by: Sarah Stodola

 

“Luke! Luke!”

It was a couple of days after he had met Anna. He was still trying to get his emotions on that matter sorted out, while trying to coax a dying pickup back into life. He frowned and pushed his way out from under the machine, wrench in hand, just in time to get landed upon by a blond teenager. It quite literally knocked the breath out of him. He coughed, trying to breathe.

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry!” Bo realized what he’d done. He scrambled up and offered a hand to his older cousin. “I’m really, really sorry!”

The pleading dark blue eyes melted Luke’s heart almost before he started to get mad. He sighed and nodded, accepting the hand up and brushing himself off. “I’m okay. What is it?”

“Can I go into town with Greg and Laura? They’re going to a movie.”

Luke pondered that for a moment. Greg and Laura were brother and sister, from the next farm up the road. They were good kids. “Well…”

“Please?”

“All right. Go on. But be back for dinner!” he called after the already-running boy.

“Okay!”

Luke quirked a half-smile to himself, rubbing his ribs carefully, then got back down under the pickup. He was glad that Bo was finding some friends. It was good that he was striking out a bit, starting to reach out and take part in the rest of the world, or at least county. But the older cousin kept having to remind himself that Bo didn’t always need him to look out for him. After all, he would be sixteen in August.

Luke chuckled wryly at himself. Now if only he could convince himself to let go a little.

And convince himself that Anna wasn’t going to hurt him and Bo. And convince an ancient automobile to get up the gumption to even start.

He had a lot of convincing to do. He’d better get started. He flipped the wrench over in his hand to the round side, and started loosening a bolt.

**

Bo followed Greg and Laura down the street toward the theater. He wasn’t quite sure what the film was about. It was a Western, he knew that much, but the most important thing about it was that he was going with his friends.

Especially Laura. He didn’t know how to show it, so he kept his distance, but he kinda liked her. She was good-looking, as well as brave, open, everyone’s friend; all the things he wasn’t. And she sorta seemed to like him, too. He wasn’t sure why. But he planned on enjoying the attention while it lasted. She’d been the one to convince her brother to let him come along.

“Hey, Bo, come on!” Greg called.

Bo started and ran up to his friends. He’d been so busy staring at everything that had changed that he’d fallen behind. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Laura smiled. “We’re early for the picture anyway. Haven’t been into town much, huh?”

The blond boy shrugged. “Not really. Not since three years ago.”

Greg smiled at him. “Oh, well. Go ahead. We’re early anyway, like Laura said.”

Bo smiled back and resumed looking around, this time being careful to not get too far behind. When they finally got to the theater, the three kids found themselves seats near the front, Bo sitting between his two friends, and happily immersed themselves into the action and story.

The hours afterward found them running around outside, playing like children, laughing and pretending a gunfight. Bo threw himself into the game wholeheartedly, ducking imaginary bullets and firing back as he dived into an alley, giggling. He was brought up short by a hand grabbing his arm and swinging him around into a wall. The blond Duke coughed, trying to get air back into his lungs, and stared up. And up. And up.

“Oh, boy…” he breathed. The guy who’d grabbed him was about Luke’s age, and a good foot taller, with short spiky hair and a black leather vest over dirty t-shirt and jeans. Not normal Hazzard folk. “Hi,” he smiled nervously.

“Who’re you?” The older teen sneered as he spoke.

Bo looked around. At least he didn’t see any others. Was this guy ever big! “Bo… Bo Duke,” he stuttered. Then he pulled himself to his full slim height. “Who’re you?”

“Don’t sass me, kid!” The older boy pushed him roughly back against the brick wall.

Bo wished for a second that Luke was here, then decided that, since he’d have to get out of this on his own, he might as well not get scared about it. “I ain’t afraid of you. Lemme go!”

The other chuckled and shifted position cockily. The smell of cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air, and Bo coughed quietly, making a face. The older teen noticed. “Don’t like it, huh?” he sneered.

“Let me go,” Bo demanded, not answering the question. Then he scowled, a thought making its way into his mind. “You’re not even from around here, are you?”

The teen laughed. “Course not. Why would I want to live in a hick dump like this? I’m just passin’ through.” He caught Bo’s shirt in his grip. “You’re just lookin’ for trouble, aren’t you?”

“You’re just lookin’ for trouble, ain’tcha?” Bo shot back, grinning. He ducked barely in time. The force of the angered blow ruffled his hair. Uh-oh.

No more time for games. This goon meant business! Bo struck suddenly, his lean young body tensing and releasing like a coiled rattlesnake. His fist struck the taller boy hard in the stomach, and elicited a moan. Then the out-of-towner suddenly sprang at him. Bo didn’t move fast enough, and the swinging fist caught him on the cheekbone, throwing him backwards to lay sprawled on the ground.

He shook his head and blinked hard, trying to clear his vision from a funny mixture of sparks and cobwebs, and rolled away and up to his feet, staggering a little as he shook his head again.

The other laughed. “Not so hot as you thought, eh, kid?”

Angry, Bo clenched his teeth and leapt unexpectedly to deliver a punch to the stranger’s jaw. The answer was a grunt of surprise, then a jab to the younger boy’s stomach.

Bo gasped in pain, and for air. Luke had taught him how to fight, but he’d also taught him to get out when he couldn’t handle his opponent, and now seemed a good time to get out of here. He kicked out viciously in the near-dark, aiming between his enemy’s legs. He was rewarded with a hiss of pain as the teen doubled over. The blond boy wasted no time in twisting away and running for it. In seconds, he heard pounding feet behind. He hadn’t hit hard enough to keep the other from following him, but it had been enough to really anger him. Bo would have to run for his life now. Back at Rialton, he’d heard other boys tell stories about those gang types, and they were dangerous. He’d bet almost anything that this guy was one of ’em.

The smaller boy dodged around corners and finally sprinted into a small junkyard at the edge of town. He ran deep inside and dived behind a pile of scrap, trying hard to control his panting. The other couldn’t hear him! He just couldn’t! “Luke…” he whimpered quietly, then clamped a hand over his mouth.

He was scared. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it. He was hurt, and so very scared. He’d felt brave for a while there, but now he just wanted out of here! He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed. He heard footsteps and tried to stop breathing, pressing into the junk. Suddenly, some of it near-silently gave way, and he barely fought back a yell of surprise as he fell-slid backwards through a narrowish gap.

Bo opened his eyes and looked around, to discover that he was inside an old car, mostly buried for who knew how many years under a pile of metal and scrap. A hole where he had fallen in through the window shone dimly in the twilight. Twilight, some part of his mind thought guiltily. He had been supposed to be home by dinnertime. It was past that now. Luke would worry.

Right now, though, he needed to stay safe. He scrambled upright and shoved most of the junk that had fallen in back into the hole to try and block it from view, then squeezed his way down to lay on the floor of the back seat. Then he waited, shivering. He felt wet at the corner of his mouth and wiped blood away. He waited some more, and his foot went to sleep. He tried to wiggle it a little, but the floor of a car was no place for a nearly six-foot teenager. He prayed that the guy would go away, and waited some more.

Finally, after what seemed forever, Bo decided that he’d been in there long enough and squirmed up onto the back seat, rubbing a few bruised spots. Blinking in the dimness, he looked around at the interior.

It was low-roofed, yet quite wide. The multiple gauges on the dashboard suggested that this might have once been been a racing car. Bo shoved the junk out of the window and scrambled out, not even attempting to open the door. There was too much stuff in the way. It was almost dark out here, too. But he had to find something out first before he could grab a ride home.

He pushed junk out of the way just enough to find the edge of the car’s hood, and ran his hand along it. It was long, and low-built like the roof. He measured the length by how many times he could spread his fingers along its side, then slid back in and measured the dashboard’s width the same way. Memorizing the distances, he replaced stuff around his prize, hiding it, and carefully left the junkyard.

Bo made sure that nobody was around to grab him as he went out the gate, but didn’t quite relax until he’d left the neighborhood and was back in town square. Then he grinned to himself. He’d outsmarted the guy. He heard a familiar sputtering engine behind him and turned, just in time for him to see an equally familiar figure leap out and run over to hug him in the beams of the headlights, trembling.

Luke finally pulled away and gripped his upper arms, hard. “Don’t you ever, ever do that again!” he ordered, voice unsteady. He sounded scared. Honestly scared. Bo bit his lip.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Really.”

“Sorry ain’t gonna cut it this time, Bo…” Then he trailed off, and loosened his grip. Gently, he touched his younger cousin’s cheek. Bo flinched. That hurt! “What happened here?”

He swallowed, hard. “I was playing with Greg and Laura. We were pretending like we were in the movie… I ran into an alley and this big guy grabbed me.” Seeing a funny look in his cousin’s eyes that he thought was called skepticism, he insisted, “I ain’t lyin’! Duke’s honor, Lukas!”

Luke stepped back. “Okay. What’d this guy look like?”

Bo tried to motion out his words. “He was so tall…” he held a hand a good ways over the height of Luke’s head, “and talked real tough. He wore old clothes…” he grimaced, “and he smoked. He said he was just passin’ through. He didn’t like my almost running into him.”

“So he did that to you?”

Bo shook his head slowly. “Not… not right away. I got mad and started sassin’ back, and he didn’t like that none.”

Luke’s mouth twitched at the corners. “You’re a Duke, that’s for sure.” Without explaining his words, he went on, “Why’re you an hour late, though?”

Even though it was said roughly, Bo could hear the underlying gentleness in his cousin’s tone, and knew that Luke believed him. “He tried to rough me up some and I fought back. I kicked him…” He gestured.

Luke winced to show he understood what Bo was talking about. “Yeah, and?”

“And I didn’t hit hard enough, and he chased me. I ran into the junkyard and hid. I didn’t want to come out till I was sure he was gone.” He licked dry lips and swallowed, dropping his head and fighting tears. “I was scared, Luke… I wished you were there.”

He heard gravel crunch in one footstep, then Luke’s arms were around him gently, and he was murmuring that everything was all right now, that he was safe. Bo shivered and laid his head on his older cousin’s shoulder, holding tight and finally letting himself cry.

After a bit, he pulled back, sniffing and rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. Luke handed him a handkerchief and he wiped his face with it. “You okay other than your face?” the older Duke asked gently.

“Yeah.”

“Come on. Let’s get home.”

Bo gladly followed him to the warm safety of the truck, and didn’t say a word the whole way home. Now that he was safe, he was exhausted, and more than ready to let Luke make all the decisions. The fifteen-year-old yawned.

When they got home, Luke studied the bruise on his cheek in the light and pronounced he’d live, made him wash his face and hands from all the grime he’d managed to pick up in the alley and junkyard, and then after a quick sandwich dinner sent him off ahead to the room they still shared. Bo undressed to crawl into bed without further thought for much of anything else. It was after Luke had come in and turned out the light that he remembered.

“Lukas?” he mumbled sleepily.

“Hmm? What is it?”

He yawned. “I found a car…”

He could hear Luke’s smile. “Go to sleep, Bo. It’ll still be there in the morning.”

“G’night.”

“Good night, little cuz.”

Bo smiled at that. Even though he was now almost Luke’s height, he liked being called that. It made him feel safe somehow… protected by someone bigger and stronger and braver than he was. He yawned once more, and that was the last thing he remembered.

 

* * * * *

 

“This wide… and the hood’s this long.” Bo measured a couple of distances in the dirt with his spread fingers, then used them to draw a rough rectangle. Then the blond boy looked up at his older cousin expectantly.

Luke shifted his weight and put his hands on his hips, tapping one finger against his belt in thought. “That’s the engine capacity?”

“Uh-huh. I dunno what it is about this car… but it just seemed right. You know?” The dark blue eyes were begging him to understand.

He smiled. “Okay, cuz. We’ll go see this car. Might as well. We might find a diamond in the rough, huh?”

Bo grinned and climbed to his feet from his kneeling position, brushing the dirt off his knees. “I’ll show you right exactly where it is! I even covered it back up good so’s no one can take it first!” He stood with his chin high in pride. Luke chuckled, but his amusement was tempered by fondness.

“I really don’t think anybody else is going to hunt through a junkyard for a car without a working engine, Bo. But thanks. Go get the keys for the pickup, will ya?”

“Sure.” The younger boy ran across the yard and into the house, slamming the screen door behind him. Luke just stood there, eyeing the dimensions drawn in the dirt. Might be about right… He hoped so. Then Bo was running back, grinning. He took the keys, and gestured to the vehicle.

“Go on, get in,” he suggested, jumping up into his own seat and turning the ignition. The engine sputtered and coughed, and died. Luke tried again, and it sputtered, caught, and died. He caught Bo’s eye. “Cross your fingers, cousin.” Bo held up both hands, all fingers but his thumbs crossed, and the older cousin turned the key once more. The truck coughed mightily and started up. “Whew!” he half-smiled. “I think the old gal needs bigger help than I can give her.”

“I think we need a new car,” Bo reasoned bluntly.

Luke put it in gear and pulled out onto the main road. “I know, I know. But we ain’t got the money right now.”

Bo nodded, slowly. “I know.” Luke shot him a sharp glance at his thoughtful tone of voice, but only received a smile in return.

It didn’t take too long to get to town, only half an hour or so, but Bo chattered the whole way excitedly. By the time they got to Cooter’s garage, not far from the junkyard, Luke almost believed that this could be the right car. He ordered his younger cousin to stay put and ran into the shop.

“Hey, Cooter!” he yelled. “You around?”

“Right here.” The voice came slightly muffled, and Luke walked around a parked black sedan to see his friend elbow-deep in the innards of an engine. He made a face when he saw the mess under the hood.

“Somebody roughed this thing up.”

“Sure did.” Cooter pulled out and smiled, apparently unaware of the grease smearing his cheek. Of course, he probably didn’t care anyway. “Whatcha got? Pickup givin’ ya fits again?”

“Actually, yeah, but that’s not why we’re here. It’s a car for that racin’ engine of yours, maybe,” the older Duke replied. “Sounds like it might be the one. Finally.” He rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “Thought you’d like to come look at it with us. After all, it’s your engine.”

“Sure.” The young mechanic straightened abruptly, then yelped and jumped down and away. He stood slowly, eyeing the car distrustfully as though it were alive and had attacked him, and rubbing his head where he’d hit it on the underside of the hood. He reached for a rag and wiped his hands and face. “Let’s go.”

Luke led the way back outside, then let Bo take the lead for the rest of the walk to the little junkyard. Cooter made a face.

“I ain’t sure you’ll find much in here, fellas,” he warned.

“I am!” Bo spoke up. His eyes were excited and confident, and proud of himself. “I measured the hood, and Luke said it might be right.”

At Cooter’s glance, Luke nodded. “It seems like it’d be. But as I said, you’re the one with the engine. You’ll know if it fits.”

Bo led them to a high pile of scrap metal, and started digging away at one side. “It’s under here.” When the others didn’t pitch in, he insisted, “Really!”

His dark-haired cousin finally stepped forward and helped pull away pieces of car and other machinery until a front fender became visible. Luke halted and ran his hand over the scratched dark blue paint. It was dented, but not too badly. Whatever damage there was to send the machine here must be on the other side. He felt the others’ gazes on his back, and resumed uncovering the car that was obviously there.

Cooter hmmed and took off toward his garage. Luke wondered where he was going, but he didn’t call out to ask. He was too interested in finding out what was under here. Bo’s excitement was getting to him, making him curious. With the blond teenager’s help, he freed the front bumper and the one wheel he could see, then Cooter came back with his tow truck and attached a chain to the nose of the car.

Slowly, the tow truck moved forward, and with a terrible screech the car moved out of the junkheap. Then things on top started to shift, and Luke yelled, “Go!” to Cooter. “Pull fast!”

The warning came just in time. As both vehicles and all three boys got out of harm’s way, what had been on top of the car came crashing and rolling down. The racket set up a chorus of barks from nearby dogs, and Cooter whistled.

“Whoa. For a moment, I thought we weren’t gonna make it there.”

“Me too,” Luke admitted, then turned to better study Bo’s find, walking around it.

He’d seen a picture of a car like this before, and he thought he remembered it was called a Charger, made by Dodge. He’d have to look that up. But his younger cousin had been right; it did look like it would fit their engine. Most of the damage had been to the other side, like he’d figured, but the dents on the side looked like they could be pounded out. The crumpled left front fender… now that was another matter. But it could be replaced. The roof was bent in from the weight of the junk on top of it, but that could be pounded out too, and smoothed if done right. He finally stood still and tapped his index finger to his lips, frowning, then went back to lift the hood, Cooter at his elbow.

It stuck for several shoves, but then lifted up reluctantly, rust showering down from the hinges and the underside. Those would have to be replaced. The engine had been completely stripped out for parts, he noted. Not much but a few wires leading to the dashboard left. Well, that was just as well. “I think maybe we could do it,” he finally said.

Bo sprang into the air, jabbing one fist up, unable to contain his exuberance. “Yeah!”

Luke couldn’t help but laugh as well; it was infectious. He turned to look at Cooter, standing right next to him and craning his neck into the meager innards of the car. “Your engine. Your call,” he shrugged.

The look in the mechanic’s eyes was a blend of desire and uncertainty, but the desire finally won out, and he nodded. “Let’s get this heap down to the garage and get started on makin’ it into a real car.”

Bo hugged Luke, and the older Duke returned the joyous embrace wholeheartedly. When he let go, he tickled Bo in the ribs, making the blond boy squeal and jump sideways.

“Let’s do it!” they said in near-unison.

 

* * * * *

 

Restoring the old wreck was an expensive and difficult prospect. The one saving grace was that Cooter could get all the parts he needed wholesale, because he was a professional mechanic. The Dukes helped with their savings as well, becoming more and more excited about this whole thing, and felt the pinch sometimes, like when they had to sell off two steers early for the necessary cash. But, it seemed worth it, especially when Anna took an interest and chipped in to buy just a few items, the gifts completely unexpected and always needed. The girl from Kansas had found her way easily into Bo’s heart, and her helping with their car thrilled the blond boy no end. Luke had to admit he appreciated it too.

Every day for weeks, after the farm chores were done, Luke and Bo headed into town and spent the rest of the afternoon and into the evening hidden away in the garage, working on their car. Strange, that Luke had almost started to think of it as his and Bo’s, though it was really Cooter’s. The first thing the mechanic had ordered done was the removal of all paint and rust. With cleaners, heat, and a few super-strong chemicals that Luke forbid Bo to help use, they stripped the car down to plain clean gray metal.

Then the three boys started in on bodywork. Cooter and Luke knocked out the various caved-in places and replaced the left front fender. Not-as-strong Bo replaced the rusted-out hinges in the hood, with his older cousin whispering a prayer that the hood wouldn’t come down on his head while he did it the entire time. It didn’t, and Bo seemed cheerfully oblivious to any possible danger, but Luke breathed a sigh of relief when the job was done.

This machine was, slowly, showing signs of promise. It was no beauty, at least not yet, but what it had been before it had been wrecked was starting to show through. After all the major pounding was done, Cooter smoothed out the remaining dents with the skill of an automotive artist, reinforcing the body with steel bars, and Luke taught Bo how to weld the doors shut for racing, and smooth out the join line until it seemed practically nonexistent. Soon the Charger had lines as fine as if it’d just come out of the shop. Which, in a way, it had. Not much original was left in the car; only the strong steel framework and chassis, and the dashboard and controls. When they were done on the outside, Bo brought out some cans of gray primer that he’d picked up on a recent trip to the general store, a forethought that the others hadn’t yet had and Luke was proud of him for, and they rust-proofed the entire car, even the underside. It took a lot of paint, and a good bit of money to buy more, but somehow they managed.

Then came the interior and trim. Cracked glass over two of the gauges was replaced, as well as the windshield, and Cooter got his uncle Reuben at the reupholstering shop to help replace the torn seat covers with good tan leather from a wrecked Cadillac they’d found in the junkyard. Luke and Bo bought with their own savings brand new racing tires. Headlights were replaced as well, and the grills over them. Chrome glittered, and even the dashboard had been resurfaced to match the color of the seats. The carpet on the floor was still black, as was the inside of the doors and the ceiling, a striking contrast to the golden tan. Cooter had come up with a used, highpowered CB set, and they put that in too along with the necessary antenna, even though it was unusual for a racecar that wasn’t intended for normal driving.

“This is turnin’ out to be some car,” Cooter admitted one night a couple of months after they’d pulled the heap out of the junkyard, standing back and looking at their handiwork with his hands on his hips. Luke nodded agreement.

“Yep. Sure is.”

Bo had gone to sleep on the workbench hours earlier, covered with an old blanket, but the older boys were so close to finishing that they hadn’t quit until long after midnight. Luke caught himself yawning too.

All they had left to do was maybe the most important part — dropping the engine into its bay. Luke almost decided to wait until tomorrow, but Cooter jerked his head over toward the shape in the corner, covered with a canvas tarp, and raised both eyebrows hopefully. Luke sighed, fighting another yawn, and nodded. “Oh, all right. Let’s do it.”

Cooter grinned and went over to the back, while Luke popped the hood and bent all the wires to electrical stuff out of the way.

It took some time, a lot of strength, and a good bit of tight fitting to get the engine in. The two friends tried to be quiet at first, but when Bo showed no signs of waking up no matter what, decided to forget that and went to it with a vengeance. Clattering and clanging drifted across the street from the garage as the pair dismantled part of the engine and dropped most of it in, then reconnected the final parts in different ways. When they were finally finished, Luke dropped the hood to make sure it fit inside well, then opened it back up to rewire and tape up all the electrical connections, making good and sure they were well-insulated.

Then they tried the key they’d had the town locksmith create for them from a mold. The engine growled to life, but a rattling sounded ominous, and Luke quickly turned the ignition off again.

Cooter stuck his head under the hood and messed around a bit, then called out, “Try ’er again!”

Luke did, and the sounds lessened. But they were still there. “Cooter, I think we’ve got air in the gas lines.”

“Well, that can be fixed. C’mon out and help.”

The two boys flushed out the system in order to start clean, and checked every inch of the high-performance fuel hose for possible cracks. Cooter replaced a couple of questionable spots and patched up a couple of others, and they tried again.

This time, the engine started well, albeit a little ticking. Cooter nodded, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. “Timing’s off a little, but that’s all. Let’s fine-tune ’er. She’s gonna do great.”

“He,” Luke corrected without thinking.

“Huh?”

The dark-haired Duke shrugged a little, sitting halfway through the driver’s side door. “I dunno. But it just seems right to call it he instead of she.”

Cooter shrugged. “Whatever. He, then.” He slapped the fender lightly. “Let’s tune him up. Get him really purrin’.”

Finally, as the sky began to lighten, the two tired boys stood off to the side, hands on their hips, and studied their handiwork. Luke shook his head slowly in admiration. “Cooter, I’ve got to hand it to ya. You can sure build a good car.”

The mechanic looked at him surprisedly. “But Luke, it was mostly your and Bo’s doin’. He found the car.”

“Mm,” was the noncommital answer. The older Duke sighed and shrugged. “But you were the one who knew how to make something out of a sorry pile of junk. And did we ever.”

“Did we ever,” Cooter echoed quietly.

“Did we ever what?” came a questioning voice, followed by a yawn. Luke turned, automatically already smiling, to see his younger cousin sitting up, rubbing his eyes and yawning again.

“Good morning,” he greeted. “We’re done.”

Bo blinked and jumped down off the workbench, leaving the blanket in a heap there. “Done?”

“Yup,” Cooter grinned. “Except for a paint job.”

“The engine works?” Bo was getting excited. Despite the fact that he’d been up all night, Luke found that somehow he wasn’t really sleepy either. Maybe too much adrenaline in his system. When it was gone, he knew he’d be out of action for a while.

“Sure does,” the older Duke grinned, reaching into the window. He turned the key, and the car came to life with a roar. Bo jumped, then grinned, reaching out to brush his fingers over the nose lightly.

“It’s almost alive!”

Luke looked at him, suddenly thoughtful. Yeah. It did seem to be. Sometimes Bo was very perceptive. “You know, you’re right.”

“Can I sit inside?” the blond fifteen-year-old asked.

Cooter shrugged. “Sure.”

“Great!” He slid into the passenger seat, giggling in delight, and ran a hand over the dash, then climbed back out to sit on the door. “What’re we gonna paint him?”

“See?” Luke turned to his mechanic friend, eyebrows up in mock-superiority. “Bo says it’s a he too.”

The three boys laughed together, then Cooter moved toward the back of the garage. “Well, let’s see what we got here.” The two Dukes looked at each other and followed. “Red,” he held up a small can of paint, “but that’s just for touch-ups… Blue? Nah, not enough.” He passed over a couple of small cans of black and turned back to them, shaking his head. “Sorry, guys, we’re gonna have to buy paint if we’re gonna get enough to cover the whole car.”

Bo had been poking around in a corner, and came up with a gallon can. “What about this?”

Cooter turned to see what he was holding up, and made a face. “Naw. You wouldn’t want that.”

“What is it?” Luke took the can from his younger cousin and glanced at the label. It was too faded to read.

“There’s a whole bunch of those under that tarp. Been there for years. Never could use it. Didn’t even ask for it, just was part of a shipment.” Cooter shook his head.

“What is it?” Luke repeated.

The mechanic sighed heavily. “Can you believe orange?”

Bo laughed. “Orange?!”

“Yep. Can you imagine an orange car?”

Luke frowned in thought. “Actually, I can,” he spoke up, eyeing the other colors on the shelves. The others looked at him questioningly. He tried to put what he saw in his head into words. “I just got a picture in my mind… could we mix a little red with that?”

“Sure,” Cooter shrugged. “But why?”

Luke didn’t bother to answer. He went along the shelves and snatched down a few small cans. “Black, white, red, blue.” He handed them to Bo, who cocked his head in puzzzlement.

“What’re we gonna do, Luke?”

“I’ll show you.” He led the way back to the car, the others trailing along curiously, and drew a rectangle that took up most of the roof with his finger. “A flag here, a Rebel flag… Numbers on the door, black outlined in white.”

Cooter snorted with laughter. “One colorful car.”

“Sure.” Luke turned and smiled. “That’s the point. We’re already the fastest machine around, why not the flashiest?”

Bo’s eyes widened, and he started grinning, slowly. “Yeah… I see what you’re gettin’ at.”

Cooter shrugged. “Whatever. At least it’s paint. I’ll go hook up the spray pump.”

“You’ll see,” Luke assured him. “You’ll see.”

They papered over the windows and trim, and started spraying reddish-orange paint all over the car. They took a breakfast break while the first coat dried, then went back and applied a second. The Dukes took off for home at this point to feed the animals, then came back a few hours later, when the second coat was smooth and dry. Then Luke scrambled up onto the roof, and carefully started outlining his design in pencil. Bo helped paint within the lines, and Cooter, who had given up and decided to join in on making this an unusual car, dug up an old gag, a horn that played the first few bars of ‘Dixie’, and hummed while connecting the device under the hood.

Bo came up with an unexpected thought while painting a careful white border around the Confederate flag. “He needs a name.”

“A name?” Cooter’s voice came out from the depths of the engine bay.

“Yeah. All great racecars have names.” He looked at Luke. “Don’t they?”

“Well, a good many of them do,” he acquiesced. “But what would we call him?”

“I don’t know. Something good.”

“I reinforced the structure to be able to jump well,” their mechanic friend told them, still not coming up. “A calvary name maybe?”

Luke dipped a fine brush to add the stars. “Hmm.”

“General Lee?” Bo spoke up after a bit.

“What?” his older cousin asked.

“I learned about him in school. He was-”

“We know who he was,” Cooter interrupted. “But why that?”

The fifteen-year-old shrugged. “I don’t know. It just fits.”

“General Lee.” Luke tried the name out. It sounded… he didn’t know. Different. “General.” Finally he nodded. “Good as any, I guess.”

“So,” Cooter spoke up again, “what number are you going to have?”

“Something different.” Different. That seemed to be the best way to descibe this car, he thought. “Something unusual. He’s one-of-a-kind.”

“One,” Bo chimed in.

“Huh?”

“Number one.”

Luke shook his head, finishing the final brush stroke and jumping down to the floor. “You’ve got to have at least two digits, Bo.”

“What about oh-one?” Cooter suggested, finally poking his head out into view. “Try the horn. See if it works.”

Luke reached in and pressed the tab on the steering wheel. The loud, musical sound of Dixie filled the garage.

“It works,” Bo said unnecessarily, still perched on the trunk, paintbrush in hand.

“Yep.” The mechanic slammed the hood down. “But I still think that number would look good.”

“It would, at that,” Luke nodded. “Okay.”

Cooter helped him paint the black, white-outlined number 01 on each door. Bo was busy with something else that Luke couldn’t see. The three boys worked in companionable silence for a while, then the youngest spoke up.

“Look at this, Lukas.”

Luke glanced upward, then stood to be able to see what he was talking about. The blond boy sat on the hood proudly, clothes smeared with paint. Luke was glad he’d had them both put on old stuff before they came back. Then he noticed what his cousin was pointing out. He started to chuckle.

“What?” Cooter asked.

“Stand up and look.”

The mechanic complied, and blinked in surprise, slowly starting to smile. He reached out as if to touch the painted letters, and Bo yelped a protest.

“No! It’s wet!”

Luke studied the name ‘General Lee’ written in capital letters along each of the long sides of the flag, above the doors. Blue was the main color, but like the numbers on the doors, outlined in white. It had been done very smoothly, with great care, and he glanced over at the beaming teenager sitting crosslegged on the hood. “That’s beautiful, Bo.”

Cooter opened his mouth, then caught Luke’s glare and glared back. “I think it is too. And Luke, I wasn’t gonna say anything else.”

The older two finished their job on the doors and put the paint away, then while waiting for the paint to dry, cleaned up after themselves. After a while, Cooter touched the numbers and pronounced them dry enough.

Bo turned to the older boys and asked eagerly, “Can we try him out?”

“Well…” Luke started, then paused, thinking. He looked at Cooter. “What do you think?”

The mechanic shrugged. “What the heck. Go for it.”

“Me?”

Another shrug. “Sure. You’re a better driver ’n I am. I’ll ride shotgun.”

“Can I come?” Bo begged.

Luke looked over at him, then grinned. “Sure. You got Duke blood in you. You might as well get used to fast cars.”

“Yahoo!” The younger boy whooped and leaped off the hood, diving through a window and placing himself in the middle of the seat. “C’mon!”

Luke slid into the driver’s seat, while Cooter opened the garage doors and jumped in the other side.

“Hit it!” the mechanic ordered with a grin.

Luke put the gas pedal down, and they shot out like a rocket. He let up just in time to make the turn to roar down the street. And roar was right. The engine was anything but quiet. He laughed out loud as they left the town behind for the open road.

They sped along side roads and part of the highway. The powerful engine hardly seemed to notice the difference in traction between pavement and dirt. Luke let it out, then braked hard, and spun tight U-turns in both directions, testing the car’s reflexes as well as his own. The racer responded almost before he moved to make his thoughts into actions. Bo and Cooter howled and shouted their delight, and Luke couldn’t help but join in the celebration.

After about a half-hour, something suddenly struck him, and he pulled over and looked at his passengers.

“Some car!” Cooter started, but Bo’s dark blue eyes met his cousin’s, seeming to understand that Luke wanted to say something in specific.

“What is it, Luke?”

He took a deep breath and hoped that Duke intuition wouldn’t let him down. “Wanna drive?”

“Me?” Cooter shook his head. “I ain’t that good.”

“No. Bo.”

Both of the others gasped. “Me?” Bo said, the word ending in a squeak.

“Yeah. You.”

“I ain’t never driven anything besides that old pickup! I don’t even have a license!”

Luke sighed. “I know. But it don’t matter way out here as long as an adult’s teaching you. And I want you to try. I’m not sure why. I just do.”

Bo swallowed hard, but finally nodded. “I-I’ll try.”

“Good.” Luke slid over, letting the younger boy climb over him into the driver’s seat. Cooter’s eyes were huge.

“Uh, could I get out and just thumb a ride or somethin’? Not to knock your teachin’ skills, Luke, but I’d prefer not to be along on a training session.”

Luke shrugged. “Whatever.”

The mechanic scrambled out and waved as he struck out toward town, and the older Duke turned his attention to his pupil.

“Don’t get too nervous, little cuz, it ain’t that different than the pickup. Same controls. But you gotta watch the accelerator on this boy. Light and easy does it.”

Bo nodded wordlessly and took the car out of Park, then pulled onto the road. He put his foot on the gas and then stomped on the brake when the car shot forward. Luckily, Luke had been prepared for the jolt, bracing a hand against the dashboard.

“Steady,” he encouraged the nervous fifteen-year-old. “Easy does it. Try again.”

The younger cousin took his foot off the brake and carefully touched the accelerator. Slowly, the car moved forward, just a little touch sending speed to the wheels. “It’s hard,” he confided.

“Not too hard. You’ve just gotta get used to it. Think of it this way. If you can master this car, you can drive anything.” Bo brightened at that. “Now, let’s move a little.”

“We won’t crash?”

“Nope,” Luke assured him. “Just remember that if something goes wrong, take your foot off the pedal, and I’m right here to grab the wheel if you need it. But I don’t think you will. Let’s go.”

Bo finally eased the racer up to fifty miles per hour. “Uh-oh!” he exclaimed when he looked at the speedometer. “Too fast?”

Luke chuckled. “Not really. No, don’t slow down. Take him up to sixty.”

His cousin turned a brief wide-eyed glance to him, but a smile was flickering at the corners of his mouth. With ever-increasing confidence, he obeyed.

For nearly two hours, Luke directed maneuvers, and sometimes got into the driver’s seat to demonstrate. The younger boy’s eyes and face were almost comically serious, his steel-trap mind storing away all the information. They didn’t do anything fancy, of course, just driving around, learning to corner, how to pull a careful U-turn, and to move to the right side of the road when another car came by without going into the ditch. Luke had to grab the wheel that time, when Bo overcompensated. But for the most part, he kept his hands to himself, marveling proudly at how quickly his little cousin was picking it all up.

Finally they pulled over next to Hazzard Pond, and Bo turned to look at him, eyes brimming with tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly.

The blond boy shook his head and leapt across the seat to hug him. “Nothing! It’s just so wonderful… we built a car, and it works, and I got to drive him!” The words were filled with awe.

Luke returned the hug, grinning. “What’s he feel like to you?”

Bo pulled back and bit his lower lip thoughtfully. “Like… like a rocket engine on wheels.”

“Yep. That’s about how I thought.” He pulled himself out through the passenger window, rounding the car’s nose to put an arm around his cousin, who’d come to meet him as well. They sat up on the orange hood, not talking much, but rather just content to be there together. Luke looked down after a bit to see Bo asleep against the windshield, breathing slow and deep. He smiled and ruffled the thick blond hair. The boy was exhausted. It had been a trying day for him, what with the driving and all.

Luke was more than ready for some sleep himself after pulling that all-nighter. He woke Bo enough to have him get himself in the car, and took the wheel. He drove straight home to the farm and sent his younger cousin off to bed, early afternoon or not. He left a message on the phone for Cooter telling him where they were and not to worry because nothing had happened to them or the car, and started up the stairs after Bo.

His eye was caught by the view from the window in their room as he undressed, and he went over to look out. The orange car sat right in the middle of the farmyard, proudly at an angle to the old gray pickup, Rebel flag gleaming in the sun. “General Lee, you are somethin’ else,” he murmured. It seemed so right to have the car there, just as it had seemed when teaching Bo to drive it or even when choosing the crazy paint scheme.

The General Lee was more his than Cooter’s. His and Bo’s. Somehow, Luke swore to himself, somehow he would buy that car. Whatever it took. And it might take a lot. But somehow…

 

* * * * *

 

After the car was finished, the two young Dukes started working the farm on a major scale, trying to get things back in shape. Luke still took the General out on a drive every few days, practicing for the summer’s-end race, and Bo came along a few times. And he was starting to take Anna out more often, too. She even tagged along on a few of the boys’ adventures, like the NASCAR race they’d been saving to attend ever since they’d come home.

But there were other important considerations in life, too, besides having fun. Like that fox that had gotten back into the chicken coop, making some major repairs necessary, and the birthing of a calf that signaled that they would soon be able to start selling milk. And a family of raccoons that had moved into the loft and had to be chased out.

Then the fox returned a third night, slaughtering several chickens before Luke had come out with his uncle’s old shotgun and fired it into the air, making the varmit flee. And he decided he had to do something. While Bo did the morning dishes, a chore they took turns at, he dug around in a box in the barn and pulled out a variety of traps, choosing a bunch of small ones, then wrapped up some pieces of meat from one of the dead chickens for bait. Calling out to Bo that he’d be back within the hour, he struck out through the woods, bag of traps and meat in one hand and rifle in the other.

He circled the farm widely, setting traps along faint animal trails that he could pick out, and marking the locations on a map in his head so he could pick them up after he’d gotten his prey. The woods and tracking skills his Uncle Jesse had taught him came back in full force now, never truly forgotten. With the last two traps in hand, he scouted up along the streambank, keeping his eyes open for small dog-like prints.

Then Luke spotted a patch of reddish-brown fur just around a bend, head down as it lapped at the water, and smiled tightly to himself. “There you are,” he whispered, carefully setting the traps down and picking his way over the slight rise rather than going along the bank any farther. The wind was on his side, blowing toward him rather than toward his quarry, and he was very careful not to step on any twigs that would announce his presence. He lifted the rifle slowly, squinting along the sight and breathing out carefully. The fox wandered a little away before pausing to sniff the breeze from upstream, and Luke took one step sideways to get a better aim.

He didn’t quite know what happened at first. He couldn’t keep from crying out as something closed around his foot with more force than he thought possible. He barely noticed the fox freeze then start to dash away. He fell, dropping the rifle. It went off loudly as he rolled onto his back, pain screaming through his leg. He barely had time to register it and start to lose himself in a remembered panic that had little to do with the here and now before his head collided with a rock, and everything went black.

**

Bo puttered around the farmyard for a while, fixing some loose wire on the chicken coop, poking around in the pickup’s engine and privately wishing that the General Lee was theirs instead of this old piece of junk, then sitting on the pasture fence and whittling.

After a while, he started to feel like Luke had been gone too long. He jumped down, stuffing the piece of wood back into his pocket and the knife into its case on his belt, and headed for the house. When he looked at the clock in the kitchen, his eyes widened. His older cousin had said he’d be back by at the most an hour. It was over fifteen minutes beyond that.

Something was wrong.

Bo went outside to stand on the porch for a couple of minutes, thinking and trying to fight down fear. He had to do something. He had to find Luke. He didn’t know which way to go, but he had to try. He swallowed hard and ran to the barn, quickly grabbing Caesar, the big plowhorse, out of his stall and bridling him. Then the blond boy leapt up with all his strength onto the broad back and nudged the gray gelding into a trot.

He rode in the direction he’d seen Luke head off in, then, unsure where to go, started circling the farm in ever-increasing circles. He was starting to panic that he’d somehow missed seeing him when he saw something on a rise next to the streambank. Something brightly colored. Luke had been wearing a red and blue shirt. He kicked Caesar into a canter up the sandy bank, reining to a halt hard next to his fallen cousin and jumping down.

“Lukas…” He bit his lip hard, then let go abruptly, tasting blood. He trembled as he knelt down and put his hand on his older cousin’s cheek. He couldn’t be left alone… he couldn’t!! “Luke, please!” He wasn’t quite sure how to find a pulse, so he yanked open Luke’s shirt and pressed his palm down over his heart. He felt a strong, steady beat, and breathed out in relief. A relief that halted with a hitch in his breathing when he saw it.

A trap. A large wolf trap had snapped shut around Luke’s right foot, the teeth buried deep in his boot. Bo cried out in a mix of anger and empathetic pain and scrambled over to wrap his fingers around the powerful jaws. The smooth steel edges bit into his fingers painfully, but with a strength he hadn’t known he had, he pried the trap loose from his cousin’s foot and tossed it away with a snarl. As he did, he noticed the rifle lying on the ground nearby, and the dead fox a short distance away. “You did this,” he hissed at the still animal.

The younger boy pulled the mangled boot off, hands shaking, and took off his own t-shirt. He tore the fabric into strips and bandaged the wound as best he could. It was a good thing he wasn’t afraid of blood, he thought. As he finished, his cousin jerked halfway up, shouting and striking out with one hand, and Bo jumped away.

“Lukas?”

“Bo…” Luke squeezed wide eyes shut, breathing hard and fast. Bo wondered what was wrong, besides the pain. That had been a shout of fear and anger. “Cuz…” He swallowed and looked at him again. “My foot…”

The blond cousin sniffed back tears. He had to stay strong, for now at least. “I know. I took the trap off.”

“You did?”

“Uh-huh. It was hard, but I did it. Luke, are you okay?”

“No. Bo…”

The younger boy gripped his hand. “I’ve got Caesar with me. Can you get up on him?”

“I don’t know.” Luke swallowed hard again, normally soft and sure blue eyes filled with pain now that the strange terror seemed to be gone. It scared Bo, but he fought to keep a clear head. He had to.

“If I help?”

The dark-haired Duke breathed out hard once. “Bo, I don’t think so.”

“Lukas…” His voice trembled, and he tried to calm himself again. It wasn’t working too well.

Luke’s hand gripped his with reassuring strength. “Bo. Bo, listen to me. Stay calm. Stay cool. You’ve got to go call Cooter. Do you understand?”

“Can’t leave you alone-”

“Bo!” The sharp tone made him flinch, but then it softened. “Please! I need help. You’re not strong enough, little cuz. I love you, and I know you’re scared, but you’ll just have to trust me. You have to go get Cooter. Do you understand?” he repeated.

“Y-yeah.” Bo swallowed.

“Good.” The older boy laid back, closing his eyes and shuddering. “I’ve been worse hurt before. I’ll be all right. Now just please go.”

“Okay.” The blond fifteen-year-old snapped himself into action and leapt up, grabbing Caesar’s reins to pull his head up

out of a bush, leaping onto his back, and kicking him viciously into a gallop from a standstill.

He channeled all his fear into the strength to wrap his legs around the broad equine chest and hold on as he took the big horse around trees and over fallen logs like a steeplechaser. He leaped off as he pulled to a stop in the Duke front yard and ran inside. His fingers fumbled with the CB set.

“Cooter, Cooter Davenport. Crazy C, you out there? This is Bo Duke. Come back.” He paused, then tried again. “CC, you home? Come back!”

“Crazy Cooter comin’ atcha,” a reply finally came. “Bo, little buddy, what’s up?”

Bo for once ignored the teasing jibe at his younger age. “Cooter, Luke’s hurt.”

The reply was instantly serious. “Hurt? Like how? Where are you? Don’t tell me you crashed my car.”

“No! Luke’s in the woods back of our place. He got caught in an old trap. I can’t lift him onto Caesar’s back, and-”

“Okay,” the mechanic cut him off. “I’m comin’ your way with a tow job. Mr. Haggen ran into a ditch, and I just might have what we need. I’m almost there. Hold on, Bo.”

Bo nodded shakily, then realized that Cooter couldn’t see him. “Yeah. Okay. Hurry!”

“I’m gone. Out.”

The blond teenager paced around the house, refusing to cry however much he wanted to, then, guiltily remembering, went outside to see to Caesar. The tired horse was pulling up weeds next to the house. Bo grabbed his reins and led him into the pasture, hugging the sweaty neck before turning the big gelding loose. Caesar shook his mane and trotted away to roll in the dirt and cool off.

The rattle of chain and the roar of an engine finally came around the bend, and Bo ran up to meet the tow truck. Without a word, Cooter jumped out and let down the jeep attached to the rear of the truck, and jumped into the small vehicle. The motor started after a couple of tries. “Get in,” he finally said. “Old man Haggen won’t mind, I don’t think.”

Bo jumped aboard. Having had a bit of time to think about it, he knew where Luke was. “Go up Johnson’s Creek,” he ordered.

“Righto.” The adult didn’t seem to mind being told what to do this once. He spun the wheel and they sped down the drive and the main road, then bounced off the road at the stream crossing to follow it up through Duke land. Both were silent, lost in their own thoughts and fears, until Bo finally pointed.

“Just up there. C’mon!” He leapt out of the jeep and ran over to where his older cousin lay unmoving, sliding to a halt on his knees beside him. “Lukas? Luke, it’s me, I’m back. I got Cooter. Luke?”

“Move,” Cooter ordered him from behind, shoving him aside. “He’s out, Bo, he’s not gonna wake up.” The muscular young man checked his friend’s pulse, then ran his hand over his head, wincing. “He’s got a bad bump here.” He opened Luke’s eyelids and peered at his pupils, then carefully lifted him into his arms and carried him the short distance to the jeep. Bo trailed close behind.

“Will he be all right?”

“Yeah. Probably. Start the engine.” While the younger boy did as he asked, Cooter laid Luke in the back seat then jumped behind the wheel, rubbing one arm with the other and flexing strained muscles. “That cousin of yours is no featherweight, that’s for sure. Make sure he don’t bump around. He’s got quite a concussion.”

Bo wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but it sounded bad. He climbed into the back seat, scared to see his stronger, braver cousin still and vulnerable like this, and rested the dark head in his lap. “Luke…” he whispered as they rattled back toward the road. Then he looked up at the sky, squinting. “God? Don’t let Luke be hurt bad. Please,” he whispered. I need him.

 

* * * * *

 

His head hurt.

That was the first thing he noticed. Next thing was that his foot hurt. Instant instinctive panic swamped him, and he fought to get his eyes open. He was injured, lost; the enemy would find him and then who knew what would happen?! He struggled with all the strength he had for complete consciousness, and finally his hand snapped to his side, grabbing for the small handgun. It was gone, and his heart pounded harder. He’d been captured… He tried to cry out in dismay, but for some reason his voice wasn’t working either.

Then he paused, as he realized that he was not in uniform. He was not out on a battlefield, or in an interrogation center. He was on a semi-soft bed, and he smelled something sharp, antiseptic. He knew that smell only too well. Panic started to fade, and his rigid muscles released suddenly, leaving him feeling drained.

Still breathing hard, Luke cracked open his eyes slowly against the bright light, and looked around. Slowly, the visions of Vietnam dissipated as he remembered what had happened. The fox, the trap. Bo. He wasn’t in a real hospital; probably at the clinic in Hazzard.

“You’re awake.”

He turned his head quickly — too quickly, he winced — to see a pretty young blonde nurse, one of the few faces in Hazzard still unfamiliar to him, smiling at him. She touched his head briefly, making him flinch, then scribbled something on her pad. Then she held her pen up.

“Follow this with your eyes, please, Mr. Duke.”

Banishing the past to the back of his mind, Luke tried to obey, then squeezed his eyes shut. It was hard, hurt.

“Hmm.” It wasn’t a happy sound. “You’ve still got a concussion. You know, you’re one very lucky man. You hit your head hard enough that if you didn’t have such a hard skull you could have-” She broke off abruptly.

He declined to answer. He remembered everything now. Remembered telling Bo to go for help, practically forcing the younger boy away. He swallowed. “Bo. Where’s Bo?”

“Who?”

He forced his eyes open again, and made them focus on her face. “My little cousin… well, not so little, I guess. Almost sixteen, six foot, blond. Prob’ly scared.”

“Oh…” She nodded, smiling slightly. “Him. He’s out in the lobby, refused to leave.”

“Yeah. Let him in. Please?”

The nurse frowned now. “Mr. Duke, you’re not really supposed to have visitors…”

Luke summoned a forceful anger. “Let him in!”

She jumped slightly, then shrugged and sighed, shaking her head. “All right.” She went out the door, muttering to herself about difficult patients. Luke didn’t really care.

A minute later, Bo burst through the door, eyes wide. The white around the dark blue was tinged with red, proving that he’d been crying. “Lukas!” he cried, throwing himself onto his older cousin. Luke gasped air back into his lungs, but didn’t reprimand, just wrapped his arms around the shaking boy and held him.

“Shh. Bo, shh. It’s okay, I’m okay. Calm down. Shh…”

The shivering finally calmed into quiet, deep sobs, then after a bit, even those slowed and stopped. Bo moved off his ribs and lay still next to him for several minutes, then lifted his head. Tear lines streaked down his cheeks. Luke smiled.

“I’m okay. Least, I will be.”

“I thought- I almost thought you wouldn’t wake up.”

Luke shook his head, then regretted it as the room started spinning. He shut his eyes again and dropped his head back to the pillow. “Shh, little cuz. I’m not hurt bad, honest.”

“I wasn’t sure.” Bo sniffed, burying his face in his older cousin’s shoulder. He shuddered hard once, then sighed. “I tried, but I couldn’t keep from being scared,” he confided quietly. “I love you, Lukas. I need you.”

“I know.” Luke hugged him tight with one arm, not opening his eyes. “I know. And there’s nothing wrong with bein’ scared. I’m proud of you, cousin, really.”

“Really?”

“Yep. You prob’ly saved my life.”

“Really?” Surprise was so evident in Bo’s voice that Luke didn’t even have to look at him to see the expression on his face

as he half sat up.

“Yeah.”

“Wow.” A short silence. “You got that fox, you know. And Cooter and Anna were here earlier. They’re both comin’ out to the farm to check on you tomorrow.”

“Oh.” For some reason, he wasn’t real thrilled. Though he didn’t really mind either. He was just so tired…

“Lukas?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you really have died?”

He frowned to himself, remembering the visions and shuddering inwardly. But he couldn’t show weakness in front of Bo, not now, when the younger boy needed his strength. He finally sighed and replied, “I promised I’d never leave you again, didn’t I?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, Uncle Jesse taught me to never break a promise.”

He felt the other’s smile against his shoulder as the younger boy snuggled back down. “Can I stay here? Please? They don’t want me to stay, even out in the lobby, but…”

“I do,” Luke said firmly. “Just relax. Rest. I’ll handle the staff. We’ll sleep together tonight, okay? I assume it is night cause there’s no sun comin’ through that window.”

“Yeah… Okay.” Bo moved away a little, pulling the thin blankets back, then crawled in beside him.

Luke winced slightly. “Don’t bump my foot, Bo. And take off your boots.”

“I won’t.” The younger boy’s voice was mildly affronted. “And I did.”

“Okay.” He moved sideways in the narrow medical bed to try to make room. “C’mere.”

After Bo had gone to sleep, which didn’t take long, Luke sighed and turned his head, still keeping his eyes shut, and rested his cheek on his cousin’s head. Tears trickled down his face, dampening the thick blond hair. His mind, despite all his wishes, wandered back to when he’d woken up. The terror, the feeling of being lost… It was over. Over! He hadn’t been badly hurt then or now; he was home forever. So why did he have to start seeing the horror again?

He wanted to forget. He’d been doing a pretty good job of it until he was injured. Would this happen from now on whenever he was hurt?

“Oh, Lord,” he whispered, half an exclamation, half a fervent prayer. “Please, no more. No more.”

He tightened his hold around Bo slightly, protectively. He’d meant what he’d said. He’d promised his cousin he would stay to take care of him, be strong for him. He’d keep that promise.

Even if it meant defying visions of death itself.