TITLE: TILL DEATH DO US PART...part 17
TITLE: TILL DEATH DO US PART...part 17
AUTHOR: VNapier
PAIRING: Ennis/Jack
RATING: R - NC17
FEEDBACK: Always. E mail me at BBMFAN@ZOOMINTERNET.NET
DISCLAIMERS: Standard disclaimers. The characters are not mine, but the story is.
SUMMARY: This is a sequel to 'If Anyone Can Show Just Cause, Speak Now...'.
That story can be found on my livejournal at http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com
part 1 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/13102.html
part 2 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/13949.html
part 3 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/14291.html
part 4 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/14778.html
part 5 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/15196.html
part 6 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/15526.html
part 7 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/15861.html
part 8 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/16127.html
part 9 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/16794.html
part 10 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/17271.html
part 11 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/17408.html
part 12 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/18112.html
part 13 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/18472.html
part 14 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/19199.html
part 15 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/19506.html
part 16 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/19958.html
"Horsey."
Startled, Ennis turned, only to find himself looking over Buttermilk's back at an empty barn. He couldn't see anyone, but he knew he had heard someone say something. About the time he was sure he was hearing things, a woman's voice called from outside the barn door.
"Glen!"
The little boy ran from behind some stacked bales of hay that had initially obscured him from Ennis' view, his little four-year old legs working their hardest to get him hardly anywhere very fast, while the cast on his arm threatened to make him teeter off balance with every step. "Mommy! Horsey!"
Glen reached the door about the same time as his mother walked in. Delilah bent over and scooped her son into her arms with an ease that seemed out of place for someone so small. Seemed right enough, though, for a mother who loved her son enough to go up against the world, and even her own mother, to leave a husband who was hurting them.
'Luv makes ya strong in ways ya never knew ya could be.'
Jack's voice put the fire in Ennis' cheeks, and he turned away, hoping to remain unnoticed by mother and son. Ever since he had talked to Jack those precious few nights ago, he had been feeling strange inside. Like saying those words had been the best and the worst thing he could have ever done.
Mostly, though, he felt stronger, like he could stand up to the world for the first time in his life. Feeling and doing were two different things, but it was still a good feeling for someone who had never figured he had a right to be anything before.
"Hello."
"Ma'am," he said cautiously. Her crisp tone brought back that old familiar feeling.
After lowering Glen to his feet, she gave him a tender swat to the behind, not a whooping kind of slap, but that loving kind that momma's gave their kids to let them know they're loved. "Miz Samantha jus' took a batch of cookies out of the oven. I'll bet there's one in there with your name on it."
The little boy squealed and forgot all about the horses. Delilah watched from the barn door for a few minutes, long enough to for Glen to make it to the main house, before turning towards Ennis. She stared at him for a good long time, long enough to have Ennis' fears doing a hoedown on his newly-discovered strength.
"I heard what yer brother said when you two was fighting," she said without preamble.
Old habits died hard. With the doorway blocked, Ennis focused his full attention on hiding in the act of grooming Buttermilk. His strokes with the brush were firm and deliberate along the silky coat. Too deliberate, and Buttermilk turned, his teeth grabbing Ennis' sleeve in an effort to ward off the comfort that had turned uncomfortable for reasons a horse could never fathom.
Ennis mumbled an apology to the disgruntled animal, setting the brush aside and gently stroking the magnificent head from ears to nose. He tried to ignore the rustle of straw and the sound of approaching footsteps, that stopped just beyond the stall door.
"What he said about you, was it true?"
A trickle of sweat dripped down the side of his face. He wasn't queer. He wasn't queer. He wasn't queer. He wanted so much to hear Jack's voice, telling him what a damn queer liar he was, but he heard nothing but his own breathing and the soft crunching of Buttermilk eating hay. Yet, the words remained glued to his tongue, with neither denial nor affirmation being issued.
"Cain't figure it out. How could a man like you be one a them? You was so polite and nice ta me an' Glen. Don't make no sense."
Queers were bad. Queers were evil. That's what everyone thought, even women that was seen as being bad because they run out on their abusive husbands.
"I'm askin' ya to stay away from Glen."
Queers were perverts who preyed on innocent children. "Wouldn't never hurt no kid," he said with total conviction.
Delilah's eyes were filled with fear and confusion. The green seemed to change colors as he watched, getting lighter one second, and darker the next, before she bowed her head. "I...I...don't know. I thought you was so nice, an' Glen sure likes you. Thought maybe...but, I cain't take that chance. Ain't said nothin' ta C.C. about what I heard in Casper," she lifted her head and her face expression all protective mother. "Won't, neither, as long as ya stay away from Glen."
"Why didn't ya tell yer brother?" Ennis flinched at his own words, but at the same time, he was relieved to have said them.
"'cause you...'cause..." Delilah struggled to find the words, and then gave up. "I don't know, okay? I just ain't an' I won't, long as ya stay away from my son. He's gonna face 'nough from this world because a what I done. He don't need ta be gettin' turned inta.... No one's gonna hurt him no more, ya hear me? No one!" Without waiting for a reply, she turned and ran from the barn.
Ennis sighed and leaned back against the stall wall. Buttermilk stomped his foot at an annoying fly, but kept on munching contentedly at his hay. His heart was pounding inside his chest, so hard that it hurt.
Nothing had changed with C.C. since the trip to Casper, if anything, the no-nonsense foreman seemed even more respectful of him, but those fears that was bred in his insides by a ditch over ten years ago hadn't been willing to let him be. At least he could find some peace in knowing for sure that nothing had been said...yet.
'Ya can't run forever, Cowboy.'
It wasn't that long ago that running would have been his first instinct. However, things were different now and the truth was that Ennis didn't want to run, didn't even see running as the only way anymore. The problem was the he couldn't see anything else he could do, either. If Delilah decided to tell what she'd heard, he was a dead man.
Maybe not from C.C. or the Delaney's - they'd just fire him and be done with it - but a couple of the older ranch hands reminded him of his daddy. Too much so. They were the ones who had been saying that C.C. ought to do right and send his sister straight back to her man. There was no room for compromise in their minds. If she had been a proper wife, her man wouldn't have had to smack her back in line. As for the boy, that was her fault, too. A few more smacks she might be a proper mother, too.
Their words had brought on images of Jack, a little boy lying in a bathroom floor and being pissed on, an older boy being told he wasn't no good for nothing, a near man being broke little by little by the iron will of a man who could not dream and would not stand for anyone else to, either. It had taken all of Ennis' willpower not to beat the shit out of them for saying those things.
Or maybe it was his fear that had kept him standing back in the shadows, listening, but not doing. Maybe it was the fear of being in the spotlight, of people looking too hard at him, of people seeing what he was, that kept him silent.
'Ain't no one can tell jus' by looking at ya.'
Jack's voice wasn't saying anything that Ennis hadn't already tried to convince himself. Last night he had spent nearly an hour in front of the mirror in the bathroom, the time flying by without him even knowing it, trying to see if there was something that made him look queer. He hadn't seen anything, but his fears kept telling him that he couldn't see it because he was queer. If he drew too much attention to himself, a real man would be able to see what he was.
'Luv ya, Darlin'.'
The wave of contentment that washed over him just remembering the last three words he had heard from Jack's real voice was something he would never lose. No one had ever said they loved him, except his momma...and Alma. Ennis sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth, crushing it until the hurt made him stop.
Lately, Alma had been worming her way into his thoughts. He honestly hoped she was doing okay, but at the same time, he felt guilty for not really caring if she was or not. She wasn't his to worry about anymore, but she would be, if Jack hadn't rescued him.
Alma was his first, kiss that is. Nothing close to what that first kiss with Jack had been like, but she had tried, in her awkward shy girlish way, waiting for him to take the lead, and neither of them knowing why he wouldn't. He should feel worse about leaving her at the alter, but the only thing for which he could feel any real was over how he hard he had fought against Jack.
What if K.E. hadn't done what he done? What if Jack had never said whatever it was that got K.E. to knowing he was queer? Would there have been the panicked need to get away, and if not, would he have ended up back in that church, married to Alma, and most likely having her in the family way by now?
Ennis thought hard on Alma, on her tiny little body, on how soft she felt under the proper clothes she always wore. He couldn't say that he had never been aroused when he touched her, when he thought on how their wedding night would be, but he could say it had never made him feel so alive and totally out of control like when he was whenever he touched Jack. Hell, just thinking on Jack got him more riled up than anything he'd felt with Alma, not even that time she had put his hand on her breast and let him know that she would be willing, if he wanted to jump the gun just a bit, and looking both please and put out when he had told her he was willing to wait until it was proper.
With a pensive shake of his head, Ennis left Buttermilk's stall, giving the gelding a soft pat on the rump as he walked by. He didn't want to think on Alma anymore. Wasn't no point in it. There weren't no going back, not now. Was a time when he thought maybe there was, when she might have been able to forgive him and he could stand by the promises he made to her before Brokeback, before Jack, that he could just forget about Jack and do what was expected of him. There was a time, but that time was no more.
Unknowingly, it was little Glen that put the final nail in that coffin, although he had been mostly ready to lay to rest for a good while. A man married a woman, he was supposed to do right by her, put a roof over her head and provide food for her to cook, and give her lots a babies to be all motherly to. Mostly, though, he was supposed to love her and cherish her and do the same for the babies she gave him.
For the first time ever, he genuinely and without reservation sent up a prayer of thanks for Jack showing up when he did. Another hour and it would have been too late. Another hour and his feet would have been stuck with what he got, his feet on a road where he would have made babies that would grow up never knowing the security of loving parents. He might could have been happy with Alma, but he knew even as he took his place beside her in front of that preacher, that he would never love her. Not like a man was supposed to love a wife, and that was no way for kids to grow up.
"Evenin', del Mar."
"Sir." Ennis acknowledged the man in charge. Mr. Delaney was a force around those parts, but he seldom came down to the barn without a reason.
"C.C. tells me that old mare had to be put down."
"Yes, Sir. Left knee was busted clean. Shoulder was tore up, too."
"Damn gophers," Delaney cursed. "I remember my grandfather talking about a stallion he had. Said he was the best piece a horseflesh ever foaled. Lost him to a gopher hole. Only been with a few mares before that." Delaney nodded towards the stall Ennis had just vacated. "That buckskin you been riding is from his line. So was that mare ya had ta put down."
"Real sorry 'bout that," Ennis apologized. "Didn't see no other choice."
Mr. Delaney smiled. "Don't worry, Son. I ain't here ta question your judgement."
Ennis relaxed. He had only talked to the ranch owner once before, and he was nervous about his unexpected appearance, especially so close on the heels of the unsettling encounter with Delilah.
"Truth is, I wanted to talk to you. This mess with Smitty has my boy real tore up. They been friends since they were just kids. Best friends. This ain't been easy on Dennis, but I reckon it's been harder on you, losin' your only brother like that. Reckon I'm a piss-poor excuse of a boss for not checking up on ya personally.
"No, Sir, you ain't that." Ennis didn't know what else to say in the face of such an unprecedented event. C.C. had been more than generous with giving him the time off to go to Casper to see Mary, even though Ennis had wished he had never gone. Hadn't pushed him for answers, either, when Ennis was at the ranch working the day his brother was laid to rest. For all of this Ennis had been grateful, but he never expected the big boss man to think he owed some hired cowboy any preferential treatment.
"Feel bad, just the same. Reckon you've got some family matters that ain't no one's business but yours, but I just wanted to let you know that if things change, if you need some time off for dealing with them, you just tell C.C. I told him you got some time coming, if you need it."
"Thank you, Sir," Ennis mumbled through his extreme ill ease. Thoughts of Rich sitting in that motel office, not knowing anything about the man who was more his son than he had been to his real father, spurred Ennis' mouth into action. "Mr. Delaney?"
The older man looked at him. "Yes?"
"Don't mean no offense, but I was wonderin' if ya know anything about what's gonna happen ta Smitty." Realizing that he probably sounded like a vulture going after the bones of a man looking for satisfaction that the one who wronged him was being punished, Ennis hastened to explain. "The old man that runs the motel out on highway 89, he's real close ta Smitty. Ain't been able to find out nothin'. Thought maybe I could pass on something that would make 'im feel better." He didn't think he had the right to say that Smitty's face was weighing on his mind, too.
Mr. Delaney studied Ennis carefully, and took his time doing it. By the time he spoke, Ennis was so uptight he nearly jumped out of his boots.
"Your a strange man, del Mar. I pride myself on being a pretty good judge of character, and I don't see any hate in you, even though you got every right to have a heap a hate for Smitty."
"Just askin' fer Rich," Ennis lied.
"Still, your asking, and that says something about that kind of man you are. C.C. was right. He said you were young, but that you've got a good head on your shoulders, and a fair mind. As for Smitty..." Mr. Delaney just shook his head. "Don't know what's going on in that man's head. Won't say nothing to defend himself. Nothing at all. Only thing he's been saying is that he done it and he'd do it again if he had to. Dennis went down last weekend, but Smitty wouldn't see him. Dennis saw the D.A., though. D.A. said Smitty's pled guilty. Doesn't want a trial."
"Rest a his life is gonna be a long time ta spend in jail," Ennis thought with genuine sadness.
"The shooting took place in a jail, and with Smitty being an officer and smuggling in a gun...they D.A. said it was premeditated and he's charged Smitty with a capital crime. Smitty's going to be gassed over this."
'If my daddy'd been killed like he was fer any other reason than bein' a faggot, yer daddy woulda been gassed by the State a Wyomin'.'
Ennis recalled Smitty's own words of only a couple of weeks ago, although it seemed like a lifetime since that showdown in front of the motel.
'It ends here, Cowboy, one way'r the other.'
Smitty had said that on the same night, but he had been wrong. It hadn't ended there. The killing had continued two weeks later, down in Casper, when Smitty gunned down K.E. That wasn't the end, either. Now that the State of Wyoming was poised to join in taking revenge.
*** *** *** ***
"Dang fool, jus' like 'is daddy," Rich groused calmly.
Ennis sat at the small table in the motel office kitchen, a cup of coffee sat steaming in front of him. He had worried about Rich's reaction to the news about Smitty. He had debated over whether to even tell him or not, but ended up right here. Rich was needing to know the truth, good or bad. "Gonna get gassed if he don't say somethin'."
Rich looked up, his expression sad and resigned. "Better'n what he got facin' 'im in jail. Ain't a one a them convicts there 'cause they wanna be. Got put there by some lawman."
Was there anything about this situation that wasn't bad? While Sheridan County didn't have criminals under every stone, it was a good bet that at least one of the men Smitty would be in jail with would be someone he had arrested. Odds were the rest of the convicts wouldn't take to kindly to sharing their punishment with a lawman, no matter what he did to be in there with them.
"Wouldn't have this problem if he had jus' let it be. K.E. coulda jus' been shootin' 'is mouth off 'bout comin' up here."
A sad and haunted look dimmed Rich's already hopeless eyes. "Ain't no use in thinkin' on what cain't be no more. Yer brother ain't never gonna say nothin' ta no one no more, and Smitty's gonna die. Don't matter who does the killin'."
Ennis stared into his coffee, with its teaspoon of sugar mixed in. Just sweet enough, but mostly, a pleasant reminder of what he and Jack could be one day. "Used ta think that way on me an' Jack, that it couldn't never be. Nearly lost 'im. Woulda to, if he hadn't been fool enough ta do enough dream fer both a us."
Rich's hand came down on the table with a force that belayed his weakened appearance. "Ain't the same fuckin' thin', Boy! Yer daddy done this ta 'im!" Struggling to his feet, Rich stomped across the tiny kitchen as well as a man with a cane could. "Burcham fuckin' del Mar! Goddamn bastard couldn't be satisfied takin' Earl's life, murderin' him an' leavin' 'im ta rot in that ditch like 'e wasn't no better'n a damn varmint!"
In between breaths that were now ragged and labored, Rich continued his tirade. "Coulda jus' killed 'im, but no, had ta shame 'im, too! Had ta make 'im less'n a man! Had ta make 'im suffer, had ta-" The cane went flying across the room, smashing the window behind Ennis' head and causing the cowboy to duck to the side.
Then the fight went right out of the old man. In a voice weak and broke, he said to no one in particular. "Earl surely weren't no saint, but he weren't no animal, neither. Was a man. All man. All the time. Even when he was takin' it in the ass, 'e was a man. Was my man."
As if Ennis wasn't even there, Rich sighed and shuffled off into the bedroom. The bedsprings creaked when he laid down, and when Ennis looked in, Rich was laid out, still in his clothes, his breathing too ragged for him to be asleep.
A cold wind blew through the broken window, and Ennis went looking for something do a temporary patch. Tomorrow, he would ask for some of that time off that Mr. Delaney said was his. A trip to the hardware store and a couple of hours would be more than enough to get the window fixed. Fixing the damage his father had done in the name of hate was something that Ennis didn't think could be done.
Out back, in the laundry room, he found an old cardboard box that could be cut down to size with his pocketknife. A little more digging turned up a roll of half-used duck tape. Not the best solution, but enough to keep most of the cold out through the night. On his way back in, he retrieved the cane, leaning it against the wall just inside the bedroom door before heading for the kitchen.
While he worked on the window, so many things that he had never considered before began wandering through his brain. How he'd often wondered if his father had been part of it, but never once considered what would have happened if his father had been arrested for it. How, as horrible a sight it had been for him, it had been worse for Earl having to die through it. Not just the being killed, or being killed hard, but being killed wrong. They didn't just beat and drag him to death, they humiliated him, took away his manhood for all to see, including his only son.
'Bible says, "Pride cometh before the fall", Boy. Don't ya never git ta thinkin' yer good 'nough. Ain't no man never good 'nough that he can't be better.'
Disgust filled his mouth with the putrid taste of bile as his father's words rang in his ears once again. Not only had his father been a bigot, he was a hypocrite, too. He wielded his words like a sword, cutting down his own son and leaving him too afraid to find any kind of satisfaction in a job well done, but not heeding them at all when it came to his own sorry existence.
Wasn't it pride that made Burcham del Mar think that he was better than a couple a old faggots ranched up together? Wasn't it pride that made him think that he had the right to take God's judgment into his own hands? What made Ennis sick to his stomach was thinking on how he had listened to the man, had looked up to him, had respected him, had damn near ruined his own life because of him.
Before leaving, Ennis checked in on Rich. Even from the kitchen he had heard the loud snoring, so he used the utmost care when he pulled the blanket from the foot of the bed over the sleeping man. The patch on the window would keep the worst of the wind out, but wouldn't do much to keep out the cold.
TBC...
AUTHOR: VNapier
PAIRING: Ennis/Jack
RATING: R - NC17
FEEDBACK: Always. E mail me at BBMFAN@ZOOMINTERNET.NET
DISCLAIMERS: Standard disclaimers. The characters are not mine, but the story is.
SUMMARY: This is a sequel to 'If Anyone Can Show Just Cause, Speak Now...'.
That story can be found on my livejournal at http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com
part 1 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/13102.html
part 2 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/13949.html
part 3 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/14291.html
part 4 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/14778.html
part 5 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/15196.html
part 6 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/15526.html
part 7 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/15861.html
part 8 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/16127.html
part 9 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/16794.html
part 10 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/17271.html
part 11 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/17408.html
part 12 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/18112.html
part 13 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/18472.html
part 14 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/19199.html
part 15 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/19506.html
part 16 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/19958.html
"Horsey."
Startled, Ennis turned, only to find himself looking over Buttermilk's back at an empty barn. He couldn't see anyone, but he knew he had heard someone say something. About the time he was sure he was hearing things, a woman's voice called from outside the barn door.
"Glen!"
The little boy ran from behind some stacked bales of hay that had initially obscured him from Ennis' view, his little four-year old legs working their hardest to get him hardly anywhere very fast, while the cast on his arm threatened to make him teeter off balance with every step. "Mommy! Horsey!"
Glen reached the door about the same time as his mother walked in. Delilah bent over and scooped her son into her arms with an ease that seemed out of place for someone so small. Seemed right enough, though, for a mother who loved her son enough to go up against the world, and even her own mother, to leave a husband who was hurting them.
'Luv makes ya strong in ways ya never knew ya could be.'
Jack's voice put the fire in Ennis' cheeks, and he turned away, hoping to remain unnoticed by mother and son. Ever since he had talked to Jack those precious few nights ago, he had been feeling strange inside. Like saying those words had been the best and the worst thing he could have ever done.
Mostly, though, he felt stronger, like he could stand up to the world for the first time in his life. Feeling and doing were two different things, but it was still a good feeling for someone who had never figured he had a right to be anything before.
"Hello."
"Ma'am," he said cautiously. Her crisp tone brought back that old familiar feeling.
After lowering Glen to his feet, she gave him a tender swat to the behind, not a whooping kind of slap, but that loving kind that momma's gave their kids to let them know they're loved. "Miz Samantha jus' took a batch of cookies out of the oven. I'll bet there's one in there with your name on it."
The little boy squealed and forgot all about the horses. Delilah watched from the barn door for a few minutes, long enough to for Glen to make it to the main house, before turning towards Ennis. She stared at him for a good long time, long enough to have Ennis' fears doing a hoedown on his newly-discovered strength.
"I heard what yer brother said when you two was fighting," she said without preamble.
Old habits died hard. With the doorway blocked, Ennis focused his full attention on hiding in the act of grooming Buttermilk. His strokes with the brush were firm and deliberate along the silky coat. Too deliberate, and Buttermilk turned, his teeth grabbing Ennis' sleeve in an effort to ward off the comfort that had turned uncomfortable for reasons a horse could never fathom.
Ennis mumbled an apology to the disgruntled animal, setting the brush aside and gently stroking the magnificent head from ears to nose. He tried to ignore the rustle of straw and the sound of approaching footsteps, that stopped just beyond the stall door.
"What he said about you, was it true?"
A trickle of sweat dripped down the side of his face. He wasn't queer. He wasn't queer. He wasn't queer. He wanted so much to hear Jack's voice, telling him what a damn queer liar he was, but he heard nothing but his own breathing and the soft crunching of Buttermilk eating hay. Yet, the words remained glued to his tongue, with neither denial nor affirmation being issued.
"Cain't figure it out. How could a man like you be one a them? You was so polite and nice ta me an' Glen. Don't make no sense."
Queers were bad. Queers were evil. That's what everyone thought, even women that was seen as being bad because they run out on their abusive husbands.
"I'm askin' ya to stay away from Glen."
Queers were perverts who preyed on innocent children. "Wouldn't never hurt no kid," he said with total conviction.
Delilah's eyes were filled with fear and confusion. The green seemed to change colors as he watched, getting lighter one second, and darker the next, before she bowed her head. "I...I...don't know. I thought you was so nice, an' Glen sure likes you. Thought maybe...but, I cain't take that chance. Ain't said nothin' ta C.C. about what I heard in Casper," she lifted her head and her face expression all protective mother. "Won't, neither, as long as ya stay away from Glen."
"Why didn't ya tell yer brother?" Ennis flinched at his own words, but at the same time, he was relieved to have said them.
"'cause you...'cause..." Delilah struggled to find the words, and then gave up. "I don't know, okay? I just ain't an' I won't, long as ya stay away from my son. He's gonna face 'nough from this world because a what I done. He don't need ta be gettin' turned inta.... No one's gonna hurt him no more, ya hear me? No one!" Without waiting for a reply, she turned and ran from the barn.
Ennis sighed and leaned back against the stall wall. Buttermilk stomped his foot at an annoying fly, but kept on munching contentedly at his hay. His heart was pounding inside his chest, so hard that it hurt.
Nothing had changed with C.C. since the trip to Casper, if anything, the no-nonsense foreman seemed even more respectful of him, but those fears that was bred in his insides by a ditch over ten years ago hadn't been willing to let him be. At least he could find some peace in knowing for sure that nothing had been said...yet.
'Ya can't run forever, Cowboy.'
It wasn't that long ago that running would have been his first instinct. However, things were different now and the truth was that Ennis didn't want to run, didn't even see running as the only way anymore. The problem was the he couldn't see anything else he could do, either. If Delilah decided to tell what she'd heard, he was a dead man.
Maybe not from C.C. or the Delaney's - they'd just fire him and be done with it - but a couple of the older ranch hands reminded him of his daddy. Too much so. They were the ones who had been saying that C.C. ought to do right and send his sister straight back to her man. There was no room for compromise in their minds. If she had been a proper wife, her man wouldn't have had to smack her back in line. As for the boy, that was her fault, too. A few more smacks she might be a proper mother, too.
Their words had brought on images of Jack, a little boy lying in a bathroom floor and being pissed on, an older boy being told he wasn't no good for nothing, a near man being broke little by little by the iron will of a man who could not dream and would not stand for anyone else to, either. It had taken all of Ennis' willpower not to beat the shit out of them for saying those things.
Or maybe it was his fear that had kept him standing back in the shadows, listening, but not doing. Maybe it was the fear of being in the spotlight, of people looking too hard at him, of people seeing what he was, that kept him silent.
'Ain't no one can tell jus' by looking at ya.'
Jack's voice wasn't saying anything that Ennis hadn't already tried to convince himself. Last night he had spent nearly an hour in front of the mirror in the bathroom, the time flying by without him even knowing it, trying to see if there was something that made him look queer. He hadn't seen anything, but his fears kept telling him that he couldn't see it because he was queer. If he drew too much attention to himself, a real man would be able to see what he was.
'Luv ya, Darlin'.'
The wave of contentment that washed over him just remembering the last three words he had heard from Jack's real voice was something he would never lose. No one had ever said they loved him, except his momma...and Alma. Ennis sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth, crushing it until the hurt made him stop.
Lately, Alma had been worming her way into his thoughts. He honestly hoped she was doing okay, but at the same time, he felt guilty for not really caring if she was or not. She wasn't his to worry about anymore, but she would be, if Jack hadn't rescued him.
Alma was his first, kiss that is. Nothing close to what that first kiss with Jack had been like, but she had tried, in her awkward shy girlish way, waiting for him to take the lead, and neither of them knowing why he wouldn't. He should feel worse about leaving her at the alter, but the only thing for which he could feel any real was over how he hard he had fought against Jack.
What if K.E. hadn't done what he done? What if Jack had never said whatever it was that got K.E. to knowing he was queer? Would there have been the panicked need to get away, and if not, would he have ended up back in that church, married to Alma, and most likely having her in the family way by now?
Ennis thought hard on Alma, on her tiny little body, on how soft she felt under the proper clothes she always wore. He couldn't say that he had never been aroused when he touched her, when he thought on how their wedding night would be, but he could say it had never made him feel so alive and totally out of control like when he was whenever he touched Jack. Hell, just thinking on Jack got him more riled up than anything he'd felt with Alma, not even that time she had put his hand on her breast and let him know that she would be willing, if he wanted to jump the gun just a bit, and looking both please and put out when he had told her he was willing to wait until it was proper.
With a pensive shake of his head, Ennis left Buttermilk's stall, giving the gelding a soft pat on the rump as he walked by. He didn't want to think on Alma anymore. Wasn't no point in it. There weren't no going back, not now. Was a time when he thought maybe there was, when she might have been able to forgive him and he could stand by the promises he made to her before Brokeback, before Jack, that he could just forget about Jack and do what was expected of him. There was a time, but that time was no more.
Unknowingly, it was little Glen that put the final nail in that coffin, although he had been mostly ready to lay to rest for a good while. A man married a woman, he was supposed to do right by her, put a roof over her head and provide food for her to cook, and give her lots a babies to be all motherly to. Mostly, though, he was supposed to love her and cherish her and do the same for the babies she gave him.
For the first time ever, he genuinely and without reservation sent up a prayer of thanks for Jack showing up when he did. Another hour and it would have been too late. Another hour and his feet would have been stuck with what he got, his feet on a road where he would have made babies that would grow up never knowing the security of loving parents. He might could have been happy with Alma, but he knew even as he took his place beside her in front of that preacher, that he would never love her. Not like a man was supposed to love a wife, and that was no way for kids to grow up.
"Evenin', del Mar."
"Sir." Ennis acknowledged the man in charge. Mr. Delaney was a force around those parts, but he seldom came down to the barn without a reason.
"C.C. tells me that old mare had to be put down."
"Yes, Sir. Left knee was busted clean. Shoulder was tore up, too."
"Damn gophers," Delaney cursed. "I remember my grandfather talking about a stallion he had. Said he was the best piece a horseflesh ever foaled. Lost him to a gopher hole. Only been with a few mares before that." Delaney nodded towards the stall Ennis had just vacated. "That buckskin you been riding is from his line. So was that mare ya had ta put down."
"Real sorry 'bout that," Ennis apologized. "Didn't see no other choice."
Mr. Delaney smiled. "Don't worry, Son. I ain't here ta question your judgement."
Ennis relaxed. He had only talked to the ranch owner once before, and he was nervous about his unexpected appearance, especially so close on the heels of the unsettling encounter with Delilah.
"Truth is, I wanted to talk to you. This mess with Smitty has my boy real tore up. They been friends since they were just kids. Best friends. This ain't been easy on Dennis, but I reckon it's been harder on you, losin' your only brother like that. Reckon I'm a piss-poor excuse of a boss for not checking up on ya personally.
"No, Sir, you ain't that." Ennis didn't know what else to say in the face of such an unprecedented event. C.C. had been more than generous with giving him the time off to go to Casper to see Mary, even though Ennis had wished he had never gone. Hadn't pushed him for answers, either, when Ennis was at the ranch working the day his brother was laid to rest. For all of this Ennis had been grateful, but he never expected the big boss man to think he owed some hired cowboy any preferential treatment.
"Feel bad, just the same. Reckon you've got some family matters that ain't no one's business but yours, but I just wanted to let you know that if things change, if you need some time off for dealing with them, you just tell C.C. I told him you got some time coming, if you need it."
"Thank you, Sir," Ennis mumbled through his extreme ill ease. Thoughts of Rich sitting in that motel office, not knowing anything about the man who was more his son than he had been to his real father, spurred Ennis' mouth into action. "Mr. Delaney?"
The older man looked at him. "Yes?"
"Don't mean no offense, but I was wonderin' if ya know anything about what's gonna happen ta Smitty." Realizing that he probably sounded like a vulture going after the bones of a man looking for satisfaction that the one who wronged him was being punished, Ennis hastened to explain. "The old man that runs the motel out on highway 89, he's real close ta Smitty. Ain't been able to find out nothin'. Thought maybe I could pass on something that would make 'im feel better." He didn't think he had the right to say that Smitty's face was weighing on his mind, too.
Mr. Delaney studied Ennis carefully, and took his time doing it. By the time he spoke, Ennis was so uptight he nearly jumped out of his boots.
"Your a strange man, del Mar. I pride myself on being a pretty good judge of character, and I don't see any hate in you, even though you got every right to have a heap a hate for Smitty."
"Just askin' fer Rich," Ennis lied.
"Still, your asking, and that says something about that kind of man you are. C.C. was right. He said you were young, but that you've got a good head on your shoulders, and a fair mind. As for Smitty..." Mr. Delaney just shook his head. "Don't know what's going on in that man's head. Won't say nothing to defend himself. Nothing at all. Only thing he's been saying is that he done it and he'd do it again if he had to. Dennis went down last weekend, but Smitty wouldn't see him. Dennis saw the D.A., though. D.A. said Smitty's pled guilty. Doesn't want a trial."
"Rest a his life is gonna be a long time ta spend in jail," Ennis thought with genuine sadness.
"The shooting took place in a jail, and with Smitty being an officer and smuggling in a gun...they D.A. said it was premeditated and he's charged Smitty with a capital crime. Smitty's going to be gassed over this."
'If my daddy'd been killed like he was fer any other reason than bein' a faggot, yer daddy woulda been gassed by the State a Wyomin'.'
Ennis recalled Smitty's own words of only a couple of weeks ago, although it seemed like a lifetime since that showdown in front of the motel.
'It ends here, Cowboy, one way'r the other.'
Smitty had said that on the same night, but he had been wrong. It hadn't ended there. The killing had continued two weeks later, down in Casper, when Smitty gunned down K.E. That wasn't the end, either. Now that the State of Wyoming was poised to join in taking revenge.
*** *** *** ***
"Dang fool, jus' like 'is daddy," Rich groused calmly.
Ennis sat at the small table in the motel office kitchen, a cup of coffee sat steaming in front of him. He had worried about Rich's reaction to the news about Smitty. He had debated over whether to even tell him or not, but ended up right here. Rich was needing to know the truth, good or bad. "Gonna get gassed if he don't say somethin'."
Rich looked up, his expression sad and resigned. "Better'n what he got facin' 'im in jail. Ain't a one a them convicts there 'cause they wanna be. Got put there by some lawman."
Was there anything about this situation that wasn't bad? While Sheridan County didn't have criminals under every stone, it was a good bet that at least one of the men Smitty would be in jail with would be someone he had arrested. Odds were the rest of the convicts wouldn't take to kindly to sharing their punishment with a lawman, no matter what he did to be in there with them.
"Wouldn't have this problem if he had jus' let it be. K.E. coulda jus' been shootin' 'is mouth off 'bout comin' up here."
A sad and haunted look dimmed Rich's already hopeless eyes. "Ain't no use in thinkin' on what cain't be no more. Yer brother ain't never gonna say nothin' ta no one no more, and Smitty's gonna die. Don't matter who does the killin'."
Ennis stared into his coffee, with its teaspoon of sugar mixed in. Just sweet enough, but mostly, a pleasant reminder of what he and Jack could be one day. "Used ta think that way on me an' Jack, that it couldn't never be. Nearly lost 'im. Woulda to, if he hadn't been fool enough ta do enough dream fer both a us."
Rich's hand came down on the table with a force that belayed his weakened appearance. "Ain't the same fuckin' thin', Boy! Yer daddy done this ta 'im!" Struggling to his feet, Rich stomped across the tiny kitchen as well as a man with a cane could. "Burcham fuckin' del Mar! Goddamn bastard couldn't be satisfied takin' Earl's life, murderin' him an' leavin' 'im ta rot in that ditch like 'e wasn't no better'n a damn varmint!"
In between breaths that were now ragged and labored, Rich continued his tirade. "Coulda jus' killed 'im, but no, had ta shame 'im, too! Had ta make 'im less'n a man! Had ta make 'im suffer, had ta-" The cane went flying across the room, smashing the window behind Ennis' head and causing the cowboy to duck to the side.
Then the fight went right out of the old man. In a voice weak and broke, he said to no one in particular. "Earl surely weren't no saint, but he weren't no animal, neither. Was a man. All man. All the time. Even when he was takin' it in the ass, 'e was a man. Was my man."
As if Ennis wasn't even there, Rich sighed and shuffled off into the bedroom. The bedsprings creaked when he laid down, and when Ennis looked in, Rich was laid out, still in his clothes, his breathing too ragged for him to be asleep.
A cold wind blew through the broken window, and Ennis went looking for something do a temporary patch. Tomorrow, he would ask for some of that time off that Mr. Delaney said was his. A trip to the hardware store and a couple of hours would be more than enough to get the window fixed. Fixing the damage his father had done in the name of hate was something that Ennis didn't think could be done.
Out back, in the laundry room, he found an old cardboard box that could be cut down to size with his pocketknife. A little more digging turned up a roll of half-used duck tape. Not the best solution, but enough to keep most of the cold out through the night. On his way back in, he retrieved the cane, leaning it against the wall just inside the bedroom door before heading for the kitchen.
While he worked on the window, so many things that he had never considered before began wandering through his brain. How he'd often wondered if his father had been part of it, but never once considered what would have happened if his father had been arrested for it. How, as horrible a sight it had been for him, it had been worse for Earl having to die through it. Not just the being killed, or being killed hard, but being killed wrong. They didn't just beat and drag him to death, they humiliated him, took away his manhood for all to see, including his only son.
'Bible says, "Pride cometh before the fall", Boy. Don't ya never git ta thinkin' yer good 'nough. Ain't no man never good 'nough that he can't be better.'
Disgust filled his mouth with the putrid taste of bile as his father's words rang in his ears once again. Not only had his father been a bigot, he was a hypocrite, too. He wielded his words like a sword, cutting down his own son and leaving him too afraid to find any kind of satisfaction in a job well done, but not heeding them at all when it came to his own sorry existence.
Wasn't it pride that made Burcham del Mar think that he was better than a couple a old faggots ranched up together? Wasn't it pride that made him think that he had the right to take God's judgment into his own hands? What made Ennis sick to his stomach was thinking on how he had listened to the man, had looked up to him, had respected him, had damn near ruined his own life because of him.
Before leaving, Ennis checked in on Rich. Even from the kitchen he had heard the loud snoring, so he used the utmost care when he pulled the blanket from the foot of the bed over the sleeping man. The patch on the window would keep the worst of the wind out, but wouldn't do much to keep out the cold.
TBC...