Chapter 10: Oh, How Plans Change!
Before long Bo was back in the pickup truck and headed back down the same back roads, avoiding suspicious eyes in Hazzard and Chickasaw alike. The first thing he needed to do was return the pickup truck and retrieve Black Morgan from the Hawkins' place. He ached at the thought of another long ride, but the horse had offroad capabilities that no vehicle could match, and if he couldn't have the General's speed, he'd take the ornery gelding's stealth and versatility.
It was late afternoon by the time he drove up to the Hawkins manor, parking the truck in the garage out back and entering through the kitchen door. Henry was waiting for him there with a soda and sandwich ready, and took Bo's hat and coat.
"A man could get used to this service, Henry," Bo said appreciatively as the manservant ushered him into a chair. He was in a fairly good mood, having thought up a plan on the drive that he was pretty certain would work.
"I was told to take care of you, sir," Henry shrugged, by way of explanation. "Mr. Carter called while you were out, and left this number to call him back." He handed Bo a scrap of paper.
Bo finished the bite he was chewing and took a swig of soda before standing and heading for the phone on the wall. He dialed the number and waited impatiently as the phone rang once, twice, thrice, before it was picked up and a female voice answered.
"Atlanta Public Library, how may I help you?"
"Ah, hi, maybe I have the wrong number…I'm looking for Jack Carter?"
"Oh, yes, is this Mr. Duke?"
"Yeah…"
"Just a moment, sir." Bo heard the familiar clicking sound of lines being transferred, and then Jack's voice. "Bo! Is that you?"
"Yes, Mr. Carter. Are you at the library?.!"
"Yes, my sister works here, I don't have time to explain. Listen – you were right. Brown isn't in Hawaii, he's in Hazzard, I traced his credit card charges. I also talked to a few guys, men I trust – we don't think Leavins and his gang were the end of the conspiracy. They've got to have guys on the inside, guys like Brown. We don't know how deep this goes – but we're gonna get to the bottom of this, and we're gonna help you. Where is the rest of your family right now?"
Bo explained that Jesse and Luke were at the hospital, and Daisy was still unaccounted for. "Cooter was gonna try to spring her out of jail, but I haven't been able to get ahold of him."
"We need to know for sure before we can make a move. I can organize the men I trust to take on Brown and whoever he's got with him, but we don't want to put your cousin or your friend in danger."
"I think we can work around it. You say you've got men? Listen, this is what I was thinking…" Bo outlined the plan he'd thought of on the way back from the hospital. Carter and Henry both listened to him intently. He finished, saying, "I'll leave the details to you. He's gonna suspect something, but I think I can talk him into it."
"It's a good plan. Risky, though."
"I know. Can you do it?"
"We'll be there."
"Alright. I'm gonna call Cooter, then. Thank you, Mr. Carter."
"Thank you, Bo. Goodbye."
Bo hung up and quickly dialed Cooter's garage number. The phone rang and rang, and he was about to give up when the other end picked up, but no one spoke.
"Cooter? Cooter, is that you?" Bo spoke into the line.
"Is this Mr. Bo Duke?" a decidedly sinister male voice asked.
"Yes." A wash of cold dread spread through Bo.
"Mr. Duke, you've shown quite a talent for evading the law. I'd suggest you make things easier on yourself, and your pretty little cousin, and turn yourself in."
"Well I don't have plans to do that just yet, Agent Brown," Bo guessed. It sounded like they still had Daisy, and they were still keeping up the FBI charade.
"Ah, so you've been talking to your friend the mechanic! Such a naughty boy – attempted jailbreak will get him twenty years in a federal prison, I believe. If he makes it there – things have been known to happen between arrest and trial, especially during escape attempts."
Bo's heart sank. They had Daisy and Cooter both, then. "You don't want them, Brown, they didn't do anything."
"No? They're aiding and abetting a couple of felons, impeding a federal investigation!…" As he spoke, Bo wondered why he was going on so long, and realized he was probably trying to trace the call. Bo slammed the phone down and started towards the door.
"We've got to get out of here. If they traced that, they'll be here in no time," he told Henry, who was already on his feet. "I'm sorry to put you in the middle of this. Take the truck and meet the Hawkinses at the hospital – you should be safe there." Bo's mind raced as he pulled on the wool coat again. Henry followed him out the door and to the stables, fastening his own heavy coat.
"No sir, young man, I've got orders," he refused, heading for another stall as Bo opened the gate to Black Morgan's. He lifted tack and padding off one wall even as Bo found his, and brought a tall dapple grey mare out to saddle.
"Henry, I don't think your orders go that far," Bo argued. He checked the gelding over and lifted the padding and saddle into place.
"Then let's say I don't care to face your uncle if he finds out I turned tail and ran while you rode to the rescue. I'm coming with you, son, like it or not."
Bo grinned. The man might have a Yankee accent, but he was stubborn as a Southern mule. "Guess I'll be glad to have you along, then. You know the land around here?"
"Not at all."
"Makes two of us, then."
Both finished with their mounts at the same time. Bo was securing his bow, arrows, dynamite, and the sack with his evidence when they heard sirens wailing in the distance. He looked up towards the sound.
"It's too soon to be anyone from Hazzard," Henry said.
"They probably called Sheriff Little." Bo finished the knot and pulled himself into the saddle. Morgan gave a snort and a hopping sideways step before Bo slapped the reins against his neck in warning, and he stopped, ears laid flat in annoyance.
"Who's Sheriff Little?"
"A man with no love lost for us Dukes, and no one we want to wait around for. Come on!" Bo kicked the gelding to a trot and Henry followed him out the barn door on the mare. The sirens were closer now, and they urged their horses to a full gallop into the rolling fields beyond the manor.
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It was well after dark by the time Bo and Henry reached territory Bo recognized. Despite the speed of their escape, they'd soon found it slow going moving through the overgrown fields and forest, and the waning sunlight only impeding their progress as they lost their direction. At least they had no pursuit, by men or dogs.
Once back in Hazzard, Bo led them by the sliver of moonlight towards town, keeping to the trees and shadows. His breath steamed a grey vapor in the crisp, cold night air, and both men held their jackets close. To improve matters, the crick in Bo's neck from earlier in the day had turned into a screeching headache, and he rubbed one temple as he rode and thought. Just on the outskirts of town, hidden in a clump of trees, Bo reined in the gelding and Henry stopped beside him.
"What's the plan now, then?" Henry asked in a whisper, peering through the trees at the streetlights and buildings beyond.
"I gotta get Daisy and Cooter out of there. There's no telling what Brown will do to them, and they need to be safe when Carter gets here." Bo was searching the scene beyond the trees himself, spying for lookouts and possible routes to the jailhouse. Then he dismounted and pulled a few handkerchiefs from his pockets, kneeling to tie the cloths around Black Morgan's ironshod hooves. "I'll go in the back way and check things out," he said once the horse's shoes were muffled, "And I'll take Morgan in case I need a quick escape. Can you cover us with these?" Bo asked, with one hand indicating the bow and arrows.
Henry nodded, and Bo unstrapped the whole bundle from behind the saddle and handed it to him, dynamite, evidence and all. On foot, they moved in closer to the road. Bo pointed out the key buildings in the square.
"That's Cooter's garage there, and that's the sheriff's department just down there. There's a barred window to the jail cells just behind those bushes there in front. I'll check and see if Daisy and Cooter are down there first, and see how many men they've got around. It's late, so some of them might have turned in for the night, wherever they're staying."
"How are you gonna bust them out?" Henry asked as they made their way back to the horses.
Bo took up Morgan's reins and swung into the saddle. "I haven't gotten that far yet. I'll think of something," he assured the older man with a confidence he didn't feel.
Without another word he urged the horse through the trees and along the shadows, cringing at the slight noise of the horse's muffled hooves on the pavement as he quickly crossed the road. Within the trees, Henry kept pace with his progress, bow in hand. The older man stopped his horse when Bo reached the alley, dismounted, and disappeared from sight. While he waited, Henry began fixing dynamite to a few of the arrows, just in case.
Bo crept around the building, slipping behind the bushes to avoid the streetlight. So far, so good. It was quite dark in the shadows, and there was very little activity in the town – it must have been eight, nine o'clock at night by now, and most shops were closed. Though a half-dozen unfamiliar – therefore probably enemy – men were straggled between Cooter's garage and the front of the sheriff's department, Bo saw little of the 'crawling with feds' that Cooter had described. Nevertheless, he lay flat and low in the shadows of the bushes when he peered down into the jail cells through the barred window.
Daisy and Cooter were there alright, and no agents stood in the space beyond the cells, but Bo still watched for a moment before calling down to his cousin. Daisy knelt against the bars separating the two cells, talking quietly to Cooter, who lay stretched out on the concrete floor. Daisy blocked his head and shoulders from view, but Bo could see a callused fist clenched with white knuckles, and his friend's cap lay on the floor behind him.
"Daisy!" Bo called down in the loudest whisper he dared. She looked up immediately and saw her younger cousin through the bars, and turned back to Cooter for a moment before getting to her feet and walking over to the window.
"Bo! What are you doing? Get out of here!" she whispered harshly, visibly upset.
Bo had a good look at Cooter now, and saw why Daisy was upset. The mechanic looked like he'd been used as a human punching bag. He had two black eyes – one swollen shut – and an assortment of cuts and bruises on his face and Bo could only guess where else. Blood tinged his lips, and he looked like he was in a world of hurt.
"Is Cooter alright?"
Daisy looked back at their friend. "His jaw is broken. He wouldn't tell them where you were hiding, and when we lied to them…" she trailed off. "Bo, you've got to get out of here! I don't know what's going on, but these men aren't FBI agents, whatever they say. I think they killed those girls, and they'll kill you too!"
"Don't you worry, Daisy, I'm gonna get you and Cooter out of there. I…" Bo stopped as footsteps echoed down the stairs inside. Daisy ducked down away from the window, but not fast enough – Brown saw her movement, looked out the empty window, and quickly made the connection.
"They're outside!" he roared, running back up the stairs and rousing the handful of men sitting about the office. "Get the dogs! Get them!"
Bo couldn't move fast enough. He scrambled back through the bushes to the alley where Morgan waited, and leaped into the saddle, kicking the gelding to a gallop with a "Hyah!" It was just moments before three bloodhounds and a dozen armed men ran for the back of the building in hot pursuit, barking and shouting behind him.
The dogs were close on Morgan's heels and Bo thought he could make it to the trees just fast enough, when the horse skidded to a halt that nearly threw him from the saddle. The ornery gelding whirled on the dogs with an angry whinney, tearing the reins from Bo's hands as Morgan reared back and slammed his front hooves down towards the baying hounds. Black Morgan hated dogs. It was all Bo could do to cling to the saddle as the gelding lashed out at the hounds with front and rear hooves, sending one dog yelping as an iron shoe struck his ribs, biting at a second dog that tried to come in from the side. The pursuing men kept their distance from the wild horse, watching the show with cruel amusement.
The spectacle was interrupted by a slight whistling sound, lost in the clamor of barking and equine snorts, followed by a booming explosion in the street that scattered the men and sent a flash of fire into the air. Morgan recovered faster than the men, and lunged again at the cowering dogs as another dynamite arrow landed in the street, exploding closer to the horse than Henry had intended. Bo's ears rang, and the spots from the blinding flash were still clearing from his eyes when he realized he was sailing through the air. Morgan had bucked him clean off and bolted for the trees. The air whooshed out of Bo's lungs as he landed with a hard thud, and a moment later he felt the sharp pain in his shoulder. He lay still on the ground, desperately trying to suck air back into his lungs, when he felt warm dog breath on his face. He looked up, still gasping for breath, to see two bloodhounds and a man with a gun standing over him.
At least his headache hadn't gotten worse.
Y'know, I don't reckon anyone's ever told Bo that a rescue mission usually gets someone out of trouble, instead of getting someone deeper in it.