to know them。〃〃Try this one；〃 said Jack； 〃and I'll say it just one time。 Tell you what； we could a had a good life together； a ****in real good life。 You wouldn't do it； Ennis； so what we got now is Brokeback Mountain。 Everthing built on that。 It's all we got； boy； ****in all； so I hope you know that if you don't never know the rest。 Count the damn few times we been together in twenty years。 Measure the ****in short leash you keep me on； then ask me about Mexico and then tell me you'll kill me for needin it and not hardly never gettin it。 You got no ****in idea how bad it gets。 I'm not you。 I can't make it on a couple a high…altitude ****s once or twice a year。 You're too much for me； Ennis； you son of a whoreson *****。 I wish I knew how to quit you。〃Like vast clouds of steam from thermal springs in winter the years of things unsaid and now unsayable admissions； declarations； shames； guilts； fears rose around them。 Ennis stood as if heart…shot； face grey and deep…lined； grimacing； eyes screwed shut； fists clenched； legs caving； hit the ground on his knees。
〃Jesus；〃 said Jack。 〃Ennis？〃 But before he was out of the truck； trying to guess if it was heart attack or the overflow of an incendiary rage； Ennis was back on his feet and somehow； as a coat hanger is straightened to open a locked car and then bent again to its original shape； they torqued things almost to where they had been； for what they'd said was no news。 Nothing ended； nothing begun； nothing resolved。
What Jack remembered and craved in a way he could neither help nor understand was the time that distant summer on Brokeback when Ennis had e up behind him and pulled him close； the silent embrace satisfying some shared and sexless hunger。
They had stood that way for a long time in front of the fire； its burning tossing ruddy chunks of light； the shadow of their bodies a single column against the rock。 The minutes ticked by from the round watch in Ennis's pocket； from the sticks in the fire settling into coals。 Stars bit through the wavy heat layers above the fire。 Ennis's breath came slow and quiet； he hummed； rocked a little in the sparklight and Jack leaned against the steady heartbeat； the vibrations of the humming like faint electricity and； standing； he fell into sleep that was not sleep but something else drowsy and tranced until Ennis； dredging up a rusty but still useable phrase from the childhood time before his mother died； said； 〃Time to hit the hay； cowboy。 I got a go。 e on； you're sleepin on your feet like a horse；〃 and gave Jack a shake； a push； and went off in the darkness。 Jack heard his spurs tremble as he mounted； the words 〃see you tomorrow；〃 and the horse's shuddering snort； grind of hoof on stone。
Later； that dozy embrace solidified in his memory as the single moment of artless； charmed happiness in their separate and difficult lives。 Nothing marred it； even the knowledge that Ennis would not then embrace him face to face because he did not want to see nor feel that it was Jack he held。 And maybe； he thought； they'd never got much farther than that。 Let be； let be。
Ennis didn't know about the accident for months until his postcard to Jack saying that November still looked like the first chance came back stamped DECEASED。 He called Jack's number in Childress； something he had done only once before when Alma divorced him and Jack had misunderstood the reason for the call； had driven twelve hundred miles north for nothing。 This would be all right； Jack would answer； had to answer。 But he did not。 It was Lureen and she said who？ who is this？ and when he told her again she said in a level voice yes； Jack was pumping up a flat on the truck out on a back road when the tire blew up。 The bead was damaged somehow and the force of the explosion slammed the rim into his face； broke his nose and jaw and knocked him unconscious on his back。 By the time someone came along he had drowned in his own blood。
No； he thought； they got him with the tire iron。
〃Jack used to mention you；〃 she said。 〃You're the fishing buddy or the hunting buddy； I know that。 Would have let you know；〃 she said； 〃but I wasn't sure about your name and address。 Jack kept most a his friends' addresses in his head。 It was a terrible thing。 He was only thirty…nine years old。〃The huge sadness of the northern plains rolled down on him。 He didn't know which way it was； the tire iron or a real accident； blood choking down Jack's throat and nobody to turn him over。 Under the wind drone he heard steel slamming off bone； the hollow chatter of a settling tire rim。
〃He buried down there？〃 He wanted to curse her for letting Jack die on the dirt road。
The little Texas voice came slip…sliding down the wire。 〃We put a stone up。 He use to say he wanted to be cremated； ashes scattered on Brokeback Mountain。 I didn't know where that was。 So he was cremated； like he wanted； and like I say； half his ashes was interred here； and the rest I sent up to his folks。 I thought Brokeback Mountain was around where he grew up。 But knowing Jack； it might be some pretend place where the bluebirds sing and there's a whiskey spring。〃〃We herded sheep on Brokeback one summer；〃 said Ennis。 He could hardly speak。
〃Well； he said it was his place。 I thought he meant to get drunk。 Drink whiskey up there。 He drank a lot。〃〃His folks still up in Lightnin Flat？〃
〃Oh yeah。 They'll be there until they die。 I never met them。 They didn't e down for the funeral。 You get in touch with them。 I suppose they'd appreciate it if his wishes was carried out。〃No doubt about it； she was polite but the little voice was cold as snow。
The road to Lightning Flat went through desolate country past a dozen abandoned ranches distributed over the plain at eight… and ten…mile intervals； houses sitting blank…eyed in the weeds； corral fences down。 The mailbox read John C。 Twist。 The ranch was a meagre little place； leafy spurge taking over。 The stock was too far distant for him to see their condition； only that they were black baldies。 A porch stretched across the front of the tiny brown stucco house； four rooms； two down； two up。
Ennis sat at the kitchen table with Jack's father。 Jack's mother； stout and careful in her movements as though recovering from an operation； said； 〃Want some coffee； don't you？ Piece a cherry cake？〃〃Thank you； ma'am； I'll take a cup a coffee but I can't eat no cake just now。〃The old man sat silent； his hands folded on the plastic tablecloth； staring at Ennis with an angry； knowing expression。 Ennis recognized in him a not unmon type with the hard need to be the stud duck in the pond。 He couldn't see much of Jack in either one of them； took a breath。
〃I feel awful bad about Jack。 Can't begin to say how bad I feel。 I knew him a long time。 I e by to tell you that if you want me to take his ashes up there on Brokeback like his wife says he wanted I'd be proud to。〃There was a silence。 Ennis cleared his throat but said nothing more。
The old man said； 〃Tell you what； I know where Brokeback Mountain is。 He thought he was too goddamn special to be buried in the family plot。〃Jack's mother ignored this； said； 〃He used a e home every year； even aft