Ennis Del Mar
Ennis Del Mar - Part 1 of 3
Ennis DelMar has a corral around him that he cannot cross over, cannot crawl under, and cannot pass through. There ain't no gate, and no way out. It's almost like a big rubberband. He can stretch the sides, pushing with all his might at times, but he cannot break through. And when he tires, it will snap him back, landing him on his ass, and there he would be, drunk or sober, but there he would be. Yeah, the pasture always looked greener, but was it really?
Jack could come into Ennis's corral at the drop of a hat, and leave just as quickly. But Ennis could not. He sort of envied Jack, his mobility, how things have changed for him. Wishing now don't make it no different now. He remembered him and Jack were sort of like a couple of stallions in Ennis's corral, the last time they were together, sort of fought, sort of wondered why, would it be any different?
And if the dog had not stopped to take a shit, he would have caught the rabbit. If only one or the other had known...well, Ennis knows, if he had known.
If what I know tomorrow I had known yesterday, I would have done something different today.
Ennis sometimes wished he could end his life. Almost did the other day, head-crazed thinking about Jack, head-on collision, but killing innocent folks just because you ain't happy is a hell of a way to go. Might leave a fourteen year old
boy an orphan or something, and that bothered Ennis--no way to start living that way. But ninety and a tree could do the job.
Shit, well, Ennis has got a married daughter, and another one he suspects will be soon. They'll be needing help, and grandkids--but what the fuck will this old bastard do for them? And it wouldn't bring Jack back. Fuck.
He hadn't done right by Jack. But he's dead. He could have done better by Alma, and his kids. Somewhere along the line, he's gotta do it right.
Ennis's parents were killed in an auto accident when he was fourteen, and he never saw none of his grandparents, or other kin. Maybe an aunt and uncle had visited when he was four or five. Ennis knew you need family, or grow up alone and tough.
Ennis was now living with his daughter and her husband. It was an okay arrangement no one wanted to live with, and when Curt seemed a little growly, Alma Junior would say her husband has always been grouchy in the morning. Ennis knew better; one of these days Curt would punch him a good one, but Ennis wasn't sure if he would punch back, or not, or how hard.
Like last week. Ennis was having another bad dream, about Jack. Before dawn Ennis cried out "Why?" so loud that even the stars stopped shining for an instant.
A door opened and Alma Junior came to Ennis's door. She knocked, and her father pulled the covers over his nakedness, and whispered, "You want something?"
The door slowly opened and his daughter came in. She sat on the side of the bed, it was wet with sweat. Another nightmare, she asked, and Ennis guessed so. It was getting close to dawn and she retreated to the kitchen to start breakfast. Curt, well, as Alma Junior would say, he'll get over it.
Ennis knew he needed a place of his own. This wasn't going to work, no matter how much his daughter said it would.
Money came with work, and that was the problem; both hard to find and keep. He was cutting back on his drinking and smokes, but a man has got to live. An odd job here and there tided him over, and sometimes a little for his daughter--for the keep. But a tent would do Ennis just fine, at least until winter came.
It was time, Alma Junior decided, to corner her father, and get her father back on track. Curt had gone to work early in a stew and pissed; so he would not confront Ennis. Last night Ennis had another bad dream, as he called it, but most call a nightmare.
Breakfast, she called into his room, and he stirred, dressing and going to the kitchen. He sat while she poured coffee. No sense in offering food, he didn't eat much any more.
Daddy, she said, and yes darling, he replied. We are going to talk. About what? Jack! What do you know about Jack? Ennis began to rise from the chair, but Alma Junior grabbed the twelve inch butcher knife, and pressed it on his zipper. Ennis stopped, cold. He had just sharpened the knife the other day, and knew how sharp it was. And if it had been Alma Junior's mother holding that knife, he would be picking up the pieces off the floor right now.
He stood there, his butt just inches off the chair. He froze there, like taking a shit in the woods and the last turd taking its time to get out.
Junior, are you crazy? in a half-demanding tone.
Daddy, I love you, she answered and relaxed the knife from the zipper, and then on the table. Ennis reached for his cigarettes, and knowing the rules, smoke outside, rose.
Daddy, she spoke with her finger in his face, you get off that chair, and so help me I'll kick you in the ass so hard you'll find your asshole next Sunday on your way to church, and your balls the Saturday after going to the barber shop, and who knows if you'll ever find your cock.
Ennis wasn't sure what had happened to his daughter. She was a Christian woman, church-goer and all, and was this speaking in tongues, or something, he asked.
We are talking, or maybe you are just listening. Daddy, when Jack died, it tore you up, it's like a cancer in you, just eating away. I was so afraid my daddy was going to die too. Darling, I ain't going to die, yet, but think you shortened my years a little with your knife, and the tongue too. But, as she explained it to him, you sometimes got to use the language a man understands. Don't make it right, but Jesus will understand.
Alma Junior did most of the talking, and Ennis nodded, maybe agreeing, maybe not. And finally she said, we got to go to Texas, and you got to say good-bye to Jack Twist, the proper way, showing your respects, and to his widow.
I love my Daddy, and right or wrong, I still love him to pieces.
They hugged.
And one more little thing needed to be mentioned. Alma Junior had called Jack's wife, well, his widow, in Childress Texas, and she said we could come on down. You ain't going. She needed some help from Ennis to settle some matters. You ain't going. And Jack had left some things for Ennis.
I don't need nothing from Jack Twist. Daddy, they're small things, and we could go to his grave and put some flowers. You ain't going. And Daddy, you got to say good-bye the right way, in Texas, at the grave. You ain't going.
Alma Junior learned her horse trading from her daddy, but a good teacher never teaches their students everything. So, in this horse trade, Alma Junior was staying home. So was Ennis staying home, cause he didn't have the time or money or whatever.
Wait, she told Ennis, and left for her bedroom. She came back with a box, wrapped with paper and ribbons. Something Ennis seldom got, but she shoved it into his lap. She prodded, finally he began the slow process of removing the ribbons and paper, something he had seen his Ma do many times. Waste not.
Inside, I don't need none of this stuff. A new razor and blades--well can always use new blades, deodorant--never touched the stuff, tooth brush and paste--okay, pajamas--darling its been years, so take them back and get your money, maps, road maps, and opening one saw the heavy dark pencil marks showing the route. You ain't going.
And what's this? Money, shit girl, Ennis said then grabbed her hand, to see if the wedding band was still in place, but it weren't worth this kind of money.
He started counting it, but twenty dollar bills never added up the same way twice. Daddy, it's five hundred dollars, for the trip. And he knew this Christian girl wouldn't be selling it on the street.
The Lord provides, was all she said, and repeated it many, many times, for the disbeliever. But you ain't going. And why the hell didn't he provide a thousand?
Daddy, his widow needs your help. Help my eye. Jack always said, well never mind. She's a real nice lady, and we talked on the phone, she had been trying to get hold of you but couldn't find you. I called her and told her who I was, and she asked if the phone call was costing me money, and I said yes. And being a nice lady like she is, then took my phone number and called me back within seconds, and we must have talked an hour. On her phone bill.
And what was said? She needs your help to help settle some of Jack's affairs. And she wanted to meet Jack's good friend, fishing and hunting buddy. You ain't going and I ain't going...well, I'll think on it. I know, I am not going.
Alma Junior packed away the gift box, and the money, hoping that her father would change his mind, or think on, or just go.
Ennis found some work, but he kept wondering. Where she get that kind of money? And if Curt found out. Maybe its time he finds a place of his own, maybe New York City, shit....that will be the day.
That night he retired early after supper, and hoped for a good night's rest. But sleep did not come. Was it Jack that was punching his stomach every night, calling for him, or something, from the great beyond? Or, was it the guilt that Ennis felt. If he had known, but no one had known, or if they did, they didn't tell Ennis. Didn't tell Jack for that matter.
Well, Jack didn't get what he wanted, life, Ennis, the ranch, dreams come true. He didn't even get his ashes spread on Brokeback Mountain. Who the fuck should care where a little bit of ash goes?
Jack, if I promise you that I will go to Texas, can I get a good night's sleep tonight? But remember man, that's a big IF you're putting on my shoulders. The old truck may not make it, and price of gas today, yeah, I know...Alma Junior says the Lord will provide.
Ennis got a fair rest that night, and didn't wake no one with his restlessness in the night. No work today, but he had other plans. Darling, be home late tonight, but could you pack me a sandwich before I go. Yeah, I know baloney.
After breakfast and a quick shower he was off. To Brokeback Mountain. If Jack can't go to Brokeback, then Ennis would make sure some of Brokeback--maybe a bucket or so--would make it to Jack...in Texas, and also some to Lightning Flat,
why the fuck did they divide him up?
He grabbed a shovel, and the only bucket about that was empty was a wash tub, that'll do, but instead grabbed a couple of canvas bags. Maybe a small lodgepole pine, but Jack said it was miserable hot down there, and dry at times, and some one would have to keep it watered. Or, maybe some mountain flowers, but
most things don't live when they are taken away to strange places. Ennis, Jack, both should have known that.
He hitched the horse wagon and dumped the saddle in back. Then he went for the horse, and off to Brokeback. It's got to be done, a long time in the making. It was past noon when Ennis found one of their old camps. Nothing much left of the site, snow and wind and rain pretty much took everything away.
Ennis found a cigarette butt, and could have been his or Jack's. Nothing left on it to smoke. He shoveled the earth into the bags, and looked about for some plants that might make the journey. But he changed his mind on everything living, but did gather up some stones from the fire ring. There him and Jack,
and who knows who else, had spent the best time of the summer--that and the tent as well.
He got home late, and Alma Junior had kept some meatloaf and potatoes warm in the oven for him. He ate. And darling, I guess I'm going to Texas, and I'll pay back every dime of that money the Lord has provided...just as soon as I can. She shook her head, Daddy, the Lord don't need it back. It's a gift, not a loan. Whatever!
But first, I'll need to get a couple of used tires for the truck. Don't know if these will make it or not. And some oil and brake, tranny fluid. Lets see, quart oil every couple hundred miles, and how far you say this is? A thousand, then lets see, two hundred into a thousand goes...goes...goes. Five
times Daddy. Okay, five times, make it six for good measure, and about the same coming back.
The next day Ennis and the banker went shopping. He got what he needed, and felt he got a real good deal on the used tires, even if the tread didn't match. Alma Junior said she would make sandwiches and Ennis wanted popcorn to eat, and a cooler of Coke and ice, but no whiskey. Promise me daddy, no whiskey. Okay a promise...at least until I get back.
That night he went to bed early, but sleep came late. How many times, he asked himself, had he started to Texas, or Lightning Flat for that matter, had he started the journey, and after a mile or so, turned back. Except for that one trip to Lightning Flat, he never went back, and guessed he never would.
Fourteen hours, Jack use to say. Course he had a truck that would go faster, and with less checks for oil and water, and he drove crazy. But lets see, if I leave at six, and fourteen hours, that would be ... yeah that would be. Leave this figuring to the banker. Then he went to sleep.
That morning a real good shower, breakfast, and simple directions, make it to Cheyenne, which he had done a few times, then south past Denver, which he never had done before, and go until you hit New Mexico, but don't get that confused with Old Mexico, cause that ain't even in the United States, or at least old Miss Wilson use to say. Once in New Mexico, head east into Texas and find Childress. Simple.
Alma Junior gave her daddy the maps and sandwiches and popcorn, and the money, and keep it in a safe place. And the address and phone number of Jack's widow's place, and directions to get there. Love you, miss you. And kisses and hugs and miss you some mores. And it's not too late, I can still go, and no,
darling, I got to do it by myself.
With a deep breath, off he went, Alma watching til the truck disappeared, and praying as he went.
Ennis wanted to think about meeting the widow, and Texas, and Jack's grave. And then he didn't want to think about it. Just have good manners, he told himself, and that's something you can do if you set your mind to. But basically,
keep your mouth shut, and no beans.
Alma Junior had the trip all planned out--on paper at least. Should thank Thelma, her trucking friends did most of this. Should've hitched a ride with one of them. Nah. The turns were simple...just hundreds of miles apart.
The interstate to Colorado was busy. Everyone rushing to get somewhere, maybe hell at the rate some went. Ennis kept a close eye on the gauges, and hoped they were close to being right. He would stop every so often and do the oil and fluid checks, and let the old truck rest, like he would a horse, but not for too long. Tires were holding out okay.
WELCOME TO NEW MEXICO, the sign read. Ennis was getting a little scared, and made sure it said NEW and not OLD. He didn't like the territory too much, and the people weren't bad. Just kind of dark skinned, and at that one place all the guy said was "see", and darned if Ennis knew what there was to see. And all the signs had this writing on them it must have been some sort of secret language.
And the land, didn't look good at all. Not Jack's kind of land. Didn't look like good farming land at all. Lightning Flat didn't have much to offer, but what the fuck, what lives around here. Saw a lot of little lizards when he stopped for the checks, and a leak. Different kind of bugs, and hot. Water might be scarce, so he knew he had better take it easy on that.
Then that road to Texas, sign as big as it could be, and a sigh of relief...and headed East, with the sun shining behind him, he knew he had it right. And things better start looking up better...awful poor land. Hell, a steer would starve on grass like this.
A tire blew out, and the old truck was braked, and came to the side of the road. Telling me something? he asked. But he was glad he had made it this far on that tire, and had a used one in the back to change. Damn lizards, get the fuck out of here.
Has to be more than fourteen hours or more on the road, Ennis figured. May not make it before dark, but looking at the sun, sure give it a try.
As he traveled along the signs began to announce Childress was just up the way. Fifty miles, then less and less. He rustled through the papers for the exact directions, streets, he would need.
Finally there--at least to Childress. Now the house. The directions were good, but the houses, well, no poor people lived in them. And then the street. Yeah! He drove down the road, and found the house--Jack Twist on the mail box and all. No mistake about it.
Ennis was confused. Jack always said Lureen's old man had money--serious money--but he didn't say nothing about no fucking Fort Knox. Ennis looked at his clothes. Won't do. And smelled his underarms. Nothing too dangerous there. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
There were lights on in the house, but he didn't see no one stirring about. Maybe she ain't home. Better come back some other time. He put the truck in gear and drove off.
The temptation was to head back to Wyoming. But if Alma Junior got wind of it, she'd have him by the ear and dragging him back. Nothing no one had done since his Ma had done. Jack, what the fuck should I do?
I need a drink. Shit. Alma Junior what kind of a promise was that? He followed the bread crumbs back the way he came. On the poor side of town he spotted a motel--just like that old Motel Siesta in Riverton--where Jack and him had their thing a time or two. He swung in and parked.
Decision time. Shit or get off the pot. Getting late, tired, long drive, Jack how the hell did you drive it so many times? At last, he checked in, unloaded the truck and flopped on the bed.
He needed some grub, and had eaten most of the sandwiches and popcorn Alma Junior had sent. He found a cafe, ate what he could, but they sure did have strange food down here. Then back to the motel.
It took a while--a long while of wrestling with his ideas. But he came to the conclusions it had to be done. But he needed better clothes than this, and shit everything. Dumbshit...since when has Ennis DelMar ever put on airs? Go as
you are; Jack, well at times I reckon, weren't dressed no better off than I am.
Ennis made up his game-plan. Don't put on airs. Ennis is Ennis, and she don't like it, she don't need my fucking help. He knew with money like this, they may have come by it honest, but they play harder, and for keeps. Jack once said if he sat down to play cards with her, she'd have him cleaned out nothing flat. And he would be getting up not knowing if the table was round or square.
But Ennis's old man had told him, always tell the truth. If they figure you're lying, let them. The more they figure, the less they know...or at least for sure.
All kinds of advice came to him. Jack, what the fuck did you come to Texas for? After bed-wrestling, Ennis fell to sleep. In the morning he showered, and cleaned places on his hide that probably had never been cleaned before--save falling in the river. Shaved. Brush teeth and all. Deodorant, just like the can said. Unhappy, but proud about his clothes. Unhappy, but proud of just about everything. Worked hard and honest for it...maybe not smart, but honest.
He ate breakfast, and fidgeted endless, or so it seemed. Well, bull by the horns time, he jabbered then downed the last cup of coffee. He drove to Jack's house, and went to the door, and hard to do, but pushed the doorbell button.
Golly, she's beautiful, Ennis thought, surprised, shocked. Ain't never saw a woman good looking like this. Jack, you old son-of-a-gun.
"Ennis DelMar?" she asked. "Jack talked of you frequently, I feel I have known you for years."
"Yeah, me."
"Please come in, sit, something to drink?"
"Well, ma’am I thought maybe I'd go to the cemetery first, daughter made up some flowers for the grave, pay respects and all."
"Jack is not at the cemetery," her eyes fluttered.
"Well, ma'am, I know that. Alma Junior keeps telling me he's in heaven."
"No, he's not there either."
Puzzled, Ennis was not sure what to say. There weren't many other options, and though Ennis would have said it himself, it just didn't seem right that his widow should be saying it.
She laughed, then with her gentle hands, escorted Ennis into the house. Pretty house. Gee, Jack, you did pretty god damned well. "Ennis, may I call you Ennis?"
"Yeah, it's the only name I know."
"The reason I said that, and I did not mean to shock you, was that I had Jack removed. He's home, on the mantle, for now."
She escorted Ennis to the fireplace, and reached up and brought down the metal box. She offered it to Ennis, but he'd never been keen on touching dead people, and no way in hell could Jack fit in such a little box.
"His ashes," she said.
Ennis teared up. A sniffle, then wiped his eyes and runny nose on his sleeve. "Sorry," he said, remembering it wasn't polite to wipe your nose just anywheres.
"Like my Grandmother always told me," Lureen spoke, "Grown men don't cry; but grown up men do."
Not sure what she said, Ennis said, "I reckon."
Ennis took deep breaths, and held back the tears the best he could. But reckoning had come, and no turning back. She knew it was bothering Ennis, hell a grown man crying, not many do that in Texas, or anywhere for that matter.
She placed the metal box back on the mantle. "Cowboy, you need a drink."
"Ma'am, could use one, but I sort of promised my daughter. I can't."
"My name is Lureen, not ma'am."
It took a while, like a fish that swallowed the hook deep to get it out, but finally, "Lureen."
She escorted Ennis to a chair and got him sat. He wanted to sit on the edge, but it made her nervous just as much as he was. But she coaxed him back, Jack's favorite chair, and with those words Ennis was about to jump out like it were the electric chair. But with coaxing of her eyes, he settled back.
"I was expecting you last night."
"Had a bit of trouble--flat tire and all."
She nodded knowing Jack had mentioned things like that happening all the time. "Please excuse me while I make a phone call," she said and picked up the phone. She noted the number on the paper and dialed. "This is Lureen Twist. Your father is here, safe sound, a flat tire was all that it was....yes... would you like to talk to him?"
Ennis waved his hands. Nope, no phone talking for him. Bad news the last time--heard Jack was dead. "Oh, I think he is a bit shy, but sends his love."
"Miss you darling," Ennis called out.
"Good-bye, and you're welcome" Lureen said then hung the phone up. "Your daughter sounds like such a sweet girl."
"Oh, she's my baby."
Lureen excused herself again and left and came back with some lemonade. Ennis rose from the chair, and with his glass, toasted Jack. "To Jack, one hell of a good man, hunting and fishing buddy and all. Miss you." Ennis downed the lemonade like whiskey, and felt better. But lemonade just ain't got the same toasting power as whiskey. Then he sat back down.
"Are you sure you wouldn't want some thing a bit stronger to toast Jack?"
"Well, sort of promised Alma Junior about drinking, and all, sometimes can get carried away."
"A promise," Lureen said and again picked up the phone and dialed. "Lureen again. Yes. Your father, I think needs a drink, but he made a promise, he says... he did? Very well," then the woman handed the phone to Ennis, and there was no refusing.
"Hi honey, miss you....yeah, all the way down. Sure. Well, okay, I hear you," then Ennis hung up the phone. "One won't hurt."
"Help yourself, the liquor is over there." She rose and escorted Ennis to the bottles waiting for him. Scotch? Nah, don't like the stuff. Bourbon? Sounds okay, hey Jack's and my kind. I forgot I still had that bottle, there are better brands. No, this one will suit me real fine.
She poured a shot glass for Ennis, and some wine for herself. "Here's to Jack, one hell of a good fishing and hunting buddy." He took it like a man, she sipped hers.
They began to talk. Ennis tried to relax, and did a little. We miss Jack, they both said. Lureen said she accepted Jack's death, not at first, but in time, okay. Then it began to bother her, could not sleep, and Ennis said he knew that feeling. Something was wrong. She knew Jack was not a Texas boy. Texas did not want him, and he did not want Texas. Jack belonged back in Wyoming, or Brokeback.
Ennis told her the old man didn't give him the ashes, and Jack would be buried in Lightning Flat--the family plot--instead. She asked where Lighting Flat was, as she never found it on any map. Ennis told her there probably weren't a map made that had it on, but was in the northeast corner of Wyoming, so close to Montana you could spit across the line, but she replied, Jack said you could always piss across the line too, and they agreed Jack was right.
"You know, Ennis," Lureen spoke, remembering the past, hoping for a future. "There are days I keep wanting Jack to come through that door, and say, as he must have a hundred times, 'There ain't no baloney in this house. I'm hungry for a baloney sandwich, and there ain't no baloney. How can I eat a baloney sandwich with no baloney, and that's no baloney.'" Lureen finally paused, a smile to her face to hide a tear. "Ennis, I have finally realized that even if I had a ton of baloney in the refrigerator, Jack is NOT coming back. I must move on, but still hold the past dear. Ennis, you have to move on."
"Yes ma'am. Wished him and me were going fishing or hunting. Good times with a good man."
"And do you like baloney too?"
"Well, yeah, for breakfast I like it fried, sandwich with mustard. On the range, same but cold, not fried. Daughter, if she makes it, I usually pick off the lettuce, and she uses mayo."
Lureen smiled.
The conversation went back to why Ennis had made the trip. "So, Alma Junior told me you needed my help?" Ennis spoke. Would you honor me, she asked, and take the rest of Jack's ashes back to Wyoming? She said Jack was not a Texas boy, and she was a Texas girl, and oil and water. He did not belong down here, and though they did have their good times, and bad times, Jack needed a special peace, and go home. He always had this dream of a ranch up there, but I would hear nothing of it. Ennis nodded in agreement.
She asked Ennis if there was anything of Jack's that he wanted, and he said no, couldn't think of a thing. Perhaps his clothes, Ennis would look good in them, she told him. And they should fit you very well, about the same build and all. Some were hardly worn if any, as he always wore the same jeans.
"Well," Ennis finally said, "Jack would give just about anyone the shirt off his back, the good hunting and fishing buddy that he was."
"And the jeans off his ass," Lureen added.
She had not the heart to give them to just anyone. I once tried to get rid of Jack's old hat, and I thought he would kill me. The red marks on my throat lasted for days. And Ennis said Jack put big store on that hat.
Do you mind used clothes? she asked in a polite way, not wanting to offend, not wanting to say anything wrong.
Well, once, on Brokeback, there was a question about whose blue shirt it was--mine or Jack's, but its been settled now. Ennis nodded that used clothes were fine. Hell, from day one he only had hand-me-downs, from diapers--they were cloth back then--to anything that K.E. outgrew, and were patchable. Even shops today that way, new clothes cost more, and used, most still got good use in them. Besides, Ennis would know whose crotch stinkers they were, and being Jack's, that would work out fine.
"K.E. Who is that," she asked.
"Oh, my brother. Ain't seen in years."
"And may I ask what K.E. is for?"
Ennis thought. "Ma'am, not sure. Always been K.E. for all I know. Must stand for something."
"I will take you to Jack's room, and please, whatever you want, do not be bashful. I have finally realized Jack is NOT coming back, and I am sure he will want his clothes, anything, used by those he loved."
Ennis followed Lureen back to the bedroom. A man's room Ennis thought. Almost smelled of Jack, some cigarette butts and ashes still in the tray.
"This is Jack's room", Lureen spoke, "I will get some moving boxes, and we can do the job." And she left.
It was a man's room. Jack's room. Big bed, lots of fun there Ennis thought. A quilt that some country woman had made, maybe his Ma. Big pillows...not a touch of a woman here. Paintings of mountains and cattle, cowboys and horses. Kerosene lamp that hadn't been used for quite some time. No golf clubs for Jack. That fucking harmonica Jack played on Brokeback. A pack of cigarettes, a lighter. Picture of his folks.
She returned a few moments later with the flattened boxes. Ennis assembled, and together they taped the box to hold its shape.
Lureen opened the closet doors, and boy, more clothes than he had seen before. She took a shirt from the hanger and held it against Ennis, then remarked, you do look handsome in it. Ennis replied that Jack always looked better.
Ennis was finding it hard to refuse, but did on occasion. Suits were not his thing, but could have used one though when Alma Junior got married, and him being the father of the bride and all. One suit for Ennis, the others, to some
charity then.
They spent the morning till one or so, and Ennis said it might be a hundred years, but eventually he'd wear the clothes. Mostly the jeans and work shirts, but there would be a time or two for the fancy stuff. Then Ennis became concerned that there were no woman's clothes here, and maybe, just maybe she would use the money--sell Jack's and get some money--and clothes for herself.
She must have sensed Ennis's puzzlement.
"Ennis," she began. "for the last few years, Jack and I did not sleep together. He had his room, and I have mine; therefore my clothes are not here."
Ennis was quiet.
"And to set the record straight, one of us, if we were so inclined would call or whistle out, and the other might answer, and depending upon whose will was the weakest, would go to the other's room."
Ennis was stunned. "Yeah, sounds sort of like Alma and me before we divorced, except we shared the same bed."
"Alma? That is your daughter's name?"
"Oh, shit ma’am. Alma is, was my wife, and Alma Junior is our daughter, sort of like John and John Junior, except its Alma and Alma Junior."
"Silly me."
No matter, Ennis shrugged his shoulders. Don't know if you don't ask, I guess.
"Guns?" Lureen asked.
"Jack had some pretty nice ones."
"Yours!"
"I can't. Say, don't you have a boy? Maybe he wants the clothes and guns, shit, I'm taking about everything."
"My son and my husband did not, never did, see eye to eye. I should blame that on my daddy, the way the old fart spoiled my son." She went to a gun cabinet and opened it. "Do you see anything wrong?" she asked.
Ennis looked. Three rifles. Just like, well, almost like Jack would have them. "I see one needs a little cleaning."
"Jack bought this rifle, it's only a .22, for his son. And this is how our son treated it. Well, I guess I should blame my daddy. Bobby dropped the gun, in some mud, I wasn't there. Story goes that daddy told Bobby to get it real dirty, and the piss ant, meaning Jack, would clean it. So, Bobby, to please his
grandfather, and I suppose himself, well, you can see the mud everywhere. Bobby called his dad, Jack, a piss ant. I don't think Jack said a word. Brought the rifle home, and there it is to this day, after all these years. Jack was so disappointed in Bobby. I am afraid if you shot it, it would blow up in your
face."
"Ma’am, just a little dirt, and some good cleaning, like the others, and be shooting in no time."
"Take them all. I have my .45 pistol by my bedside, for my protection, and that is all the guns I want in this house."
A .45, Ennis thought, makes a pretty big hole.
They had chicken salad sandwiches for lunch, potato salad and relish tray, and lemonade. There was a one whiskey drink limit for today.
Ennis wanted to help with dishes, but she would hear nothing of it--that's what dishwashers are for. Their work was about done. The boxes were full, sealed, ready to be hauled to the truck, later, as there was more business to take care of.
Ennis sat at the dining room table while Lureen left for a few minutes, then returned with papers.
"Ennis, let me explain this. A few days after Jack died, a bank in New Mexico called and said Jack had a box there, and if I brought in the key, they would open it for me. Well, I looked for that key, and after a few days, I could not find it, and I became consumed in other affairs. I figured Jack wouldn't have anything important in New Mexico. Then two months ago the bank called, and wanted their box rent, or they could drill it open for me if I could not find the key. I went, they drilled, and inside the box were all the papers we are going to go over now."
"Ma’am none of my business."
"This letter is addressed to you. There must be a dozen different addresses on the envelope. Now you know why I had a hard time finding you."
"Yes, ma’am moved around a bit. Think he missed a few though."
"I have not read the letter, and I will leave you to read it now, if you like."
"Guess I can read it later. Jack was always talking about his ranch, or this or that." Ennis shoved the letter into his back pocket, giving it an extra shove to secure it.
"Jack," she said "has a will. It is handwritten, and I do not need a lawyer to tell me, they are easy to break, or I could take a match to it, and it never existed, or I can honor it. Let me read it to you."
"I, Jack Twist, leave everything I have, or will have, to my best god damned hunting and fishing buddy, Ennis DelMar. Signed Jack Twist, and dated in 1967."
"Ma’am I don't think it's right. What's his, is yours. Won't hear nothing of it. Give me a match and end it now."
"Actually, you are mostly right. Most everything you see was owned (a) either by myself outright, or (b) jointly, with rights of survivorship. But, he did have some things in his name only."
"Ma’am give me a pencil and I will sign them over right now."
"No, I plan to honor Jack's wishes. It is his dream, not mine. Listen, and I will not hear another peep from you."
Ennis nodded, and Lureen began the presentation. Years ago Jack had purchased his Uncle Harold's ranch in Lightning Flat. He had to borrow the money, from me. When he got his commission checks for selling some equipment, and maybe he got some kickbacks too, but that's his business. Month by month, he paid it back. I knew he spent his money on trips to Lightning Flat, said he would stop and see you along the way. Gone a week or two or three, then show up. Helped his parents a lot, money and all, and worked some there too.
Jack must have lived on five dollars a day to make the payments, but that he did.
Ennis told her that both Jack and me grew up poor, and many a day we lived on less than a penny a day, and he guessed every time Jack went to see the folks, he would stop and see him, along the way you know.
She added, I did not charge him interest, husband and all, and against all her daddy's bitching, but Jack kept his bargain, and I kept mine. Daddy would keep telling me I'd end up foreclosing, and own a worthless piece of crap, in Y-hell-hole.
She handed the deed to Ennis. He read, as owners, Jack Twist or Ennis DelMar, joint owners with right of survivorship.
Yeah, Jack always wanted a ranch, but didn't think Jack would ever get it. Blowing gas out his ass.
"I can't take this."
"And I do not want it. Maybe if I did, Jack would still be alive. I am not leaving Texas, and it was Jack's dream, and he said your dream as well."
"Yeah, dream, but like wishing for a trip to the moon."
"And let me continue. What really surprised me was these." Lureen handed Ennis a large stack of documents looking more like money than a paper wrapper off a bean can, but were rubberbanded together. "These, these are U.S. Government Series
E savings bonds, and you are the beneficiary on each and every one of them."
"Ma’am I can't. Give me a pencil and they are yours."
"No, Mr. DelMar, they are yours. Afterall, what would I do with more money....buy happiness?"
A pushing and shoving match began, Ennis pushing the deed and bonds to her, and Lureen pushing them back. Finally she relaxed the grip, and took them back.
She ignored him. "When I was at the bank, I must have dropped one of the bonds on the floor, and a day later they called and said they had found it. The mousy woman who called, wanted to know who Ennis DelMar was, cause that was the beneficiary, and not his wife. Is she a sister? she asked, and a voice in the background said it was a man's name. I told her that Jack had a half-brother. I do not need this 'situation' to go any farther. Do you understand me Mister Ennis DelMar?"
"Not sure what there is to understand? I guess I can be a half-brother or something for a while and sign the bonds over to you."
"You do not understand. You are leaving here with this deed, and these bonds, and I can (a) ASK you to make Jack's dream of a ranch come true, or (b) I can TELL you, or (c) you ARE. May I ask which one this will be?"
"I don't take no fucking charity."
"Then consider it a loan. You can make payments to me, like Jack did, no interest, and I must laugh, getting paid twice for land will make my sweet daddy roll in his grave. And the bonds, they can go into an account. Buy equipment and stock as needed, and replace when income comes in. Draw on it as needed in hard times, and replace what you take in good times, plus a healthy measure more. Maybe put back, when good times, two or three times what you have taken out. Then when the times are really bad, a bank account will separate the men from the boys."
"I can't. I'll think on it. Well, should have thought of this sooner. Give them to his folks. Can do that, can't I?"
"Yes and no."
"Yes? or No?"
"Jack had a life insurance policy on himself that named his parents as beneficiaries, just in case he should die first, I think they needed his help."
"Good idea."
"Colburn, the insurance agent, sent them their check, and they promptly sent it back. No charity, I think he said. So he sent it to them again with a better explanation, and back it came again."
"Folks, think they like cash money."
"No, they knew what it was. Just did not want it. No charity for them either."
"Stubborn old man."
"Perhaps, but I believe the check went back and forth a few times more. Finally Colburn called them and talked with them. After he said they could give it to a church, as a memorial to Jack, they took it."
"Well, charity begins at home."
"How many churches do you know, Ennis, that you'd like to give these bonds too?"
"Well, lots of churches out there, not been in very many, don't know exactly. Would have to think real hard on that one."
"So, now you know about Jack's folks a little better. May need the money, but wouldn't take it. Now, changing the subject, Jack always said a foreman ain't much more than a regular hand, except gives the orders. Can you give orders, Mister Ennis Delmar? Or Just take them?"
"Don't know, never done."
"You will, won't you, for Jack? His dream? If you have the problem with the money, sometimes I just do not understand men. Consider yourself the foreman. Does that make it easier?"
"I'll think on it."
"Look at this. Jack drew the plans for his home, well I suppose it is a cabin. One big room, except for a bathroom here," she pointed out. "At least there was none of those dreadful outhouses."
"They do come in handy."
"But it's hardly bigger than a garage, or small barn at the most."
"Well, sometimes a fella don't need much--just an area to sleep, and eat or cook, maybe do some business."
"And these papers Jack lingered over the hardest. See, what he wrote."
Ennis looked. J&E Ranch; E&J Ranch; T&D Ranch; D&T Ranch; E Ranch.
"This one," Lureen pointed out, "A&L--you said your wife's name was Alma, so finally I have these figured out."
"Well, we've been divorced for quite a spell."
"These are Jack's dreams, plans, whatever you might want to call them, and I am sure they are, or could be yours as well."
"Yes, ma’am."
She left Ennis to his lemonade.
Jack, god damn it. What the fuck? Me and your fucking dream. Kill me Lord and get it over with. Ennis thought about just slipping out quietly, or if he had to push his way out, or run like hell, and leave everything. Well, nothing to leave that was his, anyways. Jack.
Lureen would probably let the land go, or sell it, but since it was Ennis's name on the deed, maybe he would try to pay the taxes. But those bonds. Cash them, I guess, send a check back or something. If she don't cash it, not my fucking problem.
The idea of a ranch. Okay, Jack, you had it a little easier, hell of a lot easier then me, but that's me, and you is you, and this damn crawling in the sack together. Like crawling in with a woman, gets you nothing but trouble. But what does a man live for, other than to dream? Try for something better.
Jack, old buddy, get out of Hell and come help me...or I'll change places with you, and you can have your dream.
Like the preacher always says, Jesus came to earth for the sinners, and he didn't want to go to the cross or nothing like that, but He did. Damn preacher says its cause He loves us. Jack, I love you, you know, we are the best god damned hunting and fishing buddies God ever made. More than that, hunting and fishing, but buddies, all kind of buddies, thick and thin.
Ennis wished for, needed, a drink. But he had promised Alma Junior. If only he had promised Jack, then there would be no gut wrenching now.
No sense crying, no sense escaping.
Dusk was coming. Lureen left Ennis alone. Hell, she could have left the house for all Ennis knew. Didn't hear no gunshot, so she ain't using the .45.
"Well, cowboy, Mister Ennis DelMar?" came the voice and Ennis looked up to see her.
"Don't know. Ain't easy."
"Mister DelMar, who has been the best, the worst, the meanest, the dumbest, the smartest, the laziest and hardest worker on any job? Who is the one first to start work, and the last to stop work. Any of that sound like anyone you have worked with?"
"Hmmm," he wondered. "Well, they're either smart or dumb, hard workers or laggards, some never show. No one I ever seen. Guess they all take the cake one way or the other."
"No, Mister Delmar, it is when YOU are the owner, the BOSS, and only YOU."
Ennis had to think on it. Never owned much. Never had that problem.
"Well, ma’am, you need a foreman. Ain't the best, ain't the worse. For Jack, I guess."
"Jack always said you were the best cook, next to his mother."
"Yeah, not too many complaints."
"Jack said you made a can of beans taste like manna from heaven."
"Wouldn't go that far. Potatoes and beans were about all we had on Brokeback. Guess there was that elk, and beer and whiskey, but I didn't make none of that."
Lureen left, going to the kitchen and came back. A platter in her hand showed two big, and Ennis does mean big, steaks. "The grill is outside. You should have no trouble making a hot fire in the grill, and when its ready, let me know and I will bring these out. Salad, potato?"
"Well, no beans."
They laughed. Ennis went to the patio, as they call it, found what he needed and built a good charcoal fire. Black at the beginning, but growing white with age, and when the hand couldn't be held for more than Two Mississippi, it were ready.
"Rare," Lureen said.
Ennis did the job well, and so did the microwave on the potatoes, and a salad, bowl almost as big as a washtub. And Texas toast of course. Candles lit, table cloth, china and silver. They dined, and yeah, a little bit of red wine ain't like whiskey. But warms a guy, and a girl.
Short of picking up the bone and gnawing on it, he was stuffed, and amazed that Lureen could pack it away better than him. Better not, thought he, get into a drinking match with this lady, or he may be the one under the table.
"Cherry cake?" she asked.
"Don't know where I will put it."
"Jack's favorite. His mother's recipe. Seems like I would make one, and Jack would eat it all up in a day or so. Did you know cherry cake was Jack's favorite?"
"Well, his Ma offered me some when I was up there," Ennis answered, but too ashamed to tell her he had not eaten any. Then again, if he had known it were Jack's favorite, he'd have had a big piece. But he didn't know. Just like he didn't know Jack would be dead.
Lureen cut Ennis a slice, half the size that Jack would take, and he ate it. Good. But there is a limit to what the stomach will take. And that fancy dishwasher did its job again.
They rested in the living room. Not saying much, but Ennis was doing his thinking. He finally breathed a heavy sigh and said, "You know, ma’am, Jack was always talking about his ranch and, well, me sort of helping, like that foreman you said, and if I had said yes, old Jack would still be alive."
"Ennis, it is like my grandmother told me a long time ago. When you play the IF game, you will win lots of IF's, and get real good at the game. But when you go to cash all those IF's in, all you're going to get is more regrets than you can spend in a lifetime. I have or had a lot of IF's with Jack, more than you, but it is sometimes wise to listen to your grandmother."
"Yes, ma’am."
The meal was setting in, the sun had been down for a while. Could have almost used a fire, but it was hot enough.
"Well, ma’am," Ennis finally decided and rose from Jack's chair. "Should be going?"
"It's late. You are not driving in the night?"
"No, ma’am, maybe a while and get a motel, I guess."
"Would you honor me, and stay a night, in Jack's room, I've kept it his way since..."
Ennis breathed heavy. Maybe ain't proper, you know, a widow, a strange man, hell she sleeps with a .45. "Please, breakfast in the morning, Texas style, Texas hospitality. Jack, I think never really liked Texas, but I cannot have you leaving without knowing what Texas is really like."
"What will, you know, the neighbors, think and all?"
"Let them think."
"Well, ma’am, I guess. Ain't got nothing to get back to--right away that is."
It was settled. Ennis, sort of glad to save the money, not really wanting to leave Jack's house, well Lureen's, he guessed, would be the last time here. He went to his truck, got the bag Alma Junior had prepared for him ... and sure glad he had it.
They retired to separate rooms, Lureen to hers, Ennis, well, to Jack's. Doors were closed, and in time, her light went out.
Ennis sat down in the chair. It rocked a bit. Maybe sleep in the chair, he thought. Jack's letter was poking him in the back, and he thought better get the reading over. Ennis opened the envelope, and took out the pages.
PAGE 1. Hey good buddy. Its ranch time.
PAGE 2. Ennis, if you're reading this, then I am dead, or you are dead and found your way into my bank box. We can have a good life together, on OUR ranch. Of course, to make it succeed we need to have a Joe Aguirre, to run things, and keep them running smooth. Congratulations old buddy. Grow a mustache, or grow some boobs and call yourself Lureen. Kick my ass when needed, cause I plan to be the ranch stiff--never been anything but. And if there comes a time that YOU need a Joe Aguirre on your fucking ass, then I am the man to do it, and buddy, I kick ass real good....and you know I can do it!
PAGE 3. Ennis, maybe some family history is in order. My granddad killed all the Indians and took their land, if you care to believe that. He had two kids, and everyone knew when he died, Uncle Harold got half, and my Ma got half. Brother and Sister. She told me her half would be mine some day, and when
some day comes, Ennis, it will be OURS. There have been times we have been welded together--our cocks and balls--(goddamnit Jack, who the fuck might read this).
At any rate, a single woman who would someday inherit lots of land was a handsome prize back then. So, Pa shows up, and marries her. And I come along. Asked Ma one time if he was my real Pa, and she wouldn't answer me. Didn't say yes, didn't say no. And she didn't knock me silly for asking the question either. Probably the reason the old man hates me so is because I ain't. Just as well, I wouldn't want to be none of him no how.
But Ma is a shrewd woman, don't let her fool you. Fools a lot of folks, its easy for her to do. But she never put the old man's name on the deed, and the lawyer she uses made sure her will won't never be broke. So the old man is stuck, and hating every minute of it.
PAGE 4. Ennis I kept my plans on paper, and they are back home, folks house, my room upstairs, in the closet. Jesus, Ennis, do I have to draw you a map. If you can find your shirt, sorry about stealing it back on Brokeback, but hey, man, thought I would never see you again, (goddamnit Jack, who the fuck might read this shit?) At any rate, find my/your shirt, and you can find my diaries and plans and all. P.S. Ma knows where they are at, just in case. Ask her. Nothing hid there.
PAGE 5. Well, good buddy, sign this. I, Ennis DelMar, a good man, promises a good life, on the ranch. (There was a place for Ennis to sign, an X and a line struck.)
Ennis you are a man of your word, just getting it out of you is the problem. Make OUR, well, Ennis, it is our dream, ain't it, come true. Show them all, we ain't no ranch stiffs. Jack.
PAGE 6. Ennis, I want so bad to go back to Wyoming, where I belong, and you too. Dig me up if have to. Jack.
P.S. Always liked Brokeback Mountain, mainly because it was OUR FIRST (goddamnit Jack, watch what you're writing). But wherever, as long as it ain't Texas. I'll be happy. Lightning Flat ain't bad. Its home, for me. Could be yours too!!!
PAGE 7. And Ennis, twin, we both come from the same mother's womb. I came first, I guess. I had to coax you out, though, telling you it ain't a bad world out here, but it's tough, and got its rules.
And there ain't one goddamn thing I can do to help you. You gotta do it all by yourself. Ennis, get borned.
And I know that damn umbilical cord is still attached. Its tugs on you, most constantly I suspects, yanks now and then to remind you. Think it may have also yanked you right back into that damn womb many times, but you came out, nonetheless.
Twin....we're from the same cloth, as they say, though not sure what they really mean by it. Love.
***
Jack ain't no can of beans where you enjoy the good part, and throw the can away like trash.
Enough reading for one night. He put the letter into the bottom of the bag, and figured it could stay there for a long while. Ennis did the pajama thing, guess that's what you're suppose to do, then lifted the blankets and slowly entered the bed. Hell, if Jack were for real there, Ennis would have had his clothes off and before lightning could hit, next to that warm sonofagun. Ennis looked at the bed, though, well, I've slept with Jack a hundred times. Sure, his bed, but sure as hell, won't be here tonight. Goddamnit.
Ennis weren't no bloodhound, but he could smell Jack. Jack's smells, and it relaxed him. He held the sheets over his nose and breathed. Ain't no finer smell, he thought. He slept, but in the night was sure he felt a warm hand on his back, his thighs, his ass. But no one was there, just memories.
In the morning he woke, but heard no sounds in the house, and felt Lureen was still sleeping. Wouldn't be right to just pack up and leave, without saying a proper good-bye and all. But in time, she began to stir.
She knocked on the door.
"Woke," he responded.
"There are towels in the bathroom. Then breakfast."
"Thank you ma’am."
Ennis showered, brushed teeth and shaved, even though not the proverbial Saturday night. Even some deodorant, and clean clothes...his, not Jack's, save them for better times.
Breakfast was eggs and toast, bacon and sausage and ham, jelly, coffee, strong black rich.
"Ennis, I do want to thank you for coming. I really appreciate it."
"Ma’am, Lureen, my pleasure."
"I have not had a good night's rest since Jack passed. But when your daughter called, it was almost like an answer to prayers. I didn't need the pills any more. I think Jack had been trying to tell me something all along."
"Well, ma’am, Lureen, I know what you mean."
"I am happy Jack is going back to Wyoming, where he belongs. I am so glad to have met you, Jack's good hunting and fishing buddy."
"Ma’am, if ever you need a thing, I am no more than a holler away."
"And one more thing I forgot," Lureen said as she sipped her coffee. "After Jack died, they brought his truck home. It has sat there ever since, and I have not moved it, been in it. Ennis, please take it."
"Ma’am, I got my own truck, and you can always use a truck, and maybe your boy wants it, or ..."
"I've already made out the title."
"Got my truck here, no way to get both of them home."
"Have you ever used a tow bar?"
"Ma’am, I don't go home without one, truck likes to break down a lot."
"Problem solved." She put the keys into his hand and closed the palm for him. "And I've packed the deed and bonds, and copies of the death certificate, you will need that to record the deed and cash the bonds."
"Ma’am, how the hell do you know I won't cheat you."
"Daddy always said the coyotes are a rich man's best friend, when it comes to the tax man, but not his partner. And if you want to drink it up, go ahead, and answer to Jack; not to me or anyone else, save yourself, of course."
"Ma’am."
"This was settled yesterday."
"Yes, ma’am."
Was it charity? Was it doing a friend a good deed? Was it being a friend? Was it more than Jack's dream; was it more than a dream?
"Ma’am?"
"Please, for once, call me Lureen."
"Okay, Lureen, could I get a picture of you, Alma Junior will want to see what you look like, and all, and Junior says I should take a picture of the grave, and all, have something to remember by, and all."
"Of course."
They road in Jack's truck...Ennis's new truck, I guess. Ennis did not have air conditioning in his, and even at this time of day, it was getting hot.
He drove and she directed him to the cemetery. Ennis knew he was going to tear up, but held it back. Grown men and their crying. Names Twist, Jack and Lureen, dates--well most of them, one still empty.
"I'll never marry again. Sort of given up on men."
"Well, Jack will be hard to replace, I know that."
Pictures were taken. The stone. The stone and Lureen. The stone and Ennis. An old woman drove by, and she took a couple of pictures of the stone, Lureen and Ennis, all together. Should have enough to keep Junior happy.
They returned to the house. They loaded the boxes of Jack's clothes, guns, and affects that they both agreed Jack would want Ennis to have. It was getting time to leave, parting is such sorrow. Ennis hooked the tow bar up, and at Lureen's insistence, the new truck was in front, and Ennis's in the rear.
Then Jack was taken down from the mantle. She cried and Ennis held her, tight like he would have held Jack. But finally, with a kiss on the box, handed it to Ennis.
"Trusting you to do the right things," she said.
"Don't worry, ma’am. I will."
"Maybe whatever Jack's parents will want?"
"Well, ma’am, Lureen, I reckon Jack's folks will want him buried, Christian-like. But I'll find something of Jack's to take up to Brokeback. Climb a lodgepole pine, and tack it up there. Maybe his hat? It'll be like him looking all over the mountains."
"Ennis, I want to go with you when you do. Leave something of mine as well."
"Ma’am, Lureen, kind of rugged, and we'll have to camp out, and ride horses."
"There's not a horse that can throw this girl. I am from Texas."
"Yes, ma’am, heard that said more than once."
Jack was placed on the seat, next to Ennis, and time was running out. Late, and fourteen hours, or more, towing a truck all the way home.
She kissed Ennis, on the cheek, holding him, he holding her, bonding. A few tears ran, from both, she wiping his, and he wiping hers.
"Be good to Jack."
"I know, or I'll get punched in the stomach."
She remained outside, looking down the road, until Ennis, the trucks, Jack was gone. One hurdle down, and many to go.
TBC
Ennis DelMar has a corral around him that he cannot cross over, cannot crawl under, and cannot pass through. There ain't no gate, and no way out. It's almost like a big rubberband. He can stretch the sides, pushing with all his might at times, but he cannot break through. And when he tires, it will snap him back, landing him on his ass, and there he would be, drunk or sober, but there he would be. Yeah, the pasture always looked greener, but was it really?
Jack could come into Ennis's corral at the drop of a hat, and leave just as quickly. But Ennis could not. He sort of envied Jack, his mobility, how things have changed for him. Wishing now don't make it no different now. He remembered him and Jack were sort of like a couple of stallions in Ennis's corral, the last time they were together, sort of fought, sort of wondered why, would it be any different?
And if the dog had not stopped to take a shit, he would have caught the rabbit. If only one or the other had known...well, Ennis knows, if he had known.
If what I know tomorrow I had known yesterday, I would have done something different today.
Ennis sometimes wished he could end his life. Almost did the other day, head-crazed thinking about Jack, head-on collision, but killing innocent folks just because you ain't happy is a hell of a way to go. Might leave a fourteen year old
boy an orphan or something, and that bothered Ennis--no way to start living that way. But ninety and a tree could do the job.
Shit, well, Ennis has got a married daughter, and another one he suspects will be soon. They'll be needing help, and grandkids--but what the fuck will this old bastard do for them? And it wouldn't bring Jack back. Fuck.
He hadn't done right by Jack. But he's dead. He could have done better by Alma, and his kids. Somewhere along the line, he's gotta do it right.
Ennis's parents were killed in an auto accident when he was fourteen, and he never saw none of his grandparents, or other kin. Maybe an aunt and uncle had visited when he was four or five. Ennis knew you need family, or grow up alone and tough.
Ennis was now living with his daughter and her husband. It was an okay arrangement no one wanted to live with, and when Curt seemed a little growly, Alma Junior would say her husband has always been grouchy in the morning. Ennis knew better; one of these days Curt would punch him a good one, but Ennis wasn't sure if he would punch back, or not, or how hard.
Like last week. Ennis was having another bad dream, about Jack. Before dawn Ennis cried out "Why?" so loud that even the stars stopped shining for an instant.
A door opened and Alma Junior came to Ennis's door. She knocked, and her father pulled the covers over his nakedness, and whispered, "You want something?"
The door slowly opened and his daughter came in. She sat on the side of the bed, it was wet with sweat. Another nightmare, she asked, and Ennis guessed so. It was getting close to dawn and she retreated to the kitchen to start breakfast. Curt, well, as Alma Junior would say, he'll get over it.
Ennis knew he needed a place of his own. This wasn't going to work, no matter how much his daughter said it would.
Money came with work, and that was the problem; both hard to find and keep. He was cutting back on his drinking and smokes, but a man has got to live. An odd job here and there tided him over, and sometimes a little for his daughter--for the keep. But a tent would do Ennis just fine, at least until winter came.
It was time, Alma Junior decided, to corner her father, and get her father back on track. Curt had gone to work early in a stew and pissed; so he would not confront Ennis. Last night Ennis had another bad dream, as he called it, but most call a nightmare.
Breakfast, she called into his room, and he stirred, dressing and going to the kitchen. He sat while she poured coffee. No sense in offering food, he didn't eat much any more.
Daddy, she said, and yes darling, he replied. We are going to talk. About what? Jack! What do you know about Jack? Ennis began to rise from the chair, but Alma Junior grabbed the twelve inch butcher knife, and pressed it on his zipper. Ennis stopped, cold. He had just sharpened the knife the other day, and knew how sharp it was. And if it had been Alma Junior's mother holding that knife, he would be picking up the pieces off the floor right now.
He stood there, his butt just inches off the chair. He froze there, like taking a shit in the woods and the last turd taking its time to get out.
Junior, are you crazy? in a half-demanding tone.
Daddy, I love you, she answered and relaxed the knife from the zipper, and then on the table. Ennis reached for his cigarettes, and knowing the rules, smoke outside, rose.
Daddy, she spoke with her finger in his face, you get off that chair, and so help me I'll kick you in the ass so hard you'll find your asshole next Sunday on your way to church, and your balls the Saturday after going to the barber shop, and who knows if you'll ever find your cock.
Ennis wasn't sure what had happened to his daughter. She was a Christian woman, church-goer and all, and was this speaking in tongues, or something, he asked.
We are talking, or maybe you are just listening. Daddy, when Jack died, it tore you up, it's like a cancer in you, just eating away. I was so afraid my daddy was going to die too. Darling, I ain't going to die, yet, but think you shortened my years a little with your knife, and the tongue too. But, as she explained it to him, you sometimes got to use the language a man understands. Don't make it right, but Jesus will understand.
Alma Junior did most of the talking, and Ennis nodded, maybe agreeing, maybe not. And finally she said, we got to go to Texas, and you got to say good-bye to Jack Twist, the proper way, showing your respects, and to his widow.
I love my Daddy, and right or wrong, I still love him to pieces.
They hugged.
And one more little thing needed to be mentioned. Alma Junior had called Jack's wife, well, his widow, in Childress Texas, and she said we could come on down. You ain't going. She needed some help from Ennis to settle some matters. You ain't going. And Jack had left some things for Ennis.
I don't need nothing from Jack Twist. Daddy, they're small things, and we could go to his grave and put some flowers. You ain't going. And Daddy, you got to say good-bye the right way, in Texas, at the grave. You ain't going.
Alma Junior learned her horse trading from her daddy, but a good teacher never teaches their students everything. So, in this horse trade, Alma Junior was staying home. So was Ennis staying home, cause he didn't have the time or money or whatever.
Wait, she told Ennis, and left for her bedroom. She came back with a box, wrapped with paper and ribbons. Something Ennis seldom got, but she shoved it into his lap. She prodded, finally he began the slow process of removing the ribbons and paper, something he had seen his Ma do many times. Waste not.
Inside, I don't need none of this stuff. A new razor and blades--well can always use new blades, deodorant--never touched the stuff, tooth brush and paste--okay, pajamas--darling its been years, so take them back and get your money, maps, road maps, and opening one saw the heavy dark pencil marks showing the route. You ain't going.
And what's this? Money, shit girl, Ennis said then grabbed her hand, to see if the wedding band was still in place, but it weren't worth this kind of money.
He started counting it, but twenty dollar bills never added up the same way twice. Daddy, it's five hundred dollars, for the trip. And he knew this Christian girl wouldn't be selling it on the street.
The Lord provides, was all she said, and repeated it many, many times, for the disbeliever. But you ain't going. And why the hell didn't he provide a thousand?
Daddy, his widow needs your help. Help my eye. Jack always said, well never mind. She's a real nice lady, and we talked on the phone, she had been trying to get hold of you but couldn't find you. I called her and told her who I was, and she asked if the phone call was costing me money, and I said yes. And being a nice lady like she is, then took my phone number and called me back within seconds, and we must have talked an hour. On her phone bill.
And what was said? She needs your help to help settle some of Jack's affairs. And she wanted to meet Jack's good friend, fishing and hunting buddy. You ain't going and I ain't going...well, I'll think on it. I know, I am not going.
Alma Junior packed away the gift box, and the money, hoping that her father would change his mind, or think on, or just go.
Ennis found some work, but he kept wondering. Where she get that kind of money? And if Curt found out. Maybe its time he finds a place of his own, maybe New York City, shit....that will be the day.
That night he retired early after supper, and hoped for a good night's rest. But sleep did not come. Was it Jack that was punching his stomach every night, calling for him, or something, from the great beyond? Or, was it the guilt that Ennis felt. If he had known, but no one had known, or if they did, they didn't tell Ennis. Didn't tell Jack for that matter.
Well, Jack didn't get what he wanted, life, Ennis, the ranch, dreams come true. He didn't even get his ashes spread on Brokeback Mountain. Who the fuck should care where a little bit of ash goes?
Jack, if I promise you that I will go to Texas, can I get a good night's sleep tonight? But remember man, that's a big IF you're putting on my shoulders. The old truck may not make it, and price of gas today, yeah, I know...Alma Junior says the Lord will provide.
Ennis got a fair rest that night, and didn't wake no one with his restlessness in the night. No work today, but he had other plans. Darling, be home late tonight, but could you pack me a sandwich before I go. Yeah, I know baloney.
After breakfast and a quick shower he was off. To Brokeback Mountain. If Jack can't go to Brokeback, then Ennis would make sure some of Brokeback--maybe a bucket or so--would make it to Jack...in Texas, and also some to Lightning Flat,
why the fuck did they divide him up?
He grabbed a shovel, and the only bucket about that was empty was a wash tub, that'll do, but instead grabbed a couple of canvas bags. Maybe a small lodgepole pine, but Jack said it was miserable hot down there, and dry at times, and some one would have to keep it watered. Or, maybe some mountain flowers, but
most things don't live when they are taken away to strange places. Ennis, Jack, both should have known that.
He hitched the horse wagon and dumped the saddle in back. Then he went for the horse, and off to Brokeback. It's got to be done, a long time in the making. It was past noon when Ennis found one of their old camps. Nothing much left of the site, snow and wind and rain pretty much took everything away.
Ennis found a cigarette butt, and could have been his or Jack's. Nothing left on it to smoke. He shoveled the earth into the bags, and looked about for some plants that might make the journey. But he changed his mind on everything living, but did gather up some stones from the fire ring. There him and Jack,
and who knows who else, had spent the best time of the summer--that and the tent as well.
He got home late, and Alma Junior had kept some meatloaf and potatoes warm in the oven for him. He ate. And darling, I guess I'm going to Texas, and I'll pay back every dime of that money the Lord has provided...just as soon as I can. She shook her head, Daddy, the Lord don't need it back. It's a gift, not a loan. Whatever!
But first, I'll need to get a couple of used tires for the truck. Don't know if these will make it or not. And some oil and brake, tranny fluid. Lets see, quart oil every couple hundred miles, and how far you say this is? A thousand, then lets see, two hundred into a thousand goes...goes...goes. Five
times Daddy. Okay, five times, make it six for good measure, and about the same coming back.
The next day Ennis and the banker went shopping. He got what he needed, and felt he got a real good deal on the used tires, even if the tread didn't match. Alma Junior said she would make sandwiches and Ennis wanted popcorn to eat, and a cooler of Coke and ice, but no whiskey. Promise me daddy, no whiskey. Okay a promise...at least until I get back.
That night he went to bed early, but sleep came late. How many times, he asked himself, had he started to Texas, or Lightning Flat for that matter, had he started the journey, and after a mile or so, turned back. Except for that one trip to Lightning Flat, he never went back, and guessed he never would.
Fourteen hours, Jack use to say. Course he had a truck that would go faster, and with less checks for oil and water, and he drove crazy. But lets see, if I leave at six, and fourteen hours, that would be ... yeah that would be. Leave this figuring to the banker. Then he went to sleep.
That morning a real good shower, breakfast, and simple directions, make it to Cheyenne, which he had done a few times, then south past Denver, which he never had done before, and go until you hit New Mexico, but don't get that confused with Old Mexico, cause that ain't even in the United States, or at least old Miss Wilson use to say. Once in New Mexico, head east into Texas and find Childress. Simple.
Alma Junior gave her daddy the maps and sandwiches and popcorn, and the money, and keep it in a safe place. And the address and phone number of Jack's widow's place, and directions to get there. Love you, miss you. And kisses and hugs and miss you some mores. And it's not too late, I can still go, and no,
darling, I got to do it by myself.
With a deep breath, off he went, Alma watching til the truck disappeared, and praying as he went.
Ennis wanted to think about meeting the widow, and Texas, and Jack's grave. And then he didn't want to think about it. Just have good manners, he told himself, and that's something you can do if you set your mind to. But basically,
keep your mouth shut, and no beans.
Alma Junior had the trip all planned out--on paper at least. Should thank Thelma, her trucking friends did most of this. Should've hitched a ride with one of them. Nah. The turns were simple...just hundreds of miles apart.
The interstate to Colorado was busy. Everyone rushing to get somewhere, maybe hell at the rate some went. Ennis kept a close eye on the gauges, and hoped they were close to being right. He would stop every so often and do the oil and fluid checks, and let the old truck rest, like he would a horse, but not for too long. Tires were holding out okay.
WELCOME TO NEW MEXICO, the sign read. Ennis was getting a little scared, and made sure it said NEW and not OLD. He didn't like the territory too much, and the people weren't bad. Just kind of dark skinned, and at that one place all the guy said was "see", and darned if Ennis knew what there was to see. And all the signs had this writing on them it must have been some sort of secret language.
And the land, didn't look good at all. Not Jack's kind of land. Didn't look like good farming land at all. Lightning Flat didn't have much to offer, but what the fuck, what lives around here. Saw a lot of little lizards when he stopped for the checks, and a leak. Different kind of bugs, and hot. Water might be scarce, so he knew he had better take it easy on that.
Then that road to Texas, sign as big as it could be, and a sigh of relief...and headed East, with the sun shining behind him, he knew he had it right. And things better start looking up better...awful poor land. Hell, a steer would starve on grass like this.
A tire blew out, and the old truck was braked, and came to the side of the road. Telling me something? he asked. But he was glad he had made it this far on that tire, and had a used one in the back to change. Damn lizards, get the fuck out of here.
Has to be more than fourteen hours or more on the road, Ennis figured. May not make it before dark, but looking at the sun, sure give it a try.
As he traveled along the signs began to announce Childress was just up the way. Fifty miles, then less and less. He rustled through the papers for the exact directions, streets, he would need.
Finally there--at least to Childress. Now the house. The directions were good, but the houses, well, no poor people lived in them. And then the street. Yeah! He drove down the road, and found the house--Jack Twist on the mail box and all. No mistake about it.
Ennis was confused. Jack always said Lureen's old man had money--serious money--but he didn't say nothing about no fucking Fort Knox. Ennis looked at his clothes. Won't do. And smelled his underarms. Nothing too dangerous there. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
There were lights on in the house, but he didn't see no one stirring about. Maybe she ain't home. Better come back some other time. He put the truck in gear and drove off.
The temptation was to head back to Wyoming. But if Alma Junior got wind of it, she'd have him by the ear and dragging him back. Nothing no one had done since his Ma had done. Jack, what the fuck should I do?
I need a drink. Shit. Alma Junior what kind of a promise was that? He followed the bread crumbs back the way he came. On the poor side of town he spotted a motel--just like that old Motel Siesta in Riverton--where Jack and him had their thing a time or two. He swung in and parked.
Decision time. Shit or get off the pot. Getting late, tired, long drive, Jack how the hell did you drive it so many times? At last, he checked in, unloaded the truck and flopped on the bed.
He needed some grub, and had eaten most of the sandwiches and popcorn Alma Junior had sent. He found a cafe, ate what he could, but they sure did have strange food down here. Then back to the motel.
It took a while--a long while of wrestling with his ideas. But he came to the conclusions it had to be done. But he needed better clothes than this, and shit everything. Dumbshit...since when has Ennis DelMar ever put on airs? Go as
you are; Jack, well at times I reckon, weren't dressed no better off than I am.
Ennis made up his game-plan. Don't put on airs. Ennis is Ennis, and she don't like it, she don't need my fucking help. He knew with money like this, they may have come by it honest, but they play harder, and for keeps. Jack once said if he sat down to play cards with her, she'd have him cleaned out nothing flat. And he would be getting up not knowing if the table was round or square.
But Ennis's old man had told him, always tell the truth. If they figure you're lying, let them. The more they figure, the less they know...or at least for sure.
All kinds of advice came to him. Jack, what the fuck did you come to Texas for? After bed-wrestling, Ennis fell to sleep. In the morning he showered, and cleaned places on his hide that probably had never been cleaned before--save falling in the river. Shaved. Brush teeth and all. Deodorant, just like the can said. Unhappy, but proud about his clothes. Unhappy, but proud of just about everything. Worked hard and honest for it...maybe not smart, but honest.
He ate breakfast, and fidgeted endless, or so it seemed. Well, bull by the horns time, he jabbered then downed the last cup of coffee. He drove to Jack's house, and went to the door, and hard to do, but pushed the doorbell button.
Golly, she's beautiful, Ennis thought, surprised, shocked. Ain't never saw a woman good looking like this. Jack, you old son-of-a-gun.
"Ennis DelMar?" she asked. "Jack talked of you frequently, I feel I have known you for years."
"Yeah, me."
"Please come in, sit, something to drink?"
"Well, ma’am I thought maybe I'd go to the cemetery first, daughter made up some flowers for the grave, pay respects and all."
"Jack is not at the cemetery," her eyes fluttered.
"Well, ma'am, I know that. Alma Junior keeps telling me he's in heaven."
"No, he's not there either."
Puzzled, Ennis was not sure what to say. There weren't many other options, and though Ennis would have said it himself, it just didn't seem right that his widow should be saying it.
She laughed, then with her gentle hands, escorted Ennis into the house. Pretty house. Gee, Jack, you did pretty god damned well. "Ennis, may I call you Ennis?"
"Yeah, it's the only name I know."
"The reason I said that, and I did not mean to shock you, was that I had Jack removed. He's home, on the mantle, for now."
She escorted Ennis to the fireplace, and reached up and brought down the metal box. She offered it to Ennis, but he'd never been keen on touching dead people, and no way in hell could Jack fit in such a little box.
"His ashes," she said.
Ennis teared up. A sniffle, then wiped his eyes and runny nose on his sleeve. "Sorry," he said, remembering it wasn't polite to wipe your nose just anywheres.
"Like my Grandmother always told me," Lureen spoke, "Grown men don't cry; but grown up men do."
Not sure what she said, Ennis said, "I reckon."
Ennis took deep breaths, and held back the tears the best he could. But reckoning had come, and no turning back. She knew it was bothering Ennis, hell a grown man crying, not many do that in Texas, or anywhere for that matter.
She placed the metal box back on the mantle. "Cowboy, you need a drink."
"Ma'am, could use one, but I sort of promised my daughter. I can't."
"My name is Lureen, not ma'am."
It took a while, like a fish that swallowed the hook deep to get it out, but finally, "Lureen."
She escorted Ennis to a chair and got him sat. He wanted to sit on the edge, but it made her nervous just as much as he was. But she coaxed him back, Jack's favorite chair, and with those words Ennis was about to jump out like it were the electric chair. But with coaxing of her eyes, he settled back.
"I was expecting you last night."
"Had a bit of trouble--flat tire and all."
She nodded knowing Jack had mentioned things like that happening all the time. "Please excuse me while I make a phone call," she said and picked up the phone. She noted the number on the paper and dialed. "This is Lureen Twist. Your father is here, safe sound, a flat tire was all that it was....yes... would you like to talk to him?"
Ennis waved his hands. Nope, no phone talking for him. Bad news the last time--heard Jack was dead. "Oh, I think he is a bit shy, but sends his love."
"Miss you darling," Ennis called out.
"Good-bye, and you're welcome" Lureen said then hung the phone up. "Your daughter sounds like such a sweet girl."
"Oh, she's my baby."
Lureen excused herself again and left and came back with some lemonade. Ennis rose from the chair, and with his glass, toasted Jack. "To Jack, one hell of a good man, hunting and fishing buddy and all. Miss you." Ennis downed the lemonade like whiskey, and felt better. But lemonade just ain't got the same toasting power as whiskey. Then he sat back down.
"Are you sure you wouldn't want some thing a bit stronger to toast Jack?"
"Well, sort of promised Alma Junior about drinking, and all, sometimes can get carried away."
"A promise," Lureen said and again picked up the phone and dialed. "Lureen again. Yes. Your father, I think needs a drink, but he made a promise, he says... he did? Very well," then the woman handed the phone to Ennis, and there was no refusing.
"Hi honey, miss you....yeah, all the way down. Sure. Well, okay, I hear you," then Ennis hung up the phone. "One won't hurt."
"Help yourself, the liquor is over there." She rose and escorted Ennis to the bottles waiting for him. Scotch? Nah, don't like the stuff. Bourbon? Sounds okay, hey Jack's and my kind. I forgot I still had that bottle, there are better brands. No, this one will suit me real fine.
She poured a shot glass for Ennis, and some wine for herself. "Here's to Jack, one hell of a good fishing and hunting buddy." He took it like a man, she sipped hers.
They began to talk. Ennis tried to relax, and did a little. We miss Jack, they both said. Lureen said she accepted Jack's death, not at first, but in time, okay. Then it began to bother her, could not sleep, and Ennis said he knew that feeling. Something was wrong. She knew Jack was not a Texas boy. Texas did not want him, and he did not want Texas. Jack belonged back in Wyoming, or Brokeback.
Ennis told her the old man didn't give him the ashes, and Jack would be buried in Lightning Flat--the family plot--instead. She asked where Lighting Flat was, as she never found it on any map. Ennis told her there probably weren't a map made that had it on, but was in the northeast corner of Wyoming, so close to Montana you could spit across the line, but she replied, Jack said you could always piss across the line too, and they agreed Jack was right.
"You know, Ennis," Lureen spoke, remembering the past, hoping for a future. "There are days I keep wanting Jack to come through that door, and say, as he must have a hundred times, 'There ain't no baloney in this house. I'm hungry for a baloney sandwich, and there ain't no baloney. How can I eat a baloney sandwich with no baloney, and that's no baloney.'" Lureen finally paused, a smile to her face to hide a tear. "Ennis, I have finally realized that even if I had a ton of baloney in the refrigerator, Jack is NOT coming back. I must move on, but still hold the past dear. Ennis, you have to move on."
"Yes ma'am. Wished him and me were going fishing or hunting. Good times with a good man."
"And do you like baloney too?"
"Well, yeah, for breakfast I like it fried, sandwich with mustard. On the range, same but cold, not fried. Daughter, if she makes it, I usually pick off the lettuce, and she uses mayo."
Lureen smiled.
The conversation went back to why Ennis had made the trip. "So, Alma Junior told me you needed my help?" Ennis spoke. Would you honor me, she asked, and take the rest of Jack's ashes back to Wyoming? She said Jack was not a Texas boy, and she was a Texas girl, and oil and water. He did not belong down here, and though they did have their good times, and bad times, Jack needed a special peace, and go home. He always had this dream of a ranch up there, but I would hear nothing of it. Ennis nodded in agreement.
She asked Ennis if there was anything of Jack's that he wanted, and he said no, couldn't think of a thing. Perhaps his clothes, Ennis would look good in them, she told him. And they should fit you very well, about the same build and all. Some were hardly worn if any, as he always wore the same jeans.
"Well," Ennis finally said, "Jack would give just about anyone the shirt off his back, the good hunting and fishing buddy that he was."
"And the jeans off his ass," Lureen added.
She had not the heart to give them to just anyone. I once tried to get rid of Jack's old hat, and I thought he would kill me. The red marks on my throat lasted for days. And Ennis said Jack put big store on that hat.
Do you mind used clothes? she asked in a polite way, not wanting to offend, not wanting to say anything wrong.
Well, once, on Brokeback, there was a question about whose blue shirt it was--mine or Jack's, but its been settled now. Ennis nodded that used clothes were fine. Hell, from day one he only had hand-me-downs, from diapers--they were cloth back then--to anything that K.E. outgrew, and were patchable. Even shops today that way, new clothes cost more, and used, most still got good use in them. Besides, Ennis would know whose crotch stinkers they were, and being Jack's, that would work out fine.
"K.E. Who is that," she asked.
"Oh, my brother. Ain't seen in years."
"And may I ask what K.E. is for?"
Ennis thought. "Ma'am, not sure. Always been K.E. for all I know. Must stand for something."
"I will take you to Jack's room, and please, whatever you want, do not be bashful. I have finally realized Jack is NOT coming back, and I am sure he will want his clothes, anything, used by those he loved."
Ennis followed Lureen back to the bedroom. A man's room Ennis thought. Almost smelled of Jack, some cigarette butts and ashes still in the tray.
"This is Jack's room", Lureen spoke, "I will get some moving boxes, and we can do the job." And she left.
It was a man's room. Jack's room. Big bed, lots of fun there Ennis thought. A quilt that some country woman had made, maybe his Ma. Big pillows...not a touch of a woman here. Paintings of mountains and cattle, cowboys and horses. Kerosene lamp that hadn't been used for quite some time. No golf clubs for Jack. That fucking harmonica Jack played on Brokeback. A pack of cigarettes, a lighter. Picture of his folks.
She returned a few moments later with the flattened boxes. Ennis assembled, and together they taped the box to hold its shape.
Lureen opened the closet doors, and boy, more clothes than he had seen before. She took a shirt from the hanger and held it against Ennis, then remarked, you do look handsome in it. Ennis replied that Jack always looked better.
Ennis was finding it hard to refuse, but did on occasion. Suits were not his thing, but could have used one though when Alma Junior got married, and him being the father of the bride and all. One suit for Ennis, the others, to some
charity then.
They spent the morning till one or so, and Ennis said it might be a hundred years, but eventually he'd wear the clothes. Mostly the jeans and work shirts, but there would be a time or two for the fancy stuff. Then Ennis became concerned that there were no woman's clothes here, and maybe, just maybe she would use the money--sell Jack's and get some money--and clothes for herself.
She must have sensed Ennis's puzzlement.
"Ennis," she began. "for the last few years, Jack and I did not sleep together. He had his room, and I have mine; therefore my clothes are not here."
Ennis was quiet.
"And to set the record straight, one of us, if we were so inclined would call or whistle out, and the other might answer, and depending upon whose will was the weakest, would go to the other's room."
Ennis was stunned. "Yeah, sounds sort of like Alma and me before we divorced, except we shared the same bed."
"Alma? That is your daughter's name?"
"Oh, shit ma’am. Alma is, was my wife, and Alma Junior is our daughter, sort of like John and John Junior, except its Alma and Alma Junior."
"Silly me."
No matter, Ennis shrugged his shoulders. Don't know if you don't ask, I guess.
"Guns?" Lureen asked.
"Jack had some pretty nice ones."
"Yours!"
"I can't. Say, don't you have a boy? Maybe he wants the clothes and guns, shit, I'm taking about everything."
"My son and my husband did not, never did, see eye to eye. I should blame that on my daddy, the way the old fart spoiled my son." She went to a gun cabinet and opened it. "Do you see anything wrong?" she asked.
Ennis looked. Three rifles. Just like, well, almost like Jack would have them. "I see one needs a little cleaning."
"Jack bought this rifle, it's only a .22, for his son. And this is how our son treated it. Well, I guess I should blame my daddy. Bobby dropped the gun, in some mud, I wasn't there. Story goes that daddy told Bobby to get it real dirty, and the piss ant, meaning Jack, would clean it. So, Bobby, to please his
grandfather, and I suppose himself, well, you can see the mud everywhere. Bobby called his dad, Jack, a piss ant. I don't think Jack said a word. Brought the rifle home, and there it is to this day, after all these years. Jack was so disappointed in Bobby. I am afraid if you shot it, it would blow up in your
face."
"Ma’am, just a little dirt, and some good cleaning, like the others, and be shooting in no time."
"Take them all. I have my .45 pistol by my bedside, for my protection, and that is all the guns I want in this house."
A .45, Ennis thought, makes a pretty big hole.
They had chicken salad sandwiches for lunch, potato salad and relish tray, and lemonade. There was a one whiskey drink limit for today.
Ennis wanted to help with dishes, but she would hear nothing of it--that's what dishwashers are for. Their work was about done. The boxes were full, sealed, ready to be hauled to the truck, later, as there was more business to take care of.
Ennis sat at the dining room table while Lureen left for a few minutes, then returned with papers.
"Ennis, let me explain this. A few days after Jack died, a bank in New Mexico called and said Jack had a box there, and if I brought in the key, they would open it for me. Well, I looked for that key, and after a few days, I could not find it, and I became consumed in other affairs. I figured Jack wouldn't have anything important in New Mexico. Then two months ago the bank called, and wanted their box rent, or they could drill it open for me if I could not find the key. I went, they drilled, and inside the box were all the papers we are going to go over now."
"Ma’am none of my business."
"This letter is addressed to you. There must be a dozen different addresses on the envelope. Now you know why I had a hard time finding you."
"Yes, ma’am moved around a bit. Think he missed a few though."
"I have not read the letter, and I will leave you to read it now, if you like."
"Guess I can read it later. Jack was always talking about his ranch, or this or that." Ennis shoved the letter into his back pocket, giving it an extra shove to secure it.
"Jack," she said "has a will. It is handwritten, and I do not need a lawyer to tell me, they are easy to break, or I could take a match to it, and it never existed, or I can honor it. Let me read it to you."
"I, Jack Twist, leave everything I have, or will have, to my best god damned hunting and fishing buddy, Ennis DelMar. Signed Jack Twist, and dated in 1967."
"Ma’am I don't think it's right. What's his, is yours. Won't hear nothing of it. Give me a match and end it now."
"Actually, you are mostly right. Most everything you see was owned (a) either by myself outright, or (b) jointly, with rights of survivorship. But, he did have some things in his name only."
"Ma’am give me a pencil and I will sign them over right now."
"No, I plan to honor Jack's wishes. It is his dream, not mine. Listen, and I will not hear another peep from you."
Ennis nodded, and Lureen began the presentation. Years ago Jack had purchased his Uncle Harold's ranch in Lightning Flat. He had to borrow the money, from me. When he got his commission checks for selling some equipment, and maybe he got some kickbacks too, but that's his business. Month by month, he paid it back. I knew he spent his money on trips to Lightning Flat, said he would stop and see you along the way. Gone a week or two or three, then show up. Helped his parents a lot, money and all, and worked some there too.
Jack must have lived on five dollars a day to make the payments, but that he did.
Ennis told her that both Jack and me grew up poor, and many a day we lived on less than a penny a day, and he guessed every time Jack went to see the folks, he would stop and see him, along the way you know.
She added, I did not charge him interest, husband and all, and against all her daddy's bitching, but Jack kept his bargain, and I kept mine. Daddy would keep telling me I'd end up foreclosing, and own a worthless piece of crap, in Y-hell-hole.
She handed the deed to Ennis. He read, as owners, Jack Twist or Ennis DelMar, joint owners with right of survivorship.
Yeah, Jack always wanted a ranch, but didn't think Jack would ever get it. Blowing gas out his ass.
"I can't take this."
"And I do not want it. Maybe if I did, Jack would still be alive. I am not leaving Texas, and it was Jack's dream, and he said your dream as well."
"Yeah, dream, but like wishing for a trip to the moon."
"And let me continue. What really surprised me was these." Lureen handed Ennis a large stack of documents looking more like money than a paper wrapper off a bean can, but were rubberbanded together. "These, these are U.S. Government Series
E savings bonds, and you are the beneficiary on each and every one of them."
"Ma’am I can't. Give me a pencil and they are yours."
"No, Mr. DelMar, they are yours. Afterall, what would I do with more money....buy happiness?"
A pushing and shoving match began, Ennis pushing the deed and bonds to her, and Lureen pushing them back. Finally she relaxed the grip, and took them back.
She ignored him. "When I was at the bank, I must have dropped one of the bonds on the floor, and a day later they called and said they had found it. The mousy woman who called, wanted to know who Ennis DelMar was, cause that was the beneficiary, and not his wife. Is she a sister? she asked, and a voice in the background said it was a man's name. I told her that Jack had a half-brother. I do not need this 'situation' to go any farther. Do you understand me Mister Ennis DelMar?"
"Not sure what there is to understand? I guess I can be a half-brother or something for a while and sign the bonds over to you."
"You do not understand. You are leaving here with this deed, and these bonds, and I can (a) ASK you to make Jack's dream of a ranch come true, or (b) I can TELL you, or (c) you ARE. May I ask which one this will be?"
"I don't take no fucking charity."
"Then consider it a loan. You can make payments to me, like Jack did, no interest, and I must laugh, getting paid twice for land will make my sweet daddy roll in his grave. And the bonds, they can go into an account. Buy equipment and stock as needed, and replace when income comes in. Draw on it as needed in hard times, and replace what you take in good times, plus a healthy measure more. Maybe put back, when good times, two or three times what you have taken out. Then when the times are really bad, a bank account will separate the men from the boys."
"I can't. I'll think on it. Well, should have thought of this sooner. Give them to his folks. Can do that, can't I?"
"Yes and no."
"Yes? or No?"
"Jack had a life insurance policy on himself that named his parents as beneficiaries, just in case he should die first, I think they needed his help."
"Good idea."
"Colburn, the insurance agent, sent them their check, and they promptly sent it back. No charity, I think he said. So he sent it to them again with a better explanation, and back it came again."
"Folks, think they like cash money."
"No, they knew what it was. Just did not want it. No charity for them either."
"Stubborn old man."
"Perhaps, but I believe the check went back and forth a few times more. Finally Colburn called them and talked with them. After he said they could give it to a church, as a memorial to Jack, they took it."
"Well, charity begins at home."
"How many churches do you know, Ennis, that you'd like to give these bonds too?"
"Well, lots of churches out there, not been in very many, don't know exactly. Would have to think real hard on that one."
"So, now you know about Jack's folks a little better. May need the money, but wouldn't take it. Now, changing the subject, Jack always said a foreman ain't much more than a regular hand, except gives the orders. Can you give orders, Mister Ennis Delmar? Or Just take them?"
"Don't know, never done."
"You will, won't you, for Jack? His dream? If you have the problem with the money, sometimes I just do not understand men. Consider yourself the foreman. Does that make it easier?"
"I'll think on it."
"Look at this. Jack drew the plans for his home, well I suppose it is a cabin. One big room, except for a bathroom here," she pointed out. "At least there was none of those dreadful outhouses."
"They do come in handy."
"But it's hardly bigger than a garage, or small barn at the most."
"Well, sometimes a fella don't need much--just an area to sleep, and eat or cook, maybe do some business."
"And these papers Jack lingered over the hardest. See, what he wrote."
Ennis looked. J&E Ranch; E&J Ranch; T&D Ranch; D&T Ranch; E Ranch.
"This one," Lureen pointed out, "A&L--you said your wife's name was Alma, so finally I have these figured out."
"Well, we've been divorced for quite a spell."
"These are Jack's dreams, plans, whatever you might want to call them, and I am sure they are, or could be yours as well."
"Yes, ma’am."
She left Ennis to his lemonade.
Jack, god damn it. What the fuck? Me and your fucking dream. Kill me Lord and get it over with. Ennis thought about just slipping out quietly, or if he had to push his way out, or run like hell, and leave everything. Well, nothing to leave that was his, anyways. Jack.
Lureen would probably let the land go, or sell it, but since it was Ennis's name on the deed, maybe he would try to pay the taxes. But those bonds. Cash them, I guess, send a check back or something. If she don't cash it, not my fucking problem.
The idea of a ranch. Okay, Jack, you had it a little easier, hell of a lot easier then me, but that's me, and you is you, and this damn crawling in the sack together. Like crawling in with a woman, gets you nothing but trouble. But what does a man live for, other than to dream? Try for something better.
Jack, old buddy, get out of Hell and come help me...or I'll change places with you, and you can have your dream.
Like the preacher always says, Jesus came to earth for the sinners, and he didn't want to go to the cross or nothing like that, but He did. Damn preacher says its cause He loves us. Jack, I love you, you know, we are the best god damned hunting and fishing buddies God ever made. More than that, hunting and fishing, but buddies, all kind of buddies, thick and thin.
Ennis wished for, needed, a drink. But he had promised Alma Junior. If only he had promised Jack, then there would be no gut wrenching now.
No sense crying, no sense escaping.
Dusk was coming. Lureen left Ennis alone. Hell, she could have left the house for all Ennis knew. Didn't hear no gunshot, so she ain't using the .45.
"Well, cowboy, Mister Ennis DelMar?" came the voice and Ennis looked up to see her.
"Don't know. Ain't easy."
"Mister DelMar, who has been the best, the worst, the meanest, the dumbest, the smartest, the laziest and hardest worker on any job? Who is the one first to start work, and the last to stop work. Any of that sound like anyone you have worked with?"
"Hmmm," he wondered. "Well, they're either smart or dumb, hard workers or laggards, some never show. No one I ever seen. Guess they all take the cake one way or the other."
"No, Mister Delmar, it is when YOU are the owner, the BOSS, and only YOU."
Ennis had to think on it. Never owned much. Never had that problem.
"Well, ma’am, you need a foreman. Ain't the best, ain't the worse. For Jack, I guess."
"Jack always said you were the best cook, next to his mother."
"Yeah, not too many complaints."
"Jack said you made a can of beans taste like manna from heaven."
"Wouldn't go that far. Potatoes and beans were about all we had on Brokeback. Guess there was that elk, and beer and whiskey, but I didn't make none of that."
Lureen left, going to the kitchen and came back. A platter in her hand showed two big, and Ennis does mean big, steaks. "The grill is outside. You should have no trouble making a hot fire in the grill, and when its ready, let me know and I will bring these out. Salad, potato?"
"Well, no beans."
They laughed. Ennis went to the patio, as they call it, found what he needed and built a good charcoal fire. Black at the beginning, but growing white with age, and when the hand couldn't be held for more than Two Mississippi, it were ready.
"Rare," Lureen said.
Ennis did the job well, and so did the microwave on the potatoes, and a salad, bowl almost as big as a washtub. And Texas toast of course. Candles lit, table cloth, china and silver. They dined, and yeah, a little bit of red wine ain't like whiskey. But warms a guy, and a girl.
Short of picking up the bone and gnawing on it, he was stuffed, and amazed that Lureen could pack it away better than him. Better not, thought he, get into a drinking match with this lady, or he may be the one under the table.
"Cherry cake?" she asked.
"Don't know where I will put it."
"Jack's favorite. His mother's recipe. Seems like I would make one, and Jack would eat it all up in a day or so. Did you know cherry cake was Jack's favorite?"
"Well, his Ma offered me some when I was up there," Ennis answered, but too ashamed to tell her he had not eaten any. Then again, if he had known it were Jack's favorite, he'd have had a big piece. But he didn't know. Just like he didn't know Jack would be dead.
Lureen cut Ennis a slice, half the size that Jack would take, and he ate it. Good. But there is a limit to what the stomach will take. And that fancy dishwasher did its job again.
They rested in the living room. Not saying much, but Ennis was doing his thinking. He finally breathed a heavy sigh and said, "You know, ma’am, Jack was always talking about his ranch and, well, me sort of helping, like that foreman you said, and if I had said yes, old Jack would still be alive."
"Ennis, it is like my grandmother told me a long time ago. When you play the IF game, you will win lots of IF's, and get real good at the game. But when you go to cash all those IF's in, all you're going to get is more regrets than you can spend in a lifetime. I have or had a lot of IF's with Jack, more than you, but it is sometimes wise to listen to your grandmother."
"Yes, ma’am."
The meal was setting in, the sun had been down for a while. Could have almost used a fire, but it was hot enough.
"Well, ma’am," Ennis finally decided and rose from Jack's chair. "Should be going?"
"It's late. You are not driving in the night?"
"No, ma’am, maybe a while and get a motel, I guess."
"Would you honor me, and stay a night, in Jack's room, I've kept it his way since..."
Ennis breathed heavy. Maybe ain't proper, you know, a widow, a strange man, hell she sleeps with a .45. "Please, breakfast in the morning, Texas style, Texas hospitality. Jack, I think never really liked Texas, but I cannot have you leaving without knowing what Texas is really like."
"What will, you know, the neighbors, think and all?"
"Let them think."
"Well, ma’am, I guess. Ain't got nothing to get back to--right away that is."
It was settled. Ennis, sort of glad to save the money, not really wanting to leave Jack's house, well Lureen's, he guessed, would be the last time here. He went to his truck, got the bag Alma Junior had prepared for him ... and sure glad he had it.
They retired to separate rooms, Lureen to hers, Ennis, well, to Jack's. Doors were closed, and in time, her light went out.
Ennis sat down in the chair. It rocked a bit. Maybe sleep in the chair, he thought. Jack's letter was poking him in the back, and he thought better get the reading over. Ennis opened the envelope, and took out the pages.
PAGE 1. Hey good buddy. Its ranch time.
PAGE 2. Ennis, if you're reading this, then I am dead, or you are dead and found your way into my bank box. We can have a good life together, on OUR ranch. Of course, to make it succeed we need to have a Joe Aguirre, to run things, and keep them running smooth. Congratulations old buddy. Grow a mustache, or grow some boobs and call yourself Lureen. Kick my ass when needed, cause I plan to be the ranch stiff--never been anything but. And if there comes a time that YOU need a Joe Aguirre on your fucking ass, then I am the man to do it, and buddy, I kick ass real good....and you know I can do it!
PAGE 3. Ennis, maybe some family history is in order. My granddad killed all the Indians and took their land, if you care to believe that. He had two kids, and everyone knew when he died, Uncle Harold got half, and my Ma got half. Brother and Sister. She told me her half would be mine some day, and when
some day comes, Ennis, it will be OURS. There have been times we have been welded together--our cocks and balls--(goddamnit Jack, who the fuck might read this).
At any rate, a single woman who would someday inherit lots of land was a handsome prize back then. So, Pa shows up, and marries her. And I come along. Asked Ma one time if he was my real Pa, and she wouldn't answer me. Didn't say yes, didn't say no. And she didn't knock me silly for asking the question either. Probably the reason the old man hates me so is because I ain't. Just as well, I wouldn't want to be none of him no how.
But Ma is a shrewd woman, don't let her fool you. Fools a lot of folks, its easy for her to do. But she never put the old man's name on the deed, and the lawyer she uses made sure her will won't never be broke. So the old man is stuck, and hating every minute of it.
PAGE 4. Ennis I kept my plans on paper, and they are back home, folks house, my room upstairs, in the closet. Jesus, Ennis, do I have to draw you a map. If you can find your shirt, sorry about stealing it back on Brokeback, but hey, man, thought I would never see you again, (goddamnit Jack, who the fuck might read this shit?) At any rate, find my/your shirt, and you can find my diaries and plans and all. P.S. Ma knows where they are at, just in case. Ask her. Nothing hid there.
PAGE 5. Well, good buddy, sign this. I, Ennis DelMar, a good man, promises a good life, on the ranch. (There was a place for Ennis to sign, an X and a line struck.)
Ennis you are a man of your word, just getting it out of you is the problem. Make OUR, well, Ennis, it is our dream, ain't it, come true. Show them all, we ain't no ranch stiffs. Jack.
PAGE 6. Ennis, I want so bad to go back to Wyoming, where I belong, and you too. Dig me up if have to. Jack.
P.S. Always liked Brokeback Mountain, mainly because it was OUR FIRST (goddamnit Jack, watch what you're writing). But wherever, as long as it ain't Texas. I'll be happy. Lightning Flat ain't bad. Its home, for me. Could be yours too!!!
PAGE 7. And Ennis, twin, we both come from the same mother's womb. I came first, I guess. I had to coax you out, though, telling you it ain't a bad world out here, but it's tough, and got its rules.
And there ain't one goddamn thing I can do to help you. You gotta do it all by yourself. Ennis, get borned.
And I know that damn umbilical cord is still attached. Its tugs on you, most constantly I suspects, yanks now and then to remind you. Think it may have also yanked you right back into that damn womb many times, but you came out, nonetheless.
Twin....we're from the same cloth, as they say, though not sure what they really mean by it. Love.
***
Jack ain't no can of beans where you enjoy the good part, and throw the can away like trash.
Enough reading for one night. He put the letter into the bottom of the bag, and figured it could stay there for a long while. Ennis did the pajama thing, guess that's what you're suppose to do, then lifted the blankets and slowly entered the bed. Hell, if Jack were for real there, Ennis would have had his clothes off and before lightning could hit, next to that warm sonofagun. Ennis looked at the bed, though, well, I've slept with Jack a hundred times. Sure, his bed, but sure as hell, won't be here tonight. Goddamnit.
Ennis weren't no bloodhound, but he could smell Jack. Jack's smells, and it relaxed him. He held the sheets over his nose and breathed. Ain't no finer smell, he thought. He slept, but in the night was sure he felt a warm hand on his back, his thighs, his ass. But no one was there, just memories.
In the morning he woke, but heard no sounds in the house, and felt Lureen was still sleeping. Wouldn't be right to just pack up and leave, without saying a proper good-bye and all. But in time, she began to stir.
She knocked on the door.
"Woke," he responded.
"There are towels in the bathroom. Then breakfast."
"Thank you ma’am."
Ennis showered, brushed teeth and shaved, even though not the proverbial Saturday night. Even some deodorant, and clean clothes...his, not Jack's, save them for better times.
Breakfast was eggs and toast, bacon and sausage and ham, jelly, coffee, strong black rich.
"Ennis, I do want to thank you for coming. I really appreciate it."
"Ma’am, Lureen, my pleasure."
"I have not had a good night's rest since Jack passed. But when your daughter called, it was almost like an answer to prayers. I didn't need the pills any more. I think Jack had been trying to tell me something all along."
"Well, ma’am, Lureen, I know what you mean."
"I am happy Jack is going back to Wyoming, where he belongs. I am so glad to have met you, Jack's good hunting and fishing buddy."
"Ma’am, if ever you need a thing, I am no more than a holler away."
"And one more thing I forgot," Lureen said as she sipped her coffee. "After Jack died, they brought his truck home. It has sat there ever since, and I have not moved it, been in it. Ennis, please take it."
"Ma’am, I got my own truck, and you can always use a truck, and maybe your boy wants it, or ..."
"I've already made out the title."
"Got my truck here, no way to get both of them home."
"Have you ever used a tow bar?"
"Ma’am, I don't go home without one, truck likes to break down a lot."
"Problem solved." She put the keys into his hand and closed the palm for him. "And I've packed the deed and bonds, and copies of the death certificate, you will need that to record the deed and cash the bonds."
"Ma’am, how the hell do you know I won't cheat you."
"Daddy always said the coyotes are a rich man's best friend, when it comes to the tax man, but not his partner. And if you want to drink it up, go ahead, and answer to Jack; not to me or anyone else, save yourself, of course."
"Ma’am."
"This was settled yesterday."
"Yes, ma’am."
Was it charity? Was it doing a friend a good deed? Was it being a friend? Was it more than Jack's dream; was it more than a dream?
"Ma’am?"
"Please, for once, call me Lureen."
"Okay, Lureen, could I get a picture of you, Alma Junior will want to see what you look like, and all, and Junior says I should take a picture of the grave, and all, have something to remember by, and all."
"Of course."
They road in Jack's truck...Ennis's new truck, I guess. Ennis did not have air conditioning in his, and even at this time of day, it was getting hot.
He drove and she directed him to the cemetery. Ennis knew he was going to tear up, but held it back. Grown men and their crying. Names Twist, Jack and Lureen, dates--well most of them, one still empty.
"I'll never marry again. Sort of given up on men."
"Well, Jack will be hard to replace, I know that."
Pictures were taken. The stone. The stone and Lureen. The stone and Ennis. An old woman drove by, and she took a couple of pictures of the stone, Lureen and Ennis, all together. Should have enough to keep Junior happy.
They returned to the house. They loaded the boxes of Jack's clothes, guns, and affects that they both agreed Jack would want Ennis to have. It was getting time to leave, parting is such sorrow. Ennis hooked the tow bar up, and at Lureen's insistence, the new truck was in front, and Ennis's in the rear.
Then Jack was taken down from the mantle. She cried and Ennis held her, tight like he would have held Jack. But finally, with a kiss on the box, handed it to Ennis.
"Trusting you to do the right things," she said.
"Don't worry, ma’am. I will."
"Maybe whatever Jack's parents will want?"
"Well, ma’am, Lureen, I reckon Jack's folks will want him buried, Christian-like. But I'll find something of Jack's to take up to Brokeback. Climb a lodgepole pine, and tack it up there. Maybe his hat? It'll be like him looking all over the mountains."
"Ennis, I want to go with you when you do. Leave something of mine as well."
"Ma’am, Lureen, kind of rugged, and we'll have to camp out, and ride horses."
"There's not a horse that can throw this girl. I am from Texas."
"Yes, ma’am, heard that said more than once."
Jack was placed on the seat, next to Ennis, and time was running out. Late, and fourteen hours, or more, towing a truck all the way home.
She kissed Ennis, on the cheek, holding him, he holding her, bonding. A few tears ran, from both, she wiping his, and he wiping hers.
"Be good to Jack."
"I know, or I'll get punched in the stomach."
She remained outside, looking down the road, until Ennis, the trucks, Jack was gone. One hurdle down, and many to go.
TBC