Wrong Side of the Briar Patch 20/27
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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Twenty: Five Cards Short of a Full Deck
August 2, 1974
It was almost, but not quite, ridiculous. Like one of those plays they used to stage back in school.
The curtain opened, right after an early supper, on a scene that featured Daisy loudly declaring her interest in playing cards tonight. Maybe poker, five card draw, and wouldn't everyone join in? Jesse opting out on the loose excuse of work-to-do, screen door slapping shut behind him. Bo making a stink about how he and Luke had better things to do, too, but letting himself be pulled in. Luke helping out, going off to their bedroom to dig for that deck of cards they were going to need. Shouting over his shoulder toward the living room to ask if Bo was planning to deal from the top or the bottom of the deck, and oh, how the boy's eyebrows came down and his face twisted in annoyance at that. Luke impugning his honor, but even if the two of them would be long gone before the second act was due to begin, Luke figured Bo wouldn't want to be beaten by Daisy or Molly (and especially not Alice).
That whole spectacle was distracting and noisy, so no one noticed scene two, which was Jesse riding off on the back of his mule. It helped, probably, that he stuck to the tree-line when he did it.
Scene three had Luke in the dim light of evening, rubbing his sore butt from sitting on the living room floor in front of the low coffee table. They were somewhere in the middle of the ninth or eleventh hand, and he had a full house, jacks over sevens, with every intention of taking the pot (of toothpicks, because none of them had much of anything else to throw in) when the call came. Jesse, using a hand-held walkie-talkie over the emergency frequency to reach them on the CB, and they were all counting on Molly and Alice not realizing that in order fro them to receive his call, he had to be close.
Luke wasn't in any mood to get up and answer the CB, not now when he was about to win, so Bo did the honors. Had an incredibly stilted (and incredibly loud, but that part was pretty normal, anyway) conversation with Jesse in which the oldster declared that his boys were needed right away to help him at "the place." Luke figured the hand was doomed anyway, so he hopped up from the game to join Bo in the kitchen. Taking the microphone out of Bo's hand to offer a perfectly-normal sounding, "Ten-four," followed by a "Let's go, Bo!"
At the start of scene four, he was already out in Tilly, getting backed out of the back barn, when he realized he was still holding his jacks and sevens. Oh, well, Daisy would have to continue the charade of playing poker without those cards. Maybe scene five wouldn't last long enough for Molly or Alice to realize that any were missing anyway. Luke stuffed the rogue cards into the glove compartment.
Bo let the wheels slip in the loose dirt of the farmyard, kicking up twice as much dust as necessary, revving the engine until Santa Claus up at the North Pole should have been able to hear it, then taking off. Leaving behind such a cloud that there was no way to tell who might have been following them. (But they didn't have to know yet. Later on it would become important, and they could figure it out then.)
They took an oblong path, crossing over Route 81 into town, sliding by the Boar's Nest, wandering past Black Hollow and up to Timbertop Ridge, leaving an easy trail to follow in the pinkish-orange twilight. Bo tapped the brakes every now and then, just in case the spray of dust wasn't enough.
Finally, they ended up where they just as easily might have begun, driving the lane that ran along the north edge of their own land, as far from the house as they could be and still be on Duke property. Unimproved out here, mostly woods with the old shack that had been someone's honeymoon escape a few generations back and was now mostly ruins. A trail leading up the hill where a young pair of Duke cousins used to play ridiculous games of cowboys and Indians, and they left Tilly behind the scrawniest bush they could find. Enough cover to pretend they were hiding her, anyway. Then they walked slowly up the path, Bo's blond hair and yellow shirt gleaming all the way.
Still no sign of an ancient, pink-hued pickup truck and no signal from Daisy, so Act Two hadn't begun. But Luke still half figured that Molly and Alice weren't their biggest threat, anyway. They'd probably be along eventually, but he reckoned that a Cadillac would make its entrance first. Meanwhile, they might as well enjoy this peaceful little intermission.
They had been able to see the smoke billowing up out of the half-crumbled, stone fireplace from the lane; by the time they got up to where Jesse was stoking it in the foundation of what had once been a cabin, they were just about choking.
"What did you put in there?" Bo coughed out when they got close enough. It was almost rancid, closer to a taste than a smell, and far too reminiscent of what it had been like to clean up what was left of their main barn. The old man was smart enough to be standing upwind of his fine disaster of a fire.
"Some of them moldy old burlap sacks from the root cellar. The ones that you boys was supposed to get rid of months ago," Jesse answered, wrinkles around the corners of his eyes going to prove that the scolding wasn't entirely serious. (Maybe the intermission hadn't begun after all, and Jesse was playing out one extra scene for his own entertainment.) "Plus a bunch of leaves and rotted-out wood."
"Smells like it," Bo complained back at him.
"Well then get over here. Even a mule's got enough sense to stand upwind of a fire." And sure enough, there was Maudine, tethered to a tree not far from Jesse, offering up the same smug, chiding look as their uncle.
The darkness settled around them, their fire sending out a glowing beacon like Paul Revere's lanterns - one if by land, two if by sea. The truth was, whatever invasion they were expecting tonight would come by land and there was pretty much only one good way to get up here: follow the same trail that Bo and Luke had. The three of them watched and waited and knew the second act wouldn't start just yet, it would wait until the crickets had settled into their rhythm for the night, when the nearly-full moon was resting, fat and yellow, on the western horizon.
Nothing would happen until after Luke and Bo had taken their loud leave, so they did. Saying goodnight and happy cooking and we're just a CB call away when you need us again. Jesse admonishing them to behave themselves tonight better than they had on Tuesday (which felt a mite more real than acted) and waving them on their way.
Back down to Tilly, with Luke behind the wheel this time. Driving more gently than Bo ever did, trying to look like he was being careful when he was actually being visible, staying under the speed limit so no cop had any excuse to mess with him. Heading towards town, smooth hum of the engine that wasn't being taxed by Bo's heavy foot.
When they hit Jennings Crossing, instead of going into town, Luke turned off the headlights and pulled a one-eighty. Stayed away from the brake pedal, using the gears to slow him instead, and right back the way they came. Not all the way back, though; using the emergency brake to stop about a half mile from where they'd last parked, and stashing the car in the bushes good and proper, this time. "Let's go, Bo," and they were crawling out Tilly's windows so they wouldn't have to slam the doors after themselves. Luke leaning back in to grab the walkie-talkie they'd stashed in there earlier, then hitting the ground with the sort of stealth he and Bo mastered before they'd even learned fractions.
Tucked the walkie-talkie into his shirt, then he started bushwhacking through the tangles and briars, up the hill the hard way, the way no one in their right mind would go. Reaching back to offer Bo a hand up when his slippery-soled boots couldn't handle the terrain on their own, grunting at the extra weight and otherwise making their way in silence. Not quite back to Jesse, just to where they needed to be. To where no one would see them, but they could see everything. To wait for the next scene to unfold.
Poker wasn't her game. Especially not when she hadn't planned to play this long and, moreover, she was secretly playing five cards short of a full deck.
Daisy got up from the game on the pretense of getting everyone some lemonade, double checked that the CB receiver in the kitchen was turned on (but of course it was, it had squawked just fine earlier) and that the volume was high enough. Poured the lemonade, awkwardly carried the three glasses of it back into the living room. Played another couple of hands, then went back into the kitchen to get everyone a refill and check the CB again.
The dang thing was working, it had to be. Which didn't explain why she hadn't heard the slightest peep out of any of them.
Not Cooter, who was stationed outside J.D. Hogg's house in town. Watching for the man to leave, and if he did, Cooter would spout some nonsense over the airwaves about the turkey having flown before Thanksgiving. Once he did that, Daisy was supposed to head out, then stash her car in the shrubs along Old Mill Road and wait to see what Molly and Alice did. Except the turkey apparently didn't know it was supposed to have wings.
There'd also been nothing from the boys. They weren't, either one of them, known to be skilled communicators. Still, it was Luke's plan and he ought to have enough manners to let her know how it was going in whatever code language he wanted to use.
Not a peep out of Jesse, either. That part was good, she supposed. It meant he wasn't in any danger.
Molly and Alice, oddly, seemed plenty content to sip at sweet drinks and play cards all night. That incomplete deck was a greater challenge to disguise with each successive hand, and lemonade wasn't moonshine. No one was getting drunk and someone was going to start wondering about those sevens and jacks pretty soon.
Meanwhile, darkness had dropped down over the farmhouse like a shroud, and soon it wouldn't matter whether the CB squawked or didn't. She'd have to put an end to this charade of a game.
And still, the CB receiver didn't squeal, buzz or otherwise give her any answers.
Too dark, too late, too little information, and she had to go. What had she been thinking, leaving her kin out there this long? The barn had been burned, their corn crop vandalized, their deliveries hounded; what was next? Could be anything, and she'd just been sitting here, playing cards with Molly and Alice, who might just be in on the plot against the Dukes. She couldn't use the CB - not in front of them - so she had to go. Had to get out of the house.
"I need to go."
"Go?" Molly asked her. "Where child?"
Right, where. Where was she going, now that she was on her feet? Straightening the sundress she was wearing, scanning the room for her purse.
"Out." That was brilliant. "For a ride. To get some fresh air."
"We can open the windows," Alice offered, helpfully. "The ones that aren't already open, anyway." Because it was August and almost all of them were flung wide already.
"No," Daisy replied, too quickly. "Thank you. I just really love the way the air blows in the windows when I'm driving." Now she sounded like a lunatic.
"Well, that sounds nice, doesn't it, Alice? I believe we'll come along with you for that ride."
"Oh." Daisy tried to think. But it was hard when Alice was nodding her head vigorously at the idea and climbing up to her feet, stumbling like maybe she was half drunk on lemonade after all. "Well, I-"
"Now, a pretty, young thing like you," Molly started and Daisy had the oddest feeling that, like Hansel and Gretel, she was about to be invited to climb into the oven. "Shouldn't be riding around alone at this hour."
Alice nodded enthusiastically about that, too. Right hand getting licked, then smoothing down that cowlick in her hair like she was excited to come along on a pointless ride, and wanted to look her best for it.
"No, really, I'll be fine," Daisy swore. "I can look out for myself." Molly shook her head, and it was starting to feel an awful lot like she and Alice did not want to let Daisy out of their sight.
Which left Daisy to wonder whether they were working on some weird plan of their own (other than cooking her for next Sunday's dinner) or whether sleeping in her room wasn't enough and they wanted to spend every waking moment with her, too. "And then there's Enos." Of course, Enos, now that was a smart choice. Then again, saying his name left a lump in her throat. "You know, the deputy?"
"Her beau," Alice clarified for them all, giggling giddily.
"Right. He'll look out for me."
"Oh, you're going to see Enos?" Molly asked her. Didn't wait for an answer, which meant Daisy didn't have to lie. "Why didn't you say so? The last thing a girl wants on a date with her is two other women. Especially when one of them is as young and pretty as Alice." Right, that was exactly why Daisy didn't want them along. Because she was afraid Alice would steal Enos out from under her. Even if she didn't precisely want to stake any kind of claim on Enos right now. "All right, go on. I can see you're eager to get to him. So git!"
Daisy got.
There was nothing at all: darkness, quiet, waiting. Trap set, baited, tensed to snap.
Then there was everything all at once: Luke's yelp of surprise from the other side of the path they had been flanking, a flash of light, leaves crunching. A hard smack of skin on skin, a grunt.
"Luke!" Bo's own voice, hollering before he could even think, the loose ground slipping under his boot soles as he tried to run. "Luke," again, sound of another hard smack, a thud. The whap of a low tree branch across Bo's face as he moved, his hands going out in front of him to protect what he could, but not slowing.
"Luke? Bo?" That was Jesse, calling from up the hill by his awful fire. Was he in trouble too? A growl (that was probably Luke - he did that sometimes when a fight dragged him down to his most feral level), another grunt. "Boys?"
Tripping over a root or a rock, jolting shock of going down on his knees and then hands, smell of dirt and green things, scrambling to find his feet. Fingers caught in the net that he and Luke had laid under the leaves to catch anyone that tried to come up here. But whoever it was that was hitting Luke had managed come around another way after all. From behind or the side.
Feet finally under him, running toward where he'd last known Luke to be, toward where the scuffle was happening.
"Uh." That was Luke, maybe. Could have been someone else, but it had sounded like Luke, sounded like someone getting hit hard enough that all they could do was let out a groan.
"Luke!" How could it be that he just kept running and somehow didn't ever get any closer to the fight? What had they done to Luke?
"Get him!" A stranger's voice, female. Shaky like Molly's, but different pitch, lower. "You fools!"
Didn't make sense, some woman after Luke; didn't matter. His hand hit something solid, moving. He grabbed hold of what he could, a shirt, maybe, and pulled it toward him. Heard the rip, heard the grunt of surprise. Pulled back his fist and swung at what he couldn't see. Could only feel, felt like he just grazed against cloth and skin, not a solid hit. Pulled back his arm to try again, and it caught on something.
Or got caught; that was a hand on his bicep, near his elbow, holding him back. Pulling on him, twisting his arm and spinning him, pinning him against the nearest hard surface. Rough tree bark against his chest, smell of sap.
"Ow," he yelled, but he was more angry than hurt.
"Bo?" Close to his back, confused.
"Luke?" He said back, felt himself get released. Stupid, nervous laugh, could have been his or his cousin's - they had been fighting each other. "Where-" are the bad guys, and who are they, anyway? But he never got past that first word before he felt himself being propelled forward again. Taste of blood and dirt in his mouth, leaves crunching near his head and stars behind his eyes. Must be on the ground, and based on the stripe of pain down his chest and left arm, he probably hit the tree on his way down. He meant to call for his cousin again, but it came out as more of a moan.
Scuffling, leaves, feet close to his head. Had to get up, arms under to shove himself to all fours, and his head spun with just that little. Tried to shake it off, only made him dizzier, and someone stepped on his hand.
"Ow!" he hollered again, but it wasn't Luke hurting him this time. Couldn't have been or he would have stepped away, wouldn't have shifted his weight to press a boot heel down all the harder on Bo's hand, wouldn't have twisted and turned it a couple of times.
There wasn't much he could do except use his free hand to swat at the leg that the boot was attached to. To ball up a fist and punch.
"Boys?" Jesse again, closer. Luke had a flashlight; where was it now? A lantern, a match, even - he needed something that would tell him where his kin were, who were friends and who were enemies. Anything that would give him his bearings.
He shook out his hand once the weight was gone from it, didn't help the pain. Used his good hand to push himself to standing. Trying to figure out where anything at all was in the heavily shadowed moonlight, with his head ringing like a church bell on Sunday morning. Couldn't even see the fire their uncle had lit in the old fireplace - must be down in a low patch of land, one of those places that held water for a while after a good, soaking rain.
"Uhn," made him stop worrying about himself and where he was. Someone just took a punch. Might have been Luke on either end.
"Hey!" That wasn't Luke. Wasn't anyone he knew by voice, either. He moved in that direction, good hand out in front of him to search for anything at all, bad hand kept protectively close. Stumbling over a root or a rock (at least he hoped whatever it was wasn't a fallen family member), catching his balance, moving forward.
"Boys!" Jesse again. Bo ought to answer him, really should, but if the darkness was his foe, it was also his friend. He probably shouldn't broadcast his position like a CB transmission. "Dagnabbit!"
That was only frustration, Bo told himself. Jesse was just upset that his nephews weren't answering him. The old man was fine, he wasn't in any sort of danger-
And then it didn't matter, there was cloth under his fingers, warmth, and he cocked his bad fist and popped it forward quick. Hit something that might have been bicep or chest or belly - felt loose and flabby, elicited a grunt - then ducked. Cause and effect, if he hit, he could expect to be hit back, unless he got out of the way.
Cradling his sore hand again - next time he was going to feel around with his bad hand so he could hit with the good one. (There wasn't going to be a next time. He needed to end this thing here and now.)
Scuffle in the leaves, breeze past his cheek as he stood again - swing and miss. It took everything in him not to call out strike one. He took another quick jab into flesh, tried to duck again, and his chin got met by something hard. A knee, maybe, changed the pitch of the ringing in his ears, the speed with which his head spun, left him with the flavor of blood in his mouth. But it wasn't too bad, couldn't be. He was still on his feet. There was a sudden growl of frustration; Bo figured it meant another swing and miss. Strike two.
He stayed low, turned his good fist with intent to jab upwards at breastbone or chin, depending on his opponent's size and position. Ready to deal what he hoped would be a devastating blow and-
"Let go of me, you varmint!" That was Jesse. Jesse in trouble and whoever these guys were, they fought mean. Bo turned toward the sound, intent on leaving this fight behind to go help his uncle-
Flash of light behind his eyes, pain. Something hit him over the head, hard. But he was still upright, still going to help Jesse, and-
Bam!
That flash of light wasn't just in his head, that was Jesse's shotgun.
"Jes-" he said, got only halfway there before another blinding flash, another wave of pain and he was on his knees, all fours, going down, down, down…
Into blackness.
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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Twenty: Five Cards Short of a Full Deck
August 2, 1974
It was almost, but not quite, ridiculous. Like one of those plays they used to stage back in school.
The curtain opened, right after an early supper, on a scene that featured Daisy loudly declaring her interest in playing cards tonight. Maybe poker, five card draw, and wouldn't everyone join in? Jesse opting out on the loose excuse of work-to-do, screen door slapping shut behind him. Bo making a stink about how he and Luke had better things to do, too, but letting himself be pulled in. Luke helping out, going off to their bedroom to dig for that deck of cards they were going to need. Shouting over his shoulder toward the living room to ask if Bo was planning to deal from the top or the bottom of the deck, and oh, how the boy's eyebrows came down and his face twisted in annoyance at that. Luke impugning his honor, but even if the two of them would be long gone before the second act was due to begin, Luke figured Bo wouldn't want to be beaten by Daisy or Molly (and especially not Alice).
That whole spectacle was distracting and noisy, so no one noticed scene two, which was Jesse riding off on the back of his mule. It helped, probably, that he stuck to the tree-line when he did it.
Scene three had Luke in the dim light of evening, rubbing his sore butt from sitting on the living room floor in front of the low coffee table. They were somewhere in the middle of the ninth or eleventh hand, and he had a full house, jacks over sevens, with every intention of taking the pot (of toothpicks, because none of them had much of anything else to throw in) when the call came. Jesse, using a hand-held walkie-talkie over the emergency frequency to reach them on the CB, and they were all counting on Molly and Alice not realizing that in order fro them to receive his call, he had to be close.
Luke wasn't in any mood to get up and answer the CB, not now when he was about to win, so Bo did the honors. Had an incredibly stilted (and incredibly loud, but that part was pretty normal, anyway) conversation with Jesse in which the oldster declared that his boys were needed right away to help him at "the place." Luke figured the hand was doomed anyway, so he hopped up from the game to join Bo in the kitchen. Taking the microphone out of Bo's hand to offer a perfectly-normal sounding, "Ten-four," followed by a "Let's go, Bo!"
At the start of scene four, he was already out in Tilly, getting backed out of the back barn, when he realized he was still holding his jacks and sevens. Oh, well, Daisy would have to continue the charade of playing poker without those cards. Maybe scene five wouldn't last long enough for Molly or Alice to realize that any were missing anyway. Luke stuffed the rogue cards into the glove compartment.
Bo let the wheels slip in the loose dirt of the farmyard, kicking up twice as much dust as necessary, revving the engine until Santa Claus up at the North Pole should have been able to hear it, then taking off. Leaving behind such a cloud that there was no way to tell who might have been following them. (But they didn't have to know yet. Later on it would become important, and they could figure it out then.)
They took an oblong path, crossing over Route 81 into town, sliding by the Boar's Nest, wandering past Black Hollow and up to Timbertop Ridge, leaving an easy trail to follow in the pinkish-orange twilight. Bo tapped the brakes every now and then, just in case the spray of dust wasn't enough.
Finally, they ended up where they just as easily might have begun, driving the lane that ran along the north edge of their own land, as far from the house as they could be and still be on Duke property. Unimproved out here, mostly woods with the old shack that had been someone's honeymoon escape a few generations back and was now mostly ruins. A trail leading up the hill where a young pair of Duke cousins used to play ridiculous games of cowboys and Indians, and they left Tilly behind the scrawniest bush they could find. Enough cover to pretend they were hiding her, anyway. Then they walked slowly up the path, Bo's blond hair and yellow shirt gleaming all the way.
Still no sign of an ancient, pink-hued pickup truck and no signal from Daisy, so Act Two hadn't begun. But Luke still half figured that Molly and Alice weren't their biggest threat, anyway. They'd probably be along eventually, but he reckoned that a Cadillac would make its entrance first. Meanwhile, they might as well enjoy this peaceful little intermission.
They had been able to see the smoke billowing up out of the half-crumbled, stone fireplace from the lane; by the time they got up to where Jesse was stoking it in the foundation of what had once been a cabin, they were just about choking.
"What did you put in there?" Bo coughed out when they got close enough. It was almost rancid, closer to a taste than a smell, and far too reminiscent of what it had been like to clean up what was left of their main barn. The old man was smart enough to be standing upwind of his fine disaster of a fire.
"Some of them moldy old burlap sacks from the root cellar. The ones that you boys was supposed to get rid of months ago," Jesse answered, wrinkles around the corners of his eyes going to prove that the scolding wasn't entirely serious. (Maybe the intermission hadn't begun after all, and Jesse was playing out one extra scene for his own entertainment.) "Plus a bunch of leaves and rotted-out wood."
"Smells like it," Bo complained back at him.
"Well then get over here. Even a mule's got enough sense to stand upwind of a fire." And sure enough, there was Maudine, tethered to a tree not far from Jesse, offering up the same smug, chiding look as their uncle.
The darkness settled around them, their fire sending out a glowing beacon like Paul Revere's lanterns - one if by land, two if by sea. The truth was, whatever invasion they were expecting tonight would come by land and there was pretty much only one good way to get up here: follow the same trail that Bo and Luke had. The three of them watched and waited and knew the second act wouldn't start just yet, it would wait until the crickets had settled into their rhythm for the night, when the nearly-full moon was resting, fat and yellow, on the western horizon.
Nothing would happen until after Luke and Bo had taken their loud leave, so they did. Saying goodnight and happy cooking and we're just a CB call away when you need us again. Jesse admonishing them to behave themselves tonight better than they had on Tuesday (which felt a mite more real than acted) and waving them on their way.
Back down to Tilly, with Luke behind the wheel this time. Driving more gently than Bo ever did, trying to look like he was being careful when he was actually being visible, staying under the speed limit so no cop had any excuse to mess with him. Heading towards town, smooth hum of the engine that wasn't being taxed by Bo's heavy foot.
When they hit Jennings Crossing, instead of going into town, Luke turned off the headlights and pulled a one-eighty. Stayed away from the brake pedal, using the gears to slow him instead, and right back the way they came. Not all the way back, though; using the emergency brake to stop about a half mile from where they'd last parked, and stashing the car in the bushes good and proper, this time. "Let's go, Bo," and they were crawling out Tilly's windows so they wouldn't have to slam the doors after themselves. Luke leaning back in to grab the walkie-talkie they'd stashed in there earlier, then hitting the ground with the sort of stealth he and Bo mastered before they'd even learned fractions.
Tucked the walkie-talkie into his shirt, then he started bushwhacking through the tangles and briars, up the hill the hard way, the way no one in their right mind would go. Reaching back to offer Bo a hand up when his slippery-soled boots couldn't handle the terrain on their own, grunting at the extra weight and otherwise making their way in silence. Not quite back to Jesse, just to where they needed to be. To where no one would see them, but they could see everything. To wait for the next scene to unfold.
Poker wasn't her game. Especially not when she hadn't planned to play this long and, moreover, she was secretly playing five cards short of a full deck.
Daisy got up from the game on the pretense of getting everyone some lemonade, double checked that the CB receiver in the kitchen was turned on (but of course it was, it had squawked just fine earlier) and that the volume was high enough. Poured the lemonade, awkwardly carried the three glasses of it back into the living room. Played another couple of hands, then went back into the kitchen to get everyone a refill and check the CB again.
The dang thing was working, it had to be. Which didn't explain why she hadn't heard the slightest peep out of any of them.
Not Cooter, who was stationed outside J.D. Hogg's house in town. Watching for the man to leave, and if he did, Cooter would spout some nonsense over the airwaves about the turkey having flown before Thanksgiving. Once he did that, Daisy was supposed to head out, then stash her car in the shrubs along Old Mill Road and wait to see what Molly and Alice did. Except the turkey apparently didn't know it was supposed to have wings.
There'd also been nothing from the boys. They weren't, either one of them, known to be skilled communicators. Still, it was Luke's plan and he ought to have enough manners to let her know how it was going in whatever code language he wanted to use.
Not a peep out of Jesse, either. That part was good, she supposed. It meant he wasn't in any danger.
Molly and Alice, oddly, seemed plenty content to sip at sweet drinks and play cards all night. That incomplete deck was a greater challenge to disguise with each successive hand, and lemonade wasn't moonshine. No one was getting drunk and someone was going to start wondering about those sevens and jacks pretty soon.
Meanwhile, darkness had dropped down over the farmhouse like a shroud, and soon it wouldn't matter whether the CB squawked or didn't. She'd have to put an end to this charade of a game.
And still, the CB receiver didn't squeal, buzz or otherwise give her any answers.
Too dark, too late, too little information, and she had to go. What had she been thinking, leaving her kin out there this long? The barn had been burned, their corn crop vandalized, their deliveries hounded; what was next? Could be anything, and she'd just been sitting here, playing cards with Molly and Alice, who might just be in on the plot against the Dukes. She couldn't use the CB - not in front of them - so she had to go. Had to get out of the house.
"I need to go."
"Go?" Molly asked her. "Where child?"
Right, where. Where was she going, now that she was on her feet? Straightening the sundress she was wearing, scanning the room for her purse.
"Out." That was brilliant. "For a ride. To get some fresh air."
"We can open the windows," Alice offered, helpfully. "The ones that aren't already open, anyway." Because it was August and almost all of them were flung wide already.
"No," Daisy replied, too quickly. "Thank you. I just really love the way the air blows in the windows when I'm driving." Now she sounded like a lunatic.
"Well, that sounds nice, doesn't it, Alice? I believe we'll come along with you for that ride."
"Oh." Daisy tried to think. But it was hard when Alice was nodding her head vigorously at the idea and climbing up to her feet, stumbling like maybe she was half drunk on lemonade after all. "Well, I-"
"Now, a pretty, young thing like you," Molly started and Daisy had the oddest feeling that, like Hansel and Gretel, she was about to be invited to climb into the oven. "Shouldn't be riding around alone at this hour."
Alice nodded enthusiastically about that, too. Right hand getting licked, then smoothing down that cowlick in her hair like she was excited to come along on a pointless ride, and wanted to look her best for it.
"No, really, I'll be fine," Daisy swore. "I can look out for myself." Molly shook her head, and it was starting to feel an awful lot like she and Alice did not want to let Daisy out of their sight.
Which left Daisy to wonder whether they were working on some weird plan of their own (other than cooking her for next Sunday's dinner) or whether sleeping in her room wasn't enough and they wanted to spend every waking moment with her, too. "And then there's Enos." Of course, Enos, now that was a smart choice. Then again, saying his name left a lump in her throat. "You know, the deputy?"
"Her beau," Alice clarified for them all, giggling giddily.
"Right. He'll look out for me."
"Oh, you're going to see Enos?" Molly asked her. Didn't wait for an answer, which meant Daisy didn't have to lie. "Why didn't you say so? The last thing a girl wants on a date with her is two other women. Especially when one of them is as young and pretty as Alice." Right, that was exactly why Daisy didn't want them along. Because she was afraid Alice would steal Enos out from under her. Even if she didn't precisely want to stake any kind of claim on Enos right now. "All right, go on. I can see you're eager to get to him. So git!"
Daisy got.
There was nothing at all: darkness, quiet, waiting. Trap set, baited, tensed to snap.
Then there was everything all at once: Luke's yelp of surprise from the other side of the path they had been flanking, a flash of light, leaves crunching. A hard smack of skin on skin, a grunt.
"Luke!" Bo's own voice, hollering before he could even think, the loose ground slipping under his boot soles as he tried to run. "Luke," again, sound of another hard smack, a thud. The whap of a low tree branch across Bo's face as he moved, his hands going out in front of him to protect what he could, but not slowing.
"Luke? Bo?" That was Jesse, calling from up the hill by his awful fire. Was he in trouble too? A growl (that was probably Luke - he did that sometimes when a fight dragged him down to his most feral level), another grunt. "Boys?"
Tripping over a root or a rock, jolting shock of going down on his knees and then hands, smell of dirt and green things, scrambling to find his feet. Fingers caught in the net that he and Luke had laid under the leaves to catch anyone that tried to come up here. But whoever it was that was hitting Luke had managed come around another way after all. From behind or the side.
Feet finally under him, running toward where he'd last known Luke to be, toward where the scuffle was happening.
"Uh." That was Luke, maybe. Could have been someone else, but it had sounded like Luke, sounded like someone getting hit hard enough that all they could do was let out a groan.
"Luke!" How could it be that he just kept running and somehow didn't ever get any closer to the fight? What had they done to Luke?
"Get him!" A stranger's voice, female. Shaky like Molly's, but different pitch, lower. "You fools!"
Didn't make sense, some woman after Luke; didn't matter. His hand hit something solid, moving. He grabbed hold of what he could, a shirt, maybe, and pulled it toward him. Heard the rip, heard the grunt of surprise. Pulled back his fist and swung at what he couldn't see. Could only feel, felt like he just grazed against cloth and skin, not a solid hit. Pulled back his arm to try again, and it caught on something.
Or got caught; that was a hand on his bicep, near his elbow, holding him back. Pulling on him, twisting his arm and spinning him, pinning him against the nearest hard surface. Rough tree bark against his chest, smell of sap.
"Ow," he yelled, but he was more angry than hurt.
"Bo?" Close to his back, confused.
"Luke?" He said back, felt himself get released. Stupid, nervous laugh, could have been his or his cousin's - they had been fighting each other. "Where-" are the bad guys, and who are they, anyway? But he never got past that first word before he felt himself being propelled forward again. Taste of blood and dirt in his mouth, leaves crunching near his head and stars behind his eyes. Must be on the ground, and based on the stripe of pain down his chest and left arm, he probably hit the tree on his way down. He meant to call for his cousin again, but it came out as more of a moan.
Scuffling, leaves, feet close to his head. Had to get up, arms under to shove himself to all fours, and his head spun with just that little. Tried to shake it off, only made him dizzier, and someone stepped on his hand.
"Ow!" he hollered again, but it wasn't Luke hurting him this time. Couldn't have been or he would have stepped away, wouldn't have shifted his weight to press a boot heel down all the harder on Bo's hand, wouldn't have twisted and turned it a couple of times.
There wasn't much he could do except use his free hand to swat at the leg that the boot was attached to. To ball up a fist and punch.
"Boys?" Jesse again, closer. Luke had a flashlight; where was it now? A lantern, a match, even - he needed something that would tell him where his kin were, who were friends and who were enemies. Anything that would give him his bearings.
He shook out his hand once the weight was gone from it, didn't help the pain. Used his good hand to push himself to standing. Trying to figure out where anything at all was in the heavily shadowed moonlight, with his head ringing like a church bell on Sunday morning. Couldn't even see the fire their uncle had lit in the old fireplace - must be down in a low patch of land, one of those places that held water for a while after a good, soaking rain.
"Uhn," made him stop worrying about himself and where he was. Someone just took a punch. Might have been Luke on either end.
"Hey!" That wasn't Luke. Wasn't anyone he knew by voice, either. He moved in that direction, good hand out in front of him to search for anything at all, bad hand kept protectively close. Stumbling over a root or a rock (at least he hoped whatever it was wasn't a fallen family member), catching his balance, moving forward.
"Boys!" Jesse again. Bo ought to answer him, really should, but if the darkness was his foe, it was also his friend. He probably shouldn't broadcast his position like a CB transmission. "Dagnabbit!"
That was only frustration, Bo told himself. Jesse was just upset that his nephews weren't answering him. The old man was fine, he wasn't in any sort of danger-
And then it didn't matter, there was cloth under his fingers, warmth, and he cocked his bad fist and popped it forward quick. Hit something that might have been bicep or chest or belly - felt loose and flabby, elicited a grunt - then ducked. Cause and effect, if he hit, he could expect to be hit back, unless he got out of the way.
Cradling his sore hand again - next time he was going to feel around with his bad hand so he could hit with the good one. (There wasn't going to be a next time. He needed to end this thing here and now.)
Scuffle in the leaves, breeze past his cheek as he stood again - swing and miss. It took everything in him not to call out strike one. He took another quick jab into flesh, tried to duck again, and his chin got met by something hard. A knee, maybe, changed the pitch of the ringing in his ears, the speed with which his head spun, left him with the flavor of blood in his mouth. But it wasn't too bad, couldn't be. He was still on his feet. There was a sudden growl of frustration; Bo figured it meant another swing and miss. Strike two.
He stayed low, turned his good fist with intent to jab upwards at breastbone or chin, depending on his opponent's size and position. Ready to deal what he hoped would be a devastating blow and-
"Let go of me, you varmint!" That was Jesse. Jesse in trouble and whoever these guys were, they fought mean. Bo turned toward the sound, intent on leaving this fight behind to go help his uncle-
Flash of light behind his eyes, pain. Something hit him over the head, hard. But he was still upright, still going to help Jesse, and-
Bam!
That flash of light wasn't just in his head, that was Jesse's shotgun.
"Jes-" he said, got only halfway there before another blinding flash, another wave of pain and he was on his knees, all fours, going down, down, down…
Into blackness.