Title: Fast Cars and Freedom

Author: Black_Wingedbird

Rating: PG

Author’s Notes- I was watching the Dukes of Hazzard late one night and thought, 'Self, wouldn't it be great to have a little story about the General Lee racing Starsky's Torino?' Well, 75 pages and two months later, I had that story. Thanks to Rebelcat and Jenben for the wonderful beta/mentor job, and thanks to Starsky's Strut for the 'Milking the Bull' scene. This story wouldn't have been possible without you. Winner 2005 Torino Awards for Best Crossover category.

'When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.'
-Henri Nouwen

"Oh no…"

"Now Starsky, don't get all wound up. It's just a car-"

Starsky took another step towards the twisted, crumpled remains of the Torino. "It was more than a car, Hutch, it was… it was…"

Hutch rolled his eyes behind his partner's back. "It was a Ford. It was a hunk of metal on wheels. Now, it's-" Hutch caught himself.

They could both see what it was *now*.

They had gotten a call about a robbery in progress not ten blocks from where he and Starsky were eating lunch. Loyally, the two responded and arrived at the scene in a little over one minute. Just as Starsky slid the Torino to a halt in front of Jim's Mini Mart, a masked crook darted out the front doors and across the street before the Torino. Hutch was the first one out of the car and easily caught up with the inexperienced robber. The apprehension was as by-the-book as any arrest the team had ever done.

It was *too* easy, *too* uneventful.

Starsky and Hutch were walking the criminal down the sidewalk, back towards the Torino where it was waiting at the end of the block. Hutch had broken a sweat and the criminal was cursing his own dumb luck, but Hutch otherwise had no complaints.

Then there was the dog.

A scrawny brown mutt appeared on the other side of the street, sniffing intently at a collection of over-filled, rusted garbage cans. Hutch took note the animal and dismissed it. There were lots of stray mutts in the city.

Then came the rat.

For all the dog's sniffing, he must have spooked the rat from it's hiding place amongst the trash. It darted away from the building and into the street, it's little brown body bobbing as it ran.

The dog took chase.

The two animals still would not have been anything worth a second glance, but when an oncoming garbage truck slammed on it's brakes, all hell broke lose.

The big, heavy wheels of the garbage truck skidded along the pavement, creating a billowing cloud of gray smoke and an awful screeching sound. Hutch winced, unable to cover his ears for the suspect in his grasp, and watched what happened next in numb shock.

In an effort to avoid the dog, the garbage truck took a sharp turn to the right, it's rear end swinging out to cross the center line, and slammed head-first into the side of the open-doored Torino.

It was the crash heard 'round the world.

The garbage truck, with all it's weight and momentum, pushed the Torino sideways over the sidewalk and straight through the large glass window spanning the front of Jim's Mini Mart.

The sound of bending metal and burning rubber and squealing brakes ended with a loud *crack* and the soft, musical tinkling of glass raining upon metal and concrete.

Nobody moved.

Slowly, almost guiltily, the rat and the dog turned tail and darted away.

A chunk of plaster dripped from the store ceiling and landed on the crumpled roof of the Torino.

The suspect, long since having been dropped from Hutch's nerveless grip, remained planted to the sidewalk in awe.

Hutch blinked.

Steam was billowing from the wreckage. There was no way to tell which vehicle it was coming from.

"S-St…"

Hutch knew he should say something, but when you can't feel your tongue, speaking becomes quite a feat. Starsky couldn't hear him anyway. The brunet's slack-jawed face held an expression of total devastation.

The door of the garbage truck swung open with a creak and more glass rained onto the vehicles. The driver dropped to the ground, stood up, turned to look at the wreckage then slowly shook his head.

"Man," he said slowly, "would you look at that."

Starsky whimpered and began moving forward. "Oh no…"

Hutch swallowed, shaking off his paralysis, and grabbed the non-resistant suspect before pulling him along. "Now Starsky, don't get all wound up. It's just a car-"

"It was more than a car, Hutch, it was… it was…"

The garbage tuck driver appeared unharmed, so Hutch dismissed him for the moment. "It was a Ford. It was a hunk of metal on wheels. Now, it's-" Hutch caught himself.

Now, it was worthless. Unrecognizable.

Destroyed.

"I'm sure Merle can fix it," Hutch offered.

Starsky reached out and laid a finger upon the Torino's side mirror.

It clattered to the ground.

"Okay," Hutch continued as Starsky's hand fell to his side. "So maybe this was meant to happen, you know-"

A man, apparently Jim, appeared inside the store, looking from Starsky and Hutch to the destruction between them. "Who's gonna be paying for this mess?"

Sirens could be heard in the distance. Hutch shoved the handcuffed suspect against the building and growled, "Stay!" before moving next to Starsky. He pulled out his badge and flashed it to the store owner and the garbage truck driver. "Everything's under control, just stay calm. I'm Detective Hutchinson, this is Detective Starsky. You guys okay?"

They were slow in the coming, but both men answered in the affirmative.

"Okay, just stay put. We'll get everything sorted out. Starsky? You alright?"

The brunet remained frozen. "My car…"

Hutch laid a hand on Starsky's shoulder. "Hey, at least we weren't in it."

Backup had arrived now, screeching to a halt behind them on the street. A flurry of activity took place around them as the suspect was loaded up and the scene made secure.

It was a long time before Starsky finally blinked and took a deep breath.

"You're right, we're safe. That's all that matters."

~o0O0o~

'The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.'
-M. Scott Peck

Hutch closed the chain link gate behind them. "Come on Starsky, I hear there are lots of good cars here."

Starsky shuffled his feet in the red dirt. "At an impound lot?" he asked skeptically. "How can there be any *good* cars in an impound lot?"

Hutch began walking, slowly so that Starsky could trail behind. "They get auctioned off, don't they? You're lucky we even get this privilege. Not many people get first choice at these cars."

Starsky ran his hand down the body of a silver Pontiac, streaking the coat of dust that had settled on the car.

"Lucky me."

"You're being pessimistic again," Hutch chided. "I'm sorry the Torino bit the-"

Starsky turned pained eyes towards him.

"I'm sorry you *lost* the Torino, but maybe this is your chance to get a more practical car. Something that blends in, maybe?"

Starsky sighed as they continued to move down the rows of confiscated cars. They passed Datsuns and Dodges and Toyotas, even a few Fords, but these cars were all so *plain* and *boring*. It was almost depressing. This had been Hutch's idea- one of his female acquaintances mentioned that she could get them in to see the cars before they went up for auction and Hutch took her up on it. Proudly, he had pulled Starsky along to 'find the perfect one', but all this was doing was making Starsky miss his Torino even more.

"You see one yet?" Hutch asked as he stopped next to an ugly green Chevrolet.

"No."

"Well I don't think we'll both fit on a bicycle, so you better keep looking."

Starsky rolled his eyes. The sun was bright and it was getting hot in this car wasteland. He was getting cranky.

"I'm gonna go look over here," he said, turning and starting down the next row. Behind him, he heard Hutch rattling off the green Chevy's specs.

This was pointless. Starsky would never find a car to replace the Torino. Maybe it was a 'Striped Tomato', but he was so proud of that car that none of Hutch's comments could ever make a dent in his love for it. It was unexplainable, perhaps even a quirk, but somehow Starsky had always imagined himself growing old with a pretty woman, some ankle-biters, and that car.

His dream was falling apart.

Starsky shook his head. Perhaps he was just a *little* too attached.

Starsky kicked a stone and watched with satisfaction as it bounced off a dusty hubcap with a clang. He was only here to humor Hutch. The blond was trying so hard to cheer him up, it was the least Starsky could do. Where ever his next car was, it wasn't at the precinct impound lot.

"Hutch!" Starsky called, stopping and turning to shout at his partner who was several rows down. "Come on, I don't see anything. Let's go get lun-"

And then he saw it.

Perhaps it stood out because it was at the end of the row, or perhaps it stood out because it was lacking the coat of red dust that all the other cars had accumulated.

Perhaps it stood out because it was Hemi Orange.

Starsky found himself moving towards the car like opposite magnets pulling for each other. It was a 1969 Dodge Charger- a sporty enough car to begin with, but this one was special. Its body was bright orange. On the side, the numbers '01' were painted, outlined in white. A confederate flag stretched over the roof of the car, and on either side, the words 'General Lee' were tattooed down the length of the roof. A tall, trunk mount CB antenna sat upon a teardrop base on the car's rear, topping it all off.

This was the car.

Starsky's fingers touched the sun-warmed paint and a volt *something* cursed through him. It was love at first sight.

"Hey, you okay…" The dirt crunched under Hutch's feet as the blond jogged towards Starsky. Upon seeing the car, Hutch stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh no. No way."

Starsky grinned as he ran his fingers down the nose of the Charger. "I love it."

Later, Starsky would swear that Hutch grumbled, 'You would.'

"I have to have this car," Starsky said, circling the Charger's front end. "Look, its even got a push bar! Hutch, this car was made for the streets."

"It was made for the junk yard," Hutch grumbled and Starsky definitely heard him.

Starsky's jaw dropped. "How can you say that? Look at this fine piece of machinery! This car was made for me."

Hutch looked at Starsky over the Charger's roof before his gaze dropped. "What is that?" he asked, taking a step forward. "Why is there a Confederate flag on the roof? Oh, and don't tell me the car is named the 'General Lee'. Look, the hood is even scuffed up. Starsky, you'll look like a hillbilly in this thing."

"Hutch, you brought me here to find a car and I did."

"Do you even know who General Lee was?"

"Come on, let's sit in it."

Starsky reached for the door handle and pulled, but the car didn't budge.

"There, you see, it's defective," quipped Hutch and he started to leave. "Now I found a nice, reliable-"

Starsky frowned for a moment, then lit up. "No, it's suppose to be like this," he said, feeling the edge of the door. "They're welded shut. See the roll bar behind the front seats? This car was made for racing."

"Welded shut… great, just what I need."

Starsky swung a leg up over the door, dropping a foot onto the tan seat. "Come on Hutch. Just sit in it. That's all. Look," he started, swinging the other foot inside so that he was sitting on the door. "It's not that hard to get in and out."

Hutch rolled his eyes. "Fine," he murmured, awkwardly copying Starsky's movements.

They slid inside together and landed on the tan leather simultaneously. "Wasn't that hard, was it?" Starsky teased, taking a deep breath. The car smelled of leather and polish and… honeysuckle? He may not be the plant expert, but even Starsky knew that was unusual. He shrugged it off for now and eyed the Cobra 78x CB radio. "Look, its even already got a radio! This car really was meant for me."

Hutch rubbed his eyes. "I bet it eats gas," he said quietly, as if he were running out of arguments.

"The Torino ate gas," Starsky replied. He ran his hand over the dashboard, almost caressing the car. It felt good. "I think I'm in love. I have to have this car."

"You fall in love twice a day, most of the time with inanimate objects."

"But this is different, this is a car!" Starsky grasped the steering wheel as is he were driving. "Listen Hutch, it's talking to you…" Starsky pushed the horn.

The first 12 notes of 'Dixie' rang out in beautiful 5-trumpet harmony.

Starsky lit up in a face-splitting grin.

Hutch closed his eyes in defeat.

~o0O0o~

'To cement a new friendship, especially between foreigners or persons of a different social world, a spark with which both were secretly charged must fly from person to person, and cut across the accidents of place and time.'
-Cornelia Otis Skinner

"Come on Hutch, quit sulking."

Starsky led the way back to the small, dusty little impound office. His mind was made up and his heart was set. The Charger would never replace the Torino, but Starsky loved his new car in its own, special way. Sure it would take some getting used to- learning to climb in and out of the windows for instance, but the car had heart.

And flair.

"I'm not sulking," Hutch argued feebly as he trudged through the red dirt. "I just think you're making a big mistake."

"A mistake would be letting that car sit in this junkyard and rot," Starsky replied, stopping to walk side by side with his partner. The office was just a short distance ahead. "Come on, you gotta admit, it is a special car."

Almost against his will, Hutch smiled. "I'll give you that one."

"There, see, I knew you'd warm up to it."

Starsky grabbed the door handle to the impound office and yanked it open. The two-room building was small to begin with, but with the amount of paperwork and furniture that littered the place, it had shrunk to downright *tiny*. Lou, the overseer of the lot, was currently behind his paper-covered desk and in the middle of an argument with two men.

Starsky moved aside to make room for his partner and studied the scene before him. The men were both young, probably in their mid twenties, and both were obviously from out of town. They were both dressed in jeans and cowboy boots; the taller man was blond and wearing a yellow button down shirt, the brunet in a blue checkered shirt. Their hair cuts resembled a messier style of Starsky's and Hutch's own; the brunet had shaggy, curly hair and the blond had an unruly bowl cut. Both had blue eyes to rival Starsky and Hutch. To complete the Southern look, each man had a rather large belt buckle.

Silence fell over the office as the two pair of men regarded each other.

"These guys causing you trouble?" Starsky asked stiffly, glancing at Lou.

"No we ain't causin' him trouble, we just want our dang car back!" The blond stepped forward but was grabbed by the brunet.

"Bo, calm down."

Starsky stiffened. "I suggest you listen to your friend," he said, looking between the strangers and Lou.

The blond ducked his head and glared, but kept quiet as Lou spoke up. "I was just trying to explain to these boys about release procedures." He sounded exasperated, but not upset. "There's no problem Starsky."

The brunet shoved his friend aside and moved closer to Lou's desk. "Look, isn't there anyway we can just pay a fine and forget about all this?"

"Look, I'm sorry, but if you can't provide proof of insurance-"

"Now look Mister," the blond began again, "it's like I told you before. We don't need insurance in Hazzard County. Everybody knows everybody, and we sort things out ourselves. We just want our car back."

"Hazzard County?" Hutch asked, moving next to Lou's desk. "Where's that?"

"Georgia," the blond and Lou replied together.

Starsky huffed. "You're quite a ways from home, aren't you? What brought you guys all the way to Bay City?"

Lou leaned backwards in his chair and crossed his arms, apparently giving up on the conversation. Hutch picked up the papers and began scanning them.

"Sick relative," the blond replied curtly.

The brunet laughed thinly and stepped in front of the blond. "Let me introduce us. I'm Luke Duke and this is my cousin Bo." He paused with his hand held out.

Starsky eyed the proffered hand before returning the handshake. "I'm Starsky, he's Hutch. We're detectives with the Bay City PD."

"My pleasure," Luke replied politely.

Starsky eyed Bo, who was hovering uncomfortably behind his cousin. "What's your hurry to get out of town?" he asked as Luke took a step back.

"Says here they're in violation of parole," Hutch spoke up from reading Lou's paperwork.

"Now what could two country boys do to earn parole?" Starsky questioned, and he thought he heard Hutch snort.

"They were caught running moonshine."

Starsky blinked. He hadn't been expecting *that* one.

"Oh come on, that was years ago!" Bo argued.

"Try one and a half years ago," Hutch said.

"I don't care how long ago it was, you're still under probation and you violated it," Starsky shot back. Boy, this blond kid had a big mouth. He turned to Hutch. "Is the car cleared by booking?"

Hutch flipped through some pages. "Not yet."

"Well, it looks like you two aren't going anywhere."

Bo shifted his weight impatiently behind his shorter cousin. "Well this is a fine mess you got us into, cousin."

"Me?" Luke replied indignantly as he turned to face Bo. "It was you who got us into this."

Starsky rolled his eyes as the two bickered. They were family alright.

"Hey, Starsk, look at this."

Starsky shook his head at the cousins and joined Hutch. Lou had long since broken out his sack lunch and had its contents spread out before him.

"Look at what kind of car these guys own."

Starsky stood shoulder to shoulder with Hutch and looked down at the typed papers in his partner's hands. 'Luke Duke… date of birth: September 9th, 1951... six foot one… yadda yadda… Vehicle-'

"1969 Dodge Charger?" Starsky questioned out loud. He looked up when silence reigned over the room. "Oh no."

Starsky looked straight into eyes as blue as his own and swallowed. "You guys own that orange car out there?"

"Yes sir," Luke nodded.

Starsky refused to believe it. "The one with the confederate flag on the top?"

Hutch snorted, and then shuffled a bit as if feigning compassion.

"That's the General, its been ours since we found him in a junkyard and fixed him up."

*Him.* Starsky felt something pull in his chest. The car was a *him*.

He'd always thought of the Torino as a *her*.

"Well, it's too bad you're missing a proof of insurance and in violation of your parole," Hutch said, tossing the papers onto Lou's desk. "Looks like you boys never should have left Georgia."

Starsky saw something fearful flicker in the cousins' eyes. He wanted the Charger more than anything, but it felt wrong swiping such an obviously precious possession from these slow country hicks. Bo was wearing that same expression of hurt that Starsky had felt on his face when the Torino died. Starsky knew what would happen; the cousins would probably spend the night in jail before being shipped back to whatever county they came from. But eventually they *would* get out, and taking the Charger like this felt as cold-hearted as taking candy from a baby.

Not that Starsky knew what that felt like.

He sighed. "It's alright Hutch. That car could never replace the Torino anyways." He sniffed. "It's too… orange."

Hutch looked surprised, but quickly went with it. "Good thinking, Starsk. You don't want that old clunker car anyway."

"Hey now, the General is not a clunker-" Bo started forward but was grabbed again by Luke.

"Did you say Torino?" Luke asked, pushing his cousin behind him. "What year?"

"75."

"Well how 'bout that," Luke smiled. "Hey Bo," he began, tuning his head slightly, "Isn't Cooter looking to sell that Torino he fixed up?"

"What's a 'Cooter'?" Hutch asked.

"He's just the best mechanic in all of Hazzard," Bo bragged.

Starsky looked hard at Luke. He didn't want just *any* 1975 Torino, it had to be *his* Torino. But these boys obviously knew their cars, and aside from being obnoxiously southern, they hadn't done anything to make Starsky doubt their sincerity. What if they really had a replica of the Torino?

Starsky's heart beat a little faster. "Have you seen the car? You know what kind of engine it has?"

Luke looked Starsky in the eye and said, "460 CID Engine with 4-barrel carburetor."

Starsky looked to Hutch, who looked both lost and skeptical at the same time.

"I think we need to take a little walk," Starsky said.

Hutch did that thing where his eyes got wide and he kinda rolled his head, like when he knew exactly what Starsky was thinking.

Starsky hated that.

He turned and held the door open for the reluctant cousins. They eye-balled him cautiously as they exited the building, then stopped to wait just outside the door. Hutch patted Lou's shoulder before he followed Bo and Luke.

"Don't worry," Starsky said to the open-mouthed Lou before he followed his partner, "I'll bring them back in one piece."

Starsky hopped off the step and landed in the soft red dirt. As they started walking towards the Charger, Hutch caught up to him.

"I hope you're thinking things through," he murmured in Starsky's ear. The cousins were walking behind them, having a quiet conversation between the two of them.

Starsky gave Hutch his best 'Who, me?' look. "Hutch, just look at them. They're unlucky, lost hillbillies."

Hutch risked a look behind him. Bo had his face to the sky, watching a plane fly overhead, and Luke was running his hand over the hood of a souped-up Pontiac.

"Point taken."

"So," Starsky continued, "It'll be fairly easy to sweep this little parole problem under the rug, especially with our 'connections'."

Hutch faltered. "You're willing to put your job on the line for these two? You just met them five minutes ago!"

Starsky looked at Hutch. "I'm willing to do that for my car."

For love.

"Starsky, that's… not right. That car does not mean more to you than your job."

"You're right," Starsky admitted calmly, trying to counterbalance Hutch's emotions. "But I also believe these guys are good. They just want to get home. They're not used to how we run things out here."

"Maybe it's time they actually took responsibility for their actions."

Bo and Luke watched the detectives wearily, unnoticed.

"Okay, think of it like this. If we follow these guys home, we'll get to meet the local law enforcement, maybe give them a few pointers. We'll be helping out. I know you like doing that sort of thing."

"You sound like you know these guys, Starsky."

"You're right, I don't know them. But I doubt they're going to pull out a gun and shoot us in the back."

Hutch fought back a smile. "And what if they're lying?"

"Then we haul them right back here and throw their tails in lockup." He paused and looked Hutch in the eyes. "I just got this gut feeling, like this was meant to happen."

"No, that's the burritos you had for lunch."

He was winning Hutch over, he could tell. "I wouldn't ask you if it didn't mean something to me."

Hutch sighed. "You're going out on a limb here partner."

"So that's a yes then?" When Hutch didn't smile, Starsky bounced a little. "Come on Hutch, it'll be fun. We'll take a few days of vacation, enjoy a day in some one-horse hick town, and get my new car. Don't worry, the bad guys will be waiting for us when we come back. And hey, I bet Huggy will even water your plants while we're gone. Come on, whaddya say?"

"Fine," Hutch relented, then added quickly, "But you owe me, got it?"

"Cheer up, maybe you'll find some of your relatives."

"Minnesota, Starsky, not Georgia."

"Hey, close enough."

"No, not close. They're almost-"

"Hey, look Luke, it's the General!"

Starsky watched Bo jog past them and go to the Charger.

"Sure enough," Luke replied as he joined his cousin.

Starsky felt his heart drop. That was their car alright. You'd have to be blind to miss the affection the men showed as they circled the car, checking for dents and scratches. Luke popped the trunk and reach in, pulling out a fairly small pig-shaped cookie jar. He held it up to show Bo.

"It's still here!" he exclaimed with relief as Starsky and Hutch came to a stop a few feet away.

Bo looked relieved as well as he took the cookie jar from his cousin, inspecting it carefully. "Thank goodness," he said with a twang. "Boss'd have our hides if anything happened to Lulu's antique cookie jar."

Starsky moved forward, getting a closer look at the ceramic pig. The animal was sitting on its rear with all four legs folded against itself, like the way small dogs beg for food at the dinner table. The pig's head was removable, allowing access for storing cookies in the animal's hollow body. "What's this for?" Starsky asked, sensing that there was more to this childish cookie jar than meets the eyes.

"Uh, well, it's sorta a long story," Luke started. "We owed somebody a favor."

"Some favor," Hutch commented dryly, eyeing the cookie jar skeptically.

As the cookie jar was placed back in the trunk, Starsky asked, "So you found this car in a junk yard?"

Bo crossed his arms and leaned on the roof as Luke shut the trunk and leaned back against the car. "That's right. Me and Luke built the engine but didn't have anything to put it in. When we found The General in Boss's used car lot, it was painted black and used to be the get-away car for gold dust thieves. So we bought it and took it to Cooters'. The only color paint old Cooter had was orange, so that's what we used! The General's been ours ever since."

"Isn't that touching," Hutch muttered, low enough as not to be rude.

"Hey, tell us about your car," Bo spoke up, looking eagerly at Starsky.

"Starsky here drove a striped tomato," Hutch replied, laying a hand on Starsky's shoulder. "It was the most obnoxious car to ever hit the streets. Made it impossible to be inconspicuous." He finished with a grin to his partner.

"This coming from the guy who drives a junk heap." He looked to the cousins. "My car was specially painted red with a white stripe. All chrome, 460-V8 engine with FMX transmission, California emissions and dual exhaust. The front end was lowered just a little…"

"Well shoot, that's mostly stock," Bo announced. "All Cooter'd have to do is paint the dang thing."

"You guys know an awful lot about cars," Hutch said skeptically.

"This car's saved our tails more times than I can count. We make sure he's always at his best."

Luke took on a more thoughtful look, as if he were just now coming up with the idea Starsky had. "Are we gonna get the General back?"

Starsky shifted his weight. "Here's the deal. You guys have something I want, and I can get rid of something you don't want." He moved closer, as if Lou would hear from the confines of his office. "You get me that Torino, and I'll make sure this whole little mishap of yours is overlooked. If I find out you were just fast talking, I'll haul you back here personally and you can find out how we do justice in the big city, complete with handcuffs and bars and the works." He paused to let the terms sink in. "Deal?"

Bo hit the roof of the Charger with a smile. "Well what are we sittin' around here for? Let's go!"

Luke nodded in agreement and held out a hand. "You got yourself a deal."

~o0O0o~

'We are all travelers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend.'
-Robert Louis Stevenson

11:13pm
Day 1
Grants, New Mexico

"…So when we found out what Boss Hogg and Sheriff Rosco were up to, me and Luke stole the slot machines and took 'em to the orphanage. We made it seem like Boss Hogg had donated the money, and he had to go along with it!"

Hutch scrubbed one hand over his face then thumped it against the steering wheel of his LTD, next to his other hand. The 'General Lee', as he had come to know the orange car, was in front of him as they drove down the highway. A car passed them going the opposite direction and in the flash of headlights, Hutch could see two heads of curly hair sitting side by side in the Charger. One head belonged to his partner, and the other belonged to Luke Duke, the obviously more sensible, and quieter, relative of the blond sitting next to him.

'I think we should split them up,' Starsky had said before the headed out that morning. 'They're gonna be our responsibility, and there's less of a chance that they'll make a run for it if they're not together. You take Bo, and I'll ride with Luke, okay?'

Hutch grated his jaw as he fumed. 'Sure, stick your partner with the talkative one!' he projected the angry thought, and several curses for good measure, at the car in front of him.

The kid had not shut up once during the whole- how many hours? 13?!- worth of road time. Hutch not only got a free, 5-hour lesson in car mechanics, but he was also an expert on the Duke family lineage.

His eyes hurt, his brain hurt, even his ears hurt.

"This is lost sheep 1, come in lost sheep 2, you got your ears on?"

Hutch stared at the CB. What the heck kind of a call was that?

Bo picked up the mike and replied, "Right here, cousin, go ahead."

Hutch rolled his eyes. Of course.

"There's a motel a couple miles up ahead. We're gonna stop there and find us a place to eat. Just follow us."

"Roger that, Luke."

Roger? Who said 'Roger' any more?

Bo replaced the mike and launched himself into another exaggerated tale about greedy county commissioners and feeble-minded sheriffs. There was some sort of explanation regarding that stupid little cookie jar in the General's trunk, something about it being a family heirloom of someone named 'Lulu'. Hutch hadn't really been listening. Bo voice was droning on in the background, as it had been for the past 300 miles, and Hutch fought down the hot, itching ball that was swelling inside him. He knew the feeling well- it was irritation.

The sooner he got away from the blond, the better. Bo had spent the better part of the afternoon drive cat-calling every female driver that passed them on the highway. Hutch was really starting to miss his partner and their pointless conversations about what makes the world go 'round.

The inky blackness of night enveloped the car and the highway, pierced only by the LTD's headlights as they lay upon the highway before him, like the walking stick held out by the blind man. They were cruising along at 70 miles per hour, speeding a little on the deserted New Mexico highway. The steady hum of tires against asphalt was a steady background noise on the rare occasion that Bo wasn't talking.

They had departed from Hutch's apartment at a little after eight this morning. Funding was minimal and each man had only taken the necessary provisions. This trip was meant to be mostly business, and mostly driving. Anything other than a few changes of clothes and a toothbrush wouldn't be needed.

So Luke led the way in the General Lee, with Starsky as his co-pilot. Hutch and Bo followed in the battered but loyal LTD, and they kept in contact via CB in between refueling stops. Arizona was a blur of endless highway and tumbleweed, except for the hour-long break the four took to eat lunch at some small roadside diner. After a meal of greasy hamburgers and fries and cola, it was back to the highway.

13 hours and 750 miles since Hutch first started his car this morning, they were pulling off the highway and heading towards a run-down but lit-up motel. Hutch eyed the place wearily as the car rolled over crunchy gravel. The 'Good Nite' motel was advertising vacancies, and it wasn't too difficult to see why. Three long buildings stretched out over the sand, accompanying a small check-in office. There were five cars already parked outside. The motel looked big enough for fifty.

In fact, there were more cars parked next door, at 'Sally's Family Restaurant', than there were at the motel. Several eighteen wheelers were occupying the far corner of the lot, looking somewhat ominous in the night. Hutch took a deep breath. He was road-worn and exhausted, more than ready to call it a night. But lunch had long since been digested and the burn in his gut would not relent until it was fed.

Looks like they were going to mingle with the locals of Grants.

This should be interesting.

Hutch pulled into the parking space beside the General Lee and turned the engine off. Eerie, unnatural silence filled the air. He stared at the brick wall before him, existing where only the taillights of the Charger had for the past 13 hours. Was the ground still moving underneath him? Why could he still feel the vibrations from the steering wheel in his hands? Footsteps could be heard around him, but that was impossible. The car was still moving.

"Hutch? You okay?"

Starsky's voice echoed in his head, and he smiled. He felt like when you were bored at work and began spinning in circles on your swivel chair, around and around and around, then the captain walks in so you stop spinning, only your body pulls to the side and your eyes feel like they're going to fly out of your head.

That sense of vertigo is what Hutch was feeling now, as he sat with his hands on the steering wheel of the parked car, staring at the wavering brick wall of the Good Nite motel.

"I think he's sleepin'."

"Bo, lookit. His eyes are open."

"He's been awful quiet since we got into Arizona."

"Why didn't you say something over the radio?" Starsky asked.

A hand waved in front of Hutch's face and he wanted to bat it away. He was trying to drive here!

Bo shrugged. "I thought he just ran out of things to say."

"Come on partner, let's get you out of there."

Hutch felt Starsky's hands on him, then the car door swung open. He felt himself being dragged to the side, towards the ground next the car. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. He was getting sucked out of the car!

"Hutch, you gotta let go. I know it's been a long drive, but we're done for today. Come on Blintz, snap out of it!"

Hutch blinked and the world snapped back into focus. What happened? Somewhere in the distance, the crickets were chirping continuously in the darkness, unseen by the four weary travelers. The car's engine was off, in 'park', and facing the wall of the motel they would be sleeping in. The ground was not moving, and Starsky was standing outside, tugging at him.

"I'm okay," he said at last, releasing the steering wheel and brushing his partner's hand way. "I'm coming, I'm okay." He double checked to make sure the car was in 'park', then turned his eyes to the gravel in front of the car and ordered it to stop moving.

"Uh, why don't you guys go on in and get us some rooms," Starsky said, seeing his partner's struggles to clear his vision. "We'll be right there."

After the Dukes went inside, Starsky knelt inside the open driver-side door. "Hey Hutch? You in there?"

Hutch scrubbed a hand over his face and turned to look at his partner. "Are we there?"

Starsky smiled. "Yeah Blintz, we are." He stood and offered a hand. "You coming inside now? How 'bout some food? You look ready to crash."

"I think I've developed Carpal Tunnel Syndrome in my entire body."

"Aw Hutch, don't go talking about brain tumors. It wasn't that bad of a drive, was it? Didn't you think Arizona was nice?"

Hutch latched on to Starsky's hand and allowed himself to be pulled from the car. "Only for the first couple hundred miles."

"What, didn't Bo keep you company?"

Hutch snorted. "If you like talking about fast cars and women and all 20 inhabitants of Hazzard County." Hutch dragged his feet as they made their way to the check-in office. "The guy really needs to get out more."

"Okay, how 'bout we trade tomorrow. I'll take Bo and you take Luke. He's too quiet anyway."

Hutch studied his partner with a critical eye. While Hutch felt like he hadn't slept in days, Starsky looked as chipper as ever. "Aren't you sick of driving?" he asked as they walked.

Starsky looked at him. "How can you get sick of driving?"

Hutch forgot. Starsky loved this sort of thing. Cars were the brunet's hobby, and the fact that he had spent the day in that souped-up orange muscle car was probably a thrill for the detective.

Hutch was happy that Starsky was happy and he made and effort to smile. The bone-deep weariness was swallowing him whole even as they spoke. When had driving gotten so hard? He thought back to early this morning, when they brought their plan to Captain Dobey. The whole thing had barely passed with the reluctant Captain, who informed the detectives that he'd 'rather not know the details of their personal lives'. They were dismissed from the office rather quickly, but somehow Hutch felt the after-effects of a father's concern.

Last night, the four had mapped out the route to Georgia over dinner at Huggy's. It wasn't until Starsky had two slices of pizza put away that he *finally* picked up on what Hutch and Luke had been discussing for the past half hour.

"Twenty three hundred miles?!" he coughed, dropping the pizza to his plate.

Hutch's expression held a tinge of exasperation. "Yeah, Starsk, your car is currently residing on the other side of the country."

Starsky looked from Bo to Luke, then at his partner. "How many days will it take?"

Hutch dropped his gaze to the map and traced a pencil over a large portion of it. "If we leave early, drive all day, and only stop to eat, sleep and refuel… three days."

A silent explosion of nothingness stilled the air around the four. Hutch watched as Starsky's gaze turned inward and he thought through the implications of the cross-country trek.

"Let's do it."

That had been over twenty four hours ago. Hutch rubbed his face, bringing him back to the present and followed Starsky into the dim motel room. Two large beds stretched out before them and a pathetic little TV sat against the opposite wall. The carpet was well worn and flat, the drapes were dusty, and there was a mysterious stain on the wallpaper beside the TV.

It would do.

"Okay, so this is nice, but where's our room?" Bo asked, breaking the silence.

Hutch 'gracefully collapsed', as he called it, onto the nearest bed and stared up at a cobweb as Starsky fielded the question.

"This is your room. You're still in our custody, and no offense, but I'm not taking any chances on having you two escape. Besides, you're cousins. I'm sure your used to it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bo snapped, staring at Starsky straight on.

"Come on, you're cousins, you're from Georgia…"

"Starsky." It was Hutch's turn to reel in his partner. The brunet always had been blunt with his honest observations.

Luke pushed Bo towards the bed and Hutch wondered how many times the older cousin had to leash his quick-tempered relative.

Probably as many times as he had to with Starsky.

"Look," Luke started in the classic good-guy persona, "We've been driving all day and we're all a little cranky. Let's just get some food and call it a night, okay?"

"Fine with me," Bo huffed.

As much as Hutch wanted to simply pass out, the burn of stomach acid was eating away at his insides relentlessly. He had only picked at lunch, unable to ingest the plate of deep-fried grease. Now, he just might give in. Hutch pulled himself off the bed and followed the others as they made their way back out into the dry heat of night. A jackrabbit bolted from it's hiding place and took off into the night, leaving only a trail of displaced sand in it's wake. Hutch watched it with envy, wishing he had that much energy.

Starsky pushed open the door to the restaurant and a cluster of bells jingled overhead. Hutch automatically began scanning the room and the other patrons, a habit born of career.

There was only one waitress visible, but considering the time of night, they were lucky for that many. A teenaged couple were sitting side by side in a booth, sharing a piece of pie. The majority of the customers were gathered at a table in the back corner. They were all men, and fairly big men at that. The condition of their clothes and skin suggested that these were the owners of the semi trucks parked out front. There were six men total, and the group seemed to be having an animated and boisterous conversation. Family restaurant by day, truck stop by night.

Hutch was the last to slid onto a seat at the bar. Bo was on the far end, nearest the group of truckers, Luke was on his left, then Starsky. The cousins each picked up the one-page glossy menu and silently looked it over. Hutch began doing the same before Starsky leaned over just a bit.

"Hey, thanks."

Hutch looked up. "For what?"

"For doing this with me. For dragging that junk heap of yours across the county. It means a lot."

Hutch smiled. "My pleasure." He risked a glance at Bo and Luke then added, "I just wish you had picked better company. What's with that cookie jar they're carrying around? They treat it like it's made out of gold."

Starsky returned the grin. "Hey, they're hillbillies. Does anything they do make sense?" When Hutch only rolled his eyes, Starsky continued, "Come on Hutch, lighten up. At least you're not a work. And just think, when I get my car, everything will go back to normal."

Hutch snorted. Starsky, his car, and 'normal' did not belong in the same sentence.

A short time later, the four were eating a late dinner in peace. The teenagers had left and the truckers had kept to themselves. The food was good, the atmosphere was warm, and the waitress was pretty.

Little did they know, she would be their downfall.

"Hey Sally, how 'bout another round of beers for me and the boys?" one of the truckers shouted, earning cheers from his companions.

"Sorry Clyde, you boys have had enough," the waitress responded as she gathered some empty plates from their table. "You're gonna drink me right out of business!"

Hutch picked at his salad, his attention now on the scene unfolding to his right.

"Then I suggest you stock up," Clyde replied gruffly, a frown deepening on his tanned face.

The lone cook stilled his movements in the kitchen and Hutch felt his gun grow heavier against his ribs.

Sally tried to laugh it off. Her arms were full of stacked plates as she made to leave. "Sorry boys, not tonight. I gotta get home to my kids."

"They can wait," Clyde growled, and snaked out a beefy arm, snagging Sally as she started to turn. Her arm was pulled and the stack of plates dropped to the floor, some of them shattering upon impact. "We're not going anywhere," Clyde pushed, giving her a shove.

Hutch tensed, preparing to follow his partner into battle.

Surprisingly, Bo was the first to move. "I suggest you stop bothering the lady," he said, the words low and menacing as his body went rigid.

Clyde's smile fell as he looked to Bo, then his eyes traveled down the line of strangers. "You say something, boy?"

Bo was off the stool and approaching the truckers with what Hutch would either classify as extreme bravery or extreme stupidity.

Perhaps a little of both.

Faithfully, Luke was right behind his cousin. "You heard him," the brunet challenged. "Leave her alone."

The six truckers stood, following Clyde's lead. Sally was now safely behind the counter and the cook was beside her, comforting her. Clyde glared at the waitress but then directed his attention to Starsky and Hutch. "And what do you two have to say about it?"

Starsky left his seat and moved to stand with Bo and Luke. Somewhere, deep down inside Hutch, he wanted to shake his head and disappear. This was beyond stupid. They were out of their jurisdiction by several hundred miles, and besides that, he didn't think a badge or gun would scare these heavy-set truck drivers at all. However, Hutch had never been one to ignore a call of distress, especially from a lady. So mechanically, he rose from the barstool and joined his partner at the battle line.

"Didn't your mother teach you how to play nice?" was the best he could come up with.

Hey, they were outnumbered six to four.

A smile formed on Clyde's face as a snake side-winds through sand. Without looking behind him, he said flatly, "Get 'em."

The room exploded into action. A large, tattooed man with a ponytail came at Hutch and he barely ducked a meaty fist in time. Hutch spun and backed into the man, grabbing his arm and yanking it forward, over his shoulder.

The man didn't budge.

Hutch faltered for a second in confusion, and that was all the time the trucker needed. Hutch was rocketed towards the bar and slammed into the edge, doubling over it before sliding to the floor.

And it all got worse from there.

The air was filled with the sounds of breaking glass, splintering wood, grunts and curses, and flesh hitting flesh as a good old fashioned brawl broke out. Hutch was still on the floor when his assailant charged forward and delivered a strong kick to Hutch's midsection. Pain blossomed in his stomach, pushing all the air from his lungs, and Hutch swore he regurgitated that last bite of salad. People were swirling above him and he could barely make out Bo, still on his feet, and delivering a powerful blow to his attacker's head, dropping the trucker to the floor.

Hutch didn't know the kid had it in him.

Then Hutch was pulled to his feet by the collar of his shirt and propped against the bar. Pony-Tail pulled back for another swing and Hutch collapsed more than ducked, dodging the strike once again. He spun away, somehow staying on his feet, and reached for his gun. Enough was enough. They were going to get killed.

Well, severely beat anyway.

"Police, freeze!" Hutch shouted into the frenzy, withdrawing his gun simultaneously.

Hutch didn't even have a chance to aim before a chair hit him from behind. Wood cracked and splintered and flew past his head and shoulders as the gun dropped to the floor, immediately vanishing into the debris and scuffling bodies. Panic flared within him even as he tumbled to the floor.

He rolled with the blow, trying to right himself quickly in a world that swayed like a ship at sea. He caught a glimpse of Starsky, defending himself with an empty beer bottle. The glass shattered as it struck a skull, and another trucker went down for the count.

Was Hutch the only one having trouble here?

Black leather boots filled his vision and Hutch rolled away, scrambling to his feet. Now Pony-Tail was wielding a steak knife and advancing with menace. Hutch struck out with his foot, connecting solidly for the first time that night, and the steak knife went clattering under a table near Luke, just as the brunet took a blow to the face. Luke stumbled back into the table and his assailant followed. Luke pushed off from the table and threw his entire body into a mean left hook, dropping the third trucker of the night.

Hutch didn't have time to realize the numbers had changed. Pony-Tail swung and connected, numbing Hutch's jaw and pushing him back into a table. Hutch's hands flew to the table to catch himself, and his fingers connected with an empty glass. Like a hound dog on a chicken bone, Hutch seized the weapon and swung, oddly enjoying the tinkling of glass at it shattered against Pony-Tail's head.

Hutch looked up, panting and still using the table to hold himself upright, and watched as Starsky knocked out a fifth trucker with his fists, and Bo the sixth with one of the wooden chairs.

Suddenly silence filled the air of 'Sally's Family Restaurant', save for the panting of four advocators.

Hutch looked to Starsky, noting the beginning of a handsome black eye, and nodded once. "You okay?"

Starsky returned the nod. "Yeah, you?"

Hutch winced as he realized that no, he probably was *not* okay, but it was nothing that warranted medical attention. "Yeah, great." To ignore the pain in his face, ribs and shoulders, Hutch moved forward and retrieved his gun, thrusting it back in the holster securely.

He straightened with difficulty and looked at the cousins, feeling sympathy as Luke tried to stop his nose from bleeding. Bo was trying to brush off glass fragments and wood splinters from his shoulders and hair. "You guys okay?"

Bo sniffed and looked up, squaring his shoulders. A small smile crept over his face. "Just like bein' at home."

Having chanced his opinion of the blond in the last five minutes, Hutch felt the need to say something congratulatory. "I like your moves."

Bo's grin broadened. "I like your style."

Luke limped towards the closest chair and dropped into it, tilting his head back. When Hutch shot him a concerned look, the burnet simply waved him off, signaling he would be fine. Hutch looked around the small restaurant, noting all the broken chairs, tables, glass, blood and limp bodies on the floor.

He looked at Sally and the cook, who appeared to be her husband, relieved to see them still safely in the corner. They stared back with wide eyes.

Starsky cleared his throat, capturing their attention.

"Uh… check please?"

~o0O0o~

11:21pm
Day 2
Haskell, Oklahoma

Hutch was too tired to yawn.

The floorboards of his car were littered with empty paper coffee cups and candy wrappers. Hutch blinked hard, not even remembering when he ate the candy. A thick, warm cloud was forming around him and dampening all his senses, even slowing down his mind. He barely remembered stopping for a quick lunch, and was pretty sure they'd decided via CB to drive through the dinner break and order in at the motel instead.

That would explain the burning in his gut.

The scene was familiar as the four men filed into the rundown motel room. Starsky had thoughtfully visited the nearby convenience store beforehand, and now toted a couple six-packs and bagged snacks through the door. Bo was outside, and Luke had claimed the bathroom to take a shower.

"Just one more day," Starsky said, tossing a cold beer to Hutch.

Hutch fumbled with the can and it bounced onto the bed beneath him. He leaned sideways, feeling the pull in his stiff and sore shoulder muscles, and snatched the can. "Thanks," he grunted, settling back against the wooden headboard.

Amazingly, Hutch had slept soundly last night, too exhausted to be affected by various grunts and groans from his roommates. After the police showed up at Sally's Restaurant and carted off the trouble-making truck drivers, Hutch and his companions helped Sally clean the place up. She had been grateful, providing them with baggies of ice cubes to hold to their injuries and even providing a complementary breakfast before they left Grants.

The drive had been hard and long, stretching from 8:30 am until now, a little before 11:30pm, with only an hour break for lunch. Today, however, Hutch found himself in better spirits. Last night's brawl seemed to have unified the quartet. They had joined forces, fighting for the greater good, and that mentality carried over into today. Still, there was something… *not right* with those two, something that set Hutch's suspicions on high. However, until he had more information, Hutch would remain in good spirits.

True to his word, Starsky had traded cousins, letting Hutch drive with Luke, much to Hutch's relief. He liked both cousins- he really did- but there was a difference between *liking* someone and enjoying their company for 12 hours at a time. When they stopped to eat lunch at a small sandwich joint, the meal had been peaceful despite Bo's ongoing animated conversation with Starsky. The irritation that had been brought about by Bo's constant talk was nearly gone today, and Hutch actually found himself drawn into the stories of the General Lee's great escapes.

Hutch brought himself back to the present when Starsky broke the silence of the motel room.

"Hey, come look at this."

Hutch sighed softly, and peeled his body off the bed. "What is it?" he asked, moving beside Starsky.

"He's doing it again."

Hutch peered through the darkness and out towards the parking lot. Bo was standing before the open trunk of the General, holding that strange pig-shaped cookie jar. Apparently satisfied, he set it back down and closed the trunk.

"I'm telling you Starsk, there's something wrong with that pig."

"They do seem a little obsessed about keeping it safe, don't they?" Starsky asked.

"Every time we stop, one of them makes sure it hasn't been broken." Hutch folded his arms. "I think we need to check it out."

"You think they're hiding something in there?" Starsky questioned. "I heard they were just delivering it to someone back in Hazzard County. They said it was someone's heirloom?"

"They sure have strange heirlooms in Georgia," Hutch murmured. "I'll try to sneak out to the car later, we'll see what's really going on with your hillbilly friends."

The room door opened and Bo entered, tossing a duffle bag onto the floor before plopping down on the second bed.

Hutch retreated back to the bed as Starsky smoothly changed the subject.

"Hey, look at this," Starsky said, turning away from the sliding glass door to get Hutch's attention. "This place has a pool."

"Yeah? What's it filled with?"

Starsky turned back towards the glass. "Water?"

Hutch snorted softly. Starsky's black eye had deepened in color impressively since morning. The brunet wore the injury like a medal of honor, soaking in all the attention of the nurturing females of Texas. He had even managed to teach the outgoing Bo a more subtle way of flirting, which Hutch considered an amazing accomplishment.

"Well what else would it be filled with?" Bo asked, rising from his seat on the second bed.

Luke emerged from the bathroom, bare-chested and wearing his signature jeans. He was still rubbing a towel over his hair as he caught the beer Starsky tossed him.

Grinning, Hutch said, "Hey, Luke, take a look outside. It's one of them concrete ponds!"

"You're cute," Luke tossed back, joining Bo and Starsky at the glass door. "Thinkin' of goin' for a swim?"

"Hutch over there thinks the water is contaminated," Starsky grumbled, and the three men turned their heads to stare at Hutch.

Hutch held up his hands and a drop of sweat fell from the beer can. "If you three want to take a swim, be my guest."

"Well I'm too tired to sleep, so we do you say we take this party outside?" Bo suggested, grabbing a can and moving for the door.

Shortly thereafter, the foursome had moved outside and were occupying the majority of the plastic lounge chairs. Black nighttime sky surrounded them, bringing a cool breeze from the east. Crickets chirped from the depths of the surrounding landscape and the full moon was shining brightly, reflecting off the rippling water of the pool. It was the kind of night that made you want to live in Oklahoma.

Hutch took another drink and pulled his gaze away from the mesmerizing waters to look at the Dukes. "Moonshine?" he asked, bringing back the conversation from two days ago. "Aren't you guys a little young to be involved in running moonshine?"

"Dukes have been makin' moonshine for generations," Luke replied, meeting Hutch's eyes briefly before turning back to the pool. "Uncle Jesse is the best there is. He's still got the family recipe, but he keeps it in here." Luke tapped his temple.

"So what made you stop?"

"Getting caught," Luke half-snorted. "That's when me and Bo were put on probation. Uncle Jesse made a promise to the president of the United States that he wouldn't make any more moonshine. Us Dukes never go back on our word."

"So what do you do now?" Starsky asked.

"We work the farm, mostly. We help out around town doing odd jobs, stuff like that."

Starsky looked up. "Farm?"

Bo caught the underlying tone of doubt and replied, "It's not a big farm. We got chickens, a couple goats, a horse… lotta crops."

"So it's just you two and your uncle living there?"

"Our cousin Daisy lives with us too," Bo replied, then drained his beer.

"Three cousins and an uncle?" Starsky asked, throwing Bo another beer. "Where's your parents?"

Bo looked at Luke then opened his beer. Luke was the one to answer, "They were killed in a car crash a few years ago." He paused, then, "We needed Uncle Jesse as much as he needed us."

Both detectives dropped their gaze. Starsky apologized softly, then asked carefully, "What do you do for fun?"

Bo brightened and sat up a little straighter. "We go to Atlanta to watch the car races, although bein' chased by Rosco is pretty fun too."

"NASCAR?" Hutch asked.

Luke nodded. "Bo wishes he could be a driver like Rusty Wallace," he teased, smiling at his cousin. "We also get to see a lot of country singers, thanks to Boss Hogg and his speed traps. He don't let anyone leave without puttin' on a free show."

Starsky chuckled. "See Hutch? They like country music. You'll fit right in."

Hutch rolled his eyes and glowered playfully. "I like more than just country, Starsk, I like…"

Hutch trailed off, watching as a group of three teenagers moved quickly through the shadows, away from the pool and towards the parking lot. They were whispering and moving as a tight group, talking excitedly about something secret. Hutch watched with narrowed eyes as they moved away. Something about the boys put him on edge. He was a boy once, after all.

Starsky turned to look in the direction Hutch was staring in. "Where'd they come from?" he asked, lowering his beer slightly.

The Dukes also turned to watch, just as the boys disappeared. Hutch blinked away the strain in his eyes and replied, "I don't know. It's probably nothing, they're just kids." He sighed and turned back towards his companions. "So your sheriff catches a lot of people in these speed traps?"

"He tries," Bo laughed, relaxing into his chair. "We usually outrun him though."

Hutch furrowed his brows. "So you resist arrest?"

"I… well, we…" Bo blinked, then turned to Luke for help.

"I'm kidding," Hutch smiled, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I mean, technically, you are resisting arrest, but I'm sure you're aware of how the justice system works," he took a drink, "Being born into a family of moon shiners and all."

"I haven't heard either of you mention a girl," Starsky noted, shifting on his lounge chair. "Aren't they any women in Hazzard County?"

"Bo's done scared 'em all off," Luke chuckled. "Never stops him from tryin' though."

"Hey, you all smell that?" Bo asked, turning his head towards the breeze. "Sure smells like someone's havin' a cookout."

"Maybe they'd be willing to share," Luke mumbled, looking into the night with hunger in his eyes.

A flicker of light caught Hutch's attention. He stilled his body, trying to discern the odd motion amidst the long night shadows. Something was glowing within their hotel room, blinking randomly and throwing off an orange light. Was a light bulb about to burn out? Immediately disregarding that option, Hutch sat up a little straighter. Was someone breaking in to their room?

"Hey Starsk," he said, knowing that would be enough for the brunet to take notice also.

Hutch stared at the light a few seconds longer, stiffening with unease. When the breeze picked up, carrying the strong scent of smoke, Hutch knew at once what he was staring at.

"Fire!"

His warning was pierced by the shrill scream of the hotel's smoke alarms. The four men jumped to their feet as families began running from their rooms and out into the night, disoriented and confused. By the time Hutch ran across the pool's concrete and back to their room door, the fire inside had swelled dramatically. The crackling flames were consuming the door that led to the motel's hallway, and the walls on either side. It was creeping further and further into the room, towards the beds and strewn-about duffle bags.

Hutch hit the sliding glass door head on, fumbling with his right hand for the handle. The others came to a stop behind him, then Starsky announced that he was going around to help the others escape safely. Terrified screams filled the air now, making it impossible to concentrate on more than one thing. Starsky's words danced over Hutch's conscious and planted themselves somewhere in Hutch's mind, waiting to be called upon at a later time. Out of his peripheral vision, Hutch saw the cousins take off after Starsky.

The door handle was warm to the touch, and Hutch briefly thought about how unusually quickly the fire was spreading. He slid the door open quickly, holding his breath and closing his eyes against the wave of heat and smoke that tumbled out of the room. He waved his hand in front of his face, helping the smoke to dissipate into the cool night air. When the smoke was bearable, he plunged into the motel room.

Hutch grabbed what he could, skirting leaping flames and billowing smoke as he made his way through the room. What was the floor made out of anyway, and why was it so flammable? The fire was growing rapidly, eating the carpet and climbing it's way up the floor-length drapes adorning the sliding glass door he entered through. Barely recognizable under the fire alarms was the actual roar of the fire and crackle of flames. The heat pinched Hutch's skin and made his eyes water, spurring him to move faster and grab anything salvageable.

By the time Hutch had slung all four open duffle bags over his shoulders, the fire was almost completely engulfing the room. Something exploded and shattered from within the bathroom. Hutch reoriented himself and faced the glass door, unable to see outside any longer for the leaping flames around the doorway. It would be close, but through that door was his only way out. His thoughts landed on Starsky and the others, hoping they were all safe.

Then, without a second thought, Hutch ducked his head and pushed forward. The stinging orange flames seemed to leap forth, reaching out with weightless tentacles and tried to drag him back. The weight of the duffle bags thumped against him as he ran, pushing him forward and finally out the open door.

The cooling Oklahoma air enveloped him as soon as he crossed the motel's threshold. Hutch's footsteps were heavy as goose bumps erupted on his bare arms.

Stumbling, Hutch dropped the bags to the concrete and focused on breathing. His lungs burned and his chest ached as he gulped in clean air. The effort forced him to double over, clutching his knees with a white-knuckled grip as he fought to keep his heart within it's cage. When his momentum finally ran out, Hutch found himself near the pool's edge, where they had been sitting only moments before.

Even as he stood a safe distance from the burning motel, Hutch could still feel the burn of the raging flames. His head was clearing as his adrenaline level returned to normal. His backside stung, covering the distance from his calves to his lower back, and Hutch began to straighten, hoping he wasn't seriously burned when a shout- Starsky's shout- cut through the air.

"Hutch! Fire!"

Confused, Hutch began to turn towards his partner when a warm, solid body impacted with his, knocking his completely off his feet. For a moment, he was flying through midair, and in the next instant, Hutch plunged into the icy water of the pool.

Underwater, his lungs immediately took on some chlorinated water as Hutch reflexively gasped as the shock. Bubbles and current swirled around him, and in the night, he couldn't tell which direction was up. His flailing arms cut through the water in his desperate struggles, connecting with the other body. Suddenly a hand was on his shirt collar and Hutch was cutting through the water, breaking the surface at last.

With a noisy gasp, Hutch inhaled as much oxygen as he could, blinking through blurry, stinging eyes. His lungs burned harder than before, but this time with relief. The hand was still on him and tugging him to the side of the pool.

Hutch felt himself make dull impact with the scratchy concrete and he shot his hands out to grasp the pool's edge tightly. A voice was droning on in worried tones overhead, and Hutch was sure there were more than two hands on him, helping to keep him afloat.

"Hutch, come on buddy, you're gonna be okay, just breath…"

Hutch blinked away the chlorine-induced fogginess and searched his surroundings. Starsky was above him, balanced precariously on his hands and knees at the pool's edge, looking down at Hutch with worry and shock. Bo was crouched beside him, yet allowing Starsky enough space to maneuver. When Hutch finally thought to look at the person bobbing in the water beside him, he found Luke.

"You okay?" Starsky asked, dispersing the last of Hutch's shock.

Hutch nodded and released the pool side with one hand, rubbing his eyes. "What happened?"

Starsky looked into Hutch's soul then, and Hutch realized how scared his partner had truly been. His face seemed a little pale, or was it simply the moonlight? The moment was quick but powerful, as it always was when blue locked on blue. "You were on fire," Starsky replied, rocking back on his heels.

So that was the burning he had felt- it was an actual flame?

"We saw the flames behind you. I was closest, and this was the first thing that came to my head," Luke explained, waving off Bo's helping hand as the blond reached down. "Call it instincts. I'm sorry."

Hutch blinked, then began moving his feet once more when his chin dipped into the water. "Instincts?"

"Marines."

Hutch raised his eyebrows, impressed by this new knowledge. "Don't apologize," he said, holding out his hand. "I should be thanking you."

Luke smiled and grabbed his hand, shaking quickly but firmly. After releasing the brunet, Hutch turned towards the side and began to get out of the water. It hurt, using his exhausted muscles when the already protested so strongly, but doggie paddling in the pool all night was not an option. His back did sting a little, perhaps from the chlorine as it soaked into his burns. His ribs still ached from the blow he took during the fight last night, and all the smoke and irritation was not helping matters.

Starsky dug in his heels and heaved his partner from the pool's heavy grasp as Hutch eyed the terrified civilians in the parking lot. "Is everyone okay?" he asked, grateful for *all* of Starsky's help.

Starsky nodded, beginning to regain his animation. "We got everyone out. They're all waiting in the parking lot. The fire department has already been called, they should be here soon."

"You think it was the boys?" Hutch asked, trying fruitlessly to wring out his favorite shirt.

"It had to be. The fire spread too fast to be natural. The question is, why?"

"We'll find that out when we find the boys," Hutch replied, giving up on the shirt and letting the material cling to his skin. He looked into Starsky's eyes, searching. "You up for some hunting?"

Starsky let his gaze travel downwards over Hutch. "You sure you're okay? I think you should get checked out, I mean, you were on fire…"

A cool breeze rustled the surrounding greenery and Hutch shivered. He needed a long shower to rinse the chemicals from his back and hopefully ease the pain that lingered. But a hospital…? "What's the damage?" he asked, turning partially to let Starsky see his backside.

Silence hung over his three companions, and Hutch translated the quiet quickly. "That bad?"

"You, uh, might wanna find some new clothes before you go hunting anything," Bo spoke up.

Suddenly Starsky's fingers were on him, lightly moving over his back. "Any longer and you woulda been in serious trouble," he murmured. "They're nearly burnt through."

Hutch swallowed and faced Starsky, looking in his eyes. "I got the duffle bags, and I think most of our stuff was still in them. I'll go change, and then we can look for the boys, okay?"

Starsky nodded and looked to the burning motel, the bright flames reflecting in his eyes.

"Why do you think the sprinklers never kicked on?" Luke asked. "Shouldn't a motel have a sprinkler system?"

Hutch shrugged and made his way to the duffle bags. "Maybe it malfunctioned, or maybe the kids tampered with it." Finally, sirens became audible in the distance as Hutch grabbed the strap of his bag. Things must run a little slowly out here in Oklahoma. As he straightened and slung the singed strap over his shoulder, a quiet *pop* sounded from within the building, followed by a cascade of glittering water. The fire shrank back momentarily and hissed, reacting to the water before burning brighter.

So, the sprinkler system worked after all. Well, better late than never.

Bo snorted. "Well would ya look at that. What do you call that… ironic?" he laughed, laying an elbow on Luke's wet shoulder. His blue eyes were alight with amusement. "Uncle Jesse always said, 'Patience is the greatest of all virtues.' Guess he was right again, huh Luke?"

Hutch was still numbly watching the water fall as Luke acknowledged his cousin.

"Yeah, Bo, I guess he was right again."

~o0O0O~

"What do you think we're going to find?" Starsky asked as he crept through the shadows behind Hutch.

"For their sakes, I hope we don't find a thing."

It was nearly three in the morning and the detectives were sneaking through the dark motel parking lot, towards the General Lee. After the fire had been put out, all of the motel's occupants were relocated to a motel further down the street, at the business owner's expense. The local police had picked up the teenagers only a few blocks away from the smoldering motel. An elderly woman had overheard them bragging to their friends about the arson and called in a report. Now, the teens were likely sitting in a holding cell, thinking that this whole thing wasn't such a good idea after ll.

The burns on Hutch's back were beginning to throb and the worst areas were blistering, but Hutch refused going to the hospital on the grounds that prior experience had given him the knowledge to care for the injuries himself. So, after downing some pain killers and applying aloe to the burns, he and Starsky had simply waited until the Dukes fell asleep.

"I can't help feeling a little bad about this," Starsky confessed as they approached the orange Charger. "I mean, they seem so innocent and all. I was kinda starting to like them."

Hutch leaned inside the car through the driver's window and popped the trunk. When he straightened, he laid a hand on Starsky's shoulder. "Let's just see what's in that cookie jar first, okay?"

Starsky sighed as Hutch moved away. "What do you think they got in there, huh?"

Hutch pushed open the trunk and peered downwards. "A spare tire, a jack, a chain," he listed, moving items aside as he spoke. "Here it is."

Hutch held up the cookie jar and the smooth ceramic reflected the light of a nearby streetlamp. Starsky moved closer, glancing around as he did so.

After glancing at Starsky, Hutch took the pig's head off, promptly handing it to his partner. Then, holding the pig's body over the General's trunk, he turned it over.

Nothing came out.

Hutch gave the cookie jar a shake.

"You don't think that there might not be anything for us to find, do you?" Starsky asked, tossing the pig's head straight up and catching it when it came down. "I mean, maybe that story about just delivering this thing is true."

Hutch shook the cookie jar one more time then stuck his hand inside. "I don't feel anything," Hutch said after a moment. He sighed and withdrew his hand. "I'd hate to think that you were right."

Starsky glared at Hutch. "Hey, I resent that. I think the problem is really that you can't admit when you're wrong." He threw the ceramic pig head up in the air.

"I can too," Hutch huffed, turning his gaze back to the trunk. "Maybe it's not in the cookie jar, maybe it's-"

An ominous crash had Hutch shutting his eyes in denial. "Tell me I did not just hear that."

There was a pause, then, "Oops."

Hutch opened his eyes, sending quick prayer towards the heavens before turning to view the damage. Starsky was grinning at him sheepishly, tiny fragments of pink ceramic littering the blacktop at his feet.

Hutch pulled a stick of gum from his back pocket and handed it to his partner. "You better get to work."

Starsky laughed nervously. "You're kidding, right?"

Hutch surveyed the mess. "Well, unless you got a better idea… what's that?"

"What?" Starsky watched Hutch kneel upon the parking lot. The blond reached out and Starsky was about to chide his partner for handling broken glass when Hutch held up a small, glittering diamond.

Hutch lifted his gaze to meet Starsky's. "Looks like our hillbillies have something to hide after all."

Starsky's spirits dropped. "Yeah."

~o0O0o~

The pink rays of a gentle Oklahoma sunrise filtered through the motel windows, squeezing it's way in between the heavy drapes and the wall. Songbirds chirped happily as they searched for breakfast. The only sounds inside the room were those of even breathing. Suddenly, there was a click and a loud rumble shattered the peacefulness of the motel room when the air conditioning kicked on.

Luke started awake, raising his head off the pillow and blinking owlishly as he looked around the dimly lit room.

Hutch tossed the bag of jewels at the brunet. "I think an explanation is in order," he stated flatly from his seat on an over-stuffed chair next to the window. Starsky was sitting on the second bed, watching the Duke with a sort of sad curiosity.

Luke picked up the bag and sat up, then rubbed his eyes as he turned the bag over in his hands. Bo was waking up also, and became confused to find that everyone else was already awake and looking like they were in the middle of an important conversation.

"What's goin' on?" Bo asked, looking to his cousin.

Luke stared at the tiny polished jewels with wide eyes. "Where'd these come from?" he asked, looking up at Hutch.

"Come on, cut the act," Hutch replied. "They were in your cookie jar, the one you've been so careful to avoid breaking this whole time. Did you really think we didn't notice?" he asked, seeing the Duke's bewildered faces. "We're detectives for crying out loud."

"I haven't seen these before in my life," Luke stated simply, suddenly handling the jewels like they were a rattlesnake. "I don't know what you got in your heads-"

"Now wait a minute," Bo interrupted. "We told you, we were only taking that thing back to Boss Hogg for him to give to Lulu! We ain't no jewel thieves or anything else!"

A spark of enlightenment flashed in Luke's eyes. "Of course. Boss Hogg set us up once again," he mumbled, looking to Bo.

Hutch narrowed his eyes. "Don't go placing this on somebody else," he started. "You knew about those rocks the whole time."

"We didn't, honest!" Bo argued, raising his voice as he got to his feet. "We don't know a thing about those diamonds and if you think otherwise, then you're no better than Boss!"

"Maybe you better start from the beginning," Starsky said quietly, but firmly from his place on the bed.

The cousins looked at each other and Luke took a deep breath. "We told you 'bout Rosco and how he was a good cop till he lost his pension, right?" When the detectives nodded, he continued, "Well he's working for Boss Hogg now, and helping out on every scheme Boss can cook up for a cut of the profit. They're always looking for ways to steal money from innocent townsfolk-"

"Like me and Luke," Bo interjected.

"…Like me and Bo," Luke continued, "and one way they do that is by settin' up all sorts of fake traffic signs and such."

Hutch was not impressed so far. "Go on."

Luke tried to hurry up. "Well, before we left, Rosco caught us on one of his speed traps and we didn't have the money to pay the ticket."

"And they knew that, too," Bo added.

"So Boss tells us that if we go out to California and pick up his wife's priceless family heirloom, and return it without any damage-"

"Without one scratch-"

"Then he's drop the charges against us," Luke finished.

"What, don't you guys get UPS service out in Hazzard County?" Hutch asked sarcastically.

"Boss said the cookie jar was too fragile to ship," Luke replied instantly.

"So the thing with your cousin was a lie?" Starsky asked.

"No, we saw him. We stayed with my brother Judd to save money."

"And he really was sick!" Bo added.

"Okay," Hutch sighed, hating to admit that their story did hold water, even if just a little. "Suppose we believe you. You didn't think there was *anything* strange about this whole little endeavor?"

Bo and Luke looked at each other. "Well, we are talking about Boss Hogg here."

Hutch turned to Starsky. They were in a predicament now, weren't they? The pain in his back flared along with his indecisiveness. He wanted to believe the cousins, especially after Luke's show of selfless courage last night, but there was still the problem of the 'hot' rocks and a greedy little Hazzard commissioner. He searched Starsky for help.

Starsky shifted his weight. "Alright, look. We came this far, we might as well finish. We'll continue on to Hazzard like planned." He checked his watch. "If we leave now, we might make it there by tonight. Put the diamonds back for now. Me and Hutch'll think of something."

Hutch looked skeptical as the Dukes breathed a sigh of relief. "We will?"

"Yeah," Starsky replied, standing. "We will. Right after breakfast."

~o0O0o~

'It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power.'
-Alan Cohen

"Starsky, it's a car, not an off-road vehicle."

"I know! I'm sorry, but it's not me… it's all these dirt roads!"

Hutch groaned and buried his face in the worn fabric of his own car's back seat. He had learned a few key points about superficial burns last night; the most important being that they certainly hurt worse in the morning. Actually, they started *really* hurt about fifteen minutes after you acquired them, and the pain just keeps mounting. There was a sort of grace period in there, after the fire and before the pain, and had Hutch known it was only temporary, he probably would have tried to enjoy it a whole lot more.

Now, after spending a sleepless night and most of the day in agony, the pain was finally starting to fade. Hutch lay stretched out (or folded up, depending on how you looked at it) on his stomach on the rear seat of the LTD. The more severe burns had blistered and his whole back felt hot and raw, making the simple task of driving utterly impossible. Starsky, despite Hutch's assurances that, yes, he *would* be alright if a Duke drove, refused to leave Hutch's side and in turn, gave the Dukes the freedom of driving the General Lee. After all, the cousins had more than proved themselves in the past two days. If they were going to make a run for it, they would have done so before leaving California.

"You okay back there?" Starsky asked, breaking Hutch's quiet reflection.

"Just fine, for a person who can't move," Hutch grumbled. Maybe it was time for some more pain relievers.

"You know, seeing you on fire like that really scared me," Starsky admitted quietly, keeping his eyes on the road. "I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner."

Hutch rolled his eyes silently, not wanting to hurt Starsky for admitting his feelings. Hadn't they already had this conversation? A couple times, even? "Starsky, don't apologize. So Luke beat you to me. It's no big deal, I'm fine." He paused. "Okay buddy?"

Starsky grumbled something to himself and kept on the trail of the Charger's taillights.

"I'll let you push me in the pool next time, I promise."

Hutch caught Starsky's smile in the rear view mirror.

"I'll hold you to that."

Hutch returned the smile and let his eyes rest. It had long since turned dark outside, but neither party wanted to quit driving now that they were this close to their destination, and this close to finding out the truth about the diamonds discovered in the cookie jar the Dukes were carrying. They were through Arkansas and into Mississippi by lunch, and then had continued on through Alabama and into Georgia. The day had become a blur of pit stops and dirt roads for Hutch, who could only see a sliver of scenery from his compromising position on the back seat.

He would admit, Alabama did have a nice cumulonimbus cloud system.

"Man, I'm so hungry I could eat a horse," Starsky grumbled.

"Don't say that," Hutch warned. "You might very well get it."

Starsky's eyes narrowed in thought, then he shook his head as if dismissing the idea. "You can't *really* eat a horse, can you? Is this like the time you told me that talking to that stupid cactus would make it grow better?"

Hutch snorted softly, remembering the tiny little plant Starsky had gotten as a gift from one of his dates. "I'm sure you *can* eat a horse, I just don't know how you'd cook it."

"Why are we even talking about this?" Starsky shuddered, rubbing his face with one hand. "Farm cooking can't be that bad, I mean, look at the Dukes."

Hutch blinked.

"Well okay, don't look-"

"No, wait a minute Starsky. What do you mean, 'Farm Cooking'?"

Starsky rolled his head back, cracking his neck before answering, "You know, grits and chitlins and stuff."

"Starsky, do you even know what chitlins are?"

"They're vegetables."

Maybe some things were better left unsaid.

"Lost Sheep to Starsky, Lost Sheep to Starsky, you got your ears on? Comeback."

"What is it with these guys and the codenames?" Starsky grumbled, snatching the CB from the LTD's dashboard. "I told you, it's Zebra Three. Now go ahead."

Hutch snorted quietly.

"Just wanted to let you guys know that we're about 5 miles outside of Hazzard County."

Those words were music to Hutch's ears. He closed his eyes in relief as the LTD bounced through a pothole.

"Hey, you hear that Hutch?" Starsky asked over his shoulder. "You made it! See, I told you all this driving was good for you. It frees the spirit."

"I think all this fresh country air is turning you into some sort of poet," Hutch mumbled, pushing himself upright. He folded his arms over the back of the passenger seat and looked out the windshield. After a few moments, he asked, "Is it me, or has their driving improved since we turned off the pavement?"

Starsky chuckled. "You know, Bo was telling me earlier that he used to test drive stock cars. I didn't believe him then, but I'm starting to change my mind."

"Yeah? Was that the same time he jumped 32 parked cars in a carnival stunt show?"

"You heard that story too, huh?"

Hutch watched the glowing tail lights of the car in front of them. "I'll believe it when I see it."

The detectives fell silent at that, each lost in his own quiet reflections. The land out here was untouched and barely populated. Highways consisted of nothing more than two-lane dirt roads zigzagging through the countryside. Herds of cattle and horses roamed freely, often grazing on and around the roads. Hutch had only counted two road signs in the past hour. Somehow, though, the Duke boys knew exactly where they were going as they led Starsky and Hutch through the Georgia backwoods.

The General Lee drifted to the right and continued on a side road without missing a beat. Hutch shook his head in awe as Starsky followed. These roads were neither named nor decorated with mile markers. How did anyone find their way around out here? Never mind the fact that is was dark outside, making this drive even more blind.

The scenery to the right opened up, highlighting a good-sized pond glittering under the moonlight. Hutch was transported back to those long-ago summers of his childhood, back when girls had cooties and he dreamed of being a cowboy. His biggest hero had been his grandfather, and the old man remained so even today. Together, and usually accompanied by one or two farm dogs, Hutch and his grandfather would spend the morning tending the farm, with Hutch doing the child-sized chores, then they would retreat to the shade of a nearby pond for a lazy afternoon of fishing and storytelling. Hutch would watch as his grandfather's calloused hands strung the fishing lines, removed fish from hooks, and baited Hutch's line when the worms were too slippery. Every summer afternoon for two or three hours, Hutch would learn the difference between right and wrong, good and evil, and what is was that made his grandfather the man he was. Those memories were golden in Hutch's mind, and still preserved in a warm feeling of love and honor. Those were the memories he wanted to create for his own children some day.

"What the- Where did that thing come from?!"

Starsky's exclamation shattered Hutch's peaceful reverie and he opened his eyes before he knew they had drifted shut. About thirty feet in front of them, directly in front of the General Lee, a bright red stop sign appeared at the side of the road, it's reflective paint flashing against the beams of the headlights. The General's brake lights flared quickly as the orange car blew past the sign.

Starsky slammed his foot on the LTD's brakes quickly in confusion, then pressed the gas again, following the General as he too passed the stop sign.

"Did you see that? That stop sign just came out of nowhere!"

Hutch twisted in his seat, slowly and painfully, trying to get a better look. "I think it had wheels," he said, squinting through the dark. The story the Dukes had presented them with this morning was becoming more and more believable by the minute.

One second later, a burst of red and blue lights filled the night sky as a marked police car lurched from the shadows and swerved onto the road behind them.

"Uh, Hutch?" Starsky questioned, glancing between the rear view mirror and the winding road before him.

A new voice filled the CB's airwaves. "All right you Duke boys, this is Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane and I've got ya this time!"

Bo's voice returned the call. "Now Rosco, what are you doin' out here at this time of night? Don't you have more important things to do than throwin' out speed traps? You know we're gonna get away."

"Not this time ya aren't. Things have been mighty peaceful while you boys have been gone and Boss needs 'em to stay that way for another 24 hours. Now pull over before I add resisting arrest to your list of charges."

There was a moment of silence and Hutch made eye contact with Starsky. The owner of this bumbling, enthusiastic voice was the acting Sheriff of a county? And they had run the stop sign too, why weren't they being told to pull over?

"Sorry Rosco, tell ol' Boss that the Duke boys are back in Hazzard and we're gonna find out what he's up to!"

With that, the General Lee lurched forward with a rumble. The sirens got louder until the police car shot past the LTD, hot on the trail of the Dukes.

"I can't believe this," Starsky said, jerking the car away from the sudden flash of red and blue. "Not only are they running away, but it sounds like they do this all the time!"

Hutch gripped the seat back before him with white knuckles as the LTD bounced down the dirt road. "Maybe they weren't making all those stories up," he mused, watching the General and the police car move further away. "Follow 'em."

"I'm trying," Starsky retorted, fighting with the steering wheel for control over the car. "Your piece of junk car can't handle these dirt roads!"

"You sure it's not the driver?" Hutch teased, then winced as karma threw the car into a pothole. His back bounced off the seat and ignited in hot pain as if the burns had been scraped with sandpaper. A whimper escaped him before he could stop it and he lashed out at Starsky. "Would you watch where you're going? If you break my car, you're buying me a new one."

"I'm sorry!" Starsky snapped, keeping his eyes on the road and his tone sincere. "But your car can hardly handle the streets of Bay City, let alone these back country roads. Look at how far ahead they are!"

Indeed, the General and it's pursuer were a good distance ahead, flying over bumps and hills as if they weren't even there. Then the General took a sharp corner with impressive precision, leaving the police car fishtailing wildly in an effort to catch up.

Suddenly it felt very lonely out on these dark country roads, now that the other cars were out of sight.

Starsky took a breath. "So now what-"

A loud boom filled the air as the LTD's heavy frame bounced in and out of an unforeseen ditch. The force of the collision found Hutch in mid-air for a moment, tossed around like popcorn, before landing upon the rear seat with spine-jarring impact. The car came to an immediate stop as the hood popped open and shut like the jaws of a large shark. White steam began rising up from the engine, thinning into whips as it climbed into the starry sky. Hutch's ears rang in the silence as he gathered himself from where he lay sprawled.

"You okay?" he asked, leaning forward over the seats to check on his partner.

Starsky shook his head and released his grasp on the steering wheel. "I think so. You?"

Hutch's back flared angrily as the singed nerves protested the harsh treatment. He swallowed a lump in his throat and replied, "I'm good."

"I don't think your car made it," Starsky said solemnly, staring the open hood of the LTD.

Once the wave of pain began to recede, Hutch reached for the door handle. "Well let's go look at the damage you did."

"Me? Don't go laying this whole thing on me," Starsky began, pushing open the driver's door.

The door dropped to the ground with a heavy thud, then lay rocking silently in the dust.

Hutch glared at Starsky.

"Oh come on! This car has had it in for me since day one! It's been waiting for the perfect time to fall apart and it looks like it found it!"

A gentle breeze ruffled Hutch's loose-fitting shirt, softly grating the fabric across his burned back. Starsky must have noticed his discomfort because his face softened then and he said, "You should probably take your shirt off. You need more of that cream stuff?"

"It's aloe, and I'll be fine," Hutch said, but shrugged out of his shirt anyway. The cool air seemed to take some of the edge off, at least. "But you had better fix this," he said, pointing to the steaming engine.

"I can't do anything while we're stranded out in the middle of the boonies," Starsky replied.

The crickets chirped their agreement, adding to the solitude.

"See if you can call them on the radio," Hutch said, motioning inside the car. "Unless you broke that too."

Starsky narrowed his eyes and cocked his head a little before reaching inside the car and grabbing the mike. "Uh, this is Zebra Three, calling…" he paused and made a face, "Lost Sheep… do you copy?"

The buzzing of locusts added to the chorus of crickets.

"Lost sheep, this is Zebra Three, do you copy?"

A cold tingle feathered over Hutch. Did he just hear footsteps? He turned to stare into the darkness.

Starsky threw down the mike. "I don't think they're out there," he grumbled and raised his hand to slap the roof- then thought better of it.

Hutch's hair began to stand on edge. There was definitely something moving amongst the shadows.

"Well this is just great. We're not in this county for five minutes and we're already lost, caught up in a diamond theft case, and minus a car. Is this our luck or what?"

"Starsk."

"I'm gonna see to it that somebody reimburses us for all the time and effort we're putting in…"

"Starsky!"

"I know, I know. I was stupid to think that this would all work out-"

Hutch switched tactics. "Hello? Who's there?"

Starsky fell silent and moved to Hutch's side. "You see someone?"

A rhythmic thumping could be heard from the shadows, along with the rustle of leaves. "You hear that?" Hutch asked, desperate to know it wasn't in his imagination.

Starsky grew very tense. "Yeah," he whispered, reaching for his gun. "Police! Show yourself!" he shouted into the shadows.

Hutch suddenly found himself very naked without his weapon. He had taken it off because the holster irritated his burns, but now realized what a mistake that had been. Surely they were being over precautious. This was a small town in the middle of nowhere. The chances of them finding Hazzard's only armed bad guy were pretty slim.

Right?

Starsky moved forward. "All right, here I come," he warned, sounding a lot braver then Hutch felt.

The bushes before them began to quiver and rustle, then finally the branches parted and a large shape emerged.

They were staring into the glistening eyes of a large brown cow.

Hutch felt his strength drain away and he nearly collapsed against the car in relief. An embarrassed smile crept over him as Starsky jumped back, away from the inquisitive bovine.

"What the- ?" He yelped, lowering his weapon as he returned to Hutch's side. "Is that a cow?"

Hutch chuckled as the cow flicked an ear and began munching cud. His heart was still cycling the adrenaline from his system as he replied, "Yeah, partner, it's just a cow."

Starsky blinked and holstered his weapon. He straightened a little, then looked at Hutch. "Boy, he sure had *you* scared! I thought you grew up on a farm!"

"You were shaking just as bad as me, and I only visited the farm," Hutch retorted.

A deep rumble filled the air, preceded by one very orange car. "Well, look who came back," Starsky huffed, moving carefully past the cow.

The General Lee came to a stop alongside the LTD, purring as it idled. Bo smiled brightly. "You guys okay? We got worried when we couldn't raise ya on the CB."

"Oh, we're just fine," Starsky replied. "Just discussing our car troubles with one of the locals."

Bo looked behind Starsky at the cow, then to Hutch before furrowing his brow at Starsky. "I don't see anyone."

Luke was sitting in the window of the passenger door. "Why don't you guys just leave it here tonight. We'll get Cooter out here first thing in the morning and he'll take a look at it."

Hutch nodded as the cow stepped forward, bumping the fallen door with it's large nose. "Fine. It's not like anyone will take it."

"Alright then. Get in and we'll take you back to the farm." Luke got out of the car and moved aside.

Hutch followed Starsky as the brunet agreed and climbed in the General's backseat the way Bo had showed him to during one of their pit stops yesterday. After ten minutes of practice and three lumps on his head, Starsky left the Alabama gas station with the skill to maneuver through a car window as good as the Dukes.

Hutch, on the other hand, was not as agile at that particular feat.

After awkwardly sliding through the window and landing more on Starsky than the seat, Hutch gathered himself and swallowed down the pain on his bare back. Luke slid in next and the General lurched forward before he hit the leather seat.

"So where's the sheriff?" Starsky asked as the car rumbled away.

"Rosco? We made sure he's okay. Just got a little hung up is all."

Hutch peered out the small triangular window, watching the cow lift it's head in confusion at it's company's sudden disappearance. They rounded a bend and there, up ahead off in the distance, spinning slowly on it's roof, dented and dirty, sat the police car.

Sure enough, there was movement inside the wreckage as the shadowy figure shook his fist at the passing car.

Hutch elbowed Starsky and pointed as they drove by.

"Well Starsky, welcome to Hazzard County."

~o0O0o~

'The real test of friendship is: can you literally do nothing with the other person? Can you enjoy those moments of life that are utterly simple?'
-Eugene Kennedy

The sun rose bright and cheerful over Hazzard County the next morning. For the first time in years, Hutch woke to the sound of a rooster crowing. Birds twittered about on the branches outside and occasionally a cow would moo or a horse whinny. Hutch was very tempted to simply lay in the small patch of sun filtering in through the window and let the world pass him by. A gentle breeze was coming into the room, soothing the reddened skin on his bare back. His muscles were sore and stiff from the long ride yesterday, but the pain in his back was noticeably less today. Some of the smaller blisters that neared his sides were almost gone, and the skin didn't feel as tight. Lying here on his stomach, Hutch found he was more relaxed than he had been in days. What he wouldn't give to simply hover in this state of oblivion for the rest of the day…

"Hey Hutch, you awake?"

Well, it couldn't last forever. Hutch did his best impression of a sleeping man and waited.

"Hutch…."

"Hey, wake up."

"Hutch!"

"What?" he groaned, turning his head to face the obnoxious voice of his partner. Hutch squinted into the sunlight and slowly made out the shape of Starsky sitting on the small bed across the room. "You're really awful, you know that?"

"Well it's morning and everyone else is up, plus it's too noisy with all these animals milling around outside and I'm hungry."

Hutch breathed a deep breath of pure Georgia air and pushed himself upright. "Are you ever not hungry?" he teased, catching the shirt that Starsky tossed him.

After escaping the sheriff's attempt at framing the Dukes for a traffic violation, the four men ended their long, three-day journey by arriving at the Duke farm close to midnight. The cousins led the detectives through the house on tip-toe, giving Starsky and Hutch a very brief and hushed tour of the small farmhouse before grabbing some blankets and retreating to the barn for the night.

Falling asleep in someone else's bedroom had always been a little unnerving for Hutch, but the weight of exhaustion pulled him to sleep too quickly last night. Now that his brain was functioning better, Hutch was able to really observe his surroundings. Whatever he had imagined the Duke bedroom to look like, this was exactly it.

The walls were covered in green and blue checkered wallpaper, and heavily adorning the wallpaper was a multitude of racecar pin-ups. Checkered flags criss-crossed each other amongst the posters, held in place by tiny nails. Miscellaneous racing paraphernalia littered every available surface in the small bedroom. These boys lived and breathed cars. There were only a few car posters that included leggy, feminine models, and these seemed almost as if they'd been hung up as an afterthought. Hutch found himself smiling at the naïve innocence of this honest country family. His belief of their innocence was almost firmly cemented in his mind. This bedroom did not fit that of a criminal, even a novice one.

Starsky had been talking as he put his own shirt on, but Hutch only now started to listen. "…mom's growing boy. Personally, I just don't get the point of your little fasts."

"I respect my body, Starsky, that's why I do it," Hutch tried to explain and was overcome with a strong sensation of déjà vu. Hadn't he and Starsky already had this conversation? "And it wouldn't be a bad idea for you to fast either, once in a while…"

The mouth-watering aroma of frying bacon wafted into the room and Hutch quickly abandoned all thoughts of fasting, or healthy food at all. He was *starved*.

Hutch grabbed the antique metal doorknob and wondered briefly how many years this house had seen. Didn't he hear Luke say this family had been in the moonshine business for 200 years?

In his haste to find food, Starsky practically shoved Hutch against the small hallway as he stampeded towards the kitchen, and Hutch thought maybe this was what a young Nick Starsky felt like on Saturday mornings years ago. He was tempted to snatch the back of Starsky's shirt and yank him backwards, but Hutch was a grown man now, and he would not lower himself to that level of childish- oh screw it, he thought and grabbed Starsky, pushing the brunet behind him as he rounded the kitchen doorway.

"Something sure smells good in-"

That was all the further Hutch got before a leggy, long-haired young woman jumped and spun away from the stove in front of her, bringing with her the heavy, black, cast-iron frying pan she had been holding, and swiftly nailed Hutch on the side of the head. Momentum sent him stumbling over a wooden chair and Hutch fell against the wall, his ears ringing loudly as he was barely aware of his partner placing himself between Hutch and the woman in a yielding, hands-up gesture.

At that moment, out in the barn, Bo and Luke heard the commotion and winced.

"Hey, take it easy!" Starsky ordered, standing over his fallen friend. "We're the good guys!"

Hutch put a hand to his head, hoping to stop the reverberation that coursed through his skull.

An old man rose to his feet and moved beside the woman. "Well who in tarnation are ya?"

"We're friends of Bo and Luke-" Starsky started, but was interrupted when the screen door banged open.

"Daisy, Uncle Jesse, it's okay!" Luke began and Bo cut him off.

"They came back from California with us, they're detectives!"

Daisy dropped the skillet as if it had burned her and Uncle Jesse looked annoyed. "Well why didn't ya say so?" he admonished.

Starsky knelt beside Hutch, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?" he questioned, gently trying to pry Hutch's hand from where it was clenched against his skull.

Hutch's vision slowly stopped spinning and the songbirds quit chirping so loudly. "I think so," he murmured, pushing himself into a half-sitting, half-collapsed position against the bright yellow wall. He finally let Starsky pull his hand down. "How bad is it?"

A small smile spread over Starsky. "Well, your brains are still safe inside your head, so I'd say you're good to go."

"Listen mister, I am so sorry… you shouldn't go creepin' up on people like that! I didn't know who you were!"

Hands were on him then and Hutch was deposited in one of the kitchen chairs. A refrigerator door was opened and shut as introductions were made. Daisy, the third Duke cousin, plopped down in the chair next to Hutch and handed him a towel filled with ice cubes.

"Here ya go sugar, hold this to your head while we get ya somethin' to eat."

Hutch did as he was told and soon a plate full of thick bacon, fried eggs, cornmeal mush and homemade buttermilk biscuits was set down heavily on the table before him. Suddenly the pain in his head lessened considerably and his neglected stomach reawakened. He supposed his head wasn't hurt as badly as he thought.

Soon the others were sitting around the table as well and an awkward conversation was taking shape.

"So," Starsky began tentatively, "that's a mean swing you got there."

Was Starsky, the great womanizer of Bay City, actually *scared* of this female? Hutch snorted softly.

"Well growin' up with these two, ya learn real fast," Daisy smiled, leaning into Bo as she spoke. "Why, they taught me everything I know about stickin' up for myself."

"So this sort of thing happens often?" Starsky asked, picking up a piece of bacon. "I mean, having intruders in your house?"

"It happens more than you'd believe," Uncle Jesse said gruffly from his spot at the head of the table. "But we manage alright."

"What time did you boys get in last night?" Daisy asked.

"And why didn't I hear the General when ya got here?" Uncle Jesse added.

Bo answered, "Well that was the point. We didn't wanna wake you up so we rolled the General up to the house. Me and Luke showed Starsky and Hutch where our room was and we slept out in the barn. Sorry for scaring ya," he added thoughtfully.

Hutch eyed the glistening bacon wearily, one hand still pressing the ice to his head. His stomach rumbled. It did look sorta good… Man, he must be hungrier than he thought.

"So how long you boys in town fer?" Uncle Jesse asked, directing the question to Starsky.

"Just long enough to get my car," Starsky replied.

Hutch looked over to his partner's plate. It was half empty already.

"Your car?" Daisy questioned. "What car?"

"Well your cousins here owe me a car for keeping their tails out of-" Starsky stopped suddenly and looked to Bo and Luke, suddenly afraid that he had said too much.

Uncle Jesse and Daisy turned to Bo and Luke also.

"Boys," Uncle Jesse began warningly, "is there something I need to know?"

"Well now Uncle Jesse, you knew as well as we did that once we crossed the county line we were breaking our probation," Luke said.

"And then there's the diamonds," Bo added.

"Diamonds?" Uncle Jesse echoed. "What diamonds?"

"See, after Starsky and Hutch agreed to trade one of Cooter's old cars for our freedom," Luke began boldly, "They found diamonds hidden in that cookie jar of Boss's. Looks like he had more motive for wantin' us to bring that thing back than we thought," Luke finished gloomily.

Uncle Jesse narrowed his eyes and looked between the four young men. "That true?" he asked.

Starsky nodded. "Yes sir." He patted Hutch on the shoulder as he smiled, "But don't worry, Hutch and I are gonna get to the bottom of this and see to it that whoever's guilty pays the price."

Uncle Jesse held his firm glare a moment longer before smiling. "Well in that case, I'm much obliged to ya for keeping my boys outta jail. I never woulda let 'em leave Hazzard in the first place, if it wasn't for their sick cousin Jeb Stuart." He paused for a moment. "These kids are my life. I don't know what I would do if they were taken away from me."

Starsky smiled and nodded his understanding, and the room felt very dismal for a few seconds.

Hutch looked up from picking at his biscuit, suddenly noticing the lack of conversation. He had missed something, that much was obvious.

"Your boys saved my partner," Starsky spoke up at last. He smiled at Bo and Luke before looking at Daisy and Uncle Jesse. "There was a fire at our motel two nights ago. Bo, Luke and I were getting people outside while Hutch went into the room to get our stuff. When we saw him, his whole back was on fire. Luke pushed him in the pool before I could hardly move."

Luke blushed into his plate while Daisy broke out in a huge grin. "Why Luke, you're a hero!" In the next instant, she turned to Hutch. "You poor thing, you were on fire?"

Hutch looked up from his breakfast. "What? Oh, yeah, it's nothing really-"

"Nothing?" Starsky questioned, and Hutch felt irritated at his partner for not allowing him *any* dignity, "You couldn't even wear a shirt for the better part of yesterday! It looks awful!"

"Well how 'bout I take a look at it after breakfast, while the boys take care of the chores? I've been tending bumps and bruises ever since I can remember. It's the least I can do after hittin' ya like that."

Hutch froze as Daisy smiled warmly.

"Yeah, Starsky, you wouldn't mind helping us out, would ya? Then as soon as we're done, we can go see 'ol Cooter."

"Uh…" Starsky fumbled, and Hutch's ego swelled. "Sure, I'd love to help."

Liar.

Hutch smiled brightly and turned to his partner. "It's okay, I'll be fine," he purred, resting a hand on Starsky's shoulder and giving it a competitive squeeze. "You go. Have fun."

Hutch had to fight very hard to keep from laughing at the jealous look on Starsky's face. "All right, you win," Starsky conceded, his voice low. "You better get those burns looked after. I don't want to hear you complaining the whole way back to Bay City."

Daisy rose to her feet and began clearing the empty dishes as Uncles Jesse pushed away from the table. "It's settled then. Oh, and boys," he said, standing stiffly and reached up, grabbing a glass bottle off the top of the refrigerator, "Maudine needs this liniment rubbed on her. Old girl's getting as rickety as I am."

Bo and Luke rose from the table. "Sure thing, Uncle Jesse," Luke said, taking the bottle.

Starsky was on his feet too, glaring down at Hutch like a child who had *not* gotten his way. "I'm off to do manly chores," he murmured, trying to get a rise out of Hutch. "You take it easy, *sugar*."

Hutch smiled and leaned back in his chair, then jerked forwards again when pain flared in his back. "Get on out there, farm boy. Them chickens ain't gonna feed themselves."

Starsky's smile faded as Daisy grabbed Hutch's hand and gently tugged him to his feet. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't their be *two* female Dukes?

With a small sigh, Starsky followed Bo and Luke outside, trying to ignore the way Daisy was giggling at whatever Hutch had said to her. He stepped through the rickety screen door and down into the dirt, feeling the morning sun already shining brightly upon the small farm. The air seemed to be cleaner here in Georgia, unpolluted by traffic and humans the way Bay City was. It was one of those things you didn't notice until you had something to compare it to. Starsky was a little surprised to find that he rather liked the sweet smell of honeysuckle in the air.

As they walked towards the barn, Starsky took in his surroundings. The screened-in porch caught the morning sun and Starsky raised a hand to his face to shield his eyes from the bright light. A large, weather-worn barn sat roughly fifty feet away, and the sounds of many different animals could be heard from within. The General Lee glistened in the sun where it was parked next to the house. An old, beat-up white pickup sat next to it, and beside the truck sat a white Jeep. Those must be Daisy and Jesse's vehicles. A little further away, a large green tractor was parked under a dense shade tree.

More than what *was* there, Starsky noticed what *wasn't* present. Noise. Traffic. Trash. People.

Land stretched on for miles around, dotted with both deciduous and evergreen trees. Wildflowers bloomed tall and fragrant. Birds soared soundlessly overhead instead of airplanes. The country tranquility was a new experience for Starsky, and one that he might be able to get used to.

"Here ya go," Luke said, suddenly breaking into Starsky's reflections. A metal bucket was shoved into his chest and Starsky brought his arms up to hold it.

"What's this?" he asked, looking into the bucket. It was filled with some sort of yellow grain- cracked corn?

"It's chicken feed," Luke replied. "Just throw it on the ground, but spread it out so they all get some. Me and Bo will be in the barn when you're done."

Starsky stuck his hand in the bucket as Luke walked away. He scooped up a handful of the corn and let it fall through his fingers and back into the bucket, examining the dusty substance.

"Cluck?"

Starsky looked up, and felt his breath leave him.

A swarm of chickens surrounded him. They were everywhere, darting and bobbing about as they completely covered the ground at his feet. They were quietly clucking amongst themselves as they moved and the constant noise reminded Starsky of a flock of pigeons back home. Except these birds were bigger, and had masks of red. One brave, white chicken moved forward, it's head and red comb bobbing and it's black eyes unblinking, then it reached out and pecked at the shoestring on Starsky's left shoe.

"Hey!" Starsky exclaimed, jumping back and causing a few of the birds to scatter out of the way with clucks of protest. "Back off, bird," Starsky growled, and threw a handful of food at the group.

The entire herd of chickens dived for the food, like a star imploding. Feathers flapped and beaks snapped as the corn was plucked from the dirt with amazing precision and speed. Within seconds, the food was devoured and the group expanded again.

Somewhat amazed, Starsky grabbed another handful of the corn and raised his hand.

The group fell silent and every single eye was on him.

Starsky tossed the food again, this time letting it disperse as he swung his arm. The birds dived for the food, but this time not as violently.

Starsky chuckled as the birds looked to him for more. "You know, I could get used to this," he said, both to himself and the to birds as he threw more corn.

"So which one of you is regular and who's extra crispy?"

~o0O0o~

"They're called wattles."

"Wattles? Those little floppy things under the chicken's head are called *wattles*?" Starsky snorted. "Who thought of that word, Colonel Sanders?"

"Who?"

Starsky blinked, then shook his head. "Never mind. What's next on the list?"

Luke took the empty bucket from Starsky and pointed towards a small, wooden building next to the barn. "I guess you could gather the eggs. Me and Bo hafta rub this liniment on Maudine. We'll be in the barn if you need us, there's a basket right inside the door."

Starsky eyed the chicken coop wearily. "So I just reach in and take the eggs? They don't bite, do they?"

Luke laughed and glanced at Bo. "Just push 'em aside and be quick. They'll move."

Starsky looked between the cousins, trying to find any sort of unspoken information. Finding nothing but two smiling hillbillies, Starsky agreed. "Okay."

Starsky pushed open the wooden door slowly, wincing when the hinges squeaked. He ducked inside.

The smell of bird dung assaulted his nose and Starsky waved a hand in front of his face. The chickens nearest him fluttered around a bit, obviously unaccustomed to the motion. The low hum of clucking chickens filled the air, making the coop feel even smaller than it already was.

"Alright ladies," Starsky mumbled, grabbing the wicker basket next to him. "I'm here to steal your babies, and I don't want any fussing from any of you, got it?"

The hens clucked contentedly.

Starsky began with the first chicken, reaching out and pushing her away with the back of his hand. Feathers beat his hand as she fluttered aside. "Pardon me," Starsky said, making a face as he reached into the mass of straw and twigs, snatching two light-brown colored eggs. As soon as his hand was clear, the hen reclaimed her space.

"Well that was easy," Starsky said, gently placing the eggs in his basket. He took another step and repeated the process with the next chicken.

Soon, Starsky had gathered the eggs from all the nests on the lower roosts. The only row left was the top roost, the one that was nearly level with his head. Now fluent in his egg gathering skills, Starsky reached up and confidently gathered the eggs from the nest on the end. The chicken clucked excitedly as she jumped aside and a few small feathers rained down, sticking in Starsky's curly hair. He shook his head quickly, still leaving one stubborn feather deep within his curls, and stepped to the side.

Starsky reached up, his arm tense in expectation of a nested hen, and was a little surprised when his hand met only air. Where was the hen that built a nest here? Starsky shrugged- maybe they were finally learning to move out of the way. He reached inside the nest, feeling blindly with his hand.

Instead of grasping the smooth warmth of a fragile eggshell, Starsky's fingers closed around something firm and scaly. "What the…" Starsky grabbed the foreign object and pulled it down from the roost.

A long, thick black snake writhed in his hand and Starsky dropped the creature as if he'd been bitten. His heart was suddenly thumping painfully in his throat and Starsky stumbled backwards in to the wall of roosts behind him. His hand was on his gun before he knew it and Starsky was pointing the weapon at the creature, though with his hand trembling like it was, he was more likely to shoot a chicken than the snake.

Unconcerned, the snake slithered out of sight.

The chickens he'd bumped into clucked loudly and flapped their wings in annoyance. Unable to vocalize an apology for all the deep breaths he was drawing, Starsky quickly holstered his gun and fled the chicken coop.

After depositing the basket of eggs on the ground, Starsky ran to the barn. "Hey," he panted, causing an old brown mare to start and shy away from Luke, "There's a… snake… in the chicken coop!" He bent forwards to place his hands on his knees, still numb from the heavy adrenaline burst.

Luke straightened from rubbing the horse's leg and placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. "Well you didn't kill it, did you? They're good to keep the varmints away."

"Kill it?" Starsky repeated incredulously, "It was about to bite me! I was holding it in my hand!" He held his trembling hand out before him to illustrate, still feeling the warm body in his grasp.

"What color was it?"

"Black, I think," Starsky replied. The image was burned in his mind, even though he had only held the creature for a second.

"Well it wouldn't have hurt much," Luke grinned, holding onto the horse's halter. "Just woulda swelled up a little. Those snakes squeeze their pray to death."

Starsky got his breath, finally feeling the adrenaline leave his system. He chose not to respond to Luke's comment as all sorts of horrible images flashed through his mind. "Well, I got all the eggs. Are we done yet?"

"Don't suppose you know how to milk a goat?" Luke questioned.

"Now that's where I draw the line!" Starsky exclaimed, moving further inside the barn. "Call me a 'city boy' all you want, but I am not pulling on any udders!"

Luke laughed and turned towards the horse. "All right city boy, you've helped enough. Help me put Maudine in her stall and we'll see if Bo's done."

Starsky moved forward cautiously, just now noticing how large the horse really was. The old mare clip-clopped slowly and obediently under Luke's guidance, her heavy hooves thumping deeply against the barn's dirt floor as she walked. The horse's shoulders were of equal height to Luke's shoulders, and her large brown head was the length of Luke's torso. In all, th