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EnosIsMyHero last won the day on January 18 2020

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    Work at home, homeschooling mom of 2, owner of Bloo Kangaroo baby carriers. DOH fan since age 5.
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  1. (Here's chapter 2...Chapter 1 was posted a while back) If you would like to read more of this story, you can find it on fanfiction.net. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13549243/1/Evergreen Synopsis: An accident steals away 20 years of Daisy's past and all memory of a certain former Deputy Sheriff. Now a stranger in her hometown, can fate lead her back to the path she should have taken and a man who left Hazzard with no forwarding address? Daisy/Enos Slow Burn. Amnesia fic/Crime/Drama/Angst/Adventure/Murder Mystery Chapter 2: An Unlikely Hero Rosco swerved as Daisy hit her brakes in front of him. The world moved in a blur of colors and motions as his right wheels climbed the embankment, tilting the police car sideways beside the Jeep. And then the road next to him was empty. There seemed to be no sound (that was the thing he would remember forever afterwards) like one of those old-timey picture shows with the captions running along the bottom. A slow, silent, timeless eternity as the shadow of Dixie raced unnaturally across his hood. She flipped forward, end over end, and if they had been anywhere else in the county, or on any other road, that might have been the worst of it. The Jeep landed hood first on the steep grade of loose rocks and rolled; once, twice, over and over down into the ravine with such speed and force that each turn bore it aloft before it crashed down and rolled again... until it came to rest on its drivers side in the waters of Crockett Pond. He didn't remember driving off the road or parking beside the pond; he didn't remember getting out or wading in. The water was only knee high where the Jeep had come to lay, and he slogged through it, terrified of what he would find and mumbling a prayer that she wouldn't already be dead. A sudden movement under the water scared him almost more than the silence, and seconds were lost while he stared, white-eyed, at it, until Daisy emerged and struggled to pull herself up from the wreckage. "Daisy!" The mud sucked at his feet, and the water sloshed around his knees as he tried reach her. She clutched at the Jeeps's roll cage, her head just above the water. Whether the metal was slick with mud or she fainted, Rosco didn't know, but her fingers slipped before he made it to her, and with a splash she plunged back down beneath the muck. "Oh Lord..." He fumbled blindly down into the murky water, his hands scrabbling for her. They found something soft and unyielding, and he grabbed her and pulled her out. Water poured from her clothes and he lay her head back in the crook of his arm, pulling wet hair and strands of slimy algae from her face. "Daisy! Daisy, oh please don't be dead..," he moaned, pressing trembling, callused fingers beneath her pale jaw and holding his breath until he felt the soft, fluttery beats of her pulse. Relief that she was alive quickly dissolved into panic as he waited for her to draw a breath. He glanced at her mouth, trying to remember anything he had ever learned about resuscitation and cursed himself for being too lazy to take that first aid class down in Capital City the year before. She began to cough then; brown, brackish water trickled from the corners of her mouth, and he turned her to the side, pounding on her back. When the coughing subsided, she gasped, dragging air into her starved lungs. He turned her to see her face, and she opened her eyes wide, looking up into his. "Rosco," she croaked, hoarsely, "why're you crying?" Her words made him laugh and cry even harder. "You done scared the living daylights outta me, Daisy Duke," he said. "Are you hurt bad anywhere?" He asked. "Can you stand up?" She gave him a weak nod, and her right hand clutched at him for support as she got her legs underneath her. He helped her lean back against the dented frame of the Jeep, smelling the burning oil where it had leaked onto the hot engine block. He swallowed back the queasiness when he noticed her left arm was broken where it hung by her side and instead focused on her face. "What happened to me?" "You flipped your Jeep over the ridge after them rotten crooks shot your tire out," he told her. "You're lucky to be alive! I thought you were dead for sure." She didn't answer him. In fact, she wasn't even looking at him anymore. He turned around to peer over his shoulder where her line of sight had drifted, but there was nothing there. "Daisy?" He snapped his fingers in front of her face, but she neither blinked, nor did her focus return. She began to shiver. "Daisy, what's wrong? You're scarin' me again." Her eyes fluttered shut as her body sagged heavily against his, and he caught her before she could fall back into the water. "Help!" he shouted, desperately. "Somebody help me!" He looked back up at the road, but there was no one around but him, and he knew he couldn't wait for anyone else to show up. Earl, the ambulance driver, was on call but he would have go to the city garage to pick it up before he came, and Rosco was already closer to Capital City than Hazzard. Daisy needed help, and she needed it now. He wasn't strong enough to pick her up and carry her. Too old, too soft and flabby. Instead, he hooked his arms under hers and dragged her backwards out of the pond towards his car. Twice he almost tripped in the mud which seemed to tug at Daisy's heels, trying to wrench her from his hands. His mind recalled terrifying old tales of muck monsters and swamp demons, pulling their victims under the water to drown them, though he hadn't thought of such things since he was a child. When at last they were free of the pond, he dragged her over to his car and hoisted her into the backseat, taking a cursory inventory of her injuries. "Daisy," he muttered, miserably, "why'd you have to go and try to stop them guys yourself? Dontcha know that's why I wanted in front of you?" Gingerly, he tucked her broken arm beside her. Other than that, her face and arms were etched with a multitude of scratches, mostly superficial but a couple which might need stitches. There was not much blood, but he was more afraid of the blood he couldn't see. She was still shivering. The only thing he had to keep her warm was Flash's dog blanket, and it wasn't nearly large enough. "Now, I know this ain't enough to keep you warm," he said, "but I'll turn the heat way up." He tucked it as best he could around her shoulders before slamming the door and crawling into the driver's seat. He drove back up to the road, both hands gripping the steering wheel in a white-knuckled vise. Running lights and sirens, he pushed the Dodge Monaco to its limits, racing through the backroads of Hazzard County faster than he'd ever dared, even while chasing the General Lee. The car bucked as he turned and skidded onto the asphalt highway of County Road 20, and its water temperature needle shifted a notable tick towards "Hot" as the motor revved before the wheels caught. The trees and fields blurred together on either side of him. Now on smoother roads, he grabbed frantically for the CB without taking his eyes off the road, knowing if he went much further he would be out of range of any of the Dukes. "Bo..Luke..Jesse," he called, trying to hide the shaking in his voice. He'd never felt his heart beat so hard. "Any of you Dukes got your ears on? Come back." Oh please, God, let them answer! If they didn't, he'd try and get hold of Cooter. There was no going back, not with Daisy in the back seat still out cold. He flashed a glance behind him, over the seat, but she hadn't moved a muscle. "Rosco? This here's Luke. We're over here at the Dickerson place. Those crooks ain't here, but their other car still is. We think we know where they're headed. If y'all meet us down by Stone Bridge, we'll cut them off." "Just...Just never you mind about that now," he told them. "Now boys, I...I don't rightly know how to tell you this, but I'm on my way down to Tri-County Hospital with Daisy. She's done flipped her Jeep over the ridge." The dead air that followed was almost worse than the telling, and he felt his hand on the wheel grow slick with sweat. It was Bo who finally answered. "Rosco, is this some sort of a joke?" His voice sounded hopeful, but even Rosco could hear the thread of fear behind it. "Cause if this is a joke, it ain't funny!" "I wish it was, Bo. Honest, I do, but it ain't. I've gotta go. My speedometer's clockin' at 95, and I need both hands on the wheel." "We're on our way, Rosco!" Oblivious in the back of Rosco's cruiser, Daisy made her way to Capital City for the second time that day. Rosco cut his siren as he pulled into the emergency entrance. A triage nurse ran out to help as he opened the back passenger's side door. "She's been in an accident!" he told her. "I think she's breathing, but she's been unconscious for about thirty minutes. The nurse crawled into the back seat beside Daisy and felt for a pulse and respiration. "I need to know exactly what happened,' she said. "Was she conscious at any point?" Before Rosco could answer, she yelled behind her to the other triage staff who had just come through the door, "Call Dr. Richardson stat! He'll need to check her before we can move her." Without turning her attention from Daisy, she said, "I'm sorry, Sheriff. What were you saying?" "Her Jeep flipped and then landed in a pond," he said, "But...but, she was talkin' to me! And she stood up like she was fine!" In the background, he heard the page for Dr. Richardson relayed over the intercom. "Did she say if anything hurt or complain about anything before she passed out?" "Her arm was broken, but..but she didn't seem to notice." He remember her staring over his shoulder. "Then she went into some sort of trance, I guess you'd call it, staring out at nothing. And then she fainted. She started shivering, too," he added. He craned his neck over the woman where Daisy lay - so very, very still. "Can't you get her out of the car?" "The doctor needs to check to make sure her neck's not broken before we move her," she explained. "He'll be here in just a minute." No sooner had she said that, than a young man in light gray scrubs ran out the door and past the other triage staff who had wheeled a gurney beside the car. The nurse inside the car switched places with him, filling him in on what Rosco had told her, using terms he didn't understand like decompensation and normal oculocephalic reflex, as the doctor bent over Daisy and began to feel gently around the back of her head and neck. "What's her name?" "Daisy," offered Rosco. "Daisy Duke." "Daisy?" the doctor asked her, loudly. "Daisy, can you hear me? You said she stood up and spoke, Sheriff?" "Yeah, and right after the wreck, she was able to pull herself out of the water before she fell back in." The doctor crawled back out of the car. "I don't feel anything in her neck or spinal column to worry about, and her respirations are good," he told the triage team. "Let's get her in, get an I.V. started and make sure she's stable, but she'll need an MRI and CT so call Life Fight and get them on the way. She's got an open fracture of the left forearm so let's support that side as much as we can. Sheriff, can you move your front seats up to give us more room?" Rosco, happy to be doing something other than standing impotently and worrying over Daisy, scrambled to move the seats. In a cumbersome balancing act, Dr. Richardson and his team managed to transfer her to the gurney with a minimum of jostling and rushed her through doors into the building, leaving him alone. Blood had pooled on the hard vinyl of the backseat, presumably where her broken arm had rested, and run down into the carpet where it left a half-dollar sized, dark stain. He tossed Flash's blanket over it and slammed the door. Standing in a daze, he realized his car was in the way, so he moved it into the parking lot before going inside himself. The automatic doors opened with swift, smooth efficiency, and the cool air conditioning hit him just before the biting smell of antiseptic. Tri-County Hospital was small and old, but clean, and the tile floor gleamed with new wax. The posters offering advice on signs of stroke and the importance of hand washing were faded and curled at the edges, and the fabric of the waiting room chairs was an off-colored peach that might have once been orange at some point. Rosco's hands rang the brim of his hat convulsively, feeling the early twinges of a headache forming as he stepped up to the nurses' station. One of them looked up at him and smiled sympathetically. "Sir, are you the officer who brought in Ms. Duke?" "Yeah, that's me," he said. "Is she gonna be alright?" "The triage unit is back there with her now, but I don't have any specifics," she said. "Do you know if her family has been contacted?" "I let them know that I was bringing her here, but I had a head start." She nodded and flipped open the chart in front of her, taking down the names of Jesse, Luke, and Bo Duke that he provided. Rosco wasn't completely sure about her birthday, sometime in the winter, but he was able to give basic information and her address and phone number. "If you need to stay and wait for her family, they're going to Life Flight her to Grady Memorial in Atlanta, since we don't have an MRI available at Tri-County." Rosco murmured a 'thanks', and dropped into one of the faded chairs beside the window, only then realizing that he was wet and covered in noxious smelling, half dried mud. Dixie rolling down the hill played on a constant loop in the back of his mind. All for a stolen safe that wasn't worth the trouble in the first place, just something to do to kill the monotony of life in Hazzard. The only thing inside it had been Flash's dog biscuits. Continued here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13549243/1/Evergreen
  2. Evergreen has been updated through Chapter 21 (finally!). https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13549243/18/Evergreen
  3. 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
  4. Title: Beneath a Hazzard Moon Rating: Teen Status: COMPLETE Tags: Mystery/Crime/Hurt-Comfort/Drama/Post-series Summary: When a serial killer begins targeting the women of rural Georgia, LAPD Detective Enos Strate must make a choice - stay in Los Angeles or face the painful past that drove him away from his beloved Hazzard County. Permanent Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6786021/1/Beneath-a-Hazzard-Moon Author's Note: This story starts four years after the Dukes of Hazzard series ended, so the year would be 1989. I've kept most of the time-line that we learned from the first Reunion movie intact up to that point, but you can just pretend that the movies never happened. Chapter 1: Far From Home Detective Enos Strate watched the rain as it fell, beating against the window of his office. It was dark now, another night spent up too late and working too hard, and the lights of passing traffic shone far below him. He raised his hand to the glass, tracing the patterns of their taillights – a endless, mindless stream of red in the vast ocean of dark Los Angeles. Once again the reality of how small and inconsequential his world was struck him, a feeling that had never ceased to fully disappear even in the nearly four years he'd been here since returning from Hazzard. In truth, he knew it never would, but little of that bore thinking of now. The past was a memory as dark, deep, and murky as the storm that raged outside. He turned back to his desk and the solitary folder that still lay open. A simple domestic violence case which had ferreted out a small drug ring on the outskirts of the city, hardly large enough to make a dent in LA's major drug runners, but one contact had led to another before. Hand-written notes in his characteristic block script lay neatly to the side, and he placed them back into the folder before closing it and filing it away in his desk drawer. The clock on the wall read 2:10 am, and he knew he'd regret the late night in the morning. Enos took his coat from its hook and shrugged it on, making his way through the outer office and out the door, turning left into the corner stairwell instead of continuing to the elevators. He'd always believed that a little extra exercise never hurt, and besides that the idea of hurtling down eight stories in a metal box made him slightly claustrophobic. The rain had subsided to a steady drizzle by the time he made it to the subway station. He stepped into one of the partially filled front cars instead of the abandoned rear ones, too tired to have to fight off any punks who were too drunk or too stupid to see the LAPD insignia on his jacket. He took a seat, resting his head against the window and dozed off as the vibration of the subway car lulled him into sleep. The conductor announcing his stop woke him and he counted himself lucky he hadn't missed it. His apartment wasn't far and five minutes later he slid his key into the lock and bolted it behind him as he entered the meager dwelling. The job at the LAPD paid enough money for something larger and the good Lord knew he didn't have anything else to spend it on, but it was better this way he figured, and one didn't notice the loneliness so much when they lived in a walk-in closet. Most of his money he sent home to his mother, who he had a sneaking suspicion wasn't spending it either though he'd told her to pay off the mortgage that his father had left behind when he'd died. Thankfully Rosco wasn't as eager to foreclose on the good people of Hazzard county as Boss had been. He dressed for bed, turned out the light, and raised the blinds on the window. The rain reminded him of another day - three years, seven months, and four days ago to be precise, in a little town half a world away from where he sat now. It had been raining the night he'd left Hazzard, and it had followed him like a dark cloud to sunny California. His eyes came to rest on the drawer of the nightstand in which a single picture lay, but he made no move to open it. Instead he turned down the covers and crawled into bed, trying to remember what it felt like to be happy, only to dissolve into a dream where a girl with long brown hair and a radiant smile had stolen the sun from his sky. Continued in Chapter 2: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6786021/2/Beneath-a-Hazzard-Moon
  5. 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
  6. 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
  7. I was going to take down the previous topics of my fanfics to add the first chapter of each of them, but I'm not sure I can delete them so I'll just create a new topic here in the Announcement forum. For each story, the full version can be found at my fanfiction.net account, WENN9366 at the link: https://www.fanfiction.net/~wenn9366 Title: Evergreen Rating: Teen Tags: Crime/Mystery/Angst/Drama/Angst/Adventure/more Angst...probably lots of Angst Characters: Daisy centric, but involves all characters. 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 and the race to solve a string of murders before the unthinkable happens. Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13549243/1/Evergreen Chapter 1 - Once Upon a TIme I met a thief along the road, his face he did not show. He stole a priceless gift from me, but what, I do not know." -the author October 1987 Beneath a sky of deep and azure blue, the autumn winds swept down over northern Georgia from the Appalachian foothills. They shook the leaves of the oaks and ash, which had just begun their metamorphosis from green to brown, stopping momentarily at brighter shades in between. The weekend of October 23rd brought a wealth of visitors to the town of Hazzard by way of the annual Hazzard County Fair. Families from neighboring counties too small to host a fair of their own bustled into their vans and station wagons and parked in cornfields, eager to spend their money and eat fried foods. Daisy surveyed the crowd milling about about the square as she pulled Dixie over to the curb. "Uncle Jesse, are you sure you don't want me to stay with you?" she asked. "I'm just going to Capital City for some groceries, and I can put that off until the boys get here." "No baby," he said, patting her shoulder. "You go on. I'll be just fine here by myself." He picked up the heavy stock pot from where it rested on the floor between his feet, and an aroma of spice and gamey meat came with it. "I'm gonna take this chili to the judging tent, and then head over to the craft barn. I've been mighty excited to see what the kids from the orphanage have come up with this year." "Oh, me too, Uncle Jesse! It was so nice of Doc Appelby to buy all those art supplies for them." Those kids had a way of worming themselves into Daisy's heart; after all, she and the boys might have ended up there if Uncle Jesse hadn't taken them in. "Alright then, if you're sure you'll be okay." "I'm fine, I'm fine," he assured her. "You go on. You ain't been over to Capital City since last Christmas, and they've put a fresh coat of paint on the main street buildings. Looks real nice." "Okay, I'll check it out." She watched him manuver himself out of the Jeep, wincing when he faltered and adjusted his grip on the door frame. Once safely out, he turned back to take the pot. He smiled as she waved and drove away, turning her attention back to the road with a troubled sigh. When she had enrolled at the University of Georgia the previous fall, she'd been naive enough to think that everything at home would stay the same; that she would come back and slip into her place, like a missing puzzle piece. Time, however, had a way of getting past her while she was down in Athens. There always seemed to be a test to study for, or another project to finish, or a friend who needed a tutor. The weeks had turned to months without her coming home to visit. The changes in Uncle Jesse concerned her, even though the boys brushed them off. Last week, he'd fallen climbing up the steps to the porch (just tripped on a pine cone, he'd assured her) and banged his knee. Doc Appleby had checked him over, and cleared him of anything worse than a bruise and damaged pride, but to Daisy, who hadn't seen him since the summer, he seemed noticeably slower. She was on Sand Creek Road, cutting south towards Highway 20 when she spied the white fender of Cletus' patrol car poking out from behind a stand of scrub brush. She pulled over and got out, closing the door softly. It had been a long time since she'd seen anyone in Hazzard but her family, and scaring Cletus was one of Hazzard's favorite pastimes. True to form, his head was lolling on the frame of the open window. He snored loudly. She leaned down next to his ear. "Cletus!" "Jumpin' Jehoshaphat!" His head smacked up against the top of the door, knocking his hat askew to cover his eyes. By the time he'd righted it, she had flattened herself against the rear door, out of his line of sight. He looked out the window across from the car and up towards the road. "What in the world?!" he whispered to himself. "I gotta stop eating them pickled turnips Lulu gave me." "Cletus," laughed Daisy, walking back to his window, "you wouldn't know if I was speeding or not, sleeping out here like that." "Daisy!" He pulled the latch on the door and climbed out, adjusting the belt under his generous belly. "You caught me," he confessed, with a happy blush. "I was napping. So you're back in Hazzard for the fair, huh? When didja get in?" "Yesterday. I'm sorry, Cletus. I just had to scare you once for old time's sake." "Oh shucks, Daisy," he said, shyly, looking down, "you can sneak up on me anytime you like!" She shook her head. Poor Cletus. Although he'd forgiven her for tricking him into thinking that she was in love with him years ago, she suspected he thought she was just playing hard to get. Better to let him think it, though. It didn't cause any trouble, and it usually meant he was too flustered to remember Rosco had standing orders to arrest any and all Dukes without cause at all times. "Oh Cletus," she simpered, "you're so sweet." She thought about giving him a kiss on the cheek but decided against it. "Aww...," he brushed away her praise. "So, how's school going? I heard you were at the top of your class! At least that's how your Uncle Jesse tells it." Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. She had done well, but she felt uncomfortable spreading it around. It was already the first thing people asked about. "I didn't do too bad," she admitted. "I can't believe I'm a sophomore already!" Cletus' radio crackled to life. "Cletus? Cletus, come back." "I'd better get that, or Rosco'll think I was sleepin' again." he told Daisy, but made no move towards it, continuing to smile snappily at her. "It was great to see you, sugar," she said, stepping forward and giving him a quick hug. He smelled of breath mints and sweat. "Cletus, you'd better not be sleeping again, you numbskull, or I'm gonna make you official judge of the rattlesnake chili cook off this year!" Cletus' smile faded, and he paled noticeably. "I'd better get that." "Bye, Cletus. Tell Lulu I said 'hi'." "I will, Daisy!" He waved as she turned to leave. "See you later!" Capital City was not so much changed that she wouldn't recognize it, but she had to admit anything was an improvement. The city was three times larger than Hazzard, located at the southwestern corner of Drexel County, and had suffered from corrupt mayors for decades; long enough to drain the treasury dry and drive all the good jobs away. The post office, courthouse, and library each sported a fresh coat of white paint, though the roof of the post office sagged at both corners. Like a clown's frown, she thought, then rolled her eyes at herself. "You have been studying way too hard, Daisy Duke." Studying wasn't her problem, though, it was her solution. It kept her from thinking of things she didn't want to think about, and she knew it. Damn the torpedoes, mister, full speed ahead! It was when she had nothing to do that her mind began creeping back to the past. She swiped at a drop of Uncle Jesse's rattlesnake chili where it had dripped onto the passenger's seat. Speaking of past snakes, she wondered where her ex-husband had slithered off to these days. Her stupidity still amazed her even two years later, and she vowed again, as she had vowed to herself a hundred times since he'd run off, that she would never, ever, let herself be suckered into falling in love again. Last summer, sitting alone on what should have been the evening of their first anniversary, she realized that something had to change. She was thirty-two years old, too old to go waiting on her prince charming to come and sweep her off her feet, and if she stayed in Hazzard, pouring beer at the Boar's Nest, she was going to turn into a bitter, old woman some day. Better to be an old woman with a college degree and a career. Bo, Luke, and Uncle Jesse had been all smiles and encouragement when she brought up the idea of going to college, and she suspected they knew as well as she did that she needed to get out of Hazzard. After a rough couple of months, they had even learned to keep house - at least better than while she'd been a deputy. Thinking of Hazzard deputies brought him to mind, and she instantly scrubbed out that line of thinking. She'd cry, and that wasn't on her agenda for today. There were better things to do than get caught up in self pity. After all, she had tried to apologize, and it wasn't her fault that he wouldn't return her calls or that all her letters came back stamped 'UNDELIVERABLE'. Two hours later, her grocery shopping was finished and she headed back down Highway 20. She had just crossed the county line when the call of 'Lost Sheep to Shepherd' came over the CB She picked it up. "Lost Sheep, this is Bo Peep. Uncle Jesse's over at the fair. Is there something I can help you fellas with?" "Uh, well... I reckon you can, Daisy," Bo said, with some hesitation. "Meet us at the Old Mill down Eagle Bluff Road in ten minutes." "I'll be there with bells on," she said, grateful for a distraction. Maybe Rosco had thought up some scheme against them for old times sake. Since Boss Hogg had passed away, the county's funds had gone up and corruption had gone down, but the sheriff still made up phony, trumped up charges against Bo and Luke on occasion. Mostly when there was nothing else to do. The General Lee was already parked outside the mill by the time she arrived and, to her dismay, Hazzard #1 sat beside it. She grinned, thinking that something interesting must be going on for Rosco to be on their side today. The rotten, wooden slat door hung off one hinge, and it squealed and scraped the dirt as she pulled it open. Inside, Bo, Luke, and Rosco were hunkered over a folding map of Hazzard County which lay stretched across a crate. She slipped in between Rosco and Bo. "Hey fellas, what's going on?" Luke looked up at her and shook his head. "It seems some of Boss's old friends came by and robbed the Boar's Nest." "Ouuu geet!" exclaimed Rosco, the fringe of his gaudy epaulets bouncing as he shook his fist. "When I get my hands on those dirty crooks, I'm gonna cuff 'em and stuff 'em!" "Thing is," said Bo, "Rosco changed the combination since Boss used it, so they cut a hole in the ceiling and lowered a tow truck crane in and took the whole dang safe instead!" Daisy didn't quite see how that was possible, but you never could be too sure in Hazzard. "They haven't left the county, yet," said Luke, "so there's still time. Arthur Sills saw their truck while he was junk hunting earlier. He says they're holed up at the old Dickerson place north of Partridge Farm." He stabbed his finger at a dark, grease spot on the map. "I figure if we all show up at the same time, it'll be easy to flush them out. Maybe they'll give up without a fight." Partridge Farm was northeast of the Duke Farm, almost to Hollister, in an area Daisy wasn't very familiar with. "That's way up there, Luke," she said. "I sure hope you fellas know where you're going, 'cause I sure don't!" Luke glanced over at her and nodded. "If we get split up, you follow Rosco. We'll meet again back at the Boar's Nest if we don't catch them." "Sounds good, Luke." He folded the map and put it in his pocket as they left the mill; Bo and Luke in the lead, followed by Daisy and then Rosco bringing up the rear. The dust flew back from the tires of the General Lee, spraying grit in Daisy's mouth, and she dropped back far enough to keep it out of her eyes. As they passed the turn off to Partridge Farm, a blue sedan cut across their path, barely missing the General, and sped off down Ridgerunner Road to their left. "That's one of 'em!" shouted Rosco over the radio. "I seen him playing lookout at the Boar's Nest!" "Daisy, you and Rosco follow that sedan," said Luke. "Me and Bo'll keep going to the Dickerson Place." "I read you loud and clear, Luke." "That's a 10-4," said Rosco. Daisy cut the wheel, sending Dixie's rear tires sliding around in a hail of gravel until she faced Ridgerunner Road, then took off with Rosco following close behind her. From her rear view mirror, she noticed him weaving crazily from one side of her to the other and wondered what on God's green earth he was doing. "Daisy, wouldja get outta the way?" he spat over the radio. "I'm the superior officer here, and I'm gonna take the lead!" She picked up the receiver. "No way, Rosco! I don't want a mouthful of dust. Don't worry, I'll let you 'cuff and stuff' them when I catch them." Catching them would be easy, but she worried that stopping them might be nigh impossible. A steep ridge bordered the road to her right and a cavernous ravine fell off to her left. She wouldn't be able to get beside their car, and she didn't want to bump them and cause either of them to lose control. Ridgerunner Road had claimed the lives of scores of bootleggers and drunken teenagers, and once you flipped your car over the side, you could pretty well start trying on robes and halos. The billowing dust blinded her as she closed in on the sedan, and there was a hairy moment when the Jeep fishtailed and the tires slipped on loose gravel at the edge of the road. The steering wheel shuddered in her hands before the wheels caught traction again, and she glanced to her left at the steep drop off. At last, the dirt road turned into blacktop, and she breathed a sigh of relief as the dust cleared and Dixie's tires grabbed the pavement. Ahead, the ravine grew shallow and the afternoon sunlight flickered like a million candles off the surface of Crockett's Pond. She heard Rosco shout a warning over the CB at the same time she saw the man in the back seat swing a gun out the driver's side window and fire. Glass chips grazed her cheek and she squeezed her eyes shut as two white circles appeared in the passenger's side window. She slammed on the brakes, praying Rosco wouldn't rear end her, and the sound of the third shot was lost in the chaos as her left front tire exploded. The steering wheel jerked violently out of her hands as the left side of the front axle smashed into the road, and then came a sickening feel of weightlessness as the CJ-7 flipped. Time moved in slow motion around her, held aloft upside down as the ground became her sky. Long enough for her to whisper a prayer for her family and wonder how they would find Enos to tell him she was- Continued in Chapter 2: Direct link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13549243/2/Evergreen
  8. Evergreen updated through Chapter 18. Link to latest chapter: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13549243/18/Evergreen
  9. Every country has something in their history they aren't proud of, however, the United States of America remains the only country where one race fought a war within their own borders to free people of a different race - all at a time when slavery was still practiced openly by most countries around the world. (Including parts of the British Empire). I challenge these 'cancel culture' enthusiasts to find a country they would rather live in...and move there.
  10. Hey everyone, Evergreen has been updated through Chapter 11! Link to Chapter 2 So for anyone wanting more info than the nebulous first summary. This is an amnesia trope, but written realistically (none of that 'bonked on the head and now I'm cured stuff' or 'I can't remember my name or who I am'). With my background in psychology, I've always loved amnesia stories, but I've never written one. Since I intend for this to be the last fanfiction I write, I thought I would take a stab at it. There is also a big crime element to this story, as well. More of a murder mystery that weaves itself through the story. Enjoy!
  11. Hey everyone, Evergreen has been updated through Chapter 11! Link to Chapter 2 So for anyone wanting more info than the nebulous first summary, this is an amnesia trope, but written realistically (none of that 'bonked on the head and now I'm cured stuff' or 'I can't remember my name or who I am'). With my background in psychology, I've always loved amnesia stories, but I've never written one. Since I intend for this to be the last fanfiction I write, I thought I would take a stab at it. There is also a big crime element to this story, as well. More of a murder mystery that weaves itself through the story. Enjoy!
  12. In my fanfiction, when I have to use a "real" name, I've named him "Ben" Davenport, since it's Ben Jones, but I don't think we ever get a hint of anything dealing with Cooter's real name.
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