Ennis had never given a thought to whether Jack Twist was good-looking or not. But as his friend two-stepped back across the wooden floor of the cantina, swayin' and struttin', cuttin' the fool, Ennis noticed quite a few things he'd never let himself see before.

He saw the way Jack's long limbs moved fluidly to the music like a colt grown into his legs at last. He saw the white flash of Jack's pointed teeth bared in a crazy-happy grin that made the muscles twitch on either side of Ennis's mouth. He saw how blue Jack's eyes were and how they glowed like twilight on a fathomless mountain lake.

He also saw the leer on the face of the big guitarista with his black eyes glued to Jack's ass. A red film washed over the scene and Ennis welcomed the rage that pushed out the half-conscious musings on Jack's attractiveness. These were not the kind of thoughts he should be having and they disturbed him.

However, they didn't disturb him an iota as much as the smirk on that big mariachi's face as he watched Jack dance comically with a whore twice his age. Ennis could see right into the Mexican's mind, into the sweaty dark brown fantasies, Jack face down with his ass in the air, the big hombre slamming into him, Jack's small cries and whimpers as …

Jack felt the air change in the cantina, gaining weight like it did in the lull before a thunderstorm. His gaze went to Ennis at the bar, and he pushed his dance partner away a little too hard, sending her staggering into another couple. The whore protested hotly in rapid Spanish, but Jack wasn't there to hear.

Ennis was vibrating like a rattler's tail when Jack put a hand on his shoulder. Jack swore the man was throwing off more heat than a wood-burning stove. A cold, heaviness settled in Jack's gut when he saw that Ennis's big hands were clenched into fists. A brawl was not the entertainment Jack had in mind to end the evening with. Ennis was beat-up enough already from his daily chores, winced every time Jack squeezed him too tight.

"Ennis, please," Jack said, real soft so no one else could hear.

"You ain't seen the way that son a of bitch was lookin' at you," Ennis said through his teeth.

"Let him look at what he cain't have," Jack tried to make light of it.

"Hell I will," Ennis growled. "Lookit the fucker; he ain't took his eyes off your ass yet."

Jack stole a look over his shoulder and saw the hungry, knowing expression on the guitar player's dark face. It was an expression Jack was getting more familiar with. Ennis didn't understand why Jack favored this honky-tonk along the Tex-Mex border, and Jack hoped he never did. Jack didn't know why he'd brought Ennis here, and he didn't study it too hard.

"Let it be, Ennis. Let's you and me hightail it outta here. Find us a place."

Ennis's mind was flooded again with brief images as if illuminated by flashes of lightning. Jack on his hands and knees eager to be mounted. The sweet arc of Jack's proud flesh. Jack's face as he came looking over his shoulder.

"Please, Ennis," Jack said again, and Ennis snapped.

"Quit naggin' me; you ain't my wife."

Jack's face froze and his hand slid from Ennis's shoulder. "Don't I know it," he said as he turned and stomped to the door.

Ennis didn't move for several long moments, terrified that Jack's departure looked like the lover's spat that it was. Shaking his head like a fly-plagued horse, Ennis walked blindly after Jack, looking neither left nor right. Behind him he heard coarse laughter that he knew was the lustful mariachi's and he almost turned back.

The glimpse of Jack's red and white plaid shirt through the doorway decided Ennis. He made it outside as a dark green pickup stopped beside Jack. The driver leaned out the window and smiled around the toothpick he was chewing on.

"Y'all need a ride?"

"No, he don't," Ennis said before he call the words back.

"Easy there, stud," the beefy stranger said. "Didn't see your brand."

"You wanna move on now," Ennis said.

"Sure enough. Don't do nothin' I wouldn't do, boys." Chuckling, the stranger took his foot off the clutch and drove on.

Ennis didn't dare take hold of Jack, but his look was enough to convince the other man to come with him. They walked down the weedy verge of the cracked blacktop to the dusty motel that catered mainly to migrant workers. Ennis waited while Jack went into the tiny office and came back with a key.

"God damn you, Ennis del M+ar!" Jack shouted as soon as the door was closed.

Ennis moved toward him, hands held before him palms out in supplication. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, reaching for Jack.

Jack knocked Ennis's scarred, nicked hands away. "No, boy. You don't get to make it all right with your dick this time. You cain't fuck me outta this mood."

"Jack, you know I never mean to hurt you."

"But ya do. Ya always do before it's over."

Ennis didn't know what to say. He never did. He could only stand there while the one he loved more than anything he'd ever thought he loved bled like a lamb run into barbed wire. Again, he tried to take Jack in his arms and comfort him. Jack was having none of it.

"Ya just don't get it, do ya, cowpoke? I ain't here 'cause you fuck better'n anybody I ever … that ain't why I'm with you, and if you don't know that then …"

Ennis was torn as Jack's words trailed off, and he knew he would tear himself up some more later when Jack was gone again and he went home to Riverton. He couldn't give Jack what Jack wanted and that sure stung, but he knew that there was nothing to be done about it. He was the way the he was; the world was the way it was, and that was that.

"Little darlin'," Ennis said, barely loud enough to be heard, but Jack lifted his head.

Their eyes met and a message was exchanged, so complicated it would have Einstein scratching his head. They collided midway, wrapping arms around one another, tearing at clothing, kisses like striking snakes. And one more time the spark between them ignited an internal combustion that temporarily burned away all fear and inhibition.

Jack was surprised and his eyes watered when Ennis's hand covered his on his hard dick. Ennis leaned heavily on Jack as he increased the speed of the stroke, inside and outside of Jack. The tender concession on Ennis's part brought Jack quickly to a peak he'd never visited, lifting him out of himself for a moment that stretched out like the plains.

Ennis laid his cheek between Jack's shoulder blades and groaned deep in his chest as his seed unfurled deep inside the other man. As usual, Ennis pulled out as soon as he came and rolled onto his back, taking Jack with him. Normally, Jack was content to lie there until Ennis's arm fell asleep, but tonight he reached for his cigarettes right away.

"How 'bout one a them for me?"

Jack lit two, and put one between Ennis's lips. They blew silver blue plumes into the static air of the little room. Ennis could feel Jack working up to saying something and tried to forestall whatever doom awaited him.

"I wish things was different."

"Well, they ain't. Look here, Ennis. I don't know if what we're doin' is right or wrong, but …"

"I sure as hell know," Ennis interrupted. "It's wrong, and you know it, too, Jack Twist. You knew it when ya put my hand on your dick that night on Brokeback. But ya done it anyway. And God help me, I was glad ya did. I was half-sick with wantin' ya, even if I didn't know what it was that I wanted."

"I wish I could just …"

Ennis put his arm around Jack and pulled him to lie against his chest. "I ain't blamin' you, Jack. This ain't nobody's fault. Somethin' happened to us up there and it ain't goin' away."

"Reckon not. But I sure wish …"

"Shhh." Ennis crushed out his smoke and put both arms around Jack.

And the dust settled again.

Ennis held Jack, absently stroking the thick springy hair, humming softly, the sad old melody meandering through the music coming faintly through the wall. Cigarette smoked laddered the bars of moonlight that stretched across the floor, not quite touching the sanctuary of the bed. After a while, Jack's whiskey laden breathing evened out, and Ennis knew he slept.

Cars and highballin' semi-tractor-trailers roared by on the highway like never ending waves on a beach, all of them carrying folks with someplace to go. While Ennis and Jack lay tangled together like storm wrack on some foreign shore, marooned and disadvantaged. They would never be like the people that surrounded them.

And that difference scared the bejeezus out of Ennis. He imagined that it was visible, like a wart, or other blemish, that someone would someday notice. That would be all it took to sign a death warrant for a couple of queers. If only he could make Jack believe this.

Ennis sighed and reached for the pack on the rickety nightstand. He knew that he and Jack would have this argument again, and that each dustup would get more vinegary. There was nothing he could do about that either. But right now, Jack was warm against his side. He could feel the steady beat of Jack's heart close to his. And morning was hours away.

The End