Welcome again, to Hazzard County. Ain't nothin' changed much, still got them rollin' hills, blue skies, and quiet countryside. Well… almost quiet. Here, you see one very angry sheriff and two down-home country boys who were goin' just a might too fast for his likin'. Well, anyway, if y'all are here, you already know what's been happenin', so I'll just leave ya to it.
That fine morning, a streak of orange flew around a curve, not bothering to slow for it, and had barreled past the sign at the border of the county, closely followed by a pair of flashing red and blue lights. The eyes of the patrol car's driver at once grew wide as the car plowed through the sign, even after letting his foot off the gas pedal before taking the turn with much more care than the stock car. And in doing so, he lost some ground and fell even further behind.
As for the two young men sitting in the orange escapee, one stole a glance behind them while the other drove.
Now, for those of you who don't know, this's Bo Duke, and Luke Duke. They're cousins. And they fight the system. Any system.
"He still hangin' in there, Bo?" Luke asked.
He was in the driver's seat, watching the road ahead of them carefully. Bo, however, was looking behind them and turned around in his seat.
"Yeah, but that last turn there gave us some extra ground. Think we can jump the creek and cross back into Hazzard?" the blonde Duke boy asked.
"We'd have to cut through the trailer park to make it past the junction so he can't head us off," Luke argued, hiding that he wasn't fond of doing what he'd described.
But this hint as well as the older boy's exhibition of his ability to plan ahead was lost on Bo. "Well alright, step on it!"
Luke rolled his eyes and shook his head, albeit speeding up and turning off onto a rough, dirt road. The squad car relentlessly followed.
Another bit of sunshine for all you culturally deprived, this's Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane of Hazzard County. Right-hand man of the county commissioner, the big man that owns this county, and his is the system the Duke boys fight. Both him and Rosco are about as crooked as two sidewinders on a forty-five-degree incline.
Growin' up without a dad in the picture, and voted out of his pension after thirty long, hard years of honest work, well, it's no wonder ol' Rosco turned out the way he did. At this point, I'm willin' to bet that chasin' the Duke boys is the only reason he gets outta bed in the mornin'.
Rosco scowled and reached for his CB, his brow furrowing as he raised the mic. "Now, you boys in the General Lee, just pull it over. Ain't no sense in chasin' y'all after what you just did, see that's a naughty-naughty!"
Hearing this, Bo grinned and picked up the call. "And what would that be, Rosco? We's only goin' five over."
"You boys makin' me chase ya all over the blasted country and plow over that road sign back there, that's county property!"
"So it's Monday then. Rosco, you took that sign down yourself, you can't blame us for that."
Rosco made a distasteful noise as he contemplated a reply but instead tossed his CB mic down. "Some days it don't even pay to get outta bed in the mornin'." He made another noise which would be better described as one genuine Rosco Noise.
Bo laughed and set the CB mic back into place, looking up at the road ahead toward the approaching trailer park. They continued through, roaring down the main boulevard. The General Lee hit a line of mailboxes whilst avoiding a pothole in the dirt road. And while Bo was snapping at Luke to watch where he was going and Luke was telling Bo to shut up and let him focus, an old man came running off his porch waving a shotgun in the air like it was some kind of baton. Behind him was a confused-looking young woman. However, as soon as they recognized the car, the young woman pushed the old man out of the way and started shaking her fist.
"Bo Duke you fat jerk!" she yelled as the orange stock car roared past.
Bo growled and leaned out the window. "Oh, get a life, Kathleen!" he yelled back at her.
Luke quickly grabbed him and pulled him back inside the car. "The hell's wrong with you?"
"What? Dang mare cheated on me, then said it was my fault." Bo tossed his head, blonde curls tumbling. "Believe me, she's nuts!"
Luke shook his head in exasperation. "Alright, just… get us outta here, Jesse's liable to tan our hides if we ain't back by noon with this feed." He gestured to the back of the car.
"Just jump the creek, we'll lose him," Bo insisted.
Luke sighed and shook his head. "One of these days some fool stunt of yours is gonna land us right in front of the pearly gates."
He sped up again and made a mad dash for a forest road, Rosco gaining ground behind them. As they neared the creek, the woods opened up, and Bo and Luke's hearts dropped as they realized that the spring weather had served to wash the banks out, leaving a wide gully where the creek usually ran. As they neared it, too late to turn back, with both of them holding their breath, Luke asked: "You sure about this?"
Bo cringed and pressed a hand against the dashboard, prepared for impact. "Not really!"
As he said this, the General Lee hit the bank, flying up over the gully and through the air, leaving an arc of dust behind it. Rosco skidded to a stop on the bank, stepping out of his car and shaking his fist at the Duke boys, who were nearly gone.
Rosco, already in a sour mood from his run-in with the Duke boys, had taken delight in finding an out-of-state car in violation of a county ordinance. Which one, that was yet to be determined. And as he led the man from his Series Ten Cadillac parked behind his police cruiser, a sudden chill went up his spine. The same one that he'd endured upon looking the man in his cold, savage eyes for the first time. He suspected it may have been the close proximity. Either way, the man had only said four words to him, then nothing else, which happened to be, "I want a lawyer."
Nevertheless, Rosco would've hated to have come back to the big man empty-handed, after all. Either way, he'd caught the man with multiple fake IDs, and an illegal firearm, and he had outdated registration stickers on his car (circa 1953), not to mention all of the other pending charges Rosco wanted to throw against him. Why, might you ask? Because he wasn't a local, that's why. And the sheriff was in a bad mood. However, under the circumstances, the big man, from his comfortable little desk in his comfortable little office, said, "Bring him in!" and his wish was Rosco's command.
The big man of Hazzard County was otherwise known as Boss Hogg, or rather, "Boss" J.D. Hogg, that is (Jefferson Davis Hogg, that is). A short, corpulent man of 53 who ran his neck of the woods with an iron fist. Commonly seen in a snow-white, three-piece suit with a matching Stetson hat. He was the kind of man to huff long cigars and cheat at poker. Well, cheat at anything, really. He was, to say the least, greedy. As well as stubborn as a mule. And about as charming as an Army tank. Not to mention his general unattractiveness.
But, behind those shifty, beady little eyes of his lay a calculating mind that worked to satisfy his desires. And his inability to leave well enough alone came with it. He wouldn't stop until he owned everything there was to own as far as land and moonshine whiskey stills.
In one's mind's eye, you may picture him sitting in the vault of the bank (which he also owned), tanning in the sunshine rays of gold bars and fanning himself with greenbacks.
And if it weren't for his well-practiced smiles of sympathy and voice softened to the premise of melted butter, one would think him downright evil. But he was, after all, just a man.
And the real evil was walking in the door.
Boss Hogg sat in his high-backed chair, facing the wall. Cigar smoke rose in wisps, fogging the room with a gray haze. He listened as the office door opened to admit someone, then closed again not a moment later. Then, the approaching footsteps to his desk. Boss Hogg turned slowly with a sly smile, tenting his fingers over his corpulence.
"Well, well, and who might you be?" he asked.
Before him stood a man in a gray pinstripe suit with a fedora. He couldn't be much taller than him. However, unlike Boss Hogg, this man was very thin with gray hair and steely, blue eyes. He was deathly pale and his lips were pulled back into a crooked snarl. A thin mustache sliced his upper lip. He leaned on a dark-wooded cane, its brass handle carved into the head of a ram, like the hood ornament of a Dodge.
"I ain't speakin' without a lawyer present," the man said calmly.
His accent was unmistakably Cajun. Whilst eyeing the man up, Boss Hogg stood from his desk and walked around to meet him. He held his hand out to him, removing the cigar from his mouth.
"Commissioner Hogg's the name sir, Mr. J.D. Hogg," Boss Hogg greeted.
The man glanced coldly at Boss Hogg's outstretched hand before lifting the head of his cane and pushing his hand away with it.
Boss Hogg's face fell as he did this. Who did this man think he was?
"Mais, if it's my name you want, it's Clayton… Jennings. I'd say it was a pleasure meetin' you but that'd be a lie. And I ain't much of a liar."
"Well, Mr. Jennings, it seems as though you have a bit of a reputation," Boss Hogg said, his smile returning and his fingers moving greedily.
"If you're lookin' to exploit me, I'll have no part of it. Whatever business you think you might have with me, you can forget it, mesye."
He was quick, Boss Hogg had to give him that. As he hastily tried to figure out another way to approach this, Clayton started talking again.
"As for your charges, I do want a lawyer 'cause I won't be lettin' you stick me with some shit wrap in some Georgia hick-town."
As Boss Hogg slowly formed a nod, a sinister sneer spread across his face. "But, y'know Mr. Jennings, I think I could be persuaded to drop those charges altogether. In exchange…"
He noticed then that Clayton's hand seemed to get tighter around the handle of his ram's head cane and the man looked him up and down. "And just what is it you want, Mesye Hogg?"
"I've been lookin' for someone interested in combinin' assets. Double the size, double the growth, double the profit!"
"Double the risk," Clayton hissed, though he seemed a bit relieved. "Your ass must be pretty jealous of all the shit that come outta your mouth. I might be a gambler but I ain't stupid, and I'm liable to walk away when the odds ain't in my favor."
Boss Hogg chuckled. "It won't cost you an arm and a leg. All I'm askin' for right now is a small, little investment to get us goin'. It don't gotta be all or nothin', Mr. Jennings."
"If you'd let me think about it-"
"Of course!" Boss Hogg exclaimed, trying to put a neighborly hand on Clayton's back but the gambler flinched away from him. Boss Hogg, instead, cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh, right, anythin'. I'll let you think about it. As for your ah… legal discrepancies, let's say it was all just a big misunderstandin'."
Boss Hogg gave him a well-practiced smile and a sinister sneer spread across Clayton's face.
"Good, now there's somethin' you can do for me. I'd like a room at your hotel, just until my rendezvous gets here if you don't mind."
"Of course, consider it done!" Boss Hogg replied in an agreeable tone.
Clayton tipped his hat. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mesye Hogg. Now, will I be gettin' my things back now or will I have to steal 'em later?"
"Oh, oh, right. Mr. Jennings, I will personally return your belongin's to you right now, all charges dropped, you are free to go!" Boss Hogg announced, ushering him out of his office.
The commissioner walked up to Rosco's desk where the sheriff stood. "Rosco! Drop all the charges against Mr. Jennings here."
Rosco gave him a confused look, looking down at the bags of evidence on his desk. "B-but Boss, we got all this evidence here-"
Boss Hogg grabbed him by the tie and Rosco made a choked noise. "Yeah, and I'm tellin' you to give it back!"
Rosco jumped and stuttered, quickly handing Clayton back his gun and his fake IDs. After the pistol was returned to its holster snugly under Clayton's arm and every driver's license, badge, and passport was back inside the man's briefcase, Clayton turned to pick it up.
"Will I be gettin' my car back?" he asked.
"Yeah, if you pay the fifteen-dollar impound fee," Rosco replied.
Clayton shot him a deadly glare which sent a bolt of fear shooting through the both of them like bullets.
"O-on second thought, why don't you just take it? Rosco, give him the keys," Boss Hogg ordered.
Rosco gave him another confused glance. "Are you sure about this, Boss?"
"Yes, I'm sure!" Boss Hogg swiped the keys from him and handed them to Clayton. "There you are, sir. Is there anythin' else I can do for you?"
"No, I can't say there is. Pleasure doin' business with you, Mesye Hogg. Au revoir, kuchon," Clayton responded as he swept himself away and out the office doors, leaving Boss Hogg and Rosco to wonder just who he really was.
After he was gone, Rosco turned to the grinning commissioner in disbelief. "Boss, now, I still don't understand why you let him go."
Boss Hogg's grin grew wider as he worked to light a cigar. "Because, Rosco, yet again, you fail to see the bigger picture. I want him to think he might be able to snooker me, that he's outsmarted me. But, once his money runs out, I'll run him for everythin' he has, lock, stock, and barrel. And he'll come crawlin' back to me lookin' for a job. It's simple. Sooner or later, he'll be back." Boss Hogg huffed on his cigar, big puffs of smoke rolling out of his mouth as he chuckled to himself, rubbing his hands together and laughing. "And by the time he realizes he's trapped, it'll be too late."
The day, young as it was, grew to be warm and beautiful. And a day of this nature was only fit to be enjoyed to its greatest capacity, in the form of a ball game, of course. Bo was up to bat, Luke was getting annoyed, and Cletus was sweating like, well, a hog.
The deputy stood with his hands on his knees, whining about lunch and the heat. He was at first base. Cooter on second. Enos on third.
Cooter wiped sweat from beneath his cap and looked up toward the sun. "Serves us right for tryin' to hold a baseball game with five people."
Bo rested his baseball bat on his shoulder, pointing to the sky. "I'm gonna send that ball so high up they'll be lookin' for it in Heaven."
"Are you gonna shut up and hit the ball?" Luke asked.
"Are you gonna throw it?"
Luke did, in fact, throw it, to which it smacked against Bo's hip, hard enough to leave a bruise. "Ow! Luke, I wasn't ready!" He threw the ball back to him and Luke caught it.
"You gonna hit the ball or what?"
"Just throw it."
Luke rolled his eyes and again, he threw the ball. Bo swung with the bat and in less than a second the ball was gone, sailing up toward the road and just barely missing an approaching car. A car that just so happened to belong to one Rosco P. Coltrane.
The Duke boys exchanged a glance and immediately took off toward their car.
"Uh, we'll catch up with y'all later!" Bo called, slipping in through the General Lee's window.
"I'll meet y'all at the Boar's Nest!" Cooter called back, watching the stock car speed away.
The deputies, however, stood forlorn and confused, coughing on the cloud of dirt left behind from the General Lee's hasty departure.
"Man, look at 'em runnin'!" Cletus exclaimed. He looked at Enos. "What're they runnin' for? Somebody chasin' 'em or somethin'?"
Enos shrugged and the two of them looked back up the road at the sound of a siren to see Rosco's car roaring past. They immediately jumped and started toward their own cars.
"Shoot, we're chasin' 'em!" Cletus yelled, holding onto his hat as he ran.
And within a moment, the deputies were gone.
Losing the sheriff wasn't hard in the slightest, and the deputies had made a show of giving up right quick under the pretense of conflicted loyalties. In other words, they were torn between upholding the law and remaining loyal to their friends: the Dukes. Rosco, on the other hand, had never claimed to nor shown to have lost any love over the Duke boys. But every now and then a subtle miracle would happen. And the boys knew who to thank.
But now their affairs had been moved to the Boar's Nest. Where Daisy waited tables and tended bar. Owned by the big man of Hazzard County, but is not exactly reputed to be a prestigious establishment. If one were to stick around, they'd hear when Boss Hogg was to complain about the 'unemployed rabble' cluttering his building. When in reality it was just the place for the rough-and-tumble types. There was at least one brawl every week.
Boss Hogg saved costs on decor and furniture by emploring the use of glue-lots of it-and discounted furniture bought from a manufacturer.
If you look closely, you'll notice that nine out of ten tables and chairs have warped legs or backs, hence them bein' discounted. Others may have a few pieces missin' here and there. All part of the bargain.
These weren't without fault, though. A cheap chair worked in a bind in the event it was getting broken right across your teeth. It hurt less when they could break apart upon impact.
When they arrived, they found that the Boar's Nest parking lot was nearly full. Luckily, they were able to steal a spot up front from a departing sedan and parked the General Lee in front of the door. Luke climbed out almost immediately but Bo lingered for a moment to check his teeth in the rearview mirror. Even in an establishment such as this, he didn't favor walking in with food in his teeth. Or anything in his teeth, really. It had to do partially with the fact that he knew if he wanted anything badly enough, all he had to do was smile. He didn't pack fifty pounds of orthodontics for five years (from fifth grade to the end of his freshman year) for teeth that would get him laughed out of a bar in five minutes.
A pearly-white grin flashed back at him in his reflection. Straight too and little imperfection. The only exception being that one bottom tooth that had been chipped a couple of years ago during football. After taking a cleat to the face, he supposed he should consider himself lucky to not be missing the tooth entirely, or maybe more. But God created helmets for a reason.
He climbed out of the car with a graceful air, Luke looking at him from the front door of the Boar's Nest. The older Duke was rolling his eyes.
"You take too long just to get out of the car," he said.
There was another mark for Luke's 'Survival 101' guide. He grumbled every now and then about survival instincts and efficiency in life-or-death situations. Growing up, he'd always been kind of an outdoor man, but ever since the Marines, that particular aspect of his personality had been turned into some kind of intense survival training that he liked to put on his younger cousins on occasion.
"Ain't my fault you don't care what you look like," Bo replied with a sneer and a light toss of his hair.
"You spend so much time lookin' at yourself in the mirror, you wouldn't see someone comin' up behind you with a metal pipe."
"Why d'you gotta make everythin' so morbid, huh? This's why I get more dates than you. Lighten up a little, let's have some fun tonight."
"Sure," Luke said, holding out his hand and making eye contact with Bo, "give me the keys."
Bo rolled his eyes. "Fine." He tossed the keys to his cousin. "Nice to know you're drivin' home tonight."
Bo winked and disappeared inside the Boar's Nest. Luke pocketed the keys to the General Lee and walked in after him.
The two of them were quick to find their way to the bar through the crowded room. There wasn't much scenery that Bo enjoyed more though. Attention was something he'd never shied from. Hell, he thrived in it. The world was his stage and his life a performance. And he enjoyed a good audience every now and then. Barroom brawls were his chance to show off. He found that if there was one thing the ladies liked more than seeing their men bloody and out of breath, it was taking a handkerchief to their bleeding noses and telling them how tough they were. Even if it didn't make sense to him, if it worked, it worked.
And if it weren't for Luke's crippling sense of responsibility, maybe he'd have a little fun too, for his own sake. Bo figured he could tell his cousin a hundred times to relax and Luke would try but never strayed from that unwavering straight-laced shtick. Bo thought he was being dramatic. He acted as if he was holding him back. Which he didn't understand. Separate, Luke seemed just fine and able to let loose. But as far as Bo was concerned, whenever they were together like this, his cousin always assumed the prospect of responsibility. It hadn't always been that way, but as of late, that's how nights like these often operated. And he was getting sick of it.
The two of them leaned against the bar, watching other patrons through the hazy barroom. Luke ordered them two beers and tossed a five-dollar bill onto the counter. Bo grinned as he saw Daisy coming up to the bar, a serving tray tucked under her arm. There was a crease between her brows and she seemed annoyed at the very least.
"Well hey there, Daisy. How's your shift goin'?" Bo asked.
"Well, it was goin' fine until those couple of loafers over at table five walked in. They've been givin' me a hard time all night, and if I wasn't so well-mannered I'd dent this tray over their heads," Daisy said, letting the serving tray clatter onto the bar top. "How was your day?"
Bo shrugged. "Oh, y'know, one thing after the other. You get caught in one of Rosco's speed traps, you've been caught in 'em all. We played a little baseball if that's what you're wonderin'."
"I think we oughta keep an eye on them guys, don't you think Bo?" Luke asked.
"Yes sir, I think we should."
Daisy stopped them. "Hold on now, I can take care of myself. I don't need y'all scarin' all my tips away neither. If either of 'em get too handsy, I'll handle it."
Bo smiled down at her and handed her back her serving tray. "Better keep this handy then."
Daisy swatted him with it, the tray giving its little cry of dented aluminum. She walked behind the bar to pour beer into mugs and Bo looked to Luke. The older Duke's gaze was transfixed on a table not too far away where two rowdy patrons were talking it up and flicking their cigarette ashes onto the tablecloth instead of into the ashtray. If Boss Hogg was there and had seen them do this, he'd probably throw them out. Because one thing he couldn't get at a discounted rate was tablecloths.
"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"
Luke's gaze didn't leave the pair at the table. "Probably not."
"No fight?" Bo asked disappointedly.
"I didn't say that."
"So what's the hold-up? You know how it is. Some creep gives Daisy a hard time, we stomp 'em."
"No, we just gotta wait. Wait until they do somethin' worth our while. Then we'll come down on 'em."
The younger Duke stifled a laugh.
"Don't even start makin' jokes."
Daisy came back out from behind the bar again with her tray loaded up, taking drinks to their respective tables. As she served table five, setting a mug each in front of the two men and taking the empty ones, the man nearest her grabbed her wrist.
Bo heard Luke set his beer down on the counter behind them.
Daisy was looking down at the hand clamped around her wrist, as if in disbelief that it was there.
"Say, darlin'," the man said, voice slicker than wet pig shit, "how'd you like to come by my place later?"
"Not at all, and I'd appreciate it if you let go of me," Daisy said, her voice cool and even. She was fixing the man with a hard stare and he was starting to squirm under her intense gaze. He slowly released his hold on her wrist and Daisy stood straighter, looking down at him. Or rather, on him. "And if y'all wanna go ahead and close out, that's fine by me."
"Sure, we'll close," said the man on the other side of the table. He shifted in his chair to retrieve his wallet. He pulled out a twenty and handed it to Daisy. "Bring me the change and the receipt, we'll finish our beers and get outta here."
Daisy nodded and took the money up to the till. As she passed Bo and Luke, she muttered to them, "Told you."
When the difference and the receipt were retrieved, she made her way back to the table to deliver it. And what happened next put a screeching halt to the night. Within a moment, the man who had taken hold of Daisy's wrist not a moment before stuck his foot out. Daisy hit the floor hard enough to get bruised and only had enough time to scoot out of the way before the table was being flipped over and Bo and Luke were on the other two men like chickens on June bugs.
Daisy looked up just in time to see Luke duck out of the way of one man's fist and then deliver a similar blow to his stomach. The man doubled over and Luke took the opportunity to hit him in the face. A retaliation came reflexively and a quick fist plowed into Luke's mouth, then another clipped his ear. Luke turned and swung back, catching the man's nose. There was a slight pause as the man shook it off, and in that moment, Luke was suddenly aware of someone coming up behind him and putting their arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides. As it turned out, the loafers had friends. And that put Luke at two versus one.
Not far away, Bo was slowly advancing toward the man in front of him. He kept his body low, hands out and threatening.
"Come on. Come on! You scared, boy?" Bo taunted.
Within a moment, they were both lunging at each other in a tangle of limbs, grabbing faces and hair. Bo went down with the man trying to snake an arm around his neck. However, the man's arm missed its mark, coming into close proximity with Bo's mouth. Without a second thought, Bo bit down on his arm, as hard as his jaws would allow. The man let out a scream of pain and immediately started flailing.
Meanwhile, Luke leaned back against the man behind him and kicked the one in front of him, sending him to the ground. The other's grip now loosened, Luke drove his elbow up into the man's ribs, grabbing him by the arm, and throwing him to the ground. It was then that a third came out, wielding a broken chair leg. Luke quickly ducked and swept the man's leg. And as the third man was finally sent sprawling on the barroom floor, Luke exhaled and stood, stretching with his arms above his head, satisfied when he heard a pop from his spine.
He looked over to where Bo was still on the floor, trapped underneath the flailing man.
"Bo, spit that out, you don't know where it's been," he said.
Bo did, releasing the man from his teeth and spitting. The man scrambled away, holding his injured arm. The skin hadn't been broken but Bo had bitten him hard enough to leave bruises. The others were standing up now too. A band of four low-lives that had resided in the bar. For coyotes, yellow-eyed and snarling. They were exactly the kind of men that Boss Hogg didn't mind keeping out of his fine establishment.
For a still moment, everyone stood there looking at each other tensely. Bo was grinning but it seemed as though it may have been more like he was baring his teeth. A few feet away, Luke coughed and spat into his hand, expelling the fragment of a tooth from his mouth. And with his gaze averted, he hadn't caught sight of one of the men moving behind Bo. Not soon enough to warn him, that is. It wasn't until Daisy's cry of surprise that he looked up to see the man with the broken chair leg swinging it to connect with the base of his cousin's skull.
There was a slow, spiraling moment as they watched Bo's body jerk from the force and his eyes rolled back. He fell ungracefully, first hitting his knees and then falling flat onto the floor. Luke wasted no time rushing across the room and hitting his knees beside him, turning him over.
Daisy stared down at her cousins, gaze darting up toward the four men who were now shuffling away. The one she had tried to deliver change to met her eyes.
"Here's your tip," he called.
He flicked a coin in her direction and she caught it. When she looked back up, all four had disappeared. She walked over to Luke, kicking an overturned chair out of the way. Bo was starting to come around and Luke looked up at her.
"They gone?" he asked.
Daisy nodded and held up the coin the man had tossed her. A single, shiny nickel. "Lousy tippers too."
"We'll catch 'em next time." He turned back to Bo and tapped him on the face. "Hey, Bo, you all right?"
The Boar's Nest floor was sticky and he could feel that it was dirty and grimy as all hell. But it was cold against the throbbing pain in his head. Even as he opened his eyes, the lights were too bright and Luke was too close and his ears were ringing. He groaned and tried to sit up, hand going to the back of his head. Luke's hands were on his shoulders to steady him and he waited a moment for the room to stop spinning. He felt like he was going to be sick.
"Hey, you all right?" Luke was asking him.
He supposed it probably wasn't his first time asking this but that was the only time he actually caught it.
"What happened?" Bo asked, inspecting his hand for blood as he brought it away from the back of his head.
"You got somethin' broke over your head. Try not to move around too much," Luke explained, looking for blood too.
Bo scoffed. "I wasn't even lookin' in the mirror this time."
"No, but you were sure grinnin' like a fool if I've ever seen one. Lean forward."
Bo did so, putting his hands on his knees. "So what?"
"You always get too cocky and you know it." He felt Luke prodding his shirt collar and parting the blonde curls at the back of his head. "Damn, he got you good."
Bo brought a hand back to where Luke's was, touching a finger to the back of his neck where it was now warm and wet.
Daisy, now with a cold and damp towel, crouched next to them as well. Luke took the towel from her and let her see their cousin's wound as well. He instructed Bo to hold the towel to it, which he did.
"I'd call Doc Appleby as soon as you get home, I'm sure you've got a concussion, Bo," Daisy said.
Bo groaned again and looked up at her. "At least."
Luke grabbed Bo's arms, pulling him up as the two of them stood. He watched him, making sure he was steady on his feet and wouldn't fall. Bo removed the towel from his neck, finding it now stained red.
He shook his head as he handed it back to Daisy. "Part of me hopes we see them fellers again. I think I'd like to break a chair across the teeth of whoever's responsible for this."
Luke nodded to the door, putting a hand on his cousin's back. "C'mon, let's go. You ain't in no shape to stay out."
Bo nodded in agreement and the two of them left, bidding goodbye to Daisy.
When they arrived home, Jesse was still awake, reading in the living room. And seeing his boys home this early only served to worry him, especially when one came in holding the back of his head. He quickly set his book down and went out into the kitchen just in time to watch his oldest spit blood into the sink.
"What in blue blazes happened to you two?" Jesse asked, halfway between worry and fury.
Luke turned, wiping his mouth. "Couple of guys at the Boar's Nest were givin' Daisy a hard time so me and Bo tried to step in but we bit off a little more than we could chew."
It was then that Bo reappeared from his trip to the bathroom. He stood a few feet away brushing his teeth, one hand resting on his hip with his shirt unbuttoned. "I bit. He chewed."
"Uncle Jesse, check Bo's head. You think it's worth callin' Doc Appleby over at this hour?" Luke asked.
Bo walked over to the sink to spit toothpaste and kept his head bowed for Jesse to see his endured injury. Jesse inspected it with a wary eye, parting his hair the same way Luke had. After a moment, he sighed.
"Well, it's stopped bleedin'. You feelin' dizzy, son?" he asked.
Bo straightened up and touched the back of his head tenderly. "Little bit."
"You got home well enough, I say we call him first thing in the morning."
Both boys nodded. "Works for me," Bo said.
They went off to bed.
The town of Hazzard was quiet save for the black Trans Am pulling up outside of the hotel. And the sinister, white gleam of its headlights shining down the street in the early morning hours provided a means of which to see the driver. A man that, when he got out, stood at least six feet, four inches tall, and was dressed head to toe in brown and his fingers were banded with gold, jeweled rings.