.

"Nothin'. You can be real sweet when you want to."

Ennis nearly spoke, nearly told her what made him want to be sweet, but old habits die hard, if ever, and he kept his new thoughts to himself for now. He'd be seeing Jack in a little less than twenty-four hours and he'd talk to him first. If Jack could see his way clear to leaving his family and starting up somewhere else with Ennis, then Ennis would bring it up with Alma. Having made his decision, Ennis dozed off with his daughters draped over him like puppies and all of his dreams were good ones.

Read the sequel Owning Up