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Title: Before the Dawn Rating: Teen Status: COMPLETE Challenge Fic: Christmas Challenge/ Cliche' Challenge Tags: Parody/Mystery/Hurt-Comfort/Drama/Angst *Warning, Domestic Violence* Summary: In this parody of "It's a Wonderful Life", Daisy is shown how the lives of those around her - and even Hazzard itself, would have been different if she'd never been born. Seeing movie not required (but it makes it a lot more fun) Permanent Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7657579/1/Before-the-Dawn-Christmas-Challenge-submission Author's Note: This story is for the "Cliche' Challenge" and the "Christmas Challenge" from HazzardNet What else could be more cliche'd than a parody of the timeless classic "It's a Wonderful Life"? In this case, Daisy gets to see how the lives of those around her - and even Hazzard itself, would be different if she'd never been born. This story takes place the Christmas after the episode, "Enos and Daisy's Wedding" in season 7. Having seen the movie isn't required to understand the story. Chapter 1 "Looking through my window, I seem to recognize all the people passing by, but I am alone, and far from home and nobody knows me..." -Opeth Daisy gazed out the window of the Boars' Nest as the last two patrons shuffled to their truck. The snow was falling faster, blanketing the parking lot and whiting out the road beyond it. The truck pulled away in a cloud of exhaust, leaving only Dixie and Hazzard #2 in the lot. The cold of the window made her shiver and she rubbed the goose-pimped flesh on her arms. It had been a busy Christmas Eve, though she often wondered why anyone would rather be at a bar than home with their families. She supposed everyone had their own priorities. Right now, hers was shutting down before the roads became too slick to get back to the farm. She sensed Enos come and stand beside her. "You sure you don't want me to drive you home, Daisy? It wouldn't be no trouble." She turned and gave him a smile. "No, I'll be fine. You go on and get outta here before it gets worse." Enos frowned, betraying his worry, and glanced uncertainly around the empty bar before picking his hat up from the counter. At the door, he hesitated and turned back towards her. "You'll call me if you need anything, won't you?" "I will, I promise. You're coming for dinner tomorrow, right?" Since his father had died in 1967, Enos had only missed one Christmas with them. "I wouldn't miss it," he replied, flashing her a bright smile. "Alright then, I guess I'll head on home. I'll see you tomorrow." "Night, Enos." There was nothing further as he left, and anyone who didn't know the two of them would never guess they'd almost been married earlier that year. Enos had not mentioned the incident, and Daisy hadn't pressed the issue. Eventually, their relationship had slipped quietly back into the holding pattern that neither seemed keen on changing. Daisy had begun to wonder if maybe he'd finally come to his senses. What man in his right mind would want to marry a girl who had never said she loved him? Not that she...didn't... exactly. There had always been something special between them as long as she could remember, but he'd become shy and reserved as the years passed by - far removed from the boy who had been her constant companion in childhood. It wasn't the first time she'd felt guilty about stringing him along. Enos seemed blissfully unaware that he was one of the most eligible bachelors in Hazzard County, and sometimes she wondered if it weren't for her if he'd be home with a wife and family. Instead, he waited patiently for a love she didn't know if she could ever give him. Perhaps he would have been better off if they'd never met each other in the first place. ********** In the office, Boss counted down the money for the day from the Boars' Nest while Rosco looked gleefully over his shoulder. "How much did ya' rake in today, Boss? Sure looks like a lot...say, I sure could use my fifty percent right about now." Boss' chubby fingers flew through the bills without ceasing as he cast a doubtful look at the Sheriff. "Your fifty percent of fifty percent of my fifty percent, you mean." "Well, Boss, you know, being that today is Christmas Eve and all, I figured that I might be able to have just a tiny smidgen more than that..." He grabbed innocently at a twenty dollar bill that was just about to fall off the table, but Boss' hand smacked his out of the way before he could so much as touch it. "Mama's been wanting a new record player." "Oh, I've got better plans for this Christmas." "Better plans? You ain't going to cut the orphans funds again this year?" "Huh?" He shook his head. "No, no, no, Rosco. I've got something better than that by far. What would you say to repossessing the Dukes' farm this Christmas...once and for all?" Rosco smiled rapturously, but it was quickly replaced by confusion. "Uh, Boss...how in the blue blazes are you gonna do that? Jesse ain't got a payment due till this coming week." "Yeah, but I know for a fact that he ain't gonna be able to make that payment." "Uh...if you don't mind me asking, Boss...how do ya' know something like that? It's been a busy week. Daisy'll have more than enough to cover the mortgage, specially with the dipstick giving her half his paycheck in tips," he added, rolling his eyes. Boss pointed to the register till. "You see all that cash there?" "In there?" Rosco looked longingly at it. "I sure do." "No, you don't," he snapped. "I don't?" "Nope. You don't...'cause that dang Daisy Duke just stole five hundred dollars of it!" He counted out five hundred dollars and shoved it in his pocket. "Ooo! That's brillant, Boss!" Rosco's happiness faded slightly. "Uh...but Boss...on Christmas Eve?" He'd never been a fan of any Duke, but...well...it was Daisy. What little conscience he had that hadn't been scrubbed away from working with J.D. Hogg was reminding him that it was still there. Boss peered up at him through narrow eyes. "You want me to tell Lulu what you really think of her cooking?" "Ooo...jeet! That's just...that's plain cruel, Boss." *********** Daisy paid little attention when Rosco and Boss came out of the office and into the bar. She was finishing up sweeping and then she'd be done for the day. "Daisy Duke," started Rosco, "for shame, for shame...Everybody knows your name." She looked up, annoyed. "What are you going on about, Rosco? Ever'body knows you've got a lot more to be shameful for than me." "Oh, but see, Daisy," said Boss, "that's where you're wrong." Daisy's heart began to beat faster. She'd been around long enough to tell when Boss Hogg was cooking up one of his schemes, and she had a bad feeling she was right smack dab in the middle of one. "What d' you mean, Boss?" she asked, warily. "Well, I just finished counting the register, and do you know what didn't find?" "What?" "I didn't find $500 that should've been there." Daisy looked at him as though he'd sprouted another head. "Boss, that's ridiculous! You know I'd never take any money outta here." She pointed to him. "More than likely it's gotten stashed in the wrong pocket." He covered the pocket of his coat defensively. "Why, I never! You were the only one working today, weren't you?" "You know I was, Boss," she said, angrily. "Though...you know," he said, innocently, "I, in the gracious spirit of Christmas, am gonna give you a choice." She glared at him, fully aware that she was being set-up and that there was nothing in the world she could do about it. "What's that, Boss?" "You can either pay me restitution, including banking fees and such, to the tune of $750..." "Boss!" she seethed, "You know good and well none of us Dukes have that kind of money!" "Well, in that case, I might be persuaded to take over the farm as payment in full." Daisy's eyes glittered with tears. "I never thought you'd stoop so low...to be doing this to us Dukes on Christmas Eve. Of all the low down, dirty..." "Now, now, Daisy," he interrupted, "there ain't no need to spoil your Christmas over it. I'm gonna give you till the day after to come up with the money." "Boss..." "Oh, and another thing...you're fired! Rosco, escort this riff-raff off the premises." He waved in her general direction and turned back towards the office. Rosco watched him go, feeling badly for Daisy, but determined to go through with it nonetheless. She turned her attention to the Sheriff. "Rosco, you know it ain't true." The pleading in her voice nearly broke his heart, but he looked away from her. "I'm sorry, Daisy. I...I really am, but there ain't nothing I can do." She grabbed her coat. "You're the law, Rosco," she reminded him. "You could if you wanted to." ************* The snow cascaded down upon Daisy, as she climbed into Dixie with a heavy heart. She'd gotten only a mile down the road before the shock of what Boss had done settled in. She pressed on through her tears, wanting to be home as soon as she could, and tried to focus on the road through the whirling flakes. Suddenly, a deer bounded in front of her. Her brakes locked when she swerved, and there was a violent shudder as Dixie hit a tree and died. In shock, Daisy rested her forehead against the steering wheel and wept until she felt she had no more tears inside her. "Dear Lord," she prayed, "I just don't know what to do. Sometimes I think everybody would just have been better off if I'd never been born." A knock on her window nearly scared her senseless. She wiped off the fogged glass and a boy, perhaps twelve or thirteen, peered back at her from the other side. Her first thought was that she'd hit him as she rolled down her window. "Oh my gosh! Are you alright?" She craned her head around as far as she could, but there was nothing but the deserted lane and the snow. "I'm fine," he said, "cold though. Say, would'ja mind if I sat in your car for a little while?" She looked down at him and couldn't help but smile. "What are you doing out in this kind of weather? Hop on in." He scuttled around the Jeep and a moment later opened the passenger side door and climbed in. Daisy flipped on the dome light and saw a kid with carrot-red hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He beamed back at her, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. She figured he must be a run-away from the Sheridan Orphan's Home, but that was a good ten miles away. "Alright, mister," she said. "I'll tell you what. I won't take you back to the orphanage tonight, but tomorrow I'm gonna have to. I'm sure they're worried sick about you, out in this storm and all." "Oh, you don't have to do that, " he said, "I didn't come from the orphanage." "Oh really?" she asked, doubtfully. "Where'd ya' come from then, and I'll drop you home. That is if I didn't wreck Dixie too much." She looked out over the hood, but couldn't see the grill from inside. "Up there," he said, pointing towards the roof. Daisy laughed at the joke. "Heaven, huh? Well, I'm sure we've got room for an angel for one night at the farm." She opened the Jeep's door. "I'm just gonna see how bad the damage is. I'll be right back." She closed the door behind her, and walked around to the front of the Jeep, noticing that the snow had completely stopped. There was a large tree in front and Dixie's front bumper was just touching it. For all the crunching sounds and bumps, she couldn't find a scratch of damage on it. Confused, she got back in and shut the door. "That's funny, " she said to herself, "I coulda sworn I'd hit that tree..." "You did hit that tree." "No, I couldn't have. There's not a scratch anywhere." "Well, now there's not." Daisy shook her head. "What was your name?" "I don't have one." "Fine, you don't have to tell me. Listen, I've had a rough day, and I just want to get home. I'd really appreciate it if you didn't play any games with me." "Games?" he looked up at her, confused. "I'm not sure what you mean, Miss Daisy." "I just... How do you know my name?" He smiled. "Oh, I know everything about you," he explained. "Otherwise I guess I wouldn't be much help to you, would I?" "You know, I think I'll go ahead and call the orphanage as soon as we get home 'cause I gotta tell you, you're scaring me just a little bit." "I'm awful sorry about that," he said. "It's probably because I'm new at this." "New at what?" "At being an angel, of course." Daisy stared at him for a long moment. "I must've bumped my head or something." She turned the key and to her relief the engine roared to life. Carefully, she backed out of the shallow ditch, put the Jeep in drive, and headed off down Mill Road towards the farm. As much as she loved kids, a boy with no name claiming to be an angel was at the bottom of the list of things she felt like dealing with. She'd feed him, let Uncle Jesse give him the "grow up and make something of yourself" talk, and then drop him back at the orphanage...or the psych ward at the hospital. They were almost to the farm when the boy spoke again. "Where are you going?" "Home." "If you're going to the old Duke Place, there won't be anybody there." "I don't know what you're talking about. Uncle Jesse and the boys stayed home today. Now, listen, you'd better stop with this 'angel' nonsense before you get there. Uncle Jesse don't hold with making light of the Good Book or anything in it," she said, longing for her cozy kitchen. "We're almost there. Just right around the next curve. See..." An eerie feeling crawled up her spine as she turned off on the drive down towards the house. No smoke swirled up from the chimney, and neither Uncle Jesse's pickup or the General Lee were anywhere to be seen. The closer she got, the more wrong everything seemed. Daisy's hands shook as she opened the door and climbed out. It could barely be called the same house that she'd left only that morning. Most of the window panes in the front had been smashed, and the unbroken ones were grimy and dark. A front post by the door had splintered, causing the porch to sag to one side. The front door hung open on broken hinges, and even the wooden steps that Bo and Luke had built were gone, replaced by the rocks that had served the same purpose before that. She swore they were even the same rocks... She felt as though she were walking through a dream, her legs taking her forward of their own accord towards the porch. "Uncle Jesse!" she called. "Luke...Bo...?" She ran up the steps and into what should have been the kitchen. The house was gutted and desolate. Nothing remained - no stove, no table, even the cabinets and counter-tops were missing. Where the floorboards had not rotted through, puddles rain water stood, slowly rotting the wood that was left. Chunks of sheet-rock hung from the ceiling, water-logged and covered in black mold. "Uncle Jesse!" she cried again, but the only answer was the wind, keening softly through the ruined farmhouse. "Where is everyone?" She couldn't grasp it at all. She sank to her knees on the kitchen floor. Remembering the strange boy and his uncanny prediction, she turned to find him standing in the doorway "What's happened here? How did you know..." "That's what I've been trying to tell you, Miss Daisy," he said, softly. "They aren't here." "This is a dream," she whispered. "A crazy, horrible dream, and I need to wake up." She closed her eyes and concentrated, giving her arm a painful pinch. "It's not a dream," he said. "Your uncle died October 18, 1968, when his car flipped over the ravine on Ridge-Runner Road while he was coming home from a bootlegging run. Deputy Ledbetter was chasing him, and his foot slipped off the brake at Dead Man's Corner. Luke and Bo became wards of the state and never saw each other or Hazzard again." Tears sprang to her eyes. There was only one explanation for what was happening to her. "I hurt myself pretty bad when I hit the tree, didn't I?" Her heart ached for her family, who must have found her dead or dying on Christmas Eve. Was this what a coma was like? The thing was, if this was a dream...it was so real. She could feel the roughness of the wooden planks beneath her hands, the cold sting of the wind against her cheeks... The boy took a deep breath. Humans seemed to have a way of not believing things, even if they were right in front of them. "You're not hurt, and you didn't hit your head. Please, try to calm down, and I'll do my best to explain." Daisy watched him suspiciously, waiting for him to continue. "After you swerved and hit the tree, you told God that you thought that everyone would be better off if you'd never been born. So, here it is..." "Here what is?" "What the world would be like if you'd never been born." The boy's blue eyes met hers. "On that day in October of 1968, you were sick in bed with a fever. Your uncle asked Moses Davenport to take his run that night so that he could stay home with you because you were more important to him than moonshine." Daisy remembered that night, and how Uncle Jesse had brought her crushed ice to eat and stayed by her bed until she'd fallen asleep. How would anyone else know about that? "I had chicken-pox...," she murmured. "But because you were never born, Jesse Duke lost his life that day." She jumped up suddenly. "No...no...this is all a trick!" She ran down from the porch and back to the Jeep. "Miss Daisy, where are you going?" the boy called after her. "I'm going to see Rosco and give him a piece of my mind! This time he and Boss have gone too far, and as for you... I've had enough of your shuck-an'-jive, kid!" She sped away in Dixie, as the boy raised his eyes up towards the sky. "She's a stubborn one, alright." Continued in Chapter 2: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7657579/2/Before-the-Dawn-Christmas-Challenge-submission

Title: The Story of Us Rating: Teen Status: COMPLETE Tags: Adventure/Hurt-Comfort/Grief/ANGST/CANON FRIENDLY Characters: Involves all characters. Summary: The story of Enos and Daisy...from the beginning. Pre-Series, Canon friendly. Backstory for the original series Permanent Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6994305/1/The-Story-of-Us Author's Note: This fanfiction is set up as a series of chronologically connected stories - so each chapter is longer than a typical chapter would be. There are sometimes several years between stories. The first story begins when Enos is 10, the last story when he is almost 20. Chapter 1: Days of Innocence Summer, 1962 Life in the Blue Ridge mountains had changed little since the Scotch-Irish had settled in over a hundred and fifty years before, bringing with them their customs and traditions, along with a close knit sense of community with a distaste for outside interference. The soil in the foothills was rocky and unsuited to crops, so like their ancestors from the old world, the residents of northwestern Hazzard County made do with what they'd been given. Making moonshine was more than a tradition, it was a way of survival, and the hills and ridges were dotted with stills, well hidden from the tax collectors that had come calling ever since 1933 when Prohibition had ended and the tax on whiskey had begun. Being a ridge-runner wasn't an occupation Otis Strate was especially proud of, being in all other respects a fine, law-abiding citizen, but it put food on the table and in these parts it wasn't fit to quibble over the legality of something his family had done since before they'd come to the New World. His moonshine was some of the best, too, and he still made it like it was supposed to be, without all the shortcuts most of the kids were trying – the one's that made you blind or set you one foot in the grave with the first swig. He himself didn't drink, not anymore. Age, wisdom, and seeing one too many bootleggers flip their cars over the ridge had scared him off of it except for medicinal purposes. Today they'd had company; Otis' sister-in-law, Mary, had come by, but things had quickly escalated between the two sisters and Otis and his son, Enos, had escaped to the relative peace of the porch. "Pa', what's Momma and aunt Mary fussing about?" For ten year old Enos, hearing his ma' yelling at someone was a regular occurrence, though like as not it usually tended to be himself or his father. "It ain't your business, son. 'Sides, you're too young to understand if I told you." Enos looked up from the stick he was trying unsuccessfully to whittle into anything recognizable. "I ain't a baby no more, Pa'," he complained, sourly. Otis Strate just laughed and ruffled the boy's hair. "Don't try to grow up too fast, Enos. It ain't as much fun as you think it is. Your ma's just grating over the fact that your aunt's sparking a revenuer." "Huh?" "John Mayfield's courting your aunt." "Oh..." Mr. Mayfield was the youngest revenuer they'd had up here in a while, Enos had heard his father talking to Moses Davenport about it just a few weeks before. His parents had even had him up for supper, a fact which confused him to no end. While he seemed like a nice enough guy, everybody knew his daddy ran shine, and having the local revenuer over at their house just seemed to him like offering the foxes a couple chickens for their trouble of getting locked out of the hen house. He'd told his father that, to which he'd merely answered that you caught more flies with honey than with vinegar, and it was always best to be on good terms with your enemies than not. The debate inside took on a new pitch and less than a minute later, the screen door slammed open, whacking the side of the house with a resounding 'smack' as Mary Tribble, his mother's younger sister, stormed out of the house, across the porch, and down the steps where Enos and his father sat. She turned around, her face flushed in anger. "You just stay out of it, Agnes! You think everything and everyone's your business, well I'm not – not anymore! I love him and he loves me, and I don't care what his job is. Maybe he'll get me outta these God-forsaken hills!" Ages Strate wasn't moved. "Don't you come calling on us when he turns you in, Mary. All he's after is your virtue and finding out when Otis is running again. Mark my words, sister." "If momma heard you talking like that, she'd let you have it!" "Momma ain't nothing but bones and worm food fifteen years come next spring, and I reckon her spirit don't need to be bothered with the likes of you," she said. "Now get outta here." Mary turned and left and Agnes Strate's eyes settled on Enos. "Enos, can't you do nothing without making a mess? Get them shavings off the steps right now!" "Yes, ma'am," he sighed, brushing them from the step into the grass, relieved to see her turn inside once more, closing the screen door behind her. Otis watched his wife as she disappeared back into the house, feeling for the boy who seemed to find more of her ire than he deserved. "There's a shine-moon tonight," he told Enos, who's eyes immediately brightened. A Shine-moon was his fathers word for a full-moon and it meant he'd be going on a long run overnight. "You're taking me with you, right Pa'? To Aunt Lavinia's? Please, I swear I'll stay outta trouble." His father laughed. "How is it that two kids can find more scrapes to get into? Tell me again why you dyed Lavinia's best table cloth black?" "We didn't aim to dye it black," muttered Enos. "Daisy said she had a recipe fer invisible ink and we needed something to try it on." "How in heaven's name would you think that motor oil, kerosene, and tar could make any kind of ink, let alone invisible?" Enos shrugged. "It was her idea." "That ain't no excuse, Enos," he said, sternly. "She's two years younger than you, and you oughta know better. Cost me a run paying Lavinia for it, and you've still got extra chores to get done to pay me for it. Which, if you're wanting to go tonight, you'd best be doing." "Yes, sir." He scrambled off the porch and headed around back. Enos' parents were as different as night and day, and just the thought of letting his father down was enough to make him sorry enough to never do it again. Besides that, if he was on bad terms with his father, he'd make him stay at home with his ma' when he had a run instead of dropping him off at the Duke farm, and that was just about the worst punishment he could imagine. Uncle Jesse and Aunt Lavinia weren't blood related to the Strates, but Jesse and his father ran shine together, along with Moses Davenport. The couple had no children of their own, but a round of unfortunate circumstances had brought them three cousins to raise; Luke who was a few months older than Enos, Daisy who was eight, and Bo who'd just turned three. Lavinia, after noticing Agnes Strate's temper and harshness with her son, had taken Enos under her wing as though he were one of the family, and the happiest times of his young life had been spent gathered around the Duke's kitchen table. Though Luke was closer to his age, most of Enos' time was spent with Daisy, either fishing at Hazzard pond or getting into some sort of trouble. As an only child living in the middle of moonshine territory, Enos had few friends, and Daisy was like a sister to him. He thought the sun rose and set on the girl and, unlike her cousins, he was usually game for any idea she might come up with. The sun was already beginning to set when Enos climbed into his father's 1951 Hornet and they made their way south and then east, down the dusty dirt roads of Hazzard towards the Duke farm. It was a good twenty minute drive at the speed limit. Enos' father never sped with him in the car, much to the boy's chagrin, nor was he allowed in the car when he was hauling 'shine. Otis Strate had bigger dreams for his son than being a back-woods moonshiner. ********* John Mayfield was no stranger to the Blue Ridge Mountains. His mother had died when he was too little to remember, and his father had been a violent man who'd drank himself to death at the ripe old age of twenty-eight, when Johnny was only six. It had relegated him an orphaned ward of Macon County, North Carolina, just across the Georgia border. He'd dreamed of being a cop since he was little and he'd graduated from the Police Academy two years ago in 1960. Times were tough in the area, though, and without the pull of family influence, no one had wanted to hire him except for the Internal Revenue Service, which was always putting out calls for new recruits. He'd been naïve when he'd taken the job, not not fully understanding what it meant to be a revenuer, but he soon found out just how deep the split between the mountain folk and the IRS really was. It hadn't even been easy working with the local law. Hazzard County's Sheriff "Butch" Harris didn't like to rile people who he didn't see breaking the law and had even gone so far as to clue in some of the ridge-runners as to when he would be passing through. Johnny wouldn't have minded so much if the IRS hadn't set a quota on his head, but like as not, they had. The kids who ran moonshine were an easy catch - inexperienced and looking to make a quick buck, but the big hauls were done by the older folks – the ones with mouths to feed and reputations to uphold. The thing was, the men he really needed to catch were about some of the nicest people he'd ever met in his life. Otis Strate and Jesse Duke, and Moses Davenport to a lesser degree, were the biggest and best bootleggers around. They had more tricks up their sleeves than a rodeo clown, and their cars could outrun his with their foot only halfway to the floor. The only thing good that had ever come of going after them had been meeting Mary. She'd been running interference, cutting his car off in mid-chase with the old 'pickup-dying-in-the-road' trick. He'd gone to move her out of the way, but two hours later had still found them sitting in the middle of the road talking, and he'd completely forgotten what he was doing there in the first place. If he thought being a revenuer was bad, he was completely unprepared for the fallout of courting a moonshiner's daughter. Several times he'd come home to his apartment at the boarding house in town to find nasty letters slid under his door letting him know just what some of the folks thought about it. Unbeknownst to her family, he and Mary had already made plans to leave at the end of the summer. He'd asked her to marry him and she'd said 'yes' on the condition that they leave the Blue Ridge Mountains forever and never look back. She'd saved back enough from her family's 'shine business for them to move west, out where there would be work for him besides being a revenuer. He couldn't wait for the summer to end. ***************** The warm glow of the kitchen light shone through the farmhouse windows as Otis Strate pulled the car up in front. Luke and Daisy sat on the steps along with their Aunt Lavinia who was holding Bo on her lap. Enos barely had time to climb out of the car before Daisy hopped up and bounded over to him. "Hey, come on, Enos," she said, grabbing his hand, "you gotta come see what I found!" "Daisy," her aunt called, "don't go running off too far. It's getting' dark and it'll be high time for you kids to be in bed before long." "Yes ma'am," said Daisy, pulling Enos after her around the side of the house. She knelt down beside the wall and picked up a burlap bag, tied at the top. "What'cha got?" he asked. She just giggled and untied the bag. "Stick your hand in," she told him. "Daisy, if you think I'm gonna trust to stick my hand in something you tell me to, you're plum crazy." "Fine, here..." she stuck her hand into the bag and pulled out the largest bull-frog Enos had ever seen. "Pretty cool, huh? Found him over by the fence on the south 40." Enos took the frog from her and held it up, looking it over. "He's a nice looking one. What'cha gonna do with him? You know Aunt Lavinia ain't gonna let you keep him." "I thought Luke might wanna see him," she said, innocently. Enos grinned. "In the bag or his pillow?" They shared a look and ran back around the house and past her aunt and Luke, nearly knocking him over. "Hey! You two cut it out," he yelled, as the screen door slammed behind them. "And stay outta my stuff!" "Here! Here, stick him in!" giggled Daisy, holding open Luke's pillowcase. "Not like that. Here, lay it down, I don't wanna squish him." She lay the pillow back down on the bed and Enos stuck the frog at the far end, past the pillow. "Hand me the string." He tied up the end with the string from the burlap bag to keep the frog from escaping. Laughing, they made their way back through the house and out to the porch where Aunt Lavinia eyed them suspiciously. "What are you two up to?" Daisy threw her arms around her aunt and hugged her. "Aunt Lavinia, don't you trust us?" Lavinia laughed. "You, yes. Enos, yes. You and him together...no, not so much, Sweetie." She kissed her niece on the cheek and stood up. "Come on y'all, it's getting about bed time. Luke, would you help Bo?" "Yes'm," Luke took the little boy's hand. "Come on, champ." "Enos, I reckon you can take the guest room since we moved Bo into Luke's room, but mind you make the bed in the morning, dear." "Yes ma'am," he replied. They'd all settled down for the night when they heard a 'yelp' from the boys' room. "Aunt Lavinia...!" Lavinia came back down the hallway and peeked her head in the door. "What's wrong, Luke?" "They put a frog in my pillow!" Giggling could be heard coming from Daisy's room off the other side of the house. Enos had enough sense to keep quiet. "Daisy! Enos!" called Aunt Lavinia. "You two best get out here right now on the double-quick!" The two mischief makers slowly straggled out of their respective rooms to stand before the woman. "Daisy Duke, you wipe that smile off your face right this minute. Enos Strate, you're about a short stick away from staying with your ma' next run. Both of y'all are grounded tomorrow to the kitchen. I'm sure I can find something for you to put your talents to other than putting frogs in people's beds." "Yes ma'am." "Yes, Aunt Lavinia." "Alright, now back to bed with you." She watched the two children go back into their rooms before laughing quietly to herself. "Luke go and throw the poor thing outside, please." "Huh uh! I ain't picking that up!" "Oh for goodness sakes, Luke, it's just a frog." Lavinia came over to Luke's bed, picked it up, and left the room. "Poor thing," she told it, "you are a handsome bugger, though." She let it go by the barn and went back inside. ************** The rest of the week passed as any other for Enos. He'd do his chores as fast as he could in the morning so he'd be free the rest of the day. Unlike most kids, he hated summers – there was no school to take him away from home, and his father was cooking up at their still. He wasn't allowed to go with him – cooking moonshine was dangerous business and every family knew someone who'd been killed doing it. All it took was a tiny crack or leak around one of the rivets on the thump keg or any one of a hundred other problems and there'd be a hole in the ground instead of a still and another marker in the graveyard. Today was a little different. It was raining. Enos sat on the porch, drinking in the smell of the wet earth as the heavy drops drenched the parched, dry grass. His fishing pole and tackle sat next to him, and as soon as the rain tapered off he planned to go down to the river and see if he could catch anything. The fish should be biting good after the rain, and if he had to eat another supper of salt pork... Eventually the downpour ceased and he ran inside to find his father. He sat at the table, checking his books and orders using some sort of math that made Enos' head swim. "Hey pa', the rain stopped. Can I go fishing now?" Otis looked up from his papers and eyed his son warily. "I suppose, but you stay away from the river. It's libel to be flooded after the rains last night and this morning. I'd like to keep you around for awhile instead of fishing your carcass outta the Chattahoochee." "Yes sir," said Enos, grudgingly. "Sorry son. I'm sure the fishing's just fine in Miller's pond." Enos wasn't as confident. "Alright." He trudged back out to the porch, grabbed his pole and gear, and started off down the road towards the pond. **************** Enos was right...three hours later he had nothing to show for his time at the pond but a case of poison ivy when his lure got caught in a snag and he fell into a patch when the line snapped. It was a shame to have to waste such a prime fishing day on muddy ol' Miller's Pond. Maybe if he just took a peek at the river, he thought. If it looked fine, his father wouldn't have anything to worry about. 'Sides, hadn't he said to stay away from the Chattahoochee? This river was just an offshoot...the real Chattahoochee didn't start for another 50 miles to the south. Convinced his father would never know the difference anyway, Enos left the pond and started back towards the trail that would lead down to the river. He could hear it before he could see it - a low, thundering, roar that seemed to resonate through the air. He came over the hill and saw that his father had been right. The river had crested far above it's normal banks and the water that usually flowed steadily under the old L&N Railroad bridge now crashed and beat against the trestle like a living, breathing, monster. But...if he strung his line out long, he wouldn't have to get close to the bank. He took off his lure and rigged a fly, pulled out his line, and flung it expertly into the midst of the swirling muddy waters by the bridge. It wasn't ten minutes before he'd gotten a decent sized trout. He'd reeled it in and hooked it on his stringer before he noticed he wasn't alone. Startled, he took a step back from the man who approached him because, even though he recognized him as the revenuer, John Mayfield, something seemed...off. In fact, he looked like he just might of taken a swim in the river. His clothes were muddy and disheveled, and as the man staggered toward Enos, he realized he was drunk. "Hey!" said the man. "I know you...you're O..Oditis St...trates' son, ain't you, boy?" "Y...yes, sir," said Enos, taking another step back. "Y'ain't seen Mary, have you? I can't find her anywhere..." "N..no, s...sir. I ain't seen her." Enos had had enough of the freakish man with vacant eyes. Grabbing his pole, he took off running as fast as he could, all the way back home. Otis was still sitting at the table when Enos slammed the door open and shut it behind him. His father was about to remind him not to bang the door, but when he turned around and saw the expression on the boy's face, he thought something more important than slamming doors must be going on. Enos's eyes were wide with fright, his skin pale and ashen. "Son? What's wrong?" Enos found himself in a tight spot. If he told his father about Mr. Mayfield wandering around drunk at the river, his dad would know where he'd been. He took a deep breath and tried to convince himself he was home and safe and had nothing to worry about. "Huh? Oh...nothing, Pa'. I just got spooked coming down the trail." Otis looked unconvinced, but let the explanation pass for the time being. "You catch that in the pond?" He motioned to the trout Enos had completely forgotten about catching. "Oh...yeah...in the pond." Enos felt his face burn, adding another lie onto the one he'd already told. "Well, you best go and clean it 'fore your ma' sees it." "Yes, sir." ************* Despite his appetite for fish earlier that day, the procuring of it had put him off the idea and Enos merely picked at his portion of trout at supper. "Thought you were in the mood for fish, Enos," said his father. Enos shrugged. "I dunno, pa', guess I'm just not real hungry." "Well..." A frantic beating at the front door cut short whatever his father was about to say. His parents shared an apprehensive look across the table before Otis put his napkin down on the table and went to answer it. "Enos," said his mother, "get in the cellar." "But ma'!" "Don't you talk back to me! Now git!" Enos scooted his chair back from the table and opened up the trap door in the floor of the kitchen that led down into the basement of the house, shutting it behind him. He made his way down the rickety ladder and ran over to the spot underneath the living room. Pulling an old chair over, he climbed on top and peered through the floorboards. The knocking didn't cease until his father opened the door, and a woman ran in. Enos recognized her as Swamp Molly. She was one of the few female bootleggers in the county, taking over where her deceased husband had left off, even bringing her toddler with her on occasion to put off the law. "Lord a-mercy, Molly!" said Otis, "What in tarnation's the matter?" The woman ignored him and went straight to his mother, catching her breath a moment before speaking. "Agnes...Agnes, have you seen yer sister today?" "I ain't seen Minnie in a while, Molly. She's got her hands full with the twins, I reckon." "No, girl...yer other sister! Have you seen Mary?" Her voice took on a hectic edge that sent chills down Enos' spine. "Oh Lord...please tell me you've seen Mary!" "Not for a couple days," Agnes answered. "Why...what's happened?" "I...I's up at her house. Just a while ago," the woman cried. "She ain't there, and it...it..." "Molly, slow down," said Otis, "what's wrong?" "There's blood everywhere, and she ain't there!" For a second, there was a horrible silence as her words settled into the minds of his parents. His ma' took Molly's arm. "Will you take me there, Molly?" "I reckon." The women moved to leave. "Molly, wait, did you call the Sheriff?" asked Otis. "I didn't, but I suppose I will. Don't like the idea of him poking his nose round up here, but I guess it can't be helped. We'll stop by my place first and make the call." "I'm mighty obliged, Molly. And if you would, call Jesse. A few cooler heads will be a good thing." "Will do." Enos felt like the world was closing in on him as he thought back to his strange encounter with Mr. Mayfield at the river. *************** Two hours later, Sheriff 'Butch' Harris stood in the living room of the Strate's house, talking to Enos' father. Word traveled like wildfire in these parts, and it hadn't been anytime before search parties were organized and sent on their way. Nothing had turned up so far. Enos's conscience was screaming at him louder than a brass band. Time and again, men would come back, having found nothing, and all he could think was - the river...they should be searching the river. His father had always taught him to do the right thing, but the right thing meant he was gonna get his hide tanned for sure, and likely wouldn't be going anywhere again 'till the cows came home. But he thought of his aunt Mary, of her pretty smile and funny stories, and of the sweets she always seemed to have stashed away just for his visits...surely she deserved the truth from him. Heart pounding, Enos crossed the living room to stand by his father and the Sheriff. "Uh... Mr. Harris...sir..." The Sheriff turned and looked down at him and smiled sadly. "Hey there, Enos. Sorry about the ruckus today. What's on your mind?" "I...I...got something to say." He turned to his father who was watching him curiously. "Pa', I'm right sorry, and I know I'm in trouble, but I..." "Take it easy, son. Why don't you just say what's important first, and we'll talk about the rest later." "Yes, sir." He turned back to the Sheriff. "I saw Mr. Mayfield down by the river today. He looked plum awful, and he was asking me if I'd seen Mary...an...and he'd been drinking, sir." Butch knelt down in front of Enos. "That's a mighty brave thing you did, son, telling me about it. Thank you." He stood back up and looked at Otis. "We don't have anyone checking that close, I'll go out and have a look." Otis nodded at him and the Sheriff turned and left. "Enos," his father began, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder, "I'm proud of you for being brave enough to tell the truth. You did the right thing, but you know there's consequences for disobeying me and lying about it." Enos hung his head. "I know, pa'. I'm sorry." "Go and get your fishing pole and put it on my bed." "Yes, sir." He grabbed his pole dismally from beside the front door. "And Enos?" He turned back to his father. "Yeah, pa'?" "Son, there ain't no trout in Miller's pond." **************** It was nearly dark when the Sheriff returned, followed by one of his two deputies, Rosco Coltrane. Otis met them on the steps, while Enos pressed his nose to the screen door. "Rosco," greeted Otis to the deputy. "Butch, you got your help, I suspect that means I ain't gonna like what you found." Butch gave him a long look. "I reckon not," he said. "We found her, Otis. Washed up down the river, and that's all I'm gonna say with your boy around." His father turned towards the door. "Enos, go out and make sure the cow's put up." Enos knew better than to argue. When he came back, Sheriff Harris was gone. Deputy Coltrane and Uncle Jesse were on the porch talking to his father. Enos ducked around the side of the porch to hear what was going on. "Deputy Ledbetter's down with the body, along with J.D. Hogg, trying to hold everyone back," Rosco was telling them. "I'm gonna go on back and help 'em get her back to town. State Police are coming in the morning." He walked down the steps, off of the porch. "Rosco," his father called after him, "you be careful. Folks around here are libel to be on a short fuse." "Yes sir, I understand." Jesse waited until the deputy had gone before speaking. "So what's Butch say?" Otis shook his head. "He's gonna go ahead and pick up John Mayfield. Mostly for protection tonight, but Enos saw him down at the river and said he'd been drinking. Knew something had scared the tar outta the boy when he came home today." "They'd best h..." Jesse stopped. He peered off into the night. "What in tarnation!?" Over the hill, a myriad of lights blazed in the darkness. As they came closer, it became apparent it was a large group of people carrying torches, escorting a car moving slowly up the road. More than a little alarmed, Enos ran up onto the porch to stand by his father and Uncle Jesse as the car pulled up and stopped in front of the farmhouse. A man Enos had seen before, but didn't know, got out of the passenger's side as the rest of the people gathered around him. "Where's that Sheriff and those other buffoons that work for him?" the man shouted. "He ain't here, Charlie. What d' you need?" "We got the man who did it! Got him right here!" Shouts of 'That's right!" and "String him up!" filtered through the angry crowd. He pulled open the back door of the car and someone inside kicked a man out - bound, gagged, and bloodied, with a rope around his neck. Enos moved behind his father, horrified, as John Mayfield struggled to escape. "Lord Almighty..." whispered Uncle Jesse. "What are y'all thinking?" Otis yelled at the mob. "This ain't how things are done around here! Bring him on up here and we'll watch him 'till the Sheriff gets back." "They ain't gonna do nothing to him!" another man shouted. "He's a damn revenuer! He's one a-theirs!" "He ain't worth the bullet I'd give a sick dog!" called another. "Now you just wait one cotton picking minute!" started Jesse, walking towards the edge of the porch. "I ain't gonna stand by and let you people act like you ain't got no sense in your heads..." He stopped as several shotguns were lowered in his direction. Otis tugged him back. "Everybody knows you and Otis have been hobnobbing with this mongrel," the man said, delivering John Mayfield a kick to the gut. "We ain't interested in hearing 'bout what some stiff-shirted judge in the city calls legal or not. Now, either you're with us or you're not, but we aim to set things right!" There was nothing Jesse or Otis could do. Enos stared, terrified, as the mob descended on the man, kicking him as he lay curled, helpless on the ground. His father grabbed him and pulled him around into his arms to hide his face. "Son, don't you ever forget," he whispered fiercely in his ear. "This ain't justice." Enos nodded, and Otis looked over at Uncle Jesse. "Jesse, please - get my boy outta here." "Come on, Enos, let's go." Uncle Jesse took his hand and pulled him quickly into the house and through the kitchen to the back door and into his pick up. "You hold on, son. We ain't going the road." Jesse Duke swung the truck around and headed off through the back acre and down the old railroad bed that headed east towards Chalk Hills. The branches struck and scratched at the truck as it whipped by them, and Enos was deathly afraid one would break the windshield. He stared straight ahead as the headlamps guided them slowly through the woods, startling deer whose eyes shone like jewels in the dark, reflected by the light. Eventually they came out at Sand Creek Road and turned right, towards Mill Road and the Duke farm. Uncle Jesse pulled the truck over to the side and turned to Enos. "I'm awful sorry you had to see that back there." Enos shook his head, tears burning in his eyes. "Uncle Jesse, it's all my fault those people were mad at him. I told the Sheriff I'd seen him drunk at the river an..." "You listen to me," Jesse told him sternly, but kindly, "all you did is said what you saw. There ain't never wrong in telling the truth. Them people, Enos, they ain't doing right. Justice is about giving every man – guilty or innocent, his full measure, not taking revenge." He looked over at the boy who seemed only half paying attention and sighed. "Let's get you on to the farm. You look like you need a good night's rest." Uncle Jesse was wrong though, Enos had been listening. And unbeknownst to him, his words about justice had started the path down which Enos Strate would travel the rest of his life. Aunt Lavinia came out to meet them as they pulled up, already having put the kids into bed early tonight with the goings on. She tucked her arm lovingly around the boy when he got out, and looked back in through the window. Jesse motioned her around to the driver's side and whispered what had happened in her ear. "I'm gonna go on back, see what I can do," he said. She nodded, tears in her eyes. "You be careful, Jess," she told him. "The kids are gonna need you." The two shared a long look before Jesse nodded sadly. As he drove off, Lavinia steered Enos up the stairs. "Come on, dear, I'll make you some warm milk before you go to bed." *************** As tired as he was, Enos found himself tossing and turning. The image of John Mayfield lying there in front of his porch, bloody and beaten, wouldn't leave him, and in his mind the man's eyes focused on himself, watching him as he hid . He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the light knock on the door and the creak of it opening. "Enos," whispered Daisy, "Enos, are you asleep?" "No." It was pitch black in the room, but he heard the floorboards as she moved over towards the bed. "I'm scared, Enos," she said. "Can I stay in here with you?" "Yeah, I guess so," he told her, grateful for the little girl's company. He scooted over to the other side of the bed to make room as she settled in. "I heard Uncle Jesse talking to Aunt Lavinia about something happened to your aunt. What happened, Enos? Nobody'll tell me nothing." "Can I tell you about it tomorrow, Daisy? I'm awful tired." "Alright," she sighed, disappointed. "'Night, Enos." "'Night, Daisy." ************* It was spring again in the Georgian hills, but for everyone who had known and loved Lavinia Duke, the sun seemed duller and the flowers not half as fair the day they lowered her into the cold ground of Pine Ridge Cemetery. Four children, whose lives had been touched by her, stood together – joined forever in the loss of the woman who'd been more of a mother to each than their own. And a man who had watched his wife slowly fade away with the passing of the old year, found himself with a broken heart and three young children looking to him to raise them. Jesse Duke had never been so scared in all his life. Continued in Chapter 2: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6994305/2/The-Story-of-Us

Title: Halls of Stone and Iron Status: COMPLETE Summary: When a prominent Hazzard County resident is found dead, the evidence points to an unlikely suspect. Rating: Teen Tags: Crime/Suspense/Psychological Trauma/Angst/Drama/Adventure/Hurt, Comfort/Romance (sort of) Permanent link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8392830/1/Halls-of-Stone-and-Iron Chapter 1: Bad Moon Rising Freedom is a pillow of dreams to those who rest in chains. -the author Thursday, July 25, 1985 It had seemed ridiculous at first – a wild goose chase up to the middle of nowhere in a little county called Hazzard based on an anonymous tip. The District Attorney's office had insisted, however, and so a group of people who stuck out like a sore thumb against the rural landscape had gathered together off a dusty back-road in the sweltering heat of summer. Lined up beside the road, near a bluff known locally as Hickory Ridge on the edge of Stillson Canyon, were four Georgia State Patrol cruisers and a jet black '82 Plymouth Fury. The cars were empty, the officers having been dispatched to search the bush and crevices in the ravine below and the surrounding woods. Special Agent Robert Wilburn was no stranger to rural Georgia, having grown up in Waynesville, but the heat seemed more oppressive here in the foothills of the Appalachians than it did near the coast. He had been stationed with the Bureau in Conyers for eighteen years, but he still missed the salty breeze that rolled in from the Atlantic Ocean. He breathed deeply, appreciating the clean air which smelled strongly of vegetation baking in the sun, and of the hard clay that rose in small puffs of dust beneath his feet, but feeling far from home. "Sir!" An officer called, bringing him back to the present. "Sir, I think we've got something!" Wilburn made his way to the left of the overhang, joined by the Georgia Bureau of Investigation's young Coroner and his partner, Special Agent Tim Stewart. As they neared, the officer moved out of the way and gestured to a small clearing where a scattering of bones lay, white against the dirt. He let the Coroner look first, and glanced over at his partner. "Best call your wife. We ain't gonna make it home for supper." "If that's him, he's right where the girl said he'd be," answered Stewart. "Can't be much left after two years, though. I'm surprised the coyotes didn't drag him off." An officer with a camera began taking pictures and they backed up for a moment so that she could get a clear shot of the crime scene. There wasn't much to photograph, and the Coroner quickly knelt back down beside the remains. "This guy's a mess," he said, disgusted. "He's got more broken bones than not. It'll take a month to piece him back together." "You want me to call it in?" Stewart asked Wilburn. The older man shook his head. "No, I'll do it. I need to talk to the DA anyway. There's already a warrant out, but he'll want to know we found the corroborating evidence." He left the crime scene and walked back to the Plymouth and got into the passenger seat, sighing as he picked up the phone in the center console and dialed the number of the Georgia District Attorney's office. ******************** Ten miles to the northwest of Hazzard, an orange Dodge Charger tore down a lonesome back-road, the dust of the hard-pack churning up like a billowing cloud behind it. The driver and its two passengers were tired and nearly as dirty as the car, owing to the fact that the air conditioner in the General Lee hadn't worked properly since Luke had decided to tear into it the year before. In fact, they wouldn't have ventured out at all into the heat had it not been for a sale on peaches at the Parker Peach Orchard in the tiny town of Jackson up on the border of Hatchape County. Daisy pulled her sweat-soaked hair back from her face, flipping it up behind her to cool her neck, and wished she'd had the good sense to put it up in a ponytail before they'd left. It was bad enough to be this hot, but being the smallest, she always drew the short straw of sitting in the middle, away from the breeze of the windows and between two smelly, sweaty guys. She took a swig of cool water from the Mason jar she was holding before passing it over to Luke who accepted it gratefully. "We get home, we're gonna have to water them tomato plants again," she reminded them. "I reckon it don't matter none," griped Bo, "We ain't doin' any good. The water just dries up as soon as it hits the ground. Why, them plants won't have a dozen tomatoes between the lot of them." Bo was right, she knew it, but she'd not been ready to admit defeat just yet. "A dozen off the vine's a dozen we ain't gotta buy at the store, Bo Duke," she scolded. The guys might think groceries grew on trees, but she did the shopping. He took his eyes off the road long enough to scowl at her. "Well, I don't like my tomatoes all dried and shriveled up." "You get out and water them more, they wouldn't be dried up!" Luke groaned. This kind of heat always put him in a sour mood. "You two stop your fussin'. It' too hot t-" His words died on his lips as the General Lee rounded the corner at Hickory Ridge at the northern end of Stillson Canyon. To the side of the road were four Georgia State Patrol cars and a jet black Plymouth Fury with tinted windows and government plates. "What the heck's goin' on?" wondered Bo, aloud. Luke shook his head. "I don't know. Pull over, Bo, let's see if they need any help." "I'm right on it, cuz." Continued in Chapter 2: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8392830/2/Halls-of-Stone-and-Iron

Hey everyone! I have a new fanfic annoucement (now that Halls of Stone and Iron is finally complete!). Come over and visit and stay awhile! Title: Evergreen Rating: Teen Tags: Angst/Drama/Angst/Adventure/more Angst...probably lots of Angst Chapters: Not as many as Stone and Iron! Probably around 30 chapters (watch me be completely off!) Characters: Daisy centric, but involves all characters. Pairing: It's no secret. Everyone who has ever read my stuff knows I write Enos/Daisy. Although that doesn't necessarily guarantee the ending.... Summary: Some things are temporary - some things endure forever. When an accident changes Daisy's life completely, the quest to recover what she has lost leads her on the journey of a lifetime. Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13549243/1/Evergreen

I can't find the original post for this story with its synopsis (and I'm not sure it ever was posted in this part of the forum), so forgive me for reposting. Halls of Stone and Iron - by wenn9366 (Fanfiction.net), EnosIsMyHero (Hazzardnet) Rating: High T (teen) for violence/psychological trama Tags: Crime/Suspense/Psychological Trauma/Adventure *no sexual assault. Chapters: 73/70, 220,000+ words. Currently 'In Progress' with about 6 chapters left. Characters: Enos centric, but involves all characters. Enos/Daisy pairing, but a very slow burn. Summary: When Enos is arrested for a murder he didn't commit, his life will never be the same. Remanded to the Fulton County Jail in Atlanta to await trial, how long can he hold on to his sanity in a world where the only good cop is a dead one? So...It's been a long time, readers! Sorry, life grabbed me and sucked me in. But..I'm back and so is Halls of Stone and Iron!! This is almost finished, and remaining chapters will follow ASAP. This has been on my plate to finish for a long time, and I am so grateful to everyone who has continued to read and leaves reviews! Love you guys!!! Link is to the whole story, since it's been so long... Halls of Stone and Iron

This story is for the "Cliche' Challenge" (and also the "Christmas Challenge", but I think I'm about 6 years too late for that one). What else could be more cliche'd than a parody of the timeless classic "It's a Wonderful Life"? In this case, Daisy gets to see how the lives of those around her - and even Hazzard itself, would be different if she'd never been born...and perhaps learn a thing or two about herself along the way. This story takes place the Christmas after "Enos and Daisy's Wedding". Warning: If you're looking for just a sweet, little happy-go-lucky Christmas story, you might just want to skip straight to the end. Also, this story can be read as a stand-alone, but the memories that Daisy has of Enos are taken from "The Story of Us". I've tried to flesh them out enough here in this story that you'll get the picture even if you haven't read that fanfic, though. Link to first half ---> "Before the Dawn"