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Cheap newport cigarettes online free shipping, nobody to turn him over. Under the wind drone he heard steel
slamming off bone, the hollow chatter of a settling tire rim.

"He buried down there?" He wanted to curse her for letting Jack die on the dirt
road.

The little Texas voice came slip-sliding down the wire. "We put a stone up. He
use to say he wanted to be cremated, ashes scattered on Brokeback Mountain.
I didn't know where that was. So he was cremated newport cigarettes for usa, like he wanted, and like I
say, half his ashes was interred here, and the rest I sent up to his folks. I
thought Brokeback Mountain was around where he grew up. But knowing Jack,
it might be some pretend place where the bluebirds sing and there's a whiskey
spring."

"We herded sheep on Brokeback one summer," said Ennis. He could hardly
speak.

"Well, he said it was his place. I thought he meant to get drunk. Drink whiskey
up there. He drank a lot."

"His folks still up in Lightnin Flat?"

"Oh yeah. They'll be there until they die. I never met them. They didn't come
down for the funeral. You get in touch with them. I suppose they'd appreciate it
if his wishes was carried out."

No doubt about it, she was polite but the little voice was cold as snow.


The road to Lightning Flat went through desolate country past a dozen
abandoned ranches distributed over the plain at eight- and ten-mile intervals,
houses sitting blank-eyed in the weeds, corral fences down. The mailbox read
John C. Twist. The ranch was a meagre little place, leafy spurge taking over. The
stock was too far distant for him to see their condition, only that they were
black baldies. A porch stretched across the front of the tiny brown stucco house,
four rooms, two down newport 100 carton, two up.

Ennis sat at the kitchen table with Jack's father. Jack's mother, stout and careful
in her movements as though recovering from an operation, said, "Want some
coffee, don't you? Piece a cherry cake?"


"Thank you usa made cigarettes, ma'am, I'll take a cup a coffee but I can't eat no cake just now."

The old man sat silent, his hands folded on the plastic tablecloth, staring at
Ennis with an angry, knowing expression. Ennis recognized in him a not
uncommon type with the hard need to be the stud duck in the pond. He couldn't
see much of Jack in either one of them, took a breath.

"I feel awful bad about Jack. Can't begin to say how bad I feel. I knew him a
long time. I come by to tell you that if you want me to take his ashes up there
on Brokeback like his wife says he wanted I'd be proud to."

There was a silence. Ennis cleared his throat but said nothing more.

The old man said cheap newports cigarettes carton, "Tell you what, I know where Brokeback Mountain is. He
thought he was too goddamn special to be buried in the family plot."

Jack's mother ignored this, said, "He used a come home every year, even after
he was married and down in Texas, and help his daddy on the ranch for a week
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