Enough Time - Chapter 7
Genre: AU - Not Dead Jack
Summary: Based on the premise of the film Groundhog Day. Ennis relives one day over and over until he gets it right.
Update schedule: Every Friday until June 13th.
Extra special thanks to rt_in_town for beta help and feedback on this chapter.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
He awoke to snow. He reached up and put his hand to the back of his head, probing his scalp, but there was no blood, no pain. The men who'd confronted him in the parking lot hadn't yet laid a finger on him when he'd felt an explosion behind his eyes, just an instant ago. And now he was back here. He understood then that he'd cheated death for the third time.
The first time was around the fourth or fifth day. He'd decided to drive all night, wondering if staying awake until dawn would make today drift naturally into a new tomorrow. But the last thing he remembered from that night was a pair of headlights blazing in his face. Then he'd opened his eyes to find himself on his back in the tent as always. The next time, he'd been pumping up his tire on the side of the road when he heard a bang and felt something hit his face with tremendous force, so fast and hard he didn't even feel pain. The next second he was here, testing his nose and jaw, which were intact.
The day before this one he'd stopped at that bar, as he'd taken to doing, in order to talk to the rodeo clown. He remembered the guy from the spring, and seeing him again had given him an idea. It had taken several visits to draw from Jimbo the information he wanted. If he drove fast and didn't stop for John Steel, he calculated that he could get to the rodeo in that town in time to snag the last ride. The clown had told him that the guy who'd signed for it hadn't shown up. It was a mean bull worth a lot of points. If he could ride it every day, he'd learn his tricks. If he got hurt, it wouldn't matter. Then when he was finally released from this endless fucking day he could go back and win the big prize.
But he'd made a mistake with Jimbo this evening, or rather last night. He was a good looking guy, something he'd noticed in April, but now he couldn't help comparing him to Ennis. He must've looked at him a certain way, or maybe repeated something the clown had told him another day, because he'd suddenly shut down and moved away from Jack. When he'd left the bar later, the clown and two burly men had set upon him in the parking lot. Maybe Ennis was right; you had to be careful. But maybe John Steel was right, too. Because what had he done? Nothing.
It had given him second thoughts about trying the bull, though, because he wasn't sure about Jimbo now, whether he could really trust him to protect him when he was on the ground. Better to break his neck on impact and wake immediately than get trampled and endure hours of pain. But he had to find something to focus on because Ennis was making him crazy.
In the beginning, when he understood that he really was going to repeat this day over and over, he'd tried to take advantage of it, find a way to convince Ennis to come away with him. Nothing seemed to work. Eventually Jack had changed tactics, fine-tuning his greeting so they would at least have an hour together under the sun in the sweet-smelling grass. They always ended up half-naked at a certain spot in the meadow, which he could locate by the mass of columbine they would leave flattened when they rose in the late morning. Afterwards, they lay together and talked. Somehow, knowing that what he told Ennis would not live past the day freed his tongue - not that he'd often kept quiet before. But he could ask Ennis questions he'd never dared pose: about his family (dispersed), his friends (few), his previous girlfriends (none), his dreams (modest). The one topic he couldn't bring himself to broach was Ennis' engagement. He kept hoping he'd find the right sequence of words and touches to lock that door for good. But in the late afternoon, by the side of Jack's truck, Ennis always turned away without ever revealing the combination.
Lately he'd given up. He no longer felt the wild abandon that had driven him to drag Ennis to the meadow and satisfy that hunger, over and over. Not when he knew there was no future for them. He'd worked out what to do to get the only thing that calmed his nerves now. For what seemed like weeks, Ennis had been showing up at precisely the same time, just after the sun moved directly over the tallest pine at the edge of the meadow. Jack simply stood before the pile of camping equipment with his back to the path and pretended not to hear the arrival of Ennis, who walked up behind him and just held him for a few minutes. He had done that one morning on a different day and Jack had craved it ever since. After that, the only good part of the day was talking to John Steel.
The very first day, the original one, Jack had ignored the black pickup by the side of the road when he drove away from Ennis. He'd stopped at the first bar he found and drunk until midnight, mourning the lost month, then passed out in his truck in the parking lot. On the second day, he'd noticed it again on the opposite shoulder, the driver trying to fix a flat tire. The sight of the black-hatted man kicking the fender in frustration had given him a pang. He'd slowed down and stopped opposite the matching truck, and that was how he'd met the older man.
"Can tell you right now that beatin on it don't work. I sure've tried it."
"My jack is broken. Do you have one?"
"Sure do. Lemme pull over."
"Thank you."
"Need a hand with that?"
"No. The jack is all I need."
"Don't sound like yer from Wyomin."
"I am from the east. From back east. You smell like sheep."
"Been herdin sheep on the mountain all summer."
"Then it's the smell of freedom."
"Yeah..."
"Summer is not over."
"We had ta come down early cause a bad weather... Hold onto your hat, big rig about to blow by."
"There. I think that will get me home. Thank you for the use of your jack."
"Sure nuff. Uh, guy I was workin with is hitchin up the road goin yer way. Would you give him a lift?"
"I always stop for hitchhikers."
* * *
"Thank you for the use of your jack, ...."
"Jack. Jack Twist."
"Funny. My name is St-... John Steel."
"Lemme guess, you work with metal then?"
"In a way. I am a blacksmith. If my father could see me he would laugh."
"Why?"
"He sold metal. But it was jewelry."
"My daddy laughs at me even when he doesn't see me."
* * *
"I can tell you're a blacksmith."
"How?"
"There are horseshoes in the back here. And, um, your right arm is much bigger than the left."
"You are very clever, very observant."
"That the family business?"
"No, but my father dealt in metals."
"Like gold and silver?"
"How did you-"
"Just a lucky guess. Why did he stop?"
"He's... He had to close his shop."
* * *
"You're not from Wyomin."
"No, from the East."
"You have family out here, that why you came?"
"My cousin lives on a ranch. I came because of him."
"Watch out, big truck about to...woops! Got it. Here ya go."
"Thank you for getting my hat."
"No problem. You're not married?"
"There. That should get me home, at least. Thank you for the use of your jack."
* * *
"You smell like sheep."
"Been herdin sheep with another guy all summer. A storm came up and we had ta bring 'em down early."
"I did that once, with my cousin, when I first came out here in forty seven."
"Didn't like it much?"
"I did. It was perfect for me then. I needed to be alone with my cousin, with no people around. I was... tired of crowded places. What are you doing?"
"Watch it, truck's comin. The BACKDRAFT WILL KNOCK YOUR... See, that's why I had to hold your hat down."
***
"Whoa... didn't mean ta scare you. It's just a jack. Looks like ya need one."
"You looked angry."
"Yeah, guess I am."
"Why?"
"You need a hand with that tire?"
"I'm fine. You can talk to me while I work. Who has made you angry?"
"Well... guy I was herdin sheep with till today."
"I herded sheep with my cousin sixteen years ago. It's not easy to spend so much time with one person on the mountain, unless you are very close. Even then..."
"Well, we were... close. But... we had ta come down early cause a bad weather. I wanted to look for more work to make up fer the money we lost. But he didn't want to."
"You can't look for work yourself?"
"I want... wanted us to work together but..."
"But?"
"He's gettin married soon."
"And you're not happy for him."
"He doesn't love her."
"But he loves you."
"...How... I didn't... We... that's not what..."
"It's not true? Yes, I see it is. One cannot say this?"
"He says a man can get killed and left in a ditch for doin what we do."
On his feet now and stepping up to Jack, leaning close, breath in his face.
"My friend, that can happen to a man for doing nothing."
* * *
"Thank you for the use of your jack."
"Any time."
"You don't look very well. You're tired?"
"Truth is, I been livin the same day over and over for weeks."
"I know how that is."
"I mean for real. Every day I wake up in the same place. Always up on the mountain on the last day. Every day is the same, but different."
"That happened to me when I was only a little older than you."
"Jokin?"
"You are lucky. You wake up in a nice place, just you and your friend. I was in hell. Every morning the same misery, just trying to survive the day, then waking up to do it all over again."
"Where were you?"
Holds out his hand, Jack takes it to shake. He doesn't let go, gripping tightly, gray eyes staring into his.
"When you are finally released, you must start living your life. That is the hardest part."
By now he could recognize instantly the sound of Aguirre's horse approaching and had a good half a minute to brace himself for the encounter. He had learned to look relieved at the news about his uncle, and to grumble about lost pay when receiving the order to bring the sheep down. Ennis had only appeared once when Aguirre was present, and from his snide remark Jack understood that their boss suspected, or worse, knew how they'd spent their days and nights. Jack had to make sure Ennis didn't realize that.
This whole strange experience had shown him that the most minor change in anyone's routine could alter the future. A couple of times he'd talked back to Aguirre, and then noticed changes in the sheep sorting when they'd descended, the other men behaving differently because of Aguirre's mood. He wondered what tiny ripple in the surface of the universe made Ennis arrive at camp at different times. One morning, fed up with its daily squawking, he'd thrown a snowball at a crow sitting in the nearest tree and it had flapped away, heading further up the mountain. Could it have flown up to where Ennis was camped and distracted the dogs, allowing a ewe to wander off, delaying him? He reflected on this while untying the stays of the tent and was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear Cigar Butt's approach until Ennis spoke.
"Jack."
He turned in surprise. Ennis was standing behind him and he looked different, though Jack couldn't put his finger on what had changed about him.
"Aguirre came by, said my uncle didn't die after all," Jack recited. "Said a worse storm's comin and we gotta bring 'em down." He peered closely at Ennis because his expression hadn't altered. Wasn't he listening?
Ennis dipped his hand into his pocket and when he pulled it out again he was holding something. He cleared his throat.
"Uh, I made ya somethin." Jack stared at him. "Know you like the dogs, so..." Ennis opened his hand. Standing on his palm was a little wooden dog, a Blue Heeler, perfect in every detail. Jack looked at it and then at Ennis, who kept his gaze on the dog.
"Ennis?" he whispered. "You carved this?" He could hardly speak.
"Been workin on it for at least a month. It's for you. Take it." Ennis' voice was low and hoarse.
Jack slowly lifted his hand and closed his fingers around the wooden dog. He recognized right away the markings of the herd dog he favored. Turning it over and over, he studied with amazement all the tiny details - the nails, the bump where its tail had been cropped, the way the wood was etched with fine grooves to indicate the dark patches, and covered with tiny nicks where the coat was mottled. Ennis must have worked on this for weeks. A searing thought ripped through him: Ennis had made up his mind long ago that at the end of the summer it was goodbye for good. But why was he giving it to Jack on this day and not the others? Something had shifted. Was this the end?
Jack could hardly work his throat to thank him. He raised his eyes to look at Ennis, who met his gaze at last.
"It's... beautiful. Perfect." Jack croaked out. He looked down at the dog in his hand and swallowed hard. "Thank you, Ennis."
Ennis stepped close to him and tried to embrace him, but Jack was still frozen in place, staring at the carving. He kissed Jack's neck below his ear and licked the skin, then sucked it hard. Jack pulled away, murmuring "Don't. Aguirre'll see it."
"Sorry, I forgot," mumbled Ennis, looking abashed.
Jack looked him in the eye, took a breath and said, "Ennis, why don't we..." But he couldn't bring himself to try again. He knew what he'd say.
"Never mind. Let's just pack up and go."
So they lashed everything to the mule, went to the sheep and brought them down, barely speaking. Jack saw Ennis glance over at him often but he didn't respond. What was the use? As they descended the mountain under the gathering clouds, the sheep flowing around their horses' legs, a bleakness seeped through him. He was sure he wouldn't wake up to snow tomorrow.
While the Basques counted the sheep, Aguirre began to complain, but to Jack's astonishment Ennis spoke up.
"It's my fault. A storm came up one evening, lotta wind and hail, and I didn't go back up. Jack was worried the sheep would drift but I was afraid I'd get blown off the mountain. He was right, I shoulda gone, cause they got mixed with another flock. We sorted 'em the best we could but the paint marks were faded."
Aguirre carried on grumbling but Jack didn't even hear him, he was so dumbfounded. Ennis just smoked and gazed at the mountain.
At the trailer, Jack counted his money and was startled to find he had twenty extra dollars. He looked over at Ennis, who was frowning as he counted a second time, moving his lips. As he fingered the last bill, Ennis looked up at their employer.
"This is short twenty bucks, Mr. Aguirre," he said.
"I got it here, he gave me too much," Jack said to him, handing him the bill. They both glared at Aguirre, who waved a hand at them in dismissal. "Get the hell outta my trailer,'' he spat.
At the truck, Jack got behind the wheel and turned the ignition, surprised that Ennis hadn't warned him about the truck not starting after all these months. It sputtered and died of course, so then Ennis opened the hood. He was bent over the motor for a long time, and several times told Jack to try again. But the engine still didn't turn over.
Finally Ennis straightened up and shut the hood. "No use, Jack. Think yer gonna have ta get a mechanic to look at it."
"You sure it's not the carburator?"
"Nope, tried that."
Jack sat behind the wheel and peered through the windshield at Ennis. Weeks of days ago, when he saw how quickly Ennis could fix his carburator, Jack had realized that the very first time Ennis had been stalling, delaying their parting. On all the other days then, Ennis had wanted to end it, even when he asked for his phone number. That time in the tent, when he'd told him so casually that he'd call him in a few days... that had opened Jack's eyes. He never intended to make that call. A black pit of depression had been widening in his heart ever since. But now, this obvious lie was allowing a spark of hope to ignite inside him. He wouldn't say anything, though, just see what happened next.
Ennis walked around to Jack's side. "Well, uh, I'm gonna hitch to Riverton. You wanna come along as far as the next town? Cause there ain't any mechanics in this one."
That wasn't what he'd expected to hear. He just said alright, so after getting his small duffel out he locked the truck and started walking down the street beside Ennis. He kept quiet, looking straight ahead, and out of the corner of his eye could see Ennis throwing him glances. Good, let him wonder.
They reached the junction and waited beside the empty road. The wind coursed over the prairie, ruffling the grass, as the reddening sun sank toward the waiting mountain. Jack fingered the wooden dog in his pocket. For a minute Ennis kept his eyes on the point where the road met the horizon, then turned to Jack.
"What're you plannin to do next?"
"Guess I'll go back to Lightnin Flat, help my daddy through the winter."
"It's not winter yet."
Jack stared at him.
"Uh, you ever think about lookin for work on another ranch?"
Only every fuckin day. "I did, once."
Ennis looked away and down, scuffing his boot in the dust. Jack willed himself not to ask Ennis what he meant. He heard the 18-wheeler before he saw it, and wondered about John Steel. How would he fix his tire if he didn't come along with his jack? When the big truck came into view, Jack looked at Ennis but instead of sticking out his thumb he turned away from the road.
"Don't wanna go in a rig like that. A lotta those truckers are nuts."
Jack couldn't help grinning. "OK, you're the one with experience." Ennis quirked a little smile and for the first time that day Jack wanted to kiss him. He nudge-punched his arm instead.
Twenty minutes passed, during which Jack fretted to himself about John Steel while noticing that Ennis seemed antsy, too. Two cars came by in that interval; at the first one, Ennis turned away to take a leak so Jack didn't put out his thumb. At the second one, Jack pretended to hear the call of nature as well. At last he heard the familiar rattle of the blacksmith's truck as the black speck on the horizon grew into a dot. He and Ennis lifted their heads as one and looked down the road.
The black truck chugged along at a steady rate until Jack could see the driver's black hat and broad face through the windshield. He put out his thumb and so did Ennis. As the pickup slowed down, he tried to compose himself. Remember, he's a perfect stranger. When the truck pulled up next to them, he saw that John Steel was flushed and dirty, his hands smeared with grime. Jack felt a rush of remorse, as though he'd let the man down by not keeping his daily appointment to deliver the jack he needed.
"I wish you boys had been looking for a ride five miles back. I had a flat tire and my jack was broken," he sighed. "How far are you going?"
"Uh, Riv- well, next town to find a mechanic," Ennis replied.
"Alright then."
Ennis opened the door and Jack saw him hesitate. It was a tight squeeze for three men. He was sure Ennis was debating whether to sit in the middle or next to the door. Since he knew this man already, Jack decided to spare Ennis having to make the decision and moved to get in. But Ennis startled him by sliding in first. Jack climbed in after him and shut the door, hearing a familiar creak as he did so. Ennis' arm and shoulder pushed against his and he relaxed into the warm pressure. He let his thigh rub against Ennis', but Ennis closed his legs.
"Why do you need a mechanic?" asked John Steel.
"We just came down from herdin sheep all summer," Jack replied, "and my truck won't start. It's exactly the same model as this one, matter a fact."
"1950 GMC?"
"Yeah, and it's a piece a... it's in pretty bad shape."
"It's probably the carburator. That is usually the trouble with mine."
Jack looked at Ennis and saw red creeping up his neck. He pondered this.
"There is probably a garage in Dubois, about 10 miles from here," said the driver.
"That'll be fine," Jack said dully. He felt Ennis shift next to him, and noticed he was squeezing the knuckles of his left hand with his right.
"I herded sheep up there with my cousin in nineteen forty seven. But we didn't come down until the end of September."
"Storm came up and we had ta bring 'em down early," Jack replied. Was that the thirtieth time he'd said that?
"We lost a whole month's pay so we were thinkin a lookin for some work on a ranch," Ennis said.
The sun crashed into the mountain and exploded; the wind roared across the plain and spun the truck around. That was the only way Jack could explain the heat flaming through him and the dizziness that suddenly hit him. Because how could one simple word - we! - make him feel this way? They were so close together in the cramped cab that their hat brims were touching. They made a wiffing sound as Jack turned his head to stare at Ennis, who kept his eyes fixed on the road though the corner of his mouth was twitching upwards.
"My cousin's ranch needs help."
Jack heard John Steel saying something about the isolation of the ranch and its distance from Riverton, but he couldn't concentrate on his words. Why hadn't Ennis ever proposed finding work together before? Then Ennis was speaking and Jack couldn't believe his ears.
"Most a the ranches I worked on were raisin Red Angus. I like 'em better 'n Herefords, they're smarter."
He and Ennis had debated the merits of Black Baldies and Herefords but he'd never once mentioned working around Red Angus. But John Steel nodded and said "That's what we have. If you are interested, I can take you there now. I will be coming back this way on Monday if you change your mind."
"You work there, too?" Jack asked.
"I live there but I don't like to work with animals in herds. I prefer horses but not to ride them. Can you guess what I do?" he asked them.
"You're a blacksmith," they said in unison.
"How did you know that?" he asked suspiciously.
"Because your right arm..." Jack began, "...is bigger than your left," finished Ennis. They looked at one another in surprise.
He lifted both hands from the wheel and held them aloft, letting his unbuttoned cuffs slide to his elbows. "I never noticed that," he said with a laugh. "You are both very observant."
"That your social security number on your arm?" Ennis chuckled.
He had dropped his hands back on the steering wheel but his forearms remained exposed. Jack stared at the tattoo and felt his mouth slowly go dry and a heavy stone grow in his chest. Then the weight sank to his stomach and his mouth suddenly flooded with saliva as a memory began to paint itself into his mind, the rough outlines building up into gray forms: his uncle Harold sitting in their kitchen when he was a boy, telling stories about the war, and then the war's end, of the stench of stacks of corpses rotting in the summer sun, the walking skeletons, the... until Jack's mother shushed him. He'd taken Jack aside on his last day and talked to him in an urgent whisper, this time showing him photographs that he slid from his wallet. Then his uncle had pulled him close, hugging his shoulders with one strong arm, and kissed him on the forehead, his stubbly chin scraping the bridge of Jack's nose. "Never forget," he'd murmured, "that it can be much worse."
Jack stared straight ahead and felt Ennis looking at him, then realized he'd reached over and seized his friend's hand, gripping it convulsively. Ennis tried to tug away but Jack held fast. Ennis squeezed his hand and Jack knew it signaled what's wrong? He returned the pressure and hoped Ennis understood that he meant tell you later.
John Steel fished out a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. Jack watched him one-handedly extract one and light it with a match, then suck in a lungful of smoke as though it was all he lived on.
"No, that is my social insecurity number," he answered as he exhaled. "It reminds me of who I really am."
Don't worry, there will be no flashbacks or gory details in the next chapter, which is the last one.
Summary: Based on the premise of the film Groundhog Day. Ennis relives one day over and over until he gets it right.
Update schedule: Every Friday until June 13th.
Extra special thanks to rt_in_town for beta help and feedback on this chapter.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
He awoke to snow. He reached up and put his hand to the back of his head, probing his scalp, but there was no blood, no pain. The men who'd confronted him in the parking lot hadn't yet laid a finger on him when he'd felt an explosion behind his eyes, just an instant ago. And now he was back here. He understood then that he'd cheated death for the third time.
The first time was around the fourth or fifth day. He'd decided to drive all night, wondering if staying awake until dawn would make today drift naturally into a new tomorrow. But the last thing he remembered from that night was a pair of headlights blazing in his face. Then he'd opened his eyes to find himself on his back in the tent as always. The next time, he'd been pumping up his tire on the side of the road when he heard a bang and felt something hit his face with tremendous force, so fast and hard he didn't even feel pain. The next second he was here, testing his nose and jaw, which were intact.
The day before this one he'd stopped at that bar, as he'd taken to doing, in order to talk to the rodeo clown. He remembered the guy from the spring, and seeing him again had given him an idea. It had taken several visits to draw from Jimbo the information he wanted. If he drove fast and didn't stop for John Steel, he calculated that he could get to the rodeo in that town in time to snag the last ride. The clown had told him that the guy who'd signed for it hadn't shown up. It was a mean bull worth a lot of points. If he could ride it every day, he'd learn his tricks. If he got hurt, it wouldn't matter. Then when he was finally released from this endless fucking day he could go back and win the big prize.
But he'd made a mistake with Jimbo this evening, or rather last night. He was a good looking guy, something he'd noticed in April, but now he couldn't help comparing him to Ennis. He must've looked at him a certain way, or maybe repeated something the clown had told him another day, because he'd suddenly shut down and moved away from Jack. When he'd left the bar later, the clown and two burly men had set upon him in the parking lot. Maybe Ennis was right; you had to be careful. But maybe John Steel was right, too. Because what had he done? Nothing.
It had given him second thoughts about trying the bull, though, because he wasn't sure about Jimbo now, whether he could really trust him to protect him when he was on the ground. Better to break his neck on impact and wake immediately than get trampled and endure hours of pain. But he had to find something to focus on because Ennis was making him crazy.
In the beginning, when he understood that he really was going to repeat this day over and over, he'd tried to take advantage of it, find a way to convince Ennis to come away with him. Nothing seemed to work. Eventually Jack had changed tactics, fine-tuning his greeting so they would at least have an hour together under the sun in the sweet-smelling grass. They always ended up half-naked at a certain spot in the meadow, which he could locate by the mass of columbine they would leave flattened when they rose in the late morning. Afterwards, they lay together and talked. Somehow, knowing that what he told Ennis would not live past the day freed his tongue - not that he'd often kept quiet before. But he could ask Ennis questions he'd never dared pose: about his family (dispersed), his friends (few), his previous girlfriends (none), his dreams (modest). The one topic he couldn't bring himself to broach was Ennis' engagement. He kept hoping he'd find the right sequence of words and touches to lock that door for good. But in the late afternoon, by the side of Jack's truck, Ennis always turned away without ever revealing the combination.
Lately he'd given up. He no longer felt the wild abandon that had driven him to drag Ennis to the meadow and satisfy that hunger, over and over. Not when he knew there was no future for them. He'd worked out what to do to get the only thing that calmed his nerves now. For what seemed like weeks, Ennis had been showing up at precisely the same time, just after the sun moved directly over the tallest pine at the edge of the meadow. Jack simply stood before the pile of camping equipment with his back to the path and pretended not to hear the arrival of Ennis, who walked up behind him and just held him for a few minutes. He had done that one morning on a different day and Jack had craved it ever since. After that, the only good part of the day was talking to John Steel.
The very first day, the original one, Jack had ignored the black pickup by the side of the road when he drove away from Ennis. He'd stopped at the first bar he found and drunk until midnight, mourning the lost month, then passed out in his truck in the parking lot. On the second day, he'd noticed it again on the opposite shoulder, the driver trying to fix a flat tire. The sight of the black-hatted man kicking the fender in frustration had given him a pang. He'd slowed down and stopped opposite the matching truck, and that was how he'd met the older man.
"Can tell you right now that beatin on it don't work. I sure've tried it."
"My jack is broken. Do you have one?"
"Sure do. Lemme pull over."
"Thank you."
"Need a hand with that?"
"No. The jack is all I need."
"Don't sound like yer from Wyomin."
"I am from the east. From back east. You smell like sheep."
"Been herdin sheep on the mountain all summer."
"Then it's the smell of freedom."
"Yeah..."
"Summer is not over."
"We had ta come down early cause a bad weather... Hold onto your hat, big rig about to blow by."
"There. I think that will get me home. Thank you for the use of your jack."
"Sure nuff. Uh, guy I was workin with is hitchin up the road goin yer way. Would you give him a lift?"
"I always stop for hitchhikers."
* * *
"Thank you for the use of your jack, ...."
"Jack. Jack Twist."
"Funny. My name is St-... John Steel."
"Lemme guess, you work with metal then?"
"In a way. I am a blacksmith. If my father could see me he would laugh."
"Why?"
"He sold metal. But it was jewelry."
"My daddy laughs at me even when he doesn't see me."
* * *
"I can tell you're a blacksmith."
"How?"
"There are horseshoes in the back here. And, um, your right arm is much bigger than the left."
"You are very clever, very observant."
"That the family business?"
"No, but my father dealt in metals."
"Like gold and silver?"
"How did you-"
"Just a lucky guess. Why did he stop?"
"He's... He had to close his shop."
* * *
"You're not from Wyomin."
"No, from the East."
"You have family out here, that why you came?"
"My cousin lives on a ranch. I came because of him."
"Watch out, big truck about to...woops! Got it. Here ya go."
"Thank you for getting my hat."
"No problem. You're not married?"
"There. That should get me home, at least. Thank you for the use of your jack."
* * *
"You smell like sheep."
"Been herdin sheep with another guy all summer. A storm came up and we had ta bring 'em down early."
"I did that once, with my cousin, when I first came out here in forty seven."
"Didn't like it much?"
"I did. It was perfect for me then. I needed to be alone with my cousin, with no people around. I was... tired of crowded places. What are you doing?"
"Watch it, truck's comin. The BACKDRAFT WILL KNOCK YOUR... See, that's why I had to hold your hat down."
***
"Whoa... didn't mean ta scare you. It's just a jack. Looks like ya need one."
"You looked angry."
"Yeah, guess I am."
"Why?"
"You need a hand with that tire?"
"I'm fine. You can talk to me while I work. Who has made you angry?"
"Well... guy I was herdin sheep with till today."
"I herded sheep with my cousin sixteen years ago. It's not easy to spend so much time with one person on the mountain, unless you are very close. Even then..."
"Well, we were... close. But... we had ta come down early cause a bad weather. I wanted to look for more work to make up fer the money we lost. But he didn't want to."
"You can't look for work yourself?"
"I want... wanted us to work together but..."
"But?"
"He's gettin married soon."
"And you're not happy for him."
"He doesn't love her."
"But he loves you."
"...How... I didn't... We... that's not what..."
"It's not true? Yes, I see it is. One cannot say this?"
"He says a man can get killed and left in a ditch for doin what we do."
On his feet now and stepping up to Jack, leaning close, breath in his face.
"My friend, that can happen to a man for doing nothing."
* * *
"Thank you for the use of your jack."
"Any time."
"You don't look very well. You're tired?"
"Truth is, I been livin the same day over and over for weeks."
"I know how that is."
"I mean for real. Every day I wake up in the same place. Always up on the mountain on the last day. Every day is the same, but different."
"That happened to me when I was only a little older than you."
"Jokin?"
"You are lucky. You wake up in a nice place, just you and your friend. I was in hell. Every morning the same misery, just trying to survive the day, then waking up to do it all over again."
"Where were you?"
Holds out his hand, Jack takes it to shake. He doesn't let go, gripping tightly, gray eyes staring into his.
"When you are finally released, you must start living your life. That is the hardest part."
By now he could recognize instantly the sound of Aguirre's horse approaching and had a good half a minute to brace himself for the encounter. He had learned to look relieved at the news about his uncle, and to grumble about lost pay when receiving the order to bring the sheep down. Ennis had only appeared once when Aguirre was present, and from his snide remark Jack understood that their boss suspected, or worse, knew how they'd spent their days and nights. Jack had to make sure Ennis didn't realize that.
This whole strange experience had shown him that the most minor change in anyone's routine could alter the future. A couple of times he'd talked back to Aguirre, and then noticed changes in the sheep sorting when they'd descended, the other men behaving differently because of Aguirre's mood. He wondered what tiny ripple in the surface of the universe made Ennis arrive at camp at different times. One morning, fed up with its daily squawking, he'd thrown a snowball at a crow sitting in the nearest tree and it had flapped away, heading further up the mountain. Could it have flown up to where Ennis was camped and distracted the dogs, allowing a ewe to wander off, delaying him? He reflected on this while untying the stays of the tent and was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear Cigar Butt's approach until Ennis spoke.
"Jack."
He turned in surprise. Ennis was standing behind him and he looked different, though Jack couldn't put his finger on what had changed about him.
"Aguirre came by, said my uncle didn't die after all," Jack recited. "Said a worse storm's comin and we gotta bring 'em down." He peered closely at Ennis because his expression hadn't altered. Wasn't he listening?
Ennis dipped his hand into his pocket and when he pulled it out again he was holding something. He cleared his throat.
"Uh, I made ya somethin." Jack stared at him. "Know you like the dogs, so..." Ennis opened his hand. Standing on his palm was a little wooden dog, a Blue Heeler, perfect in every detail. Jack looked at it and then at Ennis, who kept his gaze on the dog.
"Ennis?" he whispered. "You carved this?" He could hardly speak.
"Been workin on it for at least a month. It's for you. Take it." Ennis' voice was low and hoarse.
Jack slowly lifted his hand and closed his fingers around the wooden dog. He recognized right away the markings of the herd dog he favored. Turning it over and over, he studied with amazement all the tiny details - the nails, the bump where its tail had been cropped, the way the wood was etched with fine grooves to indicate the dark patches, and covered with tiny nicks where the coat was mottled. Ennis must have worked on this for weeks. A searing thought ripped through him: Ennis had made up his mind long ago that at the end of the summer it was goodbye for good. But why was he giving it to Jack on this day and not the others? Something had shifted. Was this the end?
Jack could hardly work his throat to thank him. He raised his eyes to look at Ennis, who met his gaze at last.
"It's... beautiful. Perfect." Jack croaked out. He looked down at the dog in his hand and swallowed hard. "Thank you, Ennis."
Ennis stepped close to him and tried to embrace him, but Jack was still frozen in place, staring at the carving. He kissed Jack's neck below his ear and licked the skin, then sucked it hard. Jack pulled away, murmuring "Don't. Aguirre'll see it."
"Sorry, I forgot," mumbled Ennis, looking abashed.
Jack looked him in the eye, took a breath and said, "Ennis, why don't we..." But he couldn't bring himself to try again. He knew what he'd say.
"Never mind. Let's just pack up and go."
So they lashed everything to the mule, went to the sheep and brought them down, barely speaking. Jack saw Ennis glance over at him often but he didn't respond. What was the use? As they descended the mountain under the gathering clouds, the sheep flowing around their horses' legs, a bleakness seeped through him. He was sure he wouldn't wake up to snow tomorrow.
While the Basques counted the sheep, Aguirre began to complain, but to Jack's astonishment Ennis spoke up.
"It's my fault. A storm came up one evening, lotta wind and hail, and I didn't go back up. Jack was worried the sheep would drift but I was afraid I'd get blown off the mountain. He was right, I shoulda gone, cause they got mixed with another flock. We sorted 'em the best we could but the paint marks were faded."
Aguirre carried on grumbling but Jack didn't even hear him, he was so dumbfounded. Ennis just smoked and gazed at the mountain.
At the trailer, Jack counted his money and was startled to find he had twenty extra dollars. He looked over at Ennis, who was frowning as he counted a second time, moving his lips. As he fingered the last bill, Ennis looked up at their employer.
"This is short twenty bucks, Mr. Aguirre," he said.
"I got it here, he gave me too much," Jack said to him, handing him the bill. They both glared at Aguirre, who waved a hand at them in dismissal. "Get the hell outta my trailer,'' he spat.
At the truck, Jack got behind the wheel and turned the ignition, surprised that Ennis hadn't warned him about the truck not starting after all these months. It sputtered and died of course, so then Ennis opened the hood. He was bent over the motor for a long time, and several times told Jack to try again. But the engine still didn't turn over.
Finally Ennis straightened up and shut the hood. "No use, Jack. Think yer gonna have ta get a mechanic to look at it."
"You sure it's not the carburator?"
"Nope, tried that."
Jack sat behind the wheel and peered through the windshield at Ennis. Weeks of days ago, when he saw how quickly Ennis could fix his carburator, Jack had realized that the very first time Ennis had been stalling, delaying their parting. On all the other days then, Ennis had wanted to end it, even when he asked for his phone number. That time in the tent, when he'd told him so casually that he'd call him in a few days... that had opened Jack's eyes. He never intended to make that call. A black pit of depression had been widening in his heart ever since. But now, this obvious lie was allowing a spark of hope to ignite inside him. He wouldn't say anything, though, just see what happened next.
Ennis walked around to Jack's side. "Well, uh, I'm gonna hitch to Riverton. You wanna come along as far as the next town? Cause there ain't any mechanics in this one."
That wasn't what he'd expected to hear. He just said alright, so after getting his small duffel out he locked the truck and started walking down the street beside Ennis. He kept quiet, looking straight ahead, and out of the corner of his eye could see Ennis throwing him glances. Good, let him wonder.
They reached the junction and waited beside the empty road. The wind coursed over the prairie, ruffling the grass, as the reddening sun sank toward the waiting mountain. Jack fingered the wooden dog in his pocket. For a minute Ennis kept his eyes on the point where the road met the horizon, then turned to Jack.
"What're you plannin to do next?"
"Guess I'll go back to Lightnin Flat, help my daddy through the winter."
"It's not winter yet."
Jack stared at him.
"Uh, you ever think about lookin for work on another ranch?"
Only every fuckin day. "I did, once."
Ennis looked away and down, scuffing his boot in the dust. Jack willed himself not to ask Ennis what he meant. He heard the 18-wheeler before he saw it, and wondered about John Steel. How would he fix his tire if he didn't come along with his jack? When the big truck came into view, Jack looked at Ennis but instead of sticking out his thumb he turned away from the road.
"Don't wanna go in a rig like that. A lotta those truckers are nuts."
Jack couldn't help grinning. "OK, you're the one with experience." Ennis quirked a little smile and for the first time that day Jack wanted to kiss him. He nudge-punched his arm instead.
Twenty minutes passed, during which Jack fretted to himself about John Steel while noticing that Ennis seemed antsy, too. Two cars came by in that interval; at the first one, Ennis turned away to take a leak so Jack didn't put out his thumb. At the second one, Jack pretended to hear the call of nature as well. At last he heard the familiar rattle of the blacksmith's truck as the black speck on the horizon grew into a dot. He and Ennis lifted their heads as one and looked down the road.
The black truck chugged along at a steady rate until Jack could see the driver's black hat and broad face through the windshield. He put out his thumb and so did Ennis. As the pickup slowed down, he tried to compose himself. Remember, he's a perfect stranger. When the truck pulled up next to them, he saw that John Steel was flushed and dirty, his hands smeared with grime. Jack felt a rush of remorse, as though he'd let the man down by not keeping his daily appointment to deliver the jack he needed.
"I wish you boys had been looking for a ride five miles back. I had a flat tire and my jack was broken," he sighed. "How far are you going?"
"Uh, Riv- well, next town to find a mechanic," Ennis replied.
"Alright then."
Ennis opened the door and Jack saw him hesitate. It was a tight squeeze for three men. He was sure Ennis was debating whether to sit in the middle or next to the door. Since he knew this man already, Jack decided to spare Ennis having to make the decision and moved to get in. But Ennis startled him by sliding in first. Jack climbed in after him and shut the door, hearing a familiar creak as he did so. Ennis' arm and shoulder pushed against his and he relaxed into the warm pressure. He let his thigh rub against Ennis', but Ennis closed his legs.
"Why do you need a mechanic?" asked John Steel.
"We just came down from herdin sheep all summer," Jack replied, "and my truck won't start. It's exactly the same model as this one, matter a fact."
"1950 GMC?"
"Yeah, and it's a piece a... it's in pretty bad shape."
"It's probably the carburator. That is usually the trouble with mine."
Jack looked at Ennis and saw red creeping up his neck. He pondered this.
"There is probably a garage in Dubois, about 10 miles from here," said the driver.
"That'll be fine," Jack said dully. He felt Ennis shift next to him, and noticed he was squeezing the knuckles of his left hand with his right.
"I herded sheep up there with my cousin in nineteen forty seven. But we didn't come down until the end of September."
"Storm came up and we had ta bring 'em down early," Jack replied. Was that the thirtieth time he'd said that?
"We lost a whole month's pay so we were thinkin a lookin for some work on a ranch," Ennis said.
The sun crashed into the mountain and exploded; the wind roared across the plain and spun the truck around. That was the only way Jack could explain the heat flaming through him and the dizziness that suddenly hit him. Because how could one simple word - we! - make him feel this way? They were so close together in the cramped cab that their hat brims were touching. They made a wiffing sound as Jack turned his head to stare at Ennis, who kept his eyes fixed on the road though the corner of his mouth was twitching upwards.
"My cousin's ranch needs help."
Jack heard John Steel saying something about the isolation of the ranch and its distance from Riverton, but he couldn't concentrate on his words. Why hadn't Ennis ever proposed finding work together before? Then Ennis was speaking and Jack couldn't believe his ears.
"Most a the ranches I worked on were raisin Red Angus. I like 'em better 'n Herefords, they're smarter."
He and Ennis had debated the merits of Black Baldies and Herefords but he'd never once mentioned working around Red Angus. But John Steel nodded and said "That's what we have. If you are interested, I can take you there now. I will be coming back this way on Monday if you change your mind."
"You work there, too?" Jack asked.
"I live there but I don't like to work with animals in herds. I prefer horses but not to ride them. Can you guess what I do?" he asked them.
"You're a blacksmith," they said in unison.
"How did you know that?" he asked suspiciously.
"Because your right arm..." Jack began, "...is bigger than your left," finished Ennis. They looked at one another in surprise.
He lifted both hands from the wheel and held them aloft, letting his unbuttoned cuffs slide to his elbows. "I never noticed that," he said with a laugh. "You are both very observant."
"That your social security number on your arm?" Ennis chuckled.
He had dropped his hands back on the steering wheel but his forearms remained exposed. Jack stared at the tattoo and felt his mouth slowly go dry and a heavy stone grow in his chest. Then the weight sank to his stomach and his mouth suddenly flooded with saliva as a memory began to paint itself into his mind, the rough outlines building up into gray forms: his uncle Harold sitting in their kitchen when he was a boy, telling stories about the war, and then the war's end, of the stench of stacks of corpses rotting in the summer sun, the walking skeletons, the... until Jack's mother shushed him. He'd taken Jack aside on his last day and talked to him in an urgent whisper, this time showing him photographs that he slid from his wallet. Then his uncle had pulled him close, hugging his shoulders with one strong arm, and kissed him on the forehead, his stubbly chin scraping the bridge of Jack's nose. "Never forget," he'd murmured, "that it can be much worse."
Jack stared straight ahead and felt Ennis looking at him, then realized he'd reached over and seized his friend's hand, gripping it convulsively. Ennis tried to tug away but Jack held fast. Ennis squeezed his hand and Jack knew it signaled what's wrong? He returned the pressure and hoped Ennis understood that he meant tell you later.
John Steel fished out a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. Jack watched him one-handedly extract one and light it with a match, then suck in a lungful of smoke as though it was all he lived on.
"No, that is my social insecurity number," he answered as he exhaled. "It reminds me of who I really am."
Don't worry, there will be no flashbacks or gory details in the next chapter, which is the last one.