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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. Hey everyone! I have a new fanfic annoucement (now that Halls of Stone and Iron is finally complete!). Come over and visit and stay awhile! Title: Evergreen Rating: Teen Tags: Angst/Drama/Angst/Adventure/more Angst...probably lots of Angst Chapters: Not as many as Stone and Iron! Probably around 30 chapters (watch me be completely off!) Characters: Daisy centric, but involves all characters. Pairing: It's no secret. Everyone who has ever read my stuff knows I write Enos/Daisy. Although that doesn't necessarily guarantee the ending.... Summary: Some things are temporary - some things endure forever. When an accident changes Daisy's life completely, the quest to recover what she has lost leads her on the journey of a lifetime. Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13549243/1/Evergreen
  3. 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
  4. 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
  5. I can't find the original post for this story with its synopsis (and I'm not sure it ever was posted in this part of the forum), so forgive me for reposting. Halls of Stone and Iron - by wenn9366 (Fanfiction.net), EnosIsMyHero (Hazzardnet) Rating: High T (teen) for violence/psychological trama Tags: Crime/Suspense/Psychological Trauma/Adventure *no sexual assault. Chapters: 73/70, 220,000+ words. Currently 'In Progress' with about 6 chapters left. Characters: Enos centric, but involves all characters. Enos/Daisy pairing, but a very slow burn. Summary: When Enos is arrested for a murder he didn't commit, his life will never be the same. Remanded to the Fulton County Jail in Atlanta to await trial, how long can he hold on to his sanity in a world where the only good cop is a dead one? So...It's been a long time, readers! Sorry, life grabbed me and sucked me in. But..I'm back and so is Halls of Stone and Iron!! This is almost finished, and remaining chapters will follow ASAP. This has been on my plate to finish for a long time, and I am so grateful to everyone who has continued to read and leaves reviews! Love you guys!!! Link is to the whole story, since it's been so long... Halls of Stone and Iron
  6. Hey guys, EnosIsMyHero here, ( otherwise known as WENN9366 on fanfiction.net)! I'm the author of that hugely monstrous novel over on FFnet, Halls of Stone and Iron. At over 220,000 words, I can understand why some readers would hesitate to wade into such a committment! So, I thought I would post something shorter to give you a feel of how I write. The following is actually a one-shot sequel of another novel of mine, The Story of Us, which is a backstory for the characters of Daisy Duke and Enos Strate, using the canon we know from the series. However, this one-shot can be read as a stand alone without reading the previous story, although it does hint at a few things that happened. If you like it, please visit my profile on ffnet to read my other stories! LINK *Also, feel free to post replies to this thread. Hymn for Yesterday March, 1972 Birds twittered, fluttering about in the bright sunlight of the chilly March morning, and a warm breeze blew from the field across the road, swaying the limbs with their newly formed buds in its ebb and flow. The day was alive with life, welcoming the coming of spring after the long, harsh winter of 1971. Yet, with life came death of a kind that bore bitterly into the hearts of even the roughest Hazzard County had to offer. A slip of fate – tragic and senseless, the fact of which made the consequences only harder to accept. Her eyes sought his where he stood, caught them, and held them a moment before he looked away, back to the bier and its oak coffin and the green, plastic carpet concealing a shallow, dark shaft in the New Friendship Cemetery. He was dressed in the uniform of Hazzard's finest, and Daisy recalled how full her heart had been the first time she had seen him wearing it, and of the proud gleam in Enos' eyes as Sheriff Harris had sworn him in as a deputy. Had she thought it was a game? Playing police officer - as she, Luke, and himself had done so many times growing up. Revenuers and moonshiners... If she'd ever held such an illusion, it had come shattering down two days ago in a rain of a thousand tiny shards – burying themselves deep into her heart, and she doubted if she would ever be able to dig them out completely. It should have been him. A tightness began in her chest at the thought, but she'd promised herself she wouldn't cry again. It was wrong, she felt, to weep over what had not happened instead of what had. It had been a typical Friday evening, with the boot-leggers gearing up for their runs...in fast cars, loaded with high-proof whiskey. The CB on the kitchen counter had been tuned to Channel 9 that day, Uncle Jesse wanting to get a feel for where the Sheriff had stationed his deputies before his run up to Johnson City - a game of cat and mouse that the Dukes had played for so long it hardly bore thinking about. She had listened absently as she'd made dinner, but mostly it had been chatter, procedural codes for this and that, locations of the three patrol cars; Rosco, in Hazzard #2, Travis in Hazzard #3, and Enos in Hazzard #4. Travis Ecklund was in his second year with the Sheriff's Department, hailing from Acworth, Georgia, a small town just north of Atlanta. His father was a railroad man which, though more legal than a ridgerunner, was just about as poor. He and Enos had become fast friends. The sun was dipping low on the horizon, bathing the quiet farmyard in warm tones of gold and orange, when Rosco had put out a call for someone to chase down a '66 Comet speeding west on Ridge Road, himself already busy with another traffic stop. "10-4, Hazzard 2," came Enos' reply, "ETA five minutes." There was a few seconds of static and then, "Enos, I'm right here on Ridge and Possum Lick, I'll get him." "10-4, Hazzard 3. Don't let him out-fox ya', Travis." "I was born behind a wheel, Strate," Travis had laughed. "See ya' at the station." "10-4, Ecklund. Hazzard 4 out." Twelve minutes later, Enos came over the radio once more, worry evident in his voice. "Hazzard 3, please copy." ...Silence. "Hazzard 3, Travis, I just heard a mighty big explosion from over your way. You alright, buddy roe?" ...Silence. "Hazzard 2, 10-25 Hazzard 3?" "I ain't heard from him, either, Enos." "I'm right here at Ridge so I'll check on him. Maybe his radio ain't working again." "10-4 Enos, Rosco out." They said you could see the flames ten miles away as darkness fell - burning like the gates of Hell up on that ridge. A rock slide had stopped the Comet dead in its tracks, just around a blind corner with Hazzard #3 tight on its tail. There were no skid marks. Travis had never seen it coming. Her eyes drank him in as though he were a mirage that might fade away into nothing. If he'd taken the call, he would be the one in that coffin, and...and.... She lowered her head to conceal the tears rolling down her cheeks, falling like drops of rain on the memorial card in her hands.. He glanced back up as she looked down, across the quiet stretch of earth between them. Her shoulders hitched slightly, betraying her sorrow. He watched her – loving her more than the sun, moon, and stars above, and his throat tightened as he thought of where she should be - a bittersweet memory, sleeping still and silent beneath the trees whose only season was a season of death. The day after he had returned to Hazzard for the last time, the front page story in the Tri-County Times had stopped him cold. It had taken his breath away and damn near made him grab her and shake her until she repeated the promise she'd made to him the night she'd come home wasted. No one in his life had ever been given a second chance, but the Good Lord had brought her back to the farm, safe and sound. He'd gotten up and gone over to where she was cooking, passing the paper to her without a word. Slowly, the color drained from her cheeks, and she'd reached out, grasping his shoulder to steady herself before stumbling past him and out the kitchen door. The dead, he'd supposed, affected everyone differently – and discovering you should by all rights be numbered among them was a painful blessing under the best of circumstances. His own tears that fell later, in the quiet of his room, were those of thanksgiving mingled with guilt. She'd come back to the farm that night instead of staying at that party, while 28 drunken teenagers burned to death in a shack on the banks of Moccasin Creek. A hard lesson, learned by chance. The blaze had spread like wildfire the paper said, fueled by high-proof moonshine. There had been no survivors.
  7. Hi Everyone! This is my first FanFic! It has been up for awhile and is nearing completion. I'm a rookie...so bear with me! Please check it out here: The Diaries of Circle M Ranch Enos's world is turned upside down when he receives an unexpected gift that comes with a huge secret. Angst/Romance/Drama/Mystery/Adventure/Humor
  8. The Story of Us explores the history of Enos and Daisy from age 10 to the beginning of the series. It is mainly from Enos' POV, though many parts are from Daisy's POV, and delves into events from his childhood that shaped not only the people they came to be, but their relationship as well. The Story of Us is also the back-story for the novella, Beneath a Hazzard Moon, but both can be read as stand-alone stories. The Story of Us can be found here. Subsequent updates will be posted to this thread.
  9. This story is for the "Cliche' Challenge" (and also the "Christmas Challenge", but I think I'm about 6 years too late for that one). What else could be more cliche'd than a parody of the timeless classic "It's a Wonderful Life"? In this case, Daisy gets to see how the lives of those around her - and even Hazzard itself, would be different if she'd never been born...and perhaps learn a thing or two about herself along the way. This story takes place the Christmas after "Enos and Daisy's Wedding". Warning: If you're looking for just a sweet, little happy-go-lucky Christmas story, you might just want to skip straight to the end. Also, this story can be read as a stand-alone, but the memories that Daisy has of Enos are taken from "The Story of Us". I've tried to flesh them out enough here in this story that you'll get the picture even if you haven't read that fanfic, though. Link to first half ---> "Before the Dawn"
  10. Hey everyone One of my passions is creating fanvids, but it's been a while since I've had time to work on any (that and apparently Powerdirector doesn't like my .avi's so I had to convert them all to mp4's first ). Anywho, here's a fanvid I've been wanting to do for a long, long time. This song just screamed "Enos" to me the first time I heard it. This can be found on YouTube here: or if YT gets cranky and takes it down, it can be found here permanently: http://www.divshare.com/download/15620665-b07
  11. First, I want to thank everyone here for their encouragement on my fic "Beneath a Hazzard Moon". It's because of all your wonderful reviews and support that I decided to write the back-story down that I used while writing that novella. This fanfiction, "The Story of Us", is a collection of vignettes - following certain events in the lives of Enos and Daisy while growing up. Each chapter begins a new story and can be read as stand-alone stories without having read "Beneath a Hazzard Moon" - in fact, it would probably be best to read at least the first chapter of the back-story before you do. This first chapter follows mainly ten year old Enos's POV, but the other chapters will focus more on the two together. Chapter 1 - Justice Life is hard in the back hills of northwestern Hazzard County where moonshining is a way of life. When 10 year old Enos's aunt goes missing, he believes he holds the key to her discovery - but telling the truth isn't always easy.
  12. Yes, the October 2011 Fan o' the Month is i1976!! i1976 is a reknown Enos and Daisy fan who joined HazzardNet back in February of 2007! With over 600 posts to our Forums, and with contributions of artwork to our Image Gallery and stories to our Fanfiction sections, i1976 is a creative Dukes of Hazzard fan who certainly deserves recognition! i1976 has always been friendly and encouraging to other members of HazzardNet and sets a great example for Dukes fans everywhere. Join us in congratulating her!
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