by: WENN9366 (EnosIsMyHero)

Chapter 9: End of Innocence

Enos stopped his car and got out at the end of Ridge Runner Road. Before him the land fell off in a steep ravine, ending at a road he driven on only fifteen minutes earlier. This was one of the highest places in the county and from his vantage point he could see the tiny town of Hazzard to his right, snuggled away at the base of the Blue Ridge foothills and Highway 20, winding like a silver snake through the valley until it disappeared to the south. To his left was Choctaw County, more mountainous than Hazzard County, the peaks rising up to meet the low lying clouds.

He closed his eyes as a wind swept across the hills, coming not from the southwest, but from the north – a wind that brought a chill, and not only from the cold. His clock was ticking and, in the last hours before the storm, it was irrevocably joined with Daisy’s. He opened his eyes and cast a last glance around him. Somewhere – somewhere within the area that he could see – she was there, he knew it.

“Daisy,” he whispered, “where are you…”

“Let me outta here! I wanna lawyer…and some food! I’m gonna sue you when I starve. Hey! Somebody come down here an’ talk to me!” Josh Hooper had woken up half an hour before and had been complaining ever since.

“I’m about t’ go down there an’ shut his pie hole for him in a minute,” griped Rosco. “Cletus, where’d Enos say he was goin’? I though he wanted t’ question that numb-skull.”

“He said he was goin’ t’ drive back up around Ridge Road for a bit, just in case he spotted that there pickup truck.”

“Dang-it!” Rosco got up and went over to the police radio. “Enos, Enos this is your comman…Uh…uh…this is Sheriff Ros—co P. Coltrane. Are ya’ out there? Come on.”

Enos’s voice was faint as he picked up. “Hey Sheriff, this is Enos.”

“Enos, your dipstick’s woken up. Either ya’ get back here an’ ask him your questions or I’m gonna put him t’ sleep again. He’s drivin’ me an’ Cletus bonkers.”

“I’m comin’ in now, thanks Sheriff. Enos out.”

Enos spun the car around and headed back down towards town a different way than he’d come up, slowing down as he passed each homestead and shack. He drove past a trailer with an off-white pickup in the yard, roughly the right year, and pulled the car over. It hardly bore examining, he could see when he was twenty feet away that the tires were just about worn down to the threads. He gave a cursory glance around it, though. One corner of the bed was filled with stagnant water – this truck hadn’t moved in quite a while. The screen door of the trailer opened and banged shut. Enos looked up to see a woman, blond and in her mid 30’s, walking towards him with a shotgun.

“Hey, you! Get away from that truck!”

Enos took another look at the woman. “Amy? Amy McCullum?”

“Enos? Oh my gosh!” The woman set the shotgun down against the porch and ran over to give him a hug. “What are you doin’ here? Last I heard you was a big shot in California!”

“I’m still there, though I wouldn’t say I’m much of a big shot.”

“Hell, y’are around here! Gosh, we’re all so proud of ya’, it’s not like one of us escapes these hills every day, ya’ know. Is there somethin’ I can help ya’ with?”

“Well, I’m lookin’ for a pickup that looks a lot like this. Thought this might have been it, but it’s not.”

“This ol’ thing? Naw, th’ clutch done give out on it last fall. Gotta wait till it gets warmer an’ drier t’ work on it, though.”

“How’s business?”

She grinned and elbowed him. “Now why would I be talkin’ to a police officer about such things?”

“Shucks Amy, you know I ain’t never given nobody away up here. What I don’t see ain’t my business, I reckon.”

“Enos, I swear, you’re th’ best dang cop Hazzard ever had.” She turned to the truck and kicked a tire. “Be better when we can get th’ truck going. Jasper comes up an’ takes th’ orders but he broke two jugs last week. He’s too busy racin’ t’ remember what his cargo is.”

“That’s a shame, your daddy always made some o’ th’ best around.”

“Hey now, my pa’s getting’ old! I do most of it now. So anyways, I heard someone was lookin’ for Andy. That you?”

Enos frowned. “Word travels fast. You know where I can find him?”

Amy shook her head. “I wish I did, an’ I’ll tell ya’, I wouldn’t have no trouble rattin’ out that good fer nothin’. He’s th’ reason half o’ th’ kids in Hazzard are smokin’ dope.”

“He’s growin’?”

“Yeah, him an’ that Josh Hooper kid. Got ’emselves a greenhouse somewhere’s up here. I don’t know where, though.”

“Thanks Amy, you’ve been a big help. I gotta get back t’ town, but maybe I’ll see ya’ around later.”

“You take care of yourself, Enos.”

“Bye, Amy.”

That explained why Josh didn’t want to tell him where Andy was thought Enos as he continued on his way into town. If they were sitting on a patch, he’d probably rot in jail until he got his slap on the wrist. Enos looked at his watch. It was already 4:05pm. He’d wasted too much time up here with nothing more to show for it than a confirmed hunch that Andy was growing weed.

Something else bothered him as well…pot growers usually didn’t try to make extra trouble for themselves – and serial killers were usually too focused on themselves to grow pot. Why did he feel like he was missing something?

Enos pulled his car up in front of the Sheriff’s department and went in.

“Hey Cletus, he’s awake?”

A thunking noise began from downstairs as Josh began kicking on the bars again.

“You’d better go down there before Rosco comes back,” said Cletus. “He’s been doing that for th’ last hour.”

“Thanks, Cletus.” Enos hung up his coat and walked through the booking area and down the narrow stairway at the back to where the holding cells were.

“You!” shouted Josh at Enos. “You’re in big trouble, buddy! You ain’t got no right t’ hold me in here. Warn’t no weed on my property – you ain’t got nothin’ on me!”

Enos rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. You were smokin’ weed when I found you.”

“I..I don’t ‘member that.”

“Well, you can remember that later, right now I need ya’ to remember where I can find Andy Higgins.”

“Huh uh…I ain’t got no idea where Andy is. I already tol’ ya’ that.”

Upstairs, Bo and Luke entered the Sheriff’s department. “Say, Cletus, you seen Enos?”

“Uh yeah, he’s downstairs with Josh Hooper. Say…”

“…Thanks, Cletus.” The men walked around Cletus’s desk and headed to the stairway.

“Listen, I know he’s growin,’ an’ I know you’ve been helpin’ him. It’ll go a lot easier with you if you just tell me where he is right now. I’m gonna find him eventually.”

“Then go find him yourself, asshole!” Josh spat at Enos through the bars.

Enos reached through the bars and grabbed the man’s shirt, jerking him forward and smashing his face into the cell door. “I’ve had just about all from you that I can say grace over, Buddy Roe.”

The man let out a frightened squealing sound. Luke and Bo heard it and rushed down the stairs.

“What the…Enos!” shouted Bo, “Let go o’him!”

“Tell me where he is!” yelled Enos.

“Bo, help me!” Luke grabbed one of Enos’s arms, trying to pull him away from the man whose face he was still crushing into the bars, but Enos was stronger than he looked.

“Leave me alone, Luke! He knows where Andy is an’ he’s gonna tell me.”

“Enos, this ain’t th’ way t’ do it. You’re gonna get yourself in trouble!”

Enos put his face up beside Josh’s. “If she dies, I’ll find you… an’ you’ll wish I hadn’t,” he said, quietly, before letting him go. The man fell to the floor.

Enos ran up the stairs, grabbed his coat from the hook in the booking room and took off out the door. Bo and Luke were too late to stop him.

“Come on, Luke, we’d better go after him.”

Luke caught Bo’s arm and held him back from the door as the sound of squealing tires came from outside. “Let him go, Cuz. He’ll be back. Let’s see if we can talk some sense into that kid downstairs.”

“Hey, now boys,” whined Cletus, as they passed his desk again, “you ain’t really supposed to be down there, ya’ know. Rosco’s libel t’ think o’ some reason for you t’ stay there permanent.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Cletus,” said Luke. “We’ll be fine.”

The cousins went back down the stairs to find Josh sitting dejectedly on his bunk. He jumped up, frightened, when they came back. “Hey, you keep that crazy guy away from me!”

“Listen…Josh, I’m Luke Duke, an’ this here’s my cousin, Bo. I’m sorry that Enos scared ya’, but well, we’re in kind of a bind here an’ we could really use your help.”

“I’m not tellin’ where Andy is. If I did that, I’d be loosin’ a lot more money than just a fine fer smokin’ some weed.”

“Look, we have reason to believe that your friend might know somethin’ about the girls that got murdered up in Choctaw. Now our cousin, Daisy, is missin’. Enos…he’s pretty close to her.”

“Girls?” Josh looked at them like they’d gone crazy. “I definitely don’t know nothin’ about no girls.”

“Well, when’s the last time you saw Andy?” asked Bo.

“Shoot, it’s been going on three weeks now. I swear, I didn’t know he was mixed up in somethin’ like that!”

Bo smiled. “So, you wouldn’t mind tellin’ us where he is?”

“Well, it ain’t all that easy. Ya’ see, there ain’t no road names up there. I’d have t’ take ya’ myself.”

Bo and Luke glanced at each other.

“You two can even cuff me.”

“I don’t see no harm in it, Luke,” said Bo. “It ain’t like he can go anywhere’s if he’s cuffed.”

“I don’t know…” Luke racked his brain for a better solution.

“Come on, Luke! That ice storm ain’t gonna hold off much longer – it’s already dropped ten degrees outside.”

Luke sighed. “Okay, fine…we’ll have to distract Cletus, though.”

“Well, that ain’t never been a problem before.”

Bo ran upstairs. “Uh, hey, Cletus!”

“Yeah, Bo? What’s wrong?”

“The kid downstairs says Andy’s truck is parked over there at ol’ Ace Parker’s lot.”

“Buzzards on a buzz-saw! You mean he’s traded it in?”

“Looks that way. You’d best get over there an’ check it out. We’ll hold down th’ fort here ’till Rosco gets back.”

Cletus got up and grabbed his coat. “You would? Gosh, that sure is nice o’ you two. I’ll get right out there.” He walked towards the door.

“Oh hey, Cletus,” called Bo. “better leave th’ keys here, just in case.”

“Oh yeah, here ya’ go.” Cletus threw the key ring with the cell keys to Bo and headed out the door.

Bo laughed and shook his head. “We’d sure be in trouble if that guy ever grew any brains.” He grabbed a set of handcuffs from Cletus’s desk drawer, left a short note so Rosco wouldn’t think they’d just let him escape, and headed back down.

“Here Luke.” He threw the cuffs to Luke and unlocked the cell door. “No funny stuff, now, Josh.”

“No way, man. I don’t wanna get caught up in any kind o’ murder rap.”

Luke cuffed the mans hands behind him and led him upstairs and out of the building down to where the General Lee sat in front.

Bo pulled the seat forward and he and Luke lifted Josh through the window into the back seat, then hopped in themselves and took off.

It struck Rosco immediately that something wasn’t right when he returned. It was too quiet.

“Cletus? Cletus, where are ya’? Dang nam it! That boy’s dumber than a bag o’rocks.” He went over to Cletus’s desk and found the note that Bo Duke had left.

“Josh says he’ll show us where Andy’s at.”

“Ooo…that’s not good.” He grabbed the keys from the desk and went downstairs. “Ooo..jeet…that’s really not good. Enos is gonna kill them. Then he’s gonna kill Cletus. …Then I’m gonna kill Cletus,” he added. He went back up the stairs and picked up the CB.

“This is Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane calling Bo and Luke Duke. You better come in, boys, an’ I mean right now…this is serious…”

“Hey Rosco, this here’s Luke. Look, I’m sorry we had t’ bail Josh out without tellin’ ya’, but after we told him about the murders he decided he didn’t want no part in it and said he’d take us t’ Andy.”

“That riffraff’s gonna shuck-an-jive you, boys. Now, you turn around right now an’ come on back here.”

Enos, who’d heard the exchange between the two picked up. “Luke, Rosco’s right. If he’s takin’ you up in them hills, you’ll be lucky enough t’ make it back down. He’s the only lead we’ve got an’ we can’t afford t’ loose him. Y’all need t’ turn around!”

“Look Enos,” said Luke, “I understand that, but you didn’t see his face. I think we can trust him t’ show us where he is.” Luke’s voice broke up as their signal began to fade.

“Luke, you ain’t thinkin’ straight!” pleaded Enos, “You can’t trust him t’ do that! Where’s he takin’ ya’?”

…Static…”About five miles off Cedar Point Lane, windin’ around a little.”

“He’s takin’ ya’ right back t’ Abel Higgins place! Turn around, Bo, you guys are headed right into a trap.”

“Enos, we ain’t…get anywhere waitin’… him t’ answer your questions. We’ve…him cuffed…ain’t goin’ nowhere…right back…an’ out.”

“Ding-dang it all! Luke! Bo!” There was no response from the cousins. “Rosco, I’m comin’ in.”

“That’s a big 10-4, Enos. Over an’ out.”

“Pull over right here,” said Josh. They parked at the base of a wooded hill and climbed out of the car, helping Josh out as well. “If we go straight up the hill, he won’t see us. Th’ house is at th’ top.”

“Sounds good,” said Luke. “Lead th’ way, but stay close.”

Together they made their way through the quiet woods. They’d almost reached the house when Bo’s foot caught the fishing line strung between the two trees. Pots, pans, and dishes rattled loudly. He looked over at Luke, a frightened expression on his face.

“Luke…”

“I think we’ve been snookered, Cuz.”

Josh grinned triumphantly at them as four men with shotguns came from over the ridge.

“Josh!” shouted one of the men. “Ya’ havin’ some trouble?”

“Yeah, boy I’m I glad t’ see you, Earl! These r’ th’ guys snoopin’ around fer Andy.”

“Oh really…” Earl looked over at Bo and Luke and raised his shotgun at them. “You boys look t’ be tresspassin’. I’m gonna count t’ three, an’ then I’m gonna start shootin’…One…”

Bo and Luke looked at each other and turned and ran down the hill.

“Two…,” the man called after them.

They hopped into the General Lee and spun it around. A shotgun blast rang out, disintegrating the General’s left side taillight. They tore through the back roads until they turned back onto Cedar Point Lane. Bo pulled the General over to the side of the road and killed the engine.

“Luke,” he said quietly, “Do you realize what we’ve just done?” He looked over at his cousin whose expression closely matched his own stricken one. “He was th’ only one who could’ve shown us where Daisy is. We’ve killed her, Luke…”

“It ain’t over yet, Bo. We’ll figure somethin’ out…”

“Why’d we go an’ do such a fool thing? We should’a listened to Enos. He’s gonna kill us…and I wouldn’t blame him one bit.”

“Let’s just get back to town. We’ll put our heads together…come up with somethin’.” He rubbed his face. Lord, but he didn’t want to have t’ face Enos with this.

Bo started the General and they made their way back into town. Night had fallen and with it the temperature which now hovered in the mid-30’s. They had no way of knowing the gravity of that fact – Enos hadn’t told them his suspicions about Daisy being kept outside, but there would be no looking for anyone in a north Georgia ice-storm or for several days after one.

Heavy hearted, they pulled up in front of the Courthouse and climbed out. Luke was sure Rosco or Enos one would be waiting for them when they walked in…and there was no hiding that Josh Hooper wasn’t with them. He didn’t have to wait for his suspicions to be confirmed. Enos was waiting just inside the door

“Where’s Josh?”

“We’re sorry, Enos,” said Luke. “You were right, an’ we screwed it up real good. I don’t know what else t’ say.”

“I told you he was leadin’ you to a trap!”

“You gotta believe us,” said Bo, “we feel awful. We just…we thought we had t’ take th’ chance…for Daisy’s sake.”

Enos turned on Bo, “There’s nothin’ I wouldn’t do t’ find her if I thought it’d work! Don’t you even think about sayin’ otherwise!”

“Now, Enos, that’s not how I meant it an’ you know that.” Bo took a step forward. “She’s our kin.”

Enos shoved him. “Are you sayin’ I don’t care for her as much as you ’cause we’re not related? There’re things thicker than blood, Bo Duke!”

“Like what, Enos?” asked Bo, shoving him back. “You’re th’ one who left Hazzard. If you cared so dang much for her, you could’a stuck around!”

Enos caught him with a right hook and Bo went down like a sack of potatoes.

“Hey!” shouted Luke, “You two calm down! This ain’t gonna help nothin’.” He pointed to his cousin who was rubbing his jaw and split lip. “You deserved that.”

Enos disappeared out the door.

“Enos!” Luke called after him, but he was already in his car and pulling away. He turned back to Bo and helped him up. “Nice work. Do you think ya’ could be a little more of a jerk next time or is that your limit?”

Enos pulled his car up to the edge of Hazzard Pond, turned off his CB, and got out. The night was still clear, but there was a dark wall of clouds to the northwest, stretching out as far as the eye could see, rolling closer and closer with every minute. He took a seat under an old, gnarled tree that grew by the bank. His hand still smarted from hitting Bo, a fact that he’d normally have felt bad about under different circumstances. Now, he didn’t know what to feel. He supposed he could be angry with them for letting Josh escape, but honestly it probably didn’t matter much – he wouldn’t have told them where Andy was anyway.

He picked up a rock and tossed it into the water, but the sound reminded him of other days, long ago, and he realized belatedly that Hazzard Pond was the worst spot he could have picked to come. It was less than three miles from the Duke Farm as the crow flew, and himself, Luke, Bo, and Daisy had spent countless hours here on summer days when they were younger – summer nights, too, when the catfish were biting. He’d driven by instinct, though, not really even noticing where he was going until he’d pulled onto the road that led down to it.

This pond had seen more of his memories than the mountains had, he reckoned, good and bad. When he was fifteen, he’d come here the day his pa’ had died. Daisy had found him, hours later, sitting against this same tree. He had no idea how long they’d sat there together, neither of them ever speaking a word, until he’d felt like going back. He’d always missed that – the closeness that he and Daisy had shared when they were younger, the ability to know what the other was thinking without saying a word… but it had ended when he was 17…

“Enos, have you ever kissed a girl?”

He shut his eyes and covered his ears in an effort to make the memory go away, but it played on through his mind.

It had been a summer day and he’d come home from the academy to get away from the city. The four of them had come down to fish, but the fish had had other plans. After three hours of nothing biting other than the mosquitoes and chiggers, Bo and Luke had called it quits. He and Daisy had stuck around a while longer, talking about nothing in particular.

“So what’d you get on your history test you were studyin’ for,” he asked her. She’d always hated history with a passion, mostly because everyone knew Mr. Reed was the most boring teacher in the entire tri-county area.

“I passed…”

“I didn’t ask ya’ if ya’ passed. What did ya’ get on it?”

“…a D…plus,” she laughed.

“Daisy, you’re smarter’n that. You’d have straight “A’s” if ya’ paid more attention in class and less to th’ back end of Jake Tolliver.”

She elbowed him. “I do no such thing!”

“Yeah, right,” he grinned. “Don’t worry, Daisy, your secret’s safe with me!” He made like he was zipping his lips. ” At least until I tell your cousins!”

“Enos Strate! You tell them a lie like that and I’ll…I’ll tell Amy you’d be happy to take her to th’ school dance next month.”

“Shucks, Daisy, I’m just pickin’ at ya’,” he grumbled. “There’s no need t’ get mean about it.” He picked up their rods and started up the bank. “Come on, we’d better get back before Uncle Jesse feeds our dinner to Maudeen.”

“Enos, have you ever kissed a girl?”

He stopped, sure he hadn’t heard her right, and turned around. “What?”

“Well, ya’ know, some of th’ girls were talkin’ at school. And…well, I want to know what it’s like…to kiss a boy, that is.”

Enos was still reeling from her first question, and his brain hadn’t caught up enough to think of anything to say. She walked over to him and threw her arms around his neck.

“Come on, it’s not like I can ask my cousins. It wouldn’t mean anything.”

He looked down at her, confused. “Y…you..want me t…t’ kiss you?”

“Sure, what’s the big deal? I’m your best friend, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but…” He’d never thought of Daisy in any context other than that.

“So?”

“Umm…okay, I guess…” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

“Not like that…like this…” She pressed her lips gently to his for a moment before letting him go and smiling up at him. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” She picked up the rods that he’d dropped and started up the hill. “Come on, we’d better get back. Uncle Jesse’s gonna tan my hide if I’m late for supper again.”

He watched her go, unable to move, his heart pounding. The moment her lips had touched his, the life he knew had ended. He’d never been able to look at her in the same light after that, or talk to her without fumbling over his words, or turning five shades of red. Daisy herself had never said another word about it.

Enos looked up at the stars – the same stars that shone over Daisy, wherever she was. He was out of ideas, out of time, out of luck. The first drops of rain mixed with his tears as he sat alone, staring up into the night.

Twenty-two miles away, in the hills of northern Hazzard County, another set of hazel eyes stared up into the sky from the bottom of an old abandoned well. She tried to remember how long it had been since she’d woken up to find herself here. It was probably Wednesday or Thursday night, but she couldn’t be sure. Since Friday, the time had been marked only by the rising and setting of the sun, and the man who peered over the edge occasionally. He had thrown her packages of Twinkies and other junk food during the course of the week and a large bottle of water five days ago which she’d drunk sparingly. She’d given up screaming for help, not only because it hadn’t brought any, but the sound of her voice reverberating off the stone-lined walls of her makeshift prison had been enough to suck any courage she’d had left out of her. The well at least had been dry for the most part and it hadn’t rained, and she still had her coat. The temperature had started falling during the day though, and now she was shivering even though the well protected her from the wind.

It wouldn’t protect her from whatever was coming, though. She knew that. On the far side – the side she’d tried to avoid looking at, there was a broken fingernail, wedged in the crevice between the rocks. She thought about what to do when the man came for her. If he lowered a ladder, she could try to climb it and then run. She could try to fight, though she didn’t have much hope that she’d be able to hold up very long. Daisy had no illusions that her time to live was probably short. If she was in the hills, no one would find her in time to save her. It looked like the Duke luck had finally run dry.

by: WENN9366 (EnosIsMyHero)

Chapter 8: Old Familar Faces

 

Enos left at first light, after having slept only an hour or so after returning to his room the night before. Taking the shotgun and extra ammo with him, he climbed into his car and sped away. Today was Wednesday and if he didn’t find her in the next 24 hours, he knew his chances were slim he’d find her alive. The weather, as if in defiance of the forecast for the next afternoon, was a balmy 54 degrees – abnormally warm, even for Georgia.

On the other side of the county, Rosco, too was awake. He’d taken home the camera they kept at the Sheriff’s office so he’d be able to drive straight over to where Enos had told him Daisy’s Jeep was. He carried Flash out of his house and down to the patrol car.

“Now Flash,” he said, lovingly, “Daddy’s got to do some real police work today, so I’ll have to leave you in th’ car. But I brought your doggy num-nums with me for you to have a snack while I’m busy.” He deposited Flash in the back seat and climbed into Hazzard #1.

Highway 20 ran along the southern edge of Hazzard county and Rosco followed it until he came to the “T” where Mill Creek Road took off, heading west. Snake Trail was fifteen miles out from the town and half an hour later he pulled off of the road beside the split where it merged with Mill Road. He grabbed the camera from the passenger’s seat.

“Daddy’ll be right back, Flash.” He turned around to find the aging Bassett hound asleep. “I sure hope I remember how t’ work this cotton pickin’ thing.”

He climbed out of the car and walked over to the edge of the road where he could see the skid marks in the mud. In the 38 years since he’d been a police officer, he’d never had anything as serious as this happen. Sure, he’d seen plenty of tragedy in Hazzard County, but mostly it was Moonshiners getting’ blown up by their own stills, the way Enos’s father had gone out. He snapped a couple of pictures of both sets of tracks in the road and then headed through the briars down the ravine towards the Jeep.

“Ooo..jeee…these stickers are sharp…ow! Now, what the heck was I supposed t’ be lookin for?” He saw the footprints beside Dixie. “Oh yeah, tracks. There’s a good one.”

Rosco bent over and took a picture, managing to get his own feet in the frame as well. The deer trail was on the other side of the Jeep and he followed it, taking pictures of both sets of tracks as he walked along. He nearly fell in the mud when he came to the scuff marks in the ground where they stopped. He took a picture of the area and turned to leave when something white in the brush caught his eye.

“Looky here, I think I done found a clue. Kew Kew!” He reached out to pick it up, but then stopped. “I guess I’d better take a picture of it first.” He took a picture and again reached out to pick it up, and stopped. “Wait…now, when you find a clue, you’re not supposed t’ touch the evidence.”

He felt around on himself and found a pen which he used to carefully pick up what he could now see was a white cotton handkerchief. He walked slowly back out of the woods and up to his patrol car, holding it out before him as though it were a bomb that might explode at any second. He reached in the car and dumped his lunch out of its brown paper bag and stuck the handkerchief inside instead.

“Look at that, Flash,” he said, holding the bag up in front of the dog. “Daddy’s done bagged a clue! Kew Kew! I love it! I love it!”

He started the car, turned it around, and headed back to town.

 

Enos turned right off of Mill Road up Cedar Point Lane which ran north up into the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains towards the area of Dry Creek. Dry Creek wasn’t really dry, but the name had been given to it longer ago than anyone in these hills could remember and the name had stuck throughout the generations. He drove almost by rote, turning down roads that had no names, heading further and further into the heart of moonshine territory until he came to where he remembered the old Higgins place being and pulled off. He grabbed the shotgun from the backseat. Hoping maybe he could catch the old man alone, he walked up the wooded hill towards the shack. He didn’t remember how many sons Abel had, but making shine was a family affair and if he went straight to their still there was libel to be more people around.

Enos made his way slowly, ever mindful of traps. As he neared the house, he came to a place where two trees stood parallel to each other. Instead of continuing on the path between the trees, he walked over to one of them and bent down, feeling in the leaves at the base. His fingers caught on a strand of fishing line, running from one tree to the other. He was sure it was connected to some sort of noise maker, but didn’t pull on it to find out. Stepping carefully over the line, he continued up to the front of the small cabin.

He shouldered the 12 gauge and knocked on the door, waited and then knocked again. Finally a scuffling of feet could be heard inside.

The door didn’t open, but Enos noticed the piece of wood in the wall beside it that covered a peephole move slightly out of the way.

“Who r’ you?” came a gruff voice from inside.

“It’s Enos Strate, sir, Otis Strate’s son.”

“You don’t have no business here.”

“I’d be mighty obliged if I could talk to ya’ for a minute, Mr. Higgins.”

A long moment passed and Enos was beginning to think he’d have to try another tactic when he heard the scrape of the board barring the door move aside. It opened to reveal a tall, broad shouldered man with a scruffy beard, and hair that looked like it had been hacked off with a rusty knife.

“I said you didn’t have no business here. An’ I know who y’are. We don’t take kindly t’ deputies snoopin’ ’round these here parts.”

“I ain’t been a deputy for years, sir.” Enos reckoned that was technically true enough.

“Well then what d’ya’ want?”

“I need t’ talk to your son, Andy, sir. Is he here by chance?”

“No, he ain’t here, and if’n he was wouldn’t be none o’ yer business I reckon. Now, me an’ my boys are gonna give you exactly one minute t’ get offa my property.”

Enos’s eyes widened as he heard the familiar “ch-chick” of a shell being pumped into a shotgun to the left of him and realized he’d been flanked as a third man made his way from around the right side of the house.

“Hey, now fella’s,” he said, holding his hands up. “I didn’t come here for no trouble. I’m goin’.”

He backed up and then walked backwards down the hill, tripping over the fishing line and rattling a host of tin plates and cups that had been rigged to it. The men laughed as he picked himself up and ran down the hill.

“What d’ ya’ think he was wantin’ with Andy, pa’?” Asked one of the men.

“I don’t know, but you two better go on an’ check th’ still. Somethin’ don’t smell right about that boy.”

“Sure thing, Pop.”

The two younger men hopped in the old truck that sat in front of the shack and headed off down the road. Abel Higgins watched them go, then turned inside the shack again and barred the door behind him.

“Mr. Higgins, sir, I sure didn’t want it to come t’ this, but I reckon I need to talk to ya’.”

Abel spun around to find Enos Strate standing in his living room, aiming a shotgun at him.

“Wha…wh…how did you get in here?”

“Moonshiners’ cabins always have a back door, Mr. Higgins, or did ya’ forget I grew up in these parts?”

“What d’ ya want from me? I ain’t goin’ t’ prison, so you can jest shoot me if that’s what you’re after.”

“I’m not here after your still, I just need t’ know where I can find your son. I need t’ ask him some questions.”
“‘Bout what?”

“About some missin’ girls.”

The man looked confused. “Missin’ girls? You mean you think my Andy’s messed up with these murders been goin’ on? Andy might be guilty o’ some illegal profiteerin’, but he ain’t no murderer!”

“If I could talk to him, he could clear that right up.”

“I don’t know where he is.”

Able jumped back a foot as Enos pumped a shell into the chamber. “I’m not rightly sure I made myself clear on how important it is for me to find him.”

“I swear, I ain’t seen him fer a couple weeks or more! He spends all his time up at Josh Hooper’s.”

“Where’s that at?”

“The old Adam’s place up on North Fork.”

“I’m mighty obliged to ya’, Mr. Higgins,” said Enos, lowering the shotgun. “I hope ya’ don’t have no hard feelin’s over this. Good day to ya’.” He turned and left out the back door, down through the woods to his car. He picked up his CB.

“Sheriff, this is Enos, are you there? Over.” The radio buzzed with static. He was almost out of range and when he headed up North Fork he probably wouldn’t get any reception at all.

“Enos, this is Rosco. What’s your 20? Over.”

“I just visited Abel Higgins, but he hasn’t seen Andy in a while. You know anything about this Josh Hooper who’s up in North Fork?”

“Enos, I don’t follow the genealogy of criminals.”

“What makes you think he’s a criminal, Sheriff?”

“You dipstick! Ever’body knows that ever’body up there’s either makin’ shine, runnin’ it, or growin’ wacky weed. Over an’ out.”

“If you say so, Sheriff.” Enos rolled his eyes and put the CB away. Rosco couldn’t, wouldn’t, and didn’t try to understand the people who lived up in the hills. His father had been the Sheriff before him and his grandfather before him. The Coltranes had been after the Dukes, Strates, Davenports, McCullums, and Petersdorfs for generations. Enos was the exception to the rule.

North Fork was the next hill over, but on these roads it would still take a good half hour to get there. He didn’t know Josh Hooper and couldn’t recall any Hooper’s that had ever lived up in these parts. Maybe he was a drifter in from another county, but like as not, Rosco was probably right – if he wasn’t making shine, he was probably growing weed. Lots of the younger generation who drifted in were. Enos took off the coat he’d borrowed from Uncle Jesse and grabbed his bomber jacket with the LAPD insignia on it from the back seat instead. He checked the time. It was already 11:30 a.m., and at this rate he was getting nowhere fast. He pulled back out onto the dirt road and headed back up the mountain.

About 20 minutes later he pulled up in front of the old farmhouse that he remembered as belonging to the Adam’s family, now one Josh Hooper. He’d debated just staking the place out to see if Andy showed up, but he didn’t have much time and with his luck no one would show up until tomorrow, or not at all. A guy, looking to be in his mid 20’s, overweight and unshaven, sat in a lawn chair in front of the house, smoking a reefer. Enos grabbed his handcuffs from the glove compartment, stuck them in his pocket, and got out of the car.

“Hi there,” he said, walking up to the man who was obviously very stoned. “I’m lookin’ for Andy. That you?”

The man looked at Enos sleepily. “Naw, man, I ain’t seen Andy since last week,” he drawled.

“Are you Josh?”

“It depends on who’s lookin’…”

“I heard you an’ Andy are pretty close. Where’s he hole up when he’s not here or at his pa’s?”

“I ain’t gotta tell you nothin’,” he said, taking another toke of the weed. “You don’t look like a feller he’d wanna be talkin’ to anyway, so run on.”

Enos kicked the base of the lawn chair, spilling the man out of it onto the ground where he floundered around like a beached whale.

“Hey, man! What the…”

Enos flipped him over and cuffed his hands behind him. “You’re under arrest for possession of marijuana. Get up!” Enos hauled him to his feet and pushed him towards his car. “You can stay in jail until you feel like tellin’ me where your friend is.”

“No way! You can’t do this! I got rights…”

“So do I, Buddy Roe. If I’s you, I’d start talkin’.”

 

The door of the Sheriff’s Department slammed open, rattling the blinds on the other side, and making Cletus jump as Enos half pushed, half dragged Josh Hooper into the booking room. Rosco came out of the office to see what all the ruckus was.

“Enos, what in tarnation are ya’ bringin’ that riffraff in for?”

“He’s…uh…Get up, I can’t carry ya’!…He’s going in a cell ’till he remembers where Andy Higgins is.”

“Now, uh look, Enos…I know Boss turned a blind eye to it – God rest his little, fat, chubby soul – but ya’ can’t just lock someone up for no reason.”

“He was smokin’ dope, too.”

“Ooo…naughty, naughty,” Rosco brushed his index fingers together at the man. “Shame, shame, everybody knows your name. Cletus! Don’t just sit there like a frog on a log, help Enos take him downstairs.”

“Yes sir, Sheriff!” Cletus hopped up and grabbed the man’s other arm. Together he and Enos dragged the man, who now seemed to be asleep and was snoring loudly, down the stairs to the first holding cell and tossed him onto the bed.

“He don’t look too cooperative,” commented Cletus.

Enos shook his head. “I’m running outta ideas, Cletus. Findin’ Andy an’ his truck’s turnin’ out to be like findin’ a needle in a haystack.”

 

by: WENN9366 (EnosIsMyHero)

Chapter 7: Finding Dixie

 

Enos found Rooster sitting on his porch drinking moonshine, just like he’d remembered from visiting him with his pa’ over twenty years earlier.

“Afternoon, Mr. Sills,” he said, amiably. “I don’t know if you’d remember me, it’s been a while.”

The old man peered at Enos, who now stood at the edge of the porch. “Can’t rightly say I ‘member your name, sonny, but yer pa’ was Otis Strate. Lord a mercy, but ya’ shore did turn out lookin’ like ‘im.”

“That’s right, sir, I’m Enos,” he said shaking the man’s hand.

“He was a good man…fair.”

“Yes sir, he was.”

“Well then Enos, come on up here an’ sit a spell an’ let’s see what we can do for ya’. Can I get ya’ a sip?”

Enos took a seat in an old knotty pine chair. “Thank ya’, sir. Just a taste, though.” Enos hadn’t had a drink he reckoned in over 10 years, but home brews were a point of pride to a moonshiner and turning the old man down would have been akin to spitting in his face.

The old man poured a shot of whiskey from a green Mason jar into a short glass and handed it over. “So, young man, what’s on yer mind that you’ve come up t’ this neck o’ th’ woods? Can’t say I get vis’ters much anymore, though Amos does get down t’ chew th’ fat every once in a while.”

Enos took a sip of the shine and fought to keep a straight face. Either ol’ Rooster was loosin’ his touch or he was a piss poor moonshiner – it tasted like molten vinegar. He cleared his throat. “Well, we’re lookin’ for a truck that matched the description of one you had worked on some time back,” he said. “You had some new springs put in?”

Rooster looked puzzled. “Yeah. Yeah, I used t’ have an ol’ pickup. Sold it t’ Andy Higgins on about last summer, I reckon.”

“Andy? Is that Abel’s boy or Floyd’s?”

“He’s Abel’s.”

“Do you happen to remember th’ year of truck it was?”

“’81. Say, that boy’s not in any trouble is he?”

“I don’t rightly know anything about him, sir, I’m just tryin’ t’ track the truck down right now, make sure everything’s alright. It hit a curb down at th’ square.”

“Oh, well, ya’ know how it is w’ shiner’s kids. They’ve always got about three-fifth’s rollin’ ’round in their veins.”

Enos grinned. “Some of ’em, sir.”

“You shore do remind me o’ yer pa’, boy,” he said, laughing, “I swear he was th’ only cold sober bootlegger I ever saw.”

 

The sun was sinking, bathing the tops of the hills in glowing amber hues, as Enos left Rooster and headed back towards the Duke farm. He would just have to take a chance on someone being there – going back to Hazzard would be nearly 15 miles out of the way from Chalk Hills. Instead he drove east five miles, swinging around Stillson Canyon, until it met up with Mill Road. He hung a left and another three miles had him at the Dukes’ front porch. Uncle Jesse’s truck was parked by the barn. He hopped out and walked up to the screen porch. A memory of Daisy, bounding through that door, smiling at him while her hair caught the breeze flashed through his mind. He shook his head.

“Uncle Jesse?” he called, opening the door.

“Come on in, Enos.” Enos stepped into the kitchen where Jesse was stirring something in a saucepan on the stove. “Did ya’ find anything out about th’ truck?”

“Yes sir, I went t’ see Rooster Sills, but he sold the thing come last summer. You know Abel Higgin’s boy, Andy?”

“Not rightly enough. Seen him a couple months ago around town. Why, is that who ol’ Rooster sold it to?”

“Yes sir. Abel still settin’ up by Dry Creek?”

Jesse thought for a minute. “I ‘spect so, though he got caught for possessin’ shine last year so his teeth are gonna be on edge about talkin’ to the law ’bout anything.”

“That’s why I stopped by, Uncle Jesse,” he said. “I was wonderin’ if you’d have a coat I could borrow that didn’t say LAPD. I’ll need th’ 12 gauge an’ shells I left here, too, if they’re handy.”

Jesse set the pot down on the stove and turned to look at Enos. “Now, just hold on just a minute there. It’s nearly 5:30. This time of year, it’ll be full dark in an hour. You ain’t going out there now.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Uncle Jesse, but I reckon I am.”

“Now, Enos, I know you’re wantin’ to get to th’ bottom of this, but it ain’t gonna do Daisy any good you going out into them hills after dark. If ya’ do find Abel, you’re gonna get yerself shot.”

Enos turned away from Jesse, looking instead out the window to the hills in the distance. “I’ve been shot at before,” he said, quietly.

There in that moment – in the haunted look in in the younger man’s eyes, Jesse realized just how much Enos had changed. The naïve innocence had been scrubbed away, leaving a man who he reckoned had witnessed more hatred, violence, and bloodshed on the streets of Los Angeles than they could ever fathom in Hazzard County. He rested his weathered hand on Enos’s shoulder.

“There’s no more you can do today, son. I know yer in charge of th’ search, an’ I can’t stop ya’, but I’d appreciate it if ya’ didn’t go off an’ get yourself killed. Right now, you’re the only one who knows what yer doin’ an’ we need ya – Daisy needs ya’- to stay safe.”

Enos turned back and sighed, but anything he might of said was cut short by the voice coming in over the CB radio.

“Lost Sheep to Shepard, Lost Sheep to Shepard, you got your ears on? Come back.”

Uncle Jesse went around the table and picked it up. “This is Shepard. What’s wrong, boys?”

“Uncle Jesse,” said Bo, “is Enos there with ya’?”

“Yeah, he’s right here, what’s goin’ on?”

“Uh, well…we found Dixie..”

“Ask him where,” said Enos.

“Okay, Bo, where is she?”

“Th’ woods just past Stillson Canyon, where Mill Road Splits off to Snake Trail Lane.”

Enos was out the door before Bo finished talking.

“We’ll be there in just a minute so you boys just stay there. Enos just left an’ I’m right behind him. I’m gone.”

Enos pulled off where he saw the General Lee and Bo and Luke waiting beside it. He’d just driven through here not half an hour before on his way from Chalk Hills and hadn’t noticed a thing, of course he’d also been going about fifty miles an hour – a speed that wasn’t conducive to noticing much other than the road in front of you.

“You were right, Enos,” Luke called as Enos got out. “It looks like someone ran her off th’ road.”

There was a small ravine here between where the roads split, not visible from the road itself. “I just drove past here not a half hour ago.” Enos pointed down into the woods. “Down there?”

“Yeah. Took us forever ’till we saw the tire tracks in the mud on the side.”

“You’ve got good eyes, Bo,” he said. “We don’t have too much more light as it is though. Have you guys been down there?”

“No, we followed the tire tracks ’till we seen her, but we thought it best to wait for you before we went messin’ with it.”

“I’m much obliged, Luke.”

Instead of following the tire tracks directly down to the Jeep, Enos walked the other way, following the tracks back up onto the road until he came to the point where they’d first swerved. Beside them was a set of tracks still visible in the muddy ruts on the edge of the road, made by a deeply lugged truck tire. These he followed back to the road where they were lost in the tracks of the other vehicles. He walked back to the first tracks he’d found.

“Y’all come here,” he called. Bo and Luke ran down the road to where Enos was crouched down. “We’re definitely lookin’ for a truck. See these tracks here? The tires are too big for a car. They’re probably fairly new too, you can see the lug marks real well.”

Luke bent down and examined them. “Huh, well that fits with the truck we saw on the tape of the bank.” He looked back at Enos. “You find anything out about it?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you ’bout it later, though. The sunlight’s not gonna last much longer an’ I need to check out Dixie.”

Enos went back to the ravine, noting that whoever had run Daisy off had to be fairly familiar with the roads here to know exactly where that ravine was since the side of the road was grown up with briars and sagebrush, unless it had just been a lucky shot. Had it been summer, they might not have found it this quickly. As it was, a trail was just visible. He followed it through the undergrowth until the bank sloped suddenly down.

At the bottom of the small gully rested the Jeep, its wheels sunk deep into the mud. There was nothing inside, so he turned back to the trail the vehicle had plowed. Most of the ground was covered with dead leaves, but behind the jeep, in the mud, was a partial footprint of a man’s heavy soled work boot. Too much was missing for him to guess the size. Another footprint, this one of a smaller woman’s sized boot was visible beside the door of the Jeep. The smaller tracks, instead of going back up to the road, led further into the woods. Enos followed them. Along the way were more partial prints, mainly from the front part of the treads of both sets – Daisy had been running, and someone had been running after her.

About 500 feet into the woods, the prints stopped, ending in a wide spot of crushed and mangled vegetation. Five grooves, about six inches long, tore into the mud at the far end. Enos knelt down and placed his own fingertips into the grooves, slowly tracing the marks.

He left and walked slowly back up to the road to where they were waiting with Uncle Jesse. “Find anything that’ll help?”

“A couple of footprints. You mind if I borrow your radio?”

“Heck no, go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Enos leaned into the General Lee and grabbed the mic. “Sheriff, this is Enos, do you read me, over…” He waited, but there was no answer. “Sheriff, are you there?”

“…This is Sheriff Ros- -co P. Coltrane…Of course I’m here, Enos, where th’ heck else am I gonna be? I ain’t got no supper waitin’ at home an’ Flash hadn’t figured out how t’ cook yet. Where in th’ world are you? I ain’t seen hide nor hair of you since this mornin’.”

“Sheriff, you remember how t’ work a real crime scene?”

The bravado disappeared from Rosco’s voice. “…a…a what?” he answered quietly. “Y…you…you didn’t find…not, not Daisy did you?”

“No, Sheriff, we found her jeep. There’s some tracks around it, though, and maybe some prints. If you could come out when it’s light and take pictures of everything, I’d be mighty obliged.”

“Dang it, Enos, you done just about give me a coronary! Yeah, I can do that. Where’s it at?”

“The little ravine off the split between Mill Road and Snake Trail. If you follow the deer trail on past the jeep, you’ll see the most of th’ footprints.”

“You can count on me. Me an’ Flash’ll take care of it first thing.”

“Thanks Sheriff, over an’ out.”

“So, wait a minute, Enos,” said Bo. “We’ve gotta leave Dixie here?”

“Just until tomorrow mornin’ so Rosco can take the pictures. Sorry, but if I don’t do things by th’ book, won’t nothin’ hold up in court.”

“Yeah, I s’pose you’re right.”

“Well, I’m gonna head on back,” said Uncle Jesse. “Enos, that shotgun of yers is gonna need cleaned. It’s been in th’ closet fer ten years.”

Enos took one more look behind him into the woods before heading to his own car. “I’m right behind you, Uncle Jesse.”

 

About an hour later Bo and Luke returned to find Enos at the kitchen table, cleaning the 12 gauge he’d left there years ago.

“Plannin’ on doin’ some huntin’?” asked Bo.

“That’s not real funny,” said Enos, not looking up.

Bo threw Luke a look who shrugged his shoulders. “So what’d ya’ find out from Mr. Sills?” Luke asked.

“He sold the truck last year t’ Andy Higgins.”

“Andy Higgins? The guy they caught lookin’ in windows of th’ girls’ dorm down at the Capitol City Community College?

Enos looked up at Luke. “Where’d ya’ hear that?”

“Susie McCullum was talkin’ about it standin’ in line at the post office couple months back. I don’t reckon anything came of it.”

“You don’t know where I can find him, do ya’?”

Luke shook his head. “Not anymore than up at his pa’s.” He took a second look at the shotgun Enos was now piecing back together. “You’d be better off if we came with ya’. Three shotguns are are might better than one.”

“I’m much obliged, but no. I gotta go alone.”

“Now come on, Enos,” complained Bo, “you can’t just leave us outta th’ loop. Daisy’s our cousin, ya’ know.”

“I know that, Bo, but Abel Higgins is more libel t’ shoot you than me. ‘Sides, everybody knows Cletus and Rosco ain’t but two shakes behind you most of th’ time. Nobody’s gonna talk to me if they see th’ General Lee around. I need you fella’s to help me with somethin’ else anyways.”

“Sure Enos,” said Luke, “what do ya’ need us to do?”

“I need ya’ to go down and have Rosco look up th’ county records on that truck that Rooster had. He said it was an ’81, but he’ll need the VIN number and license and tell him to put an APB out on it. I doubt it’ll do much good if he’s up in th’ hills, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Sure thing, Enos’.”

“Thanks y’all. Listen, part of the reason I had Cooter pull those strings is ’cause me an’ my pa’ visited every moonshiner in them hills before he passed on. Hopefully some’ll have long memories…or bad aim…”

“You just be careful,” said Bo. “Oh, hey I almost forgot. Uncle Jesse’s got a spare CB. You want us t’ hook it up in your car for ya’?”

“Thanks’, Bo, I sure would appreciate it. I feel like I’m 500 miles away without one.”

Bo clapped him on the back. “We’ll get it in there right now.”

 

Bo and Luke left the house and headed for the shed where the spare radio sat gathering dust in a dog-eared box on a high shelf. Luke hopped on a crate and brought it down.

“It don’t look too bad,” he said, opening the box. “I reckon it’ll still work.”

“It better,” said Bo, “I feel like a got a bag over my head not knowing what’s goin’ on with Enos.”

“I know what ya’ mean. Hey, grab a screwdriver on your way out.”

Bo grabbed a screwdriver out of Uncle Jesse’s tool box and walked over to Enos’s car where Luke was already inside.

“Hand me those mounting brackets and th’ screwdriver.”

Bo passed them to his cousin and rested his arms on the roof of he car. “He sure has changed, hasn’t he, Cuz?”

“Hand me th’ radio. Who, Enos?”

“Yeah. I mean, shoot, it don’t seem but yesterday he was trippin’ over his own feet an’ lettin’ ol’ Rosco kick him around.”

“I gotta feelin’ he’s seen a lot more of the wrong side of the tracks out in LA than we could ever imagine here in Hazzard. It’s bound t’ change a fella. Here, take this.” Luke handed Bo the screwdriver as he climbed out from the floorboard of the car. “T’ tell you the truth, I almost wished we hadn’t been so eager to talk Daisy outta marryin’ him that day at th’ Boars Nest.”

Bo looked at him as though he’d sprouted an extra head. “Are you serious? She didn’t love him, Luke. She was just gonna marry him t’ spare his feelin’s.”

“Yeah, well, I reckon she didn’t love L.D. none either when she married him. ‘Sides, I don’t know if I quite believe that anymore.”

“What?” Bo laughed. “You can’t tell me you seriously believe that Daisy was sweet on Enos.”

Luke looked at him thoughtfully. “She’s…different when he’s not around. The first time he left Hazzard, I swear she looked lost half o’ the time, like somebody trying to remember something they’ve forgotten. Then she practically threw herself at every eligible bachelor that came through the county.”

“That’s just bein’ a Duke.”

Luke shook his head. “I don’t know. Everybody deals with things differently. Then when he came back, everything suddenly went back to normal. Honestly, I wouldn’t have believed it myself until she started walking around with that same look on her face three years ago.”

“I think you’re goin’ batty, Luke. So she missed him. That’s a pretty far cry from lovin’ him, though.”

“Yeah, I reckon she’d say that, too.”

 

Enos couldn’t have slept a wink even if he’d tried – so he wasn’t trying. He lay on the bed in the guest room, staring at the darkened ceiling until he finally heard the soft snores coming from the room across the hall. When he was sure everyone was asleep he got up and put on the old denim coat that he’d borrowed from Uncle Jesse. He tried to walk as close to the wall as he could to keep the boards in the floor from creaking. He didn’t stop in the kitchen but unhooked the latch on the door and made his way out through the screen porch out into the farmyard.

There was a full moon – a ‘shine’ moon his pa’ used to call it. He didn’t reckon he’d ever spent a full moon night at home as a kid. It was prime runnin’ time, and his pa’ was kind enough to drop him at the Duke farm instead of leaving him to the mercies of his ma’.

He walked over to his car and sat down on the hood. Staring out into the darkness, he thought about all he’d done and seen. His life on the outside was one of ‘small town boy made good in the big city’, but on the inside a standoff raged everyday, not so different from the one’s he’d faced with the SWAT team on the streets of LA.

On one side was Hazzard – the world and life he loved. The nights filled with lightening bugs and the howls of coyotes instead of street lights and sirens. People who waved when you drove past them or said ‘Hi’ if you saw them at the store instead of kids tryin’ to sell dope to other kids or hookers on the corners who he swore got younger and younger every year.

But there was another side to Hazzard, a side that tore at his heart and made the alienation of California seem bearable. He’d give just about anything to go back to the world he lived in five years ago – a world in which he had never seriously dreamed that Daisy Duke would ever return his affections. Therein was the crux of the matter, the source of his never-ending heartache. In all his years of loving her, he had never allowed himself to believe she could ever really be his – until the day she’d almost married him. For a few months, his dreams seemed to be coming true, only to be shattered suddenly, without a word on her part. So he’d run away to California, where he’d volunteered for the beats and later the cases that nobody wanted to take. The ones where you made sure you said your prayers in the morning because you might not be around to say them at night – only to survive to remember another day.

For the rest of his life, he would never forget what it felt like to believe that she loved him. And now, after all the years of running away, he’d do anything to see her safe – just one last time.

by: WENN9366 (EnosIsMyHero)

Chapter 6: Choctaw County

 

A/N: WARNING: This chapter is rated “T” for slightly graphic descriptions of crime scene photos.
Also, I’m using the Map of Hazzard County that you can see in several episodes. I have a link to it on my profile page (if it’s not there, check back in an hour or so). If anyone has an actual copy of this, could they verify that the big lake in Choctaw County is Choocha-Coobee? That’s what it looks like, but it’s hard to make out. Also, they look like they just stuck things on the map randomly, so I’ve taken the liberty of adding things where I think they should go. All my additions are in RED. Probably many more additions to come.

 

 

Choctaw County was about half the size of Hazzard County. It was primarily a tourist trap for fishing on Lake Choocha-Coobee as well as the smaller Lake Chickamahony which lay southwest of Seminole Canyon and whose southern edge bordered Hazzard County . Choctaw was the county seat and, being so small, the local doctor also served as the county’s coroner.

Enos pulled his car up to the Sheriff’s office in the little village. There wasn’t much going on here, Choctaw had been a booming town in the early 20’s as mining took hold, but by the mid 30’s the ore supply had dried up and with the depression, people who had made the town their home moved west looking for work. The town now boasted nothing more than a Post Office, Sheriff’s department, and a gas station connected to a small mom and pop General Store. Dilapidated buildings, vacant for decades, ringed the small town square.

He pulled open the door to the Sheriff’s department and went in. A woman with coke-bottle glasses sat behind the desk, working on a crossword puzzle and chewing gum. She looked up as he entered and gave him a warm smile.

“Well, now, you must be Enos Strate ’cause we shore ain’t ‘spectin’ nobody else comin’ by today.”

“Yes ma’am. That’d be me.” He looked around. “Is Dewey in?”

“He’s in his office. You’re in luck, Doc Pritchard’s with him.” She pointed to a side door labeled simply “office”.

“Thank ya’, kindly.” He crossed through the waiting area and knocked softly on the door before opening it.

“…Speak of th’ devil! Hey Enos,” said Dewey, “I’s just tellin’ Doc here about th’ time you done gave ol’ Rosco th’ shuck-n’-jive back when we’s in th’ Academy.”

“Oh, no Dewey, that’s an awful story,” complained Enos, “he don’t wanna hear ’bout that.”

“Hi Enos,” the man said, standing and shaking Enos’s hand, “I’m Doc Pritchard, but you can just call me “Doc”.”

“Pleased t’ meet ya’, sir. Don’t mind what he tells ya’, they put me up to it.”

“Only ’cause you were th’ one drivin’! So anyways,” the Sheriff continued, “we were headin’ back to Atlanta from visitin’ my folks – me, Enos, and Jeb Waller from up in Seminole. We’d just crossed over into Hazzard County, down towards Pine Hollow Road when we pass this girl…”

“Amy McCullum.”

“…Yeah, havin’ car trouble. Anyways she was pretty easy on th’ eyes so we stopped t’ see if we could help. None of us knew much ’bout fixin’ cars, though,” he laughed. “She was all worried ’cause she had a couple bottles of shine that her pa’ needed to get t’ Caleb Tillson before th’ end of the day. It was only a few miles down the road so, being the kind boys that we were, we told her we’d deliver ’em for her. Of course we hadn’t so much as turned the corner that ol’ Rosco started out after us. He chased up around the hills for a while until Enos here led him right through a revenuer trap. That squad car’s probably still moulderin’ at the bottom o’ Sticky Swamp. Say, Enos, did ya’ ever tell him it was you drivin’?”

“Heck no!”

“Anyways, I suppose we should get down to th’ business y’all came for, like as not. Enos, I don’t know what all you know, but I suppose you’ll want t’ see th’ reports and pictures.”

“Yeah, I’ll need t’ go over ’em.”

Sheriff Wilkes passed him two folders, labeled with the names of each of the two victims found in Choctaw County; Annabelle Murphy and Doris Hicks. He opened up the first one, giving a cursory glance at the autopsy report, then took out the photos, studying them one by one.

Crime scene photos were a standard part of procedure, and Enos had seen more than his fair share working in LA. After a few months, you became desensitized to them – a necessary defense mechanism of that line of work. This was the first time he’d worked a case involving someone he knew, though – not only that, but someone he was as close to as Daisy. His mind kept stumbling over the fact that the hands who had taken the life of these girls now held Daisy’s in them.

Dewey stood up and motioned to the doctor. “Doc, why don’t ya’ join me for a cup o’ coffee. Enos, you want me t’ bring you some coffee?”

“No thanks, Dewey.”

Dewey led Doc Pritchard out of the office, closing the door gently behind them. Enos stopped and lay the pictures down on the desk and rubbed his eyes.

“She’s not Daisy…,” he whispered to himself, “but if you don’t get on with figurin’ somethin’ out, it’s gonna be Daisy.”

He took a deep breath and picked the pictures back up. The girls were clothed, and though found by the water they had obviously been dumped there. In addition to being badly beaten, both women had a single ligature mark around their throats where they’d been strangled by what looked to be a heavy gauge coated wire or something else smooth and about a quarter inch diameter. There were no ligature marks on their wrists or their ankles (telling him they’d probably been kept somewhere their killer wasn’t worried about them escaping from.)

The picture that captured his attention the most was the closeup of Annabelle’s hands, though. Her fingernails had obviously once been neatly manicured, but the nails had all been broken off, a few ground past the quick until they had bled. He flipped the folder of Doris Hicks back open and sifted through the pictures until he found the closeup of her hands. Her nails had been short, but the ends of her fingers were cut and bloody, just like Annabelle’s.

Enos looked up as Dewey and Doc came back in. “Doc, the girl from Sweetwater, I don’t suppose you’ve seen th’ photos have ya’?”

The man shook his head. “That I haven’t, though she was found submerged so there likely isn’t much t’ see.”

“What about these girls’ clothes, were they wet or dry?” he asked, tapping the picture in front of him. “I know Doris was outside for a few days, but Dewey said Annabelle hadn’t been there long.”

“Not long at all, in fact I’d say she hadn’t been there for more than an hour at most.”

“Possum on a gum-bush! Did anybody see anything?”

“Naw, a guy went out to check some traps in the area and got turned around and lost, otherwise nobody would’ve found her for weeks,” He looked at Enos thoughtfully. “Funny you should ask about their clothes. Annabelle’s jeans were soaked, like she’d been sitting in water, but her shirt was dry for the most part.”

Enos frowned. “That fits th’ bill with what I was thinkin’.”

“What’s that?” asked Doc.

“I think he keeps ’em in an old well. It would explain why he didn’t bother t’ bind their hands or feet, an’ why their fingers were torn up. It might not be a well exactly, but somethin’ like that anyhow.”

“Silo?”

Enos shook his head. “The girls’ fingers, they were all cut up like they’d tried to climb up or out of somethin’. I can’t imagine anyone trying to climb out of a silo unless it was an ol’ brick one, but even then they wouldn’t be settin’ in water.”

“Well, that’s bad enough,” said Dewey, “but it gets worse. The bottom’s ‘sposed to drop outta the temperature come Thursday night. They say we’re gonna get th’ worst ice storm we’ve had in fifty years. If she’s outside in a well, wet and cold, she ain’t gonna make it through th’ week.”

Enos shot up out of the chair. “Listen y’all, I’ve gotta get movin’ if I’m gonna find her before then. I’ll catch up to ya’ later, Dewey. Nice t’ meet ya’, Doc.” He practically sprinted from the office, thanked the secretary as he passed her, and bolted out the front door and down the steps to his car. Today was Tuesday – he only had until the day after tomorrow.

Back in the Sheriff’s office, Doc Pritchard turned to Sheriff Wilkes. “Somethin’ sure lit a fire under that boy’s rear end.”

Dewey watched from the window as Enos drove off like a bat out of Hell. “You know the gal that’s missin’?”

“Daisy Duke?”

“Enos grew up with her – shoot, her family practically adopted him. They were engaged a couple years back.”

“Geez Louise! No wonder he’s antsy.”

“Aw, that’s just Enos. It’s when he starts talkin’ all serious like you’ve got t’ worry ’bout him.”

“He sounded pretty serious t’ me.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m worried.”

 

Enos took the shorter way around the mountains and back into Hazzard by highway, gunning the Javelin’s 401 for all she was worth. Coming around the town square, he saw Bo and Luke outside the garage that used to belong to Cooter, now Jake. He slid across the road in a controlled skid and came to a stop perfectly parallel parked in front of the garage. It was a feat worthy of the General Lee, and if Enos hadn’t been so worried, he might have been pretty pleased with himself. He climbed out of the car and went around to where Luke and Bo stood.

“I sure am glad you’re not chasin’ us around anymore,” said Bo. “Where’d ya’ learn t’ drive like that?”

Enos, who had too much on his mind to have paid attention to his driving, looked back at his car, surprised. “Oh,” he laughed nervously, “I guess that was pretty good, huh? I took a course in defensive drivin’ at the LAPD. Listen fellas, we’ve got t’ get busy on this lead. Do ya’ know if Uncle Jesse found out anything on th’ truck?”

“Yeah, he filled us in an’ Rosco had Cletus take us over to th’ bank to watch it ourselves,” said Luke. “Jake said he hadn’t done any on a truck like that that he remembers, but we found someone who did.”

“Who’s that, Luke?”

Luke motioned Enos to follow him and Bo into the shop. A man was bent over the engine of a car, but his face was obscured by the hood. Luke nudged the man’s shoulder. “Hey, someone’s here t’ see ya’.”

Out from under the hood came Cooter Davenport himself, looking for everything like he’d never left Hazzard for Washington D.C. “Hey y’all…Enos!” He shook his hand. “It’s good t’ see ya’, even though I wished it were for somethin’ happier.”

“Hey Cooter, I owe ya’ one, an’ I won’t forget it neither.”

“I just bet you won’t, Buddy Roe, if’n we can find out who we’s lookin’ fer. Uncle Jesse said ya’ had a lead on a white truck?”

“Well, now, light colored. Th’ tape was black an’ white, so it could be anything from beige t’ white or light blue possibly. You put in a suspension?”

“Yeah, I did. Couple years back for a feller over in Chalk Hills. Ol’ Rooster Sills, you know him?”

“Yeah, I’ve met him once or twice back with my pa’.”

“You still got that tape? If I take a look at it I could probably tell you if it’s th’ same one or not.”

“Sure do, let’s go.”

Cooter watched the tape and confirmed that it was the same one he’d installed the custom springs on. He didn’t remember exactly what year of Chevy it was, only that it was an early 80’s model and off-white (or dirty, he added).

“Well, I’m gonna ride on over t’ Chalk Hills and check with Rooster about that truck,” said Enos. “He’s getting’ up there in years. Can’t imagine he’d have anythin’ to do with somethin’ like this, but maybe he’s got family around that use it.”

“Alright, well, me an’ Bo are gonna head back to th’ farm.”

Enos caught his arm and stopped him. “Luke…”

“Yeah?”

“Dixie has t’ be somewhere. Check th’ ditches on th’ way home.”

The man looked at him gravely before nodding his head. “Will do, Enos, will do.”

by: WENN9366 (EnosIsMyHero)

Chapter 5: The First Clue

 

A soft knock on the door woke Enos the next morning.

“Enos?” Luke called. “You awake?”

Enos looked up, confused at why the sun was so high in the sky before realizing that his brain was still set for Pacific time.

“I’m up, sorry Luke!”

“No problem, Uncle Jesse’s getting’ some breakfast on if you’d like some.”

“I’ll be right there.”

He threw on his clothes from the day before. He needed to visit his ma’ sometime that day, not only because it was the proper thing to do, but he’d need some different clothes. He opened the door and went to the kitchen where the smell of frying ham and fresh coffee made him remember that he hadn’t eaten anything since a package of pretzels on the plane.

“Hey, Enos.”

“Mornin’ Bo, listen I’m sorry about sleepin’ so late y’all,” he apologized. “My brain still thinks it’s in California.”

“That’s alright,” said Jesse, “you’re not that late, it’s only 7:45.” He turned from the stove with a skillet of fried ham and eggs and set it carefully on the iron trivet in the center of the table. “Luke, grab some plates, will ya’. Enos, you set down there an eat ya’ some breakfast and tell us what we need t’ be doin’ today.”

Enos sat down gratefully and waited until everyone else had taken a seat and Uncle Jesse had blessed the food before speaking.

“Well, th’ first thing we need to do is look at the film from th’ bank. I need to check in with Rosco anyhow.” He frowned. “Th’ Sheriff’s not gonna like me bein’ in charge of him, I reckon.”

“Pish-posh,” said Jesse, “don’t you go lettin’ Rosco get to ya’. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so worried as I did yesterday. You know what yer doin’ better’n he does.” He pointed at Enos. “You just stand your ground.”

“I aim to, Uncle Jesse.” Jesse’s quick eyes didn’t miss the flash in Enos’s nor the slight downward quirk of his mouth that signaled just how passionately he felt about that. “I need to go up to Choctaw county, too, so I’ll check in on my ma’ on the way.”

“What d’ya need up in Choctaw?” asked Luke. “Anything we can do instead? Save ya’ some time?”

Enos looked down and fidgeted with his napkin. “I’d better go there by myself. I need t’ visit the county coroner,” he said, quietly.

That thought effectively killed all conversation for the rest of the meal as the realization of what could happen to Daisy was brought to the forefront of everyone’s mind.

 

“You didn’t drive all th’ way from California in that, did ya’?” Luke examined the car Enos had bought the day before with a critical eye.

“No, I bought it off a guy at Atlanta airport. I was gonna rent one, but I thought this’d blend in better. ‘Sides, it was a good price.”

“Be a nice car with a little TLC.” Luke turned to the farmhouse where Uncle Jesse and Bo were coming out. “Uncle Jesse, why don’t you go on an’ ride into town with Enos, Bo and I’ve got to stop by Jake’s and pick up a new fan belt before the General’s stops just slippin’ and starts breakin’.”

“That’s fine with me,” said Jesse. “I’m gettin’ too old to get in an’ out of those blamed windows anyhow.”

 

Enos’s hands were sweaty on the wheel as they made their way down Mill Road towards the town of Hazzard. So much had happened since he’d last driven down these dusty roads.

“Takes ya’ back, don’t it?” asked Jesse.

“It sure does,” was all he could find to say.

He pulled up in front of the courthouse, behind Hazzard #1 and #2, mindful that there were no hydrants close by.

“Don’t fidget in front of Rosco,” he told himself as he and Jesse climbed the stairs to the double doors and let themselves in.

Cletus was behind the desk, doing who knows what. He nearly fell out of his seat when he saw Enos. “Buzzards on a buzz-saw!” proclaimed the deputy. “Enos? Is that you?”

“It sure is, hey Cletus, how are ya’?”

The man looked around as though conferring a great secret he didn’t want anyone to hear. “Tell you the truth, we’ll all be doin’ a lot better once that detective gets here. Rosco made me stay here all night just in case he came early.”

“Now Cletus,” said Jesse, “what in tarnation would a feller be coming to th’ courthouse in th’ middle of th’ night for?”

“Well I don’t know. I don’t make the rules, I just listen t’ Rosco make ’em up.”

“Is he around?” asked Enos. There was only so much of Cletus he could take before he felt like banging his head against the wall.

“Oh! Yeah, he’s in th’ office with Atlanta tryin’ to figure out when th’ detective’s gonna be here.”

Enos opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by Rosco himself storming out of his office.

“I don’t understand what those corn-brains ‘re a talkin’ about in Atlanta. Now they’re tellin’ me that some other guy’s been assigned to th’ case. They’re about as helpful as a barrel of monkeys on snuff!” He turned from Cletus and saw Enos and Jesse. “Wha…geet…ooo…”

“Hi there, Sheriff,” Enos said, solemnly.

The sheriff walked over to where he stood. “Good Lord, Enos, what in th’ blue blazes are you doin’ here?” He looked Enos over. “Ya’ don’t look much differn’t. Don’t they letcha outta yer cage in California? I thought ever’body over there was all tan and such.”

“I don’t reckon I have much time for sun bathin’, Sheriff. You’re lookin’ a little grayer than I remembered.” Enos laughed nervously. He caught himself fidgeting with his hands and crossed his arms in front of him.

Rosco smoothed his hair down. “Well, you know what th’ Good Book says, Enos. Gray hair’s a sign o’ wisdom.” He glared at Jesse, who stifled a snort, then turned back to Enos. “Well… So?”

“So what, Sheriff?”

“So what’re you doin’ here in Hazzard, ya’ dipstick? Don’t tell me you’ve decided t’ pick up an’ move back. I ain’t got a job for ya’, Enos. Cletus there’s enough trouble.”

“I’m not movin’ back to Hazzard, and I ain’t here for a job. I’ve already got one.”

“Oh yeah? Well, what’s that?”

Enos pulled his detective’s badge from his pocket and held it up for Rosco to see.

“What’s that – a Junior Ace detective badge from your Fruity Flakes? Kew, Kew!”

Jesse’d had enough. “Dang blast it, Rosco, Enos is th’ detective you’ve been waiting for!”

“Enos? Don’t be silly, why Enos couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag with no bottom.”

“Rosco…”

“It’s okay, Uncle Jesse,” said Enos. “Sheriff, I’d appreciate your help, but if you don’t want to I understand. I’ll just get Cletus to help me.”

“Cletus! You’ll do no such thing, Cletus works for me, not you, ya’ meadowmuff’n. You can’t just tell him what to do!”

“Well, I’m sorry to have to say it, Sheriff, but that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been hired temporarily by th’ Georgia State Patrol and as detective, I outrank you,” Enos continued, “but I’d be mighty obliged to ya’ for your help if’n ya ‘could spare it.”

Rosco wasn’t accustomed to anyone genuinely wanting his help. “Uh…uh…well, I.. Well, I guess I don’t have much else t’ do, Enos. I sure would love t’ cuff and stuff this guy before that rookie up’n Choctaw does.”

“We’ve gotta find ‘im first, Sheriff.”

“Well then what’re you meatheads standin’ around for?”

 

Enos, Rosco, and Jesse gathered around the small closed circuit television in the bank office, watching the film of the morning three days before. Daisy had parked her Jeep, Dixie, in front, but she got in and drove off alone.

“Well, I guess that doesn’t help us much,” said Jesse.

“At least we know someone wasn’t in the Jeep with her there. That means she either had to pick him up on the way home or someone had to run her off the road.” Enos replayed the tape again, but let it play past the frames that showed Daisy driving away. Six seconds later a truck streaked past the bank so fast it nearly hit the curb. “Uncle Jesse, who’s truck is this here?” He rewound the tape and paused it as a light colored, early 80’s model Chevy truck drove past the camera. The driver wasn’t visible on the tape.

“Well, let me see here… I don’t rightly know, Enos. There’s about two dozen or so that look like that in th’ county.”

Enos stared at the frame, tapping his pen absently on the desk. “Sheriff, could you do me a favor while I go on up to Choctaw County?”

“What? What’s that?”

“Could you go an’ ask…um…Jake if he’s installed any custom suspensions on trucks matchin’ that description?”

“An’ just why would he have done that?”

Enos tapped on the screen in front of and behind the rear tires where the heavy duty leaf springs were partially visible. “This here, Sheriff. This truck’s either been used in haulin’ shine or somebody really likes t’smooth out th’ bumps ’cause ain’t no way this truck came like that.”

“He’s right, Rosco,” said Jesse, looking at the truck. “That’s the same kind of suspension I had put on my truck back when I’s running shine. Ya’ gotta baby them bottles up in th’ hills unless ya’ want to spill all yer money.”

“You two would know a thing about shine running, now wouldn’t ya’? Alright fine then, I’ll just go an’ have a little talk with Jake this afternoon.”

“Thanks, Sheriff. Uncle Jesse, if ya’ don’t mind I’m going to head on up towards my ma’s place and then Choctaw. I don’t have a CB in my car, but I should be back this afternoon an’ I’ll stop by here an’ get in touch.”

“Sounds good, Enos. Me an’ Rosco’ll go see Jake, and I’ll meet up with Bo and Luke. I reckon it wouldn’t happen in a month o’ Sundays, but tell yer ma’ she’s welcome t’ come down anytime.”

“I sure appreciate it, Uncle Jesse. I’ll tell her.”

Enos left the bank and hopped back in his car. The quickest route to Choctaw would be down Highway 20 into Colonial City, skirting the mountains, and coming in through western Choctaw. Unfortunately his mom lived in the foothills south of Runner’s Ridge and that meant taking the long way. He turned back down Mill Road for eight miles before taking an obscure trail to the left, leading up into moonshiner territory.

He was grateful that it had been a mild winter so far. The rains that normally pelted Georgia this time of the year could be massive and there had been plenty of times growing up that he’d been stuck up here with no way back into town when the road washed out. The road was dry now, though, the temperature hovering in the high 40’s.

Halfway up the mountain he turned off again and drove through an old washout and down a road that was too old and too small to even have a name anymore. At the end was a metal cow-gate, flanked on both sides by an old, rusty barbed-wire fence. He stopped the car and got out. The gate was held in place by a chain, wrapped around and looped over a nail on the other side of the post next to it. He unhooked the chain and walked the gate back until he could drive the car through.

Here in the middle of the wilderness of Western Hazzard county sat a quaint farmhouse, well-kept, surrounded by what in summer was a neatly mown lawn. His ma’ hired one of ol’ Amos Petersdorf’s grandsons to keep it up and to bring her groceries and supplies, even though she was well and capable enough to do it herself. A rusty Ford pickup sat outside the house, but it only got used for church services and funerals.

Agnes Strate was only 57, but she’d been trying to get old for as long as Enos could remember and stubborn as a mule to boot. He’d insisted on having electricity run up to the house in 1980 even though she’d gone on and on about how she’d lived her whole life without it and she wasn’t “payin’ that Jimmy Carter for his ‘lectricity”. In the end she finally gave up, though one would’ve thought that Enos was condemning her to life in prison instead of lights and television the way she told the story.

He parked his car beside her truck and walked slowly up to the front porch. As always, the butterflies in his stomach started before he even set foot on the first step. So many times he’d come home from school or Police Academy, not to the welcoming arms that he’d discovered most mother’s had for their sons, but the volley of complaints and criticisms that he swore she sat around on rainy days thinking up just for him. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“Ma’, it’s me, Enos. Can I come in?” It was always safer to announce oneself when visiting up in these parts, and his mother was no exception. She’d been up here too long to change and, even though they hadn’t had a still since his pa’ died, she expected the revenuers with every knock on the door.

A flurry of coughing came from inside and a raspy voice called, “Enos? What in tarnation…come in!”

He opened the door to find his mother in the easy chair watching television.

“Hey ma’, I was in town for a little while and I though I’d drop…”

“Land Sakes, boy, shut th’ door behind ya’!”

“Yes’m” Enos turned and shut the door tightly. “How’re ya’ doin?” He crossed the room and planted a kiss on her forehead.

She took a toke on the cigarette she was smoking before looking up at him. “Well, my back ails me, but there’s nothin’ t’ be done about it. This blamed chair ya’ got me has the awfullest lumps.”

“Here, set up, let me fix your cushions,” he offered. He pulled them up around her as she leaned forward. “There now, how’s that?”

“It’ll have t’ do,” she coughed.

“Ma, you really shouldn’ be smokin’ them things. It’s no good for ya’, you know. Doc Appleby says you’d be as fit as a fiddle if you’d give ’em up.”

“That quack’s been yankin’ my chain fer thirty years. He don’t know nothin’ about me.”

Enos gave up on that track. He’d said it only because it needed to be said. “Can I get ya’ somethin’, ma’? Here, let me fill up your glass.”

“Fine. Rinse it out first, though.”

“Yes ma’am.” He went into the small kitchen and rinsed the glass out in the sink before filling it with fresh water. His eye caught a letter sitting on the counter – registered mail from a law firm in Capitol City. He picked it up. It had already been opened so he removed the letter inside and read it.

Now, it took a lot to upset Enos Strate, but his mom hovered about three-quarters of the way to the limit of his patience on the best of days. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. The letter was concerning his mother’s house and property. She’d defaulted on the loan for the mortgage and it was set to be auctioned off in three weeks. He brought the water back to his mother, setting it gently beside her.

“Ma’, why haven’t you been payin’ th’ mortgage?”

She didn’t answer, just took a sip of the water. “Enos, this water ain’t cold.”

“Dang it, Ma!” He waved the letter in front of her. “They’re about t’ sell th’ house!”

“Ain’t nobody comin’ up here t’ do nothin’.”

“Well, where’s th’ money I’ve been sendin’ ya’?”

“Safe.”

Enos stormed out of the house and grabbed a shovel from the shed. He walked around to the back of the house where an odd assortment of small shrubs peppered the lawn. He stuck the end of the shovel underneath one and dug it up. Underneath was a mayonnaise jar filled with money. He set it aside while he dug up the others. He carried the jars to his car and set them in the trunk to go through later. He took a small duffel bag from the car and went back inside.

“Listen ma’, I’ll take care of th’ mortgage while I’m here, okay. Just…would ya’ let me know if ya’ aren’t gonna pay it next time?” He received only a non-committal grunt from the woman who’s attention was riveted on Bob Barker eschewing the values of spaying and neutering your pets. “I’ve gotta’ get some clothes. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He turned from the main room down a short hallway that ended with two bedrooms, a smaller one to the right and a larger one to the left. Enos went into the smaller one and shut the door. The room was sparse, containing only a squat twin sized bed and a dresser to the far side of it. He pulled open the drawers, taking out the clothes he’d stored there when he’d left Hazzard and putting them in the bag. He changed out of the clothes he’d worn the day before and into a pair of jeans and one of the nicer button-down shirt and threw the old clothes in with the others.

Enos grabbed the bag from the bed and opened the door, then stopped and shut it again quietly as he remembered there was something else here that he should take with him, just in case his mom managed to burn down the place one day. He crossed the room, stopped by the window, and knelt down. His fingers felt for the loose corner of the piece of floorboard by the wall. He found it and pushed down, popping the rest of the board up. He pulled the board aside, then took out the one next to it as well. Beneath the boards, hidden between the sub-floor and foundation, was an old wooden WWI ammo box, about a foot long, eight inches high, and four inches wide. He pulled it out, set in on the floor, and opened the clasp on the end.

Enos had never had much growing up – in a place where having food on the table everyday was a feat in and of itself, he had always learned to count intangible blessings over worldly ones. Everything else fit into this box. He took out the contents one by one and laid them on the floor. A picture of him around thirteen or so with his dad, a picture of himself and Daisy when they were still in school, a rubber band propelled airplane, and finally a child’s toy holster with two metal cap guns and a sheriff’s badge. He laughed as he took one of the guns out of the holsters and pulled the trigger.

“Ka-pow!” he whispered. The guns were the only store bought toy he’d had growing up. To this day, he’d never known how his pa’ had raised the money to buy them, but they’d appeared under the Christmas tree when he was eight along with the holster and sheriff’s badge, and they’d been his most cherished possession for several years. It seemed like only yesterday that he was chasing Luke and Bo around while they played revenuers and moonshiners – the rural Georgia version of cops and robbers.

He put the objects back into the box and closed it, then carefully replaced the floor boards. Picking the bag up again as well as the ammo box, he opened the door and made his way back down the hallway and into the living room where his mom hadn’t moved.

“I’ve gotta go, ma’. I’ve got to head up t’ Choctaw an’ take care of some things. If you want, I can stop by tomorrow an’ take ya’ to town. It’d do ya’ a world of good to get out a spell, and Uncle Jesse says you’re welcome t’ stop by anytime.”

She finally turned to look at him. “Oh…so that’s what you’re doin’ here in Hazzard. I might’ve known it had somethin’ to do with them Dukes. That man ain’t yer uncle, an’ I don’t believe in callin’ people what they ain’t,” she said. “I allow I’m guilty of lettin’ you spend too much time down there when you were a kid. I reckon that’s why you’re so disrespectful.”

“I’m real sorry you think that way, ma’.” Enos had heard all of this before, so much so it hardly phased him.

“Don’t tell me you’ve come all th’ way t’ Hazzard to find that girl?”

Enos flinched at that. He could have done without mentioning Daisy here. His mother had always had an open contempt for his friendship or otherwise with her. To his mom, she was nothing but an ol’ ridge-runner’s kid, and though he’d reminded her often enough that he was, too, his ma’ was dead set against Enos courting her. Daisy was the only thing that he’d ever deliberately disobeyed her over.

“I’m a detective, I have a job t’ do – I reckon it don’t matter who it is.”

“You’d better be glad ya’ didn’t run off an’ marry her after all – I seen she done already run her first one off a couple years back. I suppose you’d expect that from trash like her.”

“Ma, please don’t talk about Daisy that way.” He picked up his bag and the box and opened the front door to leave, but stopped. The words of Daisy’s letter came back to him and he turned once more to face his mother. “What did you say to her, ma’? Before she got married?”

“I told her that you could do better than marryin’ a tramp like her. I guess she knew I was right, too, since she went an’ married that other feller th’ next week.”

Despite what he felt like saying, Enos held his tongue. His pa’ had taught him that if you couldn’t say somethin’ good about someone to just keep your mouth shut, so instead he closed the door and walked away. He got in the car and drove out the gate, mindful to shut in again, but rather than getting back in the car, Enos walked down the abandoned lane. He picked up a rock and chucked it into the woods as far as he could. It hit a tree and echoed through the quiet forest. Picking up another, he threw it, putting all his frustration behind it. He continued until his anger was gone, replaced by a sorrow that his own flesh and blood would talk that way to or about anyone. Surely Daisy hadn’t taken anything that ol’ bat said seriously, had she? Everyone in Hazzard County knew the word of Agnes Strate had to be taken with a whole heap o’ salt, not just a grain.

As he got back into the car and headed up over the mountains to Choctaw County, though, he couldn’t stop the tiny voice in the back of his brain that whispered to him that Daisy had listened to his mom, after all.