by: Sarah Stodola

When December fell on the county of Hazzard, it usually did so quietly.  The first snowfall, around Thanksgiving, had come and gone, and rain and snow would continue to grace the rest of the season’s weather as the temperature fluctuated from above to just slightly below freezing.  Farmers had their crops in, the few small ranchers had either sold their stock or were in waiting for spring births, moonshiner’s had done much of their running before snow fell and were carefully enjoying their profits at home.  ‘Boss’ JD Hogg was of course enjoying every cent he could gain from shoppers and clients of his bank, as well as the occasional, mostly quiet side scheme.  Life was… peaceful enough.  And cheery.  For the most part.

At the Duke farm, fifteen minutes from town on Old Mill Road, the winter season was usually a time of mixed work and fun.  This was the season for fixing anything that needed fixing in the house, or the barn, and for hunting to supplement what money and foodstuffs the family had stored away.  It was also a season for fun – board and card games on the rugs in front of the hearth, cookie baking, snow flinging, horseback riding… and once in a while, if the roads were clear of too much mud, a danger-edged motorbike race with friends.  The two youngsters in residence at the farm were both known for their own Duke brand of entertainment, one that occasionally turned a few more hairs on their Uncle Jesse’s head white.

However, this was not to be such a happy Christmas.  The teenagers, a blond boy and brunette girl, visibly related by the tall, lean build and dark blue eyes they shared, watched silently, leaning into one another’s sides, as Jesse carefully rearranged a framed photo of another young man on the mantelpiece before stepping back and tossing an envelope into the fire with no small amount of vehemence.  The older man turned and walked heavily across the living room, closing his bedroom door with a sound of finality.  The blond swallowed hard, wide eyes going to the photograph again, and blinking as if to hold back tears.  Slowly he sank to the floor, head buried in his arms and knees drawn up, body trembling slightly.  His cousin crouched behind him and wrapped her arms around him, her head on his shoulder as much for her own comfort as his.  The pair watched the fire almost numbly, the envelope and the letter it contained long since swallowed up by the flames, which continued now to flicker cheerily as if they had no idea what they had just help steal.

 

Mr. Duke,

          We most sincerely regret to inform you that your nephew was reported missing in action on October the 28^th.  We extend our sympathies and condolences to the family.  Please know that he was lost in the bravest course of action a man could take, that of sacrifice for his country and his unit…

********

The whine of mosquitoes was the first thing heard as the dark-haired young man curled in a ditch slowly awoke.  Blinking pale blue eyes blearily past the encrusting of dirt, he remained very still, hardly breathing, trying to ascertain just what it was that had nudged attuned and highly fear-edged senses awake.  He listened, peered around.  Three other young men in equally as filthy and tattered camouflage lay still around him.  One, a blond whose deep blue eyes reminded him all too painfully of another pair back home, lifted his head to look up.  The darker man shook his head, silently proclaiming silence to be kept with the brief pinning of his gaze.  He looked around again, this time daring to lift his head just a bit higher.  The sounds of creaking frogs and humming insects were the only ones in existence.

Then he realized.  The birds.  The birds were gone.  Eyes widening, he looked around quickly at the others, and all four young soldiers climbed slowly to hands and feet, crouching as low as possible as they made their near-silent way down the jungle ditch toward the cover of bushes a short ways away.  Somebody; the leader wasn’t sure and didn’t care who, stepped on a small stick, which broke with a crack. It wasn’t an overly loud sound, but to four beating hearts and terrified ears, it may as well have been a death call.  They scrambled faster to cover, and pushed through, the scratches received from branches and thorns irrelevant in comparison to the death awaiting in this land.  They pressed on, finally freezing on the edge of a short clearing to check its perimeters cautiously before making the potentially deadly gamble to rise to their feet and run across the opening and into the trees beyond.

Luck, or God, was on their side.  Once moving, the four’s will to live carried them on, further and further away from the danger that had been coming in pursuit, that the birds had warned of if a man knew how to listen.  It was a skill they all had honed to a fine point by now, a piece of the leader’s mountain-bred former life that had proven life-saving.  Through trees and across a shallow river they ran, the sound of splashing water the loudest one yet as the rotting vegetation of the jungle floor muffled footfalls.  The absence of traps and tripwires showed just how deep from the usual front line the group was, but it was not an absence they took for granted, eyes scanning ahead and to either side with wide-eyed caution as they went.  It was miles before the group finally came to a halt, breathing hard and hearts quick, but not daring to relax, muscles still on edge as they turned in place and peered around, listened… and finally sank to their behinds under a copse of large trees.

The leader was the last down, every instinct at high alert as pale eyes flicked from tree to tree, open space to open space.  Slowly, finally, he sat beside his comrades, grabbing and uncapping his canteen to take a small sip of brackish water, lips dry but not daring to waste the precious substance.  He recapped the canteen, and finally spoke.  “Jerry, where’s the compass.”

Jerry, a freckled redhead who looked barely out of high school, unclipped the device from his belt and handed it over.  The leader took it and flipped it open, eyes narrowing slightly at the dial before looking up, and turning in place, still sitting, until the needle pointed in the direction wanted.

“Wish we had a map,” he muttered, and no one answered, everyone understanding the ridiculousness of that statement.  Finally the compass was snapped shut and given back to its owner, and another sip of water taken.  Then he glanced back at the others.  “If we’re damn lucky, we’ll get outta enemy territory in a couple days.  We’re almost there, fellas.”

The blond scratched the back of his mud-flecked neck with equally as dirty fingers, voice pitched as low as the other man’s… instinct, in this place.  “Coupla days… you really think we’re gonna make it through that hellhole, Sergeant?”  Hope and doubt, along with a sense of discouragement that had tainted all the men’s minds for months, warred in his tone.

The sergeant shook his head just slightly to himself – only Collin still called him by rank in this group of war-torn prison camp escapees.  There had originally been seven of them.  One by one, three had been lost – one to an infection received while a guest of the North Vietnamese, one to a tripwired noose that had taken the near-boy up into the air by his neck as efficiently as any gallows, one to a distant shot that had sent the remaining four scrambling desperately in the hardest-made run yet until they had finally realized that pursuit was well behind, and the bullet that had taken their companion had been a stray from some unknown other location, traveled probably miles as was the wont of loose shots from a military rifle to do.  These four had survived thus far – only miles from their destination now, if a sense of distance and time was not completely gone, and if the compass was accurate.  Traveling by compass alone with no landmarks or contour map was a tricky business at best, but if they could at least get below the border separating the two countries and into friendlier territory, they could dare find a village and maybe even some of their own, American troops.  Blinking and taking a deep breath, the leader spoke up again grimly. “What other choice do we have?  We die here, or we die tryin’ to get to base.  Personally, I’d rather have the chance of makin’ it home.” Blue eyes narrowed and stared each other gaze down until their owner was satisfied, then he sighed, dropping his head to rest it on his arms over his drawn-up knees.

Only kids.  They were all only kids.  He was the oldest, twenty-one among an eighteen-year-old and two who were supposed to be nineteen… though he wasn’t entirely sure that the redhead, Jerry, was honest about his age.  He looked more like the age of the dark-haired leader’s younger cousins – just seventeen the end of November.  Recently… if his time sense wasn’t as gone as he prayed his direction sense wasn’t, this should be late November sometime.  He had only been in the camp a grand total of three, hellish enough, days before deciding to make a break for it at the next group march to dig a new latrine pit for their captors.  Pride and disgust had long since been overrun by the need to survive, and the drainage ditch to the jungle edge had proven itself both the best place to stage a revolt, and the best place to dump the bodies.  Of course the escape had been quickly discovered, and gunshots had been heard only minutes after the fleeing Americans had put wings on their whipped and soul-torn heels, heading south.  The run for the border on foot had never been truly planned out, just came to be.  They knew they weren’t too far away, at least they’d thought so.  But this forced run-walk through the jungle had taken weeks already, with no way to judge when they would cross the border except for an old native farmer they’d accidentally met who had, in a broken version of even his own country’s Viet, informed them that America was four days’ walk south.  Two days had passed since then.  If the old man had been right – about Americans, not America…. the sergeant barely allowed himself a quirk of lips upward – then they should be entering the area known as the demilitarized zone, which was in fact the hottest and most deadly battleground of all, soon.  If they were not already on some edge of it… or not way off course.

Finally he broke his own remembrances with a musing tone, desiring greatly to think of something other than death.  “Matrix, maybe you’ll be home for Christmas.  What’d’ya think of that?”

The other dark-haired man-boy, known only by his nickname and love of math games back at base, blinked up and summoned a small smile.  Having been chest-wounded in action about two months prior to capture, and then taken prisoner, he had a good chance of discharge from the Army if – no, when they returned.  “Yeah.  I’d like to see my mama again.”

“We’d all like to see our mamas again,” Collin spoke up quietly.  Then he glanced to the leader.  “What’d’ya think, Duke?  You think we could all get discharged?”

The sergeant, Lukas Duke, shook his head a little, face kept vaguely blank though emotions tightened within.  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.  “Don’t know the details of how the Army works.  I’m Marine, remember?  I know that bein’ bad injured and captured both should get him out, but the rest of us ain’t had that same combination.  Shoulder and leg wounds don’t count.  It’s war, it’s expected.”  His fingers circled absently over the hidden mark on his own thigh, a bullet taken shortly after he’d come to Southeast Asia nearly a year ago.

“After this, we all should get to go home,” Jerry groused, rubbing one hand across his forehead.  Luke watched him carefully; there wasn’t much that could be done, or even said, but from the paleness, except for flushed cheeks, of the younger soldier, he worried that Jerry had a fever.  It wouldn’t be unexpected in the jungle, with little good water or food, but… they’d lost enough men already.  The rest of them needed to get back alive.  Well… he finally decided, flicking his eyes away just as the red-haired boy looked his way, he’d let Jerry pretend otherwise until it got to be something he couldn’t work past.  They couldn’t exactly stop to take care of any one of their number, now.  They had to keep moving.

With that thought, Luke looked over his shoulder, in the direction they needed to move.  He looked at “his” men carefully, then finally climbed to his own feet, brushing his hands off briefly against just-as-dirty clothing.  “Come on.  We need to get moving again.”

Low groans answered, but the ragged band slowly got up and started off again, after another brief checking of the shared compass, walking this time.

However, they were closer to home than any of them had anticipated… closer to either salvation or destruction, as they discovered when a sudden whistling howl of rotors swept past overhead and was answered just as sudden with fire from all too nearby.  The young men stopped and spun, turning around with backs to one another, hearts pounding with fear and the instinct for flight.  Rapid-fire anti-air arced into the sky, barely winging one of the narrow, weapons-bristling gunships that swooped back sideways and around, firing back into the trees before leaving the four refugees’ sight.

“American..!” Collin yelled over the sound, looking up.  His face flushed and eyes shone bright with a rare boyish joy.  Luke was reminded all too much, almost painfully, again of another blond, half a world away… then all hell broke loose.

The roar of the choppers again, this time low against the treetops, was deafening, nearly knocking Luke to the ground.  The ground shook with an explosion nearby, and Jerry lost his footing with a grunt as he went down on his hands before scrambling up again.  Hearts pounding and breath coming hard, the four men ran, zigzagging between shots and explosions.  Luke couldn’t stop praying, Please Lord, please Lord lemme get home, please lemme get home…  He skidded sideways on some wet leaves, hearing shouts off to the side as they were spotted.  A bullet whistled past overhead, the Americans ducking reflexively though it wouldn’t do any good.  Several seconds later, a cry came from behind; Luke spun to see Collin stumble and clutch his shoulder, but keep moving.  They broke from the jungle into the open, where Viet Cong and American troops were running, firing.  The world was nothing but destruction and survival and flames, and the four escapees, without ammunition, were in the middle of it.

Luke could never say what all exactly happened after that.  It was explosion and flare, cries and roars, the howl of rotors and the scream of ballistics… and then, sudden and breath-stealing with a choked sound he couldn’t avoid, a burning, ripping pain in his left side… and as he doubled over, stumbling to his knees, another tear through his shoulder.  He rolled onto his side, gasping, unable to think, only see as he lifted his hand from his middle, covered in bright red blood.  Stars swam in his vision, and he heard shouts, saw familiar and unfamiliar faces hover over, and the rough grab of hands on his body, before the world went mercifully black.

*********

The sounds of voices woke him.  Blue eyes fluttered slowly open, flicking around with a now-innate suspicion and fear, before a deep breath escaped at the sight of American uniforms, English writing… they’d made it.  They were back.

Or… were they?  He’d been hit; he remembered that much plainly.  What about the others?  A flare of panic rose and his hand clenched in the bed sheet – then a nurse was there, and calling for the doctor on duty and giving him a shot which he dully knew was to calm him… then a rugged, brusque but not entirely unfriendly face hovered over.

“Well, boy,” the doctor spoke.  His voice was rough but pleasant enough. More so than his looks, Luke thought randomly, fighting an inane smile.  He was drugged…  “Looks like you’ll pull through. Good.  I lose enough patients.  Get well and get out.”  Then, with the slightest of smiles, so faint that Luke wasn’t sure he wasn’t imagining it, a letter was dropped on his chest.  The younger man fumbled for the paper one-handed.  The doctor beat him to reading it by speaking again.  “You’re on the next boat out, soldier.  Go home and kiss your mama and get married for me.”  Then he was gone.

Luke lay still, mind reeling.  It didn’t even occur to him how ridiculous either of those suggestions sounded given his own home situation – no parents and no steady girl – for a few seconds… and even when it did he hardly cared.  He struggled to unfold the letter with a trembling right hand, blinking at it until the ill-typed letters swam into focus.  He mumbled to himself as he scanned.  “Duly note….honor….awards….medical discharge.”  Finally coming to the part that made his pulse skip, he read it again more carefully.  “Due to injuries causing unfitness for duty, the awarded is hereby granted an honorable medical discharge from the United States Marine Corp and passage to San Diego on the ship the USS Lexington on December 4…”  His heart missed another few beats, then began to race.  He looked up, calling out, roughly, his stitched gut hurting with the effort.  “What day is it?  What day is it?”

The same nurse as before came into view, giving him a brief frown for the shouts.  “It’s November 27^th.  Now hush… get some sleep and get well.  You have a boat to catch.”

And maybe the holidays to catch up to, too…  Luke couldn’t help a small, breathless smile… which faded again quickly.  “What happened to my guys?”

“Which unit are you in?”

“No… no…”  He struggled to find words.  “We weren’t in a unit… we escaped, north… came south… Jerry, Matrix, Collin…”

“Ahh… you’re one of them.”  The nurse nodded briefly.  “They made it.  Was a close call on Corporal Lancer.  He’ll be on your boat.”

Lancer…  His mind struggled briefly before recalling that that was Matrix’s real name.  The drug was beginning to take full effect again, the world going darker.  He closed his eyes, a slight smile of relief touching his lips, and murmured, “Good…  Deserved… to go home… anyway…”

And then sleep took him again.

********

Snow was falling, coating the world in white and shadow.  Jesse Duke looked across the back fields to the woods beyond, through the mist of tiny flakes.  Nothing moved, except… he narrowed his eyes against the snow and peered toward a spot he thought he saw move.  Ah… shadow on shadow.  A deer; if he was lucky, a buck.  He didn’t have his rifle with him at the time; only a covered pail of evening milk, but deer were known to return to an area for a certain time.  He’d lay out some salt tomorrow; attract the group this singleton belonged to, and pick out the most likely buck that arrived.  The key to good hunting, including the survival of the herd and a man’s own conscience, was culling out only younger bucks, and not the strongest ones either… nor the current sire – which was contrary to the way of many city hunters who came out only for the trophy racks – nor a doe.  Jesse nodded slightly to himself in thought and continued on toward the house, the only other life seen a crow circling slowly overhead to land in the oak tree, feathers puffed miserably.  The farmer tilted his head up and sideways at the bird, and snorted slightly.

“Why don’t ya go south, like the rest of the feathered fowl?”  The crow only fluffed farther, and Jesse climbed the porch steps carefully to the kitchen door.  The layer of white on the ground was only a couple inches deep, but it was enough to slip if a body wasn’t careful.  He stomped the snow off his boots and brushed it from his jacket, then opened the door and went in.

The kitchen was warm, welcoming, inviting with its smells of cookies and cider.  His kids… his remaining kids he thought sadly… were sitting at the kitchen table, signing Christmas cards to pass out at church the next morning.  He rested a hand gently on Bo’s shoulder as he went by to put the pail in the sink, to keep the water dripping off the outside off the counter.  The blond boy half-turned to look up at him with a small smile, but the normally shining dark blue eyes were dulled, the brightest spark of life gone out of them.  A similar look was in Daisy’s gaze, if not quite as hopeless.  Jesse sighed slightly and rubbed the thin shoulder beneath his hand before going to get the milk jug from the dish drainer where it had been placed after washing, and pour the goat milk from the pail into the jug on the counter. Wordlessly, Bo turned around to continue scribbling.

Jesse watched the cousins for a moment as he was rinsing out the pail.  Luke’s… disappearance, he couldn’t bring himself to think loss… had hit both of the teenagers hard.  Bo had hardly spoken for weeks.  Quietly, Jesse sighed, turning his gaze to his work as he carried the milk to the refrigerator.  His own pain he kept under control most of the time.  His nephews and niece were as his own sons and daughter, but Luke was the most like his own flesh and blood.  More steady even as a child, even past the wilder edges taught by country life, more focused and more in love with the land than either of the others.  Luke was the one he’d counted on to take the reins when he was too old, someday…  Realizing that his hands were shaking, he leaned them against the counter, head bowed briefly against tears.  This was not the time for crying… it was Christmas Eve.  It was a night to be giving thanks for the children he had left, and the home they shared… the life…

“Oh Lord…” he whispered.  “If You give me nothin’ else in the whole world, for the rest of my life… give me my boy back…”

Hands rested on his shoulders silently; Bo and Daisy.  His niece leaned against his side, his head against his arm.  He opened the arm to hug her close, half-turning then to repeat the gesture for Bo, kissing both foreheads.  The seventeen-year-olds nestled into him, neither looking up. Sometimes… they were so very alike…

A knock came at the front door.  Jesse turned, and the kids with him.  He saw Bo surreptitiously wipe his hand across his eyes before stepping back and lifting his chin.  Jesse nodded Daisy to answer, turning to wipe dribbled water off the counter with a small rag.  He heard the door open, and heard a familiar – not entirely welcome – voice.  Sighing, he turned and went out into the living room to face JD Hogg. “Evenin’, JD,” he greeted a bit reluctantly.

“Evenin’, Jesse.”  Boss nodded almost sagely, bundled in white coat, gloves, and hat.

“What’re you here for this time, JD?  Bills due?”

Hogg frowned.  “Jesse..!  I can’t believe you’d believe that of me…”

Jesse sighed.  “Then what is it, JD?”

“I… well I…” Hogg paused as if to find the right-and-proper words.  “I wanna offer my condolences, at this Christmas time.”  He didn’t quite smile… Jesse sighed.  Even under the wallet, Boss Hogg had a heart.

“Thank you, JD,” he finally nodded, and took a step back.  “Would ya like to come in?”

“No thank you, Jesse…” JD shook his head, taking a step back.  “Just was on my way past…  I’ll leave you be.  Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, JD,” the farmer replied quietly, shutting the door as the white-coated, shorter man turned away and moved into the snow toward his car.  Daisy made a shivering sound from beside him, and moved toward the fire to warm up again, her cousin beside her.  Jesse moved away from the door and watched them.  He couldn’t help but feel melancholy.  He had what he had… but…  “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,” he murmured to himself, and turned away, back to the kitchen.

********

 

The bus hissed as it came to a halt at the Hazzard bus stop, and the doors slid open.  Only one figure stepped off the stairs, and paused to heft a bag carefully over the shoulder that wasn’t held in a sling, before moving away from the bus, breath fogging into the air.  The snow level was minimal so far, relative to how it could be after some storms, but… it had been too long… to see it at all instead of heat and humidity and insects was a blessing.  The young man took a deep breath of the cold and started down the sidewalk, feet crunching lightly as he went, eyes half-squinted and peering through the falling flakes and clumps.  It was a few cold miles’ hike home, but he welcomed it in a way… welcomed the slow night-time view of home.  He turned his feet westward, and strode down the scraped asphalt that would soon turn to snow-covered dirt, where buildings would turn to trees, and flatland to hilly outlooks over a pond.

Where town would become open country… and open land become a farm…

 

********

 

Jesse sighed and half-turned when he heard a knock to the door… again.  He looked to his kids, who peered up at him from a game of checkers next to the fireplace, unwilling to move.  He sighed again and flopped his newspaper from his lap onto the coffee table, grasping the chair arms to lift himself up and out, and move toward the door.  Grumbling about JD and Rosco and whoever else might be out here again at this time of night, he opened it almost roughly – and froze.

Pale blue eyes blinked back at him, the face looking almost hesitant, but wistful… tired… hopeful… scarred within in a way Jesse had only ever seen in another man, a friend who had gone to another war. But this… half-stranger… was no stranger.  Jesse’s throat tightened, and his eyes blurred, and he could barely speak to whisper as he reached out.

“Luke…”

The young soldier closed old eyes, a slight hitch to his breath as well as he leaned into his uncle’s embrace.  Jesse held him, held on tight, stroking the back of his head like he had done to the child years ago, and murmured a choked, tearful prayer of thanks.  He couldn’t find it in him to care that the cold was coming into the house quickly through the open door, hardly caring that his other kids were scrambling up, scattering checkers every which way, to launch themselves across the room and at their lost, re-found cousin.  Jesse moved aside just enough to let them in, leaving a hand on Luke’s back as the muscular young man hugged both cousins as well as he could with his left arm in a sling.  The younger ones didn’t seem to care, leaning in and wrapping both arms around him anyway, heads on his chest and shoulder. Daisy was crying… Bo wasn’t, but he was swallowing hard, the urge visibly there.

“Lukas…” the blond boy whispered, voice almost rough… the first word spoken since another few had been, days ago.  “Missed you… scared.”

“I know,” his older cousin murmured, brushing kisses into blond and brunette hair without discrimination, before looking up again at Jesse.  Blue eyes blinked, a visible wetness there as the snow swirled behind… the voice choked.  “I’m home, Uncle Jesse…”

Jesse could not hold back the wide, slow smile that was growing steadily if he had wanted to.  “You’re home,” he nodded, clapping his hands briefly and gripping them together, heart singing praise, before putting a hand on his oldest child’s back to guide all three of his babies in.  His family was finally whole again, safe and home… through the storm, home for Christmas.

 

 

END

by: Brian

Crisp leaves crunched under the steady tread of black boots.  Walking swiftly against the bite of the winter air, Brian turned up his jacket collar and tucked his chin down.  His hands were stuffed into the outer pockets of his jacket, and his outward demeanor was as cool and forbidding as the temperature.

Undaunted, two unseen, diminutive spirits observed the black-clad Coltrane and dogged his steps.  They followed him as he marched briskly across the town square, jaywalking his way from the small café in town back to the courthouse.  His brief lunch break was over, and there was a lot of workday left ahead of him.   He quickly disappeared up the courthouse steps, the door shutting hard behind him.

“I’m not sure,” the first tiny spirit whispered, hovering outside the courthouse doors.  “He may not be ready.”

“We have to try,” the companion spirit answered, with a slight shimmer of light.  “We need another helper.”

“But….him?  He’s so….”   The doubting spirit chose the word carefully.  “…Difficult.”

“Which is why he is available to us.  All the good ones are already taken. Come along, we must work with what have.”

This decided, the two spirits drifted through the courthouse doors, flitted down the hall, and seeped through the double doors of the booking room.  Incorpeal and undetectable, they explored the booking room and the rest of the Sheriff’s Department, finding it grey and cheerless.  They communicated to each other without concern, their melodic, high-pitched voices being beyond the scale of the human ear.

“Not a very nice place, is it?”

“No. Jails usually aren’t, as a rule.”

Brian looked up from the booking room desk, sensing something.  But there was no one at the doors; no one in the holding cell, and no one in the side offices or in the downstairs jail.  Shrugging to himself, he went back to sorting parking tickets.  The silence of the booking room was only broken by the sound of the hand-stamp he used to mark tickets Past Due.  The tedious paperwork, in his mind, was not worth the fines it collected.  He sighed to himself, working mechanically, the stamp thudding hard against the desk.

The first spirit drifted close to the booking desk, puffing away slightly each time the stamp landed.  It whispered a question to its companion.  “Now?”

“Now,” the second spirit answered.  The two of them glided forward, making a subtle touch upon the shoulders of the unsuspecting Coltrane.  Their mission accomplished, they departed from the booking room, evaporating through the wall.

The stamp landed with another thud.  Brian had kept working, seemingly oblivious to the touch of otherworldly visitors. But after a couple of minutes, he paused and lifted his head.  His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, a sweet-tooth craving abruptly distracting him.

Peppermint.

He pulled open the desk drawers in the vain hope of finding any candy.  There wasn’t so much as a stick of gum, and he gave a grunt of disappointment.  Standing up, Brian left the desk and began to comb the Sheriff’s department, searching for something minty. Sugary.  Like one of those little red and white candies in the clear cellophane wrapper.  Or a peppermint stick.  Somethin’ like that…yeah.

He kept searching for sweets, without success. He was busy was making an unauthorized investigation of Rosco’s office when the Sheriff wandered back in from patrol.  Upon seeing Brian rifling through his desk, Rosco snuck up quietly to the doorway, folded his arms, and blocked it.  He cleared his throat loudly to announce his presence, putting on his best sarcasm.   ?Ahem.  Brian, why don’t you just help yourself to any small change or paper clips you might find…”

“Huh? Oh, howdy Sheriff.”   Standing behind Rosco’s desk, Brian turned his head in greeting but kept digging.  “I was just lookin’ for some peppermint.”

“What?”  Rosco unfolded his arms and stepped inside the office.  If this was a shuck and jive, it was a new one.

“Mint.  You know, like….those little starlite mints.  Or…a candy cane.”    As if realizing something for the first time, Brian looked out toward the rest of the Sheriff’s Department, noticing how drab-looking it was. “We don’t have any candy canes heah.  We ain’t got any Christmas decorations up, either.”

Rosco was just about to apologize for it, but then he recovered.  “Arrrrre you kiddin’ me?  This ain’t no candy store, this is a police department!  It’s supposta look sherioush.”

“Serious?  It’s plenty serious.  But that don’t mean you can’t have a little cheer around the place….”  Brian walked out from behind the desk, looking at it critically.  “You know what you need for your desk, is a snow-globe. You know, ya turn it upside-down and then upright again, and the little sparkly thangs swirl around a winter scene, and…”

“Snow globe?!”   Rosco looked startled.  “Awwwright, git outta my office. Git git git…..”   He put an arm around Brian’s back and shoved him towards the door.  “You’d better go eat some lunch.  I think you got a vitamin missin’ or somethin’.”

“I ate lunch already!”

“Eat another one!  In fact, why don’t you g’wan home and git outta my hair, instead a’ tearin’ the place up.”

“But I ain’t done with those tickets you wanted me to sort.  And there’s filin’ that needs to be done. Stuff has been pilin’ up since MaryAnne left for Finchburg…”

Rosco waved his hand in gruff dismissal.  “It was pilin’ up before that, and it’ll still be there tomorrow. Git.”

“Awright.”    Heaving a sigh, Brian headed for the swinging doors, and didn’t look back as he pushed his way through them.  Rosco was in one of those moods, and when the Sheriff started to growl and prowl, it paid to be elsewhere.

Rosco watched the doors swing shut, making sure his younger cousin was making good on the exit.  When Brian got weird, it paid to have him elsewhere.  And that boy was definitely missing a marble from the bag today.

The Sheriff took a seat behind his desk.  He was settling into his paperwork when the thought of peppermint distracted him.  “Dang it….”

*****     *****     *****

Brian resolved his own peppermint craving with a stop at the store in town.  Old-fashioned peppermint sticks were inexpensive enough, and he’d bought a dozen of them, tucking them within the inside pocket of his leather jacket.  He couldn’t resist buying a couple boxes of candy canes and a jar of assorted candies, either.  He’d sneak those into the booking room later.  Along with the cheap little snow globe he’d found for Rosco’s desk.

For now, he was content to chew on the peppermint stick he had in the corner of his mouth.  Since he had some free time this afternoon and didn’t feel like being alone, he drove Diablo over to the Boar’s Nest.  He left the radio off and hummed “Silver Bells” to himself, wondering if Atlanta had the big Christmas tree up at City Hall yet.  He remembered his first glimpse of it, fondly, through an old, misted memory; the tree had been visible through his dorm window at juvenile detention.

Once at the Boar’s Nest, Brian strolled inside and sat at his usual spot, by the back wall and jukebox.  He glanced around and was pleased to see that some festive garland had been hung up, along with a few battered-looking Christmas ornaments.  He chewed on the stub of the peppermint stick, absently thinking about how nice a big string of Christmas lights would look over the bar.

Daisy approached the table and interrupted his daydreaming.  “You’re early today,” she said in greeting.   “What’ll it be, sugar?”

“Oh, lessee….”  Brian thought about it, leaning his elbows on the table.  “You got any egg nog?”

“Egg nog?!”  Daisy nearly dropped her pen and the order tablet with it.  “No…”

“Well, how about a hot chocolate.”  Brian smiled lazily and chewed up the remainder of the peppermint stick.  For a second, Daisy thought he’d just eaten his cigarette, until she saw him reach into his jacket pocket for more candy.  “You got any marshmallows?”  he asked cheerfully.

“H-hot…chocolate…okay…marshmallows…got it!”   Daisy bolted off.  Brian’s order was enough to make her nervous.  This was the same guy who usually ordered beer, or whatever hard liquor he could find.  Now, he wanted hot chocolate, and instead of a cigarette in his teeth, he was chewing on peppermint sticks.  It was unsettling.

Minutes later, she served him a steaming mug of hot chocolate, with a sprinkling of marshmallows on top.  Delighted, Brian took the fresh peppermint stick from his teeth and stirred it in the mug, playing with the marshmallows and dunking them to make them squishy.   He slurped the hot cocoa noisily and with such simple glee, that Daisy was slowly backing up away from him as if she’s seen an apparition.  She bumped into her own cousins as they walked in, which startled her and made them chuckle.

“Daisy, it’s just us,”  Luke chuckled.  “What are you all backed up like a cat about?”

Mutely, Daisy pointed at Brian, who was jabbing the peppermint stick into the hot chocolate in an effort to spear a marshmallow. When he failed, he sipped the hot chocolate from the end of the stick and tried again, playing with his beverage.

Bo chimed in.   “His table manners are lousy, but heck that’s nothin’ new.  What did he…”

The Dukes fell silent and watched as Brian abruptly got up from the table.  He walked so suddenly to the jukebox that that nobody knew what to think.  His dark eyes scanned over the song titles with a particular urgency.  Not finding what he wanted, Brian straightened up and called a question over his shoulder.  “Hey, how come there ain’t any Christmas Carols on the jukebox?”

Daisy stared.  Luke blinked.  Bo looked shocked.  In unison, they answered, “What?!”

Brian went back to the table to pick up his mug of hot chocolate.  He walked up to the Dukes, stirring it with the peppermint stick, and paused to take a long sip.   He looked as if he had no cares in the world, except for his burning question, repeated calmly: “Why don’t you have any Christmas songs on the jukebox?  Like, “Jingle Bell Rock”,  or  “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer?”

Daisy found her voice and gave what she hoped was a calming, reassuring smile.   “Oh, we will!  It’s just a little early yet, but I’ll get the records out of storage.”

Brian’s face lit up.  “Good!  I’ll be back later, then…..”   With this, he held the peppermint stick out of the mug, and downed the contents.   He sat the empty mug on a nearby table, replacing the peppermint stick within his mouth and speaking around it.  “Mph. Heah.”    He dug for his wallet, handing over some dollar bills to Daisy.  “Gitcher self and yer cousins a drink too.”    Tucking his wallet away, Brian gave the Dukes a polite nod and strolled casually out the door.

Bo gave a swallow.  “I’ve never known him to offer us a drink unless he was pouring it over our heads.”

“Something’s up,” Luke agreed.  “He’s being too nice.  Either it’s a shuck n’ jive and he’s setting us up for a nasty prank, or….”

“Or something happened to him,” Daisy suggested.

*****        *****       *****

The something – or somethings –  that had happened to Brian were keeping a close watch on their new recruit.  The tiny, invisible spirits that had influenced him were following his progress.  For himself, Brian had no idea as to the cause of his sudden Christmas spirit.  Now that it was there, it was hard to imagine a time when it wasn’t.

After his visit to the Boar’s Nest, he went home with a single thought on his mind.  The House Must Be Decorated.  Compelled by this instinct, he jogged up the stairs, got out the stepladder, and squirreled up into the attic.  He dug out the boxes of ornaments, the strings of Christmas lights, and the artificial tree.   He did a minor re-arrange of the living room to set everything up.  Though he didn’t rush, it seemed like the time passed quickly; he was content to put the tree together, and he decorated it with some appreciation for aesthetics, getting particular about which ornaments went where.   He recalled how his cousins usually set it up, and he followed the tradition.

As he topped the tree with the silver star, he was flooded with memories of Christmas past. Not all of them were pleasant, and for a moment, he felt that familiar constriction in his heart.  He pushed it aside, with effort, and concentrated on balancing the star on the tree.   There was nothing to be done about the past, except to forgive it, and forgive himself in the process.

When he plugged in the lights and the tree glowed with a soft brilliance, he smiled again.  Christmas was now here, whether anybody liked it or not.  The thought made him chuckle.  It was a far cry from his old attitude of, No tree, no presents, no problem.  This year he wanted Christmas, and he wanted it for everybody.

Whistling, he picked up the remaining strands of lights, and took them outside to hang over the porch.  Rosco was going to have a conniption about the electric bill, but what the hell.

*****     *****     *****

Twilight was settling over Hazzard County as the black Chevy cruised down Mill Pond Road.  It pulled off the road and crept into the Duke farmyard, cautiously.   The General Lee and the white Jeep were gone; it seemed safe enough to Brian, then, to pull off his scheme.   He parked the car and reached for the pair of leather gloves he’d brought along.  Slipping them over his hands, he got out of the car quietly and snuck up close to the house.  He stopped upon reaching the old stump where the axe was standing, and looked around.   Nobody appeared to be home.

Satisfied, he hefted up the axe,  took aim at a log of wood, and chopped at it.  Unaccustomed to the chore, his first effort at firewood was a choppy, uneven, splintered mess.  After taking a good look at the wood the Dukes already had stacked, he figured out to split the log in half, then turn each half over flat, and split it again, and then cut those pieces in half.  After awhile he was perspiring, but there were a few more cords of wood stacked up.  He rested five minutes, heaving in some cool, clean air, his breath steaming in steady puffs.  He picked up the axe again, and cut firewood until several more cords of wood were stacked; and then, suspecting that the Dukes would be heading home for dinner soon, he thunked the axe into the stump and left.

Rather than feeling tired, the exercise had energized him.  Brian drove Diablo towards town.  He knew Rosco was just about to go off duty for the night; and so it was the perfect time to double-back to Hazzard and decorate the Sheriff’s department.  There were a few things in the Chevy’s trunk, fresh from the attic of the Coltrane homestead, that would cheer the place up.

*****     *****     *****

The next day, Brian made sure to be out of the courthouse by the time Rosco was due to arrive at it.  Not that he was really worried about the Sheriff’s reaction to the booking room. Though in hindsight, Brian wondered if he’d went too far with spraying the artificial snow. In any case it seemed a great time to go Christmas shopping.   He strolled through the town square, hardly noticing the crisp air, humming “Winter Wonderland.”

Behind him, invisible and very pleased with themselves, the tiny spirits followed.

“He’s making progress.”

“Yes, but will it last?”

“Let us hope.”

Unaware of the unearthly surveillance, Brian tread lightly down the sidewalk.  He browsed storefronts, keeping his eye out for gift ideas, enjoying the decorations.   The ringing of a small bell got his attention, and a couple stores down, a weary-looking Salvation Army volunteer stood by his donation bucket and clanged the bell.   It was chilly enough out that the man was looking uncomfortable, but he rang the bell dutifully, if not with much enthusiasm or volume.

Before he knew what he was doing, Brian approached the bell-ringer, smiling.  “Howdy!  Man, you look cold. Why don’t you take five and get a cup of coffee, eh?  I’ll mind the bank for you.”

The volunteer almost laughed; he wasn’t about to trust a total stranger with the hard-won donations in the bucket, even if it wasn’t that much.  But there was something sincere in Brian’s voice, and a kindness in the eyes, that made it rather hard to refuse.   The bell was handed over, and gratefully, the volunteer nodded and headed towards the café to warm up.

The small bell was a lot of fun for the first two minutes, but it wasn’t long before Brian realized that ringing the darn thing nonstop was kind of fatiguing.   He also wasn’t doing too hot with drawing in coins;  the bell seemed to repel as many people as it attracted, and a few people who recognized him audibly snorted in distain.

Deciding on a new tactic, Brian sat the bell down, and reached inside of his jacket pocket for something he just happened to be carrying around lately.  The harmonica was old, but it was clean and well-made.  He cupped it to his mouth, and began a quiet, slow serenade of “Silent Night.”    He forgot about the fact he was standing in the middle of town on the sidewalk; he didn’t worry about what people would think, or whether or not they would put coins in the bucket. He just breathed his life into the instrument, closed his eyes, and let himself drift with it.  Thoughts of home filled him; thoughts of his friends, his kin, whether they were near or far…..he played on, sending the melody to them.

He was distantly aware of people and sounds around him, but nothing broke his own spell with himself.   It was only when he ceased the last, soft note and opened his eyes, that he saw the small group of people listening, many of them now pulling out coins and dollars to give.  Encouraged, he smiled and brought the harmonica back up; “Little Drummer Boy”  seemed appropriate just then, and he played it.   Shall I play for you…

If anything, there were more people gathering, and some were singing along.  It was an impromptu concert, and with the crowd looking for a song to join in on, Brian took a deep breath and belted out Santa Claus Is Coming To Town.   This made the little kids smile, and the sound of their young voices yelling the chorus filled the town square.  “He knows when you’ve been sleeping!  He knows when you’re awake!  He’s knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake!!”

On the other side of the town square, Rosco heard the commotion clear into the booking room.  Curiosity lured him out to the street.  At first sight of the singing crowd, he thought it was the biggest group of Christmas carolers he’d ever seen.  But he heard the strains of a harmonica mixed in, and then he saw it.

His cousin was dancing around like a lunatic, playing the harmonica, and amusing the crowd.  Somebody had picked up the donation bell too, and was keeping time with it.   While the activity wasn’t exactly illegal, Rosco figured that Brian could possibly be drunk.   It would also explain why the booking room looked like it had been hit by a Christmas parade. Muttering to himself, Rosco went to collect his erstwhile kin.  “Eggnog on an empty stomach again…..when’s he gonna learn?”

It took some doing to get close to the scene.  “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer”  had just broken out, and Brian was leading the kids around in a hokey-pokey reindeer dance.   When the Sheriff made eye contact, Brian merely grinned and waved for him to join in.   Before Rosco could react, the volunteer who was in charge of the donation bucket, nudged the Sheriff in the arm.  “Do you rent him out for parties?”

Surprised, Rosco could only admit that it seemed like a good idea.  He stood there until the song ended, not sure whether he should congratulate Brian on a fine performance, or lock him up.  Breathless and grinning, Brian gave a sweeping bow as the crowd cheered. The volunteer heartily shook Brian’s hand, thanking him for bringing in the donations.  The bucket was full.

People went on their way with smiles, and as soon as things thinned out, Rosco grabbed Brian by arm, turning him towards the courthouse.  “Awwwright, let’s go.  You need to dry out and come to yer senses.”

“I’m fine, Sheriff.  Nevah better.”   Brian grinned.  “Say, why don’t we go get a cup of hot cider and a donut?”

“I ain’t got time for …..”   Rosco started to say.  Then he thought about it.  “You think the bakery’s got any of them sugar donuts left?”

“I’m sure of it. Come on.”   Brian headed off towards the bakery, returning the harmonica to the inner pocket of his jacket.  Rosco fell in step with him,  still unsure of what to make of his cousin’s behavior.  But dang it, now that Brian had said donuts, he wanted one.   They were nearly at the bakery when Rosco stopped and pulled out his ticket book.

“Whatcha doin’?”   Brian stopped too and turned to look.

“This meter’s expired,” Rosco answered, and clicked his pen.  He started writing down the license plate of the car, but Brian suddenly stuck a dime in the meter and cranked the knob.  The meter now registered a half-hour’s time.

“There! No need to write a ticket,”   Brian said cheerfully.

“But….but….you can’t do that!”  Rosco objected.

“Why not?  I got the spare change, and these nice folks are Christmas shoppin’.”   Brian dug a few more dimes from his pocket, and walked down the sidewalk looking at the meters.   When he found one that was expired or about to run out, he dropped in a dime.

Fear tingled down Rosco’s spine.  This was the most errie thing he’d ever seen in his life.  Worse, Brian didn’t seem drunk; he was sober, and ridiculously happy.   He soon returned from his parking-meter mission with a broad smile.  “I think everybody’s covered,” he reported to Rosco.   “Come on, I don’t know about you, but I still want a donut!”   With a boyish chuckle, Brian darted into the bakery.

Minutes later, Rosco was enjoying a sugar donut and a hot cup of cider.  He had convinced Brian to come back with him to the booking room, and they were seated at a desk, having the snack in silence, save for Brian’s random humming of Christmas carols. The black-clad Coltrane was looking around at the booking room decorations with pride.  Eventually, his mood got the better of him and he piped up again.   “Ya know what, I think I’ll bake some gingerbread cookies tonight.”

Rosco had just taken a drink and it was all he could do not to spit it out in alarm.  Brian babbled on.  “…don’t know if we got any vanilla extract at home, or I’d fix up some sugar cookies while I’m at it.  Ooo!  I could make extra and take some to Miz Tizdale and Cooter and all my friends and….”

Rosco sputtered and sat his cup of cider down.   “Awright, Brian.  It’s bad enough you put a decorated Christmas tree into the holding cell, and covered dang near everything here in artificial snow, and hung up enough junk to make this look like a department store on the day after Thanksgiving.  You’ve been actin’ like you’re on somethin’,  but for the life of me I can’t imagine what.”

Brian chuckled and merely shrugged.   “I’m just happy to see Christmas this year.”

The Sheriff studied his cousin’s face.  “Did you finally snap?  I know you’ve been missin’ MaryAnne since she went to Finchburg.  Are you maybe tryin’ too hard to convince yourself you’re happy?  It’s hard, with her bein’ gone over the holidays…”

The question made Brian pause.  “I don’t think that’s it,” he answered seriously.  “I miss her…but I know she’s not too far away.”   He rested a hand over his heart for emphasis.   “She’s nevah far from either of us….she’s right here.  And even if we can’t see her this Christmas, she’ll be with us in her own way.  Just like we’ll be, for her.”

Rosco gave a slow nod to this, but he was still testing.  “I figured with MaryAnne bein’ away it would be all the harder on ya.  This never used to be your favorite time of year.”

“It’s probably hard on her, too.  I know she’d be here if she could.”  Brian sipped at the rest of his cider, thoughtfully.  “Far as Christmas goes….everybody has some holidays that are better than others, and some years that are tougher than others.  Now that you’ve got me thinkin’, though….maybe it’s just my turn.”

“Your turn?”

“Yeah.  You know, to spread a little cheer for Christmas.  Do whatevah  I can to make somebody else smile.  How many times did you and MaryAnne pick me up off the ground?   Maybe it’s just my turn to share back some of that happiness.”

Rosco listened, giving another nod, not knowing quite what to say.  Brian continued. “Every year there’s some people who go crazy for Christmas stuff.   They’ve got their shoppin’ done early, they have the decorations up before most the neighborhood, and they’re all into the yuletide gig.  Then there’s other folks who find the holidays depressing, onconna their circumstances or some past events, and they’re just waiting for it to get over with.  The rest fit in the middle somewhere.”

“Looks like you moved up a notch.’

“Heh….I did, didn’t I.  Maybe it’s that my head n’ heart finally got on the same page, Rosco.”

Brian stood up from the chair and paced over to the window.  He looked out at the town square, at the decorations, at the people.   “It’s good to be here,” he said simply.   “To have a place to call home…to have people to care about and love.  To share back a little happiness.”

Rosco stood up and joined Brian in gazing out the window, resting a hand on his shoulder.

*****     *****     *****

When Christmas Eve came upon Hazzard, a number of families gathered at the community church for the evening service.  Tall candles glowed warmly from behind stained-glass windows and more of them filled the altar.  The candlelight Christmas service was a popular tradition in the small town, and the church was nearly full by the time Brian and Rosco snuck inside.

They scooted into a pew near the back of the church.  They were just in time for the sermon.  The words of the preacher rang out over the hushed congregation, the ageless message retold.  After a bow of heads and a prayer for peace, the congregation stood. The singing of the hymns and carols began.

Neither Rosco nor Brian considered themselves great vocalists, but they raised their voices in song nonetheless.  “O Holy Night” always sounded beautiful in the acoustics of the old wooden church, and so they gave it their best.  “….a thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices….”

A latecomer to the church nudged into the pew, and a clear, melodious voice joined that of the Coltrane menfolk.  “…for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn…”

MaryAnne’s voice could not be mistaken.  The Coltrane family sang together, a richness in harmony found in the accompaniment of one another’s voice.  “…fall on your knees! O hear, the angel voices! O, night divine!  The night that Christ was born!”

Merry Christmas !

by: MaryAnne

*Author Note: This story was written a few years ago and is actually an incomplete work. But it shows some nice scenes for the season. Khee!*

Brian pulled Diablo into the drive of the Coltrane homestead and parked next to Maverick. He patted the hoods of the two cars as he made his way to the porch, that was lit with the single bulb over the door and also awash in the colors from the Christmas tree that was displayed inside near the front window. The sun had long ago set and there was the tell tale December chill in the air, but the house looked warm and inviting with the tree, the wreath on the door and even green garland that MaryAnne had draped on the railing of the porch.

Christmas was two days away and Brian found himself both looking forward to it and apprehensive about it. He had bought a couple of gifts for his cousins, nothing spectacular but special in their own way and had seen a few gifts with his name on them under the tree. He listened to MaryAnne talk about the Christmas dinner she was going to help Lulu prepare this year and he could taste everything already.

The one thing he noticed though was that there was quite a Coltrane tradition when it came to the holidays. A tradition he didn’t have growing up and something he felt awkward about becoming a part of now. The tree had decorations that dated back to Rosco’s youth, some store bought, others hand made, noted with the initial RPC and a date. There were some MaryAnne had made too, noted with her initials and a date and what grade she had been in school. Brian had got a chuckle out of seeing the ornaments as he removed them from the box and handed them to MaryAnne to be placed on the tree when they decorated it the week before.

“These are antiques, ya know,” she had said. “Especially the one’s Rosco made.”

“Antiques or ancient artifacts?” Brian had joked which got a chuckle from MaryAnne and a stern but non-threatening look from Rosco.

Although decorating the tree had been a hoot, Brian often thought of the fact that there wasn’t anything hanging on one of those branches that was unique to him. He thought to maybe rectify that situation by Christmas day, however.

Despite his mixed emotions, Brian felt good to be in Hazzard at this time of the year and with his kin. He took a moment to gaze at the lights of the tree through the window as he stepped up onto the porch. He then opened the door and was immediately greeted by Flash and Bandit, barking and running to the door.

“Hey ya mutts!” he exclaimed, fighting his way into the doorway. “I suppose y’all are practicing for Santa’s big arrival, that it?” He took a moment to appropriately greet the dogs with pats and scratches behind their ears. He then looked up and saw MaryAnne standing in the hall way, an apron wrapped around her waist over her deputies uniform and a towel in her hands.

“Can’t beat the welcoming committee,” she said with a grin.

“Nope. Khee!” Brian gently shooed the dogs into the living room and they retreated to their rightful spots in front of the Christmas tree.

“Hungry?” MaryAnne asked.

“Starved.”

“Good. Steak’s just about ready.”

He smiled. “Where’s Rosco?”

“Upstairs.”

“Well, he better be outta that bathroom by the time I get to the top step!” Brian lunged toward the stairs and started going up, skipping a step each time.

“I heard that!” Rosco called from the top landing. He grinned and met Brian at the top of the stairs.

“Pardon me, Sheriff, I got a date with a steak dinner and I don’t wanna be late,” Brian said.

“Khee!”

“If I ever have my own cooking show, I want you two in the front row of the audience!” MaryAnne hollered up the stairs.

“You know we would be!” Brian called back.

Rosco came down the stairs. “He and I are just thankful you can cook. Because neither one of us trusts the other can.”

“I heard that!” Brian called from upstairs.

Rosco looked upwards and then at MaryAnne. “I can only do one serving of Mafia Chili.”

MaryAnne snorted and smiled at Rosco before heading back to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, the Coltrane family was seated at the dinner table. They paused a moment for a short prayer, lead by Rosco this evening and then they started in on their meal.

“Well,” Rosco said. “Two more sleeps.”

MaryAnne grinned. “Yep.”

“Two more….?” Brian said. “Oh, nevermind.” He chuckled.

“You know, I was thinking since we gotta work Monday and then work again on Wednesday we should just get up our regular time on Tuesday,” MaryAnne said.

Rosco looked at her. “Oh really? You? Get up early on a day off?”

MaryAnne smiled. “Shoot, I used to get up early on Christmas morning. I used to get up before Papa. I learned to make coffee at an early age so he’d have it first thing Christmas morning.”

Brian grinned. “Up at the crack of dawn huh?”

“Yep!”

“Ain’t nothin’ changed,” Rosco said. “She was up at the crack of dawn last year.”

“Only because I had to do the early patrol….which reminds me. Who’s doing it this year?”

Rosco hesitated.

“Rosco…”

Brain laughed. “C’mon, Sheriff, who’s doing the early patrol Christmas morning?”

“If you say me, yer gonna git coal in your stocking,” MaryAnne lightly threatened.

Rosco chuckled. “Awright, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” MaryAnne said with a smile.

“I, fortunately, don’t have to worry about being up early on Christmas,” Brian said. “I was thinkin’ of getting up, oh, around noon time. That sound good?”

“Sure,” MaryAnne said.” Just remember we have to be at Boss’s house by 4 for dinner.”

“Heh heh, not a problem.”

What Brian didn’t see, however, was the look in MaryAnne’s eye as she shot a glance towards Rosco. If he had seen it, he would have known he wouldn’t be sleeping until noon on Christmas day.

“I was extended an invitation today,” MaryAnne continued. “The Dukes would like us to join them this year for Christmas Eve at their farm.”

Brian stopped chewing. “All three of us?”

“Yep. All three of us.”

“Hmm.”

MaryAnne chuckled. “It’ll be fun, Brian. Trust me.”

“If you say so.” Although the Dukes and Brian were cordial at best to each other, the reason why they would invite him to their farm on Christmas eve completely escaped the ex-criminal. He shrugged. Well, what harm would it do anyway?

The Sunday evening passed peacefully. Brian spent most of it sitting in the living room, admiring the lights on the tree and watching TV with Flash and Rosco while MaryAnne did her patrol. Later in the evening, MaryAnne returned, humming a Christmas tune as she came into the door.

“I’m so glad Elton’s playin’ Christmas music,” she said with a smile. “Otherwise, I’d have to go to town and make a special request. In person. Khee!”

Rosco and Brian both smiled. “She’d do it too,” Rosco said. “Next thing you know we’d have Hazzard’s Holiday Classics with your host, MaryAnne Coltrane.”

“Making it the highest rated radio program in WHOGG history. Khee!” Brian said.

“Eggsactly!” MaryAnne said.

Rosco snorted. “You mean making it the ONLY rated radio program in WHOGG history.”

The cousins laughed.

***

Brian found MaryAnne’s Christmas spirit contagious somehow. The local radio station was tuned in on Diablo’s dash the next morning and Christmas music was playing, to which Brian found himself softly humming along and then eventually joining in with full orchestration and three part harmony.

“Ring Christmas Bells…la la la la la la la….man, wish I knew the words to this one…”

He noticed folks around town seemed to be in a different kind of mood. Even old man Avery was a little more spirited than usual, as he handed Brian the manifest for the load of eggs they had finished loading onto the old Dodge pick up.

“Here ya go,” Mr. Avery said, handing Brian the documents. “Make sure you get to the train depot by nine thirty and hand them papers to Sunshine at the dock. He and Dorcey will help ya unload the truck. And be careful! Any one of them egg cartons breaks, that’s less money I get for my troubles.”

Brian nodded and smiled. “Don’t worry, Mr. Avery.”

“Awright, you better git movin’. And when ya bring the truck back don’t go takin’ off right away. I got something for ya when ya git back.”

Brian nodded, oblivious. “Okay.” He walked to the truck and soon the old Dodge was slowly rumbling out of the yard.

The Dodge made it to town and the eggs were unscathed. Brian smiled at Sunshine and handed the clerk the manifest. Thirty minutes later, the truck was unloaded and the eggs were on their way to the processing plant in Atlanta. Sunshine handed Brian the receipt of the manifest and wished him a Merry Christmas.

“You too,” Brian said.

“Say hello to Rosco and MaryAnne for me,” Sunshine said.

“I will.”

Brian drove back to Avery’s farm and parked the truck by the barn. He found old man Avery inside and handed him the receipt.

“Not an egg was broken, I’ll have you know. Every carton’s on it’s way to Atlanta.”

Mr. Avery smiled. “Good to hear!” He tucked the receipt into the pocket of his bib overalls and wagged a finger at Brian to follow him. “Said I got somethin’ for ya. C’mon.”

Brian followed Mr. Avery to the house and into the kitchen. The room was warm with the smell of pecan pie and pralines. Mrs. Avery had been busy cooking and baking all day. Brian was sure that whoever was to receive the bounty of her culinary work, was going to enjoy it, probably a lot more than he was just enjoying the scents. Mr. Avery opened a drawer and removed an envelope.

“There ya go,” he said, handing Brian the envelope. ” If I was you, tho’ I’d wait and open it tomorrow.”

Brian paused, looking at the envelope. “Mr. Avery if this is a gift of some sort…”

“It’s what you city boys would call a Christmas bonus.”

Brian wasn’t quite sure what Mr. Avery meant by that. The only “Christmas Bonus” he was familiar with was getting a round of drinks free at the Jigsaw on Christmas Eve. But he smiled at Mr. Avery anyway and nodded.

“Merry Christmas, Brian.” Mr. Avery put his hand out.

“Thank you,” Brian said. He shook the man’s hand. “Merry Christmas to you as well.”

Mr. Avery nodded and saw Brian out. Brian walked over to Diablo and slid into the driver’s seat of his faithful Chevy. He looked at the envelope for a while, even held it up to the light to try to see through it, but Mr. Avery had used one of those security envelopes. This surprised Brain. Then again, there were things about Mr. Avery that had surprised Brian often. Especially since the old man was the first person in Hazzard to trust Brian with a job. Brian, however, was privately thankful to Mr. Avery for the chance.

Diablo rumbled over the dirt roads and headed towards town. The day had started grey and raw and now there was fog adding to the mix. This was the kind of weather that couldn’t decide if it was to rain or possibly snow, so instead it just hung there as if waiting for a cue. Brian clicked on the Impala’s parking lamps and the orange lights distinguished the car through the fog.

Brian wasn’t aware he had turned the radio back on when he suddenly heard a voice in the car…

“Rockin’ around the Christmas tree, at the Christmas party hop. Mistletoe hung where you can see, every couple tries to stop…”

It took a moment, before Brian realized that his car radio wasn’t on. But his CB was. And the voice coming through it belonged to none other than MaryAnne who was singing along with the song in the background. Brian almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He turned on Diablo’s radio and adjusted the volume enough to hear the music with MaryAnne singing on the CB.

“Rockin’ around the Christmas tree, have a happy holiday. Everyone dancin’ merrily in the new. Old. Faaash-ioned waaaaaay…”

MaryAnne held the last note with Brenda Lee and when the song ended the Hazzard Net awoke with applause.

“Yeeha! Nicely done, MaryAnne!”

“Merry Christmas, MaryAnne!”

“Sounded great, sweetheart! Khee!”

“MaryAnne! You should sing at the Boar’s Nest!”

“Excellent idea! It might bring in more folks! And more money for me–er, the Boar’s Nest!”

Brian laughed and picked up his CB mike waiting for a break in the chatter. When it came he pushed the talk button. “Now I know why they call you Songbird, cousin.”

“That’s why. Khee! Welcome to my Christmas song, I’d like to thank you for the year…”

The End

By:  Jax

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire… Jack Frost nipping at your nose…

An aged turntable sat on an equally old card table, the plastic lid propped up as the 33 record spun slowly, and the infamous Christmas song crackling through the speakers. The Duke farmhouse had been redressed for the upcoming holiday, an evergreen wreath and pine cones hung on the door; the front of the house had been covered with lights that were carefully wrapped around the roof and up to the chimney, then back down the other side.

The Christmas décor had not been limited to the just the outside, the inside had been hit with yuletide cheer as well. In the center of the living room a pine tree stood, its fresh scent wafting through every room of the house. The proud tree had been covered with not only generations of Duke ornaments, but strings of real popcorn and cranberries, and a hand carved wooden star sat on the very top. Around the home, Daisy had placed many pots of bright poinsettias, the red flowers stood out amongst the pine cone and evergreen garland that ran along every wall, like Christmas colored tentacles that stretched out in every direction.

Santa’s on his way…He’s bringing lots of toys…

Luke Duke sang as he stood in the bathroom, his voice echoing off the walls. He wore bright puffy red pants and black boots, and then turned to pick up the coat that lay flung over the shower curtain rod. His soft singing turned to humming as he slipped on the Santa coat and adjusted the collar in the full length mirror behind the door. Luke buttoned up the heavy coat and ran his hands down the smooth velvet, smiling a little at his reflection. On the sink behind him lay his red hat; he picked it up and ran his hand through his dark hair a moment before slipping it on.

“Bo!” He called out as he began to fuss with the hat turning his head from one side to the other, trying to tuck in all traces of his dark hair.  “Bo, how’s it going?”

Hearing no reply, Luke sighed as left the bathroom and went to the room he shared with his cousin and knocked.

“Bo, did you hear me?”

“Yeah Luke, I hear you–” Came the grumble from inside that made the dark haired Duke crease his brow.

“So are you almost ready or not?”

“I ain’t going!”

“Bo…” Luke sighed as he put his hands on his hips and raised his gaze up towards the ceiling. He closed his eyes briefly and took in a patient breath.

“We promised Uncle Jesse we would and I won the coin toss fair and square. Now quit complaining and come on out of there!”

“I don’t see why you can’t do this! I’m more built to be Santa than you!”

Scoffing at that, Luke shook his head. “Since when? Who’s ever heard of a lanky Santa?”

“Hazzard might, cause I ain’t going out like this! No way Luke!”

Luke sighed and touched the pocket of his pants; he pulled out a pocket watch and opened it to check the time. Running short on both time and patience, Luke snapped his watch closed.

“Bo we ain’t got time for this! Will you just knock it off and open the door? How bad can it be?”

The door to the room the boys shared began to open, one blue eye appearing in the crack.

“Bo Duke, get your tail out of there right now!” Luke ordered as he stepped back.

Seeing the look on his cousin’s face, the door opened slightly more; one green felt booted foot stepped out, a bright silver bell sewn to the tip of the pointy shoe.

Luke eyebrows went up at the slight jingle of the bell as Bo’s other foot joined it. He took in a deep breath as a bright red and white candy cane striped tights caught his eyes as his gaze traveled up the lanky body of his cousin. The shorts that Bo wore were a deep shade of Christmas tree green. They came to mid thigh, the ends of they slightly flared. The matching shirt had a V-neck shape, the tops of his shoulders also with the same flared out design.

“That bad–” Luke whispered as he saw the pointed green felt hat on his cousin’s head. His lips twitched a moment and he wiped his hand over his mouth. The fact his cousin resembled a tall blond Peter Pan made his eyes squeeze shut.

Bo’s dark blue eyes narrowed as he saw his cousin trying not to laugh.

“Don’t even think about it Luke!”

“Think about what?” Luke asked in a shaky breath, his cool blue eyes watering as he struggled not to burst out into laughter.

“Laughing! Cause it aint funny!”

Luke finally managed to get himself under control; he started to open his mouth when the back kitchen door opened, and a pair of familiar clacks reached both set of Duke ears.

“Bo! Luke! You fellas ready?”

Bo’s eyes widened, determined not to have his cousin see him this way. He started to make a bee-line for the bedroom when Luke grabbed him by the arm.

“Ah! You’re not going anywhere!”

“Bo! Luke! Come on, Uncle Jesse’s waiting!” Daisy stepped out into the living room, smiling as she saw her cousins. Dressed in all in red, Daisy had on a long skirt with a candy cane striped border along the bottom of it. The apron she wore around her waist, the mobcap that covered the top of her long grey hair, and the top of her long sleeved red blouse all had the same candy cane stripes. The last compliments to her outfit were a pair of gold rimmed wire glasses that sat on the end of Daisy’s nose, and a white knitted shawl hung from her shoulders.

“Oh you both look great!” Daisy grinned as she went over to Luke and made a slight adjustment to his wig, then took the hat on his head and put it on him.

“There, now you look perfect.” She then turned her gaze to Bo, whose face matched the red in his cousin’s Santa suit. His blushing cheeks only made her grin and give them a pinch.

“What a fine elf you have here, Santa.”

“Well he doesn’t look as good as you do, Mrs. Claus, but he’ll do,” Luke teased as he gazed at Bo, trying to make his cousin smile.

“I told you I’m not going; Santa will have to make do with just the Mrs.” Bo started to head for the bedroom when Luke once again grabbed his arm.

“Those orphans are expecting us and so is Uncle Jesse.”

“But this is embarrassing! And I look like a dipstick in this getup!” Bo then gazed at Daisy, hoping she’d help. Instead, his cousin crossed her arms over her chest and scowled.

“Luke’s right, we’ve been planning this for six months and now you want to ruin it?”

“No one said I’d have to dress up as Peter Pan!”

“What else do elves wear Bo? And besides…if you can’t embarrass yourself for the sake of family and orphans…who can you embarrass yourself for? You know this will make those kids have a good holiday.” Luke let go of Bo’s arm.

“But…it’s up to you. If you want to disappoint Uncle Jesse and those kids, that’s your decision.”

Luke went into the bedroom and came out with a red sack; he slung it over his shoulder and motioned to Daisy with his chin.

“Come on, let’s get to the General–”

Daisy gazed at her cousin once, then nodded to Luke as they both turned away and headed out into the kitchen. Bo watched them a moment and put his hands on his hips. They were right, they had gone through a lot of time and trouble for the sake of the orphans and embarrassed or not, he agreed to be an elf.  He also pictured his Uncle’s face, the disappointment that would furrow his brows and make his mouth into a thin line. Bo couldn’t bear that look of heartbreak on the older man’s face; he tipped his chin up a moment and sighed heavily, his eyes closing.

“All right! All right!” He called out as he went after his cousins.

“Luke! Daisy!” He shouted after them, not wanting them to drive off in the General Lee without him. Bo went into the kitchen and stopped in mid step when he saw both his cousins standing by the back door. Luke stood sideways, his shoulder against the doorframe. He had watch in his hand and checked the time.

“A new record Bo, only took you fifteen seconds to realize how upset Uncle Jesse would be if you didn’t show up.” Grinning at once again seeing his cousin’s face redden, Luke snapped the watch closed and put an arm around Bo’s shoulders.

“Come on Cousin, the orphans are waiting.”

Daisy slipped her arm around Bo’s waist, her head touching to his shoulder as the three Dukes headed out the door.

***********

“Oh Daisy…I got butterflies in my stomach!” Emma Tizdale proclaimed as she stood on a small stool, the pedestal perched on the back of a big wooden platform. The forward half had the thick red velvet curtain suspended from the ceiling. The older woman heard the murmurings of the crowd gathered from behind it and wrung her hands together.

Daisy reached up and put a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re going to do just fine Miss Tizdale; all of Hazzard has come out to see you.” Their eyes met and Daisy gave her the most reassuring smile she could. Her head lowered as she went back to her task, fixing the candy cane colored trim at the bottom of the long red dress. Both women were dressed the same, as Mrs. Claus, the only difference being that one was young and the other old.

Straightening up, Daisy turned from the stool and went over to a long rack that held costumes. She pulled out a hanger with a snow white knitted shawl.

“We just need a few last final touches and you’ll be ready for your scene with Uncle Jesse.”

“Mrs. Duke–” Emma sighed heavily, and then brought her folded hands up to one cheek, her eyes growing bright. She then heard her own words and blinked a moment straightening up.

“I mean Mrs. Claus!”

Glancing over her shoulder, Daisy’s eyes widened a little at what Miss Tizdale said, but the suddenly red face of the older woman made her smile.

“Well, guess I won’t have to add any blush to your face Miss Tizdale, Uncle Jesse did it for me.”

Emma’s face only darkened more and she put her hands to her cheeks.

“That man can get to me and he ain’t even in the room!”

Daisy went back over to the stool and offered her hand. Taking the older woman by one elbow, she helped her step down to the stage.

“There, now let’s get you ready for your big scene.” Draping the white shawl around her shoulders, Daisy walked around Emma; she tied the ends of the shawl in a loose knot and adjusted it. She then went over to a card table that had been set up, it sat beside the costume wrack; the top of it littered with various Christmas props. Staring down at the wooden toys, tools and stacks of Christmas letters, Daisy creased her brow.

“Now where is your tray?” Looking around Daisy went to the other side of the room and stepped down from the wooden platform, she headed across the floor of the large playroom where the stage had been built and disappeared into a room. She emerged a moment later with a red tray and a white mug full of hot chocolate.

“Here we go; Bo and Luke had left it in the kitchen.”

Emma watched as the younger woman crossed the room, the smile on her face softening at the mention of the boys.

“Those two have been put so much work into this. They practically did everything themselves to make this season good for those youngsters.”

“You’re right, they have.” Daisy handed Miss Tizdale the tray and stepped back, she took one look at the costumer, her gaze going from the top of the postal Mistress’ head to her feet.

“I think you’re all set.” She reached out and put a hand on Miss Tizdale’s shoulder; they both walked quietly to the back of the red curtain and waited. A moment later, a loud click went off as the lights in the orphanage went out.

Taking in a deep breath, Emma swallowed hard as a second click went off and a spot beam shone down on the stage.

******************

The soft chime of a music box went off as the spot beam’s light cast down on one Jesse Duke. He sat in a big plush red chair, dressed in the traditional red and white of Santa Claus. The red cap sat on his lap, his snow white hair visible as he gazed off in the distance, seemingly far off in thought. From the side came his wife, a proud smile on her face as she approached him. She stopped right by his chair and handed him the mug on top of the tray.

“You seem like you got something on your mind Santa, care to share with the Mrs.?”

Jesse turned his gaze to Emma and a soft smile came to his face. He took the mug and had a sip licking his lips a moment as he stared down into the brown liquid.

“Just thinking about how things have changed.” He set his cocoa down on the floor then reached out and took the tray from her hand and set it down the side of his chair. Jesse then reached out and tugged the older woman closer.

“Remember how things were all those years ago?” He leaned into her a little, his head pressed into her shoulder.

Emma nodded, then propped her chin on the top of Jesse’s snow white head. Her expression softened as she touched her hand to his hair and combed it with her small fingers.

“I remember…seems so long ago.”

Nodding, Jesse took in a deep breath. “So many Christmas’ have come and gone since that time. So many children I’ve made happy and so many toys I’ve delivered…”

“So much good you’ve done.” Emma kissed Jesse’s head then turned to rest her cheek against his white hair, now her gaze too growing far away.

“I remember that very first one. We were so young. I didn’t think we’d ever make it…” Her voice began to soften and trail off at the same time the light that shone down on them both began to fade. Behind them, the heavy curtain began to part.

**********************

Bo sat on the same stool Miss Tizdale had stood on, a card table sat in front of him. He had a hammer in his hands as he worked away on a small wooden train. His aim off, the hammer came down on his thumb and he cried out, then hopped off the stool bouncing around, his wounded hand between his knees; his face twisted in pain. Finally he stilled and shook his hand out, sucking on his injured finger.

“Dang it!”

“What’s the problem now?” Luke came from the side, dressed in his Santa suit. He saw Bo with his finger in his mouth and reached out to grip his wrist.

“You act like you’ve never used a hammer before.” He said as he examined Bo’s hand then shook his head.

“Be thankful you got nine more.”

“Nine more I can flatten, you mean.” Bo sighed as he sat back down. “Are you sure we can do this?”

Luke pulled a scroll from his coat and unrolled it, the long paper cascading down the length of his body and several feet down the stage before finally coming to a stop.

“These kids are counting on me.” Luke then turned to look at his cousin.

“And I’m counting on you to get it done.” He rolled the long list back up and handed it to Bo.

“I can’t do this without you.”

Bo gazed down at the paper and sighed, but then gave a nod.

“We won’t let you down, Santa.”

Returning the nod, Luke turned and walked off the stage. Bo sighed as he opened part of the list and read.

“Toy train, car, doll–” Bo shook his head slowly, the task before him and the other elves seemed impossible but Santa was right, there were lots of kids counting on him for a Merry Christmas.

“Can’t disappoint the kids.” Bo muttered as the curtain once again closed.

*************************

Luke sat in the plushy chair in the same pose that Uncle Jesse had been in. His hat gone from the top of his head, he gazed down at his lap and played with the white fur trim of his coat.

“I know that look.” Daisy crouched down beside the chair; she reached out and took a hold of Luke’s hand.

“Just wondering if I’m in over my head, wondering if I can really do this.”

Daisy smiled and nodded. “We all have talents, and yours was Heaven sent. I know you can do this.”

“I’ve asked a lot of the elves, given them a mile long list and hardly no time at all to fill it.”

“They can do it, they love making kids happy as much as you do.” Daisy leaned forward and kissed the top of Luke’s head.

“Don’t worry Santa; it’s going to be okay.”

Gazing at his cousin, Luke managed a small smile. “How’d I end up so lucky Mrs. Claus?” He teased and Daisy gave a shrug.

“I always loved a man in uniform.” She winked as she stood up and stretched out her hand.

Luke threw his head back and laughed as he took Daisy’s hand and stood up, the two of them walking off to the side and slipping behind the shut curtain.

************************

A sea of toys greeted the audience as the heavy drapes parted; the murmurings were of amazement at the amount of dolls, cars, board games, and other that toys covered almost every usable inch of the huge wooden platform. Bo emerged from the side, his face and clothes stained with paint and dirt. He looked exhausted, but bore a proud grin on his lips as he wiped his brow.

“What in the world?”  Luke exclaimed as he came into view, his face astonished.

“You and the elves did all this?” He looked around in amazement.

“Yes sir we did.” Bo grinned as he put his hands on his hips. “Took a lot of work, but we used hind ends and elbows to get it done.”

“Oh my goodness!” A third voice joined the conversation as Daisy came out; she touched her hand to her mouth as she gazed at the mountain of toys.

“Santa…” She said softly; Luke turned to look at her and drew her into a hug.

“I know, I had my doubts about being able to do this, but now…”

“I never doubted you–” Daisy wrapped her arms around her cousin, then went and gave Bo a kiss on the cheek.

“You’ve done a good job, and a lot of kids are going to be happy Christmas morning.”

Luke nodded in agreement as he draped his arm around Daisy’s shoulder, then Bo’s waist.

“Thank you, both of you. I couldn’t have done this without you.” He drew them both closer to him and closed his eyes, a look of both joy and relief on his face.

**********************

“That was a truly magical Christmas, though they all have been since that first one,” Emma said as she sat on the arm of Jesse’s chair, her arm around his shoulder.

“All those years you’ve always been here with me, I couldn’t have done it without you.” Jesse kissed Emma on the cheek, and the older woman giggled.

“Oh you say that every year!”

“I mean it every year!” Jesse put his arms around Emma, chuckling.

She returned the hug, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas Santa, Lord knows you deserve more than cookies and milk on Christmas Eve. Its not only toys you bring but love and friendship, laughter and tears of joy. The world owes you a lot for reminding us what Christmas is all about…love.Whether it’s the love between family, or the love between friends, its still love.”

Jesse listened to her; he closed his eyes a smile on his face.

“Amen to that…”

He said softly and gave a heartfelt sigh.

****************************

The backdoor to the farmhouse opened and a weary Jesse flipped on the kitchen light. No longer in his red suit but back in his overalls, he hung his red cap up and went over to the stove, turning on the coffee pot.

“What a night.”

“You can say that again, Uncle Jesse.” Bo said as he came in. He had left his green elf clothes behind, and was now clad in jeans and a white shirt.

“But a good night.” Luke slung a garment bag over the bag of the chair and ran his hands over his face. “Can you believe how those kids took all those toys?” He said as he sat down in a chair, his elbows on the table.

“They loved them, made me feel so good.” Daisy closed the back door and braced a hand on the back of Luke’s chair; she reached down and slipped off her heels, then gave each foot a rub.

“Yeah…it was worth it.” Bo went to help his uncle, getting the jar of cookies down and setting it in the middle of the table. Luke watched him a moment and scoffed.

“Funny, you didn’t seem to think so earlier. You were ready to stay home.”

Bo gave a sheepish smile and shrugged his shoulders.

“Even a Duke can be wrong.” He said as he pulled out a chair beside his cousin and sat down.

Daisy snickered as that as she set her shoes aside. She no longer wore her Mrs. Claus dress, having traded it for jeans and a light pink shirt. She went over to the stove and picked up the coffee pot.

“I got it Uncle Jesse, just sit down. You’ve done enough for one night.”

“I didn’t do anything that special Daisy.” Jesse got four mugs and brought them to the table, then passed them out.

“Now Jesse you know that’s not true. You organized that whole thing and we’ve been gathering toys for close to a month.” Luke reached out to get the cookie jar and took off the lid. “Those kids at the orphanage would have a pretty sad Christmas morning if not for you.”

“I had help, Luke.” Jesse gave his nephew a smile.

Daisy brought the coffee pot over and poured everyone a cup, her hand on her Uncle’s shoulder as she did so. She leaned over and rested her head on the top of his.

“I don’t know about you all, but I think we need some Christmas music, don’t you?”

Jesse put his arm around Daisy’s waist and nodded. “Yeah, its Christmas Eve after all, we can listen to some songs.” He gazed at each one of the boys, his eyes a little wide.

“And then its off to bed before Santa comes.”

Bo shook his head and began to laugh. “Aw come on Uncle Jesse, Luke and me know ain’t no such thing as Santa.”

“Well sure there is…don’t you believe?”

“Cousin?” Bo asked as he looked across the table at Luke.

“I don’t know, I guess it could be possible.” Luke dipped a cookie in his coffee before having a bite.

“I believe you Uncle Jesse; I don’t want to end up with coal in my stocking.” Daisy laughed as she went to put the record on. She headed out of the kitchen and then gasped as her gaze fell on the tree.

“Uncle Jesse! Bo! Luke! Come here quick!”

Three chairs got knocked over at the sound of Daisy’s exclamation. The three men came around from the kitchen into the living room, and stopped dead in their tracks.

“Holy Smokes…” Luke stated in a whisper.

“Can you believe that?” Bo said beside him as he and his cousin turned to look at one another, then turned to look at their uncle.

“Uncle Jesse, did you…?”

Jesse stepped closer to the tree, the bottom of it loaded with boxes of every shape and size. He gazed at all the bright paper and ribbons that covered every gift and shook his head slowly.

“It wasn’t me boys, there’s no way I could have afforded all this.”

Daisy knelt down by the tree and began to pull out the gifts. “They’re all addressed to each one of us.”

“And look at that.” Bo pointed to the coffee table, the surface covered with cookies and fruitcake, a big covered ham also set on the table.

“Wow, Christmas dinner too.” Luke went over to the table and picked up a wrapped candy cane. “Someone sure went through a lot of trouble.”

“But who?”

Jesse shook his head as he sat on the arm of the sofa. “Guess there really is a Santa Claus.”

 

From the living room window, a pair of eyes peered in. There came a familiar giggle, and a shushing sound.

“Rosco…hush! That giggle of yours is going to give us away!”

“Sorry Boss.” Rosco watched the Dukes astonishment and grinned. “I got to hand it you Boss, the Dukes look shook up.”

“I know Rosco, that’s the idea.” Boss gazed in through the window at his old friend, his dark eyes holding a long affection.

“You ain’t the only one that can play Santa Jesse.” He whispered then straightened up; he held his white hat in his hands and planted it on the top of his head.

“Come on Rosco; let’s get out of here before they spot us.”

Rosco nodded as he leaned over a little, literally tip toeing as they passed the living room window.

“I just love this time of year Boss.”

“Hush!” Boss told him again as the pair crept past the back door and headed around the house to where Rosco’s patrol car had been parked. They were about to open the doors when the Duke porch light went off.

“Well…look who’s here!”

Whipping around, both Rosco and Boss saw the Dukes all coming out of the back door. Jesse grinned as he saw them and stepped down to the ground.

“You two are just in time, we were about to start some Christmas celebrating.”

Boss and Rosco gazed at one another, and Boss nodded.

“That’s right, just thought Rosco and I would come by and wish you all a Merry Christmas, right Rosco?” Boss narrowed his eyes a little and Rosco nodded empathically.

“Right, that’s right.”

Luke stood with his arms crossed over his chest; he gazed at his cousins a moment then nodded. “Well then come on in, we got plenty of food.”

Daisy had her arm around Bo’s waist; she went over to Boss and Rosco and gave them both a hug.

“More than enough for the two of you.”

Boss returned Daisy’s hug. “All right, if you Dukes insist, we’d be more than happy to join you.”

“Good then it’s all settled.” Jesse patted Boss on the back and motioned to the house.

“Let’s get to it.”

Bo held the screen door open, smiling as everyone went back inside. He went in behind Luke, an arm around his shoulders.

 

From inside the Duke farmhouse, the record player began to play accompanied by sounds of laughter and holiday cheer…

END.

by: Sarah Stodola and LostSheep3

A light snow was falling as the General Lee pulled to a stop in front of the Duke homestead. The driver slid out the window, opened the trunk, and pulled out several shopping bags. Taking the bags into the house, he set them by the door, took off his boots and coat, then shook snow out of his blond hair. After starting a pot of coffee, he wandered with the packages into the living room, setting them near the tree.

After starting a fire in the grate and plugging in the Christmas tree lights, Bo Duke settled himself on the floor in front of the tree, opened the first bag, and pulled out several rolls of brightly colored Christmas wrapping paper. Then he went digging through the other bags and pulled out several items planned as gifts, determined to wrap these before Luke got home so that the surprise wouldn’t be ruined.

Humming as he looked through the paper, Bo chose a dark blue one with white snowflakes printed on it. He opened the roll and set the first gift in the center of the paper, pulling the paper up over the gift to get it to the right size. Taking the knife from the sheath on his belt and testing the sharpness briefly against his thumb, he cut the paper to the correct size, placed the package back in the center, and folded the paper up around the box, taping the package together. Once the box was wrapped to his satisfaction, the blond man placed the present under the tree.

Half an hour later, all the gifts for Luke were wrapped and spread under the tree. Bo stood up, smiling at the sight, one that had been well too long in coming. With Uncle Jesse passed now, and Daisy off and married to Enos Strate, the Duke boys had found themselves still confirmed old bachelors… and, unfortunately, getting older. After about a decade of life split apart, out of Hazzard chasing old dreams, the two men had finally been brought back to the old farm, and together again as well. Life was… good enough with Luke, even if the younger women didn’t quite fall over him the way they used to, and the older ones were married. At least the cousins weren’t alone.

Shaking himself out of his musings, Bo went to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee, and then settled into a corner of the couch, contemplating the Christmas tree with the brightly wrapped packages underneath. As he watched the lights twinkle gently, his mind drifted to Christmases past. Christmas on the Duke farm had always been a time of happiness and family. They had never had too much in the way of material goods, although they had enough, but somehow it never seemed to matter. They always had family and friends around… and that was enough.

Bo was so lost in his thoughts that he was startled when the door opened. Looking into the kitchen, he smiled when he saw Luke come into the house. His older cousin grinned back a bit, looking cold but amused, and shaking snow from his dark hair and jacket.

“I daresay the chickens have decided that the freeze-over calls for a strike. Not only have there been no eggs for five days, they’re now refusing to set one toe outta the barn.”

“I can’t say I blame them,” Bo said, blue eyes sparkling in laughter. “I probably wouldn’t go outside if it weren’t for chores and needing to finish Christmas shopping.”

“Christmas shopping?” Dark eyebrows rose, the eyes beneath twinkling mischievously. Luke peered past toward the tree and the new gifts. “Aha… looks like somethin’ more to go shake and poke after you go to bed.” With a teasing wink, the older cousin hung up his coat and turned to pour a cup of coffee from the coffee maker, one of the few more modern conveniences the farmhouse had. For the most part, it hadn’t changed a lot since the Dukes’ youth, despite the turning of the century.

“Don’t you dare!” Bo replied, twisting on the sofa to watch his older cousin. “You’ll break somethin’ or ruin the surprise.” The blond paused a moment, taking a sip of his coffee, then chuckled. “You never could resist tryin’ to guess what you were getting.”

“Why not…” Luke brought his coffee mug out into the living room, taking a sip as he paused to eye the gifts, and the tree above, thoughtfully. “Seems I can remember years when we had twice the people and half the presents…” he mused quietly. “Guess we ain’t doin’ so bad nowadays, are we? Still… I’d trade it…”

Bo’s smile faded slightly with the remembering. “So would I, cousin.” Clutching the coffee mug in both hands, he looked up. Luke’s head tilted at the blond man for a moment, then he made a quiet sound in his throat, not quite translatable into words but expressing agreement and a mix of quiet emotions, and turned to come sit beside his cousin on the couch, stretching his legs out. He glanced to the tree again, then into the fire, watching the flames.

Bo stared at the tree and the packages underneath for a few long moments, the silence comfortable after having lived together for so long. When he spoke again, it was with a mixture of fond remembrance and a slight sadness.

“Remember the year I was twelve, and got my guitar… Daisy helped Jesse hide clues all over the house and while I was following their trail you put it in our room. I’ll never forget finding that laying on my bed… it was the one thing I really wanted that year and I didn’t think I’d get it.”

Luke glanced at his cousin as he spoke, listening thoughtfully, and smiling a bit finally. “Yeah… I remember that. You’d only dropped hints about every half-week for four months… and broke the strings on mine a coupla times learnin’.” More of a smile graced rugged features, his eyes warming quietly as he recalled that winter, so long ago.

Bo chuckled softly. “Yeah, I did drop hints, but didn’t expect to actually get one.” He glanced at his cousin, dark blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “And I did replace your strings. Saved all my money and got you a new set for Christmas.”

The older man chuckled, tilting his head acknowledgingly. “That you did. Bet that was probably your favorite Christmas present of all time. You had that guitar for… a long time.”

“It’s right up there with my favorites of all time.” Bo looked back at the tree before speaking again. “I still have it. I don’t play it much anymore, the one I have now is more suited to what I do now, but I couldn’t bear to part with it.”

“What was your favorite, that you can remember?” Luke asked curiously, taking a sip of coffee and half-turning where he sat to more face his companion, one knee brought up on the cushions.

Bo glanced to Luke, smiling slightly. “You first…what was one of your favorite presents?”

“Mine, huh… hm.” Luke sat back a bit more, taking another sip of coffee to stall and glancing toward the fire, thinking. “Well… the year I got tickets to the Atlanta raceway was somethin’ special. One of my clearest memories, though, was bein’ very young and getting’ my own ornament to put on the tree. Remember, the ornaments with our names on ’em?” He glanced to his cousin. “I think we still have ’em, somewhere… Anyway, that one has kinda a special place cause it was my first year at the farm, with Uncle Jesse. Little was I to know how tough bein’ here with annoying little guys like you would be.” He quirked a teasing smile, eyes glinting a bit.

Bo chuckled at that. “You seemed to adjust all right… since you’re still putting up with me.” His eyes softened as he thought back to younger days. “I remember those ornaments… I was so young when I got mine that I don’t really remember getting it… but I do remember when I was 4 or 5 years old, Jesse told me to get mine to hang up. I remember how he smiled when I actually came back with the right one on the first try.” He laughed softly. “I’m still not sure if I recognized my name or just the color…”

Luke’s smile quietened as he watched his cousin reminisce. “Yeah…” A few seconds’ silence fell, mind in the past, then he spoke again. “I can remember Christmases when we were that little… Jesse helpin’ Daisy not burn the cookies… you and I lugging firewood and egg and milk pails around like they weighed fifty pounds.” The smile grew a bit, with a slight chuckle, then he took a breath and let it out in a sigh. “We need to go find those things; I think I remember where in the attic Jesse stashed ’em. Be nice to put ’em up again…” He glanced out the window, at the darkened evening sky, pondering the cold of the attic room. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“I’d like to have those up again…” Bo swallowed slightly, the memories Luke spoke of so close to the surface, then spoke again after a moment, eyes focused on the Christmas tree in the corner. “I remember how when we got older, Jesse would let us go into the woods to drag the tree home. Remember the first year he trusted us to pick out the tree? I think we got about the scraggliest one we could find…” He chuckled slightly. “He made us put it up anyway… and it didn’t look bad after we got the ornaments and tinsel on it. It was one of my favorites…”

The smile showed again, quietly, in remembrance both sweet and bittersweet. “Yeah…” Luke’s voice was just as quiet, gaze going from the tree to the blond man beside him. He took a slight breath, resting one elbow on the back of the couch and his cheek in his hand, coffee mug safely held against his knee. “Sometimes I really miss bein’ that little. No worries, none of the big responsibilities… though life was good for a long time.” He smiled again, eyes lighting gently. “Uncle Jesse made sure of that.”

Bo shifted in his seat, turning to meet Luke’s eyes, leaning a shoulder back against the couch cushions. “Jesse did give us a good life. I remember when I realized how lucky I was that he had taken us in. I was probably seven or eight…” He looked down at his coffee cup, turning the mug in his hands as he spoke. “A friend at school had just lost both his parents in an accident. In my innocence, I asked him who he was going to be living with and he told me he was living at the orphanage. Later that day I asked the teacher why, and she told me that he didn’t have anyone to take him in.” Bo looked up, meeting Luke’s eyes. “I came home, ran up to Uncle Jesse, hugged him, and thanked him for not making me an orphan.” The blond man smiled slightly. “I was, but never really thought about it because Jesse was always there…”

“We weren’t orphans, with Jesse and each other,” Luke replied almost softly, gaze a bit distant for a moment, then focusing on his companion again. “We made a family, together. Still are a family… even with Daisy off and married on us.” There was a beat, then the older man spoke again, quietly. “Bo, do you know what my favorite Christmas gift of all time was?” He glanced down for a few moments as he spoke, eyes lifting again at the end.

Bo’s eyes searched Luke’s face for a moment, trying to see the answer. After a moment he shook his head, his voice near a whisper as he spoke. ?No.”

The older man tilted his head a little as he spoke, holding his cousin’s gaze. “I didn’t think of it that way at the time… hardly… but now, I know it was the year you and Daisy came to live with Jesse and me, somewheres between Thanksgiving and Christmas is all I can remember about the date. You were so dang little… drove me crazy.” He smiled a little. “Always into my stuff, always followin’ underfoot, always vying for Uncle Jesse’s attention. But I grew to love both of you, and then there came a day I didn’t know what it’d be like to be without either of you… and I didn’t want to.” The dark-haired Duke went quiet for a long moment, then finally spoke again, softly. “You’re my best gift.”

Bo closed his eyes a moment, and when he opened them, he was looking into the bright blue eyes of his cousin, his best friend. His throat tight with emotion, voice a near-whisper he spoke, “You’re my best gift…” The younger man lowered his head a moment, trying to find the words to say what he was feeling. “You’ve always been a brother to me. I can’t tell you what it means this Christmas, being able to be here, home… together again after too long apart.”

Luke was silent a long moment, swallowing a little, gaze dropping… and finally lifting again. “Well then,” he whispered a bit roughly, his voice betraying his own emotion, and a smile lifting the corners of his mouth a moment later. He lifted his coffee mug a bit. “A toast, then… to family? To home.”

Bo lifted his mug, touching it briefly to Luke’s. “To family and home. Merry Christmas, cousin.”

“Merry Christmas.” And with that pronouncement, Luke took a sip, smiling to himself. It had been a long time, and things were different now… but they were together again. And there were many Christmases to look forward to.

The end