by: BlackJack Murphy

Rosco surveyed the town square from the top of the courthouse steps as dusk fell upon Hazzard. He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and shrugged his shoulders, trying to ward off the encroaching winter chill.

The sheriff shook his head, dejected. He’d seen the town through many Christmases, in good times and bad. Somehow, this year, the spirit just wasn’t there. Hazzard had been hit by hard economic times. The decorations around the square were sparse. Shops and homes that were normally decked out in lights were noticeably dark.

He was feeling the pinch too. His paycheck hadn’t been stretching as far as it usually did. That normally wouldn’t bother him all that much, as he wasn’t completely unfamiliar with going without from time to time. But during the holidays, when he wanted to provide a little something extra special for his loved ones, it hurt. He knew his kin would understand, but it hurt nonetheless. Rosco stood there for a moment multiplying that feeling by the population of Hazzard and he understood why it just didn’t feel like Christmas this year.

The sheriff turned and went back into the courthouse, blowing breath into his hands to warm them as he went.

“Hey, sheriff,” Enos greeted.

“Hi, Enos,” Rosco replied flatly.

“We just got a call from the church. Seems the baby Jesus has gone missing,” Enos said.

“What?”

“From the nativity scene,” he explained.

“Oh.” Rosco sighed, somewhat distracted.

“You want me to handle this one, sheriff?” Enos offered.

“Huh?” Rosco looked up at his deputy. “Oh… no. No, I’ll take care of it. You go on home, Enos.”

“Thanks, sheriff. Good evenin’,” Enos said quietly as he headed out the double doors and home.

“Evenin’,” Rosco replied half-heartedly.

Rosco grabbed a pen and small notepad off the booking room desk and tucked it into his jacket pocket. Then he headed back out into the cold night muttering. “What kinda person would steal a baby Jesus? That’s just…” his voice trailed off and the thought went unfinished as he trotted down the courthouse steps and headed across the square to the church.

When Rosco entered the church, Pastor Sheppard was patiently waiting for him in the back pew. The sheriff removed his hat and held it in front of him as he approached the pastor. The choir practiced a medley of Christmas carols in the background. The pastor greeted Rosco and guided him out front to show him the empty manger and answer questions.

“When’s the last time anyone saw it?” Rosco asked. The sheriff donned his Stetson again and grabbed the notepad and pen from his jacket pocket.

“About an hour ago,” Pastor Sheppard responded. “It was a few minutes before choir practice. There were no witnesses that we know of. Town’s been kind of empty lately, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Rosco sighed. “I know.” He jotted down a few notes. “Is there anybody you suspect might be behind this?”

“Honestly, sheriff, who would do something like this? I can’t think of anybody in Hazzard that would. Certainly none of my congregation… I would hope.”

Rosco took a moment to look over the “crime scene”. Even if he were a forensics expert, Rosco figured there’d be very little he could find in the way of clues. Someone could just come up, grab the Christ child, and be out of sight within a matter of seconds.

The sheriff shook his head. “I’m sorry, pastor. Unless we have a witness or it turns up on its own, I just don’t see how we’ll get him back. I’m afraid we won’t have a baby Jesus for the nativity this year.”

“I understand,” the pastor nodded. “Just do what you can, Rosco. That’s all I ask. Maybe whoever took ‘im will feel some sorta remorse and bring ‘im back.”

“I hope so,” Rosco said, though his voice seemed defeated.

The church doors swung open and the departing choir members streamed out past the sheriff and the pastor. Some glanced up at Rosco and greeted him somberly, some just walked away, head down, shoulders slumped. It was clear that the choir members had heard the bad news.

The Duke family straggled out with the last of the choir. The boys were visibly irritated and Daisy was upset. Jesse, in his usual stoic manner, put a hand on Rosco’s shoulder and said simply, “Find him, Rosco.”

Rosco nodded soberly as the Dukes offered goodbyes to him and the pastor.

This is exactly what this town needs right now, Rosco thought sarcastically. As if the town hadn’t suffered the proverbial punch to the gut already, this blow to its spiritual center might just be the knockout it never saw coming. Rosco suddenly felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

“Well, that’s all the questions I have for now, pastor. If you think of anything else or you get any new information, please give me a call.”

“I will,” Pastor Sheppard forced a smile.

Rosco tipped his hat in goodbye and headed back to the courthouse.

The disappearance of the baby Jesus bothered Rosco greatly and for many reasons. The thought that someone he probably knew could do such a thing made him uneasy. The fact that they could do it when the town was in such turmoil made him ill. The realization that the town’s hopes were resting on him made him depressed.

For the next few days, the case consumed the sheriff. He talked to each family that lived on or near the square. He talked to shopkeepers. He requested that the Hazzard Gazette publish a plea to Hazzard citizens for information regarding the disappearance. Nobody knew anything. As the case grew colder, Rosco’s hope grew dimmer. And the mood of the town mirrored the mood of its sheriff.

Boss Hogg noticed that the atmosphere around the sheriff’s department was decidedly gloomy. He was unsure what, if anything, he could do to lift the spirits of his brother-in-law, but he engaged Rosco in conversation anyway.

“Any leads yet?” Boss asked.

Rosco looked up from the paperwork he was filing. “No.”

“Have ya talked to the Dukes?”

Rosco looked at Boss in shock, “You don’t think the Dukes…”

Boss interrupted him, “No, no, no. Rosco, I may not particularly like the Dukes, but I know even THEY wouldn’t do something like that. I just meant… oh, hell. I don’t know what I meant.” Boss stood in thought for a moment. “It just seems that whenever there’s a crisis about, the Dukes always seem to have an answer.”

Rosco nodded. “Yeah, Boss, yer right. They do.” Rosco grabbed his jacket and Stetson.

“Where ya goin’?” Boss asked.

“I’m gonna go talk to the Dukes.”

Boss nodded as he popped his cigar back into his mouth.

The ride out to the Duke farm felt like an eternity and the cold, dark night only made it seem more so. Out of sheer impatience and helplessness, Rosco flipped on the patrol car’s lights and sirens and eased his foot down on the gas.

The Dukes, who were busy preparing for bed, could hear Rosco coming miles away.

“Sounds like Rosco,” Bo mumbled and then spat a mouthful of toothpaste into the bathroom sink.

“Wonder what’s up,” Luke replied as he splashed his face with water and wiped it dry with a towel.

Jesse went to the door as Rosco’s patrol car came to a skidding stop in the yard. “What’s the trouble, Rosco?” he asked as he held the screen door open for the law man and offered him a seat in the kitchen. Jesse lit the stove and held up the cold metal coffee pot in a silent offer of a warm cup of coffee.

“Thanks, Jesse,” Rosco accepted. “I came to talk to you about the missin’ baby Jesus.”

“And that’s important enough to require a siren and lights at this hour?” Bo inquired as he entered the kitchen.

Rosco stared at Bo, wordlessly giving him his answer.

Bo mumbled, “Sorry.”

Luke entered the kitchen, followed closely by Daisy. “We don’t know anything about it, Rosco, or we’d have told ya already.” The three cousins all took a seat at the kitchen table.

“I know,” Rosco admitted, fidgeting a little in his seat. “I figured that already. That’s not why I’m here.”

Bo, Luke, and Daisy looked at Rosco blankly, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Then why are you here, Rosco?” Jesse asked, placing a steaming cup of coffee before him. Rosco picked the cup up with both hands, warming them, and nodded in thanks before sipping.

The sheriff fidgeted some more after putting the coffee cup down. “Well, Boss said… I mean, whenever… It just seems that…” The Dukes sat quietly waiting for the sheriff to gather his thoughts and spit them out. Rosco looked into Jesse’s kindly eyes and it calmed him. He continued, speaking plainly, “Boss reminded me tonight about how whenever there’s a crisis or trouble in town, well… y’all usually have an answer for it… a plan of action.” The sheriff turned to look at Luke expectantly.

An awkward silence followed, before Luke spoke. “I’m sorry, Rosco,” he shrugged. “Without havin’ any leads or information of any kind, I can’t think of anything you haven’t already tried. I mean, that notice in the Gazette askin’ for information and promisin’ no charges if it was returned unharmed, that was a good idea. If the person who took it doesn’t respond to that, what can we do?”

“Nothin’,” Rosco sighed. “I’m sorry I disturbed ya.” The sheriff stood and pushed his chair in.

Jesse stepped forward and placed a arm around the sheriff’s shoulder as he walked him to the door. “Rosco, you know we Dukes will do anything we can to help ya, but it just seems that everything that can be done, has been done.”

Rosco nodded silently, feeling the weight on his shoulders dragging him down again.

“If I think of somethin’, I’ll call ya, Rosco,” Luke offered.

Rosco nodded again.

“We’ll be prayin’ for ya,” Daisy added.

“Thanks,” the sheriff mumbled as he started down the steps towards his patrol car. He stopped and turned back to look at the Duke family. It was an odd feeling, but it felt as if the Dukes’ hopes were resting on him too.

The next morning, Rosco awoke in a decidedly bad mood. That night was Christmas Eve and he still hadn’t found the baby Jesus. He sat at his desk, asking himself why this of all the thefts he’d had to deal with as sheriff, was depressing him so much. It was just an object. Or was it? It was a symbol really, he thought to himself. A symbol of hope, and that’s what this town needed right now… in any form it could find. He sighed heavily.

With each passing hour, Rosco tried to hold out hope that the thief would return the baby to the nativity scene. With each passing hour, that hope waned. As the midnight hour neared, Rosco sat alone in the darkened sheriff’s office.

Rosco wracked his brain. He thought of the visit with the Dukes. He remembered eagerly awaiting Luke’s flawless plan… that never came. He recalled leaving no better off than he had arrived, Daisy promising to pray for him. And that’s when Rosco realized there was only one thing he hadn’t tried.

He folded his hands, looking upwards. “Sir… uhhh, I know I don’t talk to ya as much as I should. An’ I ain’t exactly been,” Rosco sighed, “worthy of much attention from ya.” Rosco bowed his head and closed his eyes, “But if ya could see it in yer heart to return the baby Jesus to us, I’d appreciate it. I… I ain’t askin’ for me. The town sure could use… a little hope. Please?” Rosco unclasped his hands and opened his eyes, only to close his eyes quickly again and add a quick “amen” before opening them again.

Rosco took a deep breath and noticed the clock on the wall, five til midnight. He rose a little apprehensively and put on his uniform jacket and Stetson.

As Rosco exited the courthouse into the cool night air, he could hear the choir singing in the church down the street. He debated on whether or not to join the Christmas Eve service. He didn’t much feel like it, but the singing sounded heavenly, so he wandered in the direction of the church.

O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining. It is the night of our dear saviour’s birth.

Rosco spared a small smile. He’d always loved that hauntingly beautiful Christmas song. A soloist was putting her heart and soul into each and every note. As he walked towards the church, he noticed that the churched seemed to be the only building with lights on. It was like a beacon in the square, which seemed appropriate given the occasion. Rosco squinted at the bright light. There seemed to be something near the front door.

What is that? Rosco thought to himself. Could it be…? No, he wasn’t going to get his hopes up.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining, til He appeared and the soul felt its worth.

“Wait a minute!” Rosco said aloud, his hope growing as he neared the steps.

The thrill of hope! The weary world rejoices! For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Rosco ran up the steps and knelt next to the bundle.

Fall on your knees!

He looked around frantically, hoping to find who may have put it there.

O hear the angel voices!

The power and intensity of the song grew, other voices in the choir joining in. Rosco lifted his head and listened. It took his breath away.

O night divine, O night when Christ was born. O night divine, O night, O night divine.

A lump grew in his throat. He removed his Stetson and stared at the innocent face shining up from the bundle. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as he looked skyward and whispered, “Thank you.”
He looked through the double doors of the church and saw the citizens of Hazzard entranced by the moving song. As the song neared its end, Rosco put his Stetson back on, gathered the bundle up, and brought it into the church. Excited whispers followed him as the congregation realized what he held.

It wasn’t long before the commotion in the back caught the attention of the rest of the church. When Pastor Sheppard saw what Rosco was carrying, he jumped to his feet and hurried down the aisle. Rosco gladly handed the precious bundle over to the pastor.

“Thank you! Oh, thank you, sheriff! You don’t know what this means to us,” the pastor gushed.

Rosco smiled broadly. “Yes, pastor. I think I do.”

The Duke family, Enos, Cletus, Cooter, Boss, and Lulu all surrounded Rosco. Bo and Luke patted Rosco heartily on the back.

“You found him!” Luke exclaimed.

“Not exactly,” Rosco admitted.

“Huh?” Bo asked.

“He was on the steps of the church,” Rosco answered.

“The thief must’ve brought him back!” Daisy shouted excitedly.

Rosco laughed. “Maybe so, but I like to think it was… “ Rosco pointed skyward, “divine intervention. Khee!”

Jesse smiled, “I think you may be right, Rosco.”

As Pastor Sheppard carried the bundle out the front of the church towards the nativity scene, nearly the entire congregation followed.

Rosco stood back, watching the animated faces of the townfolk. It seemed as though a heavy cloud had been lifted and hope glimmered brightly in the eyes of citizens of Hazzard again. It’s amazing, Rosco shook his head and smiled to himself, that one little baby could make such a difference. And it occurred to Rosco that someone may have thought the same thing on a night like this about 2000 years ago.

“Merry Christmas, sheriff!” Enos shouted from the crowd.

“Merry Christmas,” Rosco replied as he joined the congregation admiring the newly restored nativity.

Merry Christmas, y’all!! The End.