Dubious Intentions

[blackjack]

The cold horizontal rain stung Blackjack Murphy's eyes as he raced down the dark, deserted highway. Despite the weather, he gunned the engine and accelerated. Speed was the only thing that made him feel truly alive. But that feeling was shortlived as the roar of his motorcycle soon became a sputter. He cursed as he pulled the bike to the side of the road.

"Empty. Dammit."

He lowered the kickstand and dismounted the bike. Frustrated, he removed his leather gloves and slapped them on the seat. He looked up and down the expanse of the highway for any oncoming traffic, but there was none to be seen. The only light he could see was distant, a long walk to be sure.

With a sigh of resignation, took off his helmet. He put it in one of the saddlebags and pulled out his black stetson. He put it on, shaping the brim and sides for a few seconds before giving the brim a quick flick with his finger. He fastened his duster, put his gloves back on, and pulled his jacket collar up around his neck. Then he picked up the saddlebags, slung them over his shoulder, and started his long walk toward the distant lights on the horizon.

[Chet Duke]

(*Welcome to Hazzard Blackjack and welcome to the Round Robin forum.*)

As the cold rain began to pour down, Chet Duke titled his own back Stetson towards the blowing wind to protect his face as he wrapped the barbed wire around the fence post once more to make sure it was entirely secure. His horse, a tall, thin and long legged gelding Thoroughbred with a dark red chestnut coat gave him a bump with his nose from behind, a bump that usually meant hurry up.

“I know the rain is cold Red, Im hurrying I really am.†Chet said starting on the next wire down.

Again the horse gave him a bump in the back, a rougher more urgent bump. Quickly Chet wrapped the wire around the post and tugged it tight.

“That will have to do.â€

Getting slightly irritated now red nipped the back of Chet’s coat giving the chocolate colored duster a rough tug. Red released Chet’s jacket and bobbed his head towards the road about 20 yards behind them, the horse had seen the stranger walking and felt the need to alert his master.

“Stop it... I said Im done.†Chet replied turning around to face his horse as he gathered the reins from the ground.

He glanced up just as Red bobbed his head in the direction of the road, his mismatched half blind gaze landed on the stranger walking towards town. Who in there right mind would be out in this weather? Let alone walking towards town, it was no short walk.

“Hmmm.... Now what do you make of that?†The black haired Duke boy wondered aloud as he stepped into the saddle mounting the tall horse.

Red tossed his head an in reply turned towards the road and began to walk towards the stranger. With a slight shrug Chet gave the horse his head and he began to trot towards the road, then he took up a quicker pace nearly running.

With in a few short minutes the shod horses hooves touched down on the cement as the horse and rider came up to the road and slowed to a walk behind the stranger. Chet an Red followed behind the darkly dressed passer by, Chet’s eyes gazing over the other man and reading him like a book. Casually he prepared to start a conversation, his right hand wandered to the front pocket of his shirt inside his duster and with drew a pack of cigarettes.

“Beautiful day for a walk to town wouldn’t you say so?†Chet’s Yankee accent bellowed in sarcasm as he cupped his hands together an lit his cigarette.

(Cue Backjack )

[blackjack]

Murphy looked up, slightly annoyed at the sarcasm, but at the same time grateful that he seemed to be nearing what passed for civilization in these parts. In any other situation, Murphy might've shot back with sarcasm of his own, but he was tired. So he got straight to the point.

"My bike broke down a ways back. I don't suppose you could point me to the nearest gas station?"

(Cue Chet. And thanks for the welcome! Looks like I'll have fun here. )

[Chet Duke]

The tall black hair Duke boy astride the Red gelding laughed to himself for a moment, the nearest gas station was the pumps out front of the Boars Nest about three miles down the road.

“Sure.... I could point you there and I could take you there if ya don’t mind sitting behind me. “ Chet paused taking a drag from his cigarette as Red walked a few short feet behind the stranger. “My names Chet and this is Red.â€

Dropping the thick leather reins Chet patted the horses thick neck and gave his long mane a brush with one gloved hand.

“The closest gas station is nearly a five mile walk from here, there’s a handful of gas pumps out in front of a lil’ place called The Boars Nest.†Chet lied about the distance, it was no fun walking in weather like this even if it was only three miles.

(Cue Blackjack. Your welcome.)

[Brian Coltrane]

( Pardon my cut, I can't stop myself from takin' the opportunity here...)

Meanwhile, a long, black Chevy Impala made it's way along the same remote highway, cutting through the rain. The dark sky and the wet asphalt kept the black car from being easily noticed. Which is exactly how the driver of the car wanted it. The personal forays into Atlanta were made for purposes best left unknown; and they often called for a backroad and an alibi.

Therefore, Diablo's headlights were left off, and the travel was slow by necessity. The windshield wipers squeaked to the music pouring from the radio, which was accompanied by full-throated song from the driver....

"Gimmie three steps, give me three steps mister, give me three steps towards the door! Gimmie three steps, gimmie three steps mister, and you'll nevah see-a-me no more!"

Occupied with his own sing-along, Brian almost missed the sight of the motorcycle parked alongside the road. He caught it out of the corner of his eye and hit the brakes, causing the tail of the black Chevy to skid a little.

"Well, now. That's a nice bike to be sittin' out in the rain..." Brian pulled the Chevy over. His curiosity was up, and like a doomed cat, he had to investigate. He got out of the car, zipped up his leather jacket against the rain, and walked over to the bike.

It was, in fact, a very nice motorcyle. Too nice to be left out in the rain, where it could be clipped by an unattentive motorist, or stolen. After looking around for the possible owner and seeing no one, Brian made a decision. He'd take the bike somewhere safe. The owner should be smart enough to ask the cops about the missing bike; and the cops were just where Brian was going to take it.

In moments, Diablo's large trunk was open, and Brian was pushing the motorcyle up to it. Carefully, he turned the handlebars and balanced the bike on it's front wheel, lifting up the rear over the trunk ledge. From there, it was just a trick of balancing the bike on the trunk ledge, then using the leverage to lift up the front wheel, and scoot the bike inside. The front wheel and handlebars hung outside of the trunk, turned towards the bumper. A quick tie-down with a bungee cord, and the motorcyle was ready cargo.

"Khee! That's that." Brian wiped his hands on his black jeans, got back in his car, and fired the big Chevy up. He took off down the road, resuming his duet with the radio. He traveled a little less than a mile when he saw Chet Duke standing by the road, yakking it up with somebody. Brian rolled down the window just far enough to stick his hand out and offer what passed for a usual salutation between them. The Chevy sped off, and Brian chuckled to himself as he headed for Hazzard.

(Cue Blackjack.....we'll find out soon if yer payin' attention!)

[blackjack]

Murphy was about to sheepishly admit he'd never ridden a horse before when a man in a dark colored car drove by. He noticed the two strangers exchange greetings. Then he noticed the contents of the trunk as the car sped away.

"Hey! That's my bike!," Murphy exclaimed. "Go after that guy. He's got my bike!"

Murphy took a few running steps in the direction the car had driven, but knew it was a lost cause to follow on foot.

(Cue Chet or Brian)

[Chet Duke]

“Hmmm...†Chet pondered to himself for a moment.

He recognized the black Chevy, an by the looks of the direction it was going in it was headed for town, and chances were this strangers motorcycle was headed there too. Chet steadied Red and again offered the stranger a helping hand up behind him on the big Red gelding.

“Come on... theres a short cut through the woods to town, we can meet your bike in town, chances are that where its going.†He with drew his foot from the stirrup so that the stranger could step up behind him.

(Cue Brian or Blackjack)

[countrygirl1986]

(Sorry to intrude, but i've kinda been gone for tooo long, and it's making me a little restless. I don't mean to step on anyone.)

Meanwhile just a little up the road from where Brian was, an old '68 shelby mustang had slid into a ditch, having failed to navigate a turn on the slippery road where some dirt had been dropped, which was now mud. Talk about embarassing. Usually she was running the law into a ditch or rescuing someone from one, not needing rescuing.

As the rain poured down, beating a loud patter against the roof of the car, she listened to the local radio station, trying to be patient. Hilery hadn't called for help for one reason, and only one reason: She didn't want her older second cousin, Cooter, out in the rain. It was coming down pretty hard. Besides, it had been her goal to surprise everyone that she was back, especially Cooter. Maybe an old friend would just drive by her and offer a hand at getting her car out. She had a tow chain atleast.

(Back to your already schedualed cue)

[blackjack]

Murphy hesitantly grabbed Chet's outstretched hand and clumsily fit his boot into the stirrup. He lunged up and flung his leg over the horse.

"These things are wider than they look," Murphy said in a pained voice. "I don't know how you cowboys ride 'em. Thank God my bike ain't this wide."

Murphy expected some comment from the stranger, but none came. So after a short awkward silence he said, "Ok, let's get goin'."

(Cue Chet and his horse. FYI, I'll be in and out in the next few weeks 'cos I'm on business so anyone feel free to jump in and work around my character until I can post.)

[Chet Duke]

The big Red horse laid its ears back unhappyily, he didn't like the extra weight on his back but obeyed Chet's command to behave.

"Come on horse... lets get outta this weather." Chet said and turned the horse down from the road and started him towards the trees.

After the horse began to walk through the woods Chet titled his head to one side, it was a alittle bit of a ride to town so he might as well get aquanted with the guy sitting behind him.

"Im sorry I didn't catch your name." Chet paused. "Mind if I ask what your business is in town an if you have some place to stay this evening?"

Trying to sound as friendly as possible Chet drifted his left hand to his back, wondering if the man sitting behind him could see the bulge of his .45's handle through the back of his thick leather duster. Silently Chet prayed to god that the stranger couldnt see it, but if for some reason he leaned against Chet's back he would no doubt feel the gun. Not wanting the stranger to get alarmed by his hand on his back Chet reached down and tested the tightness of his horses belly cinch.

(Cue Blackjack or anyone.)

[Brian Coltrane]

As he continued his carefree cruise towards Hazzard, Brian saw Hilery's Mustang in the ditch. He waved to her cordially. "Howdy, Hil !" There was no stopping for her, though. Diablo had a real issue with Fords, and attempting to pull one out of a ditch would promise Brian car troubles of his own for weeks.

Instead, he picked up the CB mike and radioed Cooter. This done, he hung the handset back on the CB and chuckled. "Two good deeds in one day. I oughta be ashamed of myself...heh heh!"

The rest of his drive to Hazzard was uneventful, and after another fifteen minute's travel, the long black Chevy swung around the town square. Brian pulled around to the impound lot of the Sheriff's Department, but found the gate shut and padlocked. He couldn't put the motorcycle in here just yet.

Walking inside the courthouse, Brian soon discovered that Enos had no key for the impound yard. Rosco had the only key, and the Sheriff was out on speed trap duty for another hour. This left Brian with a motorcycle stuck in his trunk for the time being. He left the courthouse, fired up the Chevy, and drove it down the block to the Busy Bee Cafe. The drive from Atlanta had left him hungry, and there was time to kill before Rosco was back in town.

Sitting down at a window booth, Brian kept a partial eye on Diablo while he awaited his lunch order. There seemed to be nothing going on in Hazzard today; all was quiet, subdued by the rainy weather.

Taking a swallow of Pepsi from an overpriced can, Brian thought about his good deeds for the day and smiled to himself. It looked like he was going to have one full day without any trouble....

(cue anybody!)

[Razor]

A pair of unusual white pupils peered out from under a park bench on the edge of town square. The park bench offered very little shelter to the 800 pound blue, white and black striped Maltese tiger who crouched there trying to cat nap.

Razor perked his ears up an raised his head from resting his chin on his snow white paws when the black Chevy came into the square. His huge headed thudded against the underside of the bench and he gritted his teeth wincing, but his happiness to see the black Chevy didn’t fade.

He watched as Brian went into the café’ an left his car... alone.... and unlocked. Razor laughed and crawled out from under the bench and headed for the car. Diablo...nice and warm and dry inside. Razor crossed the street an approached the drivers side of the black Chevy, it was so kind of Brian to leave the car unlocked.

Boldly the big tiger pressed the door handle up with his nose and it unlatched, with the tips of his sharp claws he pulled the door open. Pausing only a moment to shake the water from his long fur her climbed up into the drivers seat and turned around pulling the door shut behind him.

With the door shut an the entire car interior concealed against the weather, Razor crawled between the front seats and laid down in the back seat. It wasn’t a huge back seat but it was dry, warm and rather comfy!

(Cue Brian....Hey you got a comfy seat Brian. )

[pendragon1980]

It wasn't long before another regular patron of the Busy Bee walked in. Chance wasn't much for cooking, unless one had an appetite for charcoal, so she often walked across the street from the clinic for lunch.

On her way, she couldn't help but admire the fine-looking motorcycle in Diablo's trunk. Nice piece of workmanship, but she still liked her sports bike better.

Entering the cafe, she spotted Diablo imfamous owner and grinned. "Hey Brian. Nice bike." She teased as she paid for her meal to go. "You finally decide to join the Hazzard Hog Club?"

(cue anyone)

[Brian Coltrane]

"Hog club?" Brian blinked, and glanced down at his midsection. He then flagged down the waitress. "Miss? Fergit the cheeseburger dee-luxe, better just bring me a salad."

(cue anyone!)

[pendragon1980]

Chance laughed. "No fear, Brian, you are one of the healthiest men in Hazzard." She winked as she got her bag of food to go. "Trust me on that."

(cue anyone)

[Brian Coltrane]

Chance's comment caused a few heads to turn in Brian's direction. The waitress looked at him with new appraisal; an old lady smiled at him, and from somewhere came a wolf whistle. Brian felt a slow flush of color rising up from his neck, and he grabbed a menu and hid his face behind it. He cleared his throat, and dryly remarked, "Doc, do you always share yer medical e-valuations out in public?"

(cue anyone!)

[pendragon1980]

At the wolf whistle, Chance looked back to see the origin of the sound. "Knock it off, Cooter, He ain't your type."

Turning her attention to Brian. Chance was hardly shy so she felt no qualms at upping the ante a little at Brian's expense. "I only do public evaluation when the subject is so ...fascinating." She reached across the table, in guise of grabbing a couple of sweeteners for her coffee, she dropped her voice low enough only Brian could hear. "But if you want a private consulation, you know where to find me."

(cue anyone )

[Brian Coltrane]

Chance's lithe figure stretching across the table did nothing to ease Brian's awkwardness. Her front torso nearly brushed the table, and her nearness sent an all-points-bulliten to his body. At her teasing invitation, Brian slowly lowered the menu from his face, gawking at her with no coherent thought present in his head.

He tried to answer her, but being aware of the entire cafe' staring at them, he could only manage to swallow and give her a foolish grin.

The waitress plunked the salad down at the corner of the table, startling Brian. Realizing that if the Doc stayed any longer, she'd miss the rest of her afternoon appointments, Brian offered a parting excuse. "I suppose I'd better tend to my lunch," he said with a nervous smile. "I don't want my salad to get cold....."

(cue anybody!)

[Razor]

Very comfortable and dry in the concealment of the black Chevy, Razor quickly dozed off into a deep cat nap. He rolled over on to his back and streached out on the back seat as much as he could, his snow white belly and paws unmistakable against the dark colored interior.

His huge paws hung off the side of the seat lazily, feeling safe and completely out of the cold rain he rested waiting for Brian to return so that he could greet him.

[pendragon1980]

"Heaven forbid. Although I prefer something with a little heat, esp. on a cold day like this." Chance snatched a crouton from the top of the salad and popped in her own mouth. "See you around." With that promise and a grin that leaned on the wicked side, she gathered up her lunch and coffee and left the cafe.

Under the overhang of the cafe, the young doctor took a moment to adjust her collar against the rain. She caught sight on white fur on black vinyl in through Diablo's window. Shaking her head, she muttered to herself as she walked back to the clinic. "Brian's gonna have a new fur rug if Razor sheds all over the interior."

(cue anyone)

[Brian Coltrane]

Brian watched Chance saunter out of the cafe. He gave a wistful sigh at her departure, wishing she didn't have to return to the clinic. Otherwise, they would have squandered the afternoon away in each other's breathless company.

Brian picked up his fork and stabbed at the salad. While chewing away, he began daydreaming about his next physical, a private smile on his face.

Cooter strolled up from the back of the cafe'. The Hazzard mechanic wore a toothy grin, and set down a plate of food at Brian's table. "I had the waitress hold your cheeseburger dee-luxe," Cooter chuckled. "Way I see it, you're gonna need your strength. That's a lotta woman you got there, ol' Bri. Heh heeeh!"

Brian looked up from the salad. "You ain't just whistlin' Sweet Home Alabama."

Cooter pulled down the brim of his greasy baseball cap in salute, and turned for the door. The mechanic was all grins as he walked out, literally singing in the rain as he strolled back to the garage.

Brian wolfed down the cheeseburger, and as the waitress brought his bill, he discovered the reason for Cooter's good mood. Somehow, both Cooter's lunch and his own were on the same tab. Muttering, Brian dug out his wallet and paid up. "Nevah safe from a shuck n' jive in this town...ya think I'd learn."

He left the cafe, and paused under the awning to zip up his jacket and flip up the collar. Walking quickly to Diablo, he opened the driver's door and jumped inside, pulling the door shut with a fast slam. He stuck the key into the ignition, wondering if Rosco was back from patrol yet....

(cue anybody)

[Razor]

Feeling extremely safe and entirely out of harms way, Razor slept deeply on the back seat of Brian's car. He was sleeping so deeply in fact that he never heard the black clad Coltrane return and shut the car door. Razor simply continued to sleep lazily, his obnoscious snore sounding like a half purr half growling sound that echoed from deep inside his chest.

(Cue Brian or anyone.)

[Brian Coltrane]

Having turned the key in the ignition within a heartbeat's time, Brian didn't immediately note the background noise. But as Diablo's motor turned over with it's usual vrrraaa-hoom, Brian listened to the engine critically. "Diablo, either yer way past a tune-up, or you're about to drop a muffler. Either way, hold it together for awhile!"

Brian threw the Chevy into gear and gunned it, sending the car bolting from the curb. Deciding he'd better put Diablo through a quick check, he debated on taking a short run down a back road.

But then, his ornery side got the better of him. He owed Cooter some payback...and there was one sure-fire way to tell if Rosco was back in town.

"Hell yeah..." Brian muttered to himself, grinning. "KHEEHAAAA!" He yanked the wheel, hammered the gas, and held down the brakes at the same time. Diablo did a yowling, smoking shriek around the town square, the rear of the long Chevy threating to break free from the restrained torque. The revving roar of the engine, trapped in high gear while the brakes held it back, sounded like a low-flying 747. White smoke poured thick from the rear tires, while a burning track of rubber was carved into the asphalt.

Over at the garage, Cooter looked up from pumping gas to see a white cloud of smoke, with the front of a black Chevy sticking out of it. Then he could see nothing at all as Diablo squalled past him, sending up thick wafts of hot smoke. Waving his hat and coughing, Cooter was forced to retreat inside of his garage, while the patron at the gas pump had to roll up the car window.

Traffic came to a halt. Stores put up "Closed" signs in their windows and pedestrians scattered for shelter. Diablo fishtailed around the town square completely before ducking into an alley.

Brian threw the car into park and patted the dashboard, laughing. "Kheehahaha! Oh man, that was beautiful! That was worth the tires! Not bad for wet streets, Diablo! Not bad at all!"

(cue anybody!)

[Razor]

"Impressive! But not the best way to awake someone from a cat-nap." Razor sat up in teh back seat and streached with a huge yawn.

He then moved forward and rested his front paws on the center council next to Brian. Razor then rested his chin on his paws, his eyes looking sleepy and dreamy like.

"Where are we going?" Razor asked thoughtfully.

(Cue Brian)

[Brian Coltrane]

"GAAH! A tresspasser! An un-author-ized hitchhiker!" Startled, Brian flattened himself against the inside of the driver's door, looking warily at the oversized varmint. "What the hell, no wonder my car smells like a wet dog!"

Recovering himself, Brian leaned across the length of the front seat and popped open the glove box. He took out a small air freshener shaped like a pine tree and hung it from the mirror. "We ain't goin' nowhere, big cat. I'm tryin' to find Rosco so I can get some official business taken care of. You need to skeedaddle. What say I drop you off at Cooter's?"

(cue Razor)