Wrong Side of the Briar Patch 5/27
Title: Wrong Side of the Briar Patch
Author: NDF/TS Blue
Fandom: Dukes
Rating: PG, maybe. It's not quite all sunshine and roses, anyway.
Summary: It's a summer of freedom and hardship, of love and calamities. Daisy and Bo have just graduated into adulthood and Luke is back from war. It ought to be the best time of their lives, but one disaster follows another. Who would want the Dukes hurt? Prequel, gen.
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Five: Hot as Blazes
July 4, 1974
It was hot, the kind of hot that wilted most everything on which the sun shone. The kind of hot that she could blame things on - had been blaming things on.
Like the way she could feel her hair curling up around her ears, probably frizzing out in odd clumps everywhere else. Because the day before yesterday, she'd walked into Miss Teddy's Beauty Salon and gotten almost all of it cut off.
It was hot, that was what she told herself. That it would be nice, for a change, to have a cool breeze on her neck when it came time to water the fields or harvest the corn. It had nothing, she swore to herself, to do with wanting to look older. With maybe trying to impress one Enos Strate and show him that she really had grown up.
Because here she was, wandering along the long slope in Hazzard Park on July Fourth. Stepping between checked and striped picnic blankets, looking down into the field below where burlap-sack race was vying with the wheelbarrow race for which was the most ridiculous. Wearing the shortest and tightest sundress she owned, and trying her hardest not to look pathetic or lost. Not to look alone, which she most definitely was, when everyone else in the whole town was here and they were all paired off. Heck, even Bo and Luke were together in their own way. Down there in the thick of the wheelbarrow race, Bo's long arms churning as fast as they could while Luke held onto his knobby knees and tried not to push him too fast. Showing off for all the girls, but they were going to lose to a pair of kids that weren't even old enough to have discovered girls yet.
Her hair must look a fright. About chin length now, when it had been halfway down her back, but it was time, right? She was trying to get a job, and she needed to present herself as something more than a schoolgirl. She knew what people thought of girls like her, who lived far from town. That they were backward, wild, from the wrong side of the briar patch. She never minded the assumptions, and never felt bad about proving them wrong. But first impressions could mean the difference between being sent away and being given a chance - at a job and, even if she'd refused to admit she was thinking it at the time, with Enos. So she'd gone to see Miss Teddy and said she was looking for something sleek for summer. Looked at a few photos and picked one out that looked sophisticated and maybe just a touch sexy and said that was what she wanted. What she ended up with looked more like a boyish crop. But it wasn't Miss Teddy's fault that Daisy had forgotten how much her hair curled and frizzed when it was short.
Yesterday morning, the boys had come home from spending the night in jail and they really should have been quiet. Serious and maybe a little humbled and ashamed of themselves, but they'd been raucous as ever. Racing into the kitchen to see what they could find to eat and Luke's eyes, blue as they were, had just about bugged out of his head when he saw her.
"You sure do look different," he said, without a lick of tact or thoughtfulness.
"Yeah, you look just like Luke!" Bo said and giggled like only he would.
Jesse followed them in and told them to get to their room and get changed, and when they'd caught up on all the chores they'd missed, they could come around looking for food, not before. Big feet on old floorboards, but once once their door closed behind all their noise, Jesse told her not to mind them, that they were fools. Then he repeated what he'd said to her the night before: "You're the spitting image of your mother when she first came here."
But she didn't look like some stunning, southern belle just moved here from Chatsworth to steal a young man's heart, and she didn't look like her heavy-featured older cousin with his bright blue eyes, either. What she looked like was the same as she ever had - a pre-teen with a straight-up-and-down, skinny body, skin that freckled in the sun, and a too-wide mouth. Or she looked like a boy, but most boys these days had more hair than she did.
And now she was walking around the edge of Hazzard's most fantastic party, not part of the games or part of the necking couples or part of anything at all. Looking for Enos Strate and not at all sure she wanted to find him.
Seemed to her they'd had a date already. A little rendezvous at the very least and while she knew she didn't have a right to make exclusive claims on him yet, it would seem like he should have called her by now. Should have asked if she was planning to attend this little event (as if there was a soul in Hazzard that wasn't planning to) and whether she was accompanied. But it had been days. Almost a week, and she would have figured he ought to have done something by now. Still, not a peep all week and he was nowhere to be found now. She kicked a pebble and moved on. Scanning the slope she and her cousins had played on as kids, looking at picnic blankets full of buxom girls courting rough-edged boys, young families and everything she figured she ever wanted, right in front of her and she couldn't have it.
She was a fool.
"Look out, Joey!" she heard just before she felt a heavy thump against her leg. Looked down to see a lump of a little boy at her feet, looking at where he'd just bumped into her, then tilting his head to look up at her face. Screwing up his mouth and getting ready to cry.
"You're such a dummy, Joey," came from closer than the warning had, but it was the same voice. A girl in pigtails and a flowered dress, maybe eight to Joey's four.
And then Joey was crying in earnest as the girl, who might or might not have been his sister, tried to haul him up by the arm.
"I told you to look out," she scolded. "Come on, Joey!"
Which only made Joey grab onto Daisy's ankle, like it was an anchor against his sister's tide.
For heaven's sake. Daisy had come out here looking for companionship, but Joey was a little younger than what she'd had in mind.
"Hi, Joey," she said. "My name's Daisy." Which didn't have much of an impact on Joey, but now the little girl, whose dress was probably a hand-me-down based on how poorly it fit her, was staring at Daisy. Sizing her up.
"Me and Joey have to go now," the girl insisted, but Joey didn't seem exactly inclined to agree with her. He was still sitting firmly on the ground, one hand on Daisy's ankle. "My auntie said not to wander off too far."
"How about I help you and Joey find your auntie?" Daisy offered. It wasn't, after all, like she had anything better to do. Joey seemed amenable and let her hold his hand and walk with him, while the girl, whose name turned out to be Irma, pointed this way and that to lead them back to where she remembered her family being. Before long, Joey let go of her hand to run toward a woman that wasn't a whole lot older than Daisy. Irma took her sweet time, and by the time she and Daisy got there, Joey had already loudly explained that he'd been lost and that the "nice lady" had found him.
Which got Irma scolded soundly and maybe that was why the girl moved so slow. (And maybe that was why Luke had dragged Daisy and Bo around as impatiently as he did when they were kids. If anything went wrong, he was the one to get yelled at for being the oldest and theoretically most responsible.)
"Irma was with him all along," she said. "She was doing a fine job of watching him."
Which made the scolding come to a self-conscious stop, and that probably didn't help anything, if the way the woman was looking at Irma was any indication. It'd all just start up again once the little family was alone.
"Where are my manners," the half-harassed woman said, pushing sweaty strands of light-colored hair back from her face. "My name's Velma." Which was one of those impossibly old names that was appropriate for someone's grandmother, but this woman was young. She couldn't be more than five years older than Daisy was. At least as far as she could tell, when Velma's eyes were obscured by sunglasses. But her body was slender and fit nicely into her jeans, and what Daisy could see of her face was unlined. "And Joey here is mine. Irma is my cousin's kid."
"Well, she did a good job of looking out for him," Daisy asserted, and just look at that, how Irma glowed under the praise. "You new to town?" she asked, because pretty much everyone else at this event had been coming since before Daisy could remember, but she'd never seen these three before.
Joey started pulling on Velma's jeans, asking to be picked up. "Um, yeah," Velma answered, bending and hefting the boy, who wasn't exactly small. But he wrapped his arms around her neck and held on as she shifted him into the crook of her right arm. "I'm not really living here, but my cousins are, at least for a bit. They're the ones that dragged me here, and then left me to look after the food and the kids while they're off down there," she said, pointing to where the races were just finishing up. "Playing games." A slight gust blew her hair into her face again and she used her free hand to hold it back. "Them two with the dark hair, tying their legs together for the three-legged race." They were of similar height to each other, at least. They might stand a chance, unlike Bo and Luke who never could coordinate their two different-sized frames.
"I reckon I understand that," Daisy started, pointing loosely at where Bo had collapsed on the ground somewhere short of the finish line. Luke was standing over him, probably complaining that they'd lost to a couple of kids. Before she could get to properly pointing her cousins out, though, a voice from the side called her name.
"Daisy? Daisy Duke, is that you?"
"Enos!" came out for too excited, before she could remind herself that she was a mature woman now who didn't squeal in glee at seeing a man she was maybe courting (but wasn't really sure). "I want you to meet somebody! Enos, this is Velma, Velma, this is Enos."
It was hard to tell, what with the sunglasses and all, but Daisy didn't think Velma even spared a glance at Enos.
"Your name is Daisy?" she asked and it was hard to imagine that Daisy had forgotten to introduce herself sooner.
"Yes, I'm sorry, Daisy Duke," she said, offering her hand. Which was silly when Velma's arms were full of Joey.
"Nice to have met you," Velma answered, "and I'm sorry to run, but I need to go meet up with my cousins."
It probably wasn't the most polite thought she'd ever had, but Daisy couldn't say she as sorry to see Velma go, carrying Joey and with Irma following at a distance behind.
"It's nice to see you here, Daisy," Enos bubbled at her. Smiling so hard that he had to be pulling muscles. "You sure do look pretty today," he added and left it at that. Nothing about her looking like Luke or a boy or her long-gone mother. No specific mention of her hair at all and she figured that was fine, as long as he thought she was pretty.
"I was starting to think you wouldn't come," she said, playfully slapping his arm. Then mentally chastising herself, because it was such a silly, girlish thing to do. Something she would have done to a high school boy, but Enos wasn't that.
"Me? I wouldn't miss the Fourth of July for anything," he said. "Though I did miss the parade, but that was only because I was studying!" Enos was a man, with goals and plans. "But I'm here in time for the fireworks."
With a few hours to spare. "It won't be dark for a while, now," she reminded him.
"Oh, that's okay. I already studied up for the rest of the day with the books I've got. Can't go to the library today; it's a holiday."
So it was, and now that she'd found Enos (or he'd found her) and he wasn't excusing himself to go find someone more buxom or mature to hang out with, she was at a loss for what to do. Up until now her plans for the day had included wandering around until she located him.
"You thirsty, Daisy?" Enos asked. "I ain't got much money so I can't buy you nothing fancy, but I reckon I could afford a drink of coke or something."
She laughed, shook her head. Felt the way her hair bounced rather than swayed and hated the feel. Then put the thought out of her mind, because Enos was here with her, offering to buy her something to drink. That had to make this a date, didn't it?
"The 4-H club is giving out water," she told him. "That's all I need." Besides, his money would be better spent on one of the carnival rides down on the level ground of the field. Maybe the Ferris wheel, where she could pretend to be scared of heights and throw her arms around him for protection.
But for now it was enough to walk next to him in the low angled sun, pausing to say howdy to neighbors and friends. To take a moment to point over towards the races - an egg race this time, and the way that Bo was sprinting past another guy - might have been one of Velam's cousins - who ran with a funny but quick pigeon-toed gait. To accidentally (mostly, anyway) brush her arm against Enos' as she let it fall back to her side. To imagine what it would be like when he took her hand in his sometime, maybe tonight. Since, as far as she could tell, this was their first real date and all.
"All right, you Dukes."
Sweat dripped out of the ends of Bo's hair, tracing down his spine. More of it was caught in his eyebrows, just waiting to make its way into his eyes. He swiped across his face with the tee shirt he held in his hands.
It was hot as blazes, and Luke was getting ready to run the obstacle course. Which meant that he was cultivating calm, acting like he didn't have a care in the world. Laying back on the grass with his arms behind his head and staring at the sky while he waited for his name to be called. Meanwhile Dobro Doolin was stretching and pacing and stretching some more. Acting like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers, because he would be racing against Luke.
One of the great secrets about his cousin was that Luke was nervous, too. Or excited or - something, he just wasn't as calm as he looked. There were things going on in that deep-thinking brain of his before any kind of competition, concerns that always made him touchy as hell. Used to be, back when he was in school, he couldn't be spoken to for hours before a big football game. He'd as soon snap your head off as answer you politely.
Which meant that it probably served everyone best if Bo was the one that handled Rocso.
"Well, hey, sheriff!" he greeted, smiling like a kid being offered a cookie. "You get to missing us already?"
"No, I don't miss you," was good news, even if Bo figured that maybe his feelings ought to be hurt. Seemed to him they were fine guests at the jail the night before last. They went out of their way to keep Rosco busy, anyway. "And that's why I don't want you loitering around here, causing no trouble."
"Ain't loitering," Luke informed him from where he was lying in the grass, looking every bit like a loiterer. "I'm running a race." Which was convincing.
"Rosco," Bo jumped in, because it would be fun to watch the man's face as he stumbled over figuring out how Luke could be running a race while flat on his back, but there was principle at stake here. "It's the annual July Fourth fair. Everybody's here. How can we be loitering when we're here celebrating with all of Hazzard?"
"Ijit!"
Luke raised an eyebrow at him in admiration. An unspoken contest had broken out between them the other night to see who could annoy Rosco more. Seemed like, almost 48 hours later, Bo had won.
"Put on your shirt," Rosco commanded. "And you," he said to Luke, "get up on your feet. Run your race and see to it that you stay out of my hair. I got my eye on you two, and if you give me any trouble at all, I'm gonna cuff you and stuff you and put you under the jail."
Well. That seemed a bit excessive.
"What's gotten into you?" Bo asked him, because all teasing aside, Rosco wasn't normally that short of temper. Maybe the heat was getting to him; there were surly beads of sweat just waiting to drip off his chin and down onto the blue fabric of his shirt which was, as always buttoned right up to the top.
"You always threaten your constituents like that?" Luke asked from the ground, not moving a muscle other than his mouth.
"What's gotten into me?" Rosco's voice was muffled as Bo pulled his shirt over his head. It only made good sense to put it back on, anyway, what with all the mosquitoes around. "I'll tell you what's gotten into me." His hand came up, finger pointing at Bo. Good thing it wasn't his gun or he might be shooting holes into painful places. "You just - you," pointing down at Luke now, who regarded him with a calmly tilted head. Go on, the twisted smirk on his lips invited. Tell me what I am. "You Dukes have been more than enough trouble to me lately. And I ain't got the time for it. So you just-you stay out of my way, or you'll be regretting it."
And Rosco stalked off muttering things that sounded half like curses and half like baby talk.
"What's with him?" Bo asked.
"You got me," Luke answered, and went back to staring at the sky.
July 5, 1974
It was hot. And dark, pitch black, and they were moving fast. Not carrying moonshine, unless it was back there in the secret storage compartments and he just didn't know about it. But no. They didn't have anything illegal anywhere on them or in the car, but still they were being chased. Lights flashing everywhere all around them and all they could do was run like a rabbit with a bobcat on its tail.
"Why's he after us?" Luke asked. "What does he want?" No answer, so he looked to his right - his right, which meant he was driving and Bo was riding shotgun, how strange - to see his cousin offer up a shrug and nothing more. Also strange, because Bo hadn't been quiet a single day in his life since he was a squalling baby.
It was hot, no air coming through the open windows, no matter how fast he drove. The lights were getting closer and the smell of tires burning on asphalt-
"Bo."
-it was in his mind to ask his cousin what the plan was, what he should be doing. Which didn't make sense, none of it made sense. A pop and a bang; a game of bumper tag and Luke might not have been Bo, but he wasn't a slouch. There hadn't been a day in his life when Rosco Coltrane could match him behind the wheel, much less get close enough to his bumper to ram it. Another crack that he heard but didn't feel, dogs barking somewhere and it was-
Waking up. In his bed and turning over because he was so dang hot, trying to get the sheets to stop sticking to him, and the lights from his dream were still there. Flickering like a cop in pursuit and-
"Fire! Bo, Jesse, wake up, fire!"
He didn't know where and he didn't know what, at least not until he was on his feet. Still half asleep and running for the kitchen door when he heard Maudine whinny. Barn.
"Boots!" Jesse was shouting from behind him, because he'd almost gone out the door in his bare feet. He stopped long enough to get one on, still kicking the second one onto his heel and he was halfway across the farmyard toward the roar of flames.
Turned back with a thought of going for the garden hose, but, "Me and Daisy got the hose," Jesse hollered. "Get to the livestock."
Then Bo was at his side with the kitchen fire extinguisher - good idea. The fire wasn't big, he didn't think, couldn't see it all, but what he could see looked manageable if they could get in there and get at it. Lots of hay and dry wood crackling at the mercy of the flames-
He was coughing before he even made it inside, tying to keep low. Through the door, brightness of flame but it hadn't reached this end yet. Opening the first gate and swatting at the goats so they'd run, listening to the snap and pop of flames, choking on the smell. Looking to see - maybe it wasn't so bad. Flames retreating from the spray of the extinguisher, and he moved on to the next corral. Hot wood, hot air, hot latch burning his fingers as he lifted it. Maudine, usually so stubborn, was perfectly willing to run the second her door was opened.
"Aim it there, aim it there!" he heard Daisy's shrill yell over the rest of it - the crackle and pop, the goats' complaints, his own coughing. Telling Jesse where to spray, and that was good. Meant they were both still outside.
"Get the chickens!" he hollered to Bo, breathed, coughed. Pointing over to the corner, his shadow looming in the eerie orange of the fire's glow. Went after the dog pen himself, opening the door and pointing out of the barn. The hounds knew enough to follow his silent command.
Tried to think. What did they need, what could he save? Coughing again, stooping low, wondering if it really mattered when the smoke was crawling along the underside of the loft.
Bo was tossing chickens out of the open coop one after another, but they were just clucking around at his feet, making a nuisance of themselves. They never had much taken direction and they'd always seemed to annoy Bo most of all. Luke took to chasing them toward the open door, choking out, "Rabbits!" Kept right on chasing chickens until cool air washed over where he'd swear his skin had been on fire, until it was dark and he could mostly breathe and they were outside. Getting sprayed by the hose which may have been accidental or on purpose. Maybe he really had been on fire.
Then Bo was there at his side, dropping the rabbit cage on the grass and falling to his knees.
Logical, logical, what did they need, what could they not replace? Livestock: safe, tractor: in the other barn. What else, what else?
The loft.
He pulled off the tee-shirt he'd worn to bed, put it over his mouth. Wet - good, that should help. Looked over at Bo to see soot on his face, white of his eyes peering up at him. Gasping and coughing and trying to breathe.
"Stay here!" he yelled or tried. It was a croak, half caught up in the shirt that was still in front of his face. Put up a hand like Rosco Coltrane at a traffic stop, figured his point got across. Bo could read his mind half the time anyway. Ran back into the barn.
"Luke, ya dang fool," carried over the pop and sizzle of flame. Jesse calling him back, but the old man would be the one most heartbroken if Luke didn't make it to the loft. To the chest that had been up there for years now, full of the kinds of treasures that only meant anything to one small family in one small corner of one lost county in north Georgia. So he ignored the call and went forward, toward the ladder. The fire was bigger now, or he had underestimated it before. Hot, hot, hot and he was coughing again. Smoke rising and the loft was up, but he had to go there. Had to try. Got his foot on the first rung, ready to climb.
Crack! Something fell, a beam or just a board or maybe the wall between the stalls. Sparks everywhere, even where there hadn't been fire before. Flaming tufts of hay falling around him and he had to get out, had to run.
"Bo!" Daisy's scream from somewhere, and then crack! again and there was heat all around him, singing the hair on his arms, taste of fire in his mouth and all the way down into his throat and his vision washed over black.
Crack!
Author: NDF/TS Blue
Fandom: Dukes
Rating: PG, maybe. It's not quite all sunshine and roses, anyway.
Summary: It's a summer of freedom and hardship, of love and calamities. Daisy and Bo have just graduated into adulthood and Luke is back from war. It ought to be the best time of their lives, but one disaster follows another. Who would want the Dukes hurt? Prequel, gen.
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Five: Hot as Blazes
July 4, 1974
It was hot, the kind of hot that wilted most everything on which the sun shone. The kind of hot that she could blame things on - had been blaming things on.
Like the way she could feel her hair curling up around her ears, probably frizzing out in odd clumps everywhere else. Because the day before yesterday, she'd walked into Miss Teddy's Beauty Salon and gotten almost all of it cut off.
It was hot, that was what she told herself. That it would be nice, for a change, to have a cool breeze on her neck when it came time to water the fields or harvest the corn. It had nothing, she swore to herself, to do with wanting to look older. With maybe trying to impress one Enos Strate and show him that she really had grown up.
Because here she was, wandering along the long slope in Hazzard Park on July Fourth. Stepping between checked and striped picnic blankets, looking down into the field below where burlap-sack race was vying with the wheelbarrow race for which was the most ridiculous. Wearing the shortest and tightest sundress she owned, and trying her hardest not to look pathetic or lost. Not to look alone, which she most definitely was, when everyone else in the whole town was here and they were all paired off. Heck, even Bo and Luke were together in their own way. Down there in the thick of the wheelbarrow race, Bo's long arms churning as fast as they could while Luke held onto his knobby knees and tried not to push him too fast. Showing off for all the girls, but they were going to lose to a pair of kids that weren't even old enough to have discovered girls yet.
Her hair must look a fright. About chin length now, when it had been halfway down her back, but it was time, right? She was trying to get a job, and she needed to present herself as something more than a schoolgirl. She knew what people thought of girls like her, who lived far from town. That they were backward, wild, from the wrong side of the briar patch. She never minded the assumptions, and never felt bad about proving them wrong. But first impressions could mean the difference between being sent away and being given a chance - at a job and, even if she'd refused to admit she was thinking it at the time, with Enos. So she'd gone to see Miss Teddy and said she was looking for something sleek for summer. Looked at a few photos and picked one out that looked sophisticated and maybe just a touch sexy and said that was what she wanted. What she ended up with looked more like a boyish crop. But it wasn't Miss Teddy's fault that Daisy had forgotten how much her hair curled and frizzed when it was short.
Yesterday morning, the boys had come home from spending the night in jail and they really should have been quiet. Serious and maybe a little humbled and ashamed of themselves, but they'd been raucous as ever. Racing into the kitchen to see what they could find to eat and Luke's eyes, blue as they were, had just about bugged out of his head when he saw her.
"You sure do look different," he said, without a lick of tact or thoughtfulness.
"Yeah, you look just like Luke!" Bo said and giggled like only he would.
Jesse followed them in and told them to get to their room and get changed, and when they'd caught up on all the chores they'd missed, they could come around looking for food, not before. Big feet on old floorboards, but once once their door closed behind all their noise, Jesse told her not to mind them, that they were fools. Then he repeated what he'd said to her the night before: "You're the spitting image of your mother when she first came here."
But she didn't look like some stunning, southern belle just moved here from Chatsworth to steal a young man's heart, and she didn't look like her heavy-featured older cousin with his bright blue eyes, either. What she looked like was the same as she ever had - a pre-teen with a straight-up-and-down, skinny body, skin that freckled in the sun, and a too-wide mouth. Or she looked like a boy, but most boys these days had more hair than she did.
And now she was walking around the edge of Hazzard's most fantastic party, not part of the games or part of the necking couples or part of anything at all. Looking for Enos Strate and not at all sure she wanted to find him.
Seemed to her they'd had a date already. A little rendezvous at the very least and while she knew she didn't have a right to make exclusive claims on him yet, it would seem like he should have called her by now. Should have asked if she was planning to attend this little event (as if there was a soul in Hazzard that wasn't planning to) and whether she was accompanied. But it had been days. Almost a week, and she would have figured he ought to have done something by now. Still, not a peep all week and he was nowhere to be found now. She kicked a pebble and moved on. Scanning the slope she and her cousins had played on as kids, looking at picnic blankets full of buxom girls courting rough-edged boys, young families and everything she figured she ever wanted, right in front of her and she couldn't have it.
She was a fool.
"Look out, Joey!" she heard just before she felt a heavy thump against her leg. Looked down to see a lump of a little boy at her feet, looking at where he'd just bumped into her, then tilting his head to look up at her face. Screwing up his mouth and getting ready to cry.
"You're such a dummy, Joey," came from closer than the warning had, but it was the same voice. A girl in pigtails and a flowered dress, maybe eight to Joey's four.
And then Joey was crying in earnest as the girl, who might or might not have been his sister, tried to haul him up by the arm.
"I told you to look out," she scolded. "Come on, Joey!"
Which only made Joey grab onto Daisy's ankle, like it was an anchor against his sister's tide.
For heaven's sake. Daisy had come out here looking for companionship, but Joey was a little younger than what she'd had in mind.
"Hi, Joey," she said. "My name's Daisy." Which didn't have much of an impact on Joey, but now the little girl, whose dress was probably a hand-me-down based on how poorly it fit her, was staring at Daisy. Sizing her up.
"Me and Joey have to go now," the girl insisted, but Joey didn't seem exactly inclined to agree with her. He was still sitting firmly on the ground, one hand on Daisy's ankle. "My auntie said not to wander off too far."
"How about I help you and Joey find your auntie?" Daisy offered. It wasn't, after all, like she had anything better to do. Joey seemed amenable and let her hold his hand and walk with him, while the girl, whose name turned out to be Irma, pointed this way and that to lead them back to where she remembered her family being. Before long, Joey let go of her hand to run toward a woman that wasn't a whole lot older than Daisy. Irma took her sweet time, and by the time she and Daisy got there, Joey had already loudly explained that he'd been lost and that the "nice lady" had found him.
Which got Irma scolded soundly and maybe that was why the girl moved so slow. (And maybe that was why Luke had dragged Daisy and Bo around as impatiently as he did when they were kids. If anything went wrong, he was the one to get yelled at for being the oldest and theoretically most responsible.)
"Irma was with him all along," she said. "She was doing a fine job of watching him."
Which made the scolding come to a self-conscious stop, and that probably didn't help anything, if the way the woman was looking at Irma was any indication. It'd all just start up again once the little family was alone.
"Where are my manners," the half-harassed woman said, pushing sweaty strands of light-colored hair back from her face. "My name's Velma." Which was one of those impossibly old names that was appropriate for someone's grandmother, but this woman was young. She couldn't be more than five years older than Daisy was. At least as far as she could tell, when Velma's eyes were obscured by sunglasses. But her body was slender and fit nicely into her jeans, and what Daisy could see of her face was unlined. "And Joey here is mine. Irma is my cousin's kid."
"Well, she did a good job of looking out for him," Daisy asserted, and just look at that, how Irma glowed under the praise. "You new to town?" she asked, because pretty much everyone else at this event had been coming since before Daisy could remember, but she'd never seen these three before.
Joey started pulling on Velma's jeans, asking to be picked up. "Um, yeah," Velma answered, bending and hefting the boy, who wasn't exactly small. But he wrapped his arms around her neck and held on as she shifted him into the crook of her right arm. "I'm not really living here, but my cousins are, at least for a bit. They're the ones that dragged me here, and then left me to look after the food and the kids while they're off down there," she said, pointing to where the races were just finishing up. "Playing games." A slight gust blew her hair into her face again and she used her free hand to hold it back. "Them two with the dark hair, tying their legs together for the three-legged race." They were of similar height to each other, at least. They might stand a chance, unlike Bo and Luke who never could coordinate their two different-sized frames.
"I reckon I understand that," Daisy started, pointing loosely at where Bo had collapsed on the ground somewhere short of the finish line. Luke was standing over him, probably complaining that they'd lost to a couple of kids. Before she could get to properly pointing her cousins out, though, a voice from the side called her name.
"Daisy? Daisy Duke, is that you?"
"Enos!" came out for too excited, before she could remind herself that she was a mature woman now who didn't squeal in glee at seeing a man she was maybe courting (but wasn't really sure). "I want you to meet somebody! Enos, this is Velma, Velma, this is Enos."
It was hard to tell, what with the sunglasses and all, but Daisy didn't think Velma even spared a glance at Enos.
"Your name is Daisy?" she asked and it was hard to imagine that Daisy had forgotten to introduce herself sooner.
"Yes, I'm sorry, Daisy Duke," she said, offering her hand. Which was silly when Velma's arms were full of Joey.
"Nice to have met you," Velma answered, "and I'm sorry to run, but I need to go meet up with my cousins."
It probably wasn't the most polite thought she'd ever had, but Daisy couldn't say she as sorry to see Velma go, carrying Joey and with Irma following at a distance behind.
"It's nice to see you here, Daisy," Enos bubbled at her. Smiling so hard that he had to be pulling muscles. "You sure do look pretty today," he added and left it at that. Nothing about her looking like Luke or a boy or her long-gone mother. No specific mention of her hair at all and she figured that was fine, as long as he thought she was pretty.
"I was starting to think you wouldn't come," she said, playfully slapping his arm. Then mentally chastising herself, because it was such a silly, girlish thing to do. Something she would have done to a high school boy, but Enos wasn't that.
"Me? I wouldn't miss the Fourth of July for anything," he said. "Though I did miss the parade, but that was only because I was studying!" Enos was a man, with goals and plans. "But I'm here in time for the fireworks."
With a few hours to spare. "It won't be dark for a while, now," she reminded him.
"Oh, that's okay. I already studied up for the rest of the day with the books I've got. Can't go to the library today; it's a holiday."
So it was, and now that she'd found Enos (or he'd found her) and he wasn't excusing himself to go find someone more buxom or mature to hang out with, she was at a loss for what to do. Up until now her plans for the day had included wandering around until she located him.
"You thirsty, Daisy?" Enos asked. "I ain't got much money so I can't buy you nothing fancy, but I reckon I could afford a drink of coke or something."
She laughed, shook her head. Felt the way her hair bounced rather than swayed and hated the feel. Then put the thought out of her mind, because Enos was here with her, offering to buy her something to drink. That had to make this a date, didn't it?
"The 4-H club is giving out water," she told him. "That's all I need." Besides, his money would be better spent on one of the carnival rides down on the level ground of the field. Maybe the Ferris wheel, where she could pretend to be scared of heights and throw her arms around him for protection.
But for now it was enough to walk next to him in the low angled sun, pausing to say howdy to neighbors and friends. To take a moment to point over towards the races - an egg race this time, and the way that Bo was sprinting past another guy - might have been one of Velam's cousins - who ran with a funny but quick pigeon-toed gait. To accidentally (mostly, anyway) brush her arm against Enos' as she let it fall back to her side. To imagine what it would be like when he took her hand in his sometime, maybe tonight. Since, as far as she could tell, this was their first real date and all.
"All right, you Dukes."
Sweat dripped out of the ends of Bo's hair, tracing down his spine. More of it was caught in his eyebrows, just waiting to make its way into his eyes. He swiped across his face with the tee shirt he held in his hands.
It was hot as blazes, and Luke was getting ready to run the obstacle course. Which meant that he was cultivating calm, acting like he didn't have a care in the world. Laying back on the grass with his arms behind his head and staring at the sky while he waited for his name to be called. Meanwhile Dobro Doolin was stretching and pacing and stretching some more. Acting like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers, because he would be racing against Luke.
One of the great secrets about his cousin was that Luke was nervous, too. Or excited or - something, he just wasn't as calm as he looked. There were things going on in that deep-thinking brain of his before any kind of competition, concerns that always made him touchy as hell. Used to be, back when he was in school, he couldn't be spoken to for hours before a big football game. He'd as soon snap your head off as answer you politely.
Which meant that it probably served everyone best if Bo was the one that handled Rocso.
"Well, hey, sheriff!" he greeted, smiling like a kid being offered a cookie. "You get to missing us already?"
"No, I don't miss you," was good news, even if Bo figured that maybe his feelings ought to be hurt. Seemed to him they were fine guests at the jail the night before last. They went out of their way to keep Rosco busy, anyway. "And that's why I don't want you loitering around here, causing no trouble."
"Ain't loitering," Luke informed him from where he was lying in the grass, looking every bit like a loiterer. "I'm running a race." Which was convincing.
"Rosco," Bo jumped in, because it would be fun to watch the man's face as he stumbled over figuring out how Luke could be running a race while flat on his back, but there was principle at stake here. "It's the annual July Fourth fair. Everybody's here. How can we be loitering when we're here celebrating with all of Hazzard?"
"Ijit!"
Luke raised an eyebrow at him in admiration. An unspoken contest had broken out between them the other night to see who could annoy Rosco more. Seemed like, almost 48 hours later, Bo had won.
"Put on your shirt," Rosco commanded. "And you," he said to Luke, "get up on your feet. Run your race and see to it that you stay out of my hair. I got my eye on you two, and if you give me any trouble at all, I'm gonna cuff you and stuff you and put you under the jail."
Well. That seemed a bit excessive.
"What's gotten into you?" Bo asked him, because all teasing aside, Rosco wasn't normally that short of temper. Maybe the heat was getting to him; there were surly beads of sweat just waiting to drip off his chin and down onto the blue fabric of his shirt which was, as always buttoned right up to the top.
"You always threaten your constituents like that?" Luke asked from the ground, not moving a muscle other than his mouth.
"What's gotten into me?" Rosco's voice was muffled as Bo pulled his shirt over his head. It only made good sense to put it back on, anyway, what with all the mosquitoes around. "I'll tell you what's gotten into me." His hand came up, finger pointing at Bo. Good thing it wasn't his gun or he might be shooting holes into painful places. "You just - you," pointing down at Luke now, who regarded him with a calmly tilted head. Go on, the twisted smirk on his lips invited. Tell me what I am. "You Dukes have been more than enough trouble to me lately. And I ain't got the time for it. So you just-you stay out of my way, or you'll be regretting it."
And Rosco stalked off muttering things that sounded half like curses and half like baby talk.
"What's with him?" Bo asked.
"You got me," Luke answered, and went back to staring at the sky.
July 5, 1974
It was hot. And dark, pitch black, and they were moving fast. Not carrying moonshine, unless it was back there in the secret storage compartments and he just didn't know about it. But no. They didn't have anything illegal anywhere on them or in the car, but still they were being chased. Lights flashing everywhere all around them and all they could do was run like a rabbit with a bobcat on its tail.
"Why's he after us?" Luke asked. "What does he want?" No answer, so he looked to his right - his right, which meant he was driving and Bo was riding shotgun, how strange - to see his cousin offer up a shrug and nothing more. Also strange, because Bo hadn't been quiet a single day in his life since he was a squalling baby.
It was hot, no air coming through the open windows, no matter how fast he drove. The lights were getting closer and the smell of tires burning on asphalt-
"Bo."
-it was in his mind to ask his cousin what the plan was, what he should be doing. Which didn't make sense, none of it made sense. A pop and a bang; a game of bumper tag and Luke might not have been Bo, but he wasn't a slouch. There hadn't been a day in his life when Rosco Coltrane could match him behind the wheel, much less get close enough to his bumper to ram it. Another crack that he heard but didn't feel, dogs barking somewhere and it was-
Waking up. In his bed and turning over because he was so dang hot, trying to get the sheets to stop sticking to him, and the lights from his dream were still there. Flickering like a cop in pursuit and-
"Fire! Bo, Jesse, wake up, fire!"
He didn't know where and he didn't know what, at least not until he was on his feet. Still half asleep and running for the kitchen door when he heard Maudine whinny. Barn.
"Boots!" Jesse was shouting from behind him, because he'd almost gone out the door in his bare feet. He stopped long enough to get one on, still kicking the second one onto his heel and he was halfway across the farmyard toward the roar of flames.
Turned back with a thought of going for the garden hose, but, "Me and Daisy got the hose," Jesse hollered. "Get to the livestock."
Then Bo was at his side with the kitchen fire extinguisher - good idea. The fire wasn't big, he didn't think, couldn't see it all, but what he could see looked manageable if they could get in there and get at it. Lots of hay and dry wood crackling at the mercy of the flames-
He was coughing before he even made it inside, tying to keep low. Through the door, brightness of flame but it hadn't reached this end yet. Opening the first gate and swatting at the goats so they'd run, listening to the snap and pop of flames, choking on the smell. Looking to see - maybe it wasn't so bad. Flames retreating from the spray of the extinguisher, and he moved on to the next corral. Hot wood, hot air, hot latch burning his fingers as he lifted it. Maudine, usually so stubborn, was perfectly willing to run the second her door was opened.
"Aim it there, aim it there!" he heard Daisy's shrill yell over the rest of it - the crackle and pop, the goats' complaints, his own coughing. Telling Jesse where to spray, and that was good. Meant they were both still outside.
"Get the chickens!" he hollered to Bo, breathed, coughed. Pointing over to the corner, his shadow looming in the eerie orange of the fire's glow. Went after the dog pen himself, opening the door and pointing out of the barn. The hounds knew enough to follow his silent command.
Tried to think. What did they need, what could he save? Coughing again, stooping low, wondering if it really mattered when the smoke was crawling along the underside of the loft.
Bo was tossing chickens out of the open coop one after another, but they were just clucking around at his feet, making a nuisance of themselves. They never had much taken direction and they'd always seemed to annoy Bo most of all. Luke took to chasing them toward the open door, choking out, "Rabbits!" Kept right on chasing chickens until cool air washed over where he'd swear his skin had been on fire, until it was dark and he could mostly breathe and they were outside. Getting sprayed by the hose which may have been accidental or on purpose. Maybe he really had been on fire.
Then Bo was there at his side, dropping the rabbit cage on the grass and falling to his knees.
Logical, logical, what did they need, what could they not replace? Livestock: safe, tractor: in the other barn. What else, what else?
The loft.
He pulled off the tee-shirt he'd worn to bed, put it over his mouth. Wet - good, that should help. Looked over at Bo to see soot on his face, white of his eyes peering up at him. Gasping and coughing and trying to breathe.
"Stay here!" he yelled or tried. It was a croak, half caught up in the shirt that was still in front of his face. Put up a hand like Rosco Coltrane at a traffic stop, figured his point got across. Bo could read his mind half the time anyway. Ran back into the barn.
"Luke, ya dang fool," carried over the pop and sizzle of flame. Jesse calling him back, but the old man would be the one most heartbroken if Luke didn't make it to the loft. To the chest that had been up there for years now, full of the kinds of treasures that only meant anything to one small family in one small corner of one lost county in north Georgia. So he ignored the call and went forward, toward the ladder. The fire was bigger now, or he had underestimated it before. Hot, hot, hot and he was coughing again. Smoke rising and the loft was up, but he had to go there. Had to try. Got his foot on the first rung, ready to climb.
Crack! Something fell, a beam or just a board or maybe the wall between the stalls. Sparks everywhere, even where there hadn't been fire before. Flaming tufts of hay falling around him and he had to get out, had to run.
"Bo!" Daisy's scream from somewhere, and then crack! again and there was heat all around him, singing the hair on his arms, taste of fire in his mouth and all the way down into his throat and his vision washed over black.
Crack!