Chapter Eight – Overturned Stones and Rattlesnakes
Georgia Bill of Rights Paragraph 13: No inhabitant of this State shall be molested in person or property, or prohibited from holding any public office, or trust, on account of his religious opinions; but the right of liberty of conscience shall not be so construed as to excuse acts of licentiousness, or justify practices inconsistent with the peace and safety of the State.
It smelled like a wet dog, and as far as he knew, Flash wasn't even in the building. Then again, she probably was; Hazzard had to be the only county whose law enforcement postponed criminal investigations due to rain, as if they were nothing more important than baseball games. As if there weren't prisoners that had been taken in this little game, and held in dank basements away from their families.
It was a stupid realization to come to, locked away, alone in a decrepit cell, about how he'd never loved Miranda. He cared about her plenty, like he cared about any girl he'd ever dated. He wished her well and hoped she was safe somewhere. He might even hope she was happy, if only she'd show up long enough to get him out of this jam. But he didn't love her.
Oh, he'd wanted to love her, had worked hard at it and even convinced himself he'd succeeded, or gotten close enough that the rest would come in time. Because on those moonshine making nights, when Jesse would dig out the medicinal mason jar to stave off the chill, his uncle would talk about love. Somewhere in those years when Luke was on the other side of the world and Jesse reckoned it was time Bo learned the family trade, the old man would get lost in rambling tales about his years with Lavinia. To hear his uncle tell it, those years hadn't all been smooth, some of them had burned on the way down and left lumps in his throat that still had to get swallowed from time to time. But the kind of love they shared in those later days wasn't that first thing they'd felt, hiding, courting behind the shaded veil of Spanish moss, in spring days made of picnic baskets and sweet kisses.
Jesse swore that love was constructed out of staying together through those years of locust-decimated crops and wildfires threatening everything they owned. It was in spelling each other through long nights of comforting miserable children whose mamas and daddies had left them behind, and changing diapers of babies they'd never given birth to. Don't, he'd warned the teenaged Bo, whose libido was growing almost as fast as his legs were, go thinking you know what love is until you survive your first tragedy.
And right here, sitting on the creaking old cot with dirty and worn sheets, looking out at the gray skies through a window in the next cell over, Bo realized it. This was his and Miranda's first tragedy, and their relationship wouldn't survive it. It wasn't love.
Love was the thing that sent his family scrambling to the corners of the county trying to get him released from jail. Couldn't have been anything less than love that made Jesse fork over money (but how much? No one would tell him) to a lawyer instead of relying on his own skills in representing Bo. And, he kept telling himself – enough times so that he would believe it – it must have been love that kept Luke away from him. Likely had him combing the countryside looking for Miranda or Rainbow or Henry, or any clue that would lead him to figuring out how to prove Bo's innocence.
And, it was love that kept nattering in the back of his brain about how Luke was skirting the dangerous edges of something bigger than their usual fare of Boss schemes and fumbling out-of-towners. Whoever was behind this wasn't afraid of blood, and that made them a whole different breed of dangerous. And sure, Luke had fought in a war, but he hadn't been out in that jungle alone. Here in Hazzard, where the sheriff was made of sugar and wouldn't even go out into the rain for fear of melting down into a sticky mess, Luke was out there turning over rocks just to see what would crawl out from underneath.
Love was what made his heart pound and his throat hurt at the thought of what could happen if there turned out to be a rattlesnake under one of those stones Luke looked under.
Georgia Bill of Rights, Paragraph 14: No money shall ever be taken from the public Treasury, directly or indirectly, in aid of any church, sect, or denomination of religionists, or of any sectarian institution.
All the mercies in his life were small just now, breadcrumbs to a starving man, but he was in no position to complain. He wasn't Job; though he had lost much of his family, he wasn't bereft. He had no boils, no real illness to speak of, just that ongoing pain in his toe. It was neither the Lord nor Satan that was putting him through these trials, it was just his nephews testing his patience like they always had.
Luke, at least, fell into genuine sleep after that one visit to consciousness. He'd been fitful before that, almost like he was fighting against the medication that was meant to make him sleep. It was a waste of money to doctor a boy that would use every bit of his energy to undo the intended positive effects of medicine. His supposedly smart one, who was only intelligent enough to be crafty. Would have helped if Luke would use his intellect toward better outcomes than just sneaking out of his room when a man decided to rest his old bones in the living room chair instead of that stiff, wooden one Daisy'd dragged into the boys' bedroom. A cup of coffee, a soft seat, and maybe he'd thought that turning off the bedside light would help Luke settle down, but of course not. At least the drugs coursing through his system had slowed his movements, made him clumsy enough that he startled Jesse up from where he'd been resting his eyes. Not fast enough; by the time he got to Luke, the fool was already out in the hallway. Making excuses about how he needed to use the bathroom, but the man who raised him knew better, recognized that while Luke's first destination might have been down the hall, the boy wouldn't rest until he was out of the house.
Then again, that little night stumble seemed to settle Luke's muscles, if not his brain, so that when he got back to bed he slept instead of merely being unconscious. He was still dead to the world come sunrise, when Jesse had left Daisy in charge of watching him. Still hadn't stirred after chore time, and it seemed like maybe the fool had finally figured out that he needed rest.
"If he ain't up on his own by ten," was the beginning of the instructions he gave Daisy. "You get him up and bring him to town. We'll all go in to see Bo at eleven." No more of that one-by-one visitation that broke Bo's heart and gave Luke fool notions that it was a good idea to slip off by himself without letting anyone know where he'd gone. "And don't let him go nowheres else."
Maybe it wasn't fair to leave Daisy in charge of him. She was going to have a struggle on her hands, but it would be no worse a struggle than Jesse himself would have had. Besides, Luke would be more likely mind to his mothering cousin than his elderly uncle anyway. Boy had no respect for authority (which was fine when that authority was Boss Hogg, but problematic when it was anyone else) but he loved both of his cousins. A few tears from Daisy and Luke would manage to get himself dressed in his Sunday best and be on his top behavior to boot.
Besides, Jesse had overwhelming considerations that couldn't be mitigated by small mercies. Like paying the legal fees for the defense of his youngest charge with only half a harvested crop and no negotiated buyer for it, and then there was a mortgage payment that was due by three o'clock on the fifteenth regardless of crops or missing girls. Could be that this was one of J.D.'s more elaborate schemes, just another attempt to get the Dukes out of Hazzard. Could have been that simple, but Jesse couldn't take that chance, not with Rosco acting genuinely scared. It was one thing for Enos to walk the countryside in tiny steps with giant eyes, peering around each corner like he expected to find a gun toting man or a beautiful girl on the other side. Didn't matter to Enos, he was scared of both. But Rosco – when he was part of a plot, he strutted and preened and talked gibberish. When he was frightened, he got quiet and serious. At no time had Rosco claimed that investigating the Taylor girl's disappearance would have killed ten ordinary sheriffs. That wasn't a good sign, it meant Rosco really was serious this time.
And it was one thing to give over a few chickens to the Doc. That-there was a man who understood that eating was more important than having a house with more rooms than people, or a fancy gold chain around his neck. These two lawyers, they weren't Hazzard men. Might be the best thing for Bo that they weren't, but Jesse was going to have to figure out a way to convince them that the pittance of savings left over from the boys' NASCAR days, plus half a crop of corn, was a reasonable reward for Bo's freedom.
Georgia Bill of Rights, Paragraph 15: No law shall ever be passed to curtail, or restrain the liberty of speech, or of the press; any person may speak, write and publish his sentiments, on all subjects, being responsible for the abuse of that liberty.
For all the scars Luke and Bo must bear on their hind ends (at least to hear them tell it—Jesse did use a whip, but it was hard to imagine him ever doing serious harm to any of the children he'd raised and loved despite the fact that they weren't technically his), Daisy had never received anything more harsh than a stern look and a verbal reprimand. But she might just be fixing to get her first-ever whipping right now.
"No," she said, and it was a formality, but Luke didn't know that yet. Might just go to prove that he really wasn't fit for what he was proposing. "Luke! Bo needs to see you today." Even if Uncle Jesse hadn't reinforced that with her, she knew it to be true. Bo was – for such a big guy, he seemed to be diminishing in the jail, his volume getting ever quieter each day, and soon enough the life of the Dukes' party was likely to go silent.
Luke's head was shaking, his face distorting into that look he used to save for Rosco (and Bo) but had started to unleash on everyone lately – the one that called her an idiot even if his mouth was closed tight against uttering a sound. Hands on his hips until he pushed them off, and he was being patient. He could storm past her now (probably would in a minute), just walk away from the whole argument. He was upright and moving around just fine, if a little pale and clammy. Voice raw, but no coughing, and as usual, pneumonia was an empty threat. The rain was gone; Luke was fully dressed and halfway clean and the only thing between him and where he wanted to be was Daisy, doing her damnedest to speak in the voice of Jesse. And failing.
"I'm coming with you, then," she threatened. "You can't go out there alone again! Didn't none of us know where you were, and it's just lucky that Cooter came along— Luke." She was going to lose, had been on the way to losing from the time her cousin woke up.
Luke had finally figured it out, too, that she was going to lose. He shook his head and dropped his hands down to his sides. It was its own kind surrender, an invitation that no one outside the family would recognize. If Daisy wanted to put her arms around him now, Luke would hug back. For all that he'd grown up a Duke, with Bo pretty much attached to his hip, Luke had never much figured out affection. But he'd take it when it was offered.
So she swatted him, hugged him, kissed his cheek and rested her head on his chest.
"I'll be fine," he told her and she didn't believe it for a second. "Besides, Bo needs you." She started to back out of his arms, to remind him that Bo needed both of them, but Luke kept her close. "I need you," he admitted, and it was no wonder he didn't let her get any distance away where she might have been able to see his face when he said that. "To go and see Bo. And tell him it'll be all right."
"And get whupped by Uncle Jesse," she reminded him.
Luke laughed, but it wasn't funny. Not really. "He won't whup you, girl." And Luke still hadn't let her go, must have something else to get off his chest. She waited silently, smelling the same laundry detergent she'd used all her life. Clean shirt on Luke's back, and she didn't mind if it came back to her dirty or torn, so long as Luke stayed in one piece. Of course, she had no intentions of telling him that. "Tell Bo I—tell him I'll see him soon. And that I, I'll get him out. And I—" love him, but Luke didn't quite have those words in his vocabulary, so—
"I'll tell him. But," she insisted, because it was important. It was the kind of thing Luke would pooh-pooh, but that was only because he was a fool. "You promise me you won't go getting yourself hurt no more. If you see anything – anything at all that looks like trouble – you'll get on the C.B. and call for help. You know that me, Uncle Jesse and Cooter will all be there quicker'n two shakes of a lamb's tail."
Finally Luke kissed her cheek, then let her go and headed for the door to face whatever danger was out there. Meanwhile Daisy steeled herself to face her own demons, in the form of one steaming mad uncle. She was halfway to town before she realized that Luke had listened to her talk, but he'd never agreed to the promise.
