This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any actual resemblance to persons or historical persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Dukes of Hazzard characters, settings, locales, ect. and the Rockford Files characters, settings, locales, ect. are owned by other entities who have not endorsed this fic nor have they given express permission for the character's use. Author makes not claims to these characters and is not making any profit from their use.

The Rockford Files is a Public Arts/Roy Huggins Production in Association with Cherokee Productions and Universal-an MCA Company. The Dukes of Hazzard is a Lou Step Production in Association with Warner Bros. Television.

All original characters are the property of the author.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the author or any legally assigned agents of the author.

© Copyright: 1996-2004. Lisa Philbrick

The Dukes of Hazzard
The Rockford Files/The Dukes of Hazzard: Hazzard Pursuit

By: Lisa Philbrick

Chapter 2

The sun was on it’s way to another deep golden set in the western sky when MaryAnne turned her patrol car on to the smooth pavement of Route 35. She flipped the visor down, taking a moment to enjoy the colors of Hazzard County that shown in the
early evening sun. It had been several weeks since Hazzard had experienced any trouble, to which MaryAnne learned not to take the peace for granted. In the eight and a half months since she’d moved back to Hazzard, MaryAnne had learned that trouble could come to Hazzard in just about any form. And at anytime.

As she came around the turn, MaryAnne spotted a white 1984 Firebird off the side of the road. The hood was up and MaryAnne could see the vapors coming off the engine. Just before she pulled over in front of the car, she saw the driver, a tall dark haired man wearing a blue sport coat and gray slacks, come around from the front of the car. He looked at the patrol car and turned and watched it come to a stop.

MaryAnne stepped out of her car and approached the handsome stranger.

“Howdy,” she greeted and smiled.

“Hi,” Jim replied. He returned the smile, obviously having no problem with being assisted by an attractive female deputy.

“What seems to be the trouble?” she asked stepping toward the engine of the Firebird.

“Fan belt let go,” Jim said. “I’m lucky I didn’t drop the whole engine.”

MaryAnne looked at the busted belt that rested on the engine block. “Ooh, yeah.” She shook her head disgustedly. “They just ain’t makin’ Firebirds like they used to.”

“Tell me about it. I should have just brought mine.”

She looked at Jim. “You got one?”

“Yeah. ‘78 Firebird Esprit.”

“No kiddin’! I got a ‘78 too.” She paused and then asked, “What’s your name?”

“Jim Rockford.”

MaryAnne put her hand out. “MaryAnne Coltrane.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jim said taking her hand.

MaryAnne took a moment to glance at his hand, then as they let go she asked, “Can I ask where you’re headed to?”


“Hazzard? Really?”

“Yeah. I’m a private investigator from Los Angeles and I’m looking for a former rookie cop named Enos Strate.”

“Enos? Well, you’ve come to the right place but unfortunately Enos isn’t in town now. He won’t be back ‘til tomorrow. Listen, why don’t I give Cooter a call on the radio and have him tow in this manufacturing monstrosity and I’ll give you a lift into town.”
She paused and smiled. “I’d offer you the hospitality of the Hazzard Hotel but they’re full. All six rooms.”

Jim chuckled.

“I suppose you could stay with us, I’ll have to ask Rosco though.”

“Who’s that?”

“My cousin, who just happens to be the Sheriff of Hazzard County.”

Jim smiled amusingly as MaryAnne walked back to her patrol car to call Cooter.

Were y’all watchin’? I think MaryAnne likes him already. Folks, that’s what I call fallin’ fast!

After MaryAnne called Cooter on the CB, she had Jim put his bags in her patrol car and she drove him back to town.

The two men had seen the deputy pull over and they now watched as Jim got into the patrol car and the white cruiser drove away.

You haven’t forgotten about these two have you?

“What do we do now?” Murray, the man who had manhandled Angel back in LA asked. “If he’s cozyin’ up to the fuzz we’ll never get to him.”

“We will, we will,” Russ replied. “We know he’s here to talk to that former cop who’s a deputy here. We don’t get one, we get the other.”

Uh-oh. Maybe Enos oughta stay in Capital City for awhile longer.

MaryAnne brought her patrol car to a stop in front of the courthouse and she and Jim got out. She waited on the sidewalk for Jim to come around the car and then walked with him into the courthouse.

The booking room was empty but the door to Rosco’s office was slightly ajar. MaryAnne stepped toward it.

“Rosco?” she called pushing the door open.

The older Coltrane looked up as MaryAnne and a tall stranger came in. Rosco stood up as MaryAnne said, “Want you to meet someone. This is Jim Rockford. Jim, this is my cousin, Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane.”

“Hi,” Jim said and put his hand out.

Rosco shook the man’s hand and smiled. “Howdy.”

“Jim’s a private investigator from LA. He’s lookin’ for Enos. His car broke down just outside of town and since the hotel is full, I figured he could stay with us.”

“Oh, sure,” Rosco said. He looked at Jim. “Lookin’ for Enos, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jim said. “I’m working on a murder case that happened when he was a rookie there. I was hired by the widow after the cops closed it. She says that Enos believed her theory on who the killer might have been at the time. So, I’m here to ask
him about it.”

“And, since Enos isn’t here right now, Jim would have to stay somewhere for the night anyway.” MaryAnne gave Jim a sideways glance and smiled. “Since we have a guest room, might as well let him use it.”

“Yeah,” Rosco said. “No problem.” He looked at MaryAnne. There was something about the look on her face as she gazed up at the tall handsome man. It was something Rosco hadn’t seen in a long time.

* * *

Coming into town, Bo and Luke Duke saw Cooter towing in the new model Firebird. Not a car that the boys saw regularly, they stopped at the garage to inquire about it.

“Hey,” Cooter greeted when he got out of his truck.

“Hey, Cooter,” Luke said. He gestured to the Firebird. “Where’d you get this thing?”

“Ain’t it a shame? An ol’ boy broke down with it just outside of town. MaryAnne found him.”

“Know who it is?”

“Nope. They’re over at the courthouse now.” Cooter looked towards the building across the street. He saw MaryAnne then come out with a city dressed stranger. “There they are now.”

The boys turned and looked.

MaryAnne turned to Jim. “Listen, uh, if you’re hungry, we’ve got a couple of diners here in town. They’re not too bad.”

Jim smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea but let me check with the mechanic about the car. Let him know it’s a rental.”

MaryAnne chuckled. “Yeah, don’t wanna get stuck with the repair bill.”

“Yeah,” Jim agreed. As Jim walked across the street, Bo and Luke were coming over to the courthouse. They said ‘howdy’ to Jim as they passed and then approached MaryAnne.

“Hey, fellas,” she said.

“Hey, MaryAnne,” Bo said. “Who’s that?”

“His name’s Jim Rockford. He’s a private investigator from LA.”

“LA?” Luke questioned. “He on his way to Atlanta?”

“Nope. He’s here lookin’ for Enos. He’s workin’ on a case that Enos might be some help on. A murder that happened when Enos was a cop there.”

The boys looked at each other.

“What?” MaryAnne asked.

“Are you sure about all that, MaryAnne?” Luke said.

“Of course I’m sure. Why?”

“Well, the last time somebody from LA came here lookin’ for Enos, the guy was a hit man.”

“Oh come on,” MaryAnne said. “Does Jim look like a hitman to you?”

“No, but the guy we picked up didn’t look like hit man either,” Bo said.

“And did the guy say out loud he was lookin’ for Enos?”

“Well, no.”

“Alright then. If Jim’s a hit man he’s a pretty stupid one for tellin’ both me and the Sheriff his intended target.”

“MaryAnne, we just think this guy oughta be checked out.”

“And I’m tellin ya, he’s legitimate. I think you fellas are bein’ a bit foolish judging a person like that. I had expected different from you two.” Not giving the boys a chance to respond, MaryAnne walked across the street to the garage.

The boys watched her meet up with Jim. She turned her head slightly and gave the boys a cross glance and then she and Jim headed towards the square.

“Do you think we are being foolish?” Bo asked.

“I don’t know. I tell ya tho’, when Enos gets back tomorrow we tell him this guy’s lookin’ for him and keep an eye out for him. Maybe MaryAnne’s right and this guy is legit, but if he isn’t we’re not gonna stand around and let something happen to Enos.”


Now the boys’ concern is understandable when it comes to things like the safety of their family or friends, but them boys can be a little bull headed and trying to convince them that Jim means no harm to Enos, is about as easy as reversing a buzz saw.

Over at the cafe, Jim and MaryAnne were talkin’ about the one thing they had in common at the moment.

“It’s a great car,” Jim said. “If I had known the one I rented was going to die on me I would’ve brought it with me.”

MaryAnne smiled. “Did Cooter say how long it would take him to fix the rental?”

“About a day and a half. Now my Firebird wouldn’t have quit on me. I’ve driven that thing from LA to Vegas and back. That’s a good five hour drive. I’m amazed the rental made it out of Atlanta.”

MaryAnne chuckled. “How long have you had the ‘78?”

“Bought it new. Had to replace the ‘77, which had been bought new to replace the ‘76, which had been bought new to replace the ‘75, which had been bought new to replace the ‘74.”

MaryAnne’s eyes bugged out. “Holy mackeral.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve lost a lot of cars in my line of work. The ‘74 was blown up, the ‘75 I lost over a cliff, the ‘76 was blown up, and the ‘77 was blown up over a cliff. Thankfully, the ‘78’s been a keeper because I don’t particularly like the new design.”

MaryAnne brought a hand to her mouth to try to stifle her laughter. “I’m sorry,” she said, “it’s not funny but I had thought it was the end of the world when Maverick took a nose dive the day I moved back here. It took Cooter about a month and a half to
fix it.”


MaryAnne could feel her face flush. “Uh, yeah, I named my car. He is a maverick.” She smiled. “Yes, he. Seeing as guys refer to cars, ships and whatever else as ‘she’ I thought I’d refer to Maverick as a ‘he.’”

“Must be quite a car.”

“He is. I bought him at the police auction in Atlanta two years ago. Two hundred dollars. Of course, he wasn’t much of a car at the time. That’s probably why I get so ticked off when I get a scratch on him, considerin’ it took me so long to get him put
together.” MaryAnne caught the reaction in Jim’s dark brown eyes. “No, I didn’t put him together. A friend of my father’s who used to work on Mis--on my father’s car, did it for me.”

Jim nodded and smiled.

“But never mind about me. I’m not the stranger in town, you are. Must be exciting to be a PI in Los Angeles.”

“It can be. Most of the time I go for long spells without any work, or I’m sitting in my car watching people who are supposed to be paralyzed or severely injured walk up and down stairs with ease.”

“Well, for a guy who lost his car four years in a row it must’ve been exciting or at least hair raising then?”

“Oh it was definitely hair raising. This case should be fairly routine compared to some I’ve worked on.”

Ol’ Jim may want to reconsider that, ‘cuz look who just came into town.

The two men who had got their information from Angel, rolled into to town in their indiscreet maroon sedan. They spotted the white Firebird at the garage and the patrol car parked by the courthouse. As they drove around the square they kept their eyes
peeled for Jim, completely missing him as they drove by the cafe.

Don’t underestimate them yet. They may be city folk, but they ain’t dumb.

A little later, MaryAnne took Jim to the Coltrane house to settle in.

MaryAnne and Jim came into the house with Jim carrying his bags and were greeted by Bandit.

“Hey, boy,” MaryAnne said as she kneeled down to give the German Shepherd a hug and rub on the side of his tummy. She then looked up at Jim and said, “I hope you like dogs.”

“Only if they like me.”

MaryAnne giggled. “Bandit, say hello to Jim.”

The dog sat and looked up at Jim.

“Put your hand out to him,” MaryAnne said. Jim did and Bandit lifted a paw and placed it on Jim’s hand.

Jim chuckled. “Hi, Bandit.”

Bandit barked in return. The dog then dropped his paw and Jim gave him a pat on the head and scratch behind the ears.

“There,” MaryAnne said. “You’ve just made a friend for life. Rosco has a dog too. A basset hound. She’s a sweetheart, she’ll like ya.”

Jim smiled.

“Well, I’ll show you the guest room. By the way, Rosco and I will be in out of here all night. One of us will sleep for a couple of hours while the other one does a patrol.”

“There’s just two of you?”

“Well, three with Enos, but he won’t be back ‘til the mornin’.” MaryAnne caught Jim’s reaction again. “Yup, the entire Hazzard County Sheriffs Department is made up of three officers. You’re gonna find we do a lot of things different here in Hazzard.”

She ain’t kiddin’.

Well, even tho’ Jim had a place to sleep, he wasn’t exactly tired. See, nine o’clock in Hazzard means it’s six o’clock in California. And Jim certainly wasn’t tired when nine rolled around.

MaryAnne left to do the first patrol at 9, and Rosco made himself a cup of coffee to keep himself awake during the two and half hours she was on the road. When it had just been him and Enos, it was fairly simple. One would patrol while the other would doze. When MaryAnne had moved back to Hazzard and eventually joined his department, he was thrilled and having three on a rotating schedule during the night certainly made it easier. For awhile anyway. Rosco hadn’t been sleeping very well with the events of the last couple of months still fresh in his mind. He found himself worrying sick about MaryAnne and he refused to sleep while she was on patrol, even though the radio was right next to the couch and turned up loud enough to wake the dead. He was so afraid she would call for help and he wouldn’t hear her. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be a father.

Well, I’m kind of a surrogate father, he thought with a smile as he paused a moment in the kitchen and took a sip of the steaming Java. The aroma filled his nose and he found himself perk up a little. Of course, his thoughts continuing, she’s older than I was when I was first elected Sheriff. Wow, has it been THAT long?

Rosco took another sip of the coffee. He had managed to sneak a thirty minute snooze when MaryAnne was with Jim at the cafe, which should be enough to get through the next four hours.

Jim seems like a likable fella, Rosco thought as he stepped out of the kitchen and began to make his way down the hall toward the living room. He glanced up the stairs and saw the door to the guest room was open slightly and the light was on. Rosco sipped at the coffee and then walked into the living room. He placed the cup down and then picked up the radio mike.

“This is Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane callin’ Deputy MaryAnne Coltrane. Y’all right out there?”

“I’m fine, Rosco. Will you get to sleep?”

“I will, I will. Just wanna make sure yer allright?”

“Yes, I am fine,” MaryAnne laughed. “Now git!”

“Ten-four,” he giggled. “I’m gone.” Rosco put the mike down and walked back to the stairway. The door to the guestroom was still open and the light was still on, so Rosco climbed the stairs.

“Mr. Rockford?” Rosco said, lightly tapping on the door. The door creeped open a little more and Rosco poked his head in.

Jim was seated on the edge of the bed, his blue sport jacket carefully laid over the end. He was making notes in a little black notebook and looking at a yellow legal pad as well. He looked up.

“Hi, Sheriff.”

“You can call me Rosco. Not that I don’t like bein’ called ‘Sheriff,’ but you can call me Rosco.”

Jim smiled. “And you can call me Jim.”

Rosco nodded. “I made some coffee if you’d like some.”

“Sure. Take a break from all of this for a moment.” Jim got up and he followed Rosco down the stairs.

“Have you had any luck in this case yet?” Rosco asked as they came into the kitchen. Rosco grabbed a coffee mug out of the cupboard and handed it to Jim.

“Thanks. No, I haven’t had much of anything yet. Of course, I just started yesterday.” Jim poured himself a cup of the coffee.

“You really think Enos is gonna be any help?”

“Depends on what he remembers about the case. It was four years ago.”

“Yeah. Considerin’ it’s Enos, the dipstick probably won’t remember anything.”

Jim laughed. “Dipstick?”

Rosco giggled. “I always call him that. He’s just Enos. The dipstick.”

Jim chuckled. He took a sip of the coffee and then said, “Aren’t you supposed to be snoozing?”

“Yeah, but I don’t when it’s just me and MaryAnne and she’s on the road.”

Jim nodded. “She’s quite an interesting young woman. How long has she been a deputy?”

“Here in Hazzard? Only about six months. She’s been in law enforcement since she was 20 tho’.” Rosco paused. “Maybe I’m being foolish worrying about her so much, but after the past couple of months I can’t take any chances.”

“More trouble than usual?”

Rosco nodded. “A couple of close calls. For both of us.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about me causing you any trouble. After I talk to Enos I’ll be heading back to LA.”

Unfortunately for Jim, he’s gonna come to regret those words.

Go to Chapter 3