I'm back... okay, so it turns out that I did have one more biggie left in me, so here it comes.

This one is sort of a leaf out of my own book, which you'll understand as it progresses. Not to worry, it's not a romance, and I am not setting myself up with one of the boys. Sigh.

As always, I don't own them, though I do like them a lot. I also don't earn anything by borrowing them. If I did, I sure wouldn't be going to work tomorrow!

Cheers!

Chapter 1 - Getting Each Other Into and Out of Trouble

Early spring 1980

He'd been out here too long. It wasn't the darkness that alerted Bo Duke to that fact, falling as subtly and silently as it did, while he sat on this boulder, legs going slowly numb. The shimmering puddle of a pond before him, hidden in a wooded section of the Duke property, had been his refuge ever since he and his cousin Luke had created it as kids by damming up the chilly creek.

He realized now that their Uncle Jesse had been sweetly indulgent of his two boys when they'd come home, sopping wet and tracking mud, bragging about what they'd done. After a quick change of clothes, the boys had taken their guardian back out there to see their masterpiece, and instead of showing annoyance that they'd diverted the only trickle of water on the farm, he'd made some suggestions to improve the construction, plus allow for better runoff. Then he'd proudly told his boys that they could not have picked a better spot for their little project; there was a natural basin in which the water could gather, and it was an area that was well shaded, with a pretty view. Luke had pretended that he'd known about the physics of why the pond should be there, but in reality, both he and Bo knew that it was the boulder that sat beside the now stilled waters that had been the main reason for them choosing this location. It was a natural diving board.

And, as he had done countless times before, Bo spent this evening's last hours sitting on that very stone.

Orange blazed to purple before muting to gray and even black, but Bo wasn't terribly aware of the sky. Even the annoying mosquitoes that were making a meal of him didn't attract too much of his attention. Years of spending long days working in the fields had taught him to ignore minor discomforts. No, it was the song of spring peepers that caught his interest, those tiniest of frogs, the first of which were just emerging, thanks to the same early warm spell that had brought out the bugs. None of them were likely to survive the cold that would undoubtedly return by the end of the week, but for now, they were singing their little hearts out, and bringing Bo back to a happier time.

One night during the first spring after they'd created this little haven, Bo and Luke had stayed out longer than they meant to, playing in the ravine at the far edge of the farm, too far away to hear their uncle calling them in out of the night. When Luke had realized their mistake, the two young boys had sprinted towards home, but stopped when they heard what sounded like a million baby chicks, peeping in the waters of their little swimming hole. Intrigued, they'd promised each other that after Uncle Jesse was through teaching them the lesson that they knew was coming, they would ask about this amazing sound.

Two nights later, Bo and Luke had secured permission to camp out on that very section of the family property. Their innocent faces belied their mischievous plans, for they'd learned that the peeping sound came not from birds, but from little frogs. And they had a very good use for such creatures.

Peepers are hard to catch, and two sleepless boys spent much of the night splashing around, collecting as many as they could. The darkness had cooled the air and water both, and it took quite a bit of dedication to force themselves to complete the task at hand. Eventually they were satisfied, and stripping off their wet clothing, they'd shivered their way into matching sleeping bags, grinning at their successes.

At sunrise, Bo had collected their watery jars of booty, checking to make sure the lids were tightly screwed before rolling them up into the sleeping bags, even as Luke struck the tent. Then, smiling like the little devils that they were, they'd run home for breakfast, stashing their camping gear in their bedroom. Morning chores turned to lunch and afternoon chores, then finally dinner. Before they knew it, the sky had grown dark again.

With a slight smile, Luke stretched and said, "Well, I'm gonna get some shuteye. Couldn't hardly sleep last night, what with Bo there bein' so scared of the dark."

"Nuh-uh, was not," Bo responded, but then he caught sight of the tiny grin on Luke's face, and his memory came back. This was not a time to fight with his cousin. "I'm tired, too, though. Let's go to bed," he added, faking a yawn and grabbing Luke's arm; pulling him towards the stairs, quick, before a giggle could escape his lips.

Once they made their way to their shared bedroom, the boys dug out the jars of now rather smelly pond water and frogs from under their beds and took them across the hall to Daisy's room. Slimy hands scooped out tiny peepers and scattered them about the floor. Then the giggling boys went back to their own bedroom and turned out the light, peeking out the cracked door and waiting to hear screams when their female cousin came up for bed.

Frogs are not obedient creatures, and they did not wait silently for their fairy princess to come and kiss them into princes; they began calling for her. Loudly. The boys looked at one another in half amusement, half horror. And they sprung into their beds and began to snore exaggeratedly. When their cousin and uncle thumped their way up the stairs, the boys stiffened in anticipation. What they heard, rather than the screams they'd been imagining for the last 24 hours, was their uncle bellowing, "What in tarnation!" Then the only surviving female Duke spoke.

"Aw, Uncle Jesse, they're so cute. Can I keep them?"

The boys spent another long night collecting frogs, this time out of Daisy's room, while their female cousin slept soundly in their room, and their uncle stood guard over them. Handing Luke a flashlight, the aging man sent his boys back out to the pond that very night. They didn't speak as they dumped the noisy creatures back into their natural habitat. Trudging home, the boys were not surprised to see their uncle waiting for them. After a sound thrashing, Bo and Luke were sent to share Daisy's bed, an uncomfortable prospect for two boys with sore behinds.

And, somewhere around two in the morning, Bo began to giggle. Despite himself, Luke quietly joined in before shushing him. They didn't need another round with their cantankerous uncle.

One corner of Bo's lips turned up, smiling wryly at the memory. Many an evening between that childhood prank and today, he'd spent out here, usually with his cousin, but sometimes by himself, thinking. And more than once, Luke had found him here, mooning over a girl, or sulking over harsh words spoken by people that really weren't all that important to him, not when he really thought about it. Always, his older cousin had half-consoled and half-cajoled until Bo was ready to come home. And if they'd been late for dinner, the other boy would somehow protect him from Jesse's temper, as well.

But Luke wouldn't come for him tonight. Which was most of why he was here in the first place. Limping slightly, thanks to the pins and needles in his right leg, Bo made his way towards the dim glow of the farmhouse that he and Luke had grown up in. He hadn't checked his pocket watch, and there wasn't enough light to see the time on it anyway, but he knew he was very late. As he opened the screen door at the front of the old farmhouse, he steeled himself for his uncle's reaction to that fact.

"Bo, is that you?" The words came wafting from the living room, where Jesse sat in his recliner, half hidden by the day's paper. Of course, his youngest nephew knew he couldn't possibly be reading it; the old man always finished his newspaper by the late morning. No, most likely his uncle was lying in wait, ready to make it clear that Bo had transgressed, once again.

"Yes, sir," Bo answered automatically. It wasn't like he could fool his uncle into believing he was anyone else, anyway, and if he did, he'd wind up facing the business end of old Jesse's rifle.

"Your dinner's in the fridge. Stick it in the oven for a few minutes, though. It's probably pretty cold by now."

"Yes, sir," Bo answered, surprised, but trying not to show it. Doing as Jesse suggested, Bo turned on the oven and placed the dinner plate his uncle had heaped high with food for him inside, before sitting at the table, chin resting on his hands. In a moment, lost in his thoughts, he was startled to feel gentle, calloused, age worn hands on his shoulders.

"Missing him, huh?" This was old, familiar territory that Bo just didn't want to go over, not even one more time. But his uncle was being far kinder than he needed to be, and sassing the old man would get Bo nowhere pleasant.

"I suppose," the blonde answered.

"Me, too," the old man admitted, giving Bo's shoulders one more pat. "Now, son, I'm going off to bed. I reckon you should eat and do the same. There's a lot of chores that didn't get done this evening, 'cause you was out fretting. We'll want to get an early start on them in the morning. Good night."

The youngest of the Duke cousins shook his head as he stood to rescue his dinner from the oven. He would have preferred the lecture, even the whippings of his youth, to the gentle guilt his uncle had just left him with. But Jesse was right. There was work to be done quite early the next day, so he ate quickly, and headed off to the room that he and Luke had always shared. Without his oldest cousin to wake him in the morning, he'd have to get up on his own, so he'd better get himself to sleep as soon as possible.

The mind is not always obedient, often refusing direct orders to quiet down. Insomnia was more Luke's thing than Bo's, but on this night, the youngest cousin suffered the malady of the oldest.

There were two of them, that was the point. Uncle Jesse would remind him that there were actually four, and that was undeniable; the family also included his uncle and his female cousin, both of whom he loved dearly. But forever, it seemed, the two boys of the household had been BoandLuke, almost referred to by the one name and always in one breath. Oh, they certainly had their own personalities, and their uncle would be sure to tell him that they hadn't always agreed on everything. In fact, there had been some moments that Bo thought they might never recover from, though they'd always found their way back to the intuitive closeness that they shared. Deep in his heart Bo knew that just about everything important in his life, he'd learned from Luke. To his mind, the learning wasn't done, and it had become more of an equal exchange of knowledge, though Luke would only admit to that on the rarest of occasions.

And there were two of them, getting each other into and out of trouble. They took secret pride in that part.

But now Luke was gone. His youngest cousin didn't know what to make of that, really. It wasn't like Luke had walked away casually, he'd been sent. But they'd always expected him to come back.

I'm sorry. The words still stung Bo as he remembered them. I'll send you money as I earn it, but I don't expect I'll be coming home. Flipping on the light between the two beds, the blonde pulled the letter he'd already committed to memory from the drawer of the night stand. It was written to Bo alone, though he'd shown it to their uncle, as Luke must have known he would. I love you, it closed, and I hope you'll forgive me some day.

"Forgive you for what, Lukas?" Bo said, turning off the light switch, and hardly realizing he'd spoken aloud. "Give me half a chance, buddy, and you know I will."