Desperado, oh you ain't gettin' no younger.
Your pain and your hunger, they're drivin' you home.
And freedom, oh freedom, well that's just some people talkin'.
Your prison is walkin' through this world all alone.
-The Eagles
The last two hours at Etowah had been spent with Annie going through their provisions, clucking her tongue over this and that, unimpressed with their clothes, shelter, and Daisy's homemade sleeping bags.
"You know the floor of a rail car is cold and hard, right?" she'd asked them. "Trust me, you're gonna want something better when you get up in the mountains."
Something better had been two drab green sleeping bags she'd found at the local army surplus store. With some squeezing, they fit snugly into the loops Daisy had sewn onto their backpacks. She had also reduced their clothes to three sets a piece, explaining that laundromats were everywhere and if they got in and out of a town quickly, they weren't likely to garner any attention by cops until they had already moved on.
"Clean your clothes and refill your water bottles, then go to an IGA and get some food and get out. If you were just two normal people out hitching a ride, I'd tell you to set up camp near your catch out points, but since the cops might get wise and check them out, I'd walk further into the woods. Or find a State Park," she suggested, "most of those have showers and snack machines, and if you stay away from the trails, no one is gonna bother you."
She'd also wanted to know where exactly they thought they were going to sleep if it started raining and they weren't on a train. After listening to Enos stammer something about trees, she had stuffed a small, compact, army issue tent into his backpack. To Daisy's she had added two dozen packages of something called 'Ramen Noodles', which she said were lighter weight than carrying cans and weren't bad in a pinch, a lightweight skillet and small, two-cup saucepan.
Last but not least, she'd given them two green army jackets with hoods, assuring them that they'd be glad they had them at night.
Enos had insisted on paying for everything, but she'd waved him off, telling him that the guy at the surplus store was another former hobo and that he'd practically given the stuff away after Jack had called him.
"I'm just the middle man," she'd said, laughing.
During it all, Daisy had not said a word to Enos, and he ignored her, asking polite questions of Annie while she showed them how to use Jack's crew-change guide, and the Railroad Atlas of North America which she foisted on them as well.
But Annie didn't miss the looks they gave each other when the other wasn't looking, and she recalled what Jack had told her about the two of them. Soul-mates. That had been the term he had used. She knew Jack and Jane well enough to trust his judgment on the matter.
In order to give Enos and Daisy plenty of safe cover, Annie paged the yard bull and the FBI Agent to the CSX station on the pretext of having them fill out some paperwork which she had conveniently forgotten earlier. The white Ford Bronco pulled up outside the little white building just north of the museum and before the door had shut behind the two men, Daisy was gone - walking swiftly across the yard to the grainer Annie had pointed out to them which sat alone on a siding.
Enos stumbled after her, tripping over the loose gravel.
"Daisy...wait!"
She didn't stop and he ran to catch up with her, getting to the bottom of the ladder just as she was climbing over the last rung and onto the porch.
"Daisy..."
"Don't!" she hissed, glaring down at him. "Don't even say it, Enos. Whatever you're thinking of telling me, just forget it." She walked to the far corner of the porch, out of sight.
"Daisy," he pleaded, following her up, "please...just give me a chance to explain..."
She spun around to face him, her eyes bright with tears and anger. "I read your explanation, remember?"
"That ain't what was supposed to happen-"
"What wasn't supposed to happen? Me finding the note, or you still being alive when I found it?"
He took her by the arm, but she shook him off. "Ding-dang it, woman! I'm trying to save you from going to prison!"
"Then quit trying to get yourself caught!"
He didn't answer and turned away from her to shove his backpack through the hole in the back of the porch, hiding it in the small area underneath the hoppers before climbing through himself. The space was four feet long by four feet wide, with the clearance five feet at the front, sloping to three near the back where the bottom of the hopper was welded together. Enos crouched down against the wall.
"They're fixin' to hook us up to the train in a minute," he called, "so you'd best get in here where they can't see you. You can yell at me just as well in here as out there." His voice echoed loudly inside the metal compartment.
"Dang it! You stubborn, obstinate, mule-headed...!" She grabbed her backpack and followed him through the hole, throwing it down opposite his. "Tell me something, Enos -" She fished a white square of paper from the pocket of her jeans which she unfolded and brandished at him. "Did you mean this when you wrote it?"
He stared at the dog-eared piece of notebook paper. It was deeply creased where it had been read and folded and re-read many times and he knew, without looking at the words, that it was the letter he had written her from Jackson.
"Of course I meant it," he said, evading her gaze.
"Read it to me...the first part, not the drivel about me finding someone else."
"No."
The absoluteness in his tone caught her off-guard. She'd expected him to stutter and stammer and blush, not flat out refuse.
"If you meant it, then why can't you say it!?" she shouted. Then, just to irk him, she added, "Maybe you didn't mean it..."
"Daisy, it doesn't matter what I want or what I feel. What matters is that as long as you're with me, you're in danger. And if you think for one second I won't try to keep you safe, then you ain't learned nothing about me in the last thirty years."
"You're right...this ain't about you. This is about us!"
"There ain't no us," he said, leaving no room for debate. "There's you and there's me, and I'm trying to make sure you don't end up six feet under!"
Both of them startled as the grainer began to move and seconds later there was a massive bang and the car jerked as the coupling connected with the car ahead of it. She looked back at him, but his attention was on the track moving slowly past them beyond the the hole in the grainer wall.
How could she make him understand that she didn't care about her own safety? That she only wanted him, for however long God granted him to her and that, after twenty years of wrong turns, she had finally figured out what love was all about. He couldn't ask her to give him up.
"...you are the sun above me, the stars, my moon, my autumn sky. You are the wind I cannot feel, my breath as I try to fall asleep..."
"It's not fair," she said. "It's not fair that now, when I know I love you, you don't want me anymore," but the sound of her voice was drowned beneath the rattle and vibration of the moving car.
Luke walked north along the edge of the Etowah rail-yard, his eyes on the metal building ahead of him where a white truck was parked. As he passed the museum, the loud bang of a grain car being coupled to a nearby train made him jump. A brakeman hurried over and checked the connection, then plucked a radio from his belt as he moved back from the train. There was a sound of rushing air and a screech far up the line and the train began to move slowly out of the yard. Luke turned away and resumed his walk.
He greeted two men as they came out of the building, deciding to play it as though he belonged there. He'd stashed his pack at the south end of the yard and without it he blended in with the other workers and brakemen milling about the yard. Neither man gave him a second glance as he pulled open the door that read "Employees Only".
He entered into a small, cluttered space that was reminiscent of Cooter's Garage. The cheap paneling was covered with maps and charts, and a calendar depicting an ancient steam engine hung askew to the left of the door. There was a smell of metal and oil, of brake dust and dirt. At a large desk, surrounded by stacks of binders and papers, a young woman with shoulder length brown hair stared up at him with a questioning expression.
"Can I help you with something?"
He shifted uncomfortably, having fully prepared himself to be meeting a burly, railroad man, and not this slip of a girl who looked like she might be playing hooky from high-school.
"Uh...are you the one in charge here?"
She raised her eyebrows, amusement shining in her eyes. "I'm the one who knows what's going on around here," she said, "but if you wanna talk to a guy, I can go grab you one of the workers." She jerked her thumb back towards the door. "I can't promise they'll know what you're talking about though."
Luke grinned at her. "No, ma'am, I reckon I'd best talk to you then."
"What can I do for you, Mr...?"
"Duke...Luke Duke." He walked closer and held out his hand. She stood and shook it with a grip that told him she was used to dealing with guys tougher than him. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm trying to track down my cousin. She's got long brown hair, kinda thin. She's probably with a guy who's really tall, black hair. I heard they might've come through here."
"Well, that description fits about a third of the people here in Etowah, but if you're looking for Daisy and Enos, I put 'em on a train not half an hour ago."
"You did!?" He had worried about saying their names, afraid she might be helping the FBI. "Ma'am, if you could help me find 'em, I'd be mighty grateful."
She regarded him silently, searching his face before asking, "What are you wanting to find them for?"
"Well, you see, Daisy's my cousin-"
"I gathered she was something to you."
"This whole thing's gotten mighty crazy, what with her running off with Enos-"
"I believe she broke him out of prison," Annie corrected him. "That's considerably more involved than 'running off with him'."
Luke shook his head. "She's awful confused," he explained. "We just want to find her and bring her back home. Hopefully we can work it out with the FBI to get her name cleared."
"Who's we?"
"Her family," he answered, confused as to why she seemed unaffected by his story. In fact, if he was reading her right, he would swear that she didn't want to help him at all.
"Well," she said breezily, "she didn't seem confused to me, but I can point you in the right direction if you'd like."
Luke tried his best smile out on her. "I'd really appreciate that, ma'am."
She nodded and rifled through some papers next to her on the desk, pulling one out to look at it closer. After a moment she looked back up at him, giving him a lopsided grin that made him wish there were more girls like her in Hazzard. Less bimbo...more brains. He grinned back.
"Mr. Duke-"
"Luke."
"Alright, Luke, if you come with me, I've got just the place for you. There's a boxcar on track four that's going up towards Cincinnati. If you catch it, you should be one step behind them."
"That sounds great...uh...I didn't catch your name."
"It's Miss Reece," she answered, with a smirk. "Did you bring anything with you? A pack or bindle or something?"
"It's in the trees at the end of the yard," he answered, "Should I go grab it now?"
"Well, I expect so, unless you're riding on the fly. Might be a long trip, though." She got up and walked past him and out the door, motioning for him to follow. "The boxcar's on that line there," she said, pointing to a freight train that was stopped on the far siding. It's the one that someone spray painted 'Frog Man Rulz' on in bright green paint. You can't miss it."
He turned to face her. "I'm much obliged to you, Miss Reece," he said. "Maybe... Maybe I'll stop by again sometime and say hello."
She smiled. "You do that."
He waved and walked away quickly, towards the southern end of the rail-yard.
"Yeah, you come back and say 'hi', Luke," she snickered to herself, "if you ever get back from the middle of nowhere."
Annie went back into the dispatch office, picked up the phone and dialed a long-distance number. A familiar voice picked up on the third ring.
"Hey Jack, thanks for the head's up. Luke just came by...No, I took care of him. That train I put him on is gonna stop at every siding from here to New York City. It'll take him three days just to get outta Tennessee." She laughed. "Yeah, I saw the way they looked at each other. Gotta stick up for what's right, don't we?...You too. Take care of yourself...talk to you later...Bye'."
The train disappeared into the forest as they left the openness of the rail yard, the tall trees hiding the sun which had shone bright and hot upon them just minutes before. Enos remained quiet, his face now steeped in shadows, unreadable and unreachable. When at last he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. It echoed in the enclosed space, like an underscore of sorrow. "Daisy... Do you have any idea how scared I am to have you with me?"
His confession stole away her lingering anger. With a sigh, she moved across the car and sat down beside him. "We're not gonna get caught, sugar," she said, "we'll be smart...keep moving."
He rubbed at the stress in his face. "I'm duty-bound to turn myself in," he said, as though trying to convince himself of it. "It ain't right...just running away."
"Enos, you ain't bound to that back-stabbing, life-stealing, no-good GBI! How's it right to put an innocent man in prison, especially one who's a cop so's he can get jumped by every hardened criminal with a grudge against the law?"
He looked down, picking at his ragged nails. "I never said it was, Daisy."
She brought his chin up to look at her. "Then fight, Enos."
Lost in her eyes, he felt the pull that had been between them for as long as he could remember. She was his ocean, drowning him - coaxing him away from the shore and the rocks, and his heart skipped a beat at the undeniable passion she aroused in him. For a moment he couldn't remember what he was fighting against and he felt an urgent need both to throw himself to the mercy of that sea and to take her in his arms and end all divisions between them. But she deserved better than a jail bird.
With effort, he blinked and dragged his eyes away. "I am fighting, Daisy."
"You're fighting me," she said. "Fight them."
She waited for an answer that she knew would not come. Watched him fidget, gathering his thoughts...thinking of how to change the subject. What he did next surprised her. He turned back, caught her face in his hands, and kissed her forehead tenderly.
"I can't, hun," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
Before she could think of an answer, he ducked through the hole and out onto the porch of the grainer, leaving her alone.
