by: MacSas

Roscoe pulled up to the Duke farmhouse.

“Here we are” he told Boss. “That vehicle there must belong to the Mounties.”

“Well, let’s see what’s going on” Boss said.

“Attention in the farmhouse!” Roscoe called as he climbed the porch stairs.

“Who is that?” asked Martin, turning to the kitchen door at the sound of the knock that followed Roscoe’s announcement.

“That,” smiled Bo “is Hazzard Counties finest.”

“Finest what?” asked Clark.

“We’re still awaiting the DNA results” Bo laughed.

Luke opened the door to Roscoe, who stumbled in, knocking on air. Martin and Clark looked at each other in disbelief.

“Things are done a little different here I guess” Clark murmured.

“Roscoe, Boss” Luke greeted in mock pleasure. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

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by: MacSas

“Don’t panic Shawna” Luke admonished. “I can handle this”

Considering what she’d seen him go through at the creek, Shawna didn’t bother hiding her look of doubt.

Luke sighed. Handling the truck and her would be impossible. He needed to focus on the truck for now; later he’d work on reassuring her he wasn’t as mad as he’d seem a while ago. His skills enabled him to take the tight curves easier than most would have found it. Still, the truck was old and unpredictable. And this wasn’t a racetrack; it was a hill with tight curves, a deadly drop on one side and a solid cliff face on the other. He thought about scrapping the side of the truck along the cliff to try to slow down, but quickly dismissed the idea. There was too much of a risk that the motion would cause sparks. On Shawna’s side there was a patch of gravel that ran alongside the drop. He aimed the wheel towards the gravel and allowed the truck to coast along it. They were close to the bottom of the hill. He could see the road that led to the Duke farm. Just a few more turns.

Shawna looked sideways at Luke as she clung to the dashboard. The movement on the gravel had slowed them down a little, but not enough for her liking. The sensation of being out of control was sickening. The sound of the gravel crunching under the tires was almost deafening. The whole truck vibrated with movement, and Shawna was it was about to fall apart. She couldn’t stand to look out the front window, instead she focused on Luke. He held the wheel with assurance, while alternating between watching the road in front and the drop beside them. He could do it, she assured herself. Surely he’d been in tighter spots? She wanted to weep and beg that he get them to the bottom alive. But she dared not make a sound.

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by: Essy Jane

Now over on the Duke farm, Daisy and Jesse were getting ready to go visit an
old sick friend over in Maine, leaving poor old Bo and Luke to fend for
themselves. With their cooking I’d say they’d last about two hours. But Bo
had been working on it with a girl that he stole from Luke. “I’ll see y’all
later, I left a few meals frozen. Just try not to burn down the house while
I’m gone,” Jesse stated.

“Don’t worry, I’m used to babysitting Bo,” Luke teased.

“I’ll be sure to give Luke his bottle every three hours,” Bo ragged.

“No fighting boys or I’ll get Cooter to tan your hides, a personal favor,”
Uncle Jesse scolded and with that that they were off driving Dixie. The
General was in the shop and the pick-up needed a good tune-up. So of course
Dixie went into battle.

Bo and went into the kitchen and began to think about what they were going
to do without their uncle and cousin. “Well here’s the deal, we can save the
frozen dinners ‘till we need them or eat them now,” Luke thought out loud.

“Well I figure you’ll mess up the cooking,” Bo laughed.

“Me? You cook as good as Rosco drives!”

“Not anymore, I’ve been getting lessons. I bet you I could cook a better
meal than you ever could.”

“You’re on Bo! Loser washes dishes ‘till Uncle Jesse gets back.”

“Now you’re talking.”

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by: Marty Chrisman

The day was cold and overcast with a light rain falling. A day that perfectly matched the mood of the young man walking through the cemetery in Nashville. He’d asked the caretaker where to find the gravesite he was searching for. The caretaker had been glad to oblige. Folks seemed drawn for some reason to visit the grave of the famous lady singer who been killed so tragically at such a young age. They often came and left flowers, notes, all kinds of things behind. It wasn’t that usually for someone to stop by and ask him how to find her grave. But there was something different about the young man who had asked him today where she was buried. Maybe it was the haunted empty look in those sapphire blue eyes or maybe it was the way he walked, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Somehow, he sensed that this visitor had a more personal reason for visiting the young entertainer’s grave than most.

The young man walked down the rows of headstones until he found the one he was looking for. A simple marble headstone, nothing elaborate. She wouldn’t have wanted that anyway. Thankfully, whoever had arranged her funeral had realized that much. The young man’s eyes slowly read the inscription on the stone:

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by: Marty Chrisman

Luke slept for over 36 hours before finally opening his eyes. He was alone in the room he shared with Bo and as his mind cleared, the pain returned and ripped his heart in two. Sierra was gone and this time he would never see her again. Rolling over onto his side, he closed his eyes to hold back the tears and let himself fall back into the darkness where he wouldn’t have to deal with anything for awhile.

When 48 hours had passed without Luke walking up, Jesse got concerned and sent Bo to check on his oldest cousin. Bo approached Luke’s bed and gently reached out to shake his shoulder. “Luke…..hey Luke…” he said quietly. Luke’s only response was a groan as he buried his face in his pillow and moved away from Bo’s touch. “Luke, come on….Uncle Jesse thinks you should get up for awhile…” Bo said, gently shaking Luke’s shoulder again.

“Leave me alone….” Luke’s muffled voice growled as he swatted at Bo’s hand.

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