OK, folks. This is sorta a crossover fic between my other fic "So Much for My Happy Ending?" (Not the alternate ending. But, you can read it, if you like!) But, you can certainly read this without reading the other fic and not be confused. The characters in the other fic only briefly flit in and out, so I don't exactly consider it too much of a crossover. Hence, the reason it is not in the crossover section. Let me know if you disagree once this gets going. Once you see the main character's last name, if you're any type of 'MASH' fan, you'll know who she belongs to. Anywho . . . thanks for reading!
Oh yeah. I almost forgot. I own no rights to any of the Dukes of Hazzard characters (except for Rebecca. She's mine.). If I did own the rights, I sure wouldn't be writing fan fiction! - tonygirl
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"I hate spiders!"
Rebecca swiped at the flimsy web with the edge of a yellowed newspaper, the offending insect creeping away before she could squash it. She figured it was waiting for an opportune moment to jump out at her again. The thought of it made her shiver.
"You alright?" A voice called from the first floor, his wrinkled face obscuring the only light she had in the storage cellar.
"Yeah, Mr. Buxby, I'm fine. Just plain peachy."
"Deadline's at 4. See that you have that piece ready by then."
Rebecca made a face and mimicked her editor's words under her breath. Grabbing the few crumbling papers she had found with information on the proposed highway through Hazzard County, she scrambled up the rickety stairs as fast as she could manage. Straight back into the stuffy office.
The only good thing about the spider-infested cellar was it was cool.
This Georgia heat is going to kill me. If the mosquitoes don't carry me off first.
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she flopped the papers on her desk with a dusty thump. The phone rang shrilly, and she was glad to hear that Buxby answered it after one ring. Since they were the only two employees of The Hazzard Gazette, Rebecca often found herself answering phones and typing letters, tasks that would normally be delegated to a receptionist.
But, Hazzard was no normal town, this she had already figured out. And Jefferson Davis Hogg, too cheap to hire any extra help for the paper he owned, had declared that Rebecca was a woman, so she could answer the phones, as well as complete her other duties as cub reporter for his paper.
She actually couldn't find any business in town that J.D. Hogg didn't have his paunchy fingers wrapped around, anyway, legal or not. Including this highway that was to go straight through the orphan's home outside of town, leaving 15 children without anywhere to go.
Her father always told her to stand up for those who couldn't stand up for themselves. And 15 parentless children seemed about as helpless as it gets
Determined, Rebecca pulled out her notes and started thumbing through the papers, the small oscillating fan on her desk kicking up dust each time it blew warm air over them.
She jumped when Buxby slammed down the phone.
"Rebecca! Get over here!"
Dusty and tired, Rebecca could help but snap back. "I'm just right here, not halfway across the county! You don't have to yell!"
She could have kicked herself, but her temper always got her into trouble. She had managed to control it, until now, at least.
Buxby just stared for a moment, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "Wondered if you had any spunk in you, girl. Now, get over to the county jail on the double. They've nabbed the guys who robbed the jewelry store last night."
Finally! A real story!
Grateful to escape the stuffy office, Rebecca grabbed a notepad and a pencil and scurried down the block to the county jail. She had only been there once, the day she arrived in Hazzard, summoned there by the man who hired her from the many applicants he claimed to have received for the job.
Truthfully, she was the only applicant.
Hazzard County wasn't exactly the hub of the world.
Just graduating from Boston College with an English degree, she had decided teaching was not for her and instead applied for any writing positions that she could find. After most of them turned her down because of lack of experience, she was surprised when she received a hearty reply from the owner of The Hazzard Gazette, namely Boss Hogg.
Her father was appalled at her determination to live in the 'squalid South', as he so eloquently put it. She didn't even have to work!
"But, dear, they don't even have a theatre! You love the theatre!" He tried to convince her to stay, but failed.
Her mother just smiled and winked at her, always there to even out her father's superior attitude.
Enos Strate looked up from what she knew was a comic book when she walked in the door.
"Hey, Rebecca!" He fumbled to hide his comic book and stand up without knocking anything over. "Didn't expect to see you over here. Today, I mean."
Enos had been recruited the first day she was here to help her move her things into the little cottage she was renting in town, also owned by J.D. Hogg. His childlike honesty was refreshing, and she often found herself in the deputy's company. They frequently had lunch together at one of the nearby cafes when he wasn't on patrol.
"Mr. Buxby got a call that the Sheriff caught whoever robbed the jewelry store and wanted me to check it out."
Enos's face fell. "I don't know . . ."
She loved an argument. "Oh, c'mon! Don't you want the sheriff to have some good publicity?" For once.
Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane was notorious for being able to bumble even the simplest tasks. Something else Rebecca had figured out almost immediately upon arrival in this friendly, yet strange, town.
Something snuffled at her leg, and thinking of spiders, she almost jumped out of her skin. Instead she looked down at a baggy-skinned basset hound.
"Hey, Flash, girl. Holdin' down the fort?" Absently, Rebecca reached down and scratched the dog's ears, still trying to get Enos to agree to let her see the perpetrators.
Obviously struggling with his decision, Enos looked perplexed. "If the sheriff finds out . . ."
Rebecca waved her hand. "You know that Sheriff Coltrane was probably the one who called Buxby! What would it hurt if I asked them a few questions?"
"I just don't think they did it!" Enos finally spit out.
"If you don't think they did it, then why does the sheriff think they did?" She could tell the deputy was troubled by the situation. And, it was almost like pulling teeth to get the information she wanted out of him.
"Wweelll – hefoundthejewelsintheircarbutIstilldon'tthinktheydidit."
Rebecca had to concentrate on what he just said. "Well, who would put them in their car, then?"
Enos shrugged. "I dunno. But, it's just not like Bo and Luke to do something like that." He leaned in closer. "I think it's a trap."
"What kind of trap?" While not trained in print journalism, she was generally nosy enough to satisfy her new editor. And a trap seemed unlikely in this place, especially to Rebecca.
Enos grabbed a flyer of his desk. "We got these wanted flyers in the mail today, and I think these guys are somewhere nearby, and they put the jewels in the General at some point."
Rebecca studied the grainy black-and-white photos, trying to figure out what or who "the General" was without looking like an idiot. One of the perpetrators was a short, balding man while the other was rather large and scary looking. Wanted for jewelry theft in Capital City jumped out at her.
"Not a bad presumption, Enos. What do the guys you have in the jail cell say?"
"That we've been proven guilty before we've even had our right to a trial."
Rebecca raised an eyebrow at the rather sullen reply coming from the holding cell around the corner. She glanced at Enos.
He let out a large breath. "Oh, go ahead. Just don't let Boss or the Sheriff know I let you." He led her around the corner and up a couple of stairs. Stepping out of her line of vision, he said, "Boys, I want you to meet Miss Rebecca Winchester. She's the new girl at the paper I've been tellin' you about."
Rebecca didn't know what exactly she was expecting – perhaps a couple of rough-looking characters covered with tattoos and leather. Or maybe some street-weary vagabonds that were so common on the streets of Boston.
Nothing prepared her for the men the sheriff had deemed criminals. Two pairs of blue eyes studied her just as she was studying them. More like she was admiring them, to be exact. They both had the same rugged good looks gained from physical labor, probably on a farm. However, while one of them had a playful glint in his eyes, the other seemed to watch her with careless indifference, his own blue eyes wary.
But, neither one of them really looked like criminals.
"Well, well. We've heard a lot about you, Miss Winchester. But, we didn't expect you to be . . . so, well, danged pretty. The last reporter at the paper was old enough to be my grandmother. I'm Bo Duke."
Rebecca found herself blushing, and she shook his hand he offered through the iron bars.
"Please. It's just Rebecca. It's a pleasure to meet you, as well."
Bo grinned at her, his eyes twinkling merrily, and she couldn't help but grin back. "You're not from around here, are you? Your accent . . ."
"Is decidedly Yankee. I know. I'm from Boston."
"Massachusetts?"
She got that a lot down here. "No. Mars."
Bo laughed, not at all stung by her comment. "Guess I deserved that one."
Luke rolled his eyes heavenward at his cousin's antics. Normally, Bo's obvious flirtation with the opposite sex rarely bothered him, but today it did. "Only you would try to court a woman from a jail cell."
Bo winked at Rebecca. "Ignore him. My cousin has issues with being behind bars for a crime he didn't comment." He motioned toward his cousin. "C'mon, Luke, don't you have something nice to say to this ray of sunshine here?"
Luke studied her through the bars as she stared back at him with those whiskey-colored eyes of hers. Eyes that caught him off guard the moment she stepped around the corner. While she watched him, she brushed a strand of dark hair off her cheek with a well-manicured nail. Probably never done a day's honest work in her life. While not drop-dead gorgeous, she actually was quite pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way. And she had great legs. "Hi," he mumbled.
Rebecca nodded once in response, mentally kicking herself for being so aloof. But, it seems he could have been a little more friendly himself.
Bo turned around. "I know that's not the best you can do."
Luke rolled his eyes. "We've got bigger problems on our hands, remember? While we're stuck here," he gestured around the jail, "the real criminals are getting away out there."
Rebecca wrapped her hands around the bars and peered at Bo's sullen cousin, a bought of boldness seizing her. "And what would you do if you weren't stuck in here?" she whispered, out of Enos's hearing.
He stepped as close to her as the cell door would allow, resisting the instinct to wrap his hands around hers. Instead, he gripped the bars just above her hands. Figuring she was easily intimidated, he was surprised when her gaze never wavered.
"We would catch them ourselves."
"Really? Seems a little . . . overconfident. Don't you think?"
Luke shrugged. "It's either that or stay in this cell forever." He glanced up at Enos, who was watching the entire exchange pensively and trying not to eavesdrop. "I'm sure Boss and Rosco would love that."
His gaze returned to hers, and her legs almost turned to jelly as his blue eyes stared into her own. She hadn't noticed it at first glance, but his eyes had small flecks of gold in them. Instead of succumbing to her first instinct of swooning – must be this damn Georgia heat! – she squared her shoulders and raised her chin a notch, meeting his gaze evenly.
"You don't think we can find them?" he whispered. Her perfume – something exotic, like coconut - floated around him, making him a little dizzy.
She leaned in closer, surprised by her own brazen attitude. "Not behind bars, you won't."
He lowered his voice another notch. "Then help get us out of here. The keys are hanging in the corner."
She resisted the urge to glance over at the keys on a rusty nail. The idea of helping someone she had just met escape from a jail cell in a town she had only lived in for two weeks almost made her laugh aloud. But, this was a strange place, indeed.
"What? Are you crazy?"
"No. Just desperate."
Rebecca crossed her arms protectively in front of her. "Well, I'm not going to rot in jail with you just to see you escape back to whatever swamp you came from."
"Boy, you must have cornered the market on conceit." He enjoyed the flare of indignation in her eyes.
"No, just slightly more level-headed," she said in a clipped voice.
Enos cleared his throat nervously, hoping to get their attention. Bo shook his head at the deputy, clearly enjoying the scene in front of them.
Luke and Rebecca didn't even notice the exchange. "Well, if you won't get me those keys, then maybe you can at least take out that notepad of yours and start taking notes. That is your job, isn't it? To report the truth? Or is it just to stand here and argue?"
Rebecca knew she was flushed to the roots of her hair at his comment, infuriated at his attitude. Snatching the notepad out of the back pocket of her denim skirt, she snapped open the cover and stepped back.
"I'm sure whatever it is, I will have to make it sound more presentable for the paper."
Luke squared his jaw, knowing he deserved her anger. Uncle Jesse would kill him if he ever found out how disrespectful he'd been, but she somehow knew how to push all his buttons.
But, he had an idea.
Reaching through the bars, he snatched the paper out of her hands.
"Hey!" Rebecca reached for it, but missed. She narrowed her eyes. "Give that back!"
"I have a better idea. Why don't I write it down myself, so I can be sure you'll get it right?"
"Oh, so you can write, huh?"
Luke glanced up at her as he scribbled furiously, Bo watching him curiously. "Just because we're from the south, doesn't mean we're stupid."
"And just because I'm female doesn't mean you can pick on me." She reached between the bars and snatched at the paper as he finished writing. Their fingers briefly touched, and she froze, shocked at the sensation that traveled throughout her entire body.
He smiled at her lazily before depositing the notepad into her hand.
Embarrassed at her reaction and even more embarrassed that he seemed to notice, Rebecca stepped back from the bars, hoping to regain her composure with distance. "Good luck with your . . . endeavors, gentlemen," she heard herself say, hoping she could muster enough sense to walk out the door without falling. Hell, she had already made a total ass of herself by almost fainting at some country boy's touch! That's just what she needed now, to fall flat on her face!
She brushed past Enos, almost forgetting he was there. "Oh . . . thanks."
"Yeah, sure." Enos said, taking off his hat and scratching his head as he watched her stalk from the courthouse. He looked back at Luke, acted like he was going to say something, but changed his mind. Shaking his head, he returned to his desk and his comic book.
Bo watched his cousin incredulously. "Luke, are you out of your mind? You were downright mean to that girl! What's gotten into you?"
Luke ran a hand through his hair and walked to the back of the small cell. From the ground-level window, he glimpsed her stalking down the nearby sidewalk, obviously angry, her long brown hair streaming behind her. He studied her retreating figure, liking what he saw, then cursing at the avenue his thoughts were taking.
"It didn't bother you that she treated us like we weren't good enough to shine her shoes?"
"Well, she didn't act that way until you insulted her first!" Bo pointed out. "I'd of treated you that way, too, if you said some of the things to me that you said to her!"
"I hope she's not mad enough to follow my instructions."
"Huh?"
He told his cousin what he wrote.
Bo grinned. "I bet you a beer at the Boar's Nest she throws it in the trash."
Luke saw the look in her eyes when their hands touched. He didn't think so. "It's a bet."