“Shot a coyote just first light,” he told Jack the next evening, sloshing his facewith hot water, lathering up soap and hoping his razor had some cut left in it,while Jack peeled potatoes. 

     “Big son of a bitch. Balls on him size a apples. Ibet he’d took a few lambs. Looked like he could a eat a camel. You want somea this hot water? There’s plenty.” 

     “It’s all yours.” 

     “Well, I’m goin a wash everthing I can reach,” he said, pulling off his bootsand jeans (no drawers, no socks, Jack noticed), slopping the green washclotharound until the fire spat. 

     They had a high-time supper by the fire, a can of beans each, fried potatoesand a quart of whiskey on shares, sat with their backs against a log, bootsoles and copper jeans rivets hot, swapping the bottle while the lavender skyemptied of color and the chill air drained down, drinking, smoking cigarettes,getting up every now and then to piss, firelight throwing a sparkle in thearched stream, tossing sticks on the fire to keep the talk going, talking horsesand rodeo, roughstock events, wrecks and injuries sustained, the submarineThresher lost two months earlier with all hands and how it must have been inthe last doomed minutes, dogs each had owned and known, the draft, Jack’shome ranch where his father and mother held on, Ennis’s family place foldedyears ago after his folks died, the older brother in Signal and a married sisterin Casper. 

     Jack said his father had been a pretty well known bullrider yearsback but kept his secrets to himself, never gave Jack a word of advice, nevercame once to see Jack ride, though he had put him on the woolies when hewas a little kid. Ennis said the kind of riding that interested him lasted longerthan eight seconds and had some point to it. Money’s a good point, said Jack,and Ennis had to agree. They were respectful of each other’s opinions, eachglad to have a companion where none had been expected. Ennis, ridingagainst the wind back to the sheep in the treacherous, drunken light, thoughthe’d never had such a good time, felt he could paw the white out of the moon. 

     The summer went on and they moved the herd to new pasture, shifted thecamp; the distance between the sheep and the new camp was greater and thenight ride longer. Ennis rode easy, sleeping with his eyes open, but the hourshe was away from the sheep stretched out and out. Jack pulled a squallingburr out of the harmonica, flattened a little from a fall off the skittish bay mare,and Ennis had a good raspy voice; a few nights they mangled their waythrough some songs. Ennis knew the salty words to “Strawberry Roan.” Jacktried a Carl Perkins song, bawling “what I say-ay-ay,” but he favored a sadhymn, “Water-Walking Jesus,” learned from his mother who believed in thePentecost, that he sang at dirge slowness, setting off distant coyote yips. 

     “Too late to go out to them damn sheep,” said Ennis, dizzy drunk on all foursone cold hour when the moon had notched past two. The meadow stonesglowed white-green and a flinty wind worked over the meadow, scraped thefire low, then ruffled it into yellow silk sashes. 

     “Got you a extra blanket I’llroll up out here and grab forty winks, ride out at first light.” 

     “Freeze your ass off when that fire dies down. Better off sleepin in the tent.” 

     “Doubt I’ll feel nothin.” But he staggered under canvas, pulled his boots off,snored on the ground cloth for a while, woke Jack with the clacking of hisjaw. 

     “Jesus Christ, quit hammerin and get over here. Bedroll’s big enough,” saidJack in an irritable sleep-clogged voice. It was big enough, warm enough, andin a little while they deepened their intimacy considerably. Ennis ran full throttleon all roads whether fence mending or money spending, and hewanted none of it when Jack seized his left hand and brought it to his erectcock. Ennis jerked his hand away as though he’d touched fire, got to hisknees, unbuckled his belt, shoved his pants down, hauled Jack onto all foursand, with the help of the clear slick and a little spit, entered him, nothing he’ddone before but no instruction manual needed. They went at it in silenceexcept for a few sharp intakes of breath and Jack’s choked “gun’s goin off,”then out, down, and asleep.Ennis woke in red dawn with his pants around his knees, a top-gradeheadache, and Jack butted against him;