– Chapter Two –

"Playing Dirty"

The car that parked across from Hazzard Town Hall was nondescript, starting to rust a little around the tire rims, and covered with a light film of road dust. Most people in Hazzard were curious about strangers, but the tall, dark-haired man who climbed out of the driver's seat received no such attention. His work boots, fishing vest, and worn linen work shirt drew no notice from passersby. He jogged lightly across the street and up the town hall steps, disappearing inside.

He glanced around the empty lobby, eyes growing alert as he saw the door marked "J.D. Hogg, Commissioner". He pushed the door open without knocking and strolled inside. He smiled pleasantly as he saw the hulking white-clothed figure behind the desk. "Are you Mr. Hogg?"

Looks pretty friendly, don't he? Don't be fooled, folks…that man is baaaaad news.

Boss looked up from his lunch, startled and scowling. "Hey!" he growled through a mouthful of chicken. "I don't have no appointments this afternoon!" He took a swig of beer to wash the chicken down. "Now you get on outta here and come back when it ain't lunch time! You oughta know better than to disturb a man when he's eating." He took a big bite of a roll to emphasize his point.

The man's smile grew sharp. "My name's A.J. Brock," he said conversationally.

Boss choked on his lunch, eyes widening as he coughed out a spray of bread crumbs. "You're—you're Bulldog Brock?"

"The one and only," the stranger replied. "I'm here to collect on a debt you owe me." He tapped his heel against the door to close it, crossing his arms over his chest. "Mighty clever of you…paying off Finney so he'd put in your bets after the races were over. Hard to pick a loser that way, isn't it?"

Boss chuckled nervously. "Don't think of it as underhanded…think of it as—uh—enterprising! This is America, the capitalist land of the free and home of—"

"I want my money, Hogg. For every race you bet on, I want you to give me what Finney paid out to you."

Boss' eyes grew wide. "Not—you don't want all—"

"All of it. Now."

"N-now?" Boss wet his lips, trying to think of a way to stall for time. He knew very well that the money was just a stone's throw away in his bank, but it was against his nature to part with anything green without a fight. The crooked little wheels in his head had begun turning as soon as Brock had walked in the door. "Well…that's gonna be a little difficult, 'cause—"

Brock reached into his vest and pulled out a handgun, leveling it coolly at Boss' face. "Now."

"I ain't got it now!" Boss burst out, ducking behind his desk.

"That's too bad. Doesn't leave me with too many options." His eyes glinted coldly as his grip tightened on the pistol. "But I suppose there's always your life insurance policy."

"My…" Boss gulped. "…life insurance?"

Brock gave him an ugly smile. "Commissioner J.D. Hogg perishes in an unfortunate accident. The grieving widow collects his life insurance. I pay the next of kin a visit and shake them down 'til I get what's coming to me. It's a neat little system, really. 'Course, I don't know how much would be left after they had to pay all the pallbearers…no telling how many you'd need, big guy."

Beads of sweat stood out on Boss' forehead. "Waitwaitwait!" he sputtered, ducking farther under his desk. "I can get it to you! I ain't got it now, but I can get it to you!"

"When?"

"Tomorrow! I'll get it to you tomorrow!" Boss' heart gave a thump in his chest as Brock's eyes narrowed in a calculating stare.

"How?"

Boss stuttered for a moment or two as he desperately tried to come up with a plan. "Wait, I know! Listen, there's an old abandoned schoolhouse about fifteen miles west of here on Badger Trail. I can bring it there anytime you want! Just give me 'til tomorrow."

"Fine. Tomorrow," Brock agreed. Boss let out a huge sigh of relief and sagged back in his chair. "I'll be there at three AM tomorrow night," the gambler continued. "Bring the money then. I want cash, and I want it on time." He leaned closer, his voice deadly serious as he finished, "And no tricks…I won't be alone."

"Oh, no, sir, no, sir," Boss babbled. "I'll have your money there at two, just like you said."

"For your sake, Hogg, I hope you are. Here's your bill." Brock slipped his gun out of sight, tossed an envelope on Boss' desk with another cold smile, and walked out the door.

Boss exhaled noisily and collapsed back into his chair, hand trembling as he reached weakly for his fried chicken. "Good gravy!...That was too close. My life flashed before my eyes! At least now I got me some time to think." He munched on the chicken leg for a bit, pale face regaining some of its color as he recovered from his fright and started getting mad.

"So he gave me a bill did he? Let's see how much that two bit hustler wanted…" He ripped open the envelope with a scowl and he gave a groan of dismay when he saw the paper. "Fifty thousand, three hundred dollars and forty-two cents. Fifty thousand? That's highway robbery! Why, if that lowlife were to come back in here again, I'd—"

The door to his office suddenly flew open with a bang. Boss gave a startled yell and ducked under his desk, grabbing his hat and pulling it down over his ears. "Dah! Go away! I said I'd pay you!"

"Pay me what, Boss?"

"D'oh! Rosco, you numbskull! Don't you ever knock?" Boss bellowed, scrambling up from the floor. But the giggling sheriff ignored him.

"Good news! Good news, Boss! Guess who I got locked up downstairs?"

"I don't care about your good news!" Boss snapped. "'Cause I just got some bad news!"

"Uh oh. Is Lulu mad at you again? You know, I keep tellin' you she don't like it when you leave your socks on the floor."

"No, you idiot! I mean real bad news!" Boss started pacing around his office. "You remember I was tellin' you about them horses this morning?"

"Sure do."

"Well, I got a little bit of a problem now. Remember how I told you Lou Finney was pickin' my horses for me?"

"Yeah."

"Well, thing is, he was pickin' 'em after the race was already over in exchange for a percentage of the winnings."

"You were cheatin' on an illegal activity?" Rosco tsk-tsked, wagging his finger at his brother-in-law. "Shame, shame, everybody knows your name!"

"I know," Boss said despondently. "That's the problem."

Rosco's face scrunched in confusion. "Boss, you're makin' about as much sense as a bent penny."

"Lou Finney's boss knows my name. And he is none other than A.J. Brock, head of one of the biggest gambling rings in the country. They call him Bulldog Brock, 'cause if he catches onto you, he don't let go. He found out what I was up to and now…" Boss gulped. "He wants my money or my life."

"Your money or your…ghku—ooh…" Rosco's eyes grew wide. He gulped. "That sounds serious."

"You're dang right it is!" Boss exploded. "And he's strong armin' me into giving him over fifty thousand simoleons! If I don't, your fat sister is gonna be the late Mrs. J.D. Hogg. Oh, why can't this be like the good old days where a man could earn an honest dollar unmolested?" he finished mournfully, sinking down into his chair.

"Yeah, you ain't earned an honest dollar in a while," Rosco said thoughtfully, earning himself a dirty look from Boss. He waited a few seconds to see if the commissioner was going to say anything else. When a depressed silence was all that met his ears, he lightly tapped one white-clad shoulder. "…Uh, Boss?"

"What?" Boss growled.

"Now that I heard your bad news, can I tell you my good news?"

"Why would I wanna hear it?"

"Well, I think it'll put a smile back on that fat little face of yours!…Have you guessed who I got put away in the slammer yet?"

"The way you're jumpin' around, it'd better be either Jack the Ripper or a Duke," Boss snapped sourly.

"Ooh, Little Fat Buddy, you're sure a good guesser! I got Bo an' Luke Duke down cold! Cuffed, stuffed, and delivered!"

"The Duke boys?" Boss' fear was momentarily forgotten as he let out an exultant cackle of laughter. "Well, well, you finally did somethin' right! You know, I like the sound of that: cuffed, stuffed, and—" He suddenly broke off with a gasp and stopped laughing, gleaming little eyes suddenly going wide as a slow, scheming grin spread across his face. "Rosco…"

"Huh?"

"I think you done two things right," Boss said slowly. "You have just given me an idea."

"Ooh, what was it?"

"Never you mind." Boss rolled out of his seat. "I gotta go talk to the prisoners." He hurried out of his office and clomped down the stairs. Bo and Luke were in the first cell together, sitting on the cot. When Bo saw Boss come down, he stood up immediately and moved to the edge of the cell, fixing a stubborn glare on the commissioner. Luke stayed where he was, watching Boss and Rosco warily.

"Well, glory be, what's this?" Boss said, hooking his thumbs in his vest. "I do believe I see a pair of Dukes in my jail. You know, boys, it sure is a shame that young men like you—who should have a bright future in this country of ours—stoop to runnin' from the law and landin' yourselves behind bars. It's a real waste of potential."

"Aw, Boss, cut it out," Bo said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Just let one of us out so we can call Uncle Jesse."

Boss narrowed his eyes and puffed on his cigar. "Oh? And what do you think Jesse's gonna do?"

"Bail us out," Bo said in puzzlement.

Boss gave a swift shake of his head. "Unh-uh. I don't think so."

"What? Hey, what's this all about?" Luke asked, rising from his seat.

"Well, I'll tell you." The chubby old man gave another puff on his cigar, relishing his advantage. "Jesse pays his mortgage money to me. So I make it my business to know how my loyal patrons handle their funds. And I happen to know that he just paid his mortgage last week…so there ain't no way he's gonna be able to put up a thousand simoleons to get your sorry carcasses outta my jail."

"A thousand dollars?" Bo gaped. "You're outta your mind!"

"Boss, that's crazy! We ain't done nothin'!" Luke protested angrily.

"Save it! I've heard it all before. Everyone knows you Dukes are trouble waitin' to happen, so don't start cryin' to me when it actually does. Fact is you are now incarcerated with a bail of five hundred dollars each for bein' a common nuisance and repeat offenders…and you'll stay there until it's paid…or for ninety days," he finished with a snide smile.

"You can't keep us here for nothin'," Luke said. He spoke slowly, but with force, and his anger was plain to hear simmering beneath the surface. "And we ain't gonna sit in jail for three months when we got a farm to run."

"Well, that's too bad, ain't it? Shoulda thought of that before you started your life of crime." Boss folded his arms across his chest. "So the way I see it, you Dukes got three choices. One: you can call your Uncle Jesse and have him bail you out—with money we all know he ain't got. Two: you can sit in jail for ninety days." He grinned mockingly. "Or, three: you can get out scot-free today if you agree to run an errand for me."

"What kind of errand?" Luke asked suspiciously.

Boss gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just deliver one itty bitty load of shine."

"Boss, have you completely fallen off the turnip truck?" Bo demanded angrily. "You can't ask us to run shine for you! That's what got us on probation in the first place!"

"You ain't got no choice," Boss replied.

Rosco tapped him on the shoulder. "Uh, Boss, you said they had three—"

"Aw, forget that!" Boss snapped. "Fact is, they don't have no choice, and they know it!"

"Boss, that ain't true!" Luke cut in. "You can't force us to do nothin' for you!"

"Actually, I believe I can," the commissioner replied with a self-satisfied smirk. He glanced at the sheriff. "Rosco, is the General Lee impounded?"

"Well, not yet, but it will be soon as I send Cooter out to tow it in."

"And what would happen if you just happened to find a load of shine in the trunk of that car when you searched it at the impound lot?" Bo and Luke exchanged a glance full of sudden alarm.

Rosco shook his head. "Oh, now, Boss, there ain't no shine in that car. So I don't see how I could find it if—"

"Rosco!" Boss balled up his fist and punched his brother-in-law in the arm. "I didn't ask if there was anythin' there. I asked: what would happen if you found it?" he asked significantly, pointing at the boys' jail cell.

"Ohhh…If I found it!" Rosco chuckled. "Well, I s'pose I'd have to say I caught the Dukes up to their old tricks again!"

"Exactly!" Boss drawled, giving the boys a Cheshire-cat grin.

"Oooh, that's good, Boss! You're so good at comin' up with clever little plans!"

Bo lunged forward against the bars, startling the fat little commissioner back a few steps. "You can't frame us like that, ya dirty weasel!" he burst out furiously.

Boss shrugged. "Who's gonna stop me? Anybody tries to look into this, who do you think they're gonna believe? Two rough-around-the-edges, repeat-offendin' plowboys on probation or a distinguished county commissioner?"

"Boss, that's plantin' evidence! That's illegal!" Luke said angrily.

"Oh, you're a fine one to talk about 'legal'," Boss scoffed. "I ain't the one on the wrong side of a cell block." He turned his back to the cell, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I'm gonna give you boys half an hour to decide what you're gonna do. I'd think real careful if I was you." He stumped up the stairs with Rosco close behind.

"You ain't no Hogg, you're a jackass!" Bo hollered after him. The door at the top of the stairs slammed closed and Bo swiveled around to look at Luke, eyes blazing. "What the heck is wrong with him?" he demanded.

"You're askin' me?" Luke's jaw tightened. "I got no idea." He walked to the back of the cell and settled on the cot again, folding his arms across his chest as a thoughtful expression started to dawn in his eyes.

"I can't believe he's gonna try and frame us like that! He's done stuff like that before, but never with no reason!"

"That means he's got a reason," Luke replied grimly.

"I know what that is. He just wants us behind bars." Bo dropped angrily onto the cot, jostling Luke and making the rickety wooden frame groan in protest.

"But why now?"

Bo was starting to cool off enough to hear the distracted undertone in Luke's voice. He looked over at his cousin, still mad, but curious enough to listen. "You think somethin's up?"

"I don't know." Luke clenched his fists. He was just as mad as Bo, but where his cousin was like a stick of dynamite, his anger was more like a branding iron: less likely to blow up in your face and a lot easier to direct. "I don't think he's bluffing, though…he seems serious."

"So what're we gonna do?"

"You really gotta ask?" Luke asked with dry resignation. "We gotta do what he wants. Otherwise he'll get us thrown behind bars for the next twenty years."

"I guess you're right. Dang, but I really hate it!"

"So do I, but there ain't nothing we can do. Uncle Jesse ain't got the money, and we ain't got the time, what with fall on the way. We can't sit here for three months when the harvest is in two. We gotta be at home. Jesse ain't got the money to hire help…if we can't work, there ain't no way the crops will be ready to sell in time."

"And there goes the farm," Bo concluded with a sigh. He glanced unhappily around him. "So now we just wait for him to come back down and gloat?"

Luke leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Now we wait."

Now, if that don't leave a bad taste in your mouth. There ain't nothin' worse than waiting for Boss Hogg to show you dirt an' then rub it in your face.

xxxxxx

Exactly thirty minutes later, the boys heard the door upstairs open again and stood up as Boss and Rosco appeared in front of them once more.

Boss tapped the ashes from his cigar onto the floor and grinned at them. "Well, boys? What's it gonna be? Are you gonna give me one hour of your time…or are you gonna do twenty years hard time?" he finished with a scowl.

Luke gritted his teeth, exchanging a final look with Bo before answering. "We'll do it, Boss."

"I'm glad to hear you say that. See, Rosco here has just had the General Lee towed in…but when he searched it, he found somethin' rather alarming in the trunk." He produced a Polaroid from his wallet, holding it up for the boys to see. It was a photograph of the General's open trunk, loaded down with crates of jugs filled with clear liquid.

Luke's soft blue eyes grew hard. "That ain't ours," he said flatly.

"Well, it's just your word against mine, ain't it? Lucky for you, I'm a big-hearted man and right now, I'm inclined to believe you." Boss smiled innocently, then gave his prisoners a sideways stare. "'Course…if you boys give me any trouble, why…this picture goes straight to the Feds."

Ain't that somethin'? Boss couldn't play any dirtier if you gave him a cow-chip and a slingshot.

Bo's face darkened with anger. "That's blackmail! Boss, you're a—"

"Dah dah dah! Just you hush! You'll get the picture just as soon as you deliver my shipment. Then you can do whatever you want with it." He made a show of tucking the picture away in his money belt. "So now that we understand each other…Whattaya say?"

"We said we'd do it, didn't we?" Luke replied, exasperated.

"Wonderful! Rosco, open the door and let my two new delivery boys outta that cell!" Boss ordered. Rosco fumbled noisily with his keys and slid the iron bars aside. Boss stepped forward as the boys emerged and put a chubby arm around each of their shoulders. "Boys, I am so glad you saw things my way!" he said cheerfully. "Trust me, you made the right decision."

"Aw, cut it out!" Bo said sullenly, shrugging the older man's arm away. "Just tell us what we gotta do so we can get outta here."

"Hey, hey, hey…that ain't no way to talk to the man who just did you a favor," Boss said, wagging his finger at Bo. "If I were you, I'd be more polite…I still got the power to put you in the poky permanently."

"Boss, just tell us," Luke said with forced patience, laying a restraining hand on Bo's shoulder.

"Well, all right. You boys are gonna go to the Boar's Nest at two o'clock tomorrow night to pick up the load of shine. Park at the back of the building and don't let nobody see you."

"Where exactly are we takin' the shine to?"

Boss shook his head. "Unh-uh. That's all you need to know for now. You'll find out where you're goin' tomorrow. If you're lookin' for your car, I had Cooter tow it to his garage so you can get on home. But just remember," he finished warningly, "two o'clock, or twenty years."

"Don't you worry. We'll be there," Bo said. He turned and stalked away, Luke just behind him. Boss waited a minute or two to make sure they were gone, then gave a cackle, rubbed his hands together in glee, and shuffled up the stairs. Rosco followed him into his office and shut the door.

"Oh, Rosco, I tell you…sometimes I am such a genius I amaze even myself! I might still lose fifty thousand dollars, but I'm gonna get those Duke boys out of my way for good while I'm doin' it!" Boss stepped over to the window and peeked through the blinds, watching Bo and Luke cross the street and head to Cooter's place.

Rosco scratched his head in mild confusion. "Hey, Boss, what was all that about downstairs?" he asked. "I don't think you got any shine to ship right now."

"Hmph." Boss sucked on his cigar. "Well, you're half right, anyhow."

"Oh." Rosco's face puckered into a frown. "Well, which half?"

"The part where you said you don't think," Boss replied snidely. "I don't got shine to deliver…but I got to deliver money."

"Ooh, right…to that Bulldog fella."

"Right. But see, Brock won't care who gives him the money so's long as he gets it."

"So…you want the Duke boys to deliver it for you?"

"You're half right."

"Only half right again? Which half is it this time?"

"I want the Duke boys. But they ain't gonna deliver it." Boss snickered as the cleverness of his plan caught up to him. "They're gonna try…but if they just happened to be robbed along the way, well…that wouldn't be my fault, would it?"

"Ooh, I get it now, Boss! You're gonna steal it from yourself, is that it?"

"Bingo! If I'm lucky, I won't have to pay off Brock. If he still wants the money, he'll get it…after he catches the Duke boys for stealin' it."

"Ooh, I love it, I love it! You're a sneaky little devil," Rosco chuckled. Then he paused and his face folded into a puzzled frown again.

Boss rolled his eyes. "Rosco…I can see you're gearin' up to ask me a real stupid question, so just spit it out before it rots in that head of yours."

"Boss…why are you gonna move a load of shine?"

"Dah! You nitwit!" Boss stamped his foot. "There ain't no shine! But I ain't about to tell the Dukes what they're really doin'. The less people know about this, the better. So that means you keep your trap shut, you hear?"

"Sure thing."

"All right…come on, we got to track down some greenbacks and some glass jugs. I've got money to bottle!"

Y'all sit tight. Boss don't know it, but tryin' to put one over on A.J. Brock is like playin' with fire: it looks fancy, but it ain't never too long before somebody gets burned.