Resurrection: Chapter Five

Resurrection
Pairing: Jack/Ennis AU
Rating: NC-17 for the story
Summary: This picks up right at the moment in the canon that Ennis receives that infamous post card informing him of Jack's death ... but this is not a Jack!Dead story. This idea is not completely original, but I believe that my interpretation of it is something fresh, uncliche-ed, and enjoyable. Please feel free to leave fair and honest feedback.
Disclaimer: Inspiration for this story and all characters belong to Annie Proulx.
Author's Note: Sadly, this fic is unfinished, and will most likely remain that way. I started this story without knowing where I was going with it--never a good idea. I lost my inspiration for writing it, and couldn't motivate myself to take the time to finish it. Sorry, readers, you'll have to imagine your own ending for this Jack and Ennis.
 
Chapter Five

Three days had passed since Jack had left Lureen alone in their bed at two-thirty in the morning, and nothing had changed.  The police had taken Jack’s attackers in for questioning, but released them on the pretext that they didn’t have adequate evidence to hold or accuse them.  Lureen knew that this was bullshit, but had been expecting the lack of proper attention to Jack’s case.  She was depending on Tom for help here, but he continued to be passive.  And Jack was just as miserable and distant as ever.

Lureen had known Tom for nearly as long as she had known Jack.  He was the legal representative for the Newsome company, had been for the past ten years.  He and Lureen had always gotten along well.  Lureen liked him for his down-to-earth, no-nonsense nature.  He got things done quickly, efficiently, and discreetly.  He was sneaky too: when a client had a serious complaint or even an accusation, Tom dealt with the situation in a manner that rarely required anyone to enter a courtroom.

Lureen believed that the man was good at keeping secrets until she had walked into his office one afternoon and caught him humping a woman on his desk who was not his wife.  Tom had begged her not to tell anyone.  He swore he loved his wife, that he couldn’t bear it if she learned what he had done.  He also implored her to think of his children, what having their family torn apart would do to them.  And he had his professional reputation to consider as well: people liked to joke about how sleazy lawyers could be, but most people would not like to find out that their lawyer was an adulterer.  Both he and Lureen knew that L.D. Newsome was one of those people.

Lureen had little sympathy for cheaters.  She believed that Tom’s wife at least had a right to know so that she could decide for herself what to do about the situation.

“Who knows?” she had said.  “She may not throw you out, Tom.  She may not even tell anyone.”

But he assured Lureen that his wife would, indeed, want a divorce the moment she learned of his unfaithfulness.  So finally, Lureen agreed to keep his secret, but only after having Tom agree to do something for her in return.  At the time, she had been unsure of what she wanted from Tom—she was not in need of any favors at that time.  But when Jack was attacked, she knew exactly what she needed of Tom.

He had originally assured her that in the likely event of the police doing little to punish the people who had attacked Jack, he would find a way to make sure that they paid for what they had done.  He had told Lureen that there were ways of making it legally impossible for the police to ignore this case.  She trusted Tom; she knew how good he was at his job, and believed that he had every means to make sure these men paid.

However, now that it was clear that the police were doing little to punish Jack’s attackers, Lureen was not pleased to see that Tom was being just as unhelpful.

On Monday, she took her lunch an hour earlier than usual and drove five minutes to Tom’s law firm.  The secretary told him Tom was unoccupied and she could go right in.  This was what she usually said to any Newsome who wished to speak with Tom.

Lureen walked straight into his office without knocking.  Tom was seated at his desk, reading from a file folder.  “I see you’re alone today, Tom,” she said.

He did not appear to be surprised by her appearance.  “I sure am,” he said.  “Take a seat, tell me what I can do for you.”

She sat down across from him and fixed him with a glare.  “You can do what you told me you’d do nearly two months ago.  Joe Stevens and Frank Mills are free men and it ain’t right.”

“Well, Lureen, it’s like the police said: there isn’t enough evidence to prove those men had anything to do with Jack’s accident.”

“Fuck that!  How ’bout Jack saying, clear as day, that he knows it was them that did it to him.”

“Your husband suffered a head injury, Lureen.  What he says about what happened that night can’t be trusted, and his claim is the only evidence against Joe and Frank.”

“Tom, you know it was them.”

“I don’t know anything, Lureen.”

“You said you would help me!”

“Don’t know what you expect me to do.  It’s too bad, but I got other things to worry about.  Cases I actually get paid for.”

Lureen clenched her fists until she was sure her long nails would draw blood from the palms of her hands.  “Well, if that’s what you want to do, maybe I’ll take your wife out to lunch tomorrow.  Got a couple of things I’d like to tell her.”

Tom shrugged.  “It’s nothing she don’t already know.”

Lureen held her breath.  “What’re you talking about?”

“I took your advice and decided to be honest with her.  After seeing what you forgave your husband for, my heart was warmed, hoping my wife would be just as kind.  And she was.”

“Fuck you,” Lureen muttered.  She hated his cocky, mocking voice.  She hated Tom’s wife for being like her, and hated her for having a husband who actually loved her, despite his cheating.

“Lureen, I didn’t attack your husband, don’t be angry with me.  Truth is, I don’t have time to deal with this, and don’t think I could do anything about it if I tried.  It’s true: there just isn’t enough evidence to accuse those men of anything.”

“And what the hell am I supposed to do?  They’re walking free, probably proud of what they’ve done, and my husband is a mess.  It ain’t fucking right!”

Tom met her eyes.  “This is just a thought, but maybe what those guys did isn’t the only thing Jack is messed up over.  Maybe finding out his lover of twenty years is dead is what’s got him really fucked up.  And who did that to him?”

Lureen seized a pad of Post-It notes from Tom’s desk and threw it at him.  She stood up.  “How dare you!”

Tom, as exasperatingly calm as ever, removed the Post-It notes from his lap, where they had landed, and fixed his gaze on her again.  “Just telling the truth.”

“The truth, Tom?  Is the truth that I’m a monster because I’ve stopped him from seeing the man he’s been cheating on me with for our whole marriage?”

“Considering how long he’s known this Ennis fellow, maybe it isn’t you who’s being cheated on.  Maybe it’s him.”

Lureen, angrier than she had ever been in her life, slammed her purse down on Tom’s desk, knocking over a glass of water onto the file he had been looking at.  Tom swore and scooped up the papers.  He tried to dry the water with tissue, but it wasn’t doing much.  Lureen watched him.  “All you fucking cheaters, you all think you’re right.  You’re all fucking scum.”

Tom did not look up from what he was doing.  “The truth is, Lureen, I was sick of being your little lap dog.  I helped you set the ball rolling to destroy your husband’s life, I ain’t doing anything more for you.  Now get the fuck out of my office.”

Lureen complied only because she had nothing else to say to Tom and thought that if she spent another moment with him, she might kill him.  How dare he! she thought.  How dare he accuse me of hurting Jack.  How dare he say that it was Ennis who was being cheated on, that Jack was more his than he was hers!  Fucking scum.

Lureen fumed as she drove back to her office, thinking about how much she hated that fucking Ennis for doing this to them.  Jack was hers, damn it.

But even with Jack believing Ennis was dead, he was still leaving their bed in the middle of the night.  Even when Jack was sitting right next to her, Lureen knew he wasn’t really there.

She pulled into her parking spot, took her purse from the passenger seat, and locked the car door.  As she slammed it shut, she thought that maybe Ennis wasn’t the whole problem.  A damn big part of the problem, but no, maybe he wasn’t completely to blame.  But … maybe her idea to lie to Jack was not the best.  She didn’t stop hating him or being angry, but she knew that she had underestimated what Ennis was to Jack.  She had known her lie would hurt Jack, but she had not been expecting this level of grief she was witnessing him suffer.

Lureen didn’t talk to anyone as she moved down the hallway to her office.  She sat down behind her desk heavily.  She had always enjoyed a challenge.  Problems nearly always had solutions if you thought hard enough.  She had tried with all she had in her to solve this problem.  She had done everything she believed she could to save Jack and save their marriage.  But she couldn’t get the image of Jack’s eyes out of her mind: once so bright and expressive, now dim and empty.  She wanted to go to sleep.  She wanted to rewind, to have done something for Jack that did not break him.  She wanted everything she could not have.

*          *            *

Ennis knew he didn’t have much, but was a little surprised when all of his belongings fit into two small boxes.  He didn’t need to take any furniture with him, but he had little of that anyhow.  He threw a few things out: some food, a radio that had been broken for years, a terra cotta pot that had once held a plant but had long since been empty.  When he pulled the stack of postcards out of the drawer of his bedside table, he seriously considered throwing it out.  What would hanging on to these stupid postcards do anyways?  They barely even said anything; all of them were filled with messages like “I’ll be there,” and “See you on the fifteenth.  It’s going to be cold!” and “Looking forward to it. Been desperate to get out and so some fishing lately bud.”

But as his arm extended toward the black garbage bag, postcards clutched in hand, he couldn’t do it.  He needed these, stupid or not.  Jack was gone—he knew that—but he didn’t see any need to try to forget by throwing out that small piece of his friend he had always been able to keep with him.  When Jack was living and Ennis was missing him, he would sometimes pull out a postcard or two and be able to feel like Jack was there with him.  He didn’t see any reason why that should change now.  The postcards would go with him.  They would always stay with him.

Ennis had learned enough about grief in the past weeks to know that if he dwelt on these things too long, he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to do anything, so he shoved the postcards into one of the boxes and finished packing.  His most important cargo would be pulled along behind him in a trailer.

He left early in the morning and didn’t look back.  He’d said good-bye to his girls two days earlier, had them over for dinner.  It hadn’t been easy to part from them, but they’d both been supportive of his decision, saying how it was good he was getting a better job and a change of scenery.  His promise that he’d be back when the work was done was a comfort to all of them.

He drove for two days, stopping only a few times to eat, and once at the ranch of one of Levinson’s friends to sleep and let his horses graze.  He crossed a state line and, for the first time in his life, an international border.  He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but found he was surprised to see that Canada didn’t look all that different from his native country.  At least, not just north of the Montana-Alberta border.  He passed through a small town where he saw folks dressed more or less as they did back home, even saw a few men wearing hats like his own.  The mountains were nearby, visible to the west, and when he left the town, he drove past ranches that were indistinguishable from the ones he had been passing for the past two days.

The Renolds Ranch was modest and simple.  A gravel drive brought him up next to a two-story house with a porch in the front.  Ennis could tell that the house had been painted recently by the clean brightness of its white.  The porch sagged a little in the middle and a new-looking swing hung just right of the door.

Before getting out of his truck, Ennis looked out over the property.  Just in front of the truck, only a few feet away, was a small grain silo.  An also recently painted white barn stood a few yards to the northwest of the house.  The side door was open and a pile of loose hay sat against the wall.  Beside it was a tractor that Ennis figured was at least ten years old, judging by the model, dark blue and showing a few rust spots.  To the left of the barn was a fenced-in field where two brown Quarter Horses grazed.  In the distance were more pastures where cattle grazed and Ennis could make out the figure of a man, circling the perimeter of one of the pastures and another bent low by a fence, likely mending it.  Past the barn were two fields where something was growing, hay or grain, Ennis guessed, as was usually the case for ranch crops.  He could see another ranch far to the east, just barely visible along the flat land.  To the west, the planes carried on for miles until they met the magnificent mountains, green and gray and monstrous above the dusty land.

The spread seemed to be in good enough shape, but Ennis could see the evidence of its previously run-down state behind the newly glossed exterior.  The whole place had a kind of tiredness about it: he could see it in the dip in the front porch, the slight lean in the silo, and the missing shingles from the barn’s roof.  Even from this distance, Ennis could tell that the two grazing horses were not exactly in prime condition: they were on the skinny side and moved slowly.  Well, Ennis thought, I ain’t exactly got a jump in my step either these days.  I’m tired too.

But seeing the poor creatures reminded him of his own two studs, certain to be impatient to get out of the trailer.  Ennis roused himself and walked around to the back of the trailer.  He led Heathcliff and Hareton (names suggested by Junior, after characters in some book she’d read) out and towards the pasture.  Hareton was a Quarter Horse like the other two, but he stood out because of his light brown, nearly blond color and dark brown tail and mane.  He was an even-tempered, hard-working, and reliable stud, as most Quarters were.  Heathcliff was an Appaloosa, striking because of his white spray of spots on his reddish, light brown hide.  He was a sturdy riding horse, but tended to be a little wild and untrusting of anyone other than Ennis.

After observing that the four horses had no quarrel with one another, Ennis left his two to graze with their new companions.  Watching them for a moment, he saw that the two new horses were as he had observed from his truck: a little skinny, but not under-nourished; slow moving, but he could see that with some work, there was potential.  The dark brown one seemed more relaxed with Heathcliff and Hareton, but a weakness Ennis detected in his back right leg worried him.  The lighter brown one seemed a little nervous about the newcomers and steered clear of them, but it seemed to jolt some energy in him, and this was encouraging.

The sun was dimming as the blue sky began to clutter gradually with clouds.  The landscape darkened, turned gray, and Ennis suddenly felt his optimism about the horses dribble away as it was replaced with another, heavier feeling he couldn’t place.  He shifted his gaze from the horses to sweep the property again.  In the distant pastures, he saw that one man had gone to the one kneeling by the fence and bent down to him.  The one who had been standing pointed in Ennis’s general direction.  He saw them both straighten and, he thought, look at him.  From this distance, he could make out nothing of their features or the expressions on their faces.  They could be scowling or grinning, Ennis couldn’t tell the difference.  The thought of them standing there, so far away, staring at him deepened that heavy feeling he had, mixed something like fear with it.  Nerves, maybe.  He considered waving, but kept his arms at his side.  If they worked here, they’d meet him soon enough.  He had to go meet the boss man at the main house, as he’d been instructed to do.

A man who didn’t shy away from doing what needed to be done, no matter how little the idea appealed to him, Ennis walked toward the house, head bent and shoulders hunched, but determined.  The wooden steps protested under Ennis’s weight and the porch creaked as well.  Before he had a chance to ring the bell, he heard the rumbling growl, and then the bark, of a big dog.  Ennis didn’t own a watch, but he knew it was only about two hours past noon.  What was a dog doing indoors on a ranch in the middle of the afternoon?  He didn’t get a chance to consider this further, though, as the inner door opened and the noisy beast himself appeared before Ennis, visible through the mesh of the screen door.  He was a bloodhound, all big eyes and droopy jowls.  Ennis raised his eyes to whomever had opened the door, presumably the owner, a man who somewhat resembled the dog with his sleek dark hair, tired big eyes, and droopy jowls to boot.  The biggest difference, though, was in the grin the man wore, big and proud, as though he’d just been crowned King of the World.

“Don’t mind Maggie, she’s all bark and no bite,” he said, leaning over Maggie and pushing the screen door open.  “Come in, come in.”

Ennis took off his hat and entered, a little uncertain about crossing the threshold of a man’s home before he’d even said a word to him.

But the man in question seemed eager to change that as he thrust a hand toward Ennis.  “Cal Renolds.  And you must be Ennis Del Mar.”

Ennis took Renolds’s hand.  “I am, sir … but, uh, how’d you know?”

“I’ve been expecting you, Ennis!  I saw you pull up with your trailer and bring out your horses—”

“Hope that’s all right, sir, I just—”

“Of course it’s OK!  That’s what you’re here for, right?  For the horses?”

Ennis nodded.  “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t call me ‘sir.’  I’m Cal.”

“Oh.”

“Allrighty, come meet my wife, Brenda.  And I’ll call the guys in to meet you too.”

Ennis followed Cal through a living room with hardwood floors, white walls, and two green couches, into a large kitchen that smelled of fresh bread.  A slim woman with sandy blonde hair in a ponytail, wearing a white tank top and cut-off jean shorts, stood at the island cutting an onion.  She wiped tears out of her eyes and grinned at Ennis.

“Hi, Ennis.  I’m Brenda.”

Ennis nodded.  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

They waited as Cal used a walkie-talkie to call in the other two men who worked on the ranch.  Then, Ennis stood in the kitchen for what felt like a long time, but was really only ten minutes, making conversation.  For Ennis, making conversation was about as easy as making a mountain, so he was relieved when a newcomer came in through the back door that led into the kitchen.  Ennis was eager to meet them so he could guess what his days might be like on the Renolds Ranch.  He hoped they’d be the hard-working type who minded their own business and didn’t talk about things that didn’t have to do with the job.  He’d worked with some of those, and they had made his life easier.  But he’d worked with the other type too: the ones who worked because they wanted the money, but had nothing to give.  They did as little work as possible and the little work they did was half-assed.  They always had plenty to say, though.  They wanted to talk about who they’d fucked or who they’d punched the night before.  And Ennis could have tolerated that if they’d kept him out of it.  But there was no luck to be had there: they always wanted to hear Ennis’s story, wanted him to divulge the secrets of his life.  Is it true you and that sweet little thing who waitresses at the bar are an item, Ennis?  How is she in the sack?  Or: Saw the number you did on Allen Johnson’s face last night, Ennis.  Christ, what’d he say to you?  If these guys were going to be pains in the ass like that, Ennis didn’t know if he could stand six months here.

The man who walked in the door was older than Ennis, but younger than sixty.  He was bald on top, graying on the sides and had a full beard.  He nodded at Ennis and shook his hand.

Cal patted the man on the shoulder.  “This is Marc Lapont.  He’s my right-hand man, takes care of everything I can’t.  Where’s Shane?”

“Takin’ ’is time, as usual.”

Marc spoke with an accent Ennis had never heard before, but it sounded familiar.  He had to listen close to understand what he was saying, but he didn’t seem to say much.  Ennis liked him already.

“Shane’s only been around for about a year,” Cal was saying.  “He’s our only ranch hand.  He does a lot of the heavy lifting around here—you’ll be bunking with him.”  Cal paused, looked at Marc, then back at Ennis.  “As you can see, this place doesn’t exactly match up to Gary Levinson’s spread.  Money’s always been tight.  There aren’t many of us, so we all have to pull our weight.  Now, Gary tells me you’re a hard worker.”

“Yes, sir, I believe I am.”

“It’s Cal, Ennis.  Glad to hear it, though.  I guess he told you, I came into some money since my father died?  Well, I’m making some changes to improve things around here, but it won’t work if any member of my team isn’t giving 100 per cent.  Can you give me that, Ennis?

Ennis started to nod his head, but was interrupted by the door opening again.  The man who strolled in was tall and slim.  His shaggy brown hair fell across his forehead and he pushed it back as he walked in the door.  His face was stubbly and one look at his hands told Ennis he was a workingman, had been for a long time.  He looked to be in his mid-thirties.  As he stepped into the kitchen, he looked suddenly straight at Ennis, meeting his eyes.  The ones he stared back at were dark, but had a brightness deep within them, like a fire glowing in a dark room.  Ennis couldn’t identify the feeling he had then, but it seemed familiar.  Exhilarating at first, but then it made him queasy.  He shifted his eyes to the floor.

“I’m Shane,” the man said, sticking his hands in his front pockets.

Ennis nodded.  “Ennis.”

“Show Ennis where he’ll be sleeping, Shane.  Maggie and I will be over in a bit and we can get started, Ennis.”

Shane silently turned back to the door and Ennis followed him outside.  They walked toward the barn, but veered left and walked around it.  On the west side of the barn, which hadn’t been visible to Ennis from his truck, was a small, white, one-story house, slightly shorter than the barn.  Shane led him straight in through the front door.  From the inside, Ennis could see it could hardly be called a house.  The entire place was two rooms: the one large room they’d walked into with two single beds and a nightstand and dresser each, and a smaller room in the corner of the larger one.  Ennis could see through the open door it was the bathroom.  It was clean and simple, which suited Ennis fine.  He wished he didn’t have to share a room, but he wasn’t going to complain about free room and board.

Shane pointed to the bed on the right side of the room.  “That one’s yours.  I don’t like messes, so keep things clean.  We eat at the house.  Breakfast is at five, lunch at noon, dinner at six.  You miss a meal, you find your own food.”

Ennis nodded.  “Fair enough.”

“I usually keep a couple of cans of beans under my bed, just in case.  We can make a fire out back to heat them up.”

Ennis nodded again, but refrained from saying he wouldn’t be eating no beans with no other guy.  He could keep some soup or chili around though.  But he wasn’t planning on missing the regular meals, anyways.

Shane sat down on his bed and looked up at Ennis, those dark eyes catching him again.  “So, are you going to unpack?”

Ennis frowned.  “Don’t you have work to do?”

Shane shrugged.  “Sure, I’ll get to it.  I’m just taking a breather.”

Ennis grunted and was just going to go to his truck to get his few belongings, when Cal poked his head in the door, Maggie at his feet.  “You guys settled?”

“Yeah, boss,” Shane said.  He stood up and started toward the door, but then glanced back at Ennis.  “See you around.”

Ennis watched him, feeling suddenly angry, but he didn’t know why.  Cal stepped into the room and Maggie followed.  “I’ll let you unpack, then do you want to meet me by the barn in about twenty minutes?”  He patted Maggie’s head.  “Maggie and I have some work to do before the day is done.”

Ennis nodded.  “How ’bout ten minutes?”

Cal smiled.  “Sounds fine.  See you then.”

Ennis pulled his boxes out of his truck and didn’t spend long unpacking.  Clothing in the dresser, postcards in the nightstand drawer.  His tack was in the trailer, but he’d deal with that later.  He got to the barn before Cal, who came with Maggie in tow a few minutes later.  Ennis was beginning to wonder if he’d ever see that man without his dog.

The tour of the barn was quick—it was nothing Ennis hadn’t seen before.  Cal pointed out the main areas of the ranch, then led him to where the four horses were grazing.  He had just purchased the two Quarter Horses and wanted Ennis’s opinion on them.  Ennis said they weren’t in the best shape now, but that they had potential.  Cal explained that he wanted to buy two more horses and let Ennis know how much he wanted to spend.  He told Ennis about his plan for his little side-business, charging people by the hour to take the horses for guided tours around the property.  He wanted Ennis to get the horses ready for that.

Ennis wasn’t too daunted by the task: the horses didn’t have to be the fastest or nimblest in the world, but they needed to be even-tempered and obedient.  Tolerant, too, if they were going to be taking a lot of inexperienced riders.

After an hour, Cal patted Ennis on the shoulder and told him he had work to do.  He left Ennis to get to know his new charges.  Alone with four horses, Ennis felt, for the first time that day, the tight knot in his stomach begin to loosen.  The sun was beginning to peek through the clouds again and Ennis enjoyed its warmth on his face

It was early to tell, but Ennis thought that this whole Alberta thing might just work out fine.