by: Denise Wallan

End of the Road

Night drew closer as Chet galloped his horse into the dark, hunched forward in the saddle, his right hand guiding his horse through the dark and his left hand pressed over the wound on his right side. He could feel the blood seeping through his fingers, an his energy slowly draining from his body as his blood flowed freely. Chet’s legs hugged Blue’s sides tightly an he rode hard until he came to the Atlanta border where he finally drew back on the reins an allowed his heaving mustang to walk.

Blue picked his way through the dark woods an paused to drink at a creek about a mile beyond the border into Atlanta. Chet spit some dirt from his mouth onto the ground an untied his canteen from his saddle horn and opened it to take a drink, he shook the round canteen and found it hopelessly empty. He dropped the empty container to the ground and gazed around in the dark, his hands feeling heavy an limp.

Chet attempted to roll a cigarette but his blood stained fingers were too numb and the rolling paper fell to the ground. He stuffed his tobacco pouch back into his duster pocket an drew back the side of the duster to take a look at the whole in his side. A steady flow of blood oozed from the gunshot wound, but the bullet had not passed through his back, he could feel it pressing against his battered insides.

He looked around, there was nothing out here, it was literally the middle of nowhere and as good a place as any to settle camp. Chet dropped his reins and grasped his saddle horn with both hands and stepped out of the saddle, his wounds screaming in pain an his head spinning with dizziness. He cried out an moaned, his body shivering and trembling.

His left foot caught in the stirrup and through him off balance an he stumbled to the ground. He laid on his back staring at the starry sky for a few long moments an then rolled over onto his knees and with the aid of his horse pulled himself to his feet an stood on shaky legs. Quickly he uncinched his horse an pulled his saddle off Blue’s back an allowed it to fall to the ground, the saddle buckles clanged and jingled as the heavy leather equipment clashed with the hard earth.

Chet clutched the horses mane and approached its head to slide the hackamore off an turn the horse loose. The horse walked off into the dark slowly to graze an keep watch through the night, Chet swayed an stumbled an finally knelt. He gathered a handful of broken branches and twigs in his reach an a handful of dry grass, he molded it all into the pile an struck a match. The flames ate up the dry grass an spread to the wood, an soon Chet had a healthy fire burning.

Satisfied that the fire could hold its own he tried to get back to his feet, but he had grown far too weak an his knees buckled an would not answer his request. So he crawled to the creeks edge only five yards away an filled his recovered canteen and drank thirstily. When he had his fill of water he slipped his stiff shoulders out of his heavy leather duster and untied his bandanna from around his neck. He soaked the bandanna in the creek and pressed it over his side, his eyes squinted shut an he yelped in pain.

A wave of weakness passed over his body and he felt as though he were going to pass out, but he gritted his teeth an held on. He crawled back to his saddle by the fire, taking his duster with him, he laid the duster out on the ground and laid down on it resting his head on his saddle. His bandanna pressed over his side, an suddenly it occurred to him that this could finally be the end. This was the end of the road for him, he had put up a good fight through life an he had survived through the tough and rugged times, but there would be know sunrise for him.

Chet blinked his eyes feeling tired and inevitably weak, an he relaxed against the ground ready to surrender when suddenly his horse let out shrill call an somewhere in the dark maybe twenty or thirty yards away another horse replied. Barely able Chet pushed himself up a little an his right hand drew his Colt .45 an his hand raised the gun a weak six inches off the ground.

The dry leaves crunched on the hard ground as the answering horse drew near at a slow pace, its shoes making a heathy clop….clop….sound. Someone was coming, was it his brother? No couldn’t be, Blue would have galloped away after his brothers horse. Who ever was approaching was ridding in on a mare, Blue nickered an pawed the ground an called to the mare again, an she replied. Chet gathered his voice an cleared his throat.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll not come any closer.” Chet called out to the rider as it drew closer an then halted. His voice was strong an firm an he cocked his gun with his thumb to prove that he was serious. “State your name and your business!” Chet demanded his voice wavered this time.

“Easy lad.” A mid aged male voice called out from the darkness. “Me name is Time Rockland, jes’ lookin’ for me cattle. They be loose from me ranch a wee to the North of here.” The stranger spoke in a calm deep Irish voice sounding as big as the ocean itself.

Chet squinted his eyes shut tight an he groaned as a wave of pain washed over his body, he swallowed hard an gritted his teeth for a few moments.

“Go on, keep looking for your cattle.” Chet replied his voice pinched in pain this time.

The Irish stranger slowly came closer to the burning camp fire, an Chet raised his gun towards him his arm shaking and trembling.

“Me also follered a trail of blood to here. Ye wounded me lad?” His Irish voice dropped a few keys, an his features showed through the darkness, lit by the fires glare of light.

“Om’ fine, now git before I fill you….full of lead.” Chet demanded, his voice pinched an low now. He was getting weaker, his gun shook in his hand an the butt rested on the ground, he had grown too weak to raise it. An a sudden wave of terrible pain came over him an he gasped, pressing his left hand over his side and tilted his head back in sheer pain.

“Aye, ye bleedin’ to death ye are.” As the Irish man spoke he snatched the gun out of Chet’s hand an placed it inside of his long coat. An he knelt down beside the young Duke an pried his hand off of the gun shot wound in his side, the Irish man shook his head an sucked air in between his teeth.

The boy was wounded bad, the bullet had not passed through and he had lost a great deal of blood. Time glanced over Chet taking in his other wounds, the dark haired boy seemed to be full of holes an fading fast. Chet’s chest raised an fell with every strained breath he took, an his eyes watched the mid aged Irish man, half squinted shut in pain.

“Just leave me hear….” He blinked his eyes an swallowed, his mouth feeling dry. “I’m gonna die.”

Time shook his head an glanced around him, his farm was only a half mile away an a easy ride from there. He needed to get the boy to his ranch where he could take better care of him an have accesses to fresh water an bandaging.

“Lad ye will only dye if ye give up.” He said an got to his feet to look around in the dark for the young mans horse. “Where is ye hoss?”

Chet swallowed again an blinked his eyes an licked his lips. “Blue!” He called out as loud as he could an gave the best whistle he could. An in a few moments the sounds of a horses feet trotting over hard ground came to there ears an a few short moments later the painted blue roan mustang appeared out of the dark an approached its young owner. Blue laid his ears back at the stranger an lowered his head to rub his soft muzzle on Chet’s face an blow a hot breath on him.

The Irish man looked at the stallion an blinked his eyes, the horse was of good size and like nothing he had ever seen. He shook off the shock and knelt back down beside the wounded Duke boy an slid the saddle out from under his head an took the hackamore bridle from the horn.

“Shhhhh…..easy ye young hoss, me ain’t gonna harm ye. Wee got to get ye lad to the wee farm over thar, he be needin’ help.” Time spoke to the nervous horse as he approached Blue an held out his hand, his voice soft an calm. In a few short seconds he slide the bridle over the horses ears an patted his neck as he tightened the cinch of Chet’s saddle onto the mustangs back.

“Good hoss.” The Irish man patted the horses thick neck again an led him over to Chet where he still lay on the ground, his hand pressing his bandanna over his side, his breath heavily labored.

“Alright me lad.” He knelt down beside Chet an began to lift him under the arms. “Aye going to lift ye onto ye beeg hoss, ye just slump ye self in the saddle.” The big Irish man lifted Chet onto his feet an then hoisted him into Blue’s saddle. Blue stood quietly as if he understood the need for good behavior, an Chet swayed in the saddle an slumped forward onto the big mustangs neck.

Quickly Time stepped into his mares saddle an lead the wounded boys horse towards his farm as fast as they could safely travel without doing more harm then good. It took all but 20 minutes to arrive at the Irish mans farm, an a thin women stood on the porch awaiting her husbands return.

Tim dismounted from his horse and pulled Chet from his saddle and cradled the young man in his arms as he carried him up the porch of his home. His wife opened the door to there home quickly an rolled back the covers of a spare bed in one of the ranch houses huge bed rooms.

“This lad ees wounded bad, heem lost a lot of blood.” He spoke as he laid Chet down on the bed an turned the lamp up.

Chet drifted in an out of consciousness, completely unaware of where he was an how he had gotten there. Time an his wife Dorthy began to peal the young mans cloths off, careful not to further injure his wounds. Quickly they pressed pieces of a torn sheet over Chet’s wounds an tied a leather tourniquet above the wound in his thigh.

The night wore on as the husband an wife worked frantically to patch the young Duke boy up. An only after they were satisfied that they had done all they could they lay a cold towel over Chet’s forehead and left him to rest, dimming the lamp.

Chet Duke slept deeply for nearly a week, mumbling words in his sleep an often twisting his head from side to side. His fever broke on the second day, an on the fourth he sat up in bed an opened his eyes and looked at Dorthy then passed back out an laid back down.

On his sixth day of laying in the ranchers bed, Chet slowly opened his eyes an blinked them to get rid of the blurriness. His stomach growled with hunger and his body ached so badly he felt like *Hell’s Furry had stomped him into the ground. As his vision cleared he went into panic unsure of where he was an how he had gotten there, an he tried to sit up quickly only to be pressed back down by the strong hand of Dorthy.

“Oh no you don’t young man, you lay right down in that there bed!” Her voice was beautiful but had a bitter sternness to it, an kinda reminded Chet of his mother.

Chet gazed around and decided that he was in a rather large ranch home by the looks of the size of the bedroom an then he looked back at the women who had spoken.

“Where am I?” He asked her his voice horse an his mouth very dry. “An where’s Blue….where’s my horse?” Chet glanced around again.

“Now you just lay still there, your horse is safe an sound in our correl and your gear is over there on that chair. You lost a lot of blood young man.” Dorthy pointed to a chair in the corner of the room where Chet’s saddle, saddle bags, rifle, guns and cloths lay.

Chet looked under the blanket that covered him up to his chin, realizing that he was completely naked except for the bandages that covered his shoulder, side and leg. He tucked the heavy comforter under his arms an relaxed back in the bed feeling safe an secure…an for the time being out of danger.

A mid aged, tall an burly built cow man stepped into the door way, his stocky build and strong body evidence of his hard work in the past. He looked over the young Duke for a few moments then took a seat in a chair near the door an stared for a few moments, waiting for his wife to finish her fussing over the boy.

“Now you lie there while I get you some warm broth and water, your nothing but skin and bones.” She said an bustled out the bedroom door calling back to her husband. “Time! You make sure he says in that bed!”

“Aye, he be stayin’ where hes at.” The middle aged cowman called back to his wife, his gaze still on the boy.

Chet lifted his head an looked at Time sitting in the chair by the door at the foot of his bed. The older mans appearance was average, except for the calm an gentle features of the stocky man. Chet’s mismatched eyes stared at him for a moment, he could remember talking to him in the dark, but he could remember nothing after that. He titled his head back an looked at the ceiling.

“I am in your doubt.” Chet said his throat still dry.

“Me lad, we are all in doubt from the moment wee born.” Time replied resting his hands on his knees. “What tis’ your name me lad?”

“Chet, Chet Duke. I’m from Hazzard county.”

“Aye, ye be a long way away from home Chet.” Time paused as if analyzing the young mans position in life. “Someone had there mind set to keelin you.”

Chet looked back at the older man, his mismatched eyes staring for a moment, the truth might change this mans idea of him….an it might make him wish he hadn’t helped him.

“Yeah, an he almost did kill me.” Chet replied thinking about his brother, the Marshal.

“Ye runnin from de law ain’t ye?” Time grinned, he knew that look, the look that Chet had given him.

It was like dropping a bomb, how did he know? Chet looked at the man sitting in the chair, the surprise written clearly in the Duke boys _expression. He gave a small nod an looked back at the ceiling, his aching body reminding him of his encounter with his brother.

” My twin brother is a US Marshal, he’s been on my trail ever since my kin an I went our own way.” Chet sighed deeply. “I lead him into a thicket on the border of Hazzard County, he branched off an rode up onto a hill an ambushed me.”

“Ye say ye rode all the way from the border to heer with those wounds.” Time shook his head, this was one boy hell bent on…..something. What….the cattleman hadn’t yet decided.

“I rode to where ya found me…..go on get the law to arrest me.” Chet said, he was sure that Time would turn him into the law.

Time shook his head. “No, if de marker thinks ye deserve to live….then ye will. Aint me business to dee’cide other weez.”

At that moment his wife Dorthy bustled back into the room carrying a bowl of warm broth an a glass of water. She set both down on the dresser beside the bed an pulled a chair up to the side of the bed an took the bowl back up.

“Me women, thees ees Chet. He be from Hazzard.” Time said nodding his head towards the young man.

Dorthy smiled an spooned some broth into Chet’s mouth, he swallowed it down and his stomach grumbled. Little did he know that he hadn’t eaten much more then a few spoons of that very broth an a couple swallows of water in nearly a week.

“How long have I been here?” The question dawned on Chet when his stomach growled.

“Six days ago Time brought you here, you sat up a few days ago an looked at me an then passed back out. I have managed to get ya to swallow some water an a couple spoons of this broth.” Dorthy said and filled his mouth again.

“Six days!” Chet nearly choked. He laid his arm over his eyes, he couldn’t believe he had been unconscious that long.

“Ye ees lucky ye lived to see today. Ye lost lots of blood.” Time shook his head, it was true.

Chet nodded his arm still covering his eyes, he swallowed a couple more spoon fulls of the warm broth and drank the whole glass of water. He smile kindly at Time’s wife and thanked her as she took the bowl and glass back out to the kitchen of the large ranch house.

“When I am well enough I will repay you anyway that I can.” Chet said, he felt in doubt to these kind people.

Time nodded his head. “Aye, ye will. Ye can stay heere as long as ye like, but ye weell earn ye keep.” He paused watching the young man as his own thoughts sank into his mind. “An ye should move out to thee bunk house with they other lads. When ye is strong enough.”

Chet nodded his head thankfully, an began to doze back to sleep, he felt terribly weak and exhausted. It was truly a miracle that he had survived, but that was only half of the emotion he felt as his mind began to wonder into the darkness of sleep. His brother had fully intended to kill him, it wasn’t the first time that they had traded shots at each other, chased each other or even faced off. But there was something different about this time, Breyer had chased him down before an Chet had slipped through his fingers because his brother despite there dislike for each other still held brotherly feelings towards him.

Why had this changed? Why hadn’t Breyer looked the other way when Chet had been unable to slip past him, why had Breyer had a change of heart towards him? Chet sighed as a deep sleep took over him an he relaxed into the soft bed.

*Hell’s Fury was a famous bronco sometime in history. The exact time is undetermined.*