It kept warm enough through the night, and they messed around like usual. Jack spread himself wide with hands and a smile, and Ennis thrust into him like a racehorse, panting with the exertion. They made a sweaty pile under the blankets after. No care for the dampness. So when the morning wind cracked through the sparse trees and came at them through the tent walls, they nearly bruised each other, shivering and chattering away so close.

So when Ennis del Mar finally set himself to making a life with Jack Twist--when Jack showed him what was worth fighting for--there wasn't a power on Heaven or Earth that could keep Ennis from him.

"Got some ideas bout that," Ennis said, thinking of the bills in his shirt pocket, now on the ratty carpet beside the door.

Jack went very still, though beneath his arm, Ennis could feel Jack's heart racing. "That so?"

Jack's sight is full of the things he carries away from the campfire each season, and words don't make that picture whole. Ennis taught him that, many summers ago.

"I'm just tryin a remember the last time I gone three times in a day," Ennis said with a quiet chuckle as he stretched his feet toward the fire, arms folded behind his head.

The trouble with Ennis and his all-or-nothing way was there was a decision and an action, and little space to wrangle over maybes.