A/N: Thank you over and over for continuing to R&R. And thanks to Bono for the chapter title. This is a track from "The Joshua Tree" album by U2.

Disclaimer: I do not own or operate "The Dukes of Hazzard."


Chapter 12: Running to Stand Still

The Decatur newspaper office was downtown and Rose went right in, just speaking to the receptionist. Rachel's desk was near the door.

"What's going on?" Rose asked her cousin.

Rachel turned with a start. "Hey! Wow. Some night you had. I talked to Aunt Shirley this morning. They were worried to death about you yesterday. I thought Uncle Bill was going to call out the National Guard."

"That would have been nice," Rose replied. "Is Jean around this morning?"

"Right here, Rosie. I hear things have been exciting in that boring little place." Jean Page was a petite redhead whose dry sense of humor made her a favorite everywhere she worked. She and Rose had worked together in Atlanta.

"More excitement than I want, let me tell you," Rose answered. "Some good, some not so good."

"What's the good?" Rachel asked. "I mean other than Luke being home. Aunt Shirley said he and Bo were responsible for getting you here safe last night."

"Yeah, they were. And the good is that my decades-long campaign for Luke's heart has ended in a resounding victory." Rose grinned wickedly.

Rachel clapped her hands in glee. "Are you serious? Really? No way!"

"Way. I've had a fiance for a whole week now."

"And he just got home last Saturday. I guess he's the fast worker, since you've been on this hunt for years."

Jean was listening with puzzlement, and then her confusion cleared. "Oh yeah! That guy! The one you told me about! Where is he?"

Rose grinned. "Dark hair. In the lobby."

Jean took a discreet peek and came back. "Hats off to you, girlfriend. You got the grand prize, for sure. But who's the long, tall drink of water with him? He looks familiar, but I can't place him."

"His cousin, Bo Duke. Retired NASCAR driver."

"OH! I remember him!" Jean said. She looked into the lobby again. "Jeez Louise. I always said people were just prettier down here." Jean was from Iowa. "He's male model material."

"Well for heaven's sake, don't ever tell him that!" Rose chuckled. "He's conceited enough as it is."

"Bring them in, why don't you? I haven't seen either one in years," Rachel said.

Rose went to the door and motioned both men into the newsroom.

Luke shook hands with both women. Bo flashed Jean his trademark smile and even though she had been married 10 years, it made her a little weak in the knees. Then Bo spoke to Rachel. She stood and came over to him with a smile.

Bo looked at Rachel with something like confusion mixed with interest. She looked like Rose, yes, but as Rose had said, like a sister, not a twin. Their coloring was similar. Rachel might be a bit fairer of skin, and her eyes a little more brown.

"Bo Duke. It's been a long time," Rachel said, holding out her hand. Her voice was softer than Rose's, a little higher in pitch.

"It really has, Rachel. Good to see you," he answered, a new tone in his voice.

Rachel felt like she had been hit by a truck when she saw Bo. She didn't remember him like this. When she thought about Bo Duke, she remembered a gangly teenager, all arms and legs, with a shock of blond hair on top and an obnoxious mouth. She didn't plan on this. Anything but this. She had seen his pictures when he raced, and sure, she knew it was the Bo Duke she had met as a teen, but never really made the connection between that mouthy kid and the man in the photos. Where had this man come from? She finally remembered to release his hand and he gave her his very best, devil-may-care grin that nearly knocked her out of her shoes. She held on to the back of her office chair for support. Then she had to remember to close her mouth, which had been hanging open in astonishment. Well, really, in admiration.

Bo leaned his elbows on the counter at her desk and said, "So what do you do around here?"

"Um, I'm uh, well, I'm a news and editorial assistant and I also do some feature writing."

"Is that so? Why don't you come to lunch with us and you can tell me all about it?" he said.

Rachel blushed beet red and said, "Uh, I suppose. Sure. Of course I will."

"Great," he answered, smiling. Rose told him later she could see the yellow tail feathers sticking out of his mouth.

Rose and Luke looked at each other. Rose grinned and Luke just shrugged. Who'd have thought?

"Tell you what. I know you want to fill us all in on what's been going on, so why don't Rachel and I meet you guys over at The Wall for lunch?" That was Jean.

"Great idea," Rose answered. "We can go and get a table. They're usually pretty busy at lunch. We'll go on and let you two finish up and just meet us over there."

"Sounds good," said Rachel, who had finally regained her mental balance. "I do have a couple of calls to make, but we'll be right along."

"See you there," Bo said, with a devilish wink at her. Bang! Her mental balance went right off the rails again. She sat down with a stunned expression on her face.

"Does the talent of mesmerizing women just run in that family?" Jean said to Rachel.

"It must," she answered, staring after Bo. "It must."

"Yeah." Jean looked again. "What that man does for a pair of Levis ought to be illegal." Rachel just nodded.

At their table, Bo started 20 Questions with Rose. "O.K. So tell me about Rachel. Has she ever been married?"

Rose nodded. "Yeah. She got married right out of college. She and Kirk were married, oh, five years? He'd had some sort of cancer when he was a kid, and went into remission. They considered him cured, but it came back in a really aggressive form and the doctors just couldn't do anything for him. It was really sad."

"That is sad," Luke said. "I don't think you ever told me about that."

"You all were on the circuit when it happened," Rose answered. "I guess it just never came up when we saw each other."

"Guess not."

"She seeing anyone now?" Bo asked.

"Not that I know of. She's dated on and off since Kirk died, but nothing serious, I don't think."

Bo nodded. He had some thinking to do about this woman.

Both women listened intently as Rose told the story of her past two weeks, and their wild drive the night before, with Luke and Bo interjecting their comments at intervals.

"Holy..." Jean's voice trailed off. "Man, I can't believe it all blew up that quickly! Well, yes I can. You remember that story out of Savannah a few years ago about shipping and the Mob? Seems like that was all over in a week."

"I wish this was over," Rose said. "I just want to get back into my little office and write my little stories."

Jean shook her head. "I don't blame you. It can be exciting, covering this kind of stuff, but it really takes it out of you, too."

"To say nothing of the possibility of getting yourself shot," Rachel said.

"Yeah. I can do without all that, let me tell you," Rose answered.

"Wait for me a minute," Bo said to Luke and Rose, as they came back to the newspaper. He went to catch up to Rachel, at the corner of the building. "Hey. I meant to ask you something. You want to go to that concert in the park with me tonight? Supposed to be a good band playing. It starts at six."

"That would be fun," Rachel answered. "I guess you can come by the house for me, since you'll be with Rose and Luke."

"All right. That sounds like a plan. See ya."

"O.K." Rachel smiled and turned to go up the steps to the back door of the newspaper office. Bo caught her hand. She was on the second step and turned, now eye level with him. His eyes were intense.

"Wait," he said.

"Yeah?" Before she could breathe, Bo's arms were around her, his mouth on hers.

Startled to her soul, Rachel stopped breathing for just a moment before she relaxed into the kiss. There was nothing she needed more right at this moment. Those arms, so strong, held her gently, as Bo kissed her thoroughly. He broke the kiss and grinned at her. "You don't know martial arts, do you?" he asked.

Rachel remembered the story Rose had told her and said, "No, Bo. I don't know how to flip you."

"That is a really good thing," he murmured and kissed her again.

How did a man learn to kiss like this? She could feel it to her toes. She had loved Kirk, but didn't remember him making her feel hot and cold and anxious and happy, all at the same time. She had met Bo once before, had talked to him for an hour, and now was letting him - O.K., encouraging him to kiss her right here in broad open daylight, in public.

Bo truly was just as surprised. He hadn't counted on this when he said goodbye. It was like he just couldn't help himself. He had to kiss this woman. Had to. Was compelled to. It was like being 19 again with the hormones buzzing in his blood.

Rachel stroked his hair and face and broke the kiss. "I have to get back, but I'll see you tonight," she said. She started back up the steps, turned and smiled at him. She touched her fingers to her lips, throwing a subtle kiss to him and went inside.

Bo walked to the car, hands in his pockets, whistling. It had been a beautiful day before, but the sky was bluer now, the birdsong even sweeter. He got in the backseat with a goofy smile on his face.

"She said she'd go?" Rose asked.

"Yeah. She's going," he answered.

Rose grinned at Luke again and her shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. "Must be something in the water," she said.

"Must be," Luke agreed.


In Hazzard

"Mr. Safiano, Birmingham is a big place. We're still looking."

"Look harder," Rick Safiano snapped.

"We are. This place is crawling with FBI, so they've got to be here somewhere, but Birmingham covers part of two counties, so I don't know where to start looking. But we'll keep on."

"You do that," Safiano said and hung up with a curse.

"No luck?" said Hughie Hogg.

Safiano slammed his fist on Hughie's desk. "Incompetents! They couldn't find a rat in a sewer!"

"Maybe the rats aren't in Birmingham," Hughie said.

"Not in Birmingham? Then where the hell are they?" Safiano was clearly not pleased.

Hughie grabbed an atlas from his desk drawer. He showed Safiano the route to Fort Payne. "And here's where we lost them," he said, pointing to Interstate 59. "But look here. Rose Turney's parents live in this area," he outlined Huntsville, "so what do you want to bet the phone call was a fake and this is where they are? It's just as easy, and even quicker, to get to Huntsville from that point. Hour, hour and a half, at the most."

Safiano swore, fluently and explosively, then, "Why didn't you say something, you idiot?" he rounded on Hughie.

Hughie raised his eyebrows. "I told you to be careful about letting your personal feelings interfere with business. But you said you had it handled, so I let you go right ahead on. Maybe you're not as much of a hot shot as you thought you were."

"Don't screw around with me, Hogg. You're expendable, too."

"Is that so? Maybe, after a while I will be, but I'm not now. Right now, I know more about this area, and these people, than you do. They don't like me, but they trust me more than a newly-come, slick-talkin' Yankee SOB like you. The people of Hazzard wouldn't trust you to tell them their houses were on fire."

Safiano's look was murderous, made worse by the fact he knew Hughie was just telling the truth. "Why did I ever start this operation?" he said out loud.

"Because you wanted the money. Like me. Now we'll do it my way. First thing is to get some of your people on the way to Huntsville. But tell them to be careful, keep their eyes and ears open and not ask too many questions. Media people know each other because they've all worked at the same places, and they hear things. Rose Turney probably knows half the reporters in Georgia and Alabama. Send your people to Huntsville today. They can be there in two hours from Birmingham."

Safiano made the necessary calls, glaring at Hughie the whole time. He then stormed out of the office.

Hughie was also starting to wonder why he had ever agreed to hook up with this joker. He had thought they'd get the operation going, and Safiano would go off back to New York or New Jersey, or back under whatever rock he called home. His phone rang.

"Mayor Hogg," he said.

"Mayor, this is George Goodman." Goodman was one of the sock plant supervisors.

"Yeah, George. What's up?"

"It ain't good. My foreman's been telling me his people have been seeing el autobus blanco. That's the white bus Immigration uses to round people up. He also says the village jefes - that's Safiano's boys – have been seeing los federales around. That's FBI. We're fixin' to get hit, Boss. It's just a matter of time, I'm tellin' you."

"Everybody got green cards yet?"

"Yeah Boss, but that ain't gonna fool INS."

"It will for a while, maybe. Slow them down, anyway."

O.K. Boss. I just wanted you to know."

"Thanks for calling," Hughie said. He hung up and leaned back in his chair. He knew the FBI was around. He knew they were under the gun. Why the hell had he agreed to ever get together with Safiano? The Feds would have probably left his little operation alone for a while, anyway, if the Mob hadn't gotten involved. Now they were everywhere. That phone call changed everything. This was shaping up to be a full-scale operation by the FBI, INS, the Justice Department and who knows who else. He picked up the phone again.

"Kelli, get Cal in here on the double." Cal was Calhoun Bartlett, Hughie's lawyer.

"Yes, Boss," she answered.

When Cal entered the room, Hughie said, "Shut the door. This may take a while." He explained the situation and said, "Now Cal, if the FBI raids my place, do I clam up or sing?"

The attorney shook his head. "Dear Lord, Hughie. I've never had a client like you. O.K. Here's what you do. If the feds raid the place, call me first. Do not say a word to anyone, about anything until I get there. We're going to ask for immunity for full allocution. That is, you sing like a canary bird if they agree not to prosecute."

"Sounds good to me. I'm willing to tell them everything to stay out of prison."

Cal sighed. "One other thing: you'll be naming names in the Mob. One of two things could happen. This could make Safiano be considered a sufficient liability that the higher-ups completely distance themselves from him and let him swing in the wind. With the kinds of charges he might be looking at, that's a distinct possibility."

"What's the other thing?" Hughie asked.

"Rick Safiano has to be fairly highly placed. Otherwise, he wouldn't be starting a new operation this far from home. They trust him and expect him to be successful. This means they would stand behind him. That would not be good for you, because they would then feel it their honor bound duty to hunt you down like a dog and take you out for running your mouth."

Hughie blanched white. "You mean, like a hit?"

"That's exactly what I mean. In that case, your only option would be to go into the witness protection program. Otherwise, you have a big target painted on your back. Witness protection means you disappear. You get another name and another life. You can never come back to Hazzard, and probably not to Georgia, or even the Southeast. You break all ties with your family and friends. It's for life, and it's serious business, Hughie."

Hughie stood up and looked out the window. Life in Hazzard continued its daily round, unaware of what was happening in its very center. He looked around the office. J.D. Hogg had installed the dark cherry paneling, and the mahogany desk had belonged to him, also. "Sow the wind," he murmured.

"What was that?" Cal said.

"Something I remember from Sunday school years ago," he answered. "When you sow the wind, you reap the whirlwind. I guess I've been sowing the wind all these years, me and Uncle J.D., and the whirlwind is about to hit."

"It's not a situation you want to find yourself in, for sure," Cal answered.

"I'm sure you'll be hearing from me soon," Hughie said. "Thanks for coming in on such short notice."

"You're welcome." Cal walked out of the office. He stood outside and looked up at the Hazzard City Hall. A verse from his own Sunday school days came to mind. "Behold," he whispered. "The sins of the fathers shall be visited unto the sons, even unto the second and third generation." And people said the Bible was no longer relevant. Cal walked back to his office, not liking what he saw for his client on the horizon.