Hi, y'all - thanks to everyone who has been reading this one, and special thanks to those who review. I know the boys are rougher in this one, especially with each other. Don't worry, they won't stay that way forever. They're stubborn, but they love each other...
I don't own the Dukes or any of the main characters, and I don't mean any harm to those that do. I earn no money for what I post here.
Chapter 4 – Squabbling Like Chickens
In all the fights between the boys (and there really had been very few) Luke had never swung first. But right now he was tempted.
Why, that childish voice that still lived in his head complained, does everyone always yell at me? Even when I didn't do nothin'. It was like a given. When all hell breaks loose we can all yell and snarl and snap at Luke, and he will stay calm. Even Jesse (especially Jesse) was known to do it. Count ten, close your eyes and count ten.
Shoot, Bo couldn't even give him ten seconds to breathe.
"Why didn't he say something? He had to have been able to tell that something was wrong."
"How am I supposed to know?" Patience cracking.
"I coulda come home more, or gotten him some hands to help out here, at least. Why didn't he ask?"
"Damn it…" Cracking –
"We's family, Luke! Why…"
"Bo!" Cracked.
Tense moments, breathing and staring. Bright flash of daylight and then Daisy suddenly joining them in the barn, her face all full of that look she'd worn ever since L.D. walked out on her a few months before. Not broken-hearted, more like I'm-keeping-it all-together-with-rubber-bands-and-duct-tape-so-don't-mess-with-me-or-I-might-just-deck-you. One hundred percent Daisy. A hand on each of their shoulders, soothing even as her words cut into them.
"Our Uncle Jesse is in there asking for his boys, the two people he loves more than anyone else in the world, and you're out here squabbling like a pair of chickens over a kernel of half-rotten corn? You just pull yourselves together and get back in there!" Hands on their shoulders pushing them in the general direction of the house now.
"She's your cousin," Bo grumbled.
"Not mine," Luke answered, tiniest little smirk on his lips.
"I ain't dying." A lot of force behind those words.
"Now, Uncle Jesse, just take it easy…"
"Don't you tell me to take it easy, boy, or I'll take you over my knee." As if that knee was not under blankets, prone in the bed like the rest of him, looking far more fragile and small than his kids wanted to see. The desire to bolt back to the safety of the barn and fight with Luke some more rose up in Bo, feeling almost like the greasy breakfast he'd had while waiting for his cousin's flight in the airport – bacon and eggs fried within an inch of their lives – and he was pretty sure it would be making a return appearance any second now.
"It was a minor heart attack, it weren't nothing serious. And if I'da known you boys was going to act like such jackasses, I wouldn'ta called you here."
"Yes, sir." Eyes down, look at how that rug is unraveling. Need a new one in here. Why did I never worry about these things before?
"Sit." Scrambling for chairs, because even if that knee was under blankets, Jesse's voice seemed to indicate that it was just as ready as it had ever been to support a bent over boy, all red-faced and dreading the hand that was about to land in exactly the most painful spot.
"Now, like I was sayin' before the two of you suddenly needed to do some chores…" eyes pinning them in place, daring them to so much as move one lip, even if he had laid hard on the word chores, even if he had all but accused them of slinking out like a couple of cowards. "It was just a minor heart attack. So minor that I'm recuperating right here at home. I ain't dying." Staying quiet now, long enough to make sure both boys' heads came up, meeting each of their eyes. Bo, biting his lip, looking every bit like the whipped pup he used to be as a kid, right after his uncle lit into him for some infraction. But something else in the dark blue, too, a different fear. Luke… stubborn as ever.
"But I am slowin' down. I ain't gonna run this place as a farm no more. So it's up to you boys. If'n you want, the land is yours. If not, well, you boys is free to do what you want with your lives."
Those choices Jesse had wanted to give his kids began to poke and push at them. Daisy had it easy, in a way. Her uncle had made it clear that he expected her to complete college before even considering a return to Hazzard. Of course she'd argued that coming home and taking care of him was more important, and of course he'd told her that he would allow no such thing. The argument had been quick, quiet and decisive. Daisy was on her way back to North Carolina.
And the boys were on the porch, Bo on the old swing, now too small for his long legs (how many times had his uncle swung with him here, teaching him how to properly use a pocket knife – cut away from yourself, son – or how to properly become a man?) and Luke leaning against the railing. No words for awhile, picking at the peeling paint that never did seem to want to stick to the house. Bo's eyes came off the floorboards, finally, seeking out Luke's.
"He ain't that old."
Luke wanted to laugh, because anyone else Jesse's age, Bo would call an old man. But their Uncle Jesse was still immortal to his youngest boy. And, if Luke was honest, his oldest, too.
"He's old enough, I guess. He ain't gonna die tomorrow, Bo." Meant it to be comforting, but somehow it came out with that same old tone, implying that Bo might not have matured past the age of three.
"I know that, Luke!" he snapped, but couldn't stay angry, not when he needed his cousin so badly right now. And he could see something vaguely like an apology in the way Luke shifted his weight, unfolded his arms from across his chest.
Bo waved a hand through the air, forgiving. "I know that, Luke." Much quieter that time. Luke's weight was still shifting, then he was standing and not even tucking in the hem of his shirt and that was downright weird, because Luke was plumb predictable when it came to shirt-tucking – this was Bo's last thought as he found his feet and leaned into his cousin. Hated, sometimes, that he had grown taller than Luke, because it had always been easier to let the older one comfort him when his head only came up to Luke's shoulder, but just like he always did, Bo found that angle, that way they fit together, and just held on. "Welcome home, cuz."
Felt a chuckle in response to that, because they had been home two days now, but ridiculously, this hadn't happened yet. Met at the airport, consumed by that frantic frustration of waiting for Luke's bags, finally hustled to the car and straight home to Jesse. From then on they'd pushed and shoved against each other because it was easier than admitting –
"He ain't gonna live forever though."
Stupid cousin, so honest and –
"Hush, Luke."
A nod, realizing the idiocy of his timing. Spoke into Bo's shoulder. "Welcome home."
"You should stay on the circuit, Bo." He meant it to be a generous offer, but there was no recognition of that in Bo's angry glare.
"We ain't kids no more. Quit tellin' me what to do." Growled, but Luke could hear the underlying tone that he remembered from those days when Bo had short little legs and an even shorter temper and just plain didn't want to be cooperative. How come we always have to do what you want to do, Luke? As if Luke hadn't played Bo's dumb games a thousand times.
And Luke was tired of Bo always taking everything that way, always the victim of his older cousin's bossiness. He was tired of being at the receiving end of everyone's frustration and tired of being asked for his opinion when it was only going to be rejected anyway. He was tired, just tired.
"Fine, do what you want, Bo." Simply walked away to their old bedroom; maybe a nap would help.
Bo always hated when Luke left him sitting there like that. But he wasn't going to chase after him. Nope, they weren't kids.
"You know better than that, Bo Duke." Luke's voice was quiet and low, a warning.
And the thing was, Bo did know better. Knew that Luke wasn't trying to take anything away from him. That boy would share everything, even give Bo slightly more than his half, because he was Luke's baby cousin.
But then again, he didn't know better. Luke would give Bo everything, but it was giving, and that didn't take into account the fact that Luke didn't own it in the first place, so letting Bo have his share wasn't exactly a gracious gesture on Luke's part.
He hadn't meant to accuse his cousin of sending him back to the circuit just so Luke could take over the farm without him, but now he had, and he wasn't sure he wanted to take the words back. Stared hard at Luke and tried to make up his mind.
Luke staring back at him, just the slightest flicker of hurt in the anger. You used to trust to me, cuz. I could tell you to jump the car right at Rosco, practically land it in his lap, and you'd trust that I had a plan behind it. Back in the days when we were close, never more than arm's -
"Dang it, Luke…" Suspended in that moment, while his cousin waited to see what he'd say. Words, dang it, Luke was waiting for words and Bo didn't have any. Leastwise, none that would make any of this better. Should he give in to his cousin one more time (and it would be the last, because if he did this, there'd never be anything to negotiate between them again) or argue until they came to blows?
Walked away, leaving Luke at the kitchen table, hurt still haunting the blue of his irises.
Jesse was up more, now, walking around the house some. Doc Applebee was stopping by less frequently, too. Hated to see his old friend Jesse laid low, and hated even more acquiescing to the man's wishes, back when he'd been in the hospital. No need to call the family now, Amos. I'll call as soon as you let me go home. Hated to see Bo and Luke home for this reason, but loved seeing them home at all. And the old doc really hoped they'd stay. Hazzard needed these Dukes.
But mostly the doctor left Jesse alone with his boys. It really had been a very mild myocardial infarction, and he thought that Jesse spending time with his nephews was probably better for the old man than any amount of medicine the doc could dispense.
Jesse was moving around more, but slowly and quietly, not the big bear of a man his nephews were accustomed to; more of a housecat, quiet and intense, and yet entirely capable of pouncing –
Found his boys in the kitchen, arguing quietly.
Stalk. "What do you want me to say, Bo? No matter what I do it ain't the right thing."
Stalk. "Quit sayin' anything. Always talkin', never listenin', that's you, Luke."
Stalk. "Huh. If that ain't the pot callin' the kettle black!"
Stalk. "Now, you wait just a dang minute…" Chairs scraping as boys were getting to their feet.
POUNCE. "You fools!" Their uncle roared from the kitchen doorway. "Go home. Just go back to Atlanta and Bozeman, and get…"
"Uncle Jesse, take it easy!" Both boys speaking calming words to him while looking heatedly at each other. See what you made him do passing between them loud enough to be heard in Chickasaw, though neither boy's lips moved. Four hands on his back and arms, attempting to usher him into a chair.
"Stop it!" Jesse roared, sounding just as fierce as he had the day they had first come to the farm. He did take a seat though. A whole lot of effort to stay calm, and sitting seemed like a good idea. "And sit down."
Sheepish boys slinking back to chairs, and wasn't that just great. Two fully-grown men threatening to punch each other's lights out as if they were teenagers again. At least back then their uncle could blame it on the hormones. Now they really were just dang fools.
"I didn't get to choose the time that this would happen. If it was up to me, I woulda waited a couple more years." Could almost feel the accusation that neither of his boys would dare to say out loud – how can you leave us, Uncle Jesse? "But when it did happen, I thought it would be okay. 'Them boys is grown up,' I said to myself. 'They can handle this.'"
Bo always had been the louder of his two fools. "Uncle Jesse, we can…"
"You call this handling it?" he interrupted, looking from one to the other, slowly. Eyes dropping to the table in front of them, two heads shook.
"Go home. You got time yet. Go home and think about it awhile. I promise, I ain't dying, not yet."
It was a promise from Jesse Duke, after all. It was safe for them to go home, except –
"One of us has to stay and take care of you, Jesse." And Luke had always been his worrying fool.
"No, you ain't. Emma Tisdale's just been chomping at the bit to help me out here. And I'm ready to let her do it."
"Uncle Jesse…" Skepticism at that because no Duke man had ever –
"I said I'm ready. Emma's been workin' her way into my heart for a long time now." Still with the hesitant glances, his boys. Quit looking at me that way, I know what I am doing. "Just you boys worry about your own love lives!" Followed that with a satisfied smile. Knew that neither of his boys had a love life to speak of. A date here and there, yes. Love life? No.
"But she's as old as you are, Uncle Jesse. How's she gonna…"
Daggers. Sharp and lethal daggers, he hoped, were coming out of his eyes. And, while he was at it, hoped his beard was full enough to hide the fact that he was biting his lip – hard – to avoid smiling.
"Enough," he said, voice echoing off the cabinets and appliances, and if his eyes hadn't made the point his tone sure did. "Now, I'm gonna close my eyes and count to three. And when I get there, I want two boys kneeling right here in front of me where I can hug you both. One…" heard denim rustling. "Two," the thud of a knee on the old hardwood floor. "Three." Didn't bother to open his eyes, just reached out for the warm bodies he knew would be there, felt them respond with an arm apiece around his neck. He loved his fools. And – squinting open a single eye to confirm, yep, one of Luke's arms around Bo's waist and Bo's slung across Luke's back – they loved each other.