I listen into the silence that hangs heavily over the old farm house as I stare distractedly out through the open window that lies a foot to th right of the old fire place. The warm fall sun brightly shines across the old barn and the dusty road that lies several feet outside the window as the late afternoon gradually shifts into early evening. “Where are they?” I slowly break the silence, asking the question that had been rolling in my mind for the past half hour. Slowly I turn around to face my niece who sits comfortably upon the old torn couch looking at the morning’s newspaper and she slowly glances up at me from the paper. “They left over an hour and a half ago, all they were to get is the few groceries on the list and to come home so we can fix dinner. Yet they aren’t here and aren’t responding to our calls.”

“Oh Jesse,” she smiles up at me as she slowly stands up and walks over to me to give me a gentle hug, “you know how they are. They probably stopped by Cooter’s after stopping at Rhuebottom’s to see if that part for The General came in yet. We all know how that usually goes…with them talking and losing track of time.”

I slowly nod at her as I glance back at my old pocket watch to force my impatience to grow within me towards the boys’ return from the errand I had sent them on. “You’re probably right,” I reluctantly respond as my thoughts slowly fall from their absence to Bo’s attack last night to reignite worry within me. Struggling to hide my worry, I slowly say, “Perhaps we should go look and see what we have in the kitchen since they obviously will be home late tonight or at least later than expected.”

Silence builds between us for a moment as she looks at me, concern and worry seem to flash in her brown-blue eyes as she silently nods. “You’re worried about Bo,” she finally states as she takes a step back, “perhaps you should make an appointment with Applebee to have him look Bo over.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I slowly respond as my thoughts continue to fall upon last night’s attack, an attack only confirming that his asthma is once again worsening. “I should have -“ I fall silent as the sound of a car pulls my attention back towards the window to find a new big black truck pulling into our dirt driveway, “Someone’s here.”

Daisy looks questioning at me for a moment before she peers out the window besides me as the truck is pulled out of view from the side window. “I wonder who it could be,” she muses out loud as the powerful engine dies down and a door is opened, “whoever it is, is from out of town.”

I nod before taking a step away from the window as I glance towards the kitchen’s entrance in anticipation for a knock as a door is closed.  Silence once again builds within the living room as my thoughts continue to shift within me from concern of Bo’s asthma and onto questions of who has just pulled into the drive and why and back to Bo. After a long awkward moment of waiting, a loud pounding noise interrupts the silence from the kitchen to send Daisy and I looking at each other. “I can get it,” Daisy flashes a worried smile before she walks away and into the kitchen. I watch her disappearing into the kitchen before I slowly follow her into the kitchen as she slowly opens the door and says, “Hi.”

“Daisy!” a soft woman’s voice comes from outside on the porch to be responded by a gurgling sound of a baby. A questioning look spreads across my nieces face as she stares silently out through the open door for a moment before the woman continues, “I don’t blame you for not remembering me. It has been what?” A moment of silence once again before she continues, “At least twenty-seven years since I had last been in Hazzard and we had been about four years old back then. I’m Kristy,” another pause, “Kristian Duke.”

“Kristian!” Daisy yells in excitement as my mind quickly falls back to the niece I haven’t seen since my brother had ran away with Rosa several years ago to abandon his young daughter he had with his first wife, Jayne. “Kristian, come on in. It’s great to see you again!”

With that, a woman around Daisy’s height with thick strawberry blond hair walks in carrying an older baby and a young girl holding her right hand. “Jesse,” she offers me a smile to send a sparkle in her gentle green eyes. “I’m sorry to just drop in like this, but I couldn’t wait to see you all after so many years.”

“Sorry? Daisy’s right, it’s great to see you again,” I give her a smile as Daisy excited gives her and the baby a hug, “it’s been way too long.”

She nods at me before the girl tugs at her hand and she looks down as the girl says, “Where’s the animals?”

“Not now, honey,” she smiles at the girl before looking at me and back to Daisy and then around the kitchen, “it has been too long.” She finally agrees before stepping farther into the kitchen as Daisy motions her in.

“So who all have you got here?” Daisy smiles down at the girl the clenches tightly onto Kristian’s hand.

“This is my three year old daughter, Jamie Lynn,” she smiles down at the girl at her side who has light brown hair tied tightly up in pig tails, a thin layer of soft brown freckles spreads across her soft nose with questioning green-blue eyes.

“Three and a half,” Jamie shyly smiles up at Daisy.

Kristian nods before looking at the baby boy that she holds in her right arm, his head leaning against her shoulder, his eyes closed and a soft snoring nose comes from him. “This is Shayne Michael. Shay for short,” she responds and the boy’s thin bright blond curly hair reminds me of Bo when he was that age, “he is almost eight months old now.”

“Or Shay-Shay,” Jamie chimes in looking up at her brother.

Silence fills the hot kitchen as I silently take in my niece and her young family as my mind falls upon the last time I had seen her and how well she had gotten along with Daisy. How she use to visit every other weekend when she was with my brother, all other times she had been with her mom and her new husband. How Daisy had always asked when Kristian would come to play. “Kristian Duke?” I finally ask before saying, “Sorry. It’s not my business.”

“It’s ok,” she smiles understandably as she lets go of Jamie’s hand to shove her thick hair back behind her where it is pulled back into a silver barrette, “It’s Kristy now. . .and I’m divorced. It’s a long story, but I went back to my maiden name as well as switching their names to Duke as well. Jamie at least. I was divorced by the time Shay was born.”

“Daddy hit mommy,” Jamie says to bring everyone’s attention onto her and she shyly leans into Kristy’s leg.

Silence thickly explodes between us as all that Jamie had said seems to linger within the silence. “You don’t have to tell everyone, sweety. It’s a long story,” Kristy awkwardly says, “I spent the past year in Knoxville with dad before deciding to come down here. Thought it would be a good place for them to grow and play. Not as much as violence and as crowded as the city.” She pauses, “I guess if that’s alright with you all.”

“It’s more than alright,” Daisy gives her another hug, “it’s great. . .it’s great seeing you!”

“You are more than welcome here, Kristy,” I smile at her as I give her a hug, “and it’s great to see your kids. They’re so cute.”

She smiles. “I tend to think so too.”

“Uncle Garrett,” Jamie speaks up as she moves away from Kristy to stand bravely in front of her, her curious green eyes look up at Daisy and then at me, “got arrested on the way here.”

“Arrested?” I hear Daisy ask as my mind quickly flashes from Kristy’s last visit to Bo’s premature birth and his twin, the twin that Rosa had taken home while they had abandoned Bo due to his problems. Problems they had inflicted upon him.

“Huh huh,” Jamie nods, her pig tails bounce with curls at the ends, “he went and paid for gas and when he came out the policeman had him in handcuffs and was leading him to jail.”

“Jail?” Daisy asks looking from Jamie and then up to Kristy, “Who’s Uncle Garrett?”

“Mom’s younger brother,” Jamie smiles up at Daisy, “he seems to get in a lot of trouble sometimes, but he’s really fun.” She goes quiet for a brief moment as she bows her head towards the floor. “I miss him. Will he be out soon? How will he find us, mommy?” She looks up at Kristy with a lone tear streaking down her face.

“I know you do, sweety, but he will be fine. He’ll get out once we get it all straightened out and mommy will pick him up so he won’t have to find us,” Kristy goes silent as she looks from Jamie and then at me and Daisy, “Sorry, she likes to talk. . .to anyone who will listen.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Daisy smiles at Kristy, “we’re always glad to listen. Your brother?” Daisy asks looking from me and then back at Kristy with confusion.

“My younger half brother. Bo’s twin,” she slowly responds and Daisy looks at me and I nod in agreement, “he got arrested here in town when we stopped for -“

Kristy is abruptly interrupted as the phone in the living room begins to ring loudly and I smile apologetically at Kristy before slowly walking into the living room. “Jesse Duke,” I say as I answer on the third ring.

“Jesse,” I hear my older nephew’s voice on the other end, a thin hint of worry laced within the letters of my name.

“Luke,” I slowly respond as Daisy’s and Kristy’s conversation floats into the living room from the kitchen, “we was wondering where you two were at. Is everything OK?”

“No. . .nothing’s ok,” he quickly responds to send chills racing up my spine, chills at the abruptness of his statement that is thick with emotions. Emotions that he seldom allows to be seen or heard from him. “I’m at Tri-County.”

“Bo?” I hear myself say aloud as my mind falls back onto last night’s attack to send thick dread and fear to run through me.

“Bo should be fine,” he says, his voice quivers with uncertainty, “but I think it would be best if you would come down and I can explain it all in person to you. I don’t want to say it over the phone.”

“OK, yeah,” I hear myself saying, “I’ll be there as fast as I can.” With that I hang up the phone and walk quickly into the kitchen and Daisy abruptly stops what she was saying as they all look at me. “I have to go,” I finally say and concern flashes across Daisy’s face as she steps up to me, “That was Luke, he’s at Tri-County.”

“Bo?” Daisy questions and I slowly nod and shrug at the same time.

“I don’t know. Luke said he should be fine, but wanted to tell me everything in person. I’ll call if there is anything to report,” I respond and she quietly nod and I look over at Kristy, “It’s great to see you again. Sorry to run out on you, but I’m sure Daisy will be glad to show you around and help you out.”

She nods before Jamie says, “Mom says you have animals. Where are they?”

“Um. Ask Daisy there, she’ll show you,” I quickly point towards Daisy. Looking up at Daisy and Kristy I say, “I have to go. Bye.”

I quickly walk out into the hot evening before running to my truck and start it up before closing the door with a silent prayer running through my mind. A prayer for Bo and that everything is OK as the worry and fear in Luke’s voice sends my imagination running within me. It has to be something big and dramatic to send Luke’s emotional barrier down as it had seemed to be on the phone. There wasn’t a lot of negative emotion in his voice, but yet enough to rise my suspicion.

*                                  *                                  *

“No. . .nothing’s ok.   .    . I’m at Tri-County,” my older nephew’s words continue to echo within me as I reluctantly shove my old truck into park a few feet away from the old and tall hospital building. Chills once again creep up my aging and tense body as intensifying questions continues to race rapidly within me to force harsh emotions to grab a tight hold over me. Emotions of fear, worry, and guilt. Guilt as my thoughts slowly fall from Luke’s phone call and onto Bo’s harsh asthma attack he had last night. The worst he has had in years. His asthma has gradually gotten worse the past couple of weeks and yet I have failed to call Dr. Applebee to come and look him over. His last appointment had been a month ago to check up on his asthma and Applebee himself admitted it was getting worse, to keep an eye on it, and to call him if it was to get worse. Yet I hadn’t and now I’ve gotten a phone call from Luke saying he was at Tri-County.

“Bo should be fine,” Luke had responded distractedly before he had insisted I should come down to talk more of what had happened to him. He should be fine, not that he is fine. Sighing heavily, I slowly step out of my hot truck and into the warm fall evening to slowly begin my hike towards the familiar building. The familiar building I had rushed Bo to several times due to harsh asthma attacks that had left him breathless and in a lot of pain to force vivid flashbacks to unwind within me. Flashbacks of rushing Bo to the ER, of the hours waiting on word for him, and the emotions that had gripped everyone as Bo had stayed several nights in the hospital. “Damn,” I silently hear myself say aloud as I reach the front door and as I step into the brightly lit hall way, refreshing cool air begins to tickle down the back of my neck.

After following the familiar maze to the emergency room’s waiting room, I slowly come to a halt in the entrance of the emergency waiting room as my eyes fall upon my tall and muscular nephew standing at the far left window. He stands only an inch from the sill, looking out with his muscular arms crossed tightly over his chest, his whole body stands tense with emotions. Emotions that he normally hides within himself and refuses to allow to show. Saying another silent prayer, I slowly walk across the room before I come to a stop a foot behind him as he remains staring blankly out through the window. “Luke,” I slowly break the silence as I place a soft hand upon his tense shoulder.

He jumps slightly at my touch before slowly turning around to face me to send fear and shock racing through me. Shock to find worry and fear piercing his dark blue brooding eyes and fear for what his emotions must mean, something bad. “Jesse,” he breathes out as his shoulders seem to sag a little before he quickly looks away from me. “The doctor,” he says after a moment of silence, almost as if he’s talking to himself, “hasn’t came out yet. To say how he is.”

For a long moment, I silently watch my older nephew staring out through the window looking across the old parking lot and at the field that lies across the street.  “OK,” I slowly nod at him as I struggle to sort through my thoughts, questions, and emotions. “What happened, Luke? His asthma?”

“For Bo,” he slowly responds before he takes a slow and long step backwards to look worriedly at me. His right hand slowly makes it’s way through his thick and dark brown hair as he eyes me for a long moment before letting his eyes wander around the room before falling back on me. “We went to Rhuebottom’s as you asked,” he sighs as he slowly begins to explain what had happened. Starting with watching the ambulance rush by Rhuebottom’s without much thought to yelling at the receptionist in order to get Bo medical attention for the attack he was having.  “I think they took Bo to a room down the hall somewhere while Cooter is still in the ER. All that blood,” he trails off as his attention falls back out through the window, “I didn’t see Cooter, Bo did. He was,” he pauses heavily before he faces me once again, “he was really shook up and in shock I think.” He shakes his head as if trying to fight off a thought or perhaps another one of his painful flashbacks he seems to have from war, of which he fights to hide.

I nod slowly as I silently allow all that he had said to sink in to force a heavy raging river of emotions to rush over me. Intense anger and hatred towards whoever had done this to worry and fear for Cooter who hangs desperately on the edge of life and death. And worry and fear for Bo and all that he had seen and what this will do to him emotionally. With Bo’s emotional disorder that he was diagnosed with as a young child, Bo has never dealt well with anyone he cares for being hurt or sick. He has always seemed to close himself in as he often does when he is faced with a fearful of stressful situation. “He has never dealt well with anyone he knew being sick or hurt,” I slowly speak aloud and Luke silently nods in understanding.

Silence once again begins to build between us as the ticking of the clock seems to echo off of the walls of the hospital while my mind continues to be stuck on Bo and his emotions. Thinking of Bo’s emotional disorder and the hard time he has with dealing with stressful and often times new situations, my mind falls back onto Kristy and her kids. Of Bo’s half sister that he never knew he had. Not a lone a twin. Or that his parents are still alive. When he was young and had asked about them, I had made up a story of how they had died like Luke’s and Daisy’s had so many years ago, in order for him not getting hurt or feeling different from Luke and Daisy. As years went on, I had meant to tell him and yet never did when the opportunity never seemed to come appropriate and had worried how he would react to the truth. Now I am going to have to tell him the truth.

“Wait a minute,” I break the silence as I turn to Luke and he slowly turns to face me, “you say that Rosco had a man arrested for the beating of Cooter? That his sister was arguing with Rosco?”

“Yeah,” he slowly nods, “she kept saying they stopped there for gas, her brother went into pay and came out a minute later to say he found Cooter on the ground. Said he has no reason to do that to a stranger and didn’t have time to do so if he wanted to do so. Rosco led him outside, Bo began to accuse him of it, and the guy spit at Bo. Rosco dragged him away before either him or I could do anything about it. Why?”

“Because,” I slowly begin to say as my mind falls upon Kristy and her kids at the farm. Of Jamie’s young and innocent voice saying that Uncle Garrett got arrested and how she missed him, “the sister is at the house right now.”

“What?!” he abruptly snaps to force the few people’s attention onto us, intense anger flashes in his dark eyes, “You’ve got to get her-“

”Don’t talk to me that way, Lukas! I know you are upset,” I take a deep breath to control my own emotions, “I can’t just kick her out. She’s family.”

“Family?!” he says just as angrily, “How could any family member of ours do something as horrible as that? To Cooter? Cooter wouldn’t hurt a damn fly and yet. . .” he lets his thoughts trail as he falls into silence.

“I can’t agree with you more about Cooter,” I slowly and cautiously answer, “you remember Kristian Duke? Your cousin? She use to come to the farm every other weekend or so.”

He goes silent for a long moment. “Jeremiah’s daughter from his first marriage. Her and Daisy had always ran off and played together and left me by myself. . .which was fine by me,” he quickly adds, “I vaguely remember her. Mostly by old pictures you had and by your anger towards Jeremiah.”

I nod. “Well that’s the sister,” I pause to let that sink in, “her brother, Garrett is the one that got arrested for Cooter. She didn’t say Cooter, but her story adds up with your’s.”

He goes silent as his attention goes back to the window as the sky slowly darkens in it’s wake to welcome the night. “Bo’s twin brother,” he silently responds as he turns to look unblinkingly at me. I silently nod, surprised that he remembered. “Does Bo know about them? About his parents?”

“No,” I silently respond and anger flares in his eyes towards me, “the opportunity never arose and each time I thought of talking to him about it, I always thought of how he would react to it.”

“Well, think how he’s going to react now that his half sister is at the house and his twin is in jail for trying to kill Cooter!” Luke yells angrily at me to force me to jump back in surprise. “He’s already in shock at seeing Cooter beaten almost to death, perhaps to death, and at seeing Cooter covered in his own blood!” Luke pauses as he sighs heavily and steps farther away to press his back to the window. He calmly continues, “Now he’s going to have to face all that on top of it all.”

“I know, Luke,” I softly respond to his yelling as my imagination begins to draw vivid pictures of how shaken up Bo already is and how he will react to all that I am going to have to tell him. To tell him before taking him home to find Kristy and her kids there, awaiting him. “I know.”

He stares at me for a long moment before he sharply turns around to give me his back while he stares out into the darkening night, losing himself into his thoughts.  Sighing heavily, I slowly back up a few feet before walking over to the nearest seat a foot or so away to silently sit down in it while attempting to sort out my thoughts.

“Jesse,” I quickly look up from staring down at my well worn and torn boots to find the aging Doctor Applebee standing in the hall way leading to the rooms and the ER, and besides the nurses desk. A hint of hope begins to grow within me as I stand up just as he slowly approaches us and I glance over as Luke quickly joins us. “Why didn’t you call and make an appointment for Bo when his asthma started to get worse?!” Applebee snaps, his green eyes stare accusingly at me, “I told you at his last appointment to call once you see it get worse that way we can try to get it under control before it gets worse! That was a month ago and it is a lot worse now than I could even imagine it being!”

“I. . .I was going to,” I stutter as I step back as he continues to stare angrily at me, “I just kept putting it off,” I sigh heavily as guilt once again grows rapidly within me, “I couldn’t admit it was getting worse. He was doing so much better and now -“

”And now it’s a lot worse than what it should be all because he didn’t get any help when he needed it!” he yells as he stares down at his clipboard. He sighs heavily as he allows a long moment of silence to creep between the three of us. “Thanks to the great help of Dr. Weaver and the help of our breathing machine, we have finally got his attack under control and put to a stop. For now at least,” he pauses a moment more to reread his clipboard, “Dr. Weaver gave him a breathing treatment of a high prescription. Of which I am going to prescribe to him once he leaves this hospital, not as high of a dosage, but a breathing treatment for every three hours. Plus higher his asthma prescriptions he already is taking.”

“OK,” I silently respond as my thoughts race wildly within me, from all that Applebee had just said and onto all that Luke had said only minutes ago. “Thank-you doctor.”

He nods silently as he eyes Luke for a moment and then his green eyes return back to me with a hint of accusation hiding within. “As of now, his attack has come to a stop, but his lungs and breathing are still weak, but stable.  He is free to go as of now,” he pauses for a long moment as his attention nervously goes onto his clipboard before eyeing Luke and then I again, “but Doctor Weaver and I both feel it would be best if he were to stay here for at least a day for observation. That way we can keep an eye on him and monitory his breathing as well as his breathing treatments and perhaps get his lungs and breathing to strengthen with a help with a small air tube that we currently have in his nose. Though as I said, he is free to go. It is your choice.”

“Well if you think it’s best,” I slowly begin, “then he should stay here for observation.”

He nods while marking something down on his clipboard. “Then we’ll go from there,” he slowly responds, “If you want, I can lead you to his room.”

“Much appreciated,” I nod before Luke and I slowly begin to follow him down the hall. We slowly begin to follow the older doctor down the brightly lit narrow hall way as we all fade into silence, lost in our own thought and emotions. “Here we are,” Applebee slowly comes to a halt in front of a closed door as he eyes us both, “I have an appointment to attend to downstairs and Doctor Weaver has gone home for the night. I will stop back up before I return home while Doctor Weaver should be back before seven tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, Doctor Larden will be his doctor in the meantime. Just tell a nurse or the secretary if you have a concern or a question and they will get him for you.”

“OK. Thank-you,” I slowly nod as I stare at the light brown colored door as dread once again begins to rise within me. Dread at the thought of Bo’s asthma worsening and dread at the thought of how he will react when I tell him that the person Rosco had arrested was his twin brother, his sister is now at the farm. Sighing heavily, I quietly remind myself that it is my fault for not telling him the truth when I should have only to send guilt running rapidly within me.  He never has dealt well with new situations and now he has that to face on top of finding Cooter covered in blood and the fact that he is now stuck in the hospital. The place he fears the most.

Applebee silently says good-bye before slowly turning around to walk back down the brightly lit hall way spelled highly of cleaning cleansers, disinfectants, and of sick sweat. I glance back as Luke slowly opens the door and a thin ray of darkness leaks out of Bo’s room and into the lighted hallway. Luke glares back at me for a long moment before he slips into the darkness of Bo’s room to leave me alone in the hallway where I struggle to calm my raging emotions and my wondering thoughts. “Damn,”I silently say aloud before I slowly take the step into the dark room to close the door behind me.

Walking into the room, it takes a moment for my vision to adjust to the darkness of the room before my attention falls upon Bo who lies asleep upon the old hospital bed. His thin chest forcefully heaves out before collapsing into stillness for a long moment before it slowly and forcefully expands. A loud and irregular wheezing sound escapes with each breath he fights to take reminding me of his past once again. My heart comes to an abrupt halt at the sight of his chest, the sound of his wheezing, and at the sight of his ghostly pale skin. A small clear tube lies tightly held within each nostril to help him breath while a couple of IV’s slowly drip medicine and pain killers into each arm, another reminder of his past.

“Come on Bo,” Luke silently says as he takes post upon the right side of the hospital bed, he runs a gentle muscular hand through Bo’s bright blond hair, “it’ll be OK.”

I watch Bo sleeping momentarily with Luke worriedly at his side before I slowly make my way to the small window to force a wave of surprise to wash over me at the sight of the dark night outside. Below small cars, looking like matchbox cars from the window, with their lights guiding them, slowly drive by upon the dirt road while open fields line the opposite side of the road. Dark hill-like mountains lie shadowy in the distance while the large moon and bright stars light up the dark black sky sending dancing shadows upon the ground. How can the world seem so peaceful at a time like this? A time where Cooter has been violently beaten by men and my nephew’s lungs violently flare within him. Yet, by looking outside, everything seems so calm and peaceful, like nothing has happened.

“I think,” Luke breaks the silence and I slowly turn around to find him regretfully looking down at Bo and then up at me, “I’m going to go check on word on Cooter.”

I silently nod. “OK.” He watches me for a silent moment before looking back down at Bo before he slowly walks to the door and steps out while closing the door behind him. For a long moment I watch Bo from where I stand, watch him struggling for air despite the machines helping him to send my mind back in the past. Of when his asthma had been at it’s peak and had sent him several times to the emergency room in desperate help for air before my thoughts bounce ahead to the near future. Of his reactions will be to hearing he has to stay at the hospital and onto how he will react about the true story of his birth, of his brother in jail and half sister at the farm. Feeling my emotions build up within me, I slowly turn around to once again look back outside and the scenes that surrounds the old hospital while attempting to calm my emotions down. Seeing me all emotional will only make things worse for him, if that is at all possible.

“I wanna,” a weak and wheezy voice breaks the silence behind me and when I turn around I see Bo looking at me through the darkness, “wanna go home.” He wheezily finishes before he violently coughs for a long minute before residing into loud harsh wheezing in his struggle for air.

“How you feel, Bo?” I dumbly ask as I slowly make my way to the old hospital bed, his baby blue eyes look pleadingly up at me. Chills rush through me as I get closer to see his emotional blue eyes full of harsh pain and of intense fear.

“I’m -“ he cuts himself off to quickly look away from me and a long moment of silence comes between us. Looking back up at me, he truthfully responds, “It hurts.”

Intense sadness quickly builds within me despite already knowing how he must feel, but hearing it only seems to confirm it and making it worse than what I had already imagined how he must feel. The past few years that his asthma had gotten better, the times when his asthma did act up, he had always pretended to be fine. Too proud and stubborn to cave into his pain and to admit to it. But now he freely admits the pain that screams from his eyes at me, just as Luke said he had before rushing him to the hospital. “I know,” I slowly say as I run a hand through his thick bangs as Luke had done earlier, “but now you’ve got help.”

He eyes me silently for a moment while fighting to breathe. “I wanna go home,” he slowly repeats, pleading me to take him home.

I nod silently at him as I feel his fear building within him. Fear of how he feels, of what his future holds ahead of him, fear of what he had seen at the garage, and fear of being trapped here. “I know you do,” I sigh heavily, “but Doctor Applebee and Weaver both think it would be best if you were to stay here a day for observation.”

“No,” he begins to violently shake his head at me before he starts coughing once again to force him to lie silently still. “I wanna go home,” he finally responds.

“I know, but if they think it is best for you to stay, then I think you should stay. Better you stay and get the help you need now than to have to run you to the emergency room in a few hours,” I slowly respond while taking a seat besides his bed, “I’m sorry Bo. I should have gotten you help last week or so when you had that attack. I should have gotten you help when it all had started to get worse.”

He looks blankly at me for a long moment before his attention goes up to the ceiling while he leans back to turn on the light.  Through the light, the fear in his eyes seem to intensify as a tear forms in the corner of his right eye before it falls down his pale cheek. “How’s,” he goes silent as he looks back at me, “how’s Cooter?”

“I don’t know. He was still in the emergency room when we came to see you. Luke left a couple minutes before you woke up to check on word,” I slowly respond as a couple more tears fall down his cheeks and the fear seems to grow in his expression as he seems lost in a thought. Or in a memory, a painful memory. “Luke says you saw Cooter as they were loading him into the ambulance,” I pause to feel his forehead to find his skin to be an icy cold, “you want to talk about it?”

He looks sharply up at me for a moment before he slowly shakes his head at me and his attention falls upon the ceiling that hangs above him, clearly attempting to fight against the emotions that lies entrapped within him. And failing. “Well, Luke and I are both glad to listen whenever you do,” I finally respond before being reminded of his sister and brother once again. “Look Bo,” I slowly start before falling quiet to think of what to say, “there is something I should tell you, something I should have told you a long time ago, but didn’t. I thought I was protecting you, but maybe I was protecting myself as well by not admitting to the truth.”

As I fall silent, he slowly glances away from the ceiling and onto me and at the sight of the thin line of tears, I quickly question my timing of telling him. I have to tell him before tomorrow or before someone else says something, but is now the time? “Which is?” he slowly questions as he realizes I am not continuing with my story.

“The story I told you about your parents. . .them dying in the accident to go see a concert,” I pause heavily as I fight my own emotions, “was a lie. They didn’t die in no accident and are still alive. Last I heard they were in Knoxville.”

“I know,” he whispers.

“You know?” I question as chills rapidly run up and down my back in my surprise at the two small words he had just whispered.

Bo silently nods as his attention once again falls away from me as he apparently is fighting to hide the rough emotions that lies within. “You expect something like that to remain silent and in secret in a small town such as Hazzard?” he sharply asks to glare back at me to send guilt racing wildly within me. Guilt in the fact that I didn’t tell him sooner and in realization that he’s right. News has always seemed to travel quickly in Hazzard and yet I didn’t stop to think that someone would tell Bo the truth of his parents, of how he was abandoned. A lot of people had grown to resent Jeremiah and Rosa and their drug use in Hazzard as they had rebelled against everything Hazzard had to stand for and yet I had expected them not to say a word about it to Bo, for Bo not to find out. A secret such as that would be impossible to keep secret in Hazzard, yet I was naive enough to think Bo wouldn’t find out.

“How? When?” I stutter in surprise after a moment of silence. Guilt is joined by surprise, surprise that Bo never once said anything about the past I had attempted to protect him from. He had always turned to me and told me when something was wrong, never able to hide his emotions. Yet I was made unaware of him finding out of his parents and of the truth. Something of that origin and emotional would surely upset him, yet he hadn’t said anything. “Why didn’t you say something about it?”

He silently shrugs at me before his emotional eyes shift from me and back towards the ceiling and my attention goes back onto his slow and forceful heaving chest. “I figured you’d tell me whenever you felt you were ready to,”Bo slowly breaks the silence. Looking at me, he asks, “Why now?”

“Because,” I fall into silence again as Luke’s angry voice full of accusations roar loudly within me at not telling him long ago. “Because the man arrested for the beating of Cooter, the man who spit at you, is Garrett Duke. Your twin brother,” I pause to take him in as anger and resentment quickly spread across his pale face, “your half sister is at the farm with her two kids right now. Saying he didn’t do what he’s accused of doing.”

“Then I guess,” he says silently. In spite of the anger and resentment that has grown within his eyes, he now seems quiet and calm to force worry to deepen within me.  “It’s best,” he pauses momentarily to cough harshly, “that I stay here. Then huh?”

I watch him momentarily as I sort through my emotions and of what I should respond to that, that he’d rather be in the place he fears the most than to go home and face what lies there. “Until the doctors say it’s ok, I guess,” I finally shrug, “but you’re going to have to face it sooner or later, Bo. Maybe Kristy’s right and if she is, that -“

”I don’t want to talk about it,” he abruptly cuts me off as his eyes seems to harden and he turns away from me, his chest momentarily goes still before forcefully heaving out and then collapsing. His wheezing seems to grow louder and I grow worried about another attacking coming upon him due to his emotions. “I want to,” he slowly says, “be left alone.”

***KRISTY DUKE***

Raw emotions slowly eat within me as I tiredly stare out across the living room and at the old fireplace and at the small shelf that lies above that is lined with framed pictures. Pictures of three kids, one with thick blond hair, one with dark brown curly hair, and the single girl with long thick light brown hair, a few with a younger Uncle Jesse in it as well. The framed photos captures the kids at different stages in their life from different occasions and emotions. Framed photos of a different way of life that had been stolen away from me the day that my dad had ran away with Rosa to start their new life away from the homes they always had known. A life of drugs, bad friends, and trouble. With their disappearance, came the end of returning to Hazzard to play on the farm of which I had always held happy and precious memories of. Memories that had for so long been captured and held within the few photos I had kept of the times mom and dad were still together and of my many trips down to Hazzard from Atlanta. A deep sense of excitement yells wildly within me at the thought that I am once again sitting within the Duke farm and with my cousin Daisy. More excitement at the thought of giving my own children the chance to grow and love Hazzard as I remember loving it.

My excitement is quickly dimmed as my mind turns upon our drive here, of stopping at the small gas station and of Garrett stepping out after going into pay to say the mechanic was dead. Fear tightly grips me from within for the vague future that lies ahead for Garrett, for the poor beaten mechanic, and for Hazzard. If Garrett didn’t do that to the mechanic, which he didn’t, only means someone else did. Someone who is still free and on the streets and perhaps still in Hazzard. That thought sends icy chills creeping up my tense body to send my imagination running wild within me.

“What’s wrong, mommy?” Jamie asks from the floor where she lies coloring in her princess coloring book while Shay lies asleep upon a blanket I had thrown on the floor for him to play with his toys. Jamie’s green eyes looks up at me clouded thickly with concern and worry for me only to send guilt running rapidly through me. A three and a half year old shouldn’t have to worry about her mom or be plagued by harsh nightmares of her violent daddy hitting mom.

“We’re just thinking sweetie,” I force a smile at me as I glance up at Daisy who sits in a chair next to the window near the fire place. She turns away from the window to look at Jamie and then onto me.

“About Uncle Garrett?” Jamie questions as she stands up to walk towards me, “Why that policeman take him away for?”

I sigh heavily as I feel Daisy looking at me as my mind falls upon their friend, the friend that Garrett is accused of beating and perhaps of killing. “We went through this already. He thinks Uncle Garrett did something horribly wrong and when people do something wrong. . .especially for something as horrible as they think Uncle Garrett did, they go to jail,” I pause for a long moment as I tighten one of her pig tails, “they go to jail. . .kinda like getting a time out, to think of what they did.”

“But Uncle Garrett didn’t do anything wrong,” she whines tiredly at me, “did he?”

I force a small smile at her questioning her first statement that she had so dramatically and confidently. “Not this time, but the policeman was only doing his job. He thinks he did that horrible thing to Daisy’s friend,” I pause for a moment to take in my worried cousin, “so it is our job to show him that Garrett didn’t do what they think he did. We’ll get him out of trouble, it’ll just take some time.”

“OK,” she says finally satisfied with my answer before she looks at Daisy. Reluctantly, Jamie steps away from me to approach Daisy who forces a smile and helps Jamie onto her lap. “I’m sorry about your friend,” Jamie says simply, “but Uncle Garrett didn’t do what they think he did.”

Daisy once again forces a smile while she is torn by the emotions held within her. Emotions towards her friend and towards Jesse’s quick departure over the phone call he had received when I had first arrived at the farm. “Thank-you Jamie. Cooter’s tough,” she says unsurely, “he’ll be fine.”

Jamie stares at Daisy for a long moment. “Uncle Garrett’s tough too,” she says in her attempt to defend Garrett.

“I’m sure he is,” Daisy finally says while hugging her.

“Jamie, why don’t you finish that picture you were coloring for Uncle Garrett. You finish it and I’ll take it to him in the morning when I stop by to check on him,” I suggest and she eyes me for a long moment before nodding and jumping off of Daisy lap to return to her coloring book. Looking up at Daisy, I say, “I’m sorry about that. She just gets over concerned about the smallest things and she idolizes Garrett. It’s tore her apart when she saw him being led away in handcuffs and now. . .I’m sorry about your friend.”

She nods silently as her attention goes back out through the dark window for a long moment before falling upon Jamie and Shay. “I’m sure it was dramatic for her. And for you,” Daisy looks up at me, “I’m sorry for your troubles if he didn’t do it. . .if he didn’t do it, it means someone else did.” She closes her eyes at the thought and a visible tear falls down her cheek. Opening her eyes again, she says, “Can I get any of you anything?”

“No thanks,” I shake my head at her, “He didn’t do it, he didn’t have time,” I begin to defend my brother once again before falling quiet, “Look, Garrett is no saint. He has never been accused of being one nor will he ever be called a saint. He’s gotten in all sorts of trouble for the past thirteen years or so since he started hanging out with the group of friends he hangs out with. Or so I’ve been told. He was even kicked out of the Army due to his drugs and fighting. He’s gotten into a lot of trouble over the years and in fact he was getting into trouble before we left Knoxville,” I slowly go into the story of what I had known about his escape from getting arrested for his role in the breaking and entering at the auto store. After finishing and allowing a moment of silence, I say, “But he didn’t do that to that mechanic, your friend. He would never just go up and beat someone for the fun of it. . .that’s not him. He didn’t know the guy and wasn’t in there long enough to have an argument with not a lone to beat him as he is suspected of doing.”

Daisy nods as she quietly allows it all to sink in before her attention goes back through the window. “Well then,” she turns to look at me, “that meas it’s someone else. Someone else who has a free ticket due to your brother’s arrest. . .for now at least. I’m sure with time, the correct killer will be found. Trust me,” she forces an sarcastic smile, “my cousin’s won’t stop until they are satisfied with the correct man in jail. Either will I. I’m not saying if I think your brother’s innocent or not. I don’t know, but you’ll have to prove it to Bo and Luke.”

I nod in understanding. “I called my step dad. He’s a well known defense lawyer in Atlanta,” I pause heavily in thought, “he says he’ll be down in the morning to represent him. I hope that won’t cause any trouble with anyone.”

“I wouldn’t see why it would. He has a right to an attorney and Cooter deserves to have the truth be known,” Daisy says before going quiet for a long moment. Shay cries out in his sleep for a short moment to gather our attention before he silently falls back to sleep. “It’s getting late. You and the kids can have my room. I have a queen sized bed and has a lot of room for your stuff.”

“I can’t do that to you Daisy. After all you are going through and all,” I begin to say as I watch Jamie begin to yawn herself, “we can stay at the hotel in town that we saw on our way in.”

“Oh no you won’t,” Daisy stands up with a smile, “no cousin or friend is going to that run down piece of garage to stay at when there is room here at the farm. My room is big enough for the three of you. You don’t want that room , you can have the boys’ room…they can have the couch. Your choice, but I’m now allowing you out of the farm without a decent night’s rest and a good breakfast.”

“Well,” I smile, “if you insist. But it doesn’t matter where we are. We can have the living room ourselves. Shay’s got a play pen in the truck he can sleep in and -“

”That’s nonsense. You can have my room, I’ll take the couch,” Daisy says firmly, “that way it’ll give us more time to get to know each other better. It’s been way too long!”

***LUKE DUKE***

Fear and anger continue to dance violently within me as my mind continues to rewind and replay today’s events, from the fight I had with Bo to rushing Bo to the hospital and onto Jesse explaining how Bo’s half sister is at the farm, his twin being the man arrested for the beating of Cooter. In spite of Jesse’s good intentions of attempting to protect Bo from the truth of his parents, anger and resentment continue to burn within me towards Jesse for not telling Bo the truth as of yet. Once again, I am reminded of how he had acted when Jesse had gotten hurt, how quiet and withdrawn he had been as his weak and strained voice once again echoes within me, of telling me Cooter’s dead and of all the blood. The shock and horror that masked his face when I had climbed out of the car continues to stare back at me to force fear deep within me at the thought of how he will react to all that he had seen. On top of that he has to cope with his asthma worsening and the medications that are now being prescribed to him and with the truth of his parents as well as facing his half sister and twin brother. The twin brother who had spit on him and is accused of doing the beating upon Cooter that has sent Cooter to the emergency room covered in his own thick blood.

Icy chills once again crawl up my back as my memory falls upon the thick blood puddle I had found after Rosco had led Garrett away with his sister pleading Garrett’s innocence. Slowly, I glance down upon Cooter’s old and favorite hat that I had grabbed on my way out to check on Bo. Dark blackish red blood stains are splattered around the well worn hat that Cooter had insisted was his lucky hat. Not so lucky today.

“You here for Cooter Davenport?” a husky male voice breaks the silence from behind me and I slowly turn away from the dark window to find a man a couple inches shorter than wearing a white over coat and holding onto a clipboard. His dark black hair lies astray and out of place while stress and worry are hidden within his dark brown eyes that hides behind a small pair of thin glasses, his stethoscope hangs loosely around his thin neck. “I’m his doctor, Dr. Roberto Sanchez.”

I slowly nod. “Luke Duke,” I offer a forced and worried smile, “a close friend of Cooter. How is he doctor?”

“A close friend?” he asks skeptically, “He have any family around?”

“No sir. We’re the closest thing he has for a family. As far as I know,” I slowly respond as dread fills me, dread at hearing what he has to say about Cooter. The five hours they had kept him in the emergency room gives a slight hope that they were able to keep him alive and yet also lets known it took a lot of work at keeping him alive, if he is alive. “How is he, doctor?”

“Well,” he pauses to look down at his clipboard for a long moment, “we had lost him several times from the ambulance ride and up to now. If it wasn’t for the girl who did the CPR on him, he’d be dead. . .he’d be dead long before we arrived to get him,” he grimly reports before going quiet to look back up at me from the clipboard, “We finally have a pulse. . .very weak and faint, but that is the best we can do for now. He was un-conscience when we picked him up but he had fallen into what seems to be a coma and remains unresponsive towards all that we have done so far. He has internal bleeding that couldn’t be stopped. We stopped some of it, but couldn’t get it all to stop. He has four broken ribs, two that has punctured his lungs which has cut down his breathing. He has a really bad concussion to a hard blow to his head,” he pauses once more as he seems to stare over my shoulder and out into the dark night. Looking back at me he reluctantly continues, “His right leg and left hand have both been broken by some harsh force. He had a couple of deep cuts that required stitching, one or two of the cuts looking to be from something sharp, like a knife.”

My heart comes to an abrupt halt as he finishes his report upon doctor, comes to a halt with intense sadness, fear, and anger. Sadness of all that I had just heard that my friend had been through, fear of losing such a good friend to such horrible violence, and anger towards whoever had done this to him. “Will he,” I cut myself off due to the thick emotions that run within me, “will he be ok?”

He shrugs. “It all depends on if and when he wakes up. We’ll know more once he wakes up and all,” he slowly responds, “as of right now, we are giving him a forty percent chance of waking up with all his injuries. Even if he wakes up, it doesn’t mean he will live. Often times people wake from comas only to die a day or two later.” He looks down at his clipboard and back up at me with remorse in his dark eyes, “I am sorry about your friend. We are doing all that we can to help him.”

I nod in understanding. “Can I see him?” I finally respond as my mind continues to be wrapped around his thin chances of survival.

He nods before he swiftly turns away and I reluctantly begin to follow him down the brightly lit hallway. “Just for warning,” he slowly begins, “he looks really bad. Beaten and bruised,” he pauses to look at me, “The machines and monitors makes it looks worse, if possible. He is not breathing on his own so he has an air tube down his throat, is hooked up to a breathing and heart monitor, along with IV’s for painkillers and food.”

I silently nod as a vivid picture of Cooter hooked up to machines enters my mind to send sharp chills of fear across my tense body. “OK,” I slowly respond as he stops at a closed door and he slowly turns to face me.

“Any questions or concerns,” he slowly states, “I should be around here, if not grab a nurse and they’ll flag me down.”

I nod in understanding as he eyes me momentarily before he once again swiftly turns to walk back towards the waiting room where he had found me at. Taking a deep, long breath, I slowly open the door to be welcomed by loud and annoying machines that beeps irregularly. After taking another look down the hall, I step into the dark room and reluctantly close the door behind me to slowly take in the neon green lines slowly arching up and down before a straight line flashes before climbing up again. Saying a silent prayer for my friend, I slowly walk up to the old hospital bed to be filled with intense shock and horror at how bad Cooter looks despite Doctor Sanchez’s warning. An air tube lies down his throat while a small tube is shoved up each nostril, several IV’s slowly drip into each arm while his leg and arm lies in a pure white plastered cast.  His face is dark with bruises and harsh cuts while a thick white bandage is wrapped around his forehead and hair, dark blood stains seep through the bandages at places.

“No, no,” I hear myself whispering as I tightly grip onto the side of his hospital bed while my imagination once again begins to draw vivid pictures of what may have happened. Visioning Bo’s twin beating him violently with hatred and evil in his stone gray eyes that he had blankly stared at me with at the garage. “Cooter,” I softly say as I gently touch his shoulder, “it’s me, Luke. You gotta be OK. You gotta wake up and prove them ol’ doctors wrong. You’ve got to,”I pause as I fight back the tears that threaten to build within me, “you can’t leave me. Not like this.”

The irritating and irregular beeping of his machines is the response I receive as I tiredly sit down in the metal fold up chair that lies open besides his bed. For a long silent moment I watch him, lost in his coma, while I allow my raw thoughts and emotions build thickly within me. For Cooter and for Bo. “I brought you this. I figured you’d need a little luck with all that you must have went through,” I stiffly respond as I set his old and torn hat upon his bed stand, “Look Cooter. . .whoever did this to you, won’t get away with this. I’ll damn well make sure of that, I promise you that,” I slowly continue, “but you’ve got to fight this, you’ve got to wake up and be OK. Please be OK.”

Hearing how desperate and pitiful I sound, I stiffly stand back up to slowly walk towards the small window that lies a few feet away from his bed. Listening to his monitor with little hope of it growing stronger, I glare out into the dark night where the old and cracked parking lot lies below while farm pastures lies off to the right while being surrounded by fields of one sort or another. Regular Hazzard scene worth taking comfort in. Yet I find no comfort in it as the beeping of the machines reminds me of Cooter, of the situation he lies in on the sharp edge of life and death, slowly losing grip of life.

***SHERIFF ROSCO COLTRANE*** 

Stepping into the crowded bar slash restaurant, my eyes instantly begin to water as I walk into the thick cloud of cigarette smoke that lingers heavily across the room while the old jukebox loudly plays an old Waylon Jennings song. People’s laughter, talking, and yelling echoes off of the thin wooden walls in competition with the loud music while they sit at tables, booths, and at the bar that lines most of the right side wall. Another Friday night in Hazzard County. Where people come to relax, have fun, and to drink their worries away. A cold chill tickles the back of my neck as I take in the familiar sight that takes place every week, for some every night, and yet everything about today is so wrong that it had made it feel like everything changed. Yet things remain the same. The same people hanging out at The Boar’s Nest, the same jukebox playing the same select songs, the same drinks and food being ordered and enjoyed, the same loud conversations competing with one another. Glancing around the room, I am repelled at the sight of smiling faces and taunting laughter that is spread around the room while a few faces are set in grim expressions and a few arguments seem to be spread around. Smiling and laughing. After the horrendous acts of violence that had been displayed in the shadowy, blood stained garage, the laughter and smiling of the people captivated within the bar sends resentment chasing the rest of my sharp emotions. Sharp emotions that I’ve been struggling to compress since leaving the garage in hope of finding something, doing something to find answers of what had happened to Cooter.

“Hey Rosco,” a familiar voice rings out and I glance back to find Roy Harnest sitting at the table with his wife and brother, their table is covered with food and drinks. Large smiles spread across their faces as he motions me towards him, “can I get you something to eat? Drink?”

I slowly nod at him as images of the garage flash in my mind, of Cooter lying drowned in his own blood, of the woman performing a useless act of CPR on his still body while attempting to defend her guilty brother. Sharp icy chills spread across my body at the thought of her brother, of the young Duke and his cold emotionless gray eyes as he had seemingly stared right at me. The attitude, anger, and hatred had screamed through his muscular body as I had arrested him and placed him in jail while he had refused to speak to me once I had gotten him into the jail. To neither defend himself or to explain why he did what he had to Cooter. Once again, my thoughts return to the newer car that Cooter had found entrapped along the edge of the cliff that he had towed back to the garage. It had to do something with the car, yet the Duke had refused to ever seeing the car before not alone to owning it.

“You OK, Sheriff?” Randy asks, Roy’s youngest brother, “You are lookin’ like you need a drink about now.”

I shrug as my attention once again wonders across the room, scanning the familiar faces as I silently imagine everyone’s reaction when they find out about Cooter, about the violence that had penetrated their peaceful town. To the mechanic that everyone had gotten along with. He may have been crazy and did a lot of crazy things in his time, but he was friendly and nice to everyone he met. Always willing to lend a helping hand to anyone in need. He has even been known to help work on broken down vehicles to people who had little to no money to pay him in return for his work. Had always offered a smile. Now he lies in the hospital with his future on the sharp edge of life and death due to the violent hatred of one man who had walked into his garage and stole the one thing he loved most. His life.

“No, I’m not OK,” I finally respond as I feel their eyes on me as well as people from surrounding tables beginning to look up at me where I stand in place, lost in my own thoughts of despair, “I’ll see you all around. Thanks for the offer.”

They nod as Roy toasts his beer glass up at me before I slowly turn away from them to slowly make my way towards the bar, my mind still wrapped tightly around Cooter and the day’s events.  “Well Rosco,” Jerry greets me with a smile , his light brown-green eyes are genuine welcoming as he blindly wipes at the bar with a rag, “what can I do for you?”

“Bottle of beer,” I dry respond and he gives me a look of shock before he reluctantly takes a couple of steps back to the refrigerator and grabs the first bottle within reach before slowly opening it to hand it to me. Grabbing the cold brown bottle, I nod a thanks at him before saying, “put on Hogg’s tab.”

Once again he gives me a look of reluctance before he silently nods while a thin layer of worry covers his brown eyes as he grows suspicious. “Anything else I can do for you, Sheriff?” he asks leaning against the bar and I slowly shake my head at him, “Well, I’m here if there is anything else you want.”

I nod at him for a moment and as he turns to walk away I ask, “Daisy come to work tonight, Jerry?”

Turning around he slowly shakes his head at me. “No, she called in,” he says slowly, loathing to tell me in fear of getting Daisy in trouble, “said a cousin she hasn’t seen in years has shown up and wanted to show her around and settled in. I guess Jesse went to the hospital to check on Bo. Something about his asthma acting up.”

“OK. Thanks,” I slowly reply as my mind flashes images of Bo as I had yanked the Duke boy out of the garage in handcuffs, on how pale and vulnerable he seemed as he fought forcefully and painfully for air after watching Cooter being loaded in the ambulance.

“Yep,” Jerry nods before his attention is drawn down the bar where Willy Randa yells drunkenly while holding his empty glass up in the air in his signal for more beer. “Talk to you later, Rosco. Just holler if you want something.” He forces a smile before he walks down the bar to Willy and I silently watch him talking to him amicable for a while before filling up his empty glass.

Taking a long drink from the cold beer, my thoughts fall back upon Hogg’s statement as he had stepped up to find Cooter’s body lying, asking me what kind of sheriff I am to let something happen like that across the street from the sheriff’s station. Guilt once again rapidly builds within me as I ask myself the same question while wondering how the Duke I had arrested could be ignorant and stupid enough to do such a brutal thing across the street from the sheriff’s station. And why? Shaking my head while placing the bottle back onto the bar I try to comfort myself by reminding myself that at least he’s in jail no matter what the reason is, that the violent man is off my streets. Despite reassuring myself of his arrest, a sharp instinct forcefully insists that Hazzard is far from safe as it had been only a day ago, that the beating of Cooter is only the start of things. Struck by intense fear, I take a longer drink of my beer in a final attempt of comfort to receive little to no relief, but more feared questions and rough emotions.

“Sheriff,” a familiar squeaky voice interrupts my silence, my silence that I had built within the noise walls that surrounds me. Reluctantly, I turn around to find my deputy standing behind me in uniform and a big smile spread across his face, “I’m surprised at seeing you here. . .here drinking like this.”

I stare at him for a long moment while fighting my raw emotions that urges me to punch the large grin that spreads across his naive face while he stares at me with wide brown eyes full of the surprise he just talked about. “Well,” I slowly say instead, gripping tightly onto the condensed cold bottle, “sometimes you have to do something out of the ordinary to help you cope with the day’s events. Something to help cope with the events life throws at you.”

“Don’t talk like that, sheriff. It scares me,” his smile dims as I look at him blankly for a long moment before remembering he had been in Atlanta for the past two days for training.

“Well Enos, life’s scary so get use to it,” I respond as he slowly sits down upon the empty bar stool next to me, “You just get in?”

He nods. “I thought I’d stop by and see Daisy for a minute,” he responds as his eyes wonders the bar, “but I don’t see her.”

“She’s not here. . .she took the day off to show her cousin around,” I pause for a long moment to take another long drink, “look Enos, there is something that I should tell you, something that had happened today. . .” I slowly go in and explain all that had happened today, of the argument between Hogg and Cooter, to Cooter finding the stuck car and looking for the driver, and onto the Duke coming and showing us his sister performing CPR on Cooter. And onto the arrest of the arrogant and emotionless Dukes. “I called the hospital before coming here. Cooter’s still in the ER and Bo’s fine. Just had an attack.”

His happy-go-lucky smile quickly fades as I tell him of all he had missed today and a dark cloud of sadness seems to form around him while he nervously looks from me and around the bar. “You mean,” he pauses heavily to look back at me, “Cooter’s going to die? Don’t you sheriff?” His voice rises with intense fear and sadness.

“I don’t know, Enos. The hospital said they’ve lost him and found his heart beat again only to lose it again. They’ve been struggling back and forth,” I shrug as silence once again builds between us as the loud noise behind continues on. Everyone laughing and talking, have a good time, in spite of the circumstances that has engulfed Hazzard. Circumstances that everyone remains unaware of today’s events, events that will touch everyone’s life in one way or another. Fear once again climbs within me as I quietly imagine everyone’s reactions will be, of the future that lies only a day or so ahead of us. All of which took place across the street from the sheriff’s station. Hogg’s spiteful statement once again yells at me to send anger tightly within me along with guilt. Anger at Garrett’s boldness to do such a violent thing across the street and guilt for not being aware enough to stop it. Being too wrapped up in the argument I was having with Hogg to be aware of the events that was taking place just a few feet from me. “What kind of sheriff am I? A lousy, failure, and untrustworthy sheriff.” The thought runs rapidly through my mind to send my guilt accelerating within me as I attempt to drown it out with a large and heavy drink of beer to finish it up.

***LUKE DUKE***

 Abruptly, I am thrown awake surrounded by thick and pure darkness and covered lightly with sticky sweat of fear. Sitting up in the old metal chair, I glare through the darkness as I allow surprise to fall over me, surprise to have found that I had fallen asleep with little memory of moving from the window to the chair and then apparently falling into an unwanted sleep. For a long moment I stare at the window in an attempt to recall moving away from the window to sit down and when to come up empty. Sighing heavily, I glance up at the wall where the round clock hangs upon the opposite wall of Cooter and through the dim light of the moon shining in, am surprised to find that it is already one in the morning. I had at least slept for a couple of hours for it had been eleven when I had last looked at the clock in thought of checking up on Bo and Jesse, but had decided against it due to the time. Thinking Jesse had probably gone home and visiting hours for Bo would have been long gone by then.

Struggling to wake up, I slowly glance down at Cooter who remains lost in his coma and looks just as bad as he had when I had last looked at him. “Sorry,” a soft voice brings my attention up to find a petite nurse standing on the opposite side of the bed from me with her medical car, in the motion of changing his IV bags. “I didn’t mean to awake you.”

“I didn’t even knew I fell asleep,” I shrug at her through the darkness as I try to make out her features as she is only a shadow through the darkness, “but I guess I had.”

Her shadow nods as she finishes with the bags and checks the needles that lies deeply implanted into his dark bruised skin.  “I am just changing his bags and giving him fresh medicine and liquids,” she says as she begins to wheel the squeaky cart to the end of the bed, “I’m sorry for your friend. I hope him the best.”

I watch him for a long moment before I reluctantly turn and slowly step out into the brightly lit hall way before closing the door. Walking down the brightly lit hallway, struggling with my emotions that is fueled my thoughts of the day’s events once again, my anxiety for Bo seems to grow worse. Either by intuition or by my imagination.

Arriving at Bo’s closed door, I casually glance up and down the hallway for doctors and nurses in fear of being stopped from seeing Bo due visiting hours being closed. After watching a thin doctor disappear into a room down the hall, I slowly open the door to be welcomed by unfamiliar voices full of worry and frustration yelling at Bo. Only to be quickly responded by harsh wheezing before it turns into harsh coughing. Bo. Fear and worry shoves me forcefully into the lit room where I find a young nurse and an older doctor hovering over Bo’s bed while Bo struggles fearfully in the middle.

After a short moment the nurse eyes me and motions at me for the doctor to see who looks up with angered green eyes. “What you doing here? It’s after hours!” he yells as Bo looks up at me with wild feared blue eyes, “Get out!”

“Not until you tell me what you’re doing to my cousin,” I firmly respond as I step to the foot of the bed, though by the look of it, it is easy explainable. Bo’s having an attack and the doctor and nurse is here in attempt to help only for Bo to fight and struggle against them. Fighting against help in his unknown fear towards doctors and all hospital staff.

“Doctor Larden has told you to go,” the nurse stiffly responds as I notice the nebulizer that rests on Bo’s night stand, “you should go before I go get security to usher you out.”

“I’m not going until I am made aware of what is going on,” I pause while fighting the urge to shove them both out of the way and give Bo the medicine myself. “And to be assured he’s ok.”

“No assurance there if he won’t take the help we offer,” the doctor responds in frustration, “he woke up yelling and then coughing before he stopped breathing. We’re here to attempt to help him, but he is fighting us and won’t let us give him his breathing treatment. Now you must -“

”I’m not going,” I firmly say as I walk past the doctor and fit tightly in between the doctor and the night stand. Dr. Larden eyes me angrily before stepping slightly away from me and I return his angered look. “He won’t let you help him because he don’t know you. He fears doctors and hospital and hates the breathing machine. . .after all he’s been through, I don’t blame him. You yelling at him and becoming angry is only making it a whole lot worse!” I snap back at him before turning back to Bo who’s coughing has once again resided in his painful and fearful fight for air, wheezing loudly in desperation. “Come on Bo, you need the help,” I finally say as I lay a hand upon his forehead to find it cold with icy sweat. He eyes me silently with fear and pain filled baby blue eyes before his eyes falls back upon his night doctor. “Will you let me give you the treatment?” I finally ask.

“That’s not allowed,” the doctor snaps as he grabs my shoulder in attempt to pull me away and I abruptly shove him back, “You are to leave, now! It is past visiting hours and as long as he’s here, it is our responsibility to give him his medicine.” The nurse leaves the room and dread fills me knowing she is going to get help on removing me, “You are making things worse here.”

“No, you are making things worse! I can guarantee you that he’ll fight you more once I leave here,” I snap back at him before turning to Bo, “Will you let me give you the treatment?”

Bo eyes the doctor as his complexion seems to grow paler and then back at me to silently nod. “Only if,” he pauses to fight for air and more pain crosses his eyes, “if he leaves.”

Doctor Larden sighs as he looks at Bo who cowers away from him and back at the nurse and the guard. “I’ll be back in a while to check on him,” he resigns as he steps towards the door, “and to make sure you’re doing it right.”

“Oh don’t worry. I’ll do it right,” I smirk at him as I take the nebulizer off the night stand as they reluctantly leave us alone. “You shouldn’t be fighting them, Bo. They are here to help and you fighting them is only making it worse for yourself,” I sigh heavily as I routinely put it together as I had so many years ago when it was so bad and I am reminded of how much he had hated the treatments and had fought against it. He nods wheezily as he uneasily watches me put it together and placing the medicine within the tube while a lone tear streaks down his pale cheeks. Either from pain or fear or both. “It’s OK Bo. I understand,” I force a smile at him before I take the tubes out of his nose before placing the air mask upon his face and turning the machine on and the familiar noise fills the room.

“There we go,” I respond as I place the nebulizer base upon the stand while I run a hand through his hair for a moment as worry fills me. I slowly glance up at his clock to find it to be one thirty before I slowly walk to the foot of his bed to look at his chart to see he had a treatment only an hour and a half ago. This treatment is for the attack he is now having, in attempt to calm it down after his inhaler didn’t do anything to it. Taking a deep breath, I slowly glance up to find him struggling heavily against sleep as exhaustion slowly sinks in from his fighting against the doctors and for air. “It’s OK Bo…let it come,” I speak of the sleep he is fighting against, “I’ll be here when you wake up.” He eyes me widely for a moment before he quickly falls asleep, assured by my promise.

*                      *                      *                      *                      *

Abruptly, the thick silence that had built within the small and dark room over the past half hour is interrupted as Bo yells out in his sleep before he quickly awakens with fear and pain penetrating in his baby blue eyes. “Bo,” I softly say as I pull myself away from the window to walk over to his bed where he cautiously eyes me. For a silent moment, I listen into his wheezy breathing while watching his chest slowly and forcefully heaving up a bit before collapsing once again. Silently watching and awaiting for another attack to come about since his doctor had said his last attack had been triggered by awaking yelling out in fear. Satisfied that an attack isn’t approaching, I ask, “How you feel?”

He stares blankly at me for a moment before he abruptly directs his attention towards the dark ceiling. After a long moment, he slowly answers, “It hurts. I want to -“ he abruptly cuts himself off as if he has just suddenly realized something or remembered something.

“He’s told you, hasn’t he?” I finally ask after a moment of waiting for him to continue only for silence to continue to build, “About the man Rosco arrested and his sister.” Through the silence, I watch his dark shadow stiffly nod, refusing to look at me and to show me his emotions through the dark. “You want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” he quickly asks before slowly turning to look at me.

“There’s a lot to talk about, Bo. I know how hard this must be on you,” I pause thoughtfully before reaching over to turn on the light and Bo blinks forcefully to clear his vision. “Sorry. Have a hard time talking to a shadow,” I receive a small smile with that before I grow serious, “I can’t imagine how you must feel about all that Jesse had to tell you. Or how I would react.”

Bo looks at me for a long silent moment, struggling within himself whether to say something about all that Jesse had told him or to keep it to himself. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he finally declares as a single tear breaks lose to roll down his pale right cheek, “I just want it to all,” he pauses to fight for air, “to go away.”

“I know you do, buddy,” I nod in agreement, “so do I. We’ll stick together, we’ll get through this just as we’ve gotten through hard times in the past.”