June 3, 1964

Lifting the last of the fifty pound bags of feed unto the truck bed, the young cowboy stretched his back, and twisted from side to side. The clerk came out to verify the count, and to get the ranch hand's signature on the bill of lading. He waved and called in a rumbly voice. "See y'next time."

Raising his right foot into the driver's side of the truck, the tall blond man swung into the seat, pulling the door closed with his left hand. With his right hand reaching for the ignition, he looked up through the windshield and dropped the keys on the floor.

Confusion clouded the chocolate eyes. He shook his head to clear his vision. But when he looked back again, he was still there, staring right into his eyes.

Opening that truck door was no decision. In his haste, he nearly fell out of the cab, but landed on feet that were already in motion. "Jack?"

Two bodies collided in the middle of a weekday street, with little or no traffic to impede them.

"Sonuvabitch! It's really you. Oh Ennis!"

They were tightly clinched together, both talking at once.

"Thought it was you . . ."

"What're you doin here?"

"Sight for sore eyes."

"Need you to know . ."

"Are you married yet?"

"No, I couldn't do it."

"Can we go somewhere?"

"Oh God, follow me. ."