by: Sarah Stodola

 

Luke woke early, having slept peacefully despite his worries of the previous day, and headed straight for a shower, and after that the kitchen. He’d been no cook before, and Bo even less of one, but they’d had to get out that old cookbook and figure it out if they didn’t want to starve, and starving was about the last thing they’d wanted to do. So, both boys, though mostly himself, had learned how to make meals.

He quickly fried strips of bacon, then scrambled some eggs in the leftover grease, and with what was left after that, heated up some of Sunday’s hash browns that had been in the icebox. Spreading the crispy potatoes on the bottoms of two plates, he dumped the eggs on top, laid bacon on top of that, lightly salted the whole mess, and went to go locate his younger cousin.

Bo was easy to find. He was still in bed. Or rather, on the bed. The lightweight covers were rumpled, kicked aside and down, and the blond boy lay half-sprawled on his back at a diagonal across the mattress, with his head a good foot from his pillow. He was sleeping soundly, his breathing deep.

Luke stood in the doorway for a few seconds, just watching his little cousin and feeling a warmth creep up inside of him. The warmth stole into his eyes, and finally into a smile. The scene was so peaceful, though messy, that he almost didn’t want to disturb it. But then Bo mumbled something, head moving and lines around his eyes tightening, and the older cousin took instant notice, moving over to the bed as quickly as he could, his foot complaining with a twinge that he ignored, and kneeling down.

“Bo? Bo, little cuz. Wake up.” He put both hands on his cousin’s shoulders, and Bo jerked, then dark blue eyes blinked dazedly open.

“Lukas?”

“Shh. Yeah, it’s me. Good mornin’, and happy birthday.”

“Mornin’..?” He twisted to see the sun outside the window. “Early…”

“You were startin’ to dream.” Luke knew those dreams from long experience. It was ironic, he thought, that while he was the one who’d seen all the horrors the world had to offer, it was Bo who had nightmares. “Besides, I was comin’ to get you up anyway. Breakfast’s ready.”

“Breakfast?” Though still sleepy, the younger boy sat up halfway and shook his head as if to clear it. As the smells filling the house reached his brain, he brightened up. “Oh!”

Luke chuckled. Always hungry, this kid, he thought fondly. “You’ll have to get up and get dressed before you get any,” he said, standing and moving away toward the door. “Hurry up or I might eat it all,” he teased, knowing he couldn’t eat that much if he wanted to. But the light prod shot Bo into action.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin.” Rolling off the bed onto his feet, he shed his pajamas and grabbed for the jeans draped over the foot of his bed. Luke watched amusedly as the blond cousin spun around, looking for his shirt, and finally grabbed it off the closet doorknob. The moment everything was snapped and tucked in and buckled, Bo leapt for him for a good-morning hug.

Luke laughed, willingly fulfilling the rough, boyish, yet childish need for touch that his young cousin might never outgrow. Truth was, he had to admit, he kinda liked it too. He’d never have told any of the macho guys in the Marines, but he enjoyed making Bo happy. And in turn, Bo always knew, almost empathically, whenever he needed a friend, a hug to cheer him up or bring him down off the ceiling of stress. Luke had finally decided that Uncle Jesse had been right once again — everybody needed somebody.

The two young Dukes, in no need to be anywhere at any particular time for once, because Cooter couldn’t meet with them today and they needed a break before the race anyway, savored breakfast. It wasn’t just the food, Luke thought. It was the companionship, the chance to simply talk, or even just be without saying a word. It was the sunshine coming through the kitchen window, the summer flies already buzzing outside the open screen door, the contented unassuming cackle of chickens in the yard, a whinny drifting up from the pasture on a breeze as someone rode by on another horse.

It was the just being that was so wonderful. And he was sure now that they’d always have this. No matter what they had to do to keep the farm, they’d keep it. Luke’s mind wandered briefly to business. After the race tomorrow, he’d decided, though he hadn’t told Bo, waiting for it to be a sort of birthday surprise, he was going to buy the General Lee. It would take the rest of the cattle being sold off to do so, but he would. If Bo was as good a driver on the track as he was at racing down back roads and jumping obstacles, maybe the boys could race for money this winter. And then, next spring, when the ground was soft and the soil replenished, then they’d head out to follow in Jesse and many other Dukes’ footsteps. Their guardian had taught all his kids well, and one of the things he had taught them was how to live on the land, off the land, with the land. The soil, not raising livestock, was in the Duke blood, and next year, Luke would start out right.

“What’re you thinkin’?” Bo broke into his reverie.

He glanced over, then smiled mysteriously. “A secret, cuz.”

“A secret?” The younger boy brightened up.

“Uh-huh. A birthday secret. You’ll love it.”

Bo grinned, then, knowing from a long period of trying that further pressure would get him nowhere until Luke was ready to tell him, finished off his breakfast and stood, carrying his cousin’s empty plate as well as his own to the sink and starting to run water. Luke smiled yet again. His younger cousin had taken over some jobs smoothly when his foot had been injured, dishes among them. Luke still had to dry, but he would sit down while doing so. Even now, with his foot nearly healed, the routine was the same as it had been for the past month.

Then the two went outside to tend to minor chores, such as feeding the chickens, the goat, Janey, and the big gray Percheron, Caesar. Luke had decided, while thinking of what he would sell off, that the horse and goat would stay; they were almost pets. The steers and milk cows, now, they would go. Some of the chickens would likely become winter meals, so they’d stay too. They had some purpose.

He patted Janey absently as she munched her grain and glanced over at the General Lee, so strong and proud yet sitting so sedately in the front yard next to the old pickup. It almost seemed alive at times, and reminded him of a fierce yet gentle lion. That car was theirs in every way but name. Cooter knew it. Everybody in town who’d seen it knew it. And Luke and Bo knew it too. Soon, it would be theirs in every sense. The summer’s-end race was tomorrow.

“Luke!”

He turned as the younger Duke ran over from the barn, eggs in his hands. “What?”

“The eggs have hatched! We’ve got baby chicks!” The boy was completely delighted, and could hardly stay still. Luke held out both hands and headed off disaster.

“Go put those in the house before they break. Then we’ll go see.”

“Okay!” Bo ran past him, the screen door slamming once as he went indoors, then again as he came out. The two went together to the barn, and Luke warded off the snappish hen long enough to check and make sure that all the eggs had hatched. There was one that hadn’t. He handed the chicken to Bo and picked the egg up, turning it over and holding it up to the sun. He shook it gently. It didn’t slosh around inside, so it wasn’t rotten. Just a late hatcher. He set the egg back down in the straw hollow the hen had created, cleaned the old shells out of the nest, and let Mama go back to her loudly complaining babies. She clucked and poked each one, ruffling her feathers and giving the boys a baleful red-eyed glare before settling down on top of her brood.

“We’re gonna have to get some chick feed,” Luke told his younger cousin. “Pretty quick here too, cause they’re born hungry.” He quirked a little grin at Bo. “You were too, as I recall.”

The teenager mock-glared at him. “How would you know?”

“I was four. I was there. Besides, Uncle Jesse used to joke about it.” He ruffled the as-normal messy blond hair, and got the usual complaint and slap away, but both were smiling. “C’mon. Might as well go now. We’ve gotta pick up a new pipe for under the sink, too,” he explained as he headed out of the barn, not bothering to look back. He knew Bo was right on his heels. He almost always was. “I just can’t fix that leak anymore.”

“It’s cracked.”

“Uh-huh. I know.” He still felt in a teasing mood. “What, you an expert plumber as well as race driver?”

The younger boy predictably jumped at him. Luke sidestepped away, laughing, and accidentally put his full weight on his bad foot.

“Yow!” He stumbled, breaking his fall with his hands. He grimaced as he sat up, brushing dust off himself. “Ouch.”

“Luke! You okay?” Bo was kneeling down beside him, eyes wide and worried.

“Yeah.” He sighed explosively. “I just forgot I still can’t run. Or somethin’ equally as dumb.” He reached down to feel his ankle, and winced. “Wonderful. Now I not only have a healing foot, I’ve got a sprained ankle too.”

“Same leg? Good.”

“Good?!”

“Yeah. You couldn’t get around at all if both feet were hurt,” Bo pointed out sensibly.

His older cousin almost snapped back, but paused, then shook his head. “You’re right. Dang, this hurts though.”

“Lemme see.” Bo’s hands, quick and deft, pulled off his boot before he had time to complain, and lightly fingered the swelling joint. “Don’t look too bad.”

“Oh, great. Now you’re a doctor too.”

“Quit bein’ sarcastic or I won’t help.”

Luke shut up.

Bo helped him up, letting him put his weight on his thin shoulders, and the two started towards the house. Luke sat down gratefully on the porch steps while the younger Duke went inside for some bandaging, then helped wrap his ankle tightly so it couldn’t move too much. He stood carefully, but he was limping badly again, and knew he wouldn’t be able to go much of anywhere today.

“Okay, Bo.” He dug in his pocket for his car keys, and held them out. “You’ll have to go into town without me, stupid as I was.”

The blond boy’s eyes grew wide. “But… Luke, I’m not supposed to drive without you! I don’t have my license yet!”

Yep. They’d been going to go do the test today. Maybe he could get Cooter to take him to Capitol City this afternoon… “Cousin, if you’re good enough to race on your own, you’re good enough to drive into town on your own. Just don’t do anything crazy and get Rosco payin’ attention to you, and you’ll be fine.” He grimaced in annoyance, directed mostly at himself. “I’m gonna be sittin’ down all day. Just get some feed and don’t forget the piping, and come right back.”

“Well…” He was obviously nervous, but excitedly so. Luke smiled to himself. He’d felt the same way the first time Uncle Jesse had handed him the keys and waved him off on his own.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine,” he encouraged.

Finally, Bo reached out and took the keys. “I’ll be careful,” he promised.

“You’d better.” But the admonition was tempered by a smile. “Now, help me up the stairs, would you?”

**

The General Lee growled down the road, its young driver keeping carefully below the speed limit, as easy as it was in this car to just touch the gas a little harder and leap out to race the wind. Bo had gotten over the nervousness less then a mile from home, and was now feeling very excited. He was out here. Alone. Not on a test track that Luke and Cooter had set up for him, but on the open road.

He felt proud, free, and the car underneath him almost seemed to echo the feeling in the very way it moved. General Lee was light-handling, yet needed a firm grip too. The gas needed a soft foot, and the brake a harder one. It was probably one of the more complicated cars in Hazzard, and Bo was proud of being able to drive it so easily. Luke’s words the first time he’d been behind this wheel came back to mind — “If you can master this car, you can drive anything.” He giggled quietly to himself in a quick burst of glee.

There was a log half-blocking the road ahead. His mind snapped quickly from one thought to another. The General was a wide car. About so wide… He measured the car’s width in his head, then the width of the open space. He could go around it. Barely, but he could. But… it was more fun to fly. No cops around. Okay.

The entire decision-making process had taken him less than a second. Bo often forgot that most others couldn’t think as fast as he could. But he hadn’t told anyone about it, even Luke, though he planned to someday. He knew it was unusual, another reason for the kids to tease him if they found out. They did enough of that already, though he didn’t always know why.

Nevermind that. Here came the log… just enough room to get up speed, and a perfect little dip just before it. Oh, this was too good a setup to ever pass up. He set himself firmly in his seat, gripped the wheel tightly, and stepped down on the accelerator. The General leapt almost out from under him, throwing him back in his seat a bit. The barrier, the jump, was coming closer… closer… Now! “Yee-haaa!” Bo shouted in glee and triumph as they took flight. The landing wasn’t too rough, and he took a moment to pride himself on that, pulling away at a much more legal speed.

A little bit of that out of his system, Bo continued to town, picked up what Luke had told him to, putting it on the Duke account, and after a bit of deliberation, quickly enough that most people would think it an impulsive decision (though it was a bit of that), picked up a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream. He started back for the farm without stopping to talk to any of his friends; the ice cream would soften quickly in this heat.

“Hey, Duke! So your mama let you drive?”

The shout startled him out of his thoughts halfway home, and he jerked the steering wheel as he jumped. He quickly straightened the racer out and brought it to a halt, climbing halfway out of the window to yell at the boy who’d called him. “Cut that out, Kenny Jerkins! Luke’s not my mama!”

The other did the same on the door of his gray-white car, and sneered. “He acts like it. And it’s Jenkins, kid.”

Bo smiled sweetly. “Oh?” The slip had not been accidental. This guy needed a major attitude fix. Three years older than Bo, he had long been the local bully of sorts, and seemed to especially enjoy picking on the outcast of the school crowd ever since first grade. When Luke had fought him and won halfway through that year, the older Duke boy had become the subject of acid remarks and put-downs too. “Sorry. Thought the first suited you better.”

Kenny clenched his teeth, muscles along his jaw tightening visibly in anger. He pointed at the General, looking for something else to poke fun at. “What’s that? A clown car?”

Bo’s eyes flashed. He pulled himself up as straight as he could. “He’s a racecar,” he answered coolly. “And we’re gonna beat the tail off everybody else in the summer’s-end race tomorrow. Luke’s already entered us.”

“Can’t believe he’s gonna let you drive. How many times you crashed?”

The blond Duke bit back an angered growl. “None. But I bet I’ve done more than you.” At the challenging eyebrow, he shot, “I jumped that big gulley out by Fairview Crossing. What’d’ya think about that?”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Well, you’d better. Cause it’s true.”

Kenny was eyeing him warily. “Nobody could jump that gulley. Bryan Duncan tried last year and ended up in the hospital.”

“Well, I did it.”

“I don’t believe it,” the older boy repeated.

Bo shrugged nonchalantly, turning away. “Well, I guess that’s your business.”

“Wanna race?”

Bo had started to slide back into his car. He pulled himself back out to eye his lifelong enemy. He knew that Luke wouldn’t want him to. He’d said to come right back once he got what he’d gone to town for. But… Bo had longed for a chance to kick Kenny Jenkins’ butt for almost as long as he could remember. With the General Lee, he knew he could. “Okay,” he finally answered. “To where?”

Kenny grinned meanly. “From here to the Mill Pond Road crossroads. Then you can feel nice and safe, runnin’ home to Luke.”

Bo gritted his teeth, gripping the car door to keep from leaping out and giving the kid the fight he wanted. He knew he’d get pounded into the dirt. “All right. But you’ll be sorry you challenged me ’n General Lee.”

“Let’s go.”

Both boys slid back into their respective cars, revving their engines. Bo narrowed his gaze, giving a quick glance over at his opponent. He’d finally found something he was good at. He was no fighter, wasn’t strong enough for it. He wasn’t built for football either. He’d tried basketball and soccer, but he’d always been pushed around by even his teammates. But here, now… he could drive. Could he ever drive! He’d jumped that gully. He’d pushed the General up past 150 mph, in perfect control. He knew he could beat Kenny.

He was feeling so cocky inside, so confident, that he even tilted his head slightly in deference, letting the older boy start them. Kenny wasn’t one for politeness, and pulled out without a sign he was going to do so, wheels kicking dirt up behind. Bo hit the gas a split-second later, and the race was on.

The gray racer was ahead at first, quick at the take-off like a quarter horse. But the General was speedily gaining the lost ground back, nosing up on his opponent. Bo saw Kenny glance back, and the gray car moved to block the road. Whichever way the young Duke moved, his enemy cut him off, refusing to let him pass.

Bo gritted his teeth in anger, and narrowed his eyes. “C’mon, General,” he found himself talking to the car. “Give it all ya got…” The orange racer seemed to respond, pulling up to the gray’s bumper. Bo pushed forward to tap at it with the General’s nose once, twice, then pulled back slightly. First Uncle Jesse, then Luke, had taught him some small amount of patience, and a lot of honor. He’d give the guy warning before he tried the fancy maneuvers he already had plotted out in his mind. He knew this road with his eyes shut. He knew right where he was going to do what.

Kenny didn’t respond for several seconds, then suddenly seemed to drag, slowing down fast. Only Bo’s quick reflexes kept him from rear-ending his opponent.

That was it! Enough was enough! The blond teenager hit the gas again, bumping into the gray car’s rear not nearly as gently as he had before. The car was jolted forward, and he saw Kenny shake his fist out the window. He only grinned tightly and repeated the procedure, then suddenly dropped back. They were coming up to the finish line. Enough games. Time to strut his and the General Lee’s stuff.

Bo knew even without looking where the log he’d jumped earlier was. He knew the other boy could jump it too; it wasn’t a real hard task for a good Hazzard driver. But the General had more power, and more take-off room. He was gonna show up that snob once and for all. He waited until he was just far enough behind, then stood on the accelerator. The powerful racer responded, pulling up quickly to the car ahead. Kenny saw them coming, and Bo got just a glimpse of his startled expression before the gray car took short flight. Okay… the General Lee was right on his bumper at that point. Normal driving safety would demand that Bo let off on the gas so that he wouldn’t land on the other guy’s tail or roof. But Bo had no such intentions. He wanted to win this race. And he just knew what to do, the same as he had known when jumping that huge ravine. It was something he couldn’t explain, instinctive. He left the ground right after Kenny, not slowing down one bit.

It worked. What he’d had in mind happened as though by magic almost. The General Lee’s incredible take-off speed launched the orange racer up, arcing higher and farther than Kenny’s car. And faster. The gray car jumped. The General flew. Right over the other’s roof, right past, landing rear-wheels-first on the road ahead of him. Bo flashed past the turnoff designated as the finish line, yelling victory.

Carefully, still hyped-up, he slowed and pulled a sharp, broadsiding one-eighty, shuddering to a halt with the General’s nose facing back the way he’d come. He pulled himself out to sit on his car door, then grinned and waved tauntingly as Kenny pulled up.

The other driver piled out of his car with fire in his eyes, and his race bright red. “Bo Duke, I’m gonna-”

What he planned on doing to the smaller boy, Bo never found out. Suddenly there were gunshots, and a bullet whistled past his ear. Yelping in surprise and fear, he slid back into the General just in time as another bullet whizzed past. Yet another gunshot, and Kenny’s windshield shattered. The bully ran for the woods on the side of the road with barely a backwards glance.

Bo didn’t have any time to spend berating him for cowardice, however. He was too busy trying to survive. He made it upright in the driver’s seat and restarted the engine, starting to pull out of there in a big hurry, tires throwing dirt and rocks everywhere.

The engine sputtered and died when another bullet blew a hole in the radiator. Bo was going to have to go on foot. He climbed out, hiding behind the car, then, praying, leapt out in the fastest sprint he’d ever run for the trees. He heard only the soft warning pop of an airgun before something hit him between the shoulder blades, knocking him to the ground. The teenager cried out in pain and rolled over, dislodging the projectile from his back. He stared at the dart for a couple of seconds, his brain numb. Then the thought trickled upwards into his consciousness — he hadn’t been shot to be killed. No bullet. Dart. Why?

He pushed himself up onto hands and knees, braced for another shot. It didn’t come. What did was an incredible wave of dizziness. He shook his head, but it only got worse, until he fell back onto the ground, moaning.

“Well, well. If it isn’t our young NASCAR would-be.”

Bo squinted through the steadily-growing darkness to see the grinning face of a man. It was a dangerous grin, a cold glint in the eyes that accompanied it. He tried to respond, to shoot back with some retort, but even his mouth wasn’t responding to his commands. He cried out in his mind, wishing beyond hope that Luke could somehow hear him, even though he knew he couldn’t. Lying there helpless, unable to move, he could only watch as the man laughed again, then his vision faded away into murky blackness.

Then even that was gone.

**

Something was wrong.

Luke knew it, in that way he had of knowing things about Bo. He’d always known when his younger cousin was in trouble or hurt, had always gotten nervous. As a kid he hadn’t understood the inner promptings, but of late he’d learned to listen. And something was wrong.

It wasn’t just that Bo was late, though that was enough. He did tend to lose track of time sometimes, so it wasn’t cause for much more than mild worry and annoyance. This was more. Luke kicked at the floor with his left foot, angrily wishing that he could pace, or even better, grab that old dinosaur of a pickup and go looking. All sorts of pictures kept floating through his head. The gunmen coming back and shooting Bo. Or an accident. Or the crazy kid trying to jump something he couldn’t.

Then the kitchen door slammed open, at the same time as the front door did. Luke jumped, startled almost out of his skin, and tried to glare in two directions at once as his visitors came running into the living room. Cooter. And… He blinked. Kenny Jenkins, troublemaker. He directed a glare at both. “What’d’ya want?”

Cooter drew himself up, looking serious. “I was out on a tow job, Luke, and I found General Lee. I brought him home, but he’s gonna need some repairs.”

“General..?”

“Yeah, down by the Mill Pond junction. No Bo in sight. The radiator was shot clean through, but the only other damage was a meltin’ box of ice cream in the front seat. Another car, a gray one nearby, weren’t so lucky.”

“That’s mine,” Kenny interrupted. The sincere fear in his voice drew Luke’s attention back to him. The younger boy gulped, then squared his shoulders. “I raced Bo. He won, I admit it. Fair ’n square. But then somebody started shootin’ at us. They broke my windshield, and I ran. I turned when I got to the woods, and saw Bo go down. I don’t know whether he was shot, or tripped, or what. But these two guys ran out and grabbed him, and drove off in a black sedan after shooting out my tires. I had to walk all the way here.” His panting was testament to the fact that he’d probably done more running than walking.

Luke fell back in his chair. The throbbing in his ankle was nothing. Nothing at all. The sudden emptiness inside him was everything, swamping him, threatening to pull him down into it like quicksand. He didn’t even fight for a few seconds, then pulled himself together to raise his head. He had one hope for his little cousin’s survival. “He wasn’t there?”

“Nope,” Cooter shook his head. “Like the kid here said, he must’ve been kidnapped.”

“No blood?”

“Nary a drop,” his mechanic friend assured him. “He weren’t shot, Luke.”

Luke gritted his teeth determinedly and, ignoring his aching foot and suddenly screaming ankle, stood briefly. “We’re gonna get him back.” He fell back onto the chair, grimacing in anger and frustration. He felt ready to tear something apart. “Or maybe it’ll be you, Cooter, instead of we.” He transferred his gaze. “Go home, Kenny, and thanks.” The boy left, and the older Duke looked back at his friend. “Cooter, call Anna. And Rosco. I’d think he’d help with a kidnapping, even if he’s crooked in other ways.”

“Sure thing.” Cooter put a hand on his shoulder, and headed for the phone. Luke dropped his forehead to his palm.

No. This couldn’t be happening. Not to Bo. He had to rescue his cousin. Even if it took hurting himself worse than he already was. He’d suffer ten broken bones as long as Bo was safe and alive. While nobody was there to see, he squeezed his eyes together, letting out a soft, pain-filled moan that came from deep down inside him. He’d rarely cried, not when he was hurt, not when his friends had died in battle. But now he did. Tears trickled through between his eyelids, and he shuddered hard. “Lord,” he prayed. “Oh, Lord. Keep him safe. Keep him safe. Don’t let him get killed. Please! I need him. You know that. He’s so young…”

He raised his head, trying to wipe away tears unobtrusively as Cooter came back into the room, face grave.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Anna’s on her way. Rosco says he can’t come.”

“What?!!” Fury rose up inside of Luke, mingling with the fear in a roiling pot of emotion, all of which he kept carefully hidden, only letting his eyes flash briefly.

“He says he wants to, but Boss won’t let him leave the police station.”

“Boss!” The word escaped as a hiss. So that was it! He was behind everything! The cheat! The liar! The thief… But he was no killer. At least there was that. If Bo was in his hands, he’d be alive and relatively unharmed. “He did it!”

“Looks that way,” Cooter agreed. “So now what?”

Luke narrowed his eyes and grinned tightly, dangerously. Gripping the arms of his chair, he rose carefully. “We go get Bo back. Ready for a bit of a fight?”

The mechanic grinned. “Let me at ’em.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

Dizziness. Darkness. But the first was going away. The second… Bo blinked and opened his eyes wide. It didn’t get any brighter. Then the rest of his senses kicked in, telling him that something was tied around his head. He was blindfolded. His hands were tied too. He stirred, trying to stay quiet, and raised his head to hear whatever he could.

A chuckle. “The kid’s awake.”

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Where am I?” He flinched when a hand grabbed the front of his shirt, out of nowhere, and pulled him up toward whiskey-laden breath. He wrinkled his nose and tried to squirm away.

“That’s none of your beeswax, kid. You just stay put and be a good little boy.”

“Well, I got a right to know who I’m gonna spend my birthday with,” the boy shot back.

“Shut up!”

In anger, Bo raised one leg and lashed out with all his strength. He felt his foot hit the man holding him, and fell back onto what had to be some kind of hard, narrow bed. The man gasped breath back, then growled and struck, slapping the boy so hard across the jaw that his head snapped sideways. He fought back tears and stayed still.

“Blasted kid!” his victim hissed.

“You okay?” Another adult male voice.

“Yeah. For not bein’ able to see, and bein’ handicapped, he’s got one good aim.”

Not really, Bo thought. If the guy was still standing, he had missed his intended target. What surprised him was that the guy called him… handicapped. Why? He wasn’t the one hurt, Luke was. He flexed his jaw, wincing. “What do you want with me?”

“Nothin’.” It was a disgusted snort. “But our employer’s payin’ us good money to keep you out of the way until after that race tomorrow, so here you stay.”

“You got paid to kidnap me?” He was still afraid, but curiosity was rapidly taking over. “Who’d do that?”

“Somebody. Now shut up, kid. Don’t you know how? We’re tryin’ to play checkers over here.”

Bo swallowed and licked dry lips. “Can I have a drink?”

For a bit, he thought they wouldn’t answer him, then he heard the sound of a chair or something being scraped back, and a few seconds later, a paper cup was put to his lips. It was water. He almost choked when his captor tilted the cup to try to get this over with quickly, but somehow managed to swallow, though he was coughing as he turned his face away.

“Thank you.” As much as he disliked this man, he’d been brought up to manners all his life.

A scoffing laugh. “You’re the polite little one, ain’tcha? Now shut up like a good little boy.” Footsteps moved away.

Bo leaned back onto the bed, breathing deeply to keep from tears. “Lukas…” he whispered, quietly enough so the others wouldn’t hear him. “Lukas…” A wave of despair for a moment assaulted him, then he shook it off. But he still was suddenly aware that he didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know whose hands he was in. He didn’t know why. The bad guys kept acting as though he were a little child, scoffing like he was unimportant, and that unnerved him too. He felt lost, and little, and alone, and scared. The tears leaked from his eyes despite his trying not to cry, and he turned onto his side so that his back was toward the men. He couldn’t even see. He felt helpless.

But through the emotions, he remembered something that Uncle Jesse had always said. “The Good Lord takes care of his own.” He’d said that whenever they were in trouble, or a crop had failed, or an animal had died. The Lord listened to Uncle Jesse. He even listened to Luke. So maybe… Bo swallowed, fighting back more tears. “God?” he whispered. “I’m lost, and scared. I don’t know where I am. Please help Luke find me. Amen.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

“Rosco P. Coltrane!!”

The sheriff flinched, and spun around in his chair as Cooter Davenport came stalking into the booking room. “What do you want?”

“You know good and well what I want.” The mechanic strode up to the desk and leaned on it, eyes narrow and deadly. Rosco surpressed a shiver. “I called you not thirty minutes ago to tell ya that Bo Duke was kidnapped. You said you couldn’t come.”

“Boss wouldn’t let me,” he tried to defend himself.

“An’ you can’t go against a thing he says?” Cooter bit out angrily. “You’re the sheriff, not him!”

“He owns my job…” Rosco spread his hands out to show that he was helpless. The one confronting him didn’t look particularly sympathetic.

“Yeah. He owns your job.”

Rosco turned to look at the door again at the third voice. Luke Duke was standing there, leaning against the doorjamb, eyes burning with a barely-contained fire. “Wait, Luke…”

“Don’t ‘wait, Luke’ me.” The dark-haired Duke straightened and limped into the room. “Does Boss know where my little cousin is?”

The sheriff fumbled with his answer. He didn’t like what Boss was doing, yet…

Suddenly Cooter reached out and grabbed him by his tie, pulling him up and forward. “Coltrane,” he warned.

“All right, all right!” He snatched the tie away, loosening it and rubbing his throat. “He knows. But he won’t admit to it. He won’t even tell me. An’ he ain’t here,” he added as the pair made to head toward Boss’ office. “I don’t know where he is, neither. He left just after you called.” He winced. “If he finds out that I told you…”

“We ain’t tellin,” Cooter told him. “Thanks for all your help.” It was spat out sarcastically. The mechanic turned and took Luke, who looked rooted to the floor and about to do some damage, by the arm. “C’mon, Luke. We’ll go searchin’ ourselves in the tow truck.”

The older Duke stood firm for a second, looking Rosco right in the eye with icy blue eyes. “If you find anything out, Rosco, and don’t tell us, so help me I’ll-” He broke off abruptly, spinning on his good foot to do his best at stalking out of the police station, Cooter right beside him.

Rosco sat down and sighed in relief. He hadn’t actually thought that Boss would go this far. And the thought was sobering. He hadn’t even responded to the invaders in his normal fashion. He’d felt too serious. This was getting out of hand. He had to find Boss Hogg.

With that he rose, grabbing his hat and jogging out the door to his police cruiser.

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

Bo was jolted awake again in maybe the worst fashion he could imagine right now. He coughed and choked, rolling over on his side and shaking the water out of his face. He blinked… and suddenly realized that he could see. The blindfold was gone, though his hands were still tied. He snapped his head around to the side and glared up at an unshaven man with a bucket still in his hand.

The man laughed. “So you don’t like that, huh?”

Bo responded wordlessly, kicking out swiftly. His captor barely jumped aside in time to avoid being hit.

“Now that ain’t very nice, boy,” he warned, voice low and deadly. “We ain’t hurt you. Yet.”

“Who are you?” Bo demanded again.

“Oh, tell him,” came the other voice. “Maybe he’ll shut up.” The blond boy turned his head to see another man, with longish black hair, sitting on an old wooden box. “Kid, his name’s Rogers and mine’s Daniels. Good enough? Now shut up. You sure have a lot of questions for a little boy.”

A surge of angry rebellion rose up in Bo’s chest with the speed of a hurricane. “I ain’t a little boy!” he shouted. “Quit callin’ me that! Leave me alone! Lemme go!”

Rogers drew back and struck him across the face, hard. Bo rolled as far away as he could, pressing up against the wall. “You shut your trap before I do it for you,” the crook threatened. “I ain’t never liked kids, and talkative ones especially.”

“Well, you got yourself a talkative one,” Bo shot back.

The man bared his teeth. “You hungry? Want a knuckle sandwich?”

“Oh, get back here,” Daniels snapped. “Leave the kid alone. He’s just actin’ like the scared little brat he is. And Hogg said to not hurt him.”

“I could care less about what Hogg wants.”

Bo stared, eyes widening slowly as he finally understood. “Boss Hogg paid you, didn’t he? You’re the ones who’ve been causing us trouble all along!”

Rogers spun on him. “I said, shut up! I don’t wanna hear one more word outta you!” He stomped away, and Bo decided that maybe he should be quiet for a bit. His jaw hurt enough as it was, and the entire side of his face still stung.

He looked around. He was in some sort of cabin. Or maybe shack was more like it. The place was small, dingy, and dusty. Tatters hung from the two windows, and the door was a slab of wood that looked worm-eaten and about to fall off its meager hinges. He wondered if he was in hillbilly territory. This looked like a shack of theirs. One in such bad shape that even they’d abandoned it.

Boxes were the only seats in the place. There was one rickety table, and this poor excuse for a bed that he was lying on. Well, he decided, it was better than the floor. Who knew what creepy crawlies lived down there? Bo shuddered. If there was anything he was really scared of under any circumstances, it was spiders.

Then Rogers, who’d been talking to his partner in the corner, turned around, smiling dangerously, and Bo saw something he was terrified of even more. His eyes widened as far as possible, and he fought to sit up.

“Oh, settle down. It’s just gonna put you to sleep so’s you’ll won’t be as much trouble.” The man studied the hypodermic syringe in his hand and smiled coldly.

Trouble? They hadn’t seen trouble yet! Fear and anger mixed in Bo into strength, and he tensed, then suddenly sprang off the bed, butting Rogers in the middle with his head and racing for the door. The old latch gave way easily, and he ran across the small clearing for the trees.

He heard pounding footsteps behind him, faster than his, and he was grabbed by the arm and swung around. His back slammed into the ground as he fell, knocking the wind out of him. He shook as he saw the angry face coming down near his. “I’ve had enough of you,” Rogers hissed. “If it was up to me, I’d kill you right here and now and get it over with.”

“No…” Bo felt humiliated inside, showing such fear. But it was like he couldn’t control his own actions. Wonderful. Now they’d make fun of him even more. “Please…”

“I said I’d like to kill you, not that I’m gonna. Now sit still.” He brought the needle down.

Bo lashed out with both feet, fighting like a cornered tiger and knocking his assailant backwards onto his butt in the dirt. He rolled to his feet and stood with tied hands in front of him, to try and ward off further attack. He was almost ashamed of it, but he was terrified of needles. Had been ever since he’d been two years old and had gotten pneumonia. He’d had to have several penicillin shots, Uncle Jesse had said. The teenager didn’t actually remember the event himself, but it had left a lasting impression on him. He was scared enough of the things to fight as if for his life.

“Daniels!” Rogers roared as he climbed to his feet, syringe still in hand. “Hold this kid down!”

Bo hadn’t seen where the other crook had gone, but suddenly an iron grip locked around his upper arms from behind. The blond boy kicked out backwards, feeling the hardness of kneecap against his boot, and the hands let go abruptly with a howl of pain.

Then he was struck across the back of his head so hard that he fell to the ground again, seeing stars. Daniels stood bent over him, grimacing in pain and fury. “Say nighty-night, kid,” he hissed.

Bo shivered, but his head hurt so much that he couldn’t move. He could only watch as Rogers came forward. Daniels pinned him down, and his struggles were to no avail. The needle jabbed into his arm, and everything went black again.

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

They had been searching for some clue as to where Bo was all day. It was nearly sunset now, and still no sign had been seen, even though Luke had called all his friends into the search. He sat next to Cooter in the tow truck’s cab, gritting his teeth to keep tears away and keeping up a constant stream of short, fervent, silent prayers.

“I’m sorry,” his friend finally said, pulling the truck over and turning to look at him. The usually-mischievous face was now very serious. “I don’t know what to say.”

Luke reached out and touched Cooter’s shoulder. “Thank you. You’re doing all you can.”

“I just wish…”

“I know.” He sighed deeply.

The mechanic finally restarted the engine and pulled back onto the road. “I’m gonna take you home.”

“No..!” Luke protested.

“Luke, just you sit there. I’ll keep searching. So will the others. You need some rest. You’re more strained than the rest of us.”

It was true, Luke thought reluctantly. He could barely think anymore. All day, his mind had been filled with worry, and more than a slight touch of fear. He knew Boss Hogg wouldn’t hurt Bo, but the unsavory types he often employed might. And he knew Bo’s temper. The teenager wouldn’t hesitate to say just what he thought. It might get him into trouble.

He just wanted his little cousin back. Alive, unharmed. He wanted that more than he wanted to win tomorrow’s race. Which they wouldn’t anyway with their star driver missing.

It hit him then, and he felt like slapping himself for being so stupid. Boss had had Bo kidnapped because he was the driver. He was still trying to win the race by eliminating the competition. The older Duke muttered a quiet, angry oath.

“What is it?”

He looked over at Cooter. “Boss has him because he wants us out of tomorrow’s race.”

“That dirty, low-down… crook!” Cooter sputtered for lack of a better word.

“Yeah. I should have thought of it right away. I didn’t because I was so scared and stupid…” He made a face at himself.

“We can’t race without Bo. We’ll lose the five hundred dollar entry fee…”

“I know.” That money had taken time to scrape up. All the hopes for the farm had been riding on Bo and the General Lee. They might even lose the farm now. All because Boss Hogg didn’t want to part with ten thousand lousy dollars. Luke felt a hot, boiling anger rise up in him, snapping him completely awake. He looked directly at his mechanic friend. “We ain’t goin’ home, Cooter. I’m gonna call Rosco.” He picked up the CB.

Cooter looked distinctly unhappy, but finally nodded. “Okay.”

“Breaker, breaker. Luke Duke calling Sheriff Coltrane. If you can hear me, get your rear end over to the CB before I kick it there.” That ought to be sufficient enough to let the sheriff know he wasn’t in the best of moods.

It took a few seconds, but finally the reply came. “I’m here, Luke. An’ quit yellin’ at me. I didn’t do nothin’.”

“Yeah. That’s the problem. You didn’t do nothing to stop Boss. Rosco, have you found that white whale yet?”

“Sorry. Even Lulu don’t know where he is. But-”

Luke interrupted him. “Well, you do it. Check still sites, fishing cabins, everything. I’m gonna get Bo back, and if I have to wring a Hogg neck to do it, so much the better.” He smiled a tiny bit, dangerously.

“Uh… okay, Luke. I’ll head back out. I don’t wanna see anything happen to that kid either. I’m gone.”

“You’d better be,” Luke muttered as he slammed the CB mike back down. He was aware of Cooter’s eyes on him, watching him warily, but he didn’t care. He was sick and tired of being afraid. Anger was more his style, and if Boss didn’t cooperate…

“Luke, you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” The reply was short, curt. “Let’s go check up Eagle Ridge.”

“We’ve already been up there.”

“Then we’ll check again.”

Cooter sighed. “Luke, it’s getting dark. Too dark to see far. Let’s go home.”

“No.” He stubbornly looked out the window, hearing an unhappy sigh. Boss had better watch his tail. Because when Luke found him, he was gonna chase it with his uncle’s shotgun from here to Chickasaw. And Sheriff Little hated Boss Hogg.

**

Rosco looked at the CB set in the police station after Luke had hung up, and sighed, putting his chin in his hands. Where to start looking for Boss? The commissioner could be anywhere. And Rosco could lose his job, working with the Dukes.

But if young Bo could be hurt, wasn’t that more important than a job? He stood and strode out of his office, setting his hat on his head and his jaw determinedly.

Enos Strate looked up, eyes shadowed with worry. “Sheriff?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I please go join the search? My shift’s almost up, and…” He trailed off. “I’m worried about Bo,” he finally finished.

Rosco thought for a moment, then nodded. He had too much of a headache already to deal with arguing with his young deputy. “Go on with ya.”

“Thank you, sir!” Enos stood and literally ran out the front door.

Rosco followed at a much more sedate pace.

**

JD Hogg was very much aware that people were looking for both him and Bo Duke, and not very concerned. He sat up by still site number four, chuckling to himself as he warmed his hands by a fire he’d made and thought about his plot. He heard the conversations over the CB and chuckled again. Luke Duke was mad. Well, good. It was good to have his apple cart upended once in a while. It’d keep him on his toes. He heard that Rosco was helping them, and for a moment felt angry, then shrugged it off. The sheriff was honestly concerned about Bo’s whereabouts and welfare.

Boss, on the other hand, knew both. The kid was fine, and hidden where no searchers would ever find him. That old site, nobody knew about. He’d let the boy go after the race tomorrow noon was won, by him.

He smiled again, getting out his calculator and starting again to count up how much he was going to make.

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

Bo woke up with a slight headache to see sunlight streaming through the windows. But he didn’t try to move. He’d had enough of being beat up yesterday. And he didn’t want another shot.

But he had no intentions of staying here, either. He’d been thinking, at intervals off and on through the night whenever he’d woken up uncomfortably, and had finally come to the conclusion that no one was coming for him. They must not have any clue where he was. For that matter, neither did he. But he had to escape somehow. His freedom was in his own hands. He just had to plot and plan to win it.

The thought was a little strange, doing something important, something that required a plan, without Luke’s help. His older cousin was always there to decide what to do. It was rare that Bo had ever had to make a big decision on his own. It excited him a bit, but it scared him too.

What especially upset him was what the two men had said before, and many kids before them. Handicapped. Strange. Weird. A baby. Bo had always shrugged off the names, knowing that his family loved him and nothing else mattered as long as that was true.

Or did it? Was he… strange? Handicapped? Was there something wrong with him? Something Luke had kept from him? Was he really such a ‘little boy’ in others’ eyes? He didn’t really want to think about it. Luke wouldn’t betray him in any way, wouldn’t hurt him. Never. So, no more about that for now.

He wished Luke would show up. He could picture him there, kicking in the door and flying at the two thugs. The pair would be history! Bo grinned to himself. He didn’t know a better fighter than Luke. He could picture him, see those light blue eyes, eyes that could be hard as ice one moment and soft and warm the next. He could almost hear the relieved sigh, see the smile.

But Luke wasn’t there. He was on his own. He didn’t want to be on his own. He didn’t like being on his own. But he seemed to have little choice in the matter. Bo sat halfway up and looked around the room, seeing the two sleeping men snoring on the other side of the one-room shack. They’d tied him to the bed so he couldn’t get away in the middle of the night. They’d wake up soon. It would be best to strike when they least expected it, while they were still sleepy, while they thought he was too.

The blond Duke alternately tensed and relaxed all his muscles, trying to loosen up a bit, and lay back down, staring at the ceiling. There were big cracks there, he noticed. This place would be like a leaky sieve when it rained. He closed his eyes, bit his lip, and started to think. His plan would have to be simple, and fast. He had to get into the woods. He was sure he knew how to get around better in that kind of terrain than his captors.

A grunt sounded from the other side of the room, and Bo looked over there carefully, keeping his eyes mere slits, trying to look like he was still asleep. One of the men, Daniels, was sitting up, yawning.

Now. It had to be now, even if he wasn’t really ready. He’d have no better chance. He opened his eyes, blinking sleepily for effect, then met the crook’s hard dark ones. Good thing he had the ‘poor little innocent me’ act down to perfection, he thought. “Daniels?”

The man glared at him. “What is it?”

He sounded a bit out of it. Bo could see the bottles on the table. All the better if the guy had a hangover. “I…” He had to be outside to have any chance to get away. He cast about quickly for a good excuse, and was abruptly confronted by a real reason that he needed to go outside. “Is there an outhouse or somethin’ ’round here?” he asked.

“Not that I know of.” Daniels rubbed at his forehead. “You need one?”

“…Yeah.” He flushed, a little embarrassed.

The man eyed him for several seconds, then lurched to his feet, looking unsteady. “No tricks.”

“Mister, I’ll show you trick if you don’t let me up.” The urgency in his voice was only half-pretend. The guy expected him to be dumb, like a little kid. He wasn’t sure why, but he might as well act the part. He tried to ignore the fact that he really did feel very young sometimes. “I gotta go, and I’m not lyin’!”

“Okay, okay.” Grumbling, Daniels came over, not so drunk that he was stumbling around, and worked at loosening the knots holding his hands to the bedpost. He untied the ropes around Bo’s hands next, and pulled a gun from his waistband when he was through, motioning with it. “Outside.”

Bo stood up, rubbing his wrists, and headed for the door. He stumbled a little at first because of his legs’ lack of use, but was rapidly regaining his sense of balance. Good thing, too. He would have to be fast on his feet, tricky, because he didn’t have Luke’s strength to just fight his way out of a situation. Besides, Daniels had a gun. When he got outdoors, he stood for a moment, breathing in the clean, cool air gladly, before he was shoved forward.

“C’mon, kid, hurry it up.”

Bo shot a glare back over his shoulder and headed for the treeline, only too aware of the gun pointed casually at his back. “Pushy, pushy,” he muttered to himself.

“Hey! Where’re you going?”

The teenager turned around and stood with chin high in defiance. “To find some bushes. You think I’m gonna let you stand watch over me?”

“Yep.” Daniels hefted his gun. “Kid, if you gotta go that bad, you can live with a little lack of privacy. I can’t afford to give you a chance to escape.”

Bo almost decided to go back indoors, but the nippy morning air was only making his problem worse. He stiffened his back, hissing anger at the man through his teeth, and looked for a big tree.

“Hurry up!” Daniels snapped.

“I am,” he growled quietly. Finally he gave up for the most part. Trying to give himself as much privacy as possible, he hid behind the widest tree he could find.

About halfway along the journey back to the shack, he stopped walking, looking around and enjoying the mountain scenery, keeping all senses alert for a chance to move. This place wouldn’t be half-bad except for the gunman behind him. He’d have to make his move soon. He’d hoped to do it from cover, but Daniels had blown his chance at that. He’d have to hope that the guy’s hangover had dulled his reflexes. He stopped abruptly, letting his guard nearly run into him, then spun around, lashing out with both fists in a quick one-two.

One hit Daniels in the jaw, the other knocked the gun away. It went flying across the clearing. Bo cleared his mind as best as he could and repeated to himself silently the things Luke had taught him. Punch, block, kick, throw another punch with all his weight behind it. Daniels fell to the ground, and Bo started running.

The first gunshots sounded just as he hit the treeline. He prayed that he wouldn’t get hit and kept going. He jumped a rocky creek and dashed up steep hills and down them. Finally, almost spent, he sprang into a tree at the top of a ridge, squirreling his way up with the skill of having practiced ever since he was five years old.

From his leafy refuge and vantage point, he watched Rogers and Daniels searching the woods. One ran past his tree, and then about five minutes later, the other one did. The men were shouting and cursing. Bo winced at their language and put his hands over his ears, trying to breathe quietly. Why was it, he wondered, that whenever you wanted to be quiet, that was just when you had to pant, or cough, or sneeze?

No, don’t even think about sneezing. He couldn’t afford that. He waited, crouched in his tree, for a long time, hours, the sun growing ever higher.

He thought about the race. Luke had staked their futures on winning it. Without him there, and with Luke hurt again so he couldn’t drive… He had to get back by noon. He looked at the sun again, squinting up. Not noon yet. Maybe around ten?

Bo finally climbed down after a long period of inactivity from anywhere around him. He was stiff from crouching so still, and sweating. He peeled off his shirt as he half-slid back down the hill the way he’d come. When he got to the stream, he knelt down and drank, using his hands as a cup, then splashed himself with the cold, clear water, dipping his head. He scrubbed the worst of the water out of his hair with his fingers and stood up, drinking again and then tucking his shirt through his belt so he didn’t have to hold or wear it.

It was time to move. But which way? He was lost. No, he wasn’t really, he amended. Having watched the sun move, he knew which way was east and which was west. But he didn’t know which way home was. He didn’t even know if he was still in Hazzard.

Well, might as well start. The blond teenager chose east, and struck out in a straight line.

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

Hogg was packing up to head to the race, humming happily to himself, when the CB radio squawked. “Hogg! Hogg, you better answer!” It was the voice of one of his latest associates. Hogg frowned at the device, then sighed, walking over to his car and picking up the mike.

“JD Hogg here. What’d’ya want, Rogers?”

“That Duke kid’s hide!” the thug hissed.

Hogg blinked. “Huh? What happened?”

“He escaped! He just took off into the woods and disappeared into thin air!”

“That’s impossible!”

“He did. And we can’t find him anywhere. He could be almost back to Hazzard by now.” The man sounded disgusted. “I just called to let you know one thing, Hogg. We don’t take nicely to being outsmarted by a teenager. We’re gonna find him.”

“Good, good.”

“And we’re gonna kill him.”

Boss’ smile disappeared. He dropped the sandwich he’d been having for breakfast. “No! Wait! Nobody gets hurt, remember?”

“We ain’t workin’ for you no more, Hogg.” Rogers sounded angry enough, cold and deadly enough, to really kill someone. “Just wanted you to know who to blame at the funeral.” The transmission ended with a hiss.

Hogg shook the mike, and tapped it against the dashboard. “Hello? Rogers! Daniels! Wait!” No answer.

Slowly, he fell back in his seat, face drained white. They were going to kill Bo. The kid was annoying, yes. He’d probably win the race if he got to the starting line on time, yes. But even ten thousand dollars wasn’t worth a life, especially one so young and bright and cheerful.

Hogg made his decision. He picked up the CB again and switched channels. “Breaker, breaker. Duke, Davenport. You boys out there?”

**

Luke listened in mixed horror and relief as Boss explained everything that had happened, apologizing for being the cause of their fears, telling him that Bo had escaped, and then dropping the bombshell. The crooks were hunting Bo with intent to kill.

“What?!” he exploded, barely able to see straight for his fearful fury.

“I’m sorry,” Hogg said shakily. “I’ll tell you where he was held; that’s the best I can do.”

“Where’s that?” Luke demanded.

“It was an old still site of mine up on the south end of Devil’s Ridge. I’ll give you directions… write this down.”

Luke scribbled down what he was told, then glared at the CB. “If Bo’s hurt, you’re dead.” He wasn’t quite sure whether he was serious or not. Normally he wouldn’t be, but…

“I take all responsibility,” the Boss said, sounding defeated. “I’ll meet you at the race. Out.”

Luke stared at the wall for a few seconds after he set the mike down, then closed his eyes. “Lord, protect him,” he prayed. Yet, even with Bo in this danger, he felt strangely calmer now that he knew he was alive and running. Finally he reached out and picked up the CB again, switching channels. “This is Lukas Duke. CC, Cooter, you out there? Come back.”

“Might be crazy, but I ain’t dumb. Craaazy Cooter comin’ atcha,” came the answer. “Hey, Luke. Get some sleep?”

“Yeah, some. Cooter, listen. I’ve got a lead as to where Bo is.” He rephrased everything that Boss had confessed to, and then explained about the men who had been holding Bo, the boy’s escape, and the crooks’ threat to kill him if they caught him. “So we gotta find him first,” he finished.

“Way ahead of you, Luke. Boy, that kid has a Duke temper, and brains too. I’m gone. What’s that address again?”

Luke told his friend, asked him to pick him up on the way, then signed off, reached for the telephone, and called Anna to repeat the conversation. She didn’t have a CB radio.

Then he sat back, allowing himself a brief moment of peace and quiet before pushing himself to his feet — or more like foot, as the other still hurt too much to put much weight on — and put his breakfast bowl in the sink. Then he reached for the crutch he was again using, and headed for the living room and his boots. It was time to save his little cousin, and hopefully the farm.

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

Bo walked and climbed for what seemed forever, almost losing track of his surroundings. His entire attention was on the next step, the next rock, the next set of trees to skirt through. His head hurt, his legs hurt, his back hurt.

Suddenly he stumbled, missing a step. Shouting in surprise, he fell, rolling down the hill. He couldn’t stop, only tuck himself into a ball and try to miss the worst rocks. He came to rest on a hard, flat surface. Blinking and shaking his head dazedly, Bo looked up from where he lay on his stomach.

It took several seconds to sink in. When it did, he leapt to his feet and screamed for joy, springing into the air. He’d found a road! A road! He just had to wait for the next car to come by and flag it down!

It didn’t take very long. Bo ran out from his spot under a tree when he saw a dark red sedan coming, running out into the center of the road and waving his arms to signal it to stop. It pulled gently to a halt in front of him, and Anna Darren climbed out without even turning off the engine. She ran up to him and pulled the younger boy into a rough hug. Bo leaned his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes and shuddering in the relief of both being safe and having an adult here to make the decisions now.

“Bo, Bo…” Anna hugged him tighter for a moment, then pulled back to look him over. “We’ve been looking for you since yesterday morning.”

“Wasn’t my fault.”

“I know. Shh.” She frowned and touched his jaw. “What happened here?” Then she studied the scratches and small cuts caused by bushes and falling down the hill that covered much of his upper body. “And this?”

“One of the guys hit me. And I fell down a hill.” Bo was feeling a bit impatient. He liked Anna, really he did. She was his friend. But he wanted to see Luke, and there was something else he also still had to do. “We have to go to the race. Please.”

“Okay. But you’re telling us everything later.” It was an order.

Bo didn’t argue. “Okay.” He climbed in the passenger side of the car without bothering to open the door, Anna rolling her eyes at that, and leaned back in the soft seat as she turned the car around and headed back to Hazzard.

He closed his eyes, and finally safe and secure, fell asleep.

**

“Luke?”

He turned around, feeling weary, from his perusal of the cars at the starting line some distance away, to see Anna running up. She had a big grin on her face. He instantly felt better. “You found Bo.”

“Come on.” She took his hand and led him, slowly because of his limp, which though better than yesterday was still quite prominent, over to her car. She gestured to it. “I’ll leave you guys alone.”

Luke opened the door, tossed the crutch he’d been trying to use as little as possible aside, and knelt down, suddenly all choked up. “Bo,” he whispered, brushing his fingers over his little cousin’s dusty cheek. Tears trickled down his face, tears of relief and joy, and for once he didn’t try to fight them. “Little cousin…”

Dark blue eyes fluttered open sleepily, and then lit up quick and bright as lightning. “Lukas!” He jumped forward and fell into Luke’s lap, holding on tight and burying his head under his cousin’s chin. “Lukas…”

“Shh, little cuz. It’s okay.”

“I’m home. I’m safe. It’s okay, Luke.”

Ironic, Luke thought, that the younger was comforting the older. But it didn’t matter right now. They were together again. Bo was safe. He was here. “I love you, Bo,” he choked out. “I was so scared.”

“I love you too, Lukas.” Bo pulled back and smiled happily, the expression lighting his whole countenance up. “We gonna race, right?”

“Race?” The older Duke frowned for a moment. He looked over the various small injuries on his cousin’s body, and decided none of them were important enough to worry about. “You sure you’re up to it?” Bo looked tired.

The younger boy’s face was suddenly very serious. “I gotta, Luke. We can’t lose the farm.” He stood up, away, leaving his cousin to wonder at the sudden take-charge attitude that he’d never seen on him before. “Where’s the General? He okay?”

“Yeah.” Luke pushed to his feet as well. “Cooter fixed him up great. He’s over near the starting line. But you don’t have a license, Bo.”

Bo’s eyes met his, a flicker of uncertainty deep inside them. But the flicker was drowned out an instant later by confidence. “I’ve been driving for a while without one, racing even. That’s what got me in trouble, racing.” He made a face. “Tell you later. I’ll be okay. Where’s the General?”

Luke, not even feeling like complaining about having to limp around, led the young driver to his car. Cooter was waiting there, and came running up to envelop Bo in a bear hug. The younger Duke returned the embrace, laughing, and then snatched up his white racing coverall and dove headfirst through the car window, using his friends as a shield to dress inside the car.

Five minutes later, he pulled up to the starting line, the others gathering around the orange racer the moment it stopped. Luke shot Cooter a look, and the mechanic tossed him a helmet.

“Luke?” Bo asked startledly as he handed his crutch to Anna and slid through the General’s passenger window.

“I’m comin’,” the older Duke said bluntly, leaving no room for argument.

But Bo didn’t look like he was going to complain, only grinned and gripped his cousin’s hand. “Be ready for some fast moves, Luke.”

Cooter and Anna waved and laughed as they moved back from the line of roaring cars. Luke watched his younger cousin as he made a quick check of the gauges, then revved the engine, settled his helmet, gripped the wheel in both hands, and fixed his eyes on the starter.

It was only about thirty seconds before the man waved one arm to get the drivers’ attention. The roar of powerful engines drowned out the announcer. Luke grinned over at Bo, catching his eye as the younger boy did the same at the same moment. Then, the flag came down, and they were off!

The General Lee leapt out into the pack. One of the racer’s few flaws showed right here — he couldn’t take off from a full stop quite as quickly as some of the others. They weren’t in the rear by any means, but not the leader either. Luke glanced over the situation and pointed out the first opening he saw. It wasn’t quite wide enough for the General to make it, though… He yelped as Bo drove up halfway onto the hillside and performed a wheelstand, fitting the orange car neatly between the others ahead.

“Yahoo!” the younger Duke yelled in glee as they came back to all fours. Luke looked over with a slight bit of nervousness, but kept his peace, laughing along.

“Careful!” he shouted a couple minutes later, pointing to the side where another, red, racer was trying to shove them off the road. Bo twisted the wheel, and the General somehow missed the other car entirely, scraping by with only centimeters to spare yet not touching it at all. Luke blinked. It had happened so fast… and Bo hadn’t panicked at all. An amazed pride warmed him. He hadn’t been far from the truth, he realized, when he’d thought that driving was like an instinct to his younger cousin.

“That’s against the rules!” Bo complained.

“Well, you’re gonna get a quick study in human nature here, cuz. A lot of these guys ain’t gonna follow rules.”

The blond boy made a wordless complaining noise, darting around another car and out into second place. There was one car ahead. Luke recognized it as Boss Hogg’s pride and joy, pure white like most of the other things Hogg owned. He paid one of the best men in the county to drive it. But Bo was an even better driver, his older cousin was pretty sure.

They were pulling up on the white racer… starting to pass. Boss’ driver looked out his side window and whitened visibly. He had probably been ordered to win or else. The Hogg car pulled a bit ahead again, but then the General Lee put on a sudden burst of speed and shot past the white car into the lead position. The two young Dukes shouted and whooped in delight, taking a few moments out to grip each others’ hands in victory.

“It’ll be all smooth sailin’ from here,” Luke grinned.

“Yeah!”

Then, just as Luke had been starting to feel like everything was all right, suddenly a sense of deja vu came back to haunt him. Gunshots rang out, causing the boys to dive briefly. Bo corrected their course the instant he came back up, but he looked scared when he glanced over at his older cousin. Luke tried to come up with a plan, to little avail. “Drive,” he finally ordered, pointing forward.

That was one thing that Bo would readily do. He stepped on the gas and they raced around a curve, back toward the Boar’s Nest and the finish line. But whoever it was shooting at them wasn’t taking no for an answer. “It’s those guys,” Bo finally said.

His older cousin looked at him in surprise. The teenager’s face showed little expression. “What guys? Who’re you talkin’ about?”

A brief glance now. “Rogers and Daniels. The ones who kidnapped me. The ones who chased me. They… it was them all along, Luke, shootin’ at us and cutting General’s fuel line. Boss sent them…”

“Yeah, I know.” At the surprised glance, he explained, “Boss confessed, spilled all the beans, when he found out they planned on hurtin’ you. That’s how we knew where to look for you.” Another shot rang out, this one closer, and he flinched, twisting to look out the back window. “Where in blazes are they shooting from?!”

“I dunno.” Bo swerved around a pothole, fighting to keep the lead from the other car, who wasn’t slowing down at the gunfire any more than the General was, and had in fact moved up to their bumper.

Then a black sedan skidded down from the road higher on the hill that paralleled the one they were on, slightly behind the racing white and orange cars. “There they are,” Luke pointed. “Too bad we don’t have a gun to defend ourselves.”

“We don’t.” Bo suddenly grinned. “But we have General Lee!”

“Wait a sec. What do you have in mind now?”

Without answering, the younger Duke glanced at the black car in the mirror as their white opponent dropped back, probably deciding that when shooting started discretion became the better part of valor. The black sedan moved up alongside, and a black pistol came out the window. Luke ducked as another shot barely missed the General’s windshield.

“Bo Duke, either do something or get us out of here! Or both!”

Bo nodded. “See that ditch on the side of the road ahead?”

“How could I miss it?”

“I’m gonna push them into it.”

“What?”

Without answering, the blond teenager let the other car get up alongside them again. Then, just as the gunman took aim again, he stomped on the brakes. Luke was thrown forward, just barely bracing himself against the dashboard in time. The other car shot ahead, not expecting the move, and then the General sped up again, so that it was suddenly on the enemy’s tail. The gun fired again, making a hole in the windshield. Luke flinched, then winced, but now he knew what Bo had in mind.

“Steady…” he encouraged, knowing he didn’t have to but wanting to be part of this team. “About three seconds… two… one… Now!”

Bo hit the gas again, and the General Lee’s nose came forward gently to press into the sedan’s rear bumper. The moment they made constant contact, the orange racer started pushing. From straight behind at first, but then moving slightly sideways to hit the corner of the now out-of-control car’s rear fender. The black sedan skidded off the road on a direct course for the deep ditch Bo had pointed out. It did a beautiful nosedive, skidding down into the stream at the bottom and rolling over to lie on its back like a stranded turtle. The General stopped just long enough to make sure that the crooks were all right, stumbling out of their car, then raced ahead for the finish line just around the corner.

The Dukes arrived to a great shout. Bo pulled to a halt, and Luke waved Rosco over to tell him about the crooks in the ditch just behind them. The sheriff called Enos to go help him round them up, the two police cruisers pulling out with lights flashing and sirens blaring.

The two boys were just sliding out of their car when the crowd of cheering spectators arrived. Cooter and Anna were in the front, and Bo found himself picked up and swung around by Cooter, the blond boy laughing. Anna came up to Luke and without any preamble grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him enthusiastically. They parted to a scattering of cheers and wolf-whistles. Then Cooter came to hug Luke and Anna kissed Bo on the cheek. Cooter helped Luke up to sit on the General’s roof, in the center of the Rebel flag, and Bo scrambled nimbly up beside him.

The crowd cheered again when Boss Hogg, looking unhappy yet relieved, came through with the gold cup, which Bo held high, grinning from ear to ear, and the cash award, which Luke gladly accepted. He hesitated for a moment, then smiled, just barely, at Boss. The fat man in the white suit had caused them a whole lot of trouble, but still… In the end, nobody had been hurt, and on this day, Luke was willing to forgive. Especially as Boss wasn’t saying anything about Bo’s racing without a license.

Bo handed the cup to his older cousin and slid onto his stomach to lean down and feel around inside the car’s interior. His fingers found their target, and the laughing, proud Dixie horn sounded, eliciting another cheer from not only the crowd but the excited group of four friends.

Boss wasn’t cheering, but at least he didn’t look too unhappy, Luke noted. The two crooks coming up in the back of Rosco’s patrol car, well-cuffed, didn’t look happy at all. Good, he thought with a bit of the childish vengeance that he’d seen Bo exhibit so often. Serves ’em right.

Luke turned away from them, back to his friends, and put an arm around Bo’s shoulders, hugging him proudly. “You’re all Duke,” he whispered in his ear. “I am so proud of you. I love you so much, little cuz.”

Bo’s returned grin showed every bit of joy that could possibly be there.

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

“Bo?” Luke poked his head out the kitchen screen door. “You okay?”

The blond boy turned and looked at him, then smiled slightly and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Just wonderin’ why you haven’t come in for bed.” Luke came out, putting weight very gingerly on his sore ankle, to perch himself on the porch step beside his younger cousin. It was a warm night, perfect summer weather. Lightning bugs danced in the bushes along the side of the house, and moths fluttered around the porch light. Caesar’s whinny drifted up from the pasture, a hello to some other creature passing by. Luke looked at Bo. “Is it bothering you, what happened earlier? The kidnapping and everything?”

A slight nod. “Sorta. I guess.” The slim bare shoulders rose and fell in a half-shrug. “And the race.”

“What about the race? You saved us both.”

“I know…” Bo finally, suddenly, met his eyes. “It just felt so weird. Saving you instead of the other way around. That’s part of what’s wrong, I guess. I’m feelin’ kinda mixed up inside. Like part of me wants to be independent, and make my own decisions, and everything. But then part of me wants you to be the leader, the way it’s always been.” Dark eyes glinted softly in the yellowish light from the porch bulb with confused tears. “I don’t know what I feel.”

Luke reached out, and after a moment’s hesitation, Bo moved into his embrace. “Shh,” he soothed. “It’s okay. I guess it’s normal, what you’re feeling. You were forced into growing up a little too quick today, that’s all.”

“Something I might never have done?” Luke didn’t answer, shocked. Bo pulled back a little to meet his gaze. “It’s true, what they say, ain’t it? There’s somethin’ wrong with me.”

“No!” he protested. “No. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“I ain’t normal.” The younger boy looked away.

Luke sighed, and gently caught Bo’s chin in his hand, making the not unwilling boy look at him. “Beauregard Robert Duke, listen to me. No, you’re not normal. But you ain’t handicapped, little cuz. What you are is special. Very special.” He paused, finding spilling what was in his heart surprisingly hard. “I love you just the way you are. You mean so much to me.”

“Cause I’m your little cousin.”

“Yeah. But also for who you are.” Luke took Bo’s shoulders in his hands and looked at him gently, seriously, openly. “I don’t know what I would do without you. I feel awfully alone sometimes in this world, cousin. People are cruel, unfeeling. They hurt others without thinking twice. It means so much to me to know that you will always understand me, listen to me, love me with all you have like you do, like most teenage boys wouldn’t. It’s such a relief just to be able to come home and laugh and play with you. This place, and you, are my refuge. You’re my sanity in an insane world, Bo. I need you just as much as you need me, and that’s the gospel truth.”

Bo looked at him wordlessly, then raised his arm and drew his sleeve across his eyes, sniffling. “I love you, Lukas.” He leapt forward and hugged his older cousin hard. Luke closed his eyes and gladly returned the hug until the blond boy pulled back again. “But what am I gonna do, feelin’ all different this way?”

Luke gently ruffled his fingers through blond tangles. “You have to do a little growing up sometime, Bo. Just to be able to survive the world. And I’m actually pretty proud that you figured a plan out for yourself. Now we can be partners!”

“Partners?”

“Yeah. In whatever we end up doing. And talking about doing… I’ve got a present for you, Bo.” He reached in his jeans pocket and pulled out a pink piece of paper. “I was gonna give it to you yesterday, but…” He shrugged. “Go ahead. Look at it.”

Bo frowned and unfolded the paper, holding it up to the light. “Lukas K. and Beauregard Duke,” he read their names, then glanced over the rest of the paper. “Dodge Charger, ’69.” He looked at Luke. “What’s this?”

“It’s the owner’s slip for the General,” the older cousin explained. He waited for the meaning of that to sink in.

When it did, Bo’s eyes grew wide. “You mean… he’s ours?!”

“Yep. Traded the prize money to Cooter for him.”

Shock, worry, and joy mingled on the teenager’s face. “But the money for the farm..!”

Luke sighed. “I decided some things were more important than others, Bo. We can sell off all the livestock except for Janey and Caesar. We’ll start again next spring, work the land like Uncle Jesse taught us to. This winter, we’ll be okay enough. I was thinkin’ that if you wouldn’t mind, maybe we could even make some money by racin’. Travel around Georgia and enter the General in everything we can find.”

The answer came much more readily than he’d anticipated. “Sure. He’ll whip ’em all!”

The two boys laughed, then were quiet for a bit, contentedly looking out at the night in each other’s company.

Finally, Bo looked back at him. The dark blue eyes were wide, trusting. “You’ll always be there for me, won’t you, Luke?”

He smiled. “Always. Will you always be there for me?”

“Always,” Bo repeated softly. Then he flushed slightly, looking away.

“What is it, Bo?”

The younger cousin looked back at him. “You’d think it’s stupid.” But there was hope in his voice.

“Not necessarily. What are you thinkin’ about?” When that received no answer, he prompted, “I ain’t gonna laugh, Bo. I promise.”

“Would… would you become my blood brother?” The words stumbled out so fast that Luke had to replay them in his head before he could make sense out of them. Then he smiled, slightly amused but deeply touched.

“You sure? It’d hurt.”

“I ain’t afraid.” It was true; the eyes meeting his held no fear, only trust. “I’m your cousin, your best friend. Will you be my brother too?”

Luke looked out, thinking. Finally, he reached back on the back of his belt and pulled out his knife. “Yes, Bo. I will.” He stood. “C’mon. Might as well be safe about it.”

Still carrying the General Lee’s pink slip, Bo followed his older cousin into the house. Luke brought out a small flask of his Uncle Jesse’s shine, that he’d kept around for medicinal purposes, and poured some of the clear liquid on a paper towel.

“Hold out your hand.” He dabbed the alcohol on Bo’s palm and then on his own, then cleaned off the knife’s blade, sterilizing everything as well as he knew how. Then he met Bo’s eyes. They held excitement, a bit of nervousness, and a whole lot of love. “You sure?” he asked again.

“Yes.”

He must mean it if he said ‘yes’ instead of ‘yeah’. And Luke strangely felt that it was right, too. Gritting his teeth, he made a small slit in his palm, then quickly did the same to Bo before either of them could jump away at the sharp pain. The younger boy gasped briefly, biting his lip, then Luke reached out and clasped his hand, letting the blood mingle.

It felt… weird. Like there was more than a childish ritual going on here. Suddenly it didn’t feel childish at all. It felt very serious. Very real. He suddenly felt like there was yet another bond between him and his younger cousin, pulling them even closer than before.

“My cousin,” he whispered. “My friend. My brother.”

Bo smiled, slowly, eyes showing just as much sudden awe as Luke was feeling. “Brothers. Always.”

“Always,” Luke echoed softly. Always. They would always stay together, working and playing side-by-side. In a sudden flash, he saw what almost seemed a vision, a series of pictures. Bo as a young man, teasing and joking, head thrown back in unabashed howling laughter. The two of them in the General Lee. Races, both on a track or just a speed chase cross-country. Leaps, flying through the air with joined rebel yells. Sad times, holding each other. Happy times, when they’d laugh together. Picnics, just with each other or with girls. Helping Cooter in the garage, skinnydipping in the lake, bugging Rosco no end. Laughing, chasing, shouting, fighting, hunting, playing, riding, driving…

He knew in that moment that it was true. They would always be together, brothers bound by more than blood. Bound by love and selflessness for each other; friends, companions and playmates for life. Partners in any venture. They would learn together, change together, grow up together.

Luke met Bo’s eyes, and saw what he felt shining there. “I love you, Bo,” he whispered.

“I love you, Lukas.”

They finally unclasped their hands, and after washing the clotting blood off, Luke applied band-aids. When he was done, Bo turned to him from the sink and leapt for his older cousin, wrapping his arms around him in a contented hug.