Before he could rouse himself enough to let go of his wife’s hands after their talk, Mr. Twist heard Jack calling from upstairs, informing them that Ennis had chosen the room across the hall from Jack’s. Ennis protested, but Jack’s parents insisted, and the boys instead made up the room next to Jack’s, the one with the larger bed.
Clambering down the stairs to announce their impending presence, Jack and Ennis entered the kitchen somewhat more subdued than when they went up, but not disheveled. Puzzled somewhat at their quiet demeanor, John just shrugged and moved onto the next task at hand. Standing up, he ran a hand through his hard and faced the two new arrivals.
“Well, hung around the house long enough, snow’s let up, hafta check the stock, see how they weathered the storm, make sure they’ve ‘nough feed. Jack and me’ll take care a that, Ennis, yer a visitor, ya can stay inside, mebbe call yer family and let ‘em know yer okay, say Merry Christmas and all that. And don’t worry about the phone bill, guess it’ll be our present to ya.”
“Thank ya anyway, sir, but I don’t got any family to call.” Jack’s all the family I got or need.
“What about yer pa and yer ma?” Mr. Twist asked impatiently.
Ennis replied quietly, looking down. “They died in a accident when I was 14, ran off the road on the way to our ranch. Lost the ranch, been workin’ ever since. M’ brother kicked me out this Spring when he got married. M’ sister’s married, lives somewhere in Laramie, ain’t heard from her in coupla years.”
“Shit, that’s hard, boy.”
“John, not in the house,” said Mrs. Twist firmly, and then continued, “I’m very sorry ta hear about yer folks, Ennis.”
“’s alright, ma’am. Been a long time now, over six years.” Raising his head to look at Mr. Twist, Ennis continued. “Sir, me ‘n Jack’ll take care of the chores fer ya, only way I can think a thankin’ ya ‘n Mrs. Twist fer lettin’ me stay over Christmas. Don’t have a right present fer ya, but I got two hands that know how ta work hard, so hope ya’ll let me do this fer ya instead.”
Jack held his breath, secretly admiring Ennis. No one but John Twist knew anything about how to run the Twist spread, no one, not Jack, not his wife, not his older brother no longer there, no one, just ask him, he’d told that in no uncertain terms to anyone who ever dared suggest otherwise for the past thirty years. Run through enough hired hands to confirm that throughout the entire county.
John looked sharply at Ennis, and then at his son. He frowned, and started forming words of protest, something about Ennis’ bein’ an upstart and new to these parts, when Jack surprised all three of them by jumping in and insisting that the two of them could do it alone and for once he should let Jack handle it, after all they took care of more than a thousand sheep all summer together by themselves. His talking drifted to a stop when he got a good look at his father’s face, the little veins on his forehead starting to bulge.
Still frowning, but remembering, Mr. Twist surprised himself by accepting Ennis’ present. “Well, if ya feel that way about it, think I’ll take ya up on that, Ennis. But mind ya, ya’ll hafta run herd on this one over here that calls ya his ‘partner’, don’t know much about runnin’ this place yet no matter how much I’ve tried to show ‘im, and tends to daydream and let things slide. So keep an eye on ‘em. And I’ll be watchin’ ya and checkin’ yer work, be sure of that, so best do it right and no lollygaggin’, ya hear.”
Jack eyed his father suspiciously, wondering what his old man was up to. With a "yessir" Ennis just turned and walked towards the door, wanting to get away, all the talking exhausting him, calling over his shoulder as he went. “Ya comin’, Jack? Ain’t got time ta waste, them clouds outside look like they might have some more snow in ‘em, ‘n I fer one don’t wanta get caught in no blizzard. Done that already once this year, back on the Mountain.”
With a last puzzled look at his dad, Jack turned and hurried after Ennis. The last Mr. and Mrs. Twist heard was the banging of the closing outside door, and the muffled sound of boots crunching snow on the outside stairs.