Ennis’s Bull

Characters: Ennis/Jack (in flashback) John Twist, Ma Twist, Alma Jr, The Bull
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3,405
Summary: Originally written for Halloween and intended as a ghost story. The story grew into something else. I guess we can call it a BBM fantasy story.
Warning: Dead!Jack

Disclaimer: All characters except for the bull belong to Annie Proulx. The story was written purely for entertainment purposes because I love Ennis and Jack.

Ennis heard the door closed behind him and heard the door closed inside of him. Twenty years gone and what he had left of that life with Jack, he carried close to his chest, wrapped in a brown paper bag in his arm.

Ennis stumbled on a rock in the pathway on his way to his truck. The winds swirled around him; flying across the plains, bending the tips of dried brown grass and weeds in its wake. It ain’t right, he thought, slumping and frowning. Jack should rest in peace, be buried where he wanted to be. It ain’t right for that man to deny Jack his rightful burial place.

Ennis gazed out all around him through stinging tears, at the ranch at Lightnin Flat. Really saw. For the first nineteen years of Jack’s life, this was his home. Surrounded by miles and miles of land with nothing on it but stark, vacant ranches. In the middle of the desolation was this one place. Jack’s home, struggling to retain the past of a working ranch that no longer had the prospect of the past. It sat as lonely as a bear with no cub. It was the knowing that killed Ennis, though. Jack would never walk this land again.

He drove down the road he figured Jack had taken a hundred times, escaping from the bleak existence and yet, returning time and again, seeing to his ma, trying to make peace with his daddy, and success on that concern failed miserably. Why didn’t you tell me, rodeo? Ennis’s mind tricking him up when he didn’t a want to think on it. A sweet life, Ennis. Us having our own calf and cow operation. Jack had been some dreamer.

Almost sixteen years that man had been asking Ennis. He’d been too stubborn to listen, too afraid because the world said people like him and Jack could never live together like normal folks. The tire irons would get them for sure. Then one day time had slipped up on Ennis, passing through years of seasonal changes, he realized Jack had stopped asking him.

“You didn’t tell me everything.” Ennis cried out to the inside of his truck. And maybe he did, Ennis remembering when he’d seen Jack last. ‘Guess I’ll head on up to Lightnin Flat. See the folks for a day or two.’ Jack had told Ennis. It was an invitation that wasn’t an invitation. Jack reshaping his words asking but not asking. Come with me. We could have some sweet life, together.

The stud duck had known. Had said back there as he sat at the kitchen table with a face made of stone until he spitted fire out at Ennis. ‘”I can’t get no help out here. Jack used a say, ‘Ennis del Mar,’ he used a say, ‘I’m goin a bring him up here one a these days and we’ll lick this damn ranch into shape.’ He had some half-baked idea the two a you was goin a move up here, build a log cabin and help me run this ranch and bring it up.”’

“Goddamn you, Jack Twist. Couldn a keep your mouth shut.” Ennis heart filled up with cold and he thought he’d shatter from the longing of what he’d lost, on what could’ve been if he’d given into chance, a life with Jack on Lightnin Flat.

It was too much, thinking on never seeing those blue eyes laughing at him or feeling the peace enveloping him every time Jack touched him. Ennis slammed on the brakes, truck tires crunching over gravel in the road. He steered the truck to the side of the road, pulled on the brakes, opened the door and slid out, taking the shirts with him. Ennis found his way to the other side of the truck.

With tears leaking down his face, Ennis sank to the ground clutching the shirts to his chest. He ended up with knees, each pointing to the sides of his body, almost crossed legged. Ennis hutching over, head slouching down to the ground, holding on tight to the bloody fabric in his lap as though he could do what he couldn’t do when Jack was alive, protect him, protect them, those two shirts a symbol of what they were to each other.

Thunder broke through the sky and the winds picked up speed. Ennis had sense enough to lift up his head and foggy eyes saw cows standing against the backdrop of the mountains. They roamed the grass and nipped at it, the increasing spiral of winds a gnat against their bodies.

Out there from nowhere a black cow showed itself. It lumbered on, heading up through the grass to Ennis. Dust, dirt, gravel twisting in its path, like some mirage, as though it was normal, like it knew exactly what it was doing. Ennis unafraid, feeling too deeply, not caring about a thing. Strange, the cloud of dirt twisted over the cow’s head. Maybe it was his time to go. Can’t standing living, no how.

The cow turned out to be a bull and it came straight up to Ennis, not too close but close enough. With it huge majestic body, it slowly folded its legs under its body, the underside belly slid down to the ground. The bull looked straight into Ennis’s eyes.

“Ennis, you son-of-a-bitch, stopped that moping around,” it said.

Tears wind-dried on Ennis’s face. “Jack.” He whispered. He saw that the eyes on the bull were as blues as the clear skies, just like Jack’s.

“Yeah, it’s me. Come ta pay ya a visit.”

Ennis rocked back and forth, the shirts contorting in his fists. He’d heard grief could drive people to craziness, kill them even.

“See you found our shirts. I ain’t apologizing fer taking yours. Had t’have something of ya. Missed ya so damn much those early years.”

“Now you gone and left me, Jack.” The tears started back up again. “Didn’t give me no chance to protect ya. I know them tire irons kilt ya. I just know it.”

“Don’t matter now. What’s done is done. It’s you, cowboy. You hafta make your way in life. Be strong. Live. Don’t let my goin shrink you into nothin til I can’t recognize my own Ennis. Look around ya.”

He did. He saw death and he saw life. The mountains over the horizon stood strong and tall. “Ya shoulda told me. About Lightnin Flat.”

“I tried, cowboy. I surely did. But ya wouldn’t a listen. It ain’t too late to start afresh.” The bull pulled up its legs, one by one, stood like a rock against the striking winds. Its body swerved to the side. Ennis knew it was leaving.

“Don’t go.” Ennis cried out.

“M’time is up. Wanna say one last thing to ya. Those words we ain’t had the heart to say to each other. I love ya, Ennis. Love ya like I ain’t never love anyone else.”

Jack, the bull, gaited away from Ennis taking the dirt, dust, the wind blow with him. Walked on back to them cows still grazing on the grass.

Ennis screamed, didn’t bother on wondering whether the mirage was real or not. Didn’t matter. He said the words, the words he hadn’t realized were true until now. “I love ya, Jack Twist.”

“`

People said: you know that Ennis del Mar. He sure changed some.

The difference in him was miniscule; he talked even less, his face aged, the fine lines building up to scraggy. He held himself so tight he walked bowed down. The swooping Wyoming winds could blow him right over.

Those were the comments Alma Jr would heard on the streets of Riverton when the best time of the day were minding other people’s business. She knew the truth, though. Broke her heart hearing her father destroy the image she had of him. Once she became used to the idea her father had been in love with… Still, it was hard for her to say the words, so many pieces of his life had fallen in place.

She wondered at his opening up to her. She saw her father disappear little by little down to skin and bones, not that he’d much weight to begin with. She visited her father as often as she could despite being pregnant with her second child. Cooked his meals when she was able, cajoled him into eating, Alma Jr wrapped her father up with love, as much as he would allow.

The day came, though, when Ennis’s grief turned into strangeness. Sitting alone in that trailer with little warmth, Ennis said to Alma. “I gotta go.”

“Go where, daddy?”

“Away from here, darlin.” Ennis arms came around his chest and hugged himself, rocking back and forth in the chair.

“I don’t understand,” she said. The worry for her father had grown over the years. There were times she talked and he grunted in response as though the words had choked in his throat and he didn’t know how to get them out.

“I love you and Jenny. You have here your life. There’s a need inside of me I cain’t hardly explain. I just gotta leave here.”

“Daddy. You’re scaring me.”

“Don’t worry, baby girl,” and Ennis reached out to his daughter. Alma went to her father and he grasped her hands between his calloused ones and squeezed. “All a goin to be fine.”

Ennis did disappear. His absence was like a slow drip from a melting ice block. It dripped and dripped and no one paid attention because they didn’t have a need for ice. But when they did, they’d notice the ice had gone to nothing.

People said: Have ya seen Ennis del Mar? No. I haven’t seen him in a month of a Sunday.

“`

Jack used to say no one could please his father. True enough. John Twist had been one embittered man. That embitterment came with his allotment in life and living on land that was beautiful and harsh at the same time.

His go at rodeoing had given him some degree of success. But when his wife had gotten pregnant, his days of rodeoing were over. “Can’t raise a child on the money made from riding bulls,” John told his wife. So, he’d settled for second best and had taken over the ranch that had had been in his wife’s family for generations. Even that went to shit as every thing else around Lightnin Flat went to shit.

He’d stayed on that land and was a husband to his wife and a father to his son, letting what was dished out to him sank deeper in the bones as the years went by. That son of his, he wasn’t what he’d expected, never could do anything right, sucked up the life from his wife, left him with his leave taking. Pansy assed.

Dinner eaten, John Twist stepped out to the porch of his home and set his gaze on the plains. A hot cup of coffee warmed his hands. He heard scratching noise and felt more than he saw the screen door swinging open behind him. The wife came out and stood next to her husband.

“You finished up in there?” John said conversationally and took a sip of coffee.

“All done,” she said, standing flushed against John’s side. That wife of his kept his home sparkling.

They stood quiet observing the scenery, their shoulders touching lightly. She said, “I never thought I woulda see the day.” Her eyes seemed to follow the same line of trail as John’s.

“Yep.” He replied with some satisfaction.

All around them, the ranch showed life. The broken down barn needing repairs for years gleamed in the fading light from its fairly new coat of white paint. The porch they were on had been extended and drawn around to one side of the house giving them another view of the land. Two part-time ranch hands were corralling cows in the far distance.

“He did well by us, John.” There was a catch in her voice and he put a hand on the tip of her thin shoulder blade and squeezed gently, before letting it dropped to his side.

“Sure enough.” Was all that John said. He knew full well what she was referring to. It was a hard thing to swallow knowing on some level he shoulda done right by his son. The other one didn’t hesitate to let him know his feelings on the matter. Let him know the moment he’d shown up and knocked him flat on his ass. John had thought for sure he would be eating a fist for supper.

“You got dem papers ready?” She asked.

“That lawyer man said they be done in a few days.”

“Think he’s goin t’give us trouble?”

“With that one, hard to tell. But I’ll make him see.”

How was the question. That boy ain’t no easy talker. Put them both in the same room and about twenty words spread between them. Just laid the cards on the table, he thought. Boy got some pride and a tough vein running up and down the thin back. Could get stiff as a board when shoved too hard.

After all those years, some memories would never fade like Ennis’s fist stopping short of connecting to his face. The other memory, sad feelings and the inability t’forgive. When his maker called his number, John had a lot of talking to do, more like begging. Wasn’t Jack’s fault he wasn’t the man he wanted in a son. Wasn’t Jack’s fault he had despised his own son. He didn’t want no kid. Didn’t like the attention the wife stored on the boy. Jack was weak and as his father it was his responsibility to show him differently and tried to teach him to be a man.

It took years working with Ennis to learn there were some things he shoulda let be, some things he shoulda understood.

“It’s only right we a pass our legacy on to him.”

“Don’t doubt that a bit,” he said.

“Thank you, John.” She leaned over and he felt her dried, withered lips on his cheeks. And that was one more thing different as their world had changed with his coming, the wife’s regards for him.

The silence between them was companionable.

The sky lit up in orange and purple rays as the sun set behind the mountains. Out there on the plains, they could see a man sitting on top of a horse. One of the ranch hands rode up and reined in his horse next to Ennis. They talked some. John couldn’t hear the conversation. He wasn’t too concern. Then the worker rode off leaving Ennis but he wasn’t alone.

It had appeared the same day Ennis drove up the one road to the ranch. Surprised, John never gave it a thought about the queer coming back to Lightnin’ Flat. Jack being dead goin on four years. John could barely tolerate the sight of Ennis and the thoughts that ran through his mind. Could never stand knowing about his son and his ways. But the beaten down man, skinnier than a fence pole, hair dirtier than mud, and his face, aged and etched in sour grapes, came to say his piece. Told John the reason why he was there. John had said, “Get the fuck off ma land, you god damn faggot.”

That was when he’d landed flat on the ground and for the first time in years, felt the throttle of fear. Ennis had said standing over him, “For Jack and for the disrespect you givin him, I ought to beat you seven feet deep in the dirt.” And when John could do nothing but gawk, Ennis pulled back, shaking his fist and said, “For Jack, he’s the reason I’m here.”

Ennis came and stayed, and with his staying, came the weirdness. The bull strutted up the road the same day and parked its big, hulking body on his land, permanently.

At first, John had given it no never mind, he had been too busy being damn angry at Ennis, who seemed to have taken a liking to the bull. But John felt a pull toward it. Felt the mixture of fear and the apprehension threading up and down his spine every time he got near it. Seemed like everywhere John went the bull would show up and stare at him. It never came too close and the need to get rid of it, strong.

One day he’d gone into the barn to stack hay. The two doors wide open, the bull had gaited on through as it pleased. Scared shitless, John ain’t ever seen a bull in his barn unless he’d coaxed one inside. He wanted to run, wanted to get out of its way but the bull had some idea of what it wanted and blocked his escape. It sat down on the barn floor, staring at John.

John looked straight into blue eyes. He gasped, grabbed at the spot of his thumping heart.

“Settle down, old man. Ain’t goin a hurt ya.”

“Jack?” John had whispered.

“It’s me. Done rose up in spirit, after all. I guess, momma’s Pentecost had a shine on me.”

“Can’t be. It ain’t real.”

“Your fault. You shoulda obliged me. I hafta thank ya.”

“What fer?” John slipped to the barn’s floor. He was sitting eye level with the bull, or rather Jack, or whatever the hell it was.

“If you had a buried me right like, I couldn’t be here with Ennis. Hafta make sure he lives on strong. Maybe one day he a find him somebody and be happy. But you, old man. I seen you with the shotgun. Knows what’cha thinking.”
John wildly shook his head in denial. Tears of stress and fear flinging off his face. “Now I know. Can’t do it.”

“I imagined you won’t. If I go, everything goes.”

John knew the truth when he heard it, thinking on how Ennis gradually changed from rundown to quiet happiness. “You came back for him, and for your ma.” He knew the answer before it was given. Made him feel something terrible.

“For you too, daddy. Always wanna make this ranch right, bring it back to the way it was. Couldn’t do it when I was Jack, no matter how hard I tried.”

John really cried, poured out his grief for the mean years, for the terrible way he’d treated his son, and still the boy had loved him. Wiping away snot and tears on the back of his sleeves, he asked, “Ya mind being buried here?”

“Naw. My Brokeback is right here.” The bull stood up slowly and glared at John with blue sparkling eyes. Then it turned around and went back out the way it came. Just like that, nothing more said, nothing asked.

John never mentioned his encounter with the bull to his wife. For days on end, she had asked him was something bothering him. He reassured her, told everything was fine. John kept an eye out for his wife, watched her closely whenever she got near the bull. Nothing happened. He thought maybe he was goin crazy.

Later that day after the incident in the barn, Ennis came by and gave him a strange look. He asked frowning at John. “You aw right?”

“I’m fine, Ennis.” Calling the boy by his given name for the first time.

Something had passed between John and Ennis, and John knew Ennis understood. He wasn’t the only one witnessing the weird anomaly.

John stopped calling Ennis names and never said another bad word to the man. The ranch continued to flourish and life went on.

“He’s coming in now,” his wife said. John had forgotten she was standing next to him.

“Yep.” He watched Ennis slowly making his way back to the ranch house. The bull ambling along beside him. John drained his cup of cooled coffee.

Tomorrow he was going to tell Ennis about the will, that at the time both he and his wife had passed on to the other side, the land would be his. For now, he gave a silent thanks to the man his son had loved, the man that had brought life back to them.

John straightened up over the porch’s railing, watching as Ennis and his bull came closer to home.

End

ETA: Just wanted to note there are a couple of passages quoted from Annie Proulx’s BBM story.

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