Dread and fear deeply penetrates my tense body as I numbly glance around the small van at the group of men I have worked with for years, performing the same task day in and day out. Each task different yet the same. And yet, an unknown fear quickly wraps itself around me to send my thoughts racing for a reason for the fear, of why today would be different from any other day. Coming up empty, I sigh heavily while sitting back down upon a small milk cart to take in everyone else’s composure trying to embrace how they may be feeling. Each face is set stone solid as they look over the plans, the plans we have been working for weeks to make it perfect, to assure that it will work out as planned. Just like any other job we have been sent to do.

“Mueller,” a brisk voice captures my attention and I glance up from the floor of the old van to look up at Sergeant Frank Mills who’s creamy blue eyes are stone cold and emotionless as they always are during a raid.

“Yes sir,” I stiffly stand up to stand a couple inches shorter than him and a few years younger as well.

“You look nervous,” he slowly replies as he lies a firm hand upon my tense shoulder. The right sleeve of his coat rises with the motion and the thick ugly scar that runs five inches down his right outer forearm shows, “you want to talk about it? We’ve been over the plan for weeks now. . .if we all stick to our job, we should be in and out within ten minutes.”

“I . . .I don’t know sir,” I shrug as I feel my confidence slowly seeping away from me as I glance at my partner. The partner I had been stationed with for the past seven years and have yet to regret having such an intelligent, strong, and intuitive man to be partnered with, who has years of experience despite his age. “I just have this gut feeling that’s saying something’s wrong or something will go wrong.”

“You worry too much, Treyton,” he says resorting to my first name, “I guess that’s why we’re partnered together. You’re the worrier and I’m the muscle. You see any flaw with the plan? Something that needs to change? Tell me now, Mueller. We can’t just abort now just because of a gut feeling.”

I glance around at the van full of FBI agents who look at me, awaiting for my answer and perhaps a reason of their own to give up and go home. Looking back at Sergeant Mills, I slowly shake my head and say, “No sir, I can’t think or see anything.”

“OK then,” he nods before stepping back a bit to take everyone in, “is everyone ready then? Everyone knows their position and job?”

Silence fills the van as everyone nods in agreement, their thoughts lost in their role of the plan as well as emotions that comes along with the raid. “What if Max isn’t in there, sir?” a young and inexperience agent speaks from the rear of the van, his watery brown eyes looks nervously from Frank and onto me and back to Frank.

“He’s in. Agent Kepper watched him drive in a couple of hours ago and has yet to leave. In fact, if all is correct, they all are in there,” Mills responds, “which makes now a perfect time. . .before anyone leaves. If all goes well, we can get them all at once and be done with this,” he pauses as he glances around the van once more awaiting more questions, “OK let’s do this!”

I watch impatiently as agents slowly and swiftly hop out of the van before going their separate directions as was planned so well weeks ago as we have spied upon the gang. The gang that has robbed banks, gas stations, stores, gun and ammo stores while holding the customers and employers hostage before their getaway car arrived. So far they have injured and killed many who had happened to get in the way or didn’t listen to what they were told to do. Including women and children. The gang seems as heartless as a tank of metal and as tough as steel as they have eluded  arrest for the past few years as they terrorized the southern states.

Attempting to hide and forget my gut feeling that screams within me, I silently follow Mills through the back yard of a run down small house to get to the street that lies on the other side. After following the road a block, we trespass through another run down house before arriving at the back of a large concrete building that at one time had been an old factory. A factory of soap and detergents before it had run out of money and out of business to send a lot of people not only jobless, but homeless when they couldn’t find work after the factory.

“Ready?” Mills asks me while watching me with his creamy eyes, “We’re through the back, Martinez and Santiago through the west side, Almer and Tucker in the east, and Romo, Andrews, Nart, and McGibs in the front. Easy in and out. We are to get Max and the son while the rest will go for the rest of the gang.”

“Just as planned,” I nod in understanding as Mills’ radio begins to hiss before the teams begin to report they are in position. “I’m ready when you’re ready.”

“One,” Mills begins the count down to three, “two,” he eyes me before his eyes wonder around us, looking for activity. Nodding at me he lies a firm hand upon the old rusted handle. “THREE!” With that he quickly jerks the door open and together we step in to find a bunch of men sorted across the large and open room. A table is set up where four large men sit playing a game of cards, while at another table five other men are cleaning and loading guns, a couple other men rest in the corner counting bags of money. A few young woman rest in the opposite corner painting nails and looking at magazines. Though standing in the center in the room lies Max Dulback, the notorious leader of the gang. At the age of forty-seven, he stands tall and muscular with a head full of thick dark graying hair with thick beard and mustache. His twenty year old son, Connor, stands next to him at only an inch shorter than Max with a crew cut of dark black hair. They both stand in the middle of the room with a bottle of beer in their hands while looking at a thick and tattered notebook that Max holds out front for them both to see. Perhaps talking over future plans to rob another store or going over past robberies that they had performed. Either way, they both were talking and laughing before being interrupted by agents storming in on all four walls.

As we all barge into the large and open room, everything within seems to come to a halt as they begin to yell out and look back at Max with panic and surprise. “FBI! Freeze!” Sergeant Mills yells as they all go for their guns. “You all are under arrest . . .drop your guns and surrender and no one will get hurt!”

“Fat chance fed!” Max yells as he turns slowly around with his gun pointed, taking us all in. “Perhaps you all should drop your guns and surrender. . .just then maybe no one will get hurt!”

Slowly, Mills and I begin to distance ourselves while the other agents do the same, targeting in on the member we were assigned to. Fear and surprise rushes at me as Connor abruptly lets out a couple of shots to send me sliding to the ground for cover. Over the echoing of the shots off of the walls, I hear Max yell something at someone while I glance around before slowly rising to my feet to once again begin to circle the young kid. “You don’t want to do this, kid,”I caution him as I keep my gun pointed at him, “we may be able to work a deal with you. . .but you shoot me or anyone else, you’ll be doing some hard time behind bars. Perhaps you should ask your old man how it feels to be locked up in a small cell with hardened criminals.”

“I don’t have to listen to you or anyone else of your feddie friends,” he snarls at me and as I grow closer to him, I see dark black tattoos running up and down his muscular arms, “and you don’t know how bad I want to do this. To send a bullet right through you and see the blood coming from you. It’s you all that took my dad away from my mom, my brothers, and I. All he did was defend himself.”

I shake my head as I quietly recall Max’s criminal record and how he had spent years in and out of jail since he had turned fifteen years, so many years ago. He had spent the most time in jail when he had killed another gang leader in a deadly fight, Max won twelve years in jail and had only spent six years behind bars for good behavior. “Two wrongs don’t make a right, Connor,” I reply as a few gun shots echo from somewhere else in the room to send chills racing up and down my back. “You come with me nice and easy like and we can make a deal. Perhaps stitch up some kind of future for you.”

“Yeah by turning my back against my dad, by turning him in. Is that how it works? Well you can,” he pauses as his index finger quickly pulls the trigger and before I can react the metal bullet sharply buries itself painfully in my upper chest. I yell out in pain as I am harshly thrown to the concrete floor as the world seems to spin around me, darkness crawls upon me to send my thoughts racing. Racing to my wife and kids at home that awaits for me, of Jason’s football game this Saturday and of Keith’s soccer practice, and Jill’s dance recital Sunday. “Forget it,” Connor finishes his sentence, sounding far away and distant to pull me back into the present. Ignoring the searing pain that grows intenser by the second, I slowly kneel up and struggle for my balance before slowly standing up, my gun pointed at him.

“You going to shoot me again, Connor?” I ask, my own speech seeming distant to my ringing ears as I continue to struggle for my balance while my gun remains pointed at him, struggling the urge to shoot him back in return. “You pull that trigger again, I’ll pull mine and I can guarantee you that I have a better shot than you. I have more experience.”

“Experience?” he shakes his head through my blurred vision, “I’ve been shooting guns since I was six years old. . .I just shot you, didn’t I? One more shot and you’ll be dead, agent. If you know what’s best you’ll back off and pull your pals with you. NOW! Or I’ll shoot you dead. . .leave that wife of your’s a widow.”

Anger intensely rises within me at his threat as I force myself to refrain myself while continuing to circle him. Mills lies just outside of my line of sight as he stands in for battle against the leader, the leader that has organized the whole gang. “We’re not going no where until you all are put to a stop. You all have to answer to the crimes you’ve committed, to the murders you’ve committed,” my speech is slurred and more fear rises within me as he goes to aim once again. His gun hand is strong and steady, his aim has been proven close to perfect.

“You’ve had your chance,”he shakes his head at me as his index finger once again heavily rests upon the trigger, a broad smile flashed across his handsomely young face. Fighting against the blackness that begins to surround me, I abruptly pull my trigger to throw me harshly back upon the ground. A loud and agonizing yell echoes off of the walls as another gun shot rings out, the bullet escaping Connor’s gun misses me and fires into thin air. Regret quickly fills me as I glance up from the ground to find Connor lying silently still upon the floor, blood soaks up his tight white tank top from his left chest.

“Connor!” I hear Max’s voice yell and he runs to his fallen son to check his pulse, “You killed him! You’ve killed my son!” he goes quiet as he looks around the room, panic, pain, and sadness fills his green eyes as he points his gun at me while Mills attempts to pull him off only for another member to sandbag him down to the ground. “You won’t,” he walks over to me, his gun drawn on me as he once again looks around the room before he sends a gun shot into thin air. Abruptly, a bunch of panicked and surprised yelling crosses the room before people begin to run towards the back door. “You won’t get away with this,” he kicks my gun away from me before he rips open my coat to pull out my badge wallet from the inside pocket, “Agent Treyton Mueller. A bullet is too good for you a piece of garbage as yourself, so I’ll let you suffer with the damage Connor did to you.” With that a tear leaks down his face as he sends a harsh kick into my stomach to send my pain to grow worse before a sense of numbness surrounds me, “You killed my son and I will make sure to hit you where it hurts. Make you suffer for what you did”

He goes silent as he looks back at his fallen son and then around him as confusion has captivated everyone while most of his gang has ran out, leaving the agents following them. I yell out in more pain as he sends a series of kicks into my chest for a long moment before he forcefully steps on top of me with his booted feet. Blackness grows closer and darker as breathing suddenly grows painful and sparse as a loud ringing continues to pierce my ears. “Treyton!” I hear Mills’ normal calm and authoritive voice, now full of fear and panic, as he kneels down besides me. “Let me look. The ambulance is on it’s way,” he says urgently as he gently pulls back my coat and I force myself to look as thick blood continues to run out through my upper right chest. Once again, my thoughts fall back onto my family and all the events that had been lined up. All that I will miss because I was too slow to duck out of the way. “Tell Liz that I -“ I gasp painfully for air as the blackness grows deeper around me, everyone seeming to be distant, “love her. Give the kids a hug and tell them-“ I cough harshly for blood to enter my mouth with it’s thick coppery taste, “I’m proud of them.”

“Hey Trey,” Frank says and I look up at him to once again be surprised at the emotions that he is allowing to be shown, emotions he always hides so well, “hang on and help will be here. You can tell them all that yourself. . .hang tight, buddy.”

I nod as more agents begin to surround me and a piercing ambulance rings from out of the open door. “Help’s here already for you,” Martinez responds with a thick Spanish accent, “you just have to fight it and hang tight. Just like I did a couple years ago, if I can get shot and live through it. So can you.” He says speaking of another raid that had gone wrong, killing his partner and critically injuring him with a shot to his left chest and another in the stomach.

“Where’s Max?” I ask as his threat hangs thickly in my drowning mind, “His gang? You -“

”Don’t worry about him,” Frank says, his way of saying they got away as men run in with a stretcher, “we’ll do the worrying this time. This time it’s your turn to rest and relax. No more worrying until they’ve got you stitched up. That’s a order.”

“Yes sir,” I force a smile as blackness quickly falls over me while my body goes numb of all the pain. 

*                                  *                      *                      *                      *

“Max!” I hear myself yelling out in fear before abruptly awakening from the nightmare that has plagued me for the past six months and into the thick darkness that covers our bedroom. Icy cold sweat continues to run down my face and down my back to soak into my white under t-shirt while the dream continues to display within me. Un-consciencally, I feel my hand going up to my right chest where a long and rugged scar runs four inches just above my chest, where I had gotten shot at. Fear and pain continues to grip me beyond the nightmare before I slowly and gently pull myself to my feet to begin to walk towards the door in the dark.

“Another bad dream?” I hear Liz ask behind me in a groggy voice, “You want to talk about it? It might help -“

”No!” I yell turning to her before taking a deep breath as regret sinks in, “I’m sorry. No I don’t want to talk about it. Not until we -“ I abruptly turn quiet as tears enter my mind as my thoughts leave the nightmare that haunts my sleep and falls onto the nightmare we are currently living, “Not until we catch Max and throw his sorry butt in jail and get Keith home and safe.”

Silence restores in our dark room as I fight my emotions to turn back to face my wife who sits up in bed and through the darkness I see her thin frame shaking in the harsh emotions that has been eating away at us all. “What if,” she pauses, her voice is full of tears, “you don’t get him home and safe. I mean they’ve got -“

”We’ll get him home,” I silently assure her as I walk over to draw her into a tight hug as the phone call once again replays in my mind. The phone call I had gotten from Max personally to say they’ve got my youngest son and if I wanted to see him again, I’ll do whatever he wants me to do. Including pulling the police off of them while they rob stores at gun point, using Keith as their insurance to get what they want. No one wants to see a kid hurt. “Frank’s as good as it gets and he is already got a plan in the works to trap Max and to get Keith back.”

“Just like he did six months ago when you went into that raid that got you shot?” she snaps at me, “I won’t be assured until I am hugging my baby and making sure myself that he’s OK!”

I silently nod as my thoughts once again returns to that dreadful day of that raid, of killing Max’s son and at his threat of getting back at me by hitting me where it hurts. My son. “A son for a son,” his gravelly voice rings loudly in my head of the first phone call he had called just an hour after kidnaping him at the bus stop, “you killed my son, now I’ve got your’s. Now you will know how it feels to see the one thing that means the most to you hurt and taken away from you! It’s only fair now isn’t it? A son for a son.” His evil laughter continues to ring my ears to send sharp chills racing down my body before I force myself to pick up the picture that rests on Liz’s night stand. A picture of the whole family with smiles spread across their faces that was taken at a picnic only a month ago. A couple of weeks before Keith’s disappearance and before our world was turned upside down.

“I’m working with Frank on this…trust me if not him, we’ll get Keith back home safe,” I finally say to give her a soft kiss, “We’ve got a small lead on him, we’ll find him and when we do, I’ll make damn sure we get him. Max will be dealing with me this time, personally.”

She nods before stiffly standing up to walk out of the bedroom and down the hall to check on our other kids who are shook up and afraid due to their brother’s disappearance. All because I shot Connor who had shot at me first, because of who I am, my kids are in danger. Because of me, Keith is now the victim being kidnaped and at gun point and whatever else Max has done to him. Intense anger flares harshly within me as mind once again fixates upon the raid six months ago and to my kidnaped son, struggling harshly for answers on how to get him back. How to get my family back to how it was before that raid had occurred. “Keifer,” I quietly say as my attention goes back upon the picture, using the nickname that Keith had been dubbed with since he was a toddler, “dad will find you. When he does, Max is going to pay personally for any harm and fear he has put you through!” Tears once again begin to build in my eyes before they slowly begin to trail down my unkept face as my thoughts flash back upon happier times in the past before bouncing back to the present, the present that has sent everyone filled with fear and anger towards Keifer’s disappearance.  If I hadn’t.   .   .

“So where’re they at?” Liz’s voice is thick with tears as she reenters the bedroom, hugging her nightgown close to her while she wipes at her face forcefully, “Where they got Keith at?” I look up at her questionably as my mind remains upon the raid, of shooting Max’s son and the fear and pain that had spread across the kid’s face as he hit the concrete floor. Of the tears streaming down Max’s hardened ugly face as he looked down at his fallen son covered in blood. Of the hateful act I had been forced to commit in order to save myself. The board had thoroughly looked into the shooting and death of Connor and had verified it as necessary and un-prevented. According to them, I hadn’t done anything wrong by the shooting. Yet a deep guilt continues to stealthily crawl through me, not only due to my son’s kidnaping, but that I had taken Connor’s life before it really had time to begin. I have killed other men out of defense, normally in the defense of innocent bystanders or victims of criminals, and had felt justified in taking their life to save another. But none as young as Connor who had been acting out on his father’s accord, doing what he was taught to do. “Trey,” Liz says impatiently to bring my attention from my thoughts to her, “you said you had a small lead on Max’s gang. Where they got our boy at?”

I shake my head at her. “You know I can’t tell you the details of our investigation,” I pause as my mind falls back onto Mills’ plans on tracking Max, “it involving Keifer doesn’t make the rules differ any. I know it doesn’t make it easy on you, but if they knew I have been telling you, I could get pulled off. Put on probation. Fired…or worse. I’m sorry honey.”

She nods silently in understanding before she slowly moves the rest of the way into the room to walk to our window that over looks the back yard and the play set.  “I always knew you were at risk with your job. . .I knew that when I married you and first met you,” she sniffles, “but I never imagined it putting our children at risk. . .of this happening to Keifer. I always thought of it to be in the movies. How could anyone hurt an innocent -“ She cuts herself off as I hear more sniffles from her as she once again begins to cry and I slowly approach her to hug her once more.

“I’m sorry, Liz,” I firmly respond as the fights that had broke out between us roars in my ears, of her anger and accusations towards me for Keith’s kidnaping. “I really am. Don’t you think that I would change what I did if I knew this were to happen? I would much rather him to kill me than to watch Keith disappear and become the victim of him. I really would.”

She sniffles and nods, too tired to fight early this morning. “So you’ve said. I believe you,” she shakes her head as she pulls herself away from me to glare me in the eye with angered green eyes, “but I still can’t help but to blame you for what happened. I’m sorry.”

I nod in resignation, knowing to argue with her would only start another heated fight over who is and who is not to blame for Keith being kidnaped, while knowing deep down that Max is the one that is to blame, not Liz and not me. “I blame myself if it helps you any. I keep thinking of that kid,” I softly say and flames of anger soar in her eyes as she hears my pity towards Connor in my voice. Placing my hands in surrender, I say, “Look Liz, Connor was only doing what he was taught to do. Yeah it was to take my life and everyone keeps saying I was defending myself, but in order to defend myself, I shot and killed Connor. I took his life before it even began, before he had a chance.”

“Please,” she rolls her eyes at me. Her please comes out sounding like pol-ease, her normally soft and gentle voice comes out full of attitude and anger. “That kid got what he deserved and the sooner you come to terms and realize that, Treyton, the better off you will be. Perhaps, if you stop feeling sorry for yourself and for the kid you shot, you would be able to find Max and tear his pathetic steel heart he has out of that ugly body of his for all that he’s done to our son!” She looks coldly and angrily at me for a long moment before she pushes me away to walk back towards the hall. Entering the hall, she slowly turns around and calmly says, “I’m going down for a cup of coffee. . and to be by myself for a while. If and when I need your company, you’ll be the first to know.”

I watch as she slowly turns around to walk down the thin hall way to the stairs that rest the other end of the house as her cold words spoken with pain and anger continues to haunt within me. Only to force my own guilt to rise heavily within me as I return to glaring out the window and at the empty swing set. The swing set that Keith has spent so much time playing on, playing super hero and showing off; the swing set that hasn’t been touched in the couple of weeks since Keith had been kidnaped.

***SHERIFF COLTRANE***

A sharp shudder of fear harshly rushes across my numb body as I stare silently in disbelief at the thick off white poster that I hold tightly onto with sweaty and shaky hands. “Wanted,” I slowly read the big and bold letters that lies printed on the top of the poster while two men stare back at me from the two black and white pictures that lies directly underneath the bold letters. The man on the left is the older with a head full of thick dark gray hair that matches his thick beard and mustache that lies parted by an ugly scar running vertically up his right jaw bone, Max Dulback is printed under the picture. The man on the right stares at me with hardened eyes and thick dark hair that seems to be tightly pulled back, the name of Randal Flintz lies printed under the picture.

“Who and why?” Hogg says with irritation and impatience thickly entwined with the three words he had spoken. Looking up, he impatiently motions me to go on with his lit cigar as he sinks farther into the desk that lies in front of my old desk.

“Max Dulback and Randal Flintz. Leaders of a gang that has hit several towns and cities across the south,” I slowly begin to read the small paragraph at the bottom of the poster, “they are wanted for bank robberies, store theft, gun theft, selling and using drugs. They have injured and killed several innocent people during robberies that happened to get in the way including law enforcers who had tried stopping them as well as the kidnaping of a five year old boy who they use as leverage for their robberies. Are known to be armed and dangerous.”

Hogg nods smugly as he sucks on his cigar for a long moment before he blows out a thick dark gray cloud of smoke as he silently thinks of all that I had just read, to allow it to sink in. “How much?” he finally breaks his silence and as I give him a look of question, he continues, “How much for the reward of those two men?”

I nod in understanding as my own impatience and anger towards him continues to grow within me in realization of his greed resurfacing. “I should have known that was what your fat mind was thinking about,” I shake my head in disbelief at him, “while these dangerous men are out robbing stores and killing people, you are sitting there thinking of yourself and of money. How selfish and greedy can you be, Hogg?”

He eyes me momentarily before anger enters his dark brown eyes. “What is wrong with you, Rosco?” he impatiently asks as he angrily smashes his cigar into my metal garbage can, “First your rant the other day of accusing me of making you dishonest, of making you be who you are today and now this? What’s gotten into you?!”

I shake my head at him as my mind continues to fall back upon the poster and all that it had said, of the violent acts of hatred that these men are capable of performing, and how they roam freely within the south. Perhaps somewhere near Hazzard. Attempting to push those thoughts aside, I quickly reply, “Perhaps it’s not what has gotten into me now, but what had gotten into me years ago when I agreed to be your partner! Look Hogg, I highly respect and like you. . .it’s not easy to say this to you. Of how I feel,” I pause heavily, “but someone has to point it out to you, because you obviously remain clueless of how dangerous and violent these men seem to be. Just think of the damages they’ve already have done. . .and will do. Imagine what they would do to Hazzard. . .your bank for instance. Or the people. They aren’t just about money, Hogg, it’s about justice and safety of our town. . .of our state, our country.”

“How patriotic of you Rosco,” he smirks at me sarcastically, “but all I had asked was how much they have put for the reward. We could earn big money I bet catching and putting those men behind bars. . .so we’d both have our ways. I’d have the money and you could have your dangerous criminals behind bars and my town safe and peaceful.”

“Your town? How about our town,” I slowly suggest as I eye the poster once more before reluctantly answering him, “Seventy-five thousand dollars for the two leaders, ten thousand dollars for the people under them. Five hundred dollars for any good information that will lead to them.” I pause to take in my long time friend as I feel fear and panic beginning to twirl rapidly within me as I continue to think of the men that stares at me from the poster. “There is a reason why these men haven’t been captured yet, Hogg. Because they are strong, smart, and violent. If the FBI in Atlanta couldn’t catch them, how can I catch a whole gang-full of dangerous men that will shoot and kill anyone and anything?”

“Ah you hold such little hope,” Hogg shakes his head at me, “don’t be such a pessimistic, Rosco. You and Enos can get a bunch of men together, deputize a bunch of young men that is willing to help out. Hell, even the Dukes would be willing to help put such men behind bars. . .and Luke with his Marine background. . .”

“Not so easy Hogg. That’d be placing the citizens of Hazzard in direct danger,” I shake my head at him, “I nor you can do that.”

“You’ll have to do something if and when they find their way to Hazzard,” Hogg lights another cigar, “other than to hide your sorry self in a closet and hope that they’ll go away.  You’ll have to face them with a plan and hope it works,” he points the cigar at me while eyeing me crazily, “because I’m not having no gang come and rob my bank and injure or kill the people in my town. You’re the sheriff of this town and if they happen to be in our county, then it is your job to arrest and stop them. If you can’t do that, then I’ll have to go elect another sheriff. You understand?”

“Yeah, I understand,” I nod angrily at him, “but that all is not what I was talking about and you know damn well what I had meant. This is not going to work into one of your twisted schemes just to get money. This is serious Hogg and it is to be taken seriously. . .not just for the money. I will be thinking of a plan or a way to deal with these thugs for when and if they do come into Hazzard, we’ll need to be prepared just in case. But I am not going to go around and talk to people until I see or hear that they have come a danger to Hazzard, then I will start putting the plan into action. A plan that I have to agree to.”

“Agreed then,” Hogg nods at me as he grabs the poster out of my hand to eye it himself for a short moment before the wooden door opens and Deputy Enos Strate walks in carrying three cups of coffee from the café across the street, “Enos, hang this up on the board with the other posters.”

“Yes sir. Morning sir, sheriff,” he nods at us as he sets the Styrofoam cups down on my desk to take the poster to look at it a moment before fear enters his face, “I heard this on the radio the other day. An FBI agent shot and killed the leader’s son in a raid. . .the son had shot the agent first and was going to shoot him again. The agent shot and killed him to save his life,” he pauses for a short moment to recall the story, “only for the leader…Max to kidnap the agent’s son in revenge towards the death of his own son. Now is using the agent’s son to rob banks and stores, to get whatever they want. That poor kid.”

I nod in agreement as silence enters the room once more as Enos’ statement seems to hang over us to send harsh emotions to fall upon us. “Hang the poster up, Enos,” Hogg stiffly responds after a moment to break the silence. Enos nods before he walks over to the bulletin to hang up the poster as he had been instructed to.

***JESSE DUKE***

Staring up at the tall and proud brick building that looms over the other buildings that line Main Street, my thoughts slowly falter back to the past of the memories that are rooted within such a haunted and fearful place. Of where I had went to seal the deal with each child, to give my legal custody over Bo, Luke, and Daisy when they were either orphaned or abandoned, where they all had went to require their driver’s license at with pride and joy. And where they all have at one time or another had spent several hours and days locked behind bars for one false charge or another. Especially Bo and Luke who attracts more trouble out of anyone in the family, either due to their fast car, hot tempers, or to their will do right no matter what. They also report within the tall and proud building to their probation officer J.D. Hogg.  The old court house holds onto all legal services that is open to Hazzard. “I’m sorry, Jesse,” Kristy softly says in the passenger seat of my old truck to break the silence and I questionably glance over at her to find mixed emotions storming in her green eyes, “for bringing you all into this. I know how it looks-“ she cuts herself off as an expensive, bold black Jaguar pulls up to a stop outside her window. Looking back at me, she slowly continues “I know how it looks for Garrett. With his past, us being the only new people in town, and him being the one to report it doesn’t help anything.”

“Well Kristy,” I sigh heavily as I watch a tall and older man with graying dark hair slowly pull himself out of the driver’s seat of the Jaguar, looking in at us with bright blue eyes, “I’m not saying whether I think he’s innocent or not. I don’t know. But what I do know is that we have to find out the whole truth and in order for me to do that, I want to hear his side of the story. Not just the law’s.. . .the law around here has a nice reputation about being wrong a lot of the time.”

She flashes a smile as she reluctantly opens the door before saying, “Well thank-you for giving him a chance. . .us a chance,” she pauses as she climbs out of the truck and I reluctantly open my door as my mind falls back over twenty-five years ago when I had last seen William. When he had picked Jayne up at the farm after she had given Jeremiah the papers for divorce, the divorce to an poor moonshine farmer to marry a defense lawyer that had already earned a lot of money. A defense lawyer that had already won a couple of big cases despite how young he had been back then and had only grown financially and in fame over the years in Atlanta. Forcefully swallowing back painful spiteful memories, I slowly walk to the side walk where Kristy stands with the well distinguished William Thortan, talking amongst themselves after their step dad and daughter hug. “Jesse Duke, this is William -“

”Thortan,” I finish her thoughts as William extends a large muscular hand out that holds several gold expensive rings and an expensive looking watch. I reluctantly shake his hand while saying, “I remember. How’ve you been William?”

“Been pretty good, Jesse,” he flashes a bright smile at me as he motions me to lead the way, “just wish I was down here on better circumstances. I have yet to meet the famous Garrett that Kristy has talked about, I guess now will be my chance to do so.”

“Mine as well,” I reluctantly agree as I open the glass door for them and we begin to walk down the narrow and dimly lit hallway with a few closed doors on each side of the hall. I slowly fall into silence as Kristy and William begin to talk amongst themselves to allow my thoughts begin to wonder once again; from Jayne running from my brother for a rich lawyer, to Cooter lying lost in a coma, to the young Duke I have yet to meet that is held behind bars. An icy chill runs down my spine as Bo’s young and innocent eyes looks back at me from my thoughts, bright blue eyes full of shock, fear, and pain while struggling to breathe. His raspy and wheezy voice continues to echo within me of all the blood he had seen, convinced that Cooter will die. “Here we are,” I numbly say to break my silence to slowly open the door just as Enos walks out.

“Jesse,” he says surprised before he eyes William and Kristy. Looking back at me he slowly asks, “How’s Cooter and Bo doing? Rosco told me what happened.”

Sighing heavily I slowly say, “They lost Cooter for a minute last night, it took them a while to bring him back they say,” I pause as a deep sense of sadness once again explodes within me, “and Bo seems to be about the same. If they think he’s improved any by this afternoon, he’ll be able to come home.”

He nods sullenly. “I’m real sorry to hear about both of them. They’re in my prayers,” he says quietly, “if there is anything I can do to help. . .anything. Just let me know, Jesse. I want to help.”

“Thanks Enos. We appreciate that,” I respond as William and Kristy boldly walks past us and into the sheriff’s station, “but for now, your prayers is all that you can do.”

“Yes sir,” he nods again before he begins to walk past me, “I have to get going, but you just give me a call if you need anything.”

“Thanks Enos,” I respond as I watch him walk away for a moment before I step into the sheriff’s station to find William and Kristy talking to Rosco and J.D. who look upon them both angrily.

“You two can go on and on about Mr. Garrett Duke’s innocence all you want, but the evidence points otherwise,” Rosco says as he grabs a piece of paper from his desk, “if that’s not enough. Look what came in this morning when I called in his arrest,” Rosco pauses as he looks at the paper for a moment, “This here is a report that Knoxville Police Department from Tennessee has sent in to us. It says that Garrett Duke is wanted for theft, vandalism, resisting arrest, and assaulting a police officer. . .it’s not too big of a leap to see that he’s capable of brutally attacking and beating Cooter as he had!”

“I know sheriff,” Kristy says exasperated, “it looks bad, it looks like he did that horrible thing. But he couldn’t have. . .he was in there for two minutes! There’s no way he could do all that in just two minutes. No way!”

“Save it for court,” Rosco rolls his piercing eyes before he eyes me, “Jesse. I’m surprised to see you here. . .you’re presence says you agree with Ms. Duke here. After what he did to Cooter -“

”I’m not here to agree or to disagree with anyone, sheriff,” I harshly respond as I eye Hogg and Coltrane, “I’m here to find the truth. In order to do that, I need to hear Garrett’s side of the story.”

“Well do what you wish, Jesse,” J.D. chimes in, “you’re just wasting time.”

“Just as you are wasting my time with my client that I need to see, commissioner,” William threatenly steps up to Hogg to point at him, “I am here to see Garrett Duke, of which I believe you have him jailed in somewhere within this hick jail of yours.”

“Yeah. Downstairs,” Hogg slowly responds as he shakes his head in disbelief, “You know, William. I never did care too much for Jeremiah Duke after all he had done to Hazzard in his time, but I had to feel sorry for him when Jayne ran away with the likes of you. You flash a wad of cash in front of someone’s face and you expect to get what you want. . .not like Jeremiah did or anyone else in Hazzard who had to work hard to get what they want. They had to earn what they wanted.”

“I don’t care how you feel towards me, Hogg. I never cared much for you nor this hick town to begin with,” he looks at Kristy and at me, “I never saw what Jayne had seen in this town or Jeremiah. . .nor do I see why Kristy wants to move herself and her kids here. Though I don’t worry much, she’ll get bored soon enough and move her family back to Atlanta so her kids can get decent education and find ways to stay out of trouble.”

“Is that why there’s more crime in Atlanta than Hazzard?” Hogg shoots back, “Because they have better education and more things to do?” Hogg mimics him.

“Look William, Hogg,” Kristy says firmly to bring everyone’s attention onto her, “we are not here to diss one another or the reasons we all have for the lifestyles we live. We all have different lifestyles…we all agree on that. We’re here for Garrett!”

William looks fondly at Kristy before giving her a comforting hug. “You’re right, sweety,” he steps away to look at Hogg, “I’ll be asking how you all have treated him. If he says you even looked at him wrong, you all will be answering to me. You won’t be liking it very much. Understoond?”

“Git. . .git,” Rosco stutters as he defensively steps in between Hogg and William to force William to step away from the commissioner, “I don’t care who you think you are Mr. Thortan,” Rosco pauses and surprise sinks in at seeing how matter-of-fact and serious Rosco is, “but no one walks into my jail and talks to either I or Commissioner Hogg there like that! If you wish to talk to that client of yours, you better change that attitude here and now or I’ll be escorting you out of my jail myself!” Silence fills the open room as I watch the exchange between the two men, the two men that I’ve had mixed emotions for over the past years. “Understood Mr. Throtan?”

“Yes sir, sheriff,” William lowers his head momentarily before he steps away towards the stairs, holding tightly onto his black leather briefcase in his right hand, “excuse me. I have a job to do.”

“No. Wait,” I abruptly say and everyone stares at me, “I want to go down there and talk to Garrett first.”

“No way, Jesse,” William angrily says while threatenly stepping towards me, “I’m his lawyer, he needs to talk to me before he talks to any hick farmer. Whether he’s related to you or not.”

I look up at Hogg and Rosco for a moment and then defensively at the tall lawyer. “No. I want to talk to him before you go down there and hear from him personally what all happened,” I pause as I step closer to him to show him I’m not afraid of him, “I want to hear it from him before you are allowed to taint his story.”

“Garrett has a right to an attorney,” William shoots back at me.

“Look William,” Kristy steps in between us, putting her back towards me to talk to William, “let Jesse go down and talk to Garrett. Let him hear his story. . .after all that his family is going through, he deserves the truth. Please,” she pleas to William, “Garrett can handle talking to Jesse without a help of a lawyer. . .Jesse represents no threat towards Garrett or your case. Just let him go talk to Garrett.”

William silently looks from Kristy to me and then back at Kristy before reluctantly nodding. “Fine, Jesse,” he eyes me harshly, “but you better keep it quick. I have a busy schedule.”

“I’m sure you do,” I spit back at him before I quickly walk around him and towards the stairs my thoughts fall back on the past, of walking down these stairs to go talk to Bo and Luke. Now it is for another nephew, another nephew that I had only saw as an infant when Jeremiah had taken him home with pride and love. Something he had never felt for Bo due towards his own guilt that had been planted deeply within him from the illnesses Bo suffered due to their drugs and other activities they had done while pregnant. Something they could forget about with Garrett since he was for the most part healthy despite everything. Sighing heavily as I reach the last couple of steps, I struggle to shove my emotions towards my brother and his wife behind me while focusing on the present, of meeting Garrett for the first time as an adult.

As I walk down onto the basement level, a large dark figure comes into view through the bars, lying still upon the old tattered cot within the far cell, lean legs resting upon the brick wall. “Go away,” a harsh and cold voice says from the shadow before I approach his cell. Standing in front of his cell, I quietly take in his muscular frame and a chill runs down my body as a thick and long scar brightly shows through the darkness running down the right side of his neck and under his chin.

“Not until we talk, Garrett,” I dryly respond while I grab one of the wooden and cracked stools to slowly sit on it. After a short moment of silence, he slowly and reluctantly sits up to eye me with cold and emotionless gray eyes that sends chills up and down my back. “I’m Jesse Duke. Your dad’s brother.”

“I know who you are,” he quickly says, attitude and hatred thickly laces his words as he continues to eye me unblinkingly while his right hand traces his thick scar. His dark sandy blond hair is cut thinly around the sides and back while a little thicker and spiked on top, a thin half inch of side burns run down the front of his ears while a thin goatee surrounds his mouth. Two silver ring ear rings line his lower right earlobe while a lone silver stud lies in his left ear lobe. A thickly black ink tattoo lies visible upon his upper right arm ,curving with muscle, but halfway hidden under the sleeve of his t-shirt.  “Let it be known, that I ain’t too thrilled to be in your hick town and this all,” he motions around him, “don’t make me want to be here any more than I had yesterday.  And for the record,” he glares coldly at me as he forces his hand down from his pale and thick scar, “I didn’t beat that hick mechanic. He was covered in his own blood when I stepped in there to pay for the gas. Just as I told your dumb sheriff who seems to deaf as well.”

I stare at him in disbelief as anger quickly soars rapidly through me towards his attitude and through the way he is talking to me, to remind me of his dad’s attitude had been years ago when he had ran away and out of Hazzard. “You are your father’s son,” is all that I can say as I fight back my temper that soars wildly within me. As I allow silence to fall upon us, I silently begin to compare him to Bo to find very little resemblance between the two. Bo looks to be taller a little bit than Garrett with child-like innocent baby blue eyes with a head full of thick bright blond hair while Garrett stares at me with cold gray eyes and thin layer of dark blond hair with an ugly scar running down his right neck. Without knowing them to be twins, you wouldn’t guess them to be brothers, not a lone twins. “I didn’t come down here to accuse you, but to get to know you. To hear your side of the story,” I slowly begin, “That hick mechanic you are talking about, just happens to be a very close family friend, that we all care for and am affected. Second of all, I don’t care for the attitude you are given me…if you were one of my kids, you’d be marched to the barn by now to be talking to me that way. Third of all, your attitude don’t make you very convincing that you didn’t what they say you did. Rosco’s right,” I pause to slowly stand up, “it all points at you, with your background, and your attitude, well it don’t help you any.”

He shrugs silently at me as his attention moves towards the stairs as William’s voice comes audible from downstairs. “Well I ain’t one of yours and never will be,” he coldly responds as he lies back down upon the old cot, “OK, we talked now. You can leave anytime now old man.”

For a long moment I remain sitting upon the stool as my temper grows rapidly within me. “Fine, I’ll leave,” I slowly stand up, “but don’t come asking me for no help in your case. When you get sent to the pen,” I slowly back away from him, “whether you didthat to Cooter or not, you did it yourself. Enjoy your stay.”

With that I angrily walk up the stairs where Kristy and William sit upon the wooden chairs that rests by the empty desk that holds the CB radio along with a few stacks of paper, just a few feet from the closed doors that leads to more office space. “He’s all your’s, William,” I force myself to reply calmly, “enjoy.”

He eyes me for a long moment while he slowly rises before he glances back at Kristy who slowly stands next to him.  “Please say he didn’t give you any attitude,” Kristy says reluctantly and as I don’t reply, “I’ll talk to him. He’s not exactly thrilled to be in Hazzard, dad pretty much gave him the option of turning him in for the charges or he to come down here in hope of taking him away from his so called friends. Being arrested hasn’t changed his perspective on it all I imagine.”

I shrug silently at them as I struggle with my emotions and the temper that continues to boil rapidly within me. “I’ll be across the street at the garage when you’re done,” I slowly reply as I take a step from them.

Kristy nods as she watches William wait at the foot of the stairs for her. “I’ll be right out. I just want to say something to him quickly and then I can join you,” she pauses for a moment, “or if you need to get going, you can go. I’ll let William give me a ride to the farm.”

I eye William harshly before looking at her and respond, “I have no where to go. I just want to have a look for myself at the garage.”

“Well, see you in a few then,” she forces a smile before turning and walking down the stairs.

***BO DUKE*** 

A thick layer of evil-like darkness hangs heavily across the small hospital room to illuminate the bright green lines that slowly spread across the small TV shaped monitors, the lines make a small peak before falling into a straight line and back up to a smaller peak. Several lines peaking and falling flat at separate times, but all describes how weak he is and how close to death he lies. “Cooter,” I whisper to force the pain in my lungs to worsen while I listen into the annoying monitors that slowly beep while the air tube hisses air down into him. “C’mon Cooter,” I raise my voice slightly before I place a gentle hand upon his bruised shoulder as I feel a tear begin to build in my right eye, “you gotta fight this. You gotta be OK.”

Cooter remains silent as his monitors and medical equipment noisily performs their job in their attempt at keeping him alive. For a long moment I watch my badly and violently beaten friend lying bruised upon the old torn hospital bed while taking in all the harsh wounds he had suffered. And why? Who would want to hurt Cooter? Or why would anyone want to hurt Cooter? Cooter would lend a helping hand to a stranger, offering the shirt on his back if need be, and yet someone had intentionally hurt him. Attempted to kill him with little to no evidence to reason.

“Why?” I hear myself ask aloud, my breathing becoming wheezy once again as harsh emotions violently erupt within me at seeing my friend so badly beaten. Feeling the cold moister of tears beginning to run down my face, I slowly hide my face into my hands only for the nightmare of yesterday to begin to evolve in my head. Of Cooter’s snappy response over the radio that had declared something was wrong or troubling him to leaving Luke’s at Rhuebottom’s to go to the garage. A harsh shudder runs down my back as icy chills spread across my numb body as I once again see the vivid image of Cooter’s beaten, bloody, and dead-looking body lying upon the old stretcher runs through my head. Feeling my body tremble with the harsh emotions that continues to build within me, I quickly stand from the old metal chair to walk over to the window that lies a few feet away from Cooter’s bed. Through the glass window, I watch the tears streak my face momentarily as I silently imagine what Cooter would say at seeing me like this. Of telling me not be such a cry baby, at least for him, that he could take care of himself while I have my own self to worry about.

“Bo,” a worried voice breaks the thick silence that is filled with the beeping of the monitors and the hissing of the machines. Surprised, I slowly glance around to find Luke standing at the foot of Cooter’s bed, a couple of feet from me with thick worry and concern fills his normally steady and strong blue eyes. Eyeing him a short moment, I quickly turn around to glance back out at the bright day while wiping my face from the tears that continues to leak from my eyes despite my attempt to hold them back. “Look at me Bo,” his gentle hand lands upon my shoulder for a moment before I abruptly shake it off to force him to breathe in loudly. “We’re all upset about this, Bo. . .we’re all worried. But Cooter’s tough and stubborn, he’s not going to allow whoever did this to him get what they want. Which is apparent to me that for some reason, they want him dead,” he pauses as he places another comforting hand upon my shoulder and I attempt to ignore it, “Knowing that, Cooter’s gonna give it his best, give it a good fight. He’s not going to allow them to get what they so evilly want.”

Fighting back more tears, I silently ask, “Why?”

“I. . .I don’t know,” he slowly responds, “but I can guarantee you, that one way or another, I plan on finding out the who and why.”

“Who?” I ask to slowly turn around to face him, “What about -“

Luke shakes his head at me while shrugging. “It very well could be him and of all that Jesse had said about him from his small visit with him this morning, he has the attitude to do what he is accused of doing,” he pauses for a long moment, eyeing Cooter before looking back at me, “I am not going to be satisfied with his arrest for the beating until I am a hundred percent sure it is him. If not him, that means whoever did this is still out there and planning harm on more of Hazzard. Despite the attitude, the reason and opportunity don’t seem to be there for Garrett. So until I find the reason, I won’t be satisfied with his arrest or punishment.”

Once more I feel my body begin to shake as I glance over Luke’s shoulder and onto Cooter, my thoughts flashing back to finding Cooter covered in his own blood to the story Jesse had told me about my family yesterday. The true story. I had found out the truth years ago from a couple of bullies at school as they harassed me about it, but hearing it from Jesse, made me realize the truth, of which I had for so long attempted to ignore.  If that’s not enough, my supposed half sister awaits to see me at the farm, while the man that is accused of violently beating Cooter, perhaps to his death, is my twin brother. The twin brother that had been made healthy after a couple of months in the hospital, the one that my biological parents had wanted and didn’t abandon. Tears once again begin to streak my face as the emotions that continue to dig deeply within me continues to worsen within me, forcing a numb feeling to surround me.

“I’m . . .we’re all here if you want to talk about it, Bo,” Luke says eyeing me for a long moment before he pulls me into a hug. Letting go, he says, “Let’s go home and get you some rest. Perhaps in the morning we can go out and look for answers.”

“No. . .no,” I shake my head as I step away from him, “I don’t wanna go -“

”I see your answer has changed,” he forces an understanding smile at me, “look, you have to go home sometime and Kristy doesn’t seem like she is going anywhere soon. You’d be better off if you go and say hi and get it all over with,” he approaches me to place another hand upon my shoulder as I once again begin to watch Cooter with hope of some sort of improvement, “I know this is hard, but I’ll be there for you. So will Jesse and Daisy. They all say she is nice and has some really cute kids. . .c’mon. Let’s go and get it over with. Cooter will be fine. He’s tough and stubborn, just as I said.”

After a long moment of watching Cooter and his monitors, I glance up at Luke who motions towards the door. I reluctantly nod before stepping away from Cooter, listening to his monitors and machines as we step out into the brightly lit hallway that blinds my eyes for a long moment. “Bo,” Jesse’s worried voice breaks the silence as we walk into the waiting room and I glance over at the right corner where he arises from his chair, “how you feel?”

I questionably glance at Luke before eyeing Jesse to silently shrug. “I want it all to go away,” I hear myself say aloud as a nurse calls out for another family.

“I know,” Jesse nods as he pulls me into a hug, letting go he says, “I know you do. Let’s get you home and meet Kristy. I think you will like her, she’s nice.”

“So Luke says,” I slowly say as I begin to reluctantly follow them.

*                                  *                                  *                      *

“We’re here,” my uncle’s calm voice reluctantly interrupts the silence that has built within the stuffy cab of his truck, stating the obvious as he pulls to a halt a couple of feet away from an expensive new black truck. The same black and expensive truck that had been parked at the back pumps at Cooter’s when I had walked down to find out about the part, only to find the paramedics to be transferring his bloody body into the ambulance. “You OK, Bo?”

I slowly pull my attention away from the black truck to glance over at Jesse in the driver’s seat and Luke who sits in the middle to find them both to be looking at me with a thick hint of concern in their eyes. “I’m fine,” I stiffly respond as my attention goes upon the truck parked just in front of the porches old and cracked steps that leads to the farm house. The old farm house that I’ve spent my whole life calling home, the old farm house that holds a lot of memories, and the old farm house that has always brought me comfort in time of need; except now. Now the half sister I barely knew I had lies hidden within, with expectations of seeing me, the half sister that had pleaded with Rosco to let go the criminal that had beaten Cooter so badly.  That claimed his innocence.

“C’mon Bo,” I jump slightly as Luke’s hand lands gently on my shoulder to distract my attention away from the truck once more. Looking at him, he offers a sympathetic smile while motioning towards the house while saying, “let’s go in and meet Kristy and her kids. Get it over with. . .we won’t be getting anywhere by hiding from it all in the truck.”

I eye him for a long moment before Jesse opens the driver’s door to slowly get out before eyeing us both momentarily before closing the door behind him. I silently watch as he walks around the front of the truck before he walks over to my door to slowly open it for me while motioning me to come with him. “Luke’s right. Let’s go and meet your sister.”

For a moment I stare stubbornly at him while shaking my head no at me before my attention is drawn to the front door where a young girl in pig tails stands looking out. “Mommy!” she yells before she quickly turns away to disappear back into the darkness of the kitchen.

“That’s Jamie,” Jesse offers me a smile as he steps back in attempt to let me out. His smile slowly drops as I don’t step out of the truck as anger flares my stubbornness against my uncle’s wishes. “C’mon Bo. I know this is hard for you, but we’re both here for you.”

I shrug at him as the screen door squeaks open and I glance up to find the young girl now standing on the porch with petite and slender woman with reddish blond long hair that lies curled over her soft eyes and the sides pulled back in some kind of barrette or something. In her arms is a small baby with thin curly blond hair, his small head lies against her shoulder while his eyes lies half closed and his small thumb stuck in his mouth. Looking at the attractive woman holding the baby, my mind goes back to the garage and pictures the scene at the garage once more, of seeing her and her brother standing to the side with Rosco while the paramedics where dealing with Cooter.

“Bo!” I slowly glance away from the woman on the porch as Daisy runs up to my open door from somewhere behind the truck, worry and concern thickly fills her eyes. “How you feel?”

“Fine,” I quickly respond as I sink farther into my seat as Luke once again lands upon my shoulder. Daisy glances at Luke and then at me again before she looks back through the window up at Kristy before she eyes me with understanding before she slips her hand boldly into mine.

“Oh Bo. That’s Kristy,” she forces a smile as she pulls me out of the truck and I reluctantly begin to follow her, feeling too tired to argue anymore with anyone, “they’ve been anxious on meeting you in person. Especially Jamie here. Huh Jamie?” she asks as we reach the young girl who eyes me with green-blue eyes, light brown freckles is spread across her small nose as she looks up at me with excitement in her eyes. She slowly nods to force her light brown hair to shake with the movement before she quickly throws her arms around me in a hug, her hold tight with excitement. “Kristy,” Daisy continues as she leads me to the woman, “this is Bo. This is Kristy and Shay. Ain’t he cute?”

I force a smile at them before nodding slightly. “Hi,” I slowly say as I feel everyone looking at me in expectation of me to do something or to say something.

“Hi Bo,” Kristy offers a friendly and attractive smile as she leans over to give me a hug to force my anger to rise wildly within me. Standing back up she offers an embarrassed smile. “Sorry. . .I know that’s probably not what you wanted, it’s just that I’ve waited so long to meet you. I’ve always wondered what you would look like. . .you look nothing like Garrett.”

“Good,” I grunt as I eye her before eyeing Daisy and back down at Jamie before I pry myself lose from her grip and quickly open the screen door and step into the dark and quiet farm house. 

***KRISTY DUKE***

For a moment, I am gripped tightly by excitement and surprise as I quietly take in my younger half brother before I find myself hugging him. Surprised at my reaction, I quickly let go to step back and am startled by the intense angered look that spreads across Bo’s handsome and young face. “Sorry,” I quietly say as I notice for the first time the child-like innocence that seems to be captured within his baby blue eyes while I find myself comparing him to Garrett. Looking at him in person, he seems to be taller and leaner than Garrett, skinnier and not as muscular as Garrett. Where Garrett has sandy blond hair that is short and thin, Bo’s is bright blond, thick and wavy, where Garrett’s eyes are cold gray, Bo’s eyes are emotion-filled baby blue eyes. “I know that’s probably not what you wanted,” I hear myself continue babble while I take in the brother I had only heard little of, all of when he had been born. “It’s just that I’ve waited so long to meet you. I’ve always wondered what you would look like,” I continue as the anger and emotions continue to swirl in his eyes as he attempts to ignore me. “You look nothing like Garrett.”

“Good,” he abruptly responds while eyeing me harshly for a brief moment to send chills of hurt pride to ripple through me as he gently pulls Jamie off of him. Mixed emotions run through me as I watch him quickly disappearing into the farm house before my mind falls back onto yesterday, of when I had first seen him. Before I had known who he was. Pain, shock, fear, and anger had all been captured vividly in his expression as he had fought desperately to get to his friend that had been placed on the stretcher only for the paramedics to push him aside.

“And this is Luke,” Daisy places a hand on my shoulder to pull me out of my thoughts as I watch a tall and broad shoulder man climb the steps with a head full of thick dark brown curly hair. He gives me a slight smile and a wave at Jamie before he too disappears into the farm house, the screen door clapping closed behind him. “Probably not exactly the welcoming you had welcomed for,” Daisy shrugs besides me as Jesse approaches us, “but it was better than what I had expected.”

“Better?” I question, eyeing them both as Jamie quickly runs to me to give me a tight hug.

“Bo doesn’t do new situations very well and all that had happened yesterday,” Jesse pauses as he looks into the dark door way, “doesn’t help very much. Bo is taking it all very hard right now. . .the whole thing with Cooter and the true story of how of his parents, and to add it all together, it is Garrett that is suspected of doing the beating. Not to say I think he did it, but to him, that’s what it looks like. He’s still in shock with it all.”

I nod slightly in attempt to understand Bo’s anger and resentment towards us as my thoughts are interrupted by Jamie clinging to me. “Mommy,” she whines looking up at me, “why doesn’t Uncle Bo like us?”

“Oooh sweetie,” Daisy kneels down to her to motion her towards her. Jamie eyes me momentarily before she runs into Daisy’s arms, “he’ll like you. Who couldn’t like you? I can’t think of anyone. . . especially him. He’s just going through a hard time right now. . .he’s hurting, inside.” She points at Jamie’s chest to show her, “He’s going through a lot and when he gets through it all, he’ll more than like you. He’ll love you. You just have to give him time to get use to the idea that he has a niece and a sister. . .just give him some time.”

“Really?” she questions and Daisy nods before giving her another long hug.

“Yeah really,” Daisy smiles at her, “once he adjusts to the fact and idea of having you around and gets to know what a great kid you are, he’ll have to love you.”

I smile down at them as Daisy begins to tickle Jamie to have Jamie begin squirming and laughing on the front porch for a long moment before she escapes to stand by my side once again. Sighing heavily, I hug her tightly against me as my mind falls upon our current situation. From Garrett’s escape from the law only the other night to moving to the small town I had always dreamt of living in, and to Garrett’s arrest by the local law. Arrested not for vandalism or theft of which he had openly admitted doing in Knoxville, but of brutally beating the local mechanic that he had found lying on the floor in his own pool of thick blood. Looking around the open farmland that surrounds me, my mind wanders desperately for a way to pull my brother out of the trouble he has once again found himself in. This time not by his own doing, but by circumstances of walking in at the wrong time.