MaryAnne brought her patrol car to a stop in front of the courthouse and she and Jim got out.  She waited on the sidewalk for Jim to come around the car and then walked with him into the courthouse.         The booking room was empty but the door to Rosco’s office was slightly ajar. MaryAnne stepped toward it.         "Rosco?" she called pushing the door open.         The older Coltrane looked up as MaryAnne and a tall stranger came in.  Rosco stood up as MaryAnne said, "Want you to meet someone.  This is Jim Rockford.  Jim, this is my cousin, Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane."         "Hi," Jim said and put his hand out.         Rosco shook the man’s hand and smiled. "Howdy."         "Jim’s a private investigator from LA.  He’s lookin’ for Enos.  His car broke down just outside of town and since the hotel is full, I figured he could stay with us."         "Oh, sure," Rosco said.  He looked at Jim. "Lookin’ for Enos, huh?"         "Yeah," Jim said. "I’m working on a murder case that happened when he was a rookie there.  I was hired by the widow after the cops closed it.  She says that Enos believed her theory on who the killer might have been at the time.  So, I’m here to ask him about it."

Hazzard Pursuit A Rockford/Dukes of Hazzard Adventure By Lisa Philbrick  Jim Rockford might never be anyone’s idea of a Fortune magazine cover story. I can’t see Donald Trump holding court from a trailer at the beach, and I doubt Bill Gates would ever have hung out with the likes of Angel Martin or Fred Beamer. Jimbo’s financial “portfolio” likely comprises three or four bills he’s been putting off paying ‘til that “big case” rolls in and a government-printed portrait of Andrew Jackson he has in reserve to pay Angel for an important tip (and that he’ll probably have to lean on Angel later to get back, when the tip fizzles like July 5 fireworks from the Wal-Mart clearance table. But he had The Car. The Bird, gleaming gold on the Paradise Cove parking lot like the Hope Diamond in a cheap asphalt setting. Now, I never was a big “car” guy – I picked my current Nissan Sentra sedan cause it looked good on my savings account and because the sales guy wore me down. But when I was 17, starting down the road of life in a rotten-egg-colored used ’73 Toyota Corolla, that Firebird represented the potential realization of every social, romantic, and erotic teen dream I harbored. Sure, Jim probably had had more ribs doctored than Chili’s did during its monthly Baby Back Ribs Special, and he’d been stiffed so many times by shifty clients that his socks probably had extra starch. But when he was screaming down the side streets of L.A., doing wild shrieking “yooeys” on the rush hour freeway, recklessly chasing a tail as clumsily inconspicuous as a peacock’s plumage, you had to imagine he was thinking it was good he hadn’t let Rocky talk him into being a trucker or accountant. Point is, by the ‘70s, the cool car was one of the few unsullied symbols of the American Dream, and the sound of screeching tires was a sort of anthem to freedom and possibility. Smokey might have held the badge and the power, but The Bandit could always outrun him and get Sally Fields in the end. You might have mob suits and mob jewelry and mob digs, but just try to chase down Jim Rockford in your puttering mob Caddy. You can dream your wild dreams of greed, avarice, and power, but if you try it in Hazzard County, the Duke Boys’ll likely leave you choking on the General Lee’s exhaust. And thereby hangs our tale. If two shows ever epitomized our love of the car and its liberating potential, they were The Rockford Files and The Dukes of Hazzard. Jim could have been the cynical urban cousin of Bo, Luke, and Daisy, grooving on Bakersfield Buck Owens instead of Waylon and Charlie, sparring with Chapman and Diehl instead of tap-dancing around Boss Hogg. Lisa here recognized this essential connection – a sort of car-mic connection, if you’re a spiritual person – and documented the little-known Rockford file that follows. In it, Jim gets his chance to race his motor with those good ‘ole boys of Hazzard County, and if you’d care to settle down with some home brew and a plate of fried necks and gizzards (don’t get the keyboard greasy, though), she’d be pleased as an eight-point buck that made it through November to tell you about it... Lisa Philbrick is a major Rockford fan, with her own site at http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/ Studio/7464/Rockford_Files/rockfrd.html, and is the author of several Dukes of Hazzard fanfics.

                *                       *                       *

        Jim found out from the police Personnel department where Enos currently was,
and as he was driving back to his trailer, Angel was hitting the streets, earning his fifty
bucks, and a lot of trouble for Jim.
        Angel, unfortunately, wasn’t getting any helpful answers in regards to the coins,
but he was asking the right person at this particular stop.  Angel had known Joey
McGinnis for years, even did a little business with him on occasion.  Joey did know
about the coins but he told Angel that he didn’t, because he had been asked--no,
threatened--to not reveal who had sold the coins to him and to who he in turn sold the
coins to.
        After Angel left, Joey went in the back to his office and picked up the phone.
        "I know it’s been four years," he said after the line connected, "but somebody’s
asking about those coins..."

                *                       *                       *

        Later that evening, Jim was on the phone to Diane with what little he had so far.
        "Very little," he said. "That rookie cop you talked about isn’t in LA anymore.
He’s from Georgia and went back there about three years ago.  I’m still waiting to get a
line on those coins, but after four years I probably won’t get much on that."
        "So what does that leave?" Diane asked.
        "Well, I was thinking of flying to Georgia to talk to the cop and see what he
remembers from the case and what he thought was significant."
        "Lot of cold leads, huh?"
        "Yeah, I’m afraid so."
        Diane sighed.  "I guess it’s just meant to be this way."
        "Well, if I can’t get a line on the coins and if nothing comes up from talking to
the cop, I may still have one more card to play."
        "Can I ask what that may be?"
        Jim hesitated. "Well, it’s not exactly legal."
        "Never mind," Diane said. "I don’t want to know."  She laughed though. "If it
should come to that, do me a favor will you?  Don’t get caught."
        Jim smiled. "I don’t intend to."
        It was a little while later when Angel arrived to collect his fifty bucks.
        "You didn’t find anything?" Jim asked.
        "It was weird, Jimmy, nobody knew anything about those coins.  I mean nobody
and I talked to a lot of people.  Either you got a bum piece of information or those coins
weren’t sold out of here."
        "Or they were sold and the person conveniently forgot."
        Angel made a face, agreeing that that could be true.  "So what are you going to do
now?"
        "Fly to Georgia."
        "What’s there?"
        "A former rookie cop who believed Diane Lloyd’s theory about her husband’s
death.  Lives in a place called Hazzard County."
        Angel chuckled. "Hazzard? What the heck kind of name is that?"
        Jim shrugged. He pulled out two twenty’s and ten from his pocket.  As he handed
the money to Angel, he said, "Thanks anyways, Angel."

                *                       *                       *
        Jim was able to book a flight to Atlanta for 11:30am the next day.  In the morning
he called his father to tell him where he was going and for how long.
        "It probably won’t be more than a couple of days but can you get my mail and
check on the trailer?"
        "Sure thing, sonny. Where abouts in Georgia you goin’ to?"
        "Place called Hazzard County.  It’s south of Atlanta. I’ll have to get a map when I
get there."
        Shoot, it ain’t that hard to find.  Unfortunately for Jim, he won’t be the only
one going to Hazzard.
        Angel’s morning was already off to a great start.  He didn’t get even ten feet from
his apartment building when he was suddenly grabbed from behind and pulled into the
alley.
        "What?! What is this?" he demanded.  His eyes darted back and forth between
two suit attired men.  One of them had a firm grip on Angel’s shirt and had him pushed
against the brick wall of the building.
        "You were asking around yesterday about some rare coins," the other man stated.
"Why?"
        "Coins? Coins? I wasn’t asking about any coins."
        The first man tightened his grip and pushed Angel harder against the wall.
        "Uh, well, I might have been inquiring a little about some coins, yeah."
        "Why?" the other man demanded.
        "Well, uh, an acquaintance of mine was interested."
        "In what way?"
        "I--I don’t know. I think he wanted to buy them."
        The man holding Angel suddenly threw him to the ground.  When Angel turned to
look at the two men, the one who had thrown him had a gun pointed at him.
        "Wait! Wait a minute. Alright, what do you want to know?"
        "Who is this acquaintance?"
        "His name’s Jim Rockford. He’s a PI."
        "What does he want to know about the coins?"
        "He just wanted to know who’s bought or sold them.  One of the two guys who
had purchased them from some estate auction four years ago was murdered and the
widow thinks the partner did it."
        "Where is this Jim Rockford?"
        "Malibu.  But he may not be there now because he’s flying to Georgia today."
        "Atlanta?"
        "Yeah, but he’s going to some place called Hazzard to find some former rookie
cop named Strate."
        "Where in Malibu does this Rockford live?"
        "Cove Road, on the coast. It’s a house trailer by the Sand Castle restaurant."
        Gee, why doesn’t Angel just write out the directions for them?
        The man who had been doing all the talking seemed content with the answers
Angel gave.  He nodded to his associate, who replaced the gun back into the shoulder
holster and then picked Angel up off the ground and to his feet.  He brushed his shirt off
and then smiled and gave Angel’s bearded face a pat.
        Angel remained still, carefully watching the two men walk out of the alley.
        Well, now that Angel has sung like bird loud enough to ruin a peaceful Sunday
mornin’, Jim will be bringing not just his big city charm with him, but big city trouble
too.

Chapter 2
        The sun was on it’s way to another deep golden set in the western sky when
MaryAnne turned her patrol car on to the smooth pavement of Route 35.  She flipped the
visor down, taking a moment to enjoy the colors of Hazzard County that shown in the
early evening sun.  It had been several weeks since Hazzard had experienced any trouble,
to which MaryAnne learned not to take the peace for granted.  In the eight and a half
months since she’d moved back to Hazzard, MaryAnne had learned that trouble could
come to Hazzard in just about any form. And at anytime.
        As she came around the turn, MaryAnne spotted a white 1984 Firebird off the
side of the road.  The hood was up and MaryAnne could see the vapors coming off the
engine.  Just before she pulled over in front of the car, she saw the driver, a tall dark
haired man wearing a blue sport coat and gray slacks, come around from the front of the
car.  He looked at the patrol car and turned and watched it come to a stop.
        MaryAnne stepped out of her car and approached the handsome stranger.
        "Howdy," she greeted and smiled.
        "Hi," Jim replied.  He returned the smile, obviously having no problem with
being assisted by an attractive female deputy.
        "What seems to be the trouble?" she asked stepping toward the engine of the
Firebird.
        "Fan belt let go," Jim said.  "I’m lucky I didn’t drop the whole engine."
        MaryAnne looked at the busted belt that rested on the engine block.  "Ooh, yeah."
She shook her head disgustedly. "They just ain’t makin’ Firebirds like they used to."
        "Tell me about it.  I should have just brought mine."
        She looked at Jim. "You got one?"
        "Yeah. ‘78 Firebird Esprit."
        "No kiddin’! I got a ‘78 too." She paused and then asked, "What’s your name?"
        "Jim Rockford."
        MaryAnne put her hand out. "MaryAnne Coltrane."
        "Nice to meet you," Jim said taking her hand.
        MaryAnne took a moment to glance at his hand, then as they let go she asked,
"Can I ask where you’re headed to?"
        "Hazzard."
        "Hazzard? Really?"
        "Yeah. I’m a private investigator from Los Angeles and I’m looking for a former
rookie cop named Enos Strate."
        "Enos? Well, you’ve come to the right place but unfortunately Enos isn’t in town
now.  He won’t be back ‘til tomorrow.  Listen, why don’t I give Cooter a call on the radio
and have him tow in this manufacturing monstrosity and I’ll give you a lift into town."
She paused and smiled. "I’d offer you the hospitality of the Hazzard Hotel but they’re
full.  All six rooms."
        Jim chuckled.
        "I suppose you could stay with us, I’ll have to ask Rosco though."
        "Who’s that?"
        "My cousin, who just happens to be the Sheriff of Hazzard County."
        Jim smiled amusingly as MaryAnne walked back to her patrol car to call Cooter.
        Were y’all watchin’? I think MaryAnne likes him already.  Folks, that’s what I
call fallin’ fast!
        After MaryAnne called Cooter on the CB, she had Jim put his bags in her patrol
car and she drove him back to town.
        The two men had seen the deputy pull over and they now watched as Jim got into
the patrol car and the white cruiser drove away.
        You haven’t forgotten about these two have you?
        "What do we do now?" Murray, the man who had manhandled Angel back in LA
asked. "If he’s cozyin’ up to the fuzz we’ll never get to him."
        "We will, we will," Russ replied.  "We know he’s here to talk to that former cop
who’s a deputy here.  We don’t get one, we get the other."
        Uh-oh. Maybe Enos oughta stay in Capital City for awhile longer.
        MaryAnne brought her patrol car to a stop in front of the courthouse and she and
Jim got out.  She waited on the sidewalk for Jim to come around the car and then walked
with him into the courthouse.
        The booking room was empty but the door to Rosco’s office was slightly ajar.
MaryAnne stepped toward it.
        "Rosco?" she called pushing the door open.
        The older Coltrane looked up as MaryAnne and a tall stranger came in.  Rosco
stood up as MaryAnne said, "Want you to meet someone.  This is Jim Rockford.  Jim,
this is my cousin, Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane."
        "Hi," Jim said and put his hand out.
        Rosco shook the man’s hand and smiled. "Howdy."
        "Jim’s a private investigator from LA.  He’s lookin’ for Enos.  His car broke
down just outside of town and since the hotel is full, I figured he could stay with us."
        "Oh, sure," Rosco said.  He looked at Jim. "Lookin’ for Enos, huh?"
        "Yeah," Jim said. "I’m working on a murder case that happened when he was a
rookie there.  I was hired by the widow after the cops closed it.  She says that Enos
believed her theory on who the killer might have been at the time.  So, I’m here to ask
him about it."
        "And, since Enos isn’t here right now, Jim would have to stay somewhere for the
night anyway."  MaryAnne gave Jim a sideways glance and smiled.  "Since we have a
guest room, might as well let him use it."
        "Yeah," Rosco said. "No problem."  He looked at MaryAnne.  There was
something about the look on her face as she gazed up at the tall handsome man.  It was
something Rosco hadn’t seen in a long time.

                *                       *                       *

        Coming into town, Bo and Luke Duke saw Cooter towing in the new model
Firebird.  Not a car that the boys saw regularly, they stopped at the garage to inquire
about it.
        "Hey," Cooter greeted when he got out of his truck.
        "Hey, Cooter," Luke said. He gestured to the Firebird. "Where’d you get this
thing?"
        "Ain’t it a shame? An ol’ boy broke down with it just outside of town.  MaryAnne
found him."
        "Know who it is?"
        "Nope.  They’re over at the courthouse now." Cooter looked towards the building
across the street.  He saw MaryAnne then come out with a city dressed stranger. "There
they are now."
        The boys turned and looked.
        MaryAnne turned to Jim. "Listen, uh, if you’re hungry, we’ve got a couple of
diners here in town.  They’re not too bad."
        Jim smiled.  "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea but let me check with the
mechanic about the car.  Let him know it’s a rental."
        MaryAnne chuckled. "Yeah, don’t wanna get stuck with the repair bill."
        "Yeah," Jim agreed.  As Jim walked across the street, Bo and Luke were coming
over to the courthouse.  They said ‘howdy’ to Jim as they passed and then approached
MaryAnne.
        "Hey, fellas," she said.
        "Hey, MaryAnne," Bo said. "Who’s that?"
        "His name’s Jim Rockford.  He’s a private investigator from LA."
        "LA?" Luke questioned.  "He on his way to Atlanta?"
        "Nope. He’s here lookin’ for Enos. He’s workin’ on a case that Enos might be
some help on.  A murder that happened when Enos was a cop there."
        The boys looked at each other.
        "What?" MaryAnne asked.
        "Are you sure about all that, MaryAnne?" Luke said.
        "Of course I’m sure. Why?"
        "Well, the last time somebody from LA came here lookin’ for Enos, the guy was a
hit man."
        "Oh come on," MaryAnne said. "Does Jim look like a hitman to you?"
        "No, but the guy we picked up didn’t look like hit man either," Bo said.
        "And did the guy say out loud he was lookin’ for Enos?"
        "Well, no."
        "Alright then. If Jim’s a hit man he’s a pretty stupid one for tellin’ both me and
the Sheriff his intended target."
        "MaryAnne, we just think this guy oughta be checked out."
        "And I’m tellin ya, he’s legitimate. I think you fellas are bein’ a bit foolish
judging a person like that.  I had expected different from you two."  Not giving the boys a
chance to respond, MaryAnne walked across the street to the garage.
        The boys watched her meet up with Jim. She turned her head slightly and gave
the boys a cross glance and then she and Jim headed towards the square.
        "Do you think we are being foolish?" Bo asked.
        "I don’t know. I tell ya tho’, when Enos gets back tomorrow we tell him this
guy’s lookin’ for him and keep an eye out for him.  Maybe MaryAnne’s right and this guy
is legit, but if he isn’t we’re not gonna stand around and let something happen to Enos."
        "Yeah."
        Now the boys’ concern is understandable when it comes to things like the safety
of their family or friends, but them boys can be a little bull headed and trying to
convince them that Jim means no harm to Enos, is about as easy as reversing a buzz
saw.
        Over at the cafe, Jim and MaryAnne were talkin’ about the one thing they had in
common at the moment.
        "It’s a great car," Jim said.  "If I had known the one I rented was going to die on
me I would’ve brought it with me."
        MaryAnne smiled.  "Did Cooter say how long it would take him to fix the
rental?"
        "About a day and a half. Now my Firebird wouldn’t have quit on me.  I’ve driven
that thing from LA to Vegas and back.  That’s a good five hour drive. I’m amazed the
rental made it out of Atlanta."
        MaryAnne chuckled.  "How long have you had the ‘78?"
        "Bought it new.  Had to replace the ‘77, which had been bought new to replace
the ‘76, which had been bought new to replace the ‘75, which had been bought new to
replace the ‘74."
        MaryAnne’s eyes bugged out. "Holy mackeral."
        "Oh yeah, I’ve lost a lot of cars in my line of work.  The ‘74 was blown up, the
‘75 I lost over a cliff, the ‘76 was blown up, and the ‘77 was blown up over a cliff.
Thankfully, the ‘78’s been a keeper because I don’t particularly like the new design."
        MaryAnne brought a hand to her mouth to try to stifle her laughter. "I’m sorry,"
she said, "it’s not funny but I had thought it was the end of the world when Maverick
took a  nose dive the day I moved back here. It took Cooter about a month and a half to
fix it."
        "Maverick?"
        MaryAnne could feel her face flush.  "Uh, yeah, I named my car.  He is a
maverick." She smiled. "Yes, he. Seeing as guys refer to cars, ships and whatever else as
‘she’ I thought I’d refer to Maverick as a ‘he.’"
        "Must be quite a car."
        "He is. I bought him at the police auction in Atlanta two years ago. Two hundred
dollars.  Of course, he wasn’t much of a car at the time.  That’s probably why I get so
ticked off when I get a scratch on him, considerin’ it took me so long to get him put
together."  MaryAnne caught the reaction in Jim’s dark brown eyes. "No, I didn’t put him
together.  A friend of my father’s who used to work on Mis--on my father’s car, did it for
me."
        Jim nodded and smiled.
        "But never mind about me.  I’m not the stranger in town, you are.  Must be
exciting to be a PI in Los Angeles."
        "It can be.  Most of the time I go for long spells without any work, or I’m sitting
in my car watching people who are supposed to be paralyzed or severely injured walk up
and down stairs with ease."
        "Well, for a guy who lost his car four years in a row it must’ve been exciting or at
least hair raising then?"
        "Oh it was definitely hair raising.  This case should be fairly routine compared to
some I’ve worked on."
        Ol’ Jim may want to reconsider that, ‘cuz look who just came into town.
        The two men who had got their information from Angel, rolled into to town in
their indiscreet maroon sedan.  They spotted the white Firebird at the garage and the
patrol car parked by the courthouse.  As they drove around the square they kept their eyes
peeled for Jim, completely missing him as they drove by the cafe.
        Don’t underestimate them yet.  They may be city folk, but they ain’t dumb.
        A little later, MaryAnne took Jim to the Coltrane house to settle in.
        MaryAnne and Jim came into the house with Jim carrying his bags and were
greeted by Bandit.
        "Hey, boy," MaryAnne said as she kneeled down to give the German Shepherd a
hug and rub on the side of his tummy.  She then looked up at Jim and said, "I hope you
like dogs."
        "Only if they like me."
        MaryAnne giggled.  "Bandit, say hello to Jim."
        The dog sat and looked up at Jim.
        "Put your hand out to him," MaryAnne said.  Jim did and Bandit lifted a paw and
placed it on Jim’s hand.
        Jim chuckled. "Hi, Bandit."
        Bandit barked in return.  The dog then dropped his paw and Jim gave him a pat
on the head and scratch behind the ears.
        "There," MaryAnne said. "You’ve just made a friend for life.  Rosco has a dog
too. A basset hound.  She’s a sweetheart, she’ll like ya."
        Jim smiled.
        "Well, I’ll show you the guest room.  By the way, Rosco and I will be in out of
here all night.  One of us will sleep for a couple of hours while the other one does a
patrol."
        "There’s just two of you?"
        "Well, three with Enos, but he won’t be back ‘til the mornin’." MaryAnne caught
Jim’s reaction again. "Yup, the entire Hazzard County Sheriffs Department is made up of
three officers.  You’re gonna find we do a lot of things different here in Hazzard."
        She ain’t kiddin’.
        Well, even tho’ Jim had a place to sleep, he wasn’t exactly tired.  See, nine
o’clock in Hazzard means it’s six o’clock in California.  And Jim certainly wasn’t tired
when nine rolled around.
        MaryAnne left to do the first patrol at 9, and Rosco made himself a cup of coffee
to keep himself awake during the two and half hours she was on the road.  When it had
just been him and Enos, it was fairly simple.  One would patrol while the other would
doze.  When MaryAnne had moved back to Hazzard and eventually joined his
department, he was thrilled and having three on a rotating schedule during the night
certainly made it easier.  For awhile anyway.  Rosco hadn’t been sleeping very well with
the events of the last couple of months still fresh in his mind.  He found himself worrying
sick about MaryAnne and he refused to sleep while she was on patrol, even though the
radio was right next to the couch and turned up loud enough to wake the dead.  He was so
afraid she would call for help and he wouldn’t hear her.  He wondered if this was what it
felt like to be a father.
        Well, I’m kind of a surrogate father, he thought with a smile as he paused a
moment in the kitchen and took a sip of the steaming Java. The aroma filled his nose and
he found himself perk up a little.  Of course, his thoughts continuing, she’s older than I
was when I was first elected Sheriff.  Wow, has it been THAT long?
        Rosco took another sip of the coffee.  He had managed to sneak a thirty minute
snooze when MaryAnne was with Jim at the cafe, which should be enough to get through
the next four hours.
        Jim seems like a likable fella, Rosco thought as he stepped out of the kitchen and
began to make his way down the hall toward the living room.  He glanced up the stairs
and saw the door to the guest room was open slightly and the light was on. Rosco sipped
at the coffee and then walked into the living room.  He placed the cup down and then
picked up the radio mike.
        "This is Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane callin’ Deputy MaryAnne Coltrane. Y’all right
out there?"
        "I’m fine, Rosco.  Will you get to sleep?"
        "I will, I will.  Just wanna make sure yer allright?"
        "Yes, I am fine," MaryAnne laughed.  "Now git!"
        "Ten-four," he giggled. "I’m gone." Rosco put the mike down and walked back to
the stairway.  The door to the guestroom was still open and the light was still on, so
Rosco climbed the stairs.
        "Mr. Rockford?" Rosco said, lightly tapping on the door.  The door creeped open
a little more and Rosco poked his head in.
        Jim was seated on the edge of the bed, his blue sport jacket carefully laid over the
end.  He was making notes in a little black notebook and looking at a yellow legal pad as
well.  He looked up.
        "Hi, Sheriff."
        "You can call me Rosco.  Not that I don’t like bein’ called ‘Sheriff,’ but you can
call me Rosco."
        Jim smiled. "And you can call me Jim."
        Rosco nodded. "I made some coffee if you’d like some."
        "Sure.  Take a break from all of this for a moment." Jim got up and he followed
Rosco down the stairs.
        "Have you had any luck in this case yet?" Rosco asked as they came into the
kitchen.  Rosco grabbed a coffee mug out of the cupboard and handed it to Jim.
        "Thanks.  No, I haven’t had much of anything yet.  Of course, I just started
yesterday." Jim poured himself a cup of the coffee.
        "You really think Enos is gonna be any help?"
        "Depends on what he remembers about the case.  It was four years ago."
        "Yeah.  Considerin’ it’s Enos, the dipstick probably won’t remember anything."
        Jim laughed.  "Dipstick?"
        Rosco giggled.  "I always call him that.  He’s just Enos.  The dipstick."
        Jim chuckled. He took a sip of the coffee and then said, "Aren’t you supposed to
be snoozing?"
        "Yeah, but I don’t when it’s just me and MaryAnne and she’s on the road."
        Jim nodded.  "She’s quite an interesting young woman. How long has she been a
deputy?"
        "Here in Hazzard? Only about six months.  She’s been in law enforcement since
she was 20 tho’." Rosco paused. "Maybe I’m being foolish worrying about her so much,
but after the past couple of months I can’t take any chances."
        "More trouble than usual?"
        Rosco nodded. "A couple of close calls.  For both of us."
        "Well, you won’t have to worry about me causing you any trouble.  After I talk to
Enos I’ll be heading back to LA."
        Unfortunately for Jim, he’s gonna come to regret those words.

Chapter 3
        "I can understand you boys bein’ concerned for Enos and all," Jesse was saying,
"but I think MaryAnne’s judgment is better than what you’re implying."
        It was the next morning and the Duke family were all seated at their kitchen table,
eating a breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon.
        "We’re not implying anything about her judgment," Luke said.  "Heck, she seems
to like him.  They were over at the cafe for the whole time me and Bo were in town.  But
we’re still gonna warn Enos that this guy Rockford’s lookin’ for him and he should be
careful.  I just wish there was some way we could check this guy out ourselves."
        "But what if MaryAnne’s right, and this guy is who he says?" Daisy asked.
        "Then we apologize really nice.  I have a feelin’ tho’ it’s gonna be the other way
around," Luke said.

                *                       *                       *

        As the boys were getting ready to head out to try to meet Enos before he got to
town, MaryAnne was handing her keys to Maverick to Jim.
        "Rosco and I won’t be headin’ to town just yet.  We gotta do one more swing
through the county, so you can take Maverick and meet Enos in town.  He’ll be comin’ in
in awhile."
        "Okay. Thanks."
        MaryAnne smiled sweetly.  "No problem."

        A little later Enos, was coming over the county line from Hatchapie County.  He
was driving leisurely enjoying another peaceful Hazzard morning.
        The two men were sitting in their maroon sedan off the road, hidden in the
bushes.  They watched as the white Plymouth patrol car went by.
        "Okay, Murray, let’s get him," Russ said. Murray started the sedan and followed
out after Enos.
        Coming down the road from the other direction were Bo and Luke in the General.
There only being one direct road to Capital City, the boys were keeping their eyes peeled
for Enos in his patrol car.
        Enos, meanwhile, glanced in his side mirror and saw the maroon sedan coming up
fast behind him.  He looked at the rearview in time to see it disappear into his blind spot
and then the car was suddenly beside him.
        He turned his head to look and saw two city looking men looking back at him.
The driver then suddenly jerked the steering hard to the right, slamming the sedan into
the patrol car.
        "Ah!" Enos exclaimed gripping the steering wheel to keep the swerving Plymouth
on the road. "Hey! Watch it!"
        Murray swung the steering wheel again and the sedan and patrol car traded more
paint.
        As the boys came around the turn they saw the two cars fighting in the middle of
the road.
        "Holy smokes, Bo!"
        Bo stepped on the accelerator and the General sped up to try to save the Duke
boys’s friend.  The maroon sedan made one final hit on the patrol car sending Enos flying
off the side of the road.  The patrol car leapt over the bush and turned on it’s side, then
crashed down and eventually landed on it’s roof, crushing the blue and red gumballs.
        The maroon car sped past the boys, both Bo and Luke trying to get a good look at
the plate.
        "I got the number. Let’s make sure Enos is okay," Luke said.
        "Yeah." Bo brought the General to a stop by the patrol car.  The boys scrambled
out of the General and ran to the patrol car.
        "Enos! Enos, are you all right?" Bo called.  He and Luke kneeled down by the
driver window.
        "Yeah, I’m fine," Enos replied.  He then climbed out of the car and the boys
assisted him to stand.
        "What the heck was that all about?" Enos squeaked.
        "We think we might be able to explain some of it, but we’re takin’ you back to
the farm first," Luke said.
        "Luke, what’s goin’ on?"
        "There’s this guy from LA lookin’ for you, Enos," Bo said. "He claims to be a PI,
but me and Luke ain’t so sure."
        "Especially after that. We’ll explain it all back at the farm," Luke said. "C’mom."
        The boys and Enos hurried back to the General and after all three were in, Bo tore
off back to the farm.
        The two men, meanwhile, had pulled their sedan off the road.
        "Those two in that orange car saw us," Murray said.  "What do we do?"
        "First thing we do is get rid of this car for another.  Then we find Rockford, finish
him off and get out of this hayseed country."
        If y’all thought the boys were just suspicious of Jim, well, you can forget that.
Now, the line has been clearly drawn, with the Dukes on one side and the Coltranes on
the other.  And the person who’s really in danger, Jim, is caught in the middle.
        Jim was standing alone in the booking room looking at the old framed wanted
posters from before and after the turn of the century.  He’d been waiting for Enos for
almost an hour and was still waiting when Rosco and MaryAnne returned to town.
        "Enos isn’t back yet?" MaryAnne said after she and Rosco came into the booking
room.  "That’s funny, I thought he’d be here by now."
        Rosco was standing by the window and out of the corner of his eye he saw a
familiar sight.  A patrol car being towed behind Cooter’s truck.  He turned his head to
look and placed his index finger and thumb between the blinds to get a clearer view.
        "Judas Priest on a pony!"
        "What?" MaryAnne said walking up beside him and looking out.
        "It’s Enos’s patrol car," Rosco said.
        "Holy smokes," MaryAnne exclaimed.  She turned and darted out of the booking
room.  Rosco and Jim followed.
        "Cooter," MaryAnne called as she ran across the street. "Cooter, where’s Enos? Is
he okay?"
        Cooter turned to MaryAnne.  He then saw Rosco and then he saw Jim.  He
regarded Jim suspiciously for a moment then said, "Yeah, Enos is fine."
        "Where is he?" she asked.
        Cooter looked at Jim long enough for MaryAnne to realize she wasn’t going to
get an answer.
        "Aw geez, I ain’t believin’ this," she spat.  "Well, whadaya think, Jim? All the
good ol’ boys here in Hazzard County think you’re a hit man after Enos."
        "What?" Jim and Rosco said dumbfounded.
        "A hit man.  Isn’t that something?  Apparently the last time somebody from LA
came to Hazzard lookin’ for Enos, the person was a hit man." She looked at Cooter. "Of
course, I wouldn’t know, I wasn’t here but I’m sure Bo and Luke Duke are tellin’ the
truth.  However, it really irks the hell out of me that they’re passing judgment on Jim
here just because of where he’s from and who he’s lookin’ for."  She clapped her hands
together. "Oh my God, he must be a hit man! Do me a favor will you, Cooter? If you see
the boys give them this message: If and when they finally realize that Jim means no harm
to Enos, they can save their stupid apology and can go to.... "  She stopped herself short
and then spun around on her heel and stormed back across the street.
        "Ooh, she’s mad now," Rosco said to no one in particular.  He looked at Jim.
"C’mon, Jim."  Rosco glanced at Cooter then turned Jim, who was still trying to figure
out what the heck happened, by the arm, and they headed back to the courthouse.
        MaryAnne was fuming in the middle of the booking room.  "Them dang boys
think they know everything!"
        "Somebody want to tell me what the hell that was all about?" Jim asked.
        "Yeah," Rosco said. "I’d like to know too."
        MaryAnne turned to the two. She told them what had happened the night before
with the conversation she had with the boys about Jim.
        "Now something’s happened to Enos," she said. "My guess is somebody ran him
off the road or something and the boys found him.  They then told Cooter their suspicions
when they called him to pick up the patrol car, that being that you are a professional hit
man here to settle some score with Enos."
        Jim rolled his eyes.
        "Yeah. And they accuse Rosco of watchin’ too much TV."  She paused in thought
for a moment.
        As if reading the same thoughts, Rosco said, "Maybe somebody didn’t want you
to talk to Enos."
        "I was just thinkin’ the same thing," MaryAnne said. "Does anybody else know
you’re here?"
        "Well, the lady that hired me, Diane Lloyd, my father and a friend of mine, Angel
Martin."  Jim then remembered what he had said to Angel about nobody saying anything
about the coins.  "Or somebody sold them and then conveniently forgot."
        It was possible Angel had spooked somebody.
        "Would it be allright if I made a long distance phone call?" Jim asked.
        "Sure," MaryAnne said. "Oh, wait." She looked at Rosco and together they said,
"Maybelle."
        "Who’s Maybelle?"
        "The switchboard operator," Rosco said.  "She’s Boss Hogg’s cousin and you can
bet dollars to donuts she’ll be listening in.  Very carefully."
        "Unless we commandeer the switchboard." MaryAnne smiled. "You know, for
official police business."
        Rosco snickered.

                *                       *                       *

        While MaryAnne and Rosco were about to commandeer the switchboard, Enos
was making a phone call from the Duke farm in regards to the license number Luke
had got from that sedan.
        "Okay," Enos was saying.  "Thank you very much."  He hung up the Duke’s
living room telephone and looked at Jesse, Bo and Luke.
        "It’s a car belonging to a rental agency in Atlanta," he said.
        "I knew it," Luke said.
        "Now, wait a minute, Luke," Enos started.
        "It all makes sense now. The two guys that ran ya off the road have to be workin’
with Rockford.  While he’s got MaryAnne and Rosco busy lookin’ the other way, these
two were tryin’ to kill you."
        "Luke, you’re forgettin’ the important part," Enos said.
        "What?"
        "The why.  Why’s this guy Rockford after me?  I don’t recognize the name."
        "Rockford probably isn’t his real name," Bo said.  "All we know is that you’re
stayin’ here ‘til we can get Rosco and MaryAnne to believe us and catch this guy and his
two flunkies."
        "That’s right," Luke said. "You’re safe here, and if we have to, we’ll catch them
ourselves."
        Guess Jim’s gonna have to wait ‘til then to talk to Enos, huh?
        Rosco, meanwhile, had convinced Maybelle that he had to use the switchboard
for official police business.
        "What official police business?" she asked.
        "Now, see that’s a naughty, naughty," Rosco said. "It’s confidential and top
secret."
        Maybelle looked at Rosco with a ‘yeah, right’ kind of look.
        "I’m serious.  Listen, if you don’t let me use the switchboard I’m gonna have to
arrest ya for interfering with a police investigation."
        "Rosco!"
        "I mean it. This is serious."
        Maybelle rolled her eyes. "Oh, all right," she said. "How long are you gonna be?"
        "I’ll come get ya when I’m done."
        Rosco saw Maybelle to the door and watched her go across the street to the Busy
Bee Cafe.  He then waved over to the courthouse and MaryAnne and Jim hurried across
the street.
        "Nice job, Rosco," MaryAnne said. "Okay, you remember how to run this thing?"
        "Yeah," Rosco replied taking a seat in the chair and replacing his hat for the
headset.
        Jim was chuckling. "You two are something else."
        "I told ya we did things different in Hazzard County," MaryAnne said with a
smile.  "You have that number?"
        "Yeah," Jim reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the slip of paper
he had written his father’s number, area code and all, on over at the courthouse.  He
handed it to Rosco.
        After Rosco dialed the number he handed the head set to Jim.  Jim put the headset
on and listened to the ringing on the other end.  After three rings, Rocky answered.
        "Hello?"
        "Dad? It’s Jim."
        "Jimmy! Boy am I glad you called.  I think you’re in trouble, sonny."
        "What?"
        "That freeloader friend of yours, Angel, left a message on your machine
yesterday.  He said a couple of fellas roughed him up outside of his apartment building
and wanted to know why you were interested in those rare coins.  He says he spilled
everything to them, including that you were in Georgia."
        "Oh great," Jim muttered.  "I figured he might have spooked somebody.  I
suppose he sung like a bird because they threatened to kill him or something."
        "Yeah, something like that.  I keep tellin’ ya, Jimmy, he’s never up to any good.
Don’t know why you stay friends with him."
        "Rocky, that’s a question I’ve been trying to find an answer to for years."

                *                       *                       *

        Murray and Russ had found some new wheels and a change of clothes.  The
clothes, jeans and flannel shirts, they bought.  The car they stole.  As they drove into
town they saw Jim, MaryAnne and Rosco coming out of the telephone company.  They
watched as Rosco went one way and Jim and MaryAnne went towards the courthouse.
        "Why don’t we take him now?" Murray asked.
        "No," Russ said. "Not with a cop right next to him.  To many people could be
watching.  We’ll get him when the opportunity presents itself."
        MaryAnne and Jim paused by Maverick, waiting for Rosco.
        "Well, I don’t think Bo and Luke will settle for being half right," MaryAnne said.
"Somebody was after Enos, only it wasn’t you.  Of course, now you’re a target too." She
looked at him. "Any idea who may have been spooked by your friend?"
        "My first reaction would be Gerald Coyle, the partner of the man who was
murdered.  But, then again, it could be somebody else."
        Rosco came out of the cafe followed by Maybelle. As he walked across the street
toward them, MaryAnne said to Jim, "Well, trying to talk to Enos now is probably
impossible.  The boys have probably got him hid out at their farm but you won’t be able
to get near that with a ten foot pole.  And with a couple of fellas out there followin’ ya it
wouldn’t do any good to drive out there anyway."
        "What about the CB?" Rosco asked as he came up beside MaryAnne.
        "I doubt they’ll let Enos near the CB set either.  Although I suppose it’s worth a
try."  MaryAnne turned and opened the passenger door of Maverick.  She sat in the seat
and picked up the mike.
        "This is Deputy MaryAnne Coltrane callin’ Bo and Luke Duke. You fellas out
there? Come on."
        It was a few moments before she received an answer.
        "This is Luke, MaryAnne." There was a tinge of apprehension in his voice. "What
can I do for you?"
        "Well, I thought you fellas would be interested to know that you were half right.
Somebody was after Enos only it ain’t Jim.  Now, I think this could be cleared up if
you’ll let Enos talk to Jim over the CB right now."
        "MaryAnne, haven’t you stopped to think that the two guys who ran Enos off the
road this mornin’ are workin’ with Rockford, if that’s his real name? While he’s got you
and Rosco lookin’ the other way, they were gonna try to kill Enos."
        MaryAnne rolled her eyes and looked at Jim and Rosco. "I give up," she said to
them. "I give up!" She pushed the talk button on the mike. "Alright, Luke, fine. I see your
brain is still in a gutter somewhere. When you pull it out, let me know, maybe we’ll have
something nice to say to one another then." She threw the mike on the seat beside her.
        Well, that was productive.
        At that point, Rosco told Jim and MaryAnne that we was goin’ to go check in
with Boss. MaryAnne decided to show Jim the cultural center of Hazzard: The Boar’s
Nest.
        Murray and Russ watched as Jim and MaryAnne got into the blue Firebird with
Jim in the driver’s seat.  The Sheriff went into the courthouse.
        "Alright," Russ said. "Stay close but not too close."
        Murray turned the ignition and followed Maverick out of the square.  They soon
realized that trying to follow on wide open country roads that didn’t see much traffic they
stayed so far behind so not to be seen that they ended up losing the blue car.
        "Nice one, Murray," Russ said.
        "Oh shut up. They couldn’t have gone too far," Murray retorted. "Get the map
out, will ya?"
        Jim and MaryAnne, meanwhile, were seated at a table in the Boar’s Nest, which
was pretty quiet at this hour.  Only a couple of other folks were there as well, seated in
two of the booths.  Jim had a cold beer in front of him and MaryAnne her usual root beer.
        "That won’t be the most exciting beer you’ve ever had," MaryAnne joked as Jim
was about to take a sip.  He paused and looked at her then proceeded to drink the beer.
He made a face after he swallowed it.
        "Told ya. If it was any more watered down, it would be straight water."
        "Blech." He put the mug down.
        MaryAnne smiled. "That’s why I stick with the root beer. At least Boss can’t
water that down."
        "He charges a buck for beer that’s only half beer to begin with," Jim said.
"Reminds me of somebody I know back in LA."
        MaryAnne giggled.
        Rosco, meanwhile, was sitting in front of the teletype machine in the booking
room.
        I’m only doing this for the greater good, he thought. Or something like that.
        Now ol’ Rosco trusts Jim, but he figured that in order to get Enos back from the
boys, he was gonna have to show them in black and white that Jim was legitamate. So,
he put in a few phone calls to some places in California and was waiting for a response
on the teletype machine.
        Before Rosco knew it, the machine started spitting letters on to the paper.  He
watched as the printed words came in to view.
        James Scott Rockford
        29 Cove Road, Malibu, California
        DOB: April 14, 1931
        Height: 6’1"  Weight: 172  Eyes: Brown.  Hair: Brown.
        Vehicle make: Pontiac  Year: 1978  Model: Firebird  two door coupe.  Lisence:
CA 853-OKG
        Private Investigators Lisence # 789-33-HG8-223  Issued: Sacramento,
California, 1968. Current and active.  Previous actions against: 4   Completed actions
against: 0  Current actions against: 0
        Criminal record:
        --Five years, San Quentin. Armed Robbery. Convicted: 1963.  Full Pardon given
in March of 1968.
        Military record:
        --1952-1953. Korean Conflict.

        Rosco smiled.  There it all was, in black in white.  As soon as the boys saw this
they would have to let Enos talked to Jim.
        When the teletype finished it’s job, Rosco ripped the sheet off and folded it up.
He slipped it into his pocket and went to grab his hat off the booking desk. He then left
the booking room.
        Back at the Boar’s Nest, Murray and Russ were pulling up, after spotting the blue
Firebird parked out front.
        "Remember I said the opportunity would present itself?" Russ said.
        "Yeah."
        "It just has." Russ got out of the car and Murray followed although he had no idea
what his partner was up to.
        It was several minutes later when Murray and Russ quietly came into the Boar’s
Nest.  Neither MaryAnne or Jim noticed for they were too busy talking.  Murray and Russ
stepped up to the bar and each took a seat as Daisy came over to them.
        "Howdy. Can I get you fellas something?"
        Russ smiled. "Two beers, please."
        "Okay. Comin’ right up."
        As Daisy went to the other end of the bar, Murray nonchalantly pulled a clear
glass container slightly smaller in diameter than a lipstick canister out of his shirt pocket.
The container was filled with a clear liguid and he palmed the container when Daisy
came back with the beers.
        "There ya are."
        "Thank you, Miss," Russ said.
        A few moments later, Rosco pulled up to the Boar’s Nest.  In the left pocket of
his shirt was the information sheet on Jim, which proved in black and white that Jim
Rockford was legitamate.  He pulled the piece of paper out then paused.
        She’ll think I was suspicious too, he thought.  One of the reasons he did it was
because technically he had to.  As a private investigator, Jim was supposed to ‘check in’
with the local law enforcement of whatever town he was in, which, in a sense, he had.
As Sheriff, Rosco was supposed to confirm it.  Plus, Rosco was thinking if trouble did get
any worse, and he needed to have Enos back immediately, he could show it to the Dukes.
He placed the paper back in his pocket, figuring he could wait until such a time it would
be needed.
        Russ and Murray glanced over at the door when Rosco came in.  They exchanged
furitive looks with one another and resumed drinking their beers.
        Rosco removed his hat as he sat down at the table with Jim and MaryAnne.
        "Hey," Jim greeted. "You’ve decided to join us?"
        "Only for a moment," Rosco said. "MaryAnne, you realize that with Enos in
‘protective custody’ of the Dukes, we gotta refigure the whole patrol schedule."
        "Oh shoot," MaryAnne moaned. "Can’t anybody convince Boss that we need
more deputies?"  It was a rhetorical question, and Jim caught a glimpse of Rosco shaking
his head slightly to himself.  "Well," she said, "might as well head back to town."
        "Wait, can I at least buy you a drink before you leave?" Jim asked.
        "Well, I don’t drink on duty," Rosco said.
        "Root beer then?" Jim gestured to MaryAnne’s mug. "I’ll pay for it."
        "Well," Rosco said. "Allright."
        Jim smiled.  He then looked toward Daisy behind the bar and said, "Miss? May I
have another root beer here, please?"
        "Sure thing, sugar."   As Daisy turned to get a mug, Murray lightly nudged Russ.
Russ gave a slight nod.
        Daisy filled the mug with cold, frothy root beer. She placed the glass on a tray and
then picked up the tray and came around the bar.
        Before she got to the table, Russ’s beer suddenly went crashing to the floor.
        "Oh, damn," he said.
        Daisy swung around at the spilt beer and broken glass on the floor.
        "Oh, Miss, I’m sorry," Russ said, looking at Daisy.
        "That’s okay," Daisy said.  She placed the tray on the bar near Murray.  She then
went to the end of the bar and grabbed a garbage bag and came back and bent down to
pick up the large chunks of glass.  Russ also bent down to help.
        "Here, let me help," he said. "Wouldn’t want to cut those pretty hands."
        Daisy smiled appreciatively.
        You’ll notice it has to take a lot more to get folks attention and keep it at the
Boar’s Nest.  It was fairly regularly that a glass got broken somehow.
        When Murray was sure no one was watching him, he placed his hand with the
container over the mug of root beer and dumped the clear liguid into the dark brown.  He
then tucked the empty container into his shirt pocket.
        After Daisy had placed the large pieces of glass in the bag and then toweled up
the rest, she thanked Russ for his help and finally delivered the root beer to Jim.
        "Sorry about that," she said as she placed the mug on the table.
        "That’s alright," Jim said. "Oh, this is for the Sheriff."
        "Oh!" Daisy picked up the mug and put it infront of Rosco. "There ya are,
Rosco."
        "Thanks, Daisy." Rosco gripped the handle of the mug and lifted it to take a sip.
        Friends, he’s gonna drink that!
        And he did.  Russ and Murray were figiting something fierce as they watched
Rosco take a sip of the root beer.
        "Russ..." Murray whispered.
        Russ gritted his teeth and shrugged.
        Before he left, Rosco ended up drinking nearly three quarters of the root beer
while chatting with Jim and MaryAnne.  When he finally stood to leave, MaryAnne told
him that she and Jim would be following in a few minutes.
        Outside, Rosco paused by his patrol car as he felt the beginings of a headache
comeing on.  He shrugged it off, figuring he was just tired and that as soon as he and
MaryAnne figured out the patrol schedule he could sneak a snooze then.  He got into his
patrol car and drove away from the Boar’s Nest.
        As he did, Russ and Murray came out in time to watch the patrol car disappear
down the road.
        "What do we do?" Murray asked. "We just branded the wrong steer. If he ends up
dead this place’ll be crawling with law enforcement."
        "What do you wanna do, go save him?" Russ said.
        "You gotta a better idea?"
        Russ thought. "No. Alright, come on, see if we can save him."
        They hurried to their car and drove off after Rosco.
        Rosco, meanwhile, wasn’t even two miles from the Boar’s Nest when his vision
started to blur.  He blinked his eyes and gave his head a shake.
        The drug’s velvet glove of sleep was tightening it’s grip on Rosco’s
consciousness.  Rosco fought the urge to surrender to it to place his foot on the brake to
stop his patrol car.  He pushed on it, jerking the car to a slower speed.  The sudden lunge
of the patrol car gave him one last chance to bring the car to a complete stop.  He pushed
his foot on the brake again giving it all the strength he could find.  The car stopped, but
Rosco never had the chance to shift it into park.  He lost his fight against the drug and
fell back against the seat, surrendering to the darkness.
        The patrol car remained still for a moment, it’s brake lights brilliantly lit.  Murray
and Russ came arond the corner and saw the stopped patrol car.
        "I think he stopped in time," Murray said.
        They watched as the brake lights flickered then the patrol car started to creep
forward.
        "Russ!"
        Rosco’s foot fell off the brake and the patrol car started to pick up speed as it
rolled down the slight downgrade that eventually led to a cliff over looking Stillson
Canyon.
        With nothing guiding the steering wheel, the patrol car swerved to the left, lightly
bumping the hill that ran along the road.  The car slowed, the steering shifted to the right
and the car continued it’s decent down the road.
        Murray stepped on the accelerator to try to catch up to the Plymouth.  Coming
down the road behind them were Bo and Luke in the General.  They were heading to
town to try to get Rosco or MaryAnne alone and try to get them to listen to their
suspicions.  They saw the white patrol car and the white sedan and watched the patrol car
swerve into the hill and then into the sedan.
        "Luke..."
        "I see it."
        Russ caught a glimpse of the General in the side mirror on the passenger door.
"Murray, it’s them fellas in that orange car. Get out of here."
        Murray flew past the patrol car, the back fender of the sedan clicking with the
quarter panel of the patrol car.  The patrol car continued to roll along the road.
        The boys watched the sedan disappear down the road, turning around the hill.
They then looked at the patrol car as it continued to swerve.
        "Luke, he ain’t drivin’ that car!" Bo excalimed.
        "I see him. He must be out or something.  Bring the General up as close as you
can. Let’s hope we can get to him before he goes over the cliff."
        "Yeah." Bo stepped on the accelerator and brought the General closer to the back
of the patrol car.  As Luke climbed out the window, Bo said, "Careful, cousin."
        "As always," Luke replied.  He stepped onto the scooped hood of the General
waving for Bo to bring the Dodge closer to the Plymouth.  Bo eased onto the accelerator
so as not to cause Luke to lose his balance.  Bo got the push bar on the front of the
General a few inches from the chrome bumper of the patrol car.  Luke lept on to the
trunk, grabbing onto the roof of the car.
        "C’mon Luke," Bo said, seeing they were coming closer to the turn in the road,
which if the patrol car didn’t make it, would send Rosco and Luke flying off the road and
off the cliff into Stillson Canyon.
        Luke climbed up on to the roof , over the gumballs and slid into the passenger
window.  He looked at Rosco, who was leaning against the corner of the seat and the
driver door.  He then looked up the road and saw the turn was getting closer. Moving
across the seat as far as he could he reached with his foot to the brake pedal.  He grabbed
the steering wheel and turned the car, bringing it to a skidding stop just a few feet from
the edge of the road and the mere five foot extention of the cliff.
        Bo brought the General to a sliding stop and scrambled out of the window of the
car. He ran to the driver door of the patrol car.
        "You allright, Luke?"
        "Yeah, I’m fine."
        Bo looked at Rosco. "What’s wrong with him?"
        "I don’t know.  Rosco?" Luke lightly slapped Rosco on the side of the face.
When Rosco didn’t stir, Luke touched his fingers to Rosco’s neck to feel for a pulse.  He
suddenly looked at Bo in concern.  "His pulse is really weak.  I think we better get him to
the hospital.  Help me move him over here to the passenger seat.  We’ll never get him in
and out of the General."
        Bo pulled open the driver door and Luke opened the passenger door to let himself
out as he and Bo moved Rosco’s uncouncious form over to the passenger seat.
        "Why don’t you drive?" Luke said. "I’ll follow in the General and call Uncle
Jesse on the CB, see if he can find MaryAnne."
        "Alright."
        Don’t go catchin’ your breath yet, folks.
        MaryAnne and Jim were heading back to town on Highway 30, the other road that
led from the Boar’s Nest to town.  MaryAnne had no idea anything was amiss, with
Rosco or her own situation for that matter, until Maverick started to cruise down the hill
and she went to step on the brake.
        When she didn’t feel any resistence, she looked down at the pedal and pressed it
again.  Panic started to set in when she pushed it all the way to the floor and the car only
continued to pick up speed.
        Jim could already tell something was wrong before MaryAnne even spoke.
        "Uh, MaryAnne..."
        "Jim, I ain’t got no brakes!"  MaryAnne gripped the steering wheel, trying to keep
the Firebird on the road.
        "Hang on," she said as Maverick came to the bottom of the hill and on to flat
roadway at more than 60 miles an hour.
        Coming in the other direction was a truck carrying a load of fresh eggs.  The
driver was bug eyed at the Firebird swerving towards him.  He panicked and slammed the
brakes as he turned the truck to the right, trying to get it out of the road.  The crates went
flying off the back of the truck and crashed onto the hood and windshield of Maverick as
the car went zooming by.  MaryAnne slammed one foot on the clutch, the other on the
emergency brake and attempted to put Maverick in neutral.  The wheels squealed at the
sudden resistence and MaryAnne turned the car off the road, through a couple of bushes
and finally it came to a stop in the grass in a field.
        Her hands were still superglued to the steering wheel when Jim spoke.
        "You okay?"
        "I think so. You?"
        "Yeah." He paused catching his breath. "Nice driving," he congratualted.
        MaryAnne heaved a sigh. "Thank you. I think."  She finally peeled her fingers off
the steering wheel and got out of the car.  She looked at the yellow mess and broken egg
shells that were streaked across the hood and windshield.  She then kneeled down and
reached behind the wheel.  She touched her hand on the brake line and could feel it was
slimed with fluid and there was fine slit on the hose.  When she brought her hand out, her
fingers were covered with the dark fluid.  She wiped it on her black uniform pants and
stood to go check the other side where Jim was already standing with the same dark fluid
on his fingers.
        "I don’t believe this," MaryAnne said.
        Jim pulled a handkercheif from his pocket and started to wipe the fluid off of his
fingers. "All that egg isn’t going to help the paint any."
        "I ain’t worried about the paint! I’m worried about you. Jim, somebody’s trying to
kill you! For a case you’ve only been working on for two days, you’ve sure made
somebody mad."
        "Wouldn’t be the first time."
        "Yeah. We almost added another Firebird to your list of vehicular KIA’s.  Not to
mention me and yourself."
        "MaryAnne, I’m sorry--"
        "Oh, Jim I ain’t mad at you, it’s other things." She paused to collect herself
together. "Okay. I’m gonna call Cooter and hope to heck he’ll tow us in.  Maybe we can
convince him to try to convince the boys about you so we can get to the bottom of all
this."  She leaned in Maverick and changed the channel on the CB. When she stopped on
the channel to call Cooter, she heard Uncle Jesse.
        "...callin’ MaryAnne Coltrane, you got yer ears on?"
        MaryAnne picked up the mike.
        "This is MaryAnne. What’s up, Jesse?"
        "It’s Rosco.  The boys found him unconcious in his patrol car.  They couldn’t
wake him up so they’re takin him to the hospital."
        MaryAnne reeled a little and gripped the edge of the door to steady herself.  She
was briefly hit with a spell of dizzyness and suddenly felt Jim’s hand on her shoulder.
"Oh no..." she whispered.  She then lifted the mike and pushed the talk button. "Jesse.
Jesse, I ain’t got no way to get to the hospital.  Somebody tampered with the brakes on
Maverick and Jim and I are stuck out here in a field off Highway 30."
        "Are you allright?"
        "We’re fine, except Rosco’s on his way to the hospital I can’t get to him!"
        "You will, ‘cuz I’m on my way to get ya. You just sit tight."
        "Thank you, Jesse. I’m gone."
        "Ten-four."
        MaryAnne dropped the mike into the car and then slammed her hand in anger
against the column of the windshield. "Damn!" she yelled and then clenched her fists.
        "Easy, easy now," Jim said soothingly, placing both hands on her shoulders to
stop her from shaking.
        "I’m sorry," she sniffled. She wiped her eyes with the edge of her shirt sleeve and
took a deep breath. "It’s just when something happens to Rosco and I can’t get to him it
sends me right up the wall."  She turned and looked up to Jim’s face.  His brown eyes
were sympathetic and he nodded.
        "I’m sure he’s going to be okay," he said trying to offer some kind of
encouragement.  Remembering what he had said to Rosco the night before, how he
wouldn’t be causing any trouble, Jim wondered though if he was supposed to be where
Rosco was now.

Chapter 4
        Despite having been introduced to the fairly neutral Jesse Duke, Jim waited
outside of the hospital while MaryAnne went into the emergency area.  After what he had
heard one of the Duke boys say over the CB earlier, he didn’t want to get into a
confrontation in the middle of the waiting room.  So he sat on a bench, smoking a
cigarette, occasionally looking towards the doors when they would open.
        Inside, the boys explained to MaryAnne how they found Rosco.
        "I don’t understand it," she said as she took a seat in one of the chairs in the
waiting room.  "He was fine when he left the Boar’s Nest. You’re tellin’ me he wasn’t
even two miles away and he suddenly blacked out?"
        "That’s about all we can make of it," Luke said. "If Bo and I hadn’t happened
along he might have rolled into Stillson Canyon."
        MaryAnne closed her eyes and cringed at the thought.
        "We saw a white sedan near him too," Bo said.  "We’re not sure, but it might be
the same two who tried to get Enos."
        MaryAnne looked at the boys. Before she could ask more about it, the ER doctor
came out from the ER.