"Well, you've definitely got a concussion. How's your memory and eyesight?"
"Told you," Daisy said.
Bo looked up at the doctor standing over him. "Both are fine. I ain't dizzy no more either. I'm tellin' you, I'm fine."
Doc Appleby shook a finger at him. "Now, you can never be too careful." He looked over to Luke. "And don't let him drive for a day or two."
"Is he gonna be okay or not?" Luke asked.
Doc Appleby scoffed. "He says he feels fine, there ain't much to worry about. But if he starts to get dizzy or feel nauseous, it's the concussion doin' concussion stuff. The only thing that worries me is the location. With a blow like that on the base of his skull, he's lucky a concussion is all he got."
"What d'you mean by that, Doc?" Bo asked.
"Well, it's your spinal cord, your brain stem, the nervous system, any number of things coulda happened. I'm sayin' you got lucky."
"So what now?"
"You'll probably be prone to headaches for a little bit, so I'd keep some aspirin handy. And be careful not to stand up too fast and sit down if you start gettin' dizzy. This's common sense but I know how you young men are and I want you to mind me, y'hear?"
Bo nodded, trying to avoid the doctor's smoldering gaze. "Yes sir."
Doc Appleby seemed satisfied with this answer and he turned to pick up his bag. He was gone a moment later. Luke watched him leave, turning from the door with an eyebrow cocked. Bo and Daisy looked up at him.
"What're you thinkin'?" Bo asked, a wry grin spreading across his face.
Luke was tapping a finger to his cheek, seemingly deep in thought. "It's nine in the mornin'."
"Yeah. So?"
"Rosco made a big show of chasin' us yesterday and he never even gave us a ticket. He should be here by now."
"Maybe he fell sick or somethin'," Daisy said, half-joking.
Luke shook his head. "Rosco would dig his way outta his own grave to write us a ticket. And don't you think it was kinda odd that ol' J.D. Hogg wasn't at the Boar's Nest last night?"
"Somethin's up," Bo said.
Luke nodded. "Boss Hogg's up to somethin', and I think I'd like to find out what it is."
"Great, I'll drive."
"Not a chance."
The man known as Clayton Jennings didn't necessarily exist. Or rather, his name didn't. There was no such man named Clayton Jennings originating from Louisiana nor fitting the general description of the man in the hotel. In fact, there were no birth records for a man named Clayton Jennings for the year 1928, which was the date listed on his driver's license. Not until 1953 which is the same year as when the registration stickers for his 1935 Cadillac Series Ten expired. And he had certainly been on Earth longer than 1953.
Regardless, this man who called himself Clayton Jennings sat within the walls of the Hazzard Hotel. At his feet laid a curled form of velvet fur, a new attachment that he'd acquired the afternoon of the day before. He was doing nothing of particular interest and golden sunlight filtered in through the window. And it was only when he heard a knock at the door that he got up to go answer it.
He was by no means a big man, not very tall, and even less heavy. So, when the pot-bellied man of six-foot-four appeared at his door, he was, of course, not the least bit intimidated.
"Let me in, Jennings, I ain't got all day," the man grumbled.
Clayton rolled his eyes. "Russell Williams, a pleasure as always."
He stepped away from the door, leaving it open. He walked to the desk where he'd opened his briefcase and began to close it. He listened as the man closed the door behind him and crossed the room, drawing shut the window curtains and leaving it significantly darker. Clayton, slightly annoyed by this as well, went to his trunk to fish out a bottle of brandy. He took the time to pour himself a glass without offering Russell any and took a drink, the two of them standing in silence.
When Clayton was done with his unorthodox ritual, he sighed and looked at the other man. "So, why's it exactly they send you, some sleazy racketeer from Tennessee, down here after little ol' me? What're you gettin' outta this, cher?"
"Nothin'," Russell replied in that gravelly voice of his. "I'm here to make sure you don't screw us over like you did in Albuquerque. The boss gets nervous lettin' you off your leash, y'know."
Clayton laughed, loud and hard. "Oh! A leash, you say?" He laughed again. "I've heard some people are into that. I think I'll get it rhinestone-encrusted in that case. Better yet, a diamond-studded leash and collar, a matchin' set!"
Russell grumbled again, his gaze hardening. "He told me you had a mouth on ya."
Clayton flashed a Cheshire Cat grin and held up his hands. "Mais, guilty as charged. I'm a freak, what can I say?"
Russell scoffed. "You're washed-up is what you are. Now, down to business. You need money."
"And I know where to get it."
"So you've met J.D. Hogg I presume."
Clayton followed the man with his eyes as he walked toward the desk and reached underneath the chair to pull up the little bundle of fur that had been lying there.
Clayton nodded stiffly, watching Russell grab the pup by the scruff of its neck and hold it up to examine it. His hand crept toward the inside of his coat, should any harm come to that dog… "A real sucker that one. Oughta be good for just about anythin' I need."
Russell was still holding the pup in the air and looking at it, turning it in his hand as it started to whimper. Clayton's hand closed around the grip of his pistol.
"What d'you even get for a mutt like this anyway?" Russell asked.
His big, clumsy fingers were prodding the ugly scabs of the pup's ears where they had been cropped, or rather, haphazardly chopped off.
"It was free. Some man in his yard, it was his last one. Took its ears and tail, not that I know why, so I took his in return. Though instead of his tail it was his leg. He's in the hospital. He'll be fine. Maybe," Clayton replied. He only wished for the man to put the damn dog down.
"Well, he's an ugly thing if you ask me. Don't look like he'll be good for much neither. I say get rid of him." He tossed the pup unceremoniously onto the floor where it stumbled to regain its footing. He turned around.
Clayton quickly removed his hand from the inside of his coat. "My dog, I do what I want. And she's a girl. She'll be a guard dog."
Russell made a face, somewhere between a cringe and a scowl. "Has he offered you anythin' yet?" the man asked, now pacing the room.
"Combination of assets," Clayton replied, stooping to pick the puppy up off the floor.
Russell laughed. "He's still livin' in the past. You don't got any assets."
"I know that. But as long as he doesn't…"
There was a pause and, slowly, a sly smile crept up Russell's unsightly face. "As long as he don't know you're flat broke, we got him wrapped around our fingers."
"And I won't be flat broke for much longer, cher. Freedom's so close I can taste it."
"Well, you just keep lickin' your lips 'cause we ain't done yet." Russell stepped behind him, clamping his big hands down on his shoulders. Clayton cringed and immediately went stiff. "Now, you go and tell that tub of lard runnin' the county that you'll take his offer."
Luke parked the General Lee in the alley behind the drug store, he, Bo, and Daisy making their way across the street to the courthouse. The three of them ducked through the shrubbery, finding the opening that had become a result of numerous expeditions such as this. Daisy kicked off her heels and Bo laced his fingers together to make a step for her as she climbed onto Luke's back. Bo and Daisy peeked in through the window, relieved that the blinds weren't closed.
"Anythin'?" Luke asked.
Bo shook his head. "Just good ol' Boss and Rosco."
"No Enos though," Daisy added.
"What're they doin'?" Luke asked.
"Rosco's doin' somethin' with the bulletin board and Boss' yellin' at him."
"Figures."
"Wait a minute, who's that?" Bo asked.
Daisy followed his gaze to the door where a man in a gray suit was walking in.
"Never seen him before," she remarked, leaning closer.
There was a short grunt from Luke as her weight shifted. He readjusted his hold on her right leg.
"He looks mean," Bo added, watching as the gray-suited man approached Boss Hogg.
Daisy leaned forward even further, working her fingers underneath the window and pushing it up an inch. She and Bo quickly ducked as the stranger's gaze snapped toward the window. Daisy clamped a hand over Luke's mouth before he could protest her constant movement. Bo was the first to make a move, looking up over the window sill, relieved to see that no one had paid any more attention to the window. The stranger now had his back turned to them. Bo studied the man's cane curiously.
With the window cracked open, they could hear the three men's voices clearly. Boss Hogg feigned surprise at the stranger's approach, revealing that he wasn't all that much of a stranger after all.
"Ah! I take it you thought over my offer," Boss Hogg said with a smile.
Then, he did something that made the Dukes do a double-take. He offered the man a cigar, which he gladly accepted.
"Mais, I have. I won't say it don't interest me, but you gotta understand me wantin' to protect my investments, Mesye Hogg," the man called Clayton answered.
Boss Hogg nodded and offered a smile dripping with false empathy. "Oh, of course, of course! Whatever makes you comfortable."
Clayton seated himself atop Rosco's desk, crossing one leg over the other. The sheriff seemed to disapprove of this but didn't say anything. "I wanna know what I'm gettin' myself into, of course. What d'you say tomorrow? We'll have lunch. And I'll hand over some of my assets. How's that sound?"
Boss Hogg was practically grinning from ear to ear. "That sounds mighty fine, Mister uhh… Mister…"
Clayton scowled in annoyance. "Jennings. Clayton Jennings. Just call me Clayton, Mesye Hogg."
Boss Hogg pointed his cigar at him. "Yes, yes, Clayton Jennings, of course! I'll meet you here at noon tomorrow. I ain't sure if you were aware but I also own a little establishment called the Boar's Nest. I'll have all the food catered here at no expense!"
Clayton seemed unimpressed by this and he leaned forward to stare Boss Hogg in the eye, resting a forearm on his knee. Boss Hogg's smile cracked and he looked like he was starting to sweat, which didn't take much effort, mind you. There was a chilling cold in his eyes, like a January sky. Icicles turned into daggers, impaling their victims ruthlessly. If he was the Devil, it meant that Hell had frozen over.
"You can mess around with the details all you want, Hogg. All I ask is that the place is secure and we talk business. I'll also be bringin' along an associate of mine. If you so much as think about playin' tricks…"
Boss Hogg held up his hands. "I wouldn't dream of it!"
Clayton nodded and leaned back, slowly. "Good."
No longer feeling the need to eavesdrop, Daisy wriggled down from Luke's back and crouched on her haunches. The boys followed, Luke groaning on behalf of his back.
"You're fine, I ain't that heavy," Daisy hissed, hitting him on the knee.
Luke rubbed the small of his back. "Yeah, but when you're jumpin' and jivin' like a teen swinger on Saturday night you're liable to hurt a guy."
Daisy changed the subject. "If Boss' caterin' from the Boar's Nest tomorrow, that means I can get in there."
Luke followed. "That means we can all get in there."
She gave a confused look.
"Me and Bo can hide away on the carts. We'll use the tape recorder you got for Christmas."
"But what if y'all get caught?"
"Well, we just won't get caught, Daisy," Bo said with a grin.
"Of all the reckless…"
Luke put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll be fine, don't worry. Worst that can happen is Rosco arrests us. Boss may be a lotta things but he won't tolerate no shootin' in his presence."
Daisy shook her head, stealing a glance back up at the window. "I just don't trust it! It'd be better for me to do it my way, out in the open."
"And what happens if Boss dismisses ya? Tryin' to stick around after that would be even trickier. We do it my way. My logic is they won't come lookin' for us if they don't know we're there, it's a basic military tactic."
Bo sighed and shook his head. "Please don't make another speech about guerrilla warfare. If you're gonna talk about the Marines, at least talk about the cool stuff you did, like drivin' a tank or shootin' at people."
"I wasn't… goin' to." Luke looked at his cousin skeptically. "And that was awful personal."
Bo paused for a moment, thinking about what he'd just said. He scratched at the back of his head sheepishly, wincing when his fingers ran over the sensitive flesh of the wound at the base of his skull. "I-I'm sorry, Luke, I didn't mean that. I don't know why I even said that."
"Don't worry about it. But we still got a job to do. Now let's get outta here before someone spots us."
The three of them got up and crept out of the brush, back toward the drugstore. Bo lagged behind a little, still rubbing gingerly at the tender spot on the back of his head. All the while, he tried desperately to brush off what he'd said. But to no avail.